Read Online Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked by Kresley Cole - Free Book Online
Authors: Kresley Cole
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them out in an instant, because they would dare to stare at her.
As a competitor—and the reigning champion for more than a millennium—Kaderin had become more high-profile in the Lore than many of her sisters. She’d garnered power and respect for her covens—and for herself. Had she been a feeler , she would have been prideful of her reputation. She couldn’t believe she’d so easily risked it with her recent indiscretion.
Relative to her sisters, her fall from grace would be a nosedive—
Suddenly, her ears twitched. Sensing something in the shadows at the back of the balcony, she turned and spied a massive male, eyes glowing in the darkness. A Lykae? Now, that was unusual. The werewolves and the vampires never entered this contest.
The Horde vampires found it beneath them, and the mysterious Forbearers didn’t know of its existence. The Lore found it both amusing and shrewd to keep those turned humans in the dark about their world.
Historically, the Lykae couldn’t be troubled to care.
In the past, this set of circumstances had been fortuitous. The Lykae—for all their wild, seething good looks—were single-minded and brutal. And the vampires? With their ability to trace, they would be nigh undefeatable.
The werewolf moved from the shadows, approaching her, and she recognized him as Bowen MacRieve, best friend and cousin to Emmaline’s new werewolf husband. He’d lost weight over the last millennium, but other than that, she sensed that he’d changed little—which meant he was still gorgeous.
“Kaderin.” His golden eyes were vivid, his dark hair thick and long. He didn’t address her as “Lady Kaderin,” as the rest of the Lore did, but then, he didn’t fear her.
“Bowen.” She briefly inclined her head.
“I dinna see you at the wedding. Quite nice affair.”
He’d been at Emma’s wedding, and she’d missed it. “I’m curious about why you are here.”
“I’m entering.” His voice was a rumbling Scottish brogue.
Deep voices were attractive. An unbidden memory arose of the vampire’s gravelly voice breaking between kisses. She shook herself. “You’ll be the first Lykae to do so. Ever.”
He leaned his tall frame against the wall, utterly nonchalant. He was as tall as the vampire, but rangier. Both were rugged, but Bowen probably would be considered more classically handsome.
Comparing him to the vampire? Lovely. As if Sebastian Wroth were USDA grade A?
“Are you alarmed, Valkyrie?”
“Do I look alarmed?” She always enjoyed asking that, since she knew the answer was invariably no. “Why now?” She’d seen Bowen fighting vampires on a battlefield ages ago—he’d been pitiless in the past, and she’d bet that hadn’t changed, either.
He answered, “A friend told me I might have a particular interest in the prize.” Yes, if possible, Bowen was more handsome, but the vampire’s eyes were so very gray, so dark and compelling. If a woman got lost in eyes like Sebastian’s, she’d want to please him in any way he desired. Bowen’s eyes? One glimpse of them, and a woman wouldn’t know whether to jump him or run from him.
Clearly, Kaderin’s blessing was holding, because she didn’t feel even a flutter of desire for the Lykae.
“You know what the prize is?” she asked, but Bowen wasn’t listening. The witches had just arrived—one called Mariketa the Awaited and another woman Kaderin didn’t know—and he was busy scowling at them. “If you’re this easily distracted,” Kaderin said, “I’ll have no problems.”
He bit out, “What are they doing here?”
Kaderin quirked a brow. “They’re here to compete. As they do every Hie.”
She knew the Lykae never purchased magicks from the House of Witches—the Lore’s mystical mercenaries. Kaderin had heard a hundred discountable rumors why, and on occasion, she’d speculated at the truth. She couldn’t imagine life without the convenience of spells—which could vampire-proof chains and
As a competitor—and the reigning champion for more than a millennium—Kaderin had become more high-profile in the Lore than many of her sisters. She’d garnered power and respect for her covens—and for herself. Had she been a feeler , she would have been prideful of her reputation. She couldn’t believe she’d so easily risked it with her recent indiscretion.
Relative to her sisters, her fall from grace would be a nosedive—
Suddenly, her ears twitched. Sensing something in the shadows at the back of the balcony, she turned and spied a massive male, eyes glowing in the darkness. A Lykae? Now, that was unusual. The werewolves and the vampires never entered this contest.
The Horde vampires found it beneath them, and the mysterious Forbearers didn’t know of its existence. The Lore found it both amusing and shrewd to keep those turned humans in the dark about their world.
Historically, the Lykae couldn’t be troubled to care.
In the past, this set of circumstances had been fortuitous. The Lykae—for all their wild, seething good looks—were single-minded and brutal. And the vampires? With their ability to trace, they would be nigh undefeatable.
The werewolf moved from the shadows, approaching her, and she recognized him as Bowen MacRieve, best friend and cousin to Emmaline’s new werewolf husband. He’d lost weight over the last millennium, but other than that, she sensed that he’d changed little—which meant he was still gorgeous.
“Kaderin.” His golden eyes were vivid, his dark hair thick and long. He didn’t address her as “Lady Kaderin,” as the rest of the Lore did, but then, he didn’t fear her.
“Bowen.” She briefly inclined her head.
“I dinna see you at the wedding. Quite nice affair.”
He’d been at Emma’s wedding, and she’d missed it. “I’m curious about why you are here.”
“I’m entering.” His voice was a rumbling Scottish brogue.
Deep voices were attractive. An unbidden memory arose of the vampire’s gravelly voice breaking between kisses. She shook herself. “You’ll be the first Lykae to do so. Ever.”
He leaned his tall frame against the wall, utterly nonchalant. He was as tall as the vampire, but rangier. Both were rugged, but Bowen probably would be considered more classically handsome.
Comparing him to the vampire? Lovely. As if Sebastian Wroth were USDA grade A?
“Are you alarmed, Valkyrie?”
“Do I look alarmed?” She always enjoyed asking that, since she knew the answer was invariably no. “Why now?” She’d seen Bowen fighting vampires on a battlefield ages ago—he’d been pitiless in the past, and she’d bet that hadn’t changed, either.
He answered, “A friend told me I might have a particular interest in the prize.” Yes, if possible, Bowen was more handsome, but the vampire’s eyes were so very gray, so dark and compelling. If a woman got lost in eyes like Sebastian’s, she’d want to please him in any way he desired. Bowen’s eyes? One glimpse of them, and a woman wouldn’t know whether to jump him or run from him.
Clearly, Kaderin’s blessing was holding, because she didn’t feel even a flutter of desire for the Lykae.
“You know what the prize is?” she asked, but Bowen wasn’t listening. The witches had just arrived—one called Mariketa the Awaited and another woman Kaderin didn’t know—and he was busy scowling at them. “If you’re this easily distracted,” Kaderin said, “I’ll have no problems.”
He bit out, “What are they doing here?”
Kaderin quirked a brow. “They’re here to compete. As they do every Hie.”
She knew the Lykae never purchased magicks from the House of Witches—the Lore’s mystical mercenaries. Kaderin had heard a hundred discountable rumors why, and on occasion, she’d speculated at the truth. She couldn’t imagine life without the convenience of spells—which could vampire-proof chains and
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