King of Ruin: A Fantasy Romance (Lords of Sidhe Book 1) Read online

  She forced that thought away, concentrating instead on the closest corpse, not a foot away from her toes.

  The body in the hallway, right in front of the door, belonged to a broad, bald man with tattoos at the back of his skull. Chloe leaned forward.

  "You don't want to touch that door."

  She turned toward the low, suave voice, and found a man standing behind her.

  He wore a sharp black suit with a pristine white shirt and gold cufflinks. She was used to attractive people of all sexes—sups had a tendency to look better than your average Joe, probably thanks to some kind of magic. But he wasn't attractive. He was ridiculous.

  The concept of a man who looked like him should have been entirely absurd. The stranger would have made anyone drool—man or woman, young or old, whether they were into gruff lumberjacks or clean businessmen.

  He had a strange complexion, not quite olive, definitely not entirely white either. She would have guessed he tanned well in the sun, unlike her. His eyes were dark and dangerous, but not as dangerous as his mouth. The things she could do to that mouth! And she'd just seen dead bodies. A new development for her, but she was pretty certain that dead bodies did nothing for her libido. She should not have been in a state to appreciate beauty. His hair was long and brushed back neatly, his facial hair carefully trimmed. Wildness and control, merged into one perfect man.

  No, not man. No man strode quite so confidently. No man made her want to run the other way and leap into his arms all at once. Chloe was a rather simple person at the core: she liked to be friendly and enjoyed the company of people. She’d never met anyone she wished to harm. And yet…something inside her whispered the strangest things. What did his blood look like, feel like, taste like?

  What was wrong with her?

  Then, she realized it had nothing to do with her at all. He was doing something, making her feel a certain way.

  What was he?

  “Not without gloves,” the thing added. “We don't want your prints at the scene.”

  The conversation was too real, too casual. Chloe would have liked to pretend that she’d passed out and was just dreaming the whole thing, but his matter-of-fact tone robbed her of that illusion. She wouldn’t have imagined a man who looked like him and then made him talk about fingerprints.

  He pulled an unexpected object out of his pocket: a phone. His hands would have been better suited to holding a dagger, or at least a gun.

  "It's me,” he said into the receiver. “Rose's Coven, on the hill. Send a clean-up team and call the humans on your leash. It doesn't look good, but I can't stay to investigate." After a beat, the stranger added, "Keep me updated," and hung up.

  Chloe’s eyes were locked on him during the whole exchange, because it beat looking at corpses. Now she glanced back toward the house.

  Oh God. Until now, she’d held her breath, but now she’d made the mistake of inhaling.

  She was going to throw up. That smell. What was that smell? Again, she wanted to simultaneously step forward and run away as fast as her feet could carry her.

  "It's lucky you weren't here."

  The stranger's smooth voice pulled her out of her funk. Chloe suddenly realized that she could have been here. Should have been. Had she not decided to take a couple of days in London, she really would have.

  What was she supposed to do now? She felt incredibly selfish for thinking about herself while towering over three corpses, but there didn’t seem to be anyone left alive here, and those witches were supposed to take her to the Institute. She didn't know its location; her letter hadn't provided it. Chloe knew the school was well hidden—one of the reasons why it was the perfect place for her.

  She crouched down and hugged her knees, keeping her head low, and breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Although it was still incredibly freezing outside, cold sweat gathered on her forehead. The last thing she needed right now was a panic attack. She wasn’t the one in trouble. She could just call Chelle or Charles. They'd tell her where to go.

  "Are you all right?"

  No.

  "Yes," she said. She had all her limbs, and her blood wasn't marring the marble, so, yes, compared to some, she was just peachy.

  "Good. Come on, Chloe."

  Her head snapped to the beautiful creature. How did he know her name?

  Her heart, already thundering, beat even faster.

  "Fuck! You're here to kill me,” she gleaned, wondering why her instincts hadn’t screamed at her, demanded her to run. “Did you kill these people to get to me?"

  The beautiful man laughed low.

  "Darling, by now I could have destroyed you a thousand times, in so many different ways, if I'd wanted to."

  Oh.

  He had a point. She didn't doubt it. There was something so very dangerous about him.

  "What are you?" she asked him.

  The man tilted his head. "You've seen my kind before, if I'm not mistaken."

  His kind…

  Chloe watched him closely again, focusing on his dark eyes in detail. They had a strange glint, and seemed almost blue in a certain light. And there was his skin, which glowed, too clear and perfect. Airbrushed like he'd stepped out of a magazine. And his…

  Teeth. His teeth, poking out under his lip. Elongated canines that hadn’t been there a minute ago caught her attention.

  He was a vampire.

  Chloe understood why she hadn’t thought so at first. She hadn’t seen many vampires, even though she was employed by one. Most of them kept to themselves, even in NOLA.

  The stranger wasn't at all like Charles, who looked like a very strong man, not a…thing. A Greek god. A predator.

  She blushed. "You're not a normal vampire."

  Chloe felt silly the moment the words left her mouth, but they earned her a thin, fleeting smile. "Observant. You'll do well at the Institute."

  The Institute.

  "You know where I'm going?"

  The vampire looked around and sighed. "Yes, I do. And we can't stand here. Come with me, or make your own way. Your call."

  She only had one choice.

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