NICOLAI’S HEAD WAS a seething cauldron of thoughts, his body a tuning fork of emotion. One moment he’d been fighting the giants, protecting Jane, the next he was shouting in pain, unable to control the turmoil in his mind. Faces, so many faces. Voices, so many voices.

Clutching at his ears, he fell to his knees. The jarring helped. The faces faded and the voices quieted, allowing rational thought to form. Had to…protect… Jane…again… But when he pried his eyelids apart, he saw that the giants were gone.

So was Jane.

He was no longer near the river, no longer in the forest. A barren wasteland surrounded him. What trees he saw were gnarled, their leaves withered. Ash floated in an acidic wind, black snow scented with death and destruction. And he smelled something…rotting.

He recognized nothing.

He turned, saw a snakelike vine slither from one of the trees, then another, both headed in his direction. They dove for him, bit at him and, when they tasted his blood, seemed to cackle with glee. When they dove a second time, he jumped out of the way—and onto a pile of bones.

A need to slay the Blood Sorcerer, the new king of Elden, filled him, consumed him entirely. Was the bastard nearby? If so, this wasteland was Elden. Had to be. Elden. Elden. The word reverberated in his head. And just like that, the faces returned to his mind, forcing their way to the surface of a man somehow unprepared for them. Faces, blurring together, becoming one. A scene built.

A blonde woman crouched in front of him, studying his skinned knee with soft concern in her green eyes. He was a boy, just a boy, and as she chanted a spell and blew warm breath on his wound, peace and love infused him. The torn flesh knitted back together, blood no longer dripping from it.

When the healing process completed, she grinned over at him. “See? All better, yes?” Such a sweet voice, tender and carefree. She brushed his frustrated, angry tears away with her knuckles. The tears had not formed because of any pain he felt, but because he’d wanted, needed, to inflict more damage on his opponents. “You have to stop fighting, darling. Especially boys who are twice your age, and far bigger.”

“Why? I beat them.” And he could have hurt them a lot worse!

“I know, but the more you damage their pride, the more they will hate you.”

“They cannot hate if they do not survive.”

“Besides that,” his mother continued sternly, “you are in a position of power, and they are not. You must be a voice of reason, not a blast of violence.”

He crossed his arms. “They deserved what I did to them.”

“And what, exactly, did they do to deserve your claws in their necks?”

“They hurt a girl. Pushed her around in a circle and tried to look up her skirt. They scared her so badly she cried. And then they touched her. In one of her private places. Here.” He flattened a palm on his chest. “And she screamed.”

The woman sighed. “All right. They deserved your wrath. But, Nicolai, my love, there are other ways to punish those who do wrong. Permissible ways.”

“Such as?” He could think of no way other than what he’d done. Like for like, hurt for hurt.

“Tell your father what they’ve done, and he’ll lock them away or banish them from the kingdom.”

“So that they can do more harm elsewhere? Or one day seek revenge?” he scoffed. “No.”

“And what if you are hurt while you are hurting them?” she demanded.

“I’ll come to you. You are the most powerful witch in all the world.”

Another sigh, some of her upset fading. “You’re incorrigible. And your faith in me is very sweet, if somewhat misguided. Yes, I am powerful, but not as powerful as you will be one day. That’s why I want you to be careful. One day, your temper might cause you to accidentally destroy more than a few lives.”

“All right, Mother. I will try and be careful, but I can’t promise.”

“Oh, your honesty…” She flashed a soft smile. “Off you go. After you pay my spell casting fee.”

He scrunched up his face, leaned forward and kissed the softness of her cheek. “I’m a prince. I shouldn’t have to pay.”

“Well, I’m a queen, so you’ll always have to pay. Go on, now. Find your brother and study with him, my darling. No more running away from your tutors to avenge the world.”

With a wave, he was darting off, away from her—but not for the classroom. He had too much energy and needed to swim. Swimming always calmed him.

In the here and now, darkness swooped in, blanking Nicolai’s mind. Another reprieve. He fell the rest of the way to the ground. One of the vines sliced his cheek, but he hardly noticed. He was remembering his past.

Why was he remembering? Why were the memories flooding him like this?

The healer who had bound his powers had not unbound them. Perhaps more of Nicolai’s abilities had found their way free. That would also explain the split-second location switch. Perhaps those abilities had demolished the glass cage.

Except, a quick mental check proved the cage was still there, his abilities and memories still swirling inside it, faster and faster. However, now streaks of crimson were dripping from the top, eroding the glass. Crimson…blood?

The guards from Delfina? No. Days had passed, and he’d had no reaction to what he’d consumed at the palace. And while he had bitten the ogres, he hadn’t swallowed their blood, unconsciously knowing it was poison to him.

The last person he’d drunk from was Jane. He’d gulped from her neck, her taste so decadent he’d wanted to stay there forever. And maybe he would have. Maybe he would have drained her if the thought of losing her had not slammed through him. That, followed by the thought of sampling the heaven between her legs, had driven him to leave her neck and descend. And he’d never been so glad to end a meal. Between her legs, she was sweeter than the nectar of honeysuckle.

He wanted to taste her there again. Wanted to at last sink inside her, possess her fully, become a part of her. Wanted her passion cries in his ears, her limbs all around him, clinging to him. Wanted her nails in his flesh, leaving her own mark.

Where was she? Had she—?

Another memory grabbed hold of his attention, using so much force he could only grunt with the pain. Images, voices, blurring together, painting another scene.

“Tighten your hold, boy. You’ll lose your sword in seconds with that puny of a grip.”

He was still a boy, a little older now, standing in front of a tall, muscled man. Black-as-night hair, eyes of polished silver. He wore a fine silk shirt and leather trousers, his boots unscuffed and tied just under his knees. A man of wealth, no question. A man of authority and knowledge.

A warrior.

They stood in the center of a courtyard, lovely plants and flowers thriving all around them. The air was sweet, the ground beneath their feet a lush, springy emerald. Smooth marble walls enclosed the entire area, yet there was no ceiling, allowing morning sunlight to pour inside and reflect off the veins of gold. And just above them, balconies opened up from each of the royal bedrooms, welcoming spectators.

A young dark-haired boy was perched on the ledge of the balcony to Nicolai’s right, watching while twirling a dagger. He wanted to puff up his chest and pound. He was about to be all kinds of impressive for his younger brother. He could toss with deadly accuracy, stab with lethal force and, when he concentrated, wield two swords at once.

“Nicolai,” the man in front of him said, impatient. “Are you paying attention to me?”

“Of course not. Otherwise, I would have heard what you said, and you wouldn’t be about to repeat yourself.”

Dayn chuckled.

Father was not amused, and did not reward Nicolai for his honesty. “I have meetings to attend, son. Meetings in another kingdom, which means you will be in charge while I’m gone. I need to know you can defend yourself and those you love. Pay attention. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He focused on the happenings before him, weighing the metal in his hands. “Why must we practice over and over again? I’m good.”

“You’re good, but you need to be great. Last time I managed to stab you in the back so badly you scarred!” There was hard admonishment in his father’s voice. “You must learn to work with all weapons, at all times of the day and night. You must work with one hand, both hands, standing, sitting and injured. Without becoming distracted.”

Nicolai raised his chin. “Why can’t I just kill my opponents with my fangs and be done with it?” He’d done so before. Many times. Until his mother’s prediction had come true, and he’d destroyed an entire village simply to punish a man for beating his wife.

He’d at last taken control of his emotions and hadn’t lost his temper since. That didn’t mean his fangs were useless, though.

“And if your fangs have been pried out of your mouth?” his father demanded.

“No one would ever be foolish enough to remove my fangs. Mother says I’m the most powerful vampire in the world. I can walk in the light, and I can steal power from anyone I choose.”

“No, she says you will be.” His father’s expression hardened. “You are a prince, Nicolai. The crown prince. Many in this world and the other will covet your direct line to my throne. Many will try and hurt you simply to hurt me. You must know how to defend yourself, always, for every situation.”

Nicolai gave the sword another once-over. Long, thin and polished to a vibrant shine. He was not used to its heaviness, or the thickness of the hilt. “Very well. I will train some more, but why are you not teaching Dayn?”

“So many questions.” His father sighed.

“Why must he watch? He’s a prince, too, you know.” And so very eager to learn. Each day, after Nicolai’s lessons, Dayn begged to be taught. Nicolai could never resist him.

He loved his brother, and would die for him. A boy most in the palace feared. Dayn had an affinity with the animals that roamed the grounds, preferring to run with them rather than to walk alongside his own people.

Nicolai understood his brother’s need. Sometimes he, too, felt animalistic in nature, most especially when his temper used to overtake him, shattering his control and leaving only a need to destroy, to hurt others.

“His time will come,” the king said. “Soon.”

“But not the new princess, right? She’ll always be too delicate.” He sneered the last.

“Breena is newly born, and she is not a blood drinker like you and Dayn. She is a witch like her mother. You and Dayn must always protect her. In turn, she will heal your people after battle as your mother used to do.”

Shame had Nicolai looking down at his dirty boots. He was the reason his mother could no longer heal the wounds of others. He hadn’t meant to, but he had stolen her ability. She hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t even yelled at him.

He would do anything to return the ability to her. Yet, he could not. Once taken, he could not give back. Ever. He’d tried, over and over again. The only thing he could do, his mother had said, was learn how to control his newly discovered talent for absorbing the magic of others. And he had, remaining in his bedroom for weeks, reading, studying and practicing.

“Do you think I’ll be a great leader, like you?” he asked.

“I think you and your questions will be the death of me, boy.” The king held out his own sword, touching the metal against Nicolai’s. “Let us begin.”

Darkness.

Nicolai was panting now, sweating uncontrollably. Trembling. His hands ached. He looked at them. He must have clawed at his temples, trying to stop the pain from exploding through him, because his nail beds were bloody, his claws mere stumps.

His father had warned him.

His father. The king.

His name truly was Nicolai. Odette had not lied about that. She’d known who and what he was. They all had. So highborn, Laila had liked to say, and now he knew why. He was a prince. A crown prince, and one day, a king.

A brother to Breena. His sister. His beautiful baby sister with her golden curls. She’d grown into a lovely woman with a heart of fire, despite the fact that she was always protected, always guarded. Nicolai had snuck her out a few times, wanting her to have a taste of the freedom he took for granted. Where was she now?

Dayn, the brother closest to him, as dark and dangerous as the night, and just as beloved. Where was he?

His father, proud and strong. Honorable, determined. Unwilling to back away from any challenge. Where was he?

His mother, soft and gentle, so nurturing, even in the face of his most violent tempers. Where was she?

Micah, the youngest son, so full of life. Where was he?

Nicolai pulled himself into a crouch. Somehow, he had moved out of the forest. He was now in front of a lake. Not the lake he’d shared with Jane. This water was thick and red. Every few seconds, a hissing, snapping, flesh-colored fish would fly from the surface, arch in the air, then dive back in.

The rocks around him were dagger sharp. A hundred yards away, in the center of all that crimson, was a castle. Dark mold clung to the walls, more of those slithering plants crawling in every direction. There was a walkway, a line of monsters patrolling it.

They hadn’t noticed him, but they would. He was out in the open and needed to find shelter. Perhaps feed to strengthen himself. Then he needed to find Jane. She was out there, somewhere. If she was hurt…

She had better not be hurt. He must protect her at all cost. Yet, even as determined as he was, he only managed to crawl a few feet before the next memory hit him, welding him in place.

In this newest scene, he was a grown man, his dark hair shagging around his shoulders. He was bare chested and seated on a bank of rocks, much like the one he’d just seen. Only, the rocks were smooth, the water clear. He’d removed his boots before sitting down, and those were dry, waiting for him on the beach, but his pants were soaked through and caked in salt.

The moon was high, golden, the sky bright with scattered stars. They winked down at him, mocking him with their tranquility. His mind offered more chaos than he thought he could bear.

His father, King Aelfric, was sick.

The healers did not know if he would recover. Nicolai’s mother, Queen Alvina, was frantic with worry. She’d tried countless spells and incantations, yet nothing she’d done had worked. Nicolai had tried countless spells, using the healing magic he’d stolen from her. Not even that elicited favorable results. Alvina suspected foul play, but until she figured out what kind of magic had been used, her hands were as good as tied.

Nicolai loved his father, gruff though the king was. Besides that, he wasn’t ready to take the throne. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready. Becoming king would mean his father was dead, and he wanted his father to live forever.

And, to be honest, despite Nicolai’s best efforts, despite a few years without a single episode, his temper sometimes got the better of him. When that happened, entire villages suffered. He was simply too volatile to rule an entire kingdom.

His father might be gruff, but he was fair. Fair, except when it came to Nicolai’s marriage. Though his father had demanded, ranted, raved, Nicolai had refused to settle down. He wasn’t ready to take a queen.

Being saddled with the same woman forever? That could become a hell as dark as the Abyss. He spent every night with a new female. Sometimes two new females. And once, three.

And all right, fine. Perhaps that lifestyle had grown tiresome. Perhaps the prize was never worthy of the chase. But some of his friends had married, and though a few were happy, the rest were miserable—and there was nothing they could do to change their fate. Marriage was forever.

His father wanted him to wed a princess from a neighboring kingdom, but he had not found one that appealed to him. Giving such creatures his name, sharing his kingdom, would grate every hour of every day.

“Nicki,” a young voice called. “Nicki!”

Nicolai was on his feet a second later, hopping along the rocks and racing toward his youngest brother. The youngest prince was on the beach, beside Nicolai’s boots, and unharmed. Relief speared him.

“Micah, damn it. What are you doing out here? Until you’re older, you’re not supposed to be near the water on your own.”

The little boy screwed up his lips, all determination and courage. “I’m not on my own! You’re here.” A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Damn it.” Just like that, Nicolai’s anger deflated. As always, he could not stay angry with the scamp. Micah looked up to him, wanted to spend time with him, and Nicolai loved that. Loved him. Even though the boy had butchered his name while learning to speak, and his family sometimes still teased him with the nickname. “O-lie.”

At least he had later moved on to “Nicki.”

The females who made their way to Nicolai’s bed often called him by the shortened Nicki, as well, but that invited a familiarity he never seemed to feel toward them, and after a quick admonishment, they never did it again.

He was almost afraid something was wrong with him. He loved his family with his whole heart, but no one else could penetrate the barrier he’d unwittingly constructed.

“Did you come to swim?” Micah asked when Nicolai reached him.

“No, to think.”

“Can I help?” the boy asked eagerly. Golden hair gleamed in the moonlight. He smiled, two of his teeth missing. He was not a vampire, like Nicolai and Dayn, but he was powerful all the same. Though he had a warrior’s heart, he took after their mother and sister in so many ways.

“Of course you can.” Nicolai sat and patted the sand.

Micah plopped down beside him. For several seconds, they breathed in the moist, salt-laden air, silent. Of course, Micah did not do this calmly. He shifted and he kicked out his legs, trying to get comfortable but never quite succeeding.

“Thinking makes me tired,” Micah finally said. “Not like playing.”

Nicolai bit back a smile. “What do you want to play?”

The image changed in a heartbeat, not giving way to a single moment of darkness. Nicolai was suddenly lying in the bed beside his father. Somehow, he knew a few days had passed since his night on the beach.

The king was recovering. Healers had drained him and Nicolai had fed him blood straight from his own vein. Every drop that he could spare, Nicolai had given—and even some that he couldn’t. Finally, success. The poison had been vanquished, and now, the two men were recovering together.

“Pick a female and marry her,” his father said. “If not one of the princesses, someone. Anyone. Please, Nicolai. I nearly died. Might still, though I feel stronger every hour. Please. You need an anchor, like your mother is to me. Someone to pull you back from the madness. Please.”

His father had never begged for anything. That he was now, over this…Nicolai did not have the heart to fight him any longer. He’d been pushing himself to this conclusion, anyway.

“As you wish, Father. It will be done. A princess from a neighboring kingdom, as you’ve already approved.”

Tides of relief permeated the room. “Thank you. Thank you, my son.”

Darkness, there again. Indomitable.

Nicolai heard a female scream, jolting him.

This time, when he came back to himself, he was crouched on a flat rock in the middle of the crimson lake. Closer to the moss-covered castle. The monsters had scented him, and were peering over at him through beady eyes. Their tails swayed, ready to strike at him if he dared move any closer.

The moon was still high, the hooked edges bleeding into a sky covered in a thick film of ash, hiding all the stars.

Those fiendish fish darted around him, teeth chomping at him, closer, closer. He was soaked with sweat, his heart a sledgehammer against his ribs, his muscles trembling. His mind, still lost. Aelfric. Alvina. Names.

Every member of his family now had a name.

Damn it, where were they? Did they still live? How long had he been away from them?

Quite a while, if this landscape was any indication.

He needed to search for them, but that scream…female… His female, he realized. Jane was screaming.

Jane!

His blood burned in his veins, singeing, leaving blisters. Those blisters caught fire, tiny infernos that swiftly spread. With a growl, he pushed to his feet. His boots slipped on the slimy rock, but he managed to maintain his balance.

The monsters tensed. He should challenge them. Wipe the castle stones with their entrails. Yes… His heartbeat slowed, becoming a sporadic fist in his chest. No, he decided next. He would have revenge, would find his family—after. Jane needed him now.

His gaze skated over the violated water, the crumbling cliffs farther ashore, the hideous castle straight from a nightmare. He’d traveled here through his memories. Therefore, it stood to reason he could reach Jane through his memories, as well.

He closed his eyes, pictured her as he’d last seen her. Underneath him. Her naked body splayed for his pleasure.

Her expression was soft and heated, her teeth nibbling on her lush bottom lip. Her eyes were at half-mast, the long length of her lashes casting shadows over her flushing cheeks. That long, glorious mane of honey-colored hair was spread around her, the ends curling.

Her breasts were small but firm, her nipples pink and beaded. He’d kissed them, sucked them. Her stomach was flat, her navel a work of art. He’d licked, down…down. Between her legs was the sweetest patch of honey-colored curls, shielding his new favorite place in this world or any other.

Her legs were long and lean, and they wrapped around him just right.

Nicolai, he thought he heard her whisper.

He would have liked her to call him Nicki. Anything that promoted familiarity between them. He wanted her tied to him, in every possible way, forever. A forever that Jane might refuse to give him. If he had proposed to a neighboring princess—and he did not delude himself into thinking that princess was Odette, making his life simple—someone was waiting for him.

They had not wed, though. Marriage was forever to his people, and his body would react to no one save his wife. But. Yes, but. He would have pledged his name, his life. Easy to dismiss when he’d had no memory of agreeing to do so. Not so easy now, but that wouldn’t stop him.

Nicolai did not want to be without Jane. He wouldn’t be without her. He would find her and return to Elden. She would be his queen.

Elden. This decimated land truly was Elden.

The bloody lake was as much a part of his kingdom as the wasteland he’d first appeared in. His kingdom. Not the Blood Sorcerer’s. A man Nicolai had dreamed of destroying. Would destroy.

Sickness churned in his stomach, because he knew what that meant. The Blood Sorcerer had slain his parents. Aelfric and Alvina would never have allowed their lands to wither like this.

Nicolai ached with the need to return the favor.

Don’t think about that now. Find Jane.

He opened his eyes, realized he had transported himself back to the wasteland. Those slithering vines were closing in… He squeezed his lids shut, imagined Jane, felt his body disintegrate, the ground disappearing from beneath his feet. When next he looked, the lush forest of Delfina surrounded him. However, he did not see the camp or Jane.

He breathed deeply, catching her scent. He kicked into motion, running faster and faster, cutting the distance between them as rapidly as possible. All the while, he continued to picture her, the trees around them, until he blinked and at last found himself in the camp she had constructed.

Unable to slow his momentum, he smacked into a thick trunk and stumbled backward, into the water.

Another scream reverberated in his head, this one louder and far more desperate. His fangs lengthened, slicing into his bottom lip. His hands curled into fists, but his claws, not yet healed, merely tickled his skin. The daggers Jane had made lay at his feet. He strapped as many as he could to his arms and legs.

He started forward, his stride determined. Her scent was stronger now…tinged with fear… Every step closer to her heated his blood with fury. She was marked, his, the path she’d taken suddenly a beacon in the night.

Anyone who had touched her would suffer. It was time the entire kingdom of Delfina—and all the kingdoms in this realm—realized that truth. Even if that meant unleashing the deadliest force of his temper.

I’m coming, little Jane.