Royal House of Shadows: Part 1 of 12

By Gena Showalter

Originally published as Lord of the Vampires.

Part 1 of 12 in the Royal House of Shadows serialization. All 12 parts were previously published as full books:• Lord of the Vampires by Gena Showalter (Parts 1—3 of Royal House of Shadows)
• Lord of Rage by Jill Monroe (Parts 4—6 of Royal House of Shadows)
• Lord of the Wolfyn by Jessica Andersen (Parts 7—9 of Royal House of Shadows)
• Lord of the Abyss by Nalini Singh (Parts 10—12 of Royal House of Shadows)

The princess, the vampire

Jane Parker has lost just about everything when she wakes upinto a life she never could have imagined. The vampire Nicolai has lost his memory and hisfreedom. It's his cry for help that whisks Jane from Oklahoma to the kingdom of Delfina.On the run from the witch who wants to reclaim Nicolai as her sex slave, he and Janediscover an undeniable attraction. But he has a secret that could devastate them both…

This installment is approximately 23K words

The story continues in Royal House of Shadows: Part 2 of 12

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne
• Release date: Oct 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781488024993

Gena Showalter

Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over seventy books, including the acclaimed Lords of the Underworld series, the Gods of War series, the White Rabbit Chronicles, and the Forest of Good and Evil series. She writes sizzling paranormal romance, heartwarming contemporary romance, and unputdownable young adult novels, and lives in Oklahoma City with her family and menagerie of dogs. Visit her at GenaShowalter.com.

Book preview

Prologue

Once upon a time, in a land of vampires, shape-shifters and witches, the Blood Sorcerer coveted the only power denied him: the right to rule. He and his monstrous army attacked the royal palace, slaughtered the beloved king and queen of Elden and sought to do the same to Nicolai, the crown prince, as well as his three siblings, Breena, Dayn and Micah.

The sorcerer succeeded in all but the latter. He had not counted on a king’s hunger for retribution and a mother’s love for her children.

Just before expelling his final breath, the king used his power to fill his offspring with an unbreakable need for vengeance, ensuring they would fight for eternity to claim their due. At the same time, the queen used her power to send them away, saving them. For the time being.

Only, the king and queen were weak, their minds fogged from pain, and their magic conflicting.

And so, the royals were now bound to destroy the man who had slain their parents, yet they were also cast out of the palace, each flung to different kingdoms within the realm with only one link to the Royal House of Elden: a timepiece, given to them by their parents.

Nicolai, the Dark Seducer as his people called him, had been in bed, but not alone. He was never alone. He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch; and after his youngest brother’s birthday celebration, he’d adjourned to his private chamber to sate himself on his newest conquest.

That’s when the dual natures of the enchantments struck him.

When he next opened his eyes, he’d found himself in another bed—and not with his chosen partner. He was naked still, only now he was chained, a slave to the very desires he’d evoked in his lover. Desires that had mingled with the magic and sent him straight to the Sex Market, where he was quickly sold to a princess of Delfina, his will no longer his own, his pleasure no longer his own, his timepiece stolen and his memories wiped from his mind.

But two things could not be taken from him, no matter how fervently the princess tried. The cold rage in his chest and the blistering need for vengeance in his veins.

The first, he would unleash. The second, he would savor. First with the princess, and then with a sorcerer he could not quite remember, but a sorcerer he knew he despised all the same.

Soon.

He had only to escape...

Chapter 1

I need you, Jane.

Jane Parker read the note a second...third...and fourth time. Her hand trembled as she placed the yellowed paper and the leather-bound book that had come with it on her kitchen countertop. She studied the box the two had arrived in: plain and brown, with a blanket of worn, faded—bloodstained?—velvet wrapped inside. A few minutes ago, she’d returned from a five-mile jog to find the box waiting on her front porch.

There’d been no return address and no explanation.

Who needed Jane and why?

Was this a joke she didn’t yet understand?

Um, you have no friends.

No way could she actually help anyone.

At twenty-seven, she’d only recently regained the use of her legs. She had no family and no job. No prospects of any kind. Her little cabin in Smallest Town Ever, Oklahoma, was secluded, barely a blip in the neighboring expanse of lush green trees and wide-open sky.

She should have tossed the package, but of course, curiosity far outweighed caution. As always.

She turned her attention to the book, reaching out to brush her fingertips over the spine—and gasped with horror. At the moment of contact, her hands had appeared to be covered in blood. She stumbled backward, lifting her hands to the light; they were clean, her nails neat and painted a pretty morning rose.

You have an overactive imagination. That’s all.

Cold hard logic—her best and only friend.

She returned to the counter and, trembling, opened the book. The binding creaked, but her world remained the same. As she flipped the pages, the scent of dust and musk wafted up, layered with something else. Something...mouthwatering and slightly familiar. Sandalwood, she realized. A tattered pink ribbon torn from a woman’s shirt or dress lay in the center of the book.

A twinge of pain shot through her legs, and she eased onto a bar stool. The trace of sandalwood thickened, goose bumps breaking out over her skin. Her blood heated.

The book smelled like her dreams.

Since the car accident that ruined her life eleven months ago, a man...no, a vampire had stolen into every single one of her dreams. Dreams that had seemed as real as memories. He’d been chained, battered and bruised, and he’d peered at her as if she were the last drink of water, the last bite of food. The last rainbow in a world without light.

Shivers racked her, the memory as potent as reality.

The book. Focus on the book, not the dreams. Right. The pages had yellowed and turned brittle with age, now delicate. And beaded with blood? She frowned. Small dots of dried crimson marred the edges.

Gently she brushed her fingertips along the handwritten text, her gaze catching on several words. Chains. Vampire. Mates. Soul.

Vampire...chains... Just like her dreams.

More goose bumps arose, the tingling intensifying.

What was going on here? The scientist in her demanded answers.

How could anyone have known about her dreams? She’d never spoken of or written about them.

Perhaps other forces are at work...

No. No way. But...

Maybe. Never discount the improbable.

She’d worked in fringe science for over a decade, having gotten an early start, and she’d studied what the world considered creatures of myth and legend. She’d conducted controlled interviews with actual blood drinkers and even dissected the corpses brought to her lab...and vivisected the live ones.

Those vivisections...

They were the main reason she’d quit her job. She’d realized the quest for answers had come at too high a price, tainting her love of science. Besides, there was never a solution, only more problems; when one puzzle piece slid into place, twenty more appeared.

In the end, nothing she’d done had proved her theory: by using immortal DNA, humans could be brought back to life or made immortal themselves. She hadn’t been able to save her loved ones the night a random guy had thrown back a few cold ones at the local bar, climbed into his car and hit theirs.

Now Jane lived like the rest of the world, her life passing in a bubble of normalcy and monotony. Nothing strange happened. Nothing out of the ordinary, and that was just the way she liked it.

Jane cleared her throat and read, ‘Chains circled the vampire’s neck, wrists and ankles. Because his shirt and pants had been stripped away, a loincloth was his only apparel, there was nothing to protect his already savaged skin. The links cut him to the bone before healing—and being sliced open once again. He didn’t care. What was pain when his will, his very soul, no longer belonged to him?’

A wave of