Taken by the Vampire King (Vampire Warrior Kings Book 3) by Laura Kaye

Author:Laura Kaye [Kaye, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laura Kaye
Published: 2020-03-02T18:30:00+00:00

“Faen i helvete,” he muttered. Bloody hell. The dossier he’d asked for.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t—he really fucking shouldn’t—read another word, his eyes refused to heed his brain and continued to skim over the page.

He flew forward in his seat. “No. This can’t be.” He slammed his fist against the surface.

Jakob leaned in the open doorway and rapped twice against the jamb. “Problem?”

Henrik chuffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I apparently pissed off the wrong person in a former life.” He tossed the file to the corner of the desk. Jakob could read it for himself.

Or not. He was beyond caring.

Eyeing him warily, his brother retrieved and opened the folder. “Son of a— Her father was a member of The Electorate Council? Jesus, Henrik, that probably means she would’ve—”

“I know.” He held up a hand. He didn’t need the male to finish the sentence, to tell him that, had her father lived, Kaira very likely would’ve been trained among the ranks of the Proffered, as so many of the daughters of The Electorate were.

The Council was comprised of influential human allies who assisted in the prosecution of their war against the Soul Eaters. In exchange for the humans’ silence on the vampires’ existence, their assistance in conducting the war when necessary, and their providing of the Proffered, the vampires gave them protection and blood, which cured many diseases and extended their lives.

Henrik’s debate about offering Kaira his blood roared back to life in his mind. Could his blood cure her leukemia?

“Does she know this?” Jakob asked.

Henrik blinked away his thoughts. “What? Oh. I think not. She was genuine in her surprise about our existence.” Only eight when her parents had died in a car accident, no doubt she hadn’t yet been made privy to that part of her father’s business. And apparently neither had the mother’s sister who raised her.

“Brother, this changes things.” Jakob tossed the folder to the desk.

Weary and heartsick, Henrik reclined into the chair and propped his feet on the corner of the desk. His boots thumped against the wood. He crossed his ankles and got comfortable. “It changes nothing. Pour the akevitt, will you?”

Jakob crossed the room to the small bar in the corner. Norwegians reputed the grain alcohol to be the “water of life.”

If only.

“Bring the bottle,” Henrik said.

His brother settled the bottle and two shot glasses in front of him. The warm scent of the spiced spirit reached his nose as the golden liquor filled the little glass. They clinked and tossed the alcohol back. Heat ripped down his throat and pooled in his gut.

But it still was not enough.

God, nothing would ever be enough, would it?

He placed the glass next to the bottle and didn’t have to tell Jakob what he wanted. He poured and they drank again.

“What happened in there?” Jakob asked, falling into the seat in front of his desk.

“Just lost control.” Henrik topped off another shot glass and wished he had a human’s ability to get shit-faced drunk.

“Bullshit. That was the most controlled I have ever seen you in the middle of one of your rages.

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