Love, Rekindled (1001 Dark Nights)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Moscow

1237 AD

It was more luck than planning that brought Jayla to Moscow during the invasion of the Mongolian Golden Horde. The chaos of the ruthless siege meant she could move through the battered city unnoticed.

There was nothing like plundering, pillaging, and massive carnage to provide a distraction.

Blending with the shadows, Jayla avoided the wooden houses and thatched roofs being torched by the invaders. Not only because vampires and fire didn’t mix, but she couldn’t risk being seen by hidden watchers.

The ultimate rule of an assassin was to be invisible. And that’s what she was.

Silent death.

Jayla slowed as she caught an unmistakable chill beneath her feet. The thick layer of ice and snow that coated the cobblestone street wasn’t the cause. It was a subtle warning that crawled beneath the ground and spread throughout the neighborhood. Any demon in the area would know a vampire’s lair was nearby. And if they had a brain, they would turn around and scurry away.

Following the chill toward a house on the edge of the city, she eyed the structure with a lift of her brows. It looked more like a fortress than a home with thick stone walls, narrow, heavily shuttered windows, and a steeply angled roof currently coated in snow. A human had no doubt built it to protect those inside from the cold, as well as from any invaders, but it was a perfect lair for a vampire. No sunlight, no chance of fire, and few access points.

Jayla did a quick circle around the building, searching for any hidden traps. The second rule of being an assassin was: Don’t get caught.

Once satisfied, Jayla chose a narrow door at the back to enter. She waited for a pair of human soldiers to scurry past before wading through the snow to the door. If they had glanced in her direction, they wouldn’t have noticed more than a small figure wrapped in a heavy woolen robe with the hood pulled over her head. Just another beggar. But the third rule of being an assassin: Leave no witnesses.

Once they were gone, Jayla tossed off the robe. Now that she was at her destination, she didn’t need a disguise. She needed speed. The thick material of the robe hampered her movements.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into the cramped vestibule. It was a small, dark space with a low, open-beamed roof and stone floor. There was a fireplace, but it was empty, leaving a frigid bite in the air. Jayla didn’t mind. It would take her hours to wash the stench of the burning city from her skin.

Scanning the darkness, Jayla wasn’t surprised to discover a vampire standing guard in front of the opening leading deeper into the house. Azrael was rumored to be the most lethal mercenary among all vampires. He wouldn’t make it easy for her to sneak up on him.

Thankfully, her arrival caught the male by surprise. And, as usual, the sight of her lulled her opponent into a false sense of complacency. When they looked at her, they saw a female who was as small and delicate as a dew fairy. Her raven-black hair was twisted into elaborate knots and held in place with jade ornaments. Her dark green eyes and the lush temptation of her ruby lips dominated her golden, oval face. A short silk tunic that revealed her slender legs and a jade pendant hanging around her slender throat completed her fragile appearance.

The male blinked, peering through his shaggy brown hair that hadn’t been combed in the past few decades. Probably the same time he’d last bothered to take a bath. Whatever his talents, they didn’t include personal hygiene.

“Who are you?” he growled, prowling forward.

“A gift.” She offered a disarming smile. “For Azrael.”

The male narrowed his muddy brown eyes. “From who?”

Jayla hesitated. Should she lie? No. It was always better to stay as close to the truth as possible. Less opportunity to get tripped up later.

“The Anasso.”

The male stiffened. The King of Vampires instilled equal parts respect and fear among his people. “Why would he send a gift?”

“The Anasso has been impressed by the rumors of such an impressive fighter. He sent me to express his admiration.”

Warily, the guard inched forward. “How do I know you’re not a Trojan horse?”

Jayla frowned. What was he…? Ah. She belatedly recalled the tactical ploy by the Greek humans to conquer the city of Troy.

Her lips twitched. The male might smell as if he’d climbed out of a dunghill, but he was smarter than he looked—a reminder not to underestimate her opponent.

She spread her arms, her lips pursed into a pout. “Do I look like a horse?”

Lust smoldered in the guard’s eyes as he halted in front of her, but he remained suspicious. “Strip,” he commanded.

She blinked as if confused. “Excuse me?”

“I need to make sure you’re not hiding any weapons.”

“Fine.” Slowly turning, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’ll have to undo the fastenings.”

The guard released a growl of anticipation, his gaze locked on the tiny buttons that ran down the length of her dress. He seemed to forget all about his duties as a guard as he prowled forward, his fangs fully extended.

Lifting her arms as if preparing to allow the silky garment to be pulled over her head, she discreetly pulled one of the ornaments from her hair, revealing the thin, silver blade. Oblivious to the danger, the guard reached out to grab the back of her dress, his foul scent making her gag. Impatient to be done with the fool, Jayla whirled, her arm moving in a smooth arc as she turned.

“Hey—” The male’s protest was cut short as her hand impacted, and the blade slid directly into his heart.

There was a choked sound of shock as the vampire glanced down at the elegant weapon sticking out of his chest. Then, falling to his knees, he toppled forward like a tree that had rotted at the core.

Stepping over his body already crumbling to ash, Jayla headed through the entryway to the main room. She halted to glance around the open space with its lofted ceiling and flagstone floor. There was a massive fireplace across the room and a long dining table that could seat at least a dozen guests, along with iron racks that held spears, shields, and rusted swords—all unnecessary items for a vampire. They didn’t need heat, they didn’t eat their meals off a plate, and their weapons were never allowed to rust.

Was this a temporary lair?

She was still pondering the question when a thunderous energy sizzled through the air. Azrael. No other creature could possess that much power. Well, no one beyond the Anasso. Jayla grabbed a second ornament from her hair. This one had the same slender silver blade, along with a powerful curse.

Moments later, a tall male with silvery blond hair cut close to his head and piercing blue eyes entered the room. Jayla gasped. He was…stunning. Even for a vampire—who were always gorgeous.

His face was exquisite perfection. From the wide brow and high, angular cheekbones to the arrogant length of his narrow nose. His mouth was wide and curved into a sensuous smile. Her gaze slid downward, taking in the tattoo that wound around the side of his neck. Were those feathers? And then farther down to the broad, naked chest that narrowed to a slender waist. Her mouth went dry, half expecting him to be fully exposed. She felt a pang of disappointment to discover that he wore heavy leather leggings and boots laced up to his knees.

He reminded her of a lethal Siberian tiger, all sleek muscles and coiled power.

Elegant death preparing to pounce.

Stalking forward, he pulled a slender sword free of the sheath hooked around his waist. “I’ve been expecting you,” he drawled. “Jayla, I presume?”

Sensations clawed through Jayla. Not fear that he’d known she was coming or that he knew her name—she was always prepared for any contingency. No, this was a different unease.

It was awareness. A deep, shockingly intense connection to this male that she’d never encountered before. As if destiny had just punched her in the gut.

Jayla hissed. How was it possible? Was it a trick?

Yes, that had to be it.

She held on to the lame explanation, spreading her feet as he strolled to stand directly in front of her.

“I don’t know whether to be pleased or insulted that you expected me and yet chose to surround yourself with such incompetent guards,” she taunted.

He shrugged, his muscles rippling beneath his pale, satin-smooth skin. “They are temporary guards who came with the house. Unlike your Anasso, I don’t have the desire to enslave my fellow vampires to create an empire.”

She twirled the blade in her hand. Was he trying to distract her? She could have told him the sight of his raw male beauty was already scrambling her brain.

“You think I’m enslaved?” With a blinding motion, Jayla darted forward, aiming the dagger at Azrael’s heart.

The male easily avoided the blow, slashing his sword through the air to drive her backward.

“I assume you willingly joined the cause,” he mocked. “But what do you suppose would happen if you chose to walk away?”

Jayla stepped to the side, telling herself the strange cramping in her stomach was because of his obvious skill as a warrior and not the niggling concern lodged in the back of her mind. Her doubts about the King of Vampires were a worry for another time and place.

“I’d walk away,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

“You don’t believe that. I can see it in your eyes.”

His absolute certainty pissed her off. She feinted to the left before whirling to the side, trying to plunge her dagger into his back. Even if she missed his heart, the silver in the blade should slow him down.

“If you think you can convince me to join your rebellion…” Her words trailed away as she caught sight of the glorious tattoo spread across his shoulders and down his spine.

Angel wings.

She didn’t have time for more than a glimpse before he spun, the sword nearly taking off her head as she fell to her knees.

“Rebellion.” He didn’t press his attack. Instead, he sent her a mocking smile. “Is that what he told you?”

She slashed the dagger at his legs, forcing him back so she could jump to her feet. “Why else would I be here?”

“Because he fears I might reveal the nasty bargain he offered me.”

They walked in a slow circle, like two dancers moving to a song only they could hear.

Jayla frowned. “What bargain?”

“He demanded that I kill the clan chief of Thebes.”

She made a sound of disgust. If he were going to lie, then he should have taken more care to choose one she might believe.

“Leonidas has bent the knee, swearing his allegiance to the king. Why would he want him destroyed?”

“Because he has amassed a fortune that your king not only wants in his treasury, but fears could be used against him if Leonidas decides to challenge him for the throne.” He twirled the sword, his expression annoyingly confident. “And, more importantly, the Anasso lusts after Leonidas’s mate.”

“A lie.” With a flick of her wrist, Jayla sent one of her daggers flying toward the taunting male. It wasn’t only a way to knock him off guard. It was a chance to interrupt his accusations that were stirring suspicions she didn’t want roused.

Azrael knocked aside the dagger with his sword. “Believe what you want. The Anasso arrived here several days ago with a treasure chest and a demand that I take care of his dirty business. When I said no, I assumed he would try and silence me. “

Jayla clutched the cursed dagger that she’d been careful to keep. She just had to get close enough to stick it in his heart.

“Why you?”

“Because I’m the best.” He didn’t sound arrogant. Just certain that he was truly the best.

Jayla narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer to the male. “You aren’t a part of our clan. If the Anasso wanted a rival clan chief dead, he would come to me. I am his personal assassin.”

“He didn’t want you to know because he knew it would reveal that he isn’t the glorious hero he pretends to be.”

She scowled. There was an edge of calm sincerity to his voice that undermined her attempt to convince herself that he was crafting some elaborate lie. Grimly, she forced herself to take another step closer. She needed to end this. Now.

“You’re a mercenary.” She didn’t have to pretend to be interested in his answer, her feet taking her relentlessly closer to him. Close enough to catch his scent. The rich musk of a wild, untamed creature. “Why didn’t you accept his offer?”

He lifted one shoulder. “At this moment, I just want to live in peace.”

“Peace?” Jayla cocked her head to the side, deliberately pausing to listen to the violent commotion outside. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“I have no control over the Golden Horde.”

She spread her arms wide, the dagger mere inches from his chest. “You’re just an innocent victim of circumstances, eh?”

The impossibly blue eyes shimmered with amusement. “I have never been innocent, and anyone who imagines I could be a victim usually ends up dead.”

“Usually?” Another step closer.

“Always.”

Clenching her muscles, she prepared to attack. It was now or never. “I love cutting an arrogant male down to size,” she murmured.

“Stop.” The voice echoed deep inside her, halting her mid-leap. This is not your fight, kiska . Return to your home.”

She clenched her teeth, fighting against the compulsion that held her prisoner. Most vampires could control humans and some lesser demons by seizing their minds. But only a rare few could compel a vampire. It was no wonder Azrael was such a successful mercenary. And why he’d allowed her to enter his lair so easily.

“No,” she hissed, her muscles trembling as she fought against the urgent need to obey his commands.

He frowned as if surprised by her stubborn resistance. “I don’t want to hurt you. Leave and don’t return.”

“I…can’t.” Calling on the skills she’d learned during her years of training, Jayla shattered his powerful grasp on her mind, calling on her secret power. The energy she released didn’t send the male reeling backwards or screaming in pain. Instead, Azrael stood in motionless silence, temporarily frozen in time.

Then, before she could consider the terrible consequences, she leaped forward, stabbing her cursed dagger into the center of his heart.

The blade slid deep as time lurched back into motion, and she jumped backward. Azrael’s eyes widened as if he belatedly realized precisely what had happened. But it was too late. The sword dropped from his hand, and he fell to the floor. Jayla swallowed a cry of dismay, the image of his golden perfection seared into her brain, even as she watched the darkness crawl over his body, turning him to ash.

Jayla prodded herself to leave. There were other guards in the lair. She could sense them. And, eventually, they would come in search of their master. Instead, she dropped to her knees. She’d done exactly what she had come to do: destroy the male who’d threatened her king.

The last thing she expected to feel was as if she’d stabbed the dagger into her own heart.

Reaching up, Jayla grabbed the jade pendant hanging around her neck. With a quick yank, she broke the golden chain. Then, pressing a kiss to the delicate talisman her maker had given to her the day she became a vampire, she laid it next to the sword.

“Forgive me…”