Read Vampires' Consort: Magical Menages, Book 2 for Free Online Page A

delectable juices. The meat was still bloody enough that its scent teased at his fangs, nearly seducing them into descending.
    He looked back and forth between Akila and Jacob, reading their silences and their guarded glances at one another. They were definitely bonding and, from the pregnant feeling in the air—pun intended—something had happened between them during their walk earlier that afternoon. He was glad to see progress toward the goal, but surprisingly annoyed they were getting along without him in the mix. He was attracted to Akila too, and if it were any other situation, he’d have her in bed by now without ever using his vampire mojo. His personal sex appeal was usually enough to drop panties. There’d be no sport in it if he used paranormal powers of persuasion.
    But this was not a normal situation. Akila wasn’t there for sexual games but to produce an heir. God, how he hated that word, as if he was some arrogant nobleman determined to pass on the legacy of his bloodline. It wasn’t like this situation was his choice, but a destiny all three of them must fulfill.
    “I’ve had enough, thank you. It was delicious,” Akila responded to his offer of more prime rib. “Is that your own marinade?”
    “Yes, it is.” He was ridiculously pleased she’d noticed. He didn’t get many chances to cook for others, and Jacob was an unappreciative diner, oblivious to what he ate most of the time.
    An abrupt laugh burst from his guest. Akila clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s a little surreal, discussing cooking with a vampire.”
    “I understand. Would you rather we chatted about how different types of blood taste?” He gave a pointed stare at her long, lovely neck.
    She lifted a hand toward her throat, but caught herself and dropped it back into her lap. “No. But I would like you to explain about bloodlines and why it’s important to mix yours with mine.”
    Valarian pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back. “I suppose it begins with my turning several hundred years go in the Caucasus Mountains.” He’d mentally rehearsed what he would tell her, how he would say it, and was surprised it was difficult to actually speak of the man he’d once been.
    “I was not a good person in my former life. Fighting and killing were both my career and my sport. I was a minor warlord with big dreams of taking over more territory until I ruled the world within my reach, a would-be Khan. Family legend claimed we were descended from a bastard of Genghis himself and an Armenian woman.”
    Akila’s brows shot up at the reference to the Mongolian emperor. Valarian appreciated how her expressive face held nothing back. With this woman, what you saw was what you got, and that was an admirable quality.
    “I was nearly dead on a battlefield after a raid when my sire came upon me. He offered me what every grasping despot dreams of—immortality. When he showed his fangs and fixed me with his gaze, I accepted his offer without hesitation. As I struggled for breath, he drank deeply of me and I of him, and when I woke much later…” He waved a hand. “You know the rest.”
    Akila pushed her empty plate back and leaned against her crossed arms on the tabletop. “Who was he? Why did he choose you?”
    “He was a creature even more brutal and despicable than myself. He could’ve drained me dry and left me dead, but perhaps he saw a little of himself in me and chose to turn me. We remained in partnership for many years, killers both of us.”
    She should’ve looked frightened at his admission, but instead appeared merely curious. “But something changed you. At some point you chose a different path.”
    “I did. And it wasn’t some thing but some one who set me on it.”
    She didn’t need to know all the details of his long life. Some things were too private and painful to share with anyone. Even after all these years, Jacob knew only the bare essentials about his turbulent relationship with