Zane's Tale

Published by Jill Myles at Smashwords.

Copyright 2010 by Jill Myles

Art by http://km245.deviantart.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author's permission.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

About This Book: This is a short story involving Zane the vampire (of the Succubus Diaries). It takes place between Succubi Like It Hot and My Fair Succubi.

Zane’s Tale

Some days, eternity was far too long.

Zane awoke from the day-slumber to see the queen looming over him, her sharp fingernails scratching a pattern onto his bare shoulder. Her red eyes gleamed with interest as his eyes met hers. Nitocris’s mind pressured his own, overwhelming his senses with the possessive murk of it. Need and an angry urge to possess flared through his brain. The thoughts were not his, but hers.

“I have decided you will feed me again today,” Nitocris said, her voice a low, throaty hum full of triumph.

Punishment. Again. Careful to hide any emotion, Zane swung his legs over the side of the marble bier and extended an arm toward her with an almost bored expression. “Eat up.”

The queen smiled, revealing her razor-sharp teeth. She crooked a finger at him, slowly beckoning. “Give me your neck.”

Anger and resentment burned through him, and were quickly drowned out by the force of her will. No vampire could shut out the queen, or the heavy, dominating thoughts she impressed on their minds. Zane closed his eyes as he was forced to his knees so he wouldn’t see her triumphant look.

His thoughts were of Jackie as the queen’s mouth descended on his skin.

*~*~*~*~*

When the queen was finished with him, he escaped the mansion’s grounds and emerged into the cool night air. The sun was no more than a suggestion on the horizon, and the stars were coming out. He sucked in several deep breaths, hating the memory of the queen’s mouth on his throat, her low growls of pleasure, and the throaty laugh she gave when she realized he was stiff with hatred.

For four thousand years, he’d willingly – and gratefully – served at her feet. Took every command as if it were his own desire, sought to anticipate her needs before she even requested them. Her demands had been his own. He had been the queen’s loyal and devoted prince. And somewhere in the last year…it had all changed. Instead of looking forward to her evil tasks and sadistic whims, he was torn. He thought of Jackie every time the queen sent him out. His thoughts were consumed by the succubus and how innocent she was in comparison to him, and how trusting. She’d loved him. That love and faith in him made serving Nitocris unbearable.

But he’d endure, because it kept Jackie safe.

The blood craving rolled over him, making his wings twitch and his skin crawl. The blood need was always present, always strong. Tonight, he loathed it. Reaching for his cigarettes, he crammed one between his lips and lit, desperate to have the nicotine hit. Cigarettes helped dull the blood need, but only a little. His teeth ached, as if reminding him of what he had to seek very soon.

“Can I bum one of those?” A figure emerged from the shadows and grinned, all fangs and leather jacket. One of his brothers – Caleb, freshly awakened from his night sleep. Caleb was one of the youngest looking vampires – yet he was just as old as Zane, and cut from the same cloth. A ringed tattoo around one eye tried (unsuccessfully, in Zane’s opinion) to make him look a bit older. “I’m fresh out of smokes.”

Zane tossed the pack to him. “Keep it. I’m about to head out.”

He didn’t have to say where he was going – everyone with wings knew. Blood had to be acquired every night in order to survive. And he’d feed, even though he’d hate every moment of it. He would do what he had to; he always did.

Zane smoked in silence next to Caleb, watching as the mansion was vacated by a flood of vampires, each one seeking his nourishment for the evening before heading out on whatever task that the queen had given her lackeys. The skies filled with them for a brief minute, the sound of a hundred pairs of rustling wings bringing a sharp bolt of nostalgia to Zane’s chest.

What a perverted, dark existence he was living now, he thought with a wry smirk, and dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing his boot heel over it. He shrugged off his jacket and spread his black wings, flexing them wide with an almost orgasmic feeling. The wind brushed against his feathers; it was one of the best sensations in the world. Perverted and dark his existence might be, but not without a small perk. The blood gave him wings, and in the end, he did not regret the blood.

He only regretted that the queen kept him from Jackie.

To his surprise, Caleb was still there at his side, cigarette in hand as he watched Zane prepare to fly off.

“Something troubling you, brother?” Zane asked in a light tone, distracted. Maybe tonight he could feed quickly and head back to New City. Check in on Jackie over at her apartment. See how she was doing without him. Was she happy? Sad? Was she even thinking about him? These were answers he wanted, and he wasn’t above spying in windows to get them. Jackie would never have to know he stopped by – nor would Nitocris. Quick and brief, and take the edge off of his longing for her. No one need be the wiser.

Caleb’s face twisted in a wry grin, the circular tattoo around his eye contorting as his eyes crinkled. “You aren’t yourself, brother. It’s concerning to me.”

Concerning in that Caleb wanted to be the prince, and was looking for an angle to support his own cause. Zane smirked at the other vampire. “And who am I, if not myself, Caleb?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Caleb said easily, grinning as he took another drag on his cigarette. “I thought you were done with that piece of tail you left to that fuckface Noah?”

His entire body tensed, but Zane forced himself to slowly flex his wings, as if testing the wind. “She’s in the past. A momentary diversion, that’s all.”

Caleb flicked his cigarette onto the ground. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know that I entirely believe it.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Zane said in a tight voice. “My loyalty is to Nitocris.”

“Only because she has your balls in a vise. I’d be curious to see what happens once she loses control of you.”

Zane said nothing.

Caleb just grinned. “I’ll be watching you.”

“You do that.”

*~*~*~*~*

Club Midnight was crawling with the usuals. Zane knew this even before he gave a quick nod to the bouncer and stepped past him into the club. It was early yet – the sun had set only a short time ago – so the dance floor was only lightly populated. That was fine, as he wasn’t interested in dancing. He gave the bartender a fist-bump in greeting and touched the door behind the bar, stepping into the antechamber that weeded the posers from the vampires and their chosen female snacks for the evening. It was completely black in the antechamber, but he didn’t need light to see – vampire eyes could see just fine in darkness. He nodded at the vampire on door duty and moved past, descending into the secret basement of Midnight, where the real action happened.

Like every night, the downstairs was packed. The room down here smelled of vodka mixers, perfume, and the undercurrent of sex and blood. The air was thick with a haze of cigarette smoke. Vampires lounged in the booths or hung out at the bar. A few played pool at nearby tables. There was a dance floor down here, but it was empty, and the heavy bass thump from upstairs was a mere suggestion. Women – vampire groupies – flitted back and forth between red-eyed men in trench coats. The girls laughed and flirted, a mixed drink in hand, clothed in indecent outfits that would make strippers pause. Most of the women wore their hair up, the better to expose a long, pretty neck.

There was a well-stocked bar and bartender just for the patrons of this secret room. As was his custom, Zane headed to the bar and lifted a finger. He didn’t have to order – he’d been coming to the same place almost every night for the past three decades and always ordered the same thing. The bartender passed him a shot of jäger, and went back to serving the other customers. Zane downed it and glanced around, waiting for someone to approach. Someone always did.

He was not disappointed.

A blonde sauntered up to the bar, her long, sleek hair swinging as she leaned over and gave him a smile. The calculated move exposed her neck and the multiple bites already lacing her throat. "Hi Zane," she purred. She slid up on the barstool next to him and crossed her tanned legs under the hot pink leather miniskirt. A tight white tank-top that outlined her alert nipples completed the outfit. "Long time no see, baby."

He'd bitten this one before. He didn't remember her name, though, and her pretty face was a blur in his memory. She didn't matter. None of them did. And when she leaned over and placed her hand on his thigh, he gripped her by the hair and sank his teeth into her tilting neck. Hot, salty blood filled his mouth and he drank, the curse ebbing for the evening as he did so. Underneath his grasp, she tensed, a moan of delight escaping her throat. She quivered under him, her body wracked by an instant orgasm.

It turned his stomach. As soon as the bloodlust had ebbed, he shoved her away.

She wasn’t the kind to take no for an answer, though. Her eyes glazed with lust, her body still trembling from the orgasm he’d just given her, she reached for him, the flirty smile glued to her lips. “Kiss me? Make me feel it again?”

A half smile of self loathing curved his mouth, and Zane leaned in.

She eagerly followed close, licking her lips.

His mouth brushed her ear, a gentle motion that belied his harsh, unforgiving words. “I want nothing to do with you. Step away if you value your life.”

Startled, she jerked away and blinked at him, but he got up and left before she could protest. He didn’t want her – he didn’t want any of the women in the room. His thoughts were entirely of a redhead with a wry smile that liked jeans and t-shirts.

Drinking from another woman didn’t ease the ache he had for Jackie. Not in the slightest. It was a means to exist - no more, no less. He’d endure it until they found a way to be together. Until then…he was stuck here. His bleak gaze scanned the club, the figures of the vampires lounging as human women threw themselves upon any guy with red eyes and a jacket. Another woman saw the blonde’s failure to capture his interest and she stepped forward. He turned his angry gaze on her and she froze in place, lost in the power of vampire charm. She remained there, frozen, until one of her friends pulled her away, breaking the spell.

A vampire in the back raised a finger in a gesture, calling Zane’s attention there. Caleb sat with Barnabas at a booth at the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd of women near the bar.

If vampires had friends, they might have been his once. In better times, he’d ran with Caleb and Barnabas, and together they’d wreaked havoc and laughed while doing so. But he’d been distracted lately, and a vampire’s friends were fickle, their allegiance shallow. No one owed anything to anyone…except the queen. And she preferred it that way.

Still, a night of nothing but endless, torturous hours awaited him before he could collapse into daysleep, passing another evening without her. Hanging around the club wasn’t for him tonight. Maybe Caleb and Barnabas had a better idea. So he approached the booth and slid in, nodding to his brothers in greeting.

Caleb grinned wickedly – even after four thousand years of being fallen, he hadn’t lost his taste for mayhem. Once he’d had a youthful face with boyish features and a cap of short blonde hair. But his face had been twisted by years of disappointment and mischief, and the tattoo etched around his eye just made him look slightly evil. No one would mistake him for angelic now. Barnabas was his opposite – plain and unassuming, with a messy fall of brown hair that was a bit too straight and a bit too long. His features were sharper, and he looked older, his eyes narrow.

“Another exciting night, eh?” Caleb said, the boyish smile stretching across his face.

“If you say so,” Zane replied, his tone carefully bland.

Barnabas nodded at him. “We have a little excursion planned tonight. You in?”

Something stirred inside Zane, the surging need to serve and obey. It had been ingrained in them back in the early days of Heaven, when tasks were passed down from the archangels. It was still a difficult habit to shake. The urge to serve was almost as great as the urge for blood, but far easier to ignore. Zane’s mouth curved into a sneer. “From the queen? I’m not very good at serving, lately.”

“So I hear,” said Caleb, the cocky smile not leaving his face. “But we all need distractions, yeah? And this isn’t from the queen. It’s just a little bit of…fun.”

Fun from a vampire’s point of view usually meant revenge on someone that had pissed them off. He clenched his fist and tried not to seem too eager. “Who’s the lucky target?”

“Some Serim dickhead,” said Barnabas, patting his pocket and looking for a cigarette. “We’re going to off him.”

That sounded right up his alley. Zane cracked his knuckles, trying not to seem too eager. All he could see was Jackie’s face before him, and the smug look of that fucking bastard Noah when he realized that Jackie was totally his now, and Zane was out of the picture.

Destroying one of the dickhead fallen seemed like a very good idea. “In,” said Zane.

*~*~*~*~*

Luckily for them, this job would be a quick one. The Serim that was their target was in New City. It didn’t surprise him – no matter where there were vampires, the Serim followed behind, thinking of themselves as somehow responsible for curtailing the actions of their brothers. Stupid bastards.

Barnabas carried a bag with him as the three of them flew through the night sky. Zane knew what it contained – vials of unholy water, molotovs, a bottle that would serve as a phylactery, and silver weapons carved with unholy runes. Both Serim and vampire were near impossible to kill, but where there was determination, there was a way. In the past, when sent on an assassination mission, they’d used the unholy water and weapons to paralyze the Serim, then torched them when they were helpless. An immortal could heal from any wound as long as there was a body left to heal, so they burned their enemies. When the body was nothing but ash, the essence – or halo – of the angel would be pulled into the phylactery and bottled for the queen to drink and absorb as her own.

It was an ugly, messy business. The Serim had caught on quickly and used similar methods to dispose of the vampires, but someone always got sloppy and careless, especially in the modern world. Sometimes Zane wondered if the Serim were all just trying to forget the ongoing war here on earth between the two parties.

The queen would never let the vampires forget. And so they usually got the drop on their fallen comrades.

Barnabas headed toward the tallest building on the skyline, circled around it once, and then began to beat his wings in strong, rising motions, lifting him upward. Zane and Caleb followed behind, rising into the sky as well.

The three vampires landed on a ledge high up, near the top of the building. The design of the skyscraper was a fairly modern one that boasted trendy gothic decor, right down to ornate lintels and showy recesses that no one would see but the pigeons and the rich people who had balconies up this high. It was obvious that the occupants of this building had money. The building rose taller than all the other buildings around it for several stories. Zane calculated there was about fifty floors, and the vampires had landed on the ledge of forty-eight or so, unless he missed his guess. His wings twitched in the night air, feeling the cool ruffling breeze against them. The upper floors boasted a long balcony for the penthouses, and it was here that the vampires landed, amidst several elegantly potted plants.

“Nice digs. Serim bastards always have money, don’t they.” Zane pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up, scanning the building. “So what’s the plan here?”

Barnabas nodded at the window, peering through the mini-blinds. At his side, Caleb grinned, enjoying the anticipation of the kill. “I see someone laying down in there,” Barnabas said, then turned to Zane. “Go to the next window over and see if there’s someone in the other room. This could be easier than we thought.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Barnabas to fuck off. But he couldn’t muster enough of a give a damn to do so. It didn’t matter anyhow – this wasn’t his party. So he shrugged, took a long drag on his cigarette, and then tossed it to the brick, watching it roll off the balcony and onto the streets far, far below. Then, he leapt atop the railing and extended his wings, using them to catch an updraft as he jumped to the next balcony over.

The next room over was lit, a radio blasting. Boxes littered the otherwise swanky apartment, and one box on the couch appeared to be half-packed, clothing strewn on the leather sofa. The room had a masculine decor to it, spare and barren. A man’s apartment – a rich man’s. No surprise given that they were here to off a Serim.

A woman wandered into the room…and Zane staggered.

His succubus.

Jackie was beautiful – every time he looked at her, he was struck anew at how perfect she was. Of course, it was the curse that transformed her into being so very perfect, but he liked to think that she was a mixture of everything he personally loved in a woman. Her long red curls were pulled into a messy ponytail and she wore no makeup. Her skin glowed with good health, a sheen of sweat glistening on her brow, and a few tendrils of damp hair sticking to her forehead. Her eyes were a pale, sated silver. The clothes she wore were messy – an old, paint-splattered t-shirt and yoga pants. She looked amazingly beautiful despite her sloppy clothing. And as she moved through the room, she gave an off-beat little dance to the music, swinging her hips and tossing clothes into the box as she moved.

Hunger swept through him, echoed by a fierce, longing need. She was his. She belonged to him…she was…

She was in Noah’s apartment.

Her eyes were pale because her Itch had been fixed by her Serim lover. Not him. Not the one that should be with her. Hate gnawed at his insides, burned in his core. Zane’s hands clenched. The Serim bastard had won her simply because Zane had to step off the playing field.

For now.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to break through the window and carry her away into the night, Zane pressed a hand to the glass. He needed to hear her voice. Just a small bit to carry him forward into the endless years of servitude that loomed ahead. Years – without her.

She tossed clothes into a box, haphazardly folding them as she bounced around to the music. His fingertips brushed against the thick glass reflexively when her ponytail bounced – he longed to touch her hair, to bury his face in the curling, slightly sweaty mass of it.

A phone rang and as he watched, she crossed the room, slapped off the radio, and picked up the phone, cradling it between her ear and shoulder. “Hello?” As she spoke, she grabbed another shirt and began to fold it. “Oh, hey Remy. What’s up?”

The sound of her voice made his entire body strain with need. He could feel his fangs pressing downward, an instinctive reaction to the woman on the other side of the glass. Her voice – soft and casual – only fueled the flames of his desire. God, he missed her. He’d thought that seeing her again might help quench the ache he carried in his heart for her. He was wrong; this was hell. And seeing her here, happy as she packed clothes in Noah Gideon’s penthouse…it stirred all kinds of emotions – anger, jealousy, longing, love, need, frustration – to the forefront.

And fucking Noah Gideon got to touch her every day. Got to kiss her and run his hand through that messy hair. Got to push her down to the bed and fuck her until she wrapped her legs around him and called out his name.

Zane’s hands clenched. He wanted Noah to die, all for simply being the one that got to touch her while Zane could not.

Her low chuckle made his cock harden, and Zane willed his body to calm, the need raging inside him making him irrational. His body tensed as his ears strained, desperate to focus on her soft voice.

“We leave tomorrow,” Jackie said to the phone. “Yep. Eight months in the wilds of Mexico. I’m so excited! Noah says that it’ll be totally primitive but I don’t care. My first real archaeological dig. I can hardly wait.” A pause. “I know! It won’t be so very long, though. You’re welcome to come with us.” Another pause, then another throaty laugh. “I figured you’d say no, but it never hurts to ask. Noah’s paying for everything, you know.”

Ask about me, he wanted to say. Think about me. His fingertips pressed on the glass, hard. He wanted it to crack under his fingers, to shatter into a thousand pieces so he could swoop into the room and carry her away. It didn’t, though. Bulletproof and reinforced, it saved him from making a mistake.

He couldn’t have her. He’d given her up to save her, and he couldn’t go back on it now.

He removed his hand from the glass, making a mental note to warn Barnabas about the bulletproof glass. Or maybe he wouldn’t. His brothers needed to be taken down a notch in their arrogance, especially Caleb.

Jackie didn’t notice him on the balcony. Her back was to him and she laughed into the phone, still chatting with her fellow succubus. “That’s not funny,” she said after a moment, her laughter dying. Phone cradled against her shoulder, she crossed the room and pulled something out of a dresser drawer.

The conversation paused, and then Jackie spoke again. “I’m not going to answer that.” Annoyance clouded her voice. “You don’t want to hear if I miss him or not, right? So don’t ask me, Remy. I can’t talk about him.”

His entire body stiffened, and he strained to hear what she would say next.

“No, it’s not that. Noah’s great. It’s just…let’s drop it, okay? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She turned and Zane saw her holding a shirt. One of his shirts – a Spinal Tap black tee. He hadn’t realized she’d had it. As he watched, she cradled it to her face, inhaling the scent of it. Her eyes closed and a look of pain crossed her face.

He staggered backward as if struck.

He’d wanted her to miss him, but seeing the pain on her face? That hadn’t been what he wanted at all. He wanted her to be…happy. Her happiness came before his. There was no question in his mind. He’d do everything he could to keep her happy.

The thought was a sobering one. When had he become such a selfless bastard?

“Noah?” She said into the phone, interrupting his thoughts. “Oh, he’s here, but he’s asleep. It’s night and all.”

Shit. Noah.

The Serim dickhead the three of them were about to off.

His most hated enemy.

Zane swore, alighting back onto the railing of the balcony and thinking hard. Jackie was leaving New City tomorrow with Noah, she’d said. She needed to fuel her Itch every two days. If they killed Noah tonight, not only would the archaeological dig she was anticipating never happen…but she’d be forced to find another man to fulfill her needs.

For some reason, the thought of her being driven to another stranger’s arms instead of Noah’s didn’t fill him with the satisfaction he thought it would. Jackie would be devastated by the death of a master, he knew. She might even have feelings for Noah. The thought made him clench his hands in anger. Her world would be ruined if Noah was destroyed.

And Zane couldn’t be there to pick up the pieces.

He swore. Once. Twice.

And then he went to approach his brothers.

Arching his wings to catch the breeze again, he darted across the balcony and leapt back to the other side. Like a parachute, his wings caught the air and allowed him to glide forward, and he landed on the balcony outside the bedroom with a light, noiseless thump.

The other two vampires awaited him with gleaming smiles, their fangs bared.

“This bastard’s in his night hibernation. We don’t even need to juice him up with unholy water.” The look on Barnabas’s face was pure delighted evil as he pulled one of the molotovs out of his bag. “Anyone on the far side of the balcony?”

Zane lit a cigarette and jammed it between his lips. “No one.”

“Really?” Barnabas said in a sly voice, his mouth curving into a smile. “We heard he had some hot piece of ass living with him.”

Fucking bastard. They knew perfectly well who was living with Noah Gideon. And they knew how Zane felt about her. His hands clenched hard and he grabbed the molotov out of Barnabas’s hands before he could light it. “I said, there’s no one over there. And you two jackasses have to listen to what I say.” A thin smile curved Zane’s mouth. “Don’t talk back to your prince.”

Barnabas rolled his eyes and pulled out another molotov. “Fuck you. You want to be the prince, act like it. We ready to do this?”

Zane stepped backward, as if acquiescing to the other two vampires. He gestured for them to begin, and took another step backward, feeling the iron railing of the balcony against his wings. As he watched, Barnabas took his cigarette and held the lit end against the rag sticking out of the bottle. He lifted it, grinning, preparing to throw it through the window and incinerate the sleeping Serim within.

As he moved to toss, Zane twisted and leapt off the balcony, falling through the skies, his wings tucked close. Above him, he heard the bottle smash against the glass window, and heard the cries of the two vampires as they were caught in the molotov’s fireball.

“Dumbasses.” He spread his wings, halting his fall, and began to pump steadily upward once more. As he passed the balcony, he saw the frantic motions of the two vampires – blinded by the fire that had liquefied their eyes, their burning hands desperately patting the delicate feathered wings that were burning like flash-tinder. He hovered near the balcony for a moment, the fanning of his wings starting to put out some of the flames. And he delivered a warning.

“You don’t fuck with that succubus. Either of you. She is under my protection, and because of that, so is the Serim. Understand?” He loomed over them, out of reach of the licking flames, furious with his brothers. Furious that they had set this up purely to fuck with him – and his feelings for Jackie. “You need to remember that I’m one of the bad guys too.”

With that, he tossed the molotov in his hands onto the balcony below, and ignored their angry cries.

They’d heal up in time if they were smart enough to get out of the fire. But they’d remember his warning, and they’d leave his succubus alone.

*~*~*~*~*

The queen was not pleased. Caleb and Barnabas had limped home near dawn, charred pieces of meat that needed serious healing. The queen had allowed them to have one of her precious human pets as an appetizer and had left them locked in a room, ignoring their hoarse screams for revenge.

Revenge was always, always the queen’s decision and no one else’s.

She approached Zane as he knelt before her throne, her face pinched with anger even if her steps were slow and even. He recognized the look on her face. She was not pleased at what she’d learned – no doubt Caleb had spilled the beans as to why Zane had saved a Serim asshole and torched his own brothers.

He’d do it again. He wasn’t sorry. And he found it hard to put the appropriate contrite look on his face. Instead, he couldn’t stop the satisfied smile on his face, even if she was going to make him regret it.

“You have betrayed me…again.” The queen’s voice was icy. She paced around him, moving behind him.

“Mercy,” he said, continuing to stare straight ahead, at the throne she had vacated. “I betrayed your trust, and for that I am sorry.” It was not a true apology. He’d never apologize for maneuvering around her.

Not when it kept Jackie safe.

The queen seemed to sense his reluctance. She reached forward with her hand, her fingernails tearing claws. Ripping pain shuddered through his wings, and feathers rained down around him.

He screamed. His body jerked with pain.

“Hold him there,” she hissed, her voice low and full of rage. Two other vampires approached, held him down. Anchored him there as she tore at his wings again, ripping out one handful of black feathers after another. Over and over as she screamed at him.

Agony whipped through him, his world nearly blacking out. The vampires grasping his arms would not let him slump to the ground. Would not let him escape as she clawed away his reason for living.

No, he thought even in the haze. Not his only reason.

The delicate bones of his wings were half-bare from her ministrations, the web of skin covering them resembling butchered meat. Zane closed his eyes, shuddering, unwilling to look at the destruction.

"You came to me and I gave you wings. I can take them away again," she purred in his mind. Always in his mind.

Not his wings. Not again. He’d do whatever it took to keep them. So he said, “I'll do anything you want.”

Her black eyes grew fierce with anger, and she clenched a bloody hand. “Show obedience to me and only me.”

He knew what that meant. Stop thinking of Jackie. Put the queen first. Always first. She was furious that he’d worked against his own kind to save a lowly Serim and an even lower succubus. For that, he would suffer…unless he acquiesced and showed her his loyalty. A feather fell to the floor, landing on his clenched fingers and leaving a pink stain.

He had to do it. Somehow. What else did he have to live for?

The clawed hand slashed against his wing again, ripping once more. He screamed in pain, nearly collapsing.

“I will do it. I am yours to command.”

He could feel the queen’s smile in his thoughts. “Of course you will.” She released the handful of bloody feathers in her grasp, let them trickle to the floor. “Do not disobey me again, my darling prince. What I gave you, I can take away again.”

The vampires released him. Zane collapsed to the floor, his wings a shredded, white-hot mass of agony.

And yet…he was still glad he’d done it.

For her.

* * * Not the end... * * *

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