Kyn Series Read online

At the strain of the bridal march, the groom leapt to his feet and scanned the back of the hall for a first glimpse of his bride. Kalen bit back a smile, intensely amused by the bundle of nerves his usually implacable friend had turned into. By the way Marak acted, one could have easily mistaken him for a green youth on his first date rather than a centuries-old vampire.

  “Of course she is,” he murmured, completely unheard by his enraptured friend. “It’s her wedding day, where else do you think she’d be?”

  Despite the sarcastic tone, Kalen was delighted for his friend. If anyone deserved a bond-mate it was Marak. And, as an added bonus, a bonded couple was more likely to have children…maybe even female children.

  Despite seeing evidence of it, right in front of him, as Maria took her bridegroom’s hands, Kalen didn’t believe in love. Not for himself.

  He’d been there, done that and she’d been a lying bitch who’d torn his heart out, then danced all over the pieces. Not only that. The child he’d thought was his, the child he’d been so proud of, had turned out to be a cuckoo in the nest. His own daughter…was not his at all. How Astra had managed to keep that one to herself, Kalen couldn’t figure.

  It had been her parting shot, thrown over her shoulder as she’d left him, to be with her lover. A lover who wasn’t a warrior, or even a knight. A knight…he could accept. At least until he had the chance to track the bastard down, and run him through with his blades. But a doctor? The guy didn’t even have the decency to be the sort of doctor who got their hands dirty and helped people. Rather, he was a damn limp-wristed excuse for a man, talking about ‘feelings’ all day. A snake in the grass who had Astra convinced Kalen was a dinosaur throwback to the Kyn’s demon past. That he and all his kind had no place in modern Kyn society and should be put down at birth. No. He’d leave love to those gullible enough to believe in it. Nowadays, he stuck strictly to the temporary physical interpretation of the word. AKA—lust.

  He could fall in lust on a regular basis he’d decided, his gaze wandering over the bridesmaids. As best man, he would have the pleasure, or duty, if any of them looked like the back end of a bus—of dancing with them all. They were all lookers. Most were petite and dark haired like the bride. No doubt family, there was a marked resemblance to Maria in most of them. The Ravensford family had always been a prolific bunch. His gaze moved onto the only blonde in the party. Appreciation rolled through him as he studied her curvaceous figure.

  Well, he….llo, honey, where have you been all my life?

  If he’d been anywhere else, he’d have wolf whistled, but instead, contented himself with leaning back in his chair to get a better look at her. As it was, his appreciation of her mouth-watering figure earned him a glare from the old dowager who sat behind him; the sour faced old prune clucking her teeth and pursing her lips in disapproval. He ignored her and continued his assessment of the mystery woman.

  Tall and slender, she had to be over six foot, unlike the midget-sized creatures around her. Tall enough that he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck when he kissed her. He would kiss her. There was no way she’d slip through his fingers, even if he had to drag her off someplace. One look at that figure, the gentle curve of her neck at the nape as she turned away to listen to another bridesmaid’s whisper, was more than enough to make that decision for him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen her face yet. If it was as perfect as the rest of her, then he would be hard-pressed to stop at just kissing.

  The ceremony started and he was forced to pay attention. He was on ‘pain of death’ from both Marak and Maria, to make sure he didn’t lose the rings or screw up in any way, shape, or form. Marak had a well-earned reputation as a vicious warrior, but Kalen was more scared of what Maria would do to him if he mucked this up. He had a feeling disembowelment was one of the nicer things she had in mind.

  Still curious, he tried to sneak glances at the mystery blonde as the ceremony progressed. All he wanted was a look at her face. Perhaps even the chance to catch her eye and smile. A good one went a long way in this kind of thing. Kalen hadn’t earned his reputation as a Casanova without knowing all the tricks.

  His efforts came to nothing, though. His view was blocked by three other bridesmaids and the tall figure of Garen Ravensford. Garen, however, had noticed his attention. The small grin that spread across the older knight’s face told him that Garen knew what he, the warrior, was doing. Instead of helping him, by and leaning back in his chair so Kalen could see her better, Garen folded his arms and made ‘kissy faces’ every time he looked over.

  Ravensford was a dead man.

  He rocked back on his heels, seething with frustration. All he could see was the long length of a slender leg. Although it was a nice leg, one that threatened to sidetrack him with all sorts of intriguing thoughts, he wanted to see her face.

  Maria and Marak exchanged vows, a curious blend of the Kyn and human ceremony all rolled into one, but he wasn’t paying attention. How had he missed a woman like that in the court? His mind ran over all the families, trying to recall every distant cousin or minor branch of the nobility.

  The ceremony concluded. The congregation stood as the bride and groom made their way back down the aisle. The wedding party took their prearranged places in line to follow them. The only woman he’d ever seen approaching that sort of look was Vixen…his heart stilled in his chest. In fact, his mystery woman was exactly the same height as Vixen, and both were blonde. He turned to look into a familiar pair of green eyes.

  His mystery blonde was Vixen.

  Chapter Two

  The western terrace ballroom had been transformed so magically Vixen’s jaw hit the floor when she walked through the doors. The formal room now looked like something straight out of a fairytale. Swags of white and silver chiffon descended from the high ceilings in loops to wind around the imposing columns. The suits of armor along the walls had been replaced by guards in the shape of cascading floral displays.

  As this was a vampire wedding, there was no wedding lunch. Instead, waiters circulated with trays of champagne for the first toast. Another human custom Maria had insisted on. They’d soon switch to serving blood, though. It was the way of things; and the Kyn court, in fact, the race as a whole, took a while to adapt to any change.

  A small buffet was tucked away in the corner for the human guests, discreetly out of the way. Some of the older guests, the ones who had been born Kyn, found the sight of people eating distasteful. Vixen took refuge near it. If she’d thought walking into the main hall behind Maria had been bad, with all those eyes boring into her, then the reception was a thousand times worse.

  At least in the ceremony no one had been talking. To her—or anyone. Here at the reception it was a different matter. Despite the mingling, only her fellow bridesmaids and the other warriors had bothered to say more than two words to her.

  The other bridesmaids were all human. Maria’s mother had been from a seneschal family, so they all knew exactly what Vixen was. She was surprised to discover they were overawed, being in the presence of the infamous Vixen. She appeared to have become a girl power icon amongst the seneschal women, and at least two of them had asked if she’d ever thought of teaching self-defense.

  Still absorbing that one, Vixen sat by herself sipping champagne and studying the wall opposite to avoid ‘circulating.’ She also ignored the small group of Kyn women nearby. They were all exquisitely dressed in the manner of the wealthy, and besides, they all eyed her with a mixture of pity and amusement. She recognized them, daughters of the wealthy noble houses, and no doubt all madder than wet hens that Marak hadn’t chosen amongst them for his bride.

  Their whispered comments reached her easily. Her knuckles whitened a fraction on the stem of her glass before she relaxed. The last thing she needed was to crush it and spill champagne and blood all over her dress. She ignored the whispers as she had done for years.

  “What does she think she looks like?” they began, “Heels with her height? Complexion’s far too pale fo
r that color. Not talked to anyone but the cattle, you can tell she has no breeding.” Adding insult to injury, they finished with, “Don’t know why they invited her, or the rest of those Neanderthals.”

  She knocked back the rest of her champagne in one go, not caring if that showcased her lack of breeding. Who cared anyway? All it meant was Mommy and Daddy had been lucky enough to be born with a silver spoon in their mouths. She stood in a lithe movement and stalked past the small group of women. Her nerves disappeared as she drew the mask of a warrior over herself. She met their eyes challengingly—the lethal grace of a born predator in every line of her body—then hid a satisfied smile as they nearly fell over themselves to get out of her way.

  They might look down on her for what she was, but at the end of the day, she’d rather spend her time doing something useful like protecting people by fighting the rogue, than live a pampered and useless existence. Wrapped in cotton wool, these women wanted for nothing. The only thing required of them was to look pretty, offer their throats to the guys their daddies picked out for them, and pray like hell they were fertile enough to conceive.

  She curled her lip. Although they were born Kyn, the descendants of demon warriors transported from their own dimension to this one a millennia ago, they’d forgotten the meaning of the word ‘predator.’ Half were probably afraid of their own shadows, and the rest preferred to fight with words. The nobles might consider the warrior caste dinosaurs, but it was the noble class who were slowly killing their race.

  Needing to get away, she headed out onto the terrace. Stepping into the cool darkness, she closed her eyes in relief and turned her face up to bask in the silvery light of the moon.

  Within seconds her peace was shattered by a voice from the darkness. “I wondered how long it would take you to come out here.”

  She turned, startled. It was a familiar voice. One she’d been waiting all night to hear since taking that silent walk down the aisle, his eyes unreadable.

  Kalen’s voice.

  Her heart leapt, did that frantic little dance behind her ribcage as everything female in her screamed, Me. Me. Notice me. It was an instinctive reaction, one she’d tried for years to smother, but it just wouldn’t go away.

  Reality returned as she remembered where they were, and more importantly, how she was dressed. “Yeah, no prizes for that one. Anyone with half a brain can see I don’t fit in with polite society.”

  Her reply was without its usual bite. Surrounded by Kyn warriors, the meanest sons of bitches out, she was expected to be mean and tough…so she was. A ‘Grade A Bitch.’ She hid her true self, one of a gentler and more sensitive nature, so no one, especially Kalen, would see it. She just couldn’t muster the mask at the moment. She was too far out of her comfort zone, dressed up in unfamiliar finery and feeling as though she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her.

  She walked over to the stone railings that bordered the terrace, next to a set of steps that led down into the gardens. Her hands rested on the cool stone as she took in a breath of night air. Planted with the Kyn in mind, the gardens were filled with night blooming flowers, the gentle scent soothing her agitation for a moment. A tranquility that only lasted a few seconds as his voice sounded right beside her ear. She jumped a little. She hadn’t heard him move. The last time anyone had been able to sneak up on her like that was…years ago.

  “You look different dressed up.”

  His voice was a whisper of sound in the darkness that sent a warm shiver down her spine, as if he’d reached out and run a large hand over her sensitive skin. She ignored it and snorted.

  “No shit, Sherlock. You’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

  There was silence behind her instead of the derisive chuckle she expected. Instead, she felt him lean closer. So close, she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, whispering across the tiny hairs on her skin.

  “No, but I like it.” His deep voice dripped with temptation. Whirling around, she expected to see a grin on his face as he made fun of her again.

  But he didn’t, his dark eyes unreadable.

  “You look stunning.”

  He lifted a hand to tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ear. She shivered at the touch, unable to take her gaze off him as his fingertips trailed over her cheek.

  “Yeah right.” Her voice was a croak, her mouth suddenly dry. He’d only touched her cheek, yet her body was going haywire. “To hear them talk in there, you’d think…”

  She clamped her mouth shut midsentence, appalled at what she was about to say, ready to admit her innermost fears to him. She’d learnt early on never to let anyone see the chinks in her armor. Childhood bullies driven to their ways by the marks on her face and body had taught her to keep everything safely inside.

  It was too late, she’d said enough. She watched as realization flooded Kalen’s eyes. Even at Vixen’s height, she had to look up to meet them.

  “Ignore them, they’re just jealous.” His voice wove magic out of the moonlight and darkness, sending a shiver up her spine. She wanted to believe him, his words like a balm to her injured feminine pride. Then he surprised her.

  “Dance with me?” he asked, holding a hand out to her.

  She couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her as she cast a hunted glance at the tall windows, the light from the festivities inside spilling out into the night. She couldn’t bear to go back in, have them all watching her again, dissecting her every move, probably hoping she’d trip and fall over her own feet.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to go back in yet,” she admitted, although she desperately wanted that dance. Just one, then tomorrow they’d go back to sniping at one another.

  “Neither am I… I came out to escape as well. Out here, just you and me.” His voice was low and persuasive, and his gaze never left hers.

  It was her fantasy come true. Vixen reached out and placed her hand in his without speaking.

  Of course, in her fantasies—the ones she woke hot and flustered from—he’d pull her hard against him. Then, his hands would mold her softer body to his as he would plunder her lips, then draw her deeper into the shadows where…she would pull herself together, her heart racing, before the betraying blush on her cheekbones had the chance to warm half the city.

  She met his gaze as he pulled her into his arms, their bodies moving slowly to the music that filtered out onto the terrace. Slow and seductive, under any other circumstances, she’d never have agreed to dance to it with anyone, much less Kalen. Rock and heavy metal were more her style. But, the romance of the occasion mellowed her and she relaxed in his arms.

  They fit together well, moving so naturally it was as if they were made for each other. She sighed softly, the unaccustomed champagne flowing through her veins. It wasn’t enough to make her tipsy, she was too experienced to make that sort of mistake, but it was enough to relax her guard several notches.

  When the music changed to something slower, more romantic and Kalen pulled her closer, she didn’t argue. Instead, she sighed in pleasure and gave into the temptation to lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his hard male body against hers.

  She had no idea of time as they danced, moving slowly to the music with his arms around her, hers around him. She felt safe and protected, a feeling Vixen had never experienced before. It was a feeling she found she liked. Eventually, Kalen stopped moving and murmured her name.

  She looked up, blinking as her eyes as they readjusted to the darkness, only to find he’d moved them farther into the shadows at the edges of the terrace, well away from the ballroom doors.

  “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he whispered, tilting her chin up to claim her lips.

  Chapter Three

  Hot. That was the only way to describe the way Kalen had kissed her the night of the reception. Hot and wildly erotic. Days later, Vixen still felt the imprint of his lips on hers, the way he’d tasted and the electric heat that had swirled through her body in respon
se. Flushing at the memory, she hooked her towels over the rail and stepped under the shower. A groan left her lips as the hot water eased her sore muscles. Muscles she’d abused in her workout trying to escape that memory, especially the part where they’d been interrupted, and she’d panicked and fled like a startled teenager.

  Neither a heavy duty workout, nor trying to avoid Kalen, seemed to be working, though. Since the reception, Vixen had been switching patrols at the last minute. Taking the late patrol if Kalen was on early and the early one if he was on the late roster. That way, she only saw him for a few seconds in the main area of the compound. Even then, she kept her head down and avoided his gaze.

  Like tonight for example. They’d both been on the early patrol, but with Marak off after the wedding, their patrol had been broken down to cover gaps in the other teams until he returned. At the last minute, Vixen had managed to swap patrols with a guy from Mikal’s team who had wanted to get back early to spend time with his mate.

  She rinsed the last of the shampoo out of her hair and smoothed it back in a slick pelt down her back. She turned her head as her sensitive ears picked up a sound from the other room. A frown creased her brow as she snapped the shower off and listened.

  Nothing.

  “Hello?” she called out just in case, wondering if one of the guys had wandered in by mistake. Although there was only one of her, Marak had made sure she had her own shower and changing room. Didn’t need the rookies falling over their own tongues the first time they had to take a shower he’d said. Early on, with each batch of rookies, the older warriors had dared them to try and sneak a look at Vixen in the showers. A bizarre initiation ritual, it tended to die down after she bounced the first few off the walls.

  She stood for a few seconds, ears still perked for any sound from the changing room, until the air on her wet skin made her shiver.

  “You’re going nuts, Vixen.”