Deep Kiss of Winter by Kresley Cole

be. Demonstrating his shrewdness yet again, Kristoff had dispatched the other four—Kalev, Demyan, Markov, and Aleksander—in separate directions on the continent to search for the Daci, a rumored hidden enclave of natural-born vampires.
    Rurik alone remained, and only because of his weakness: an uncontrollable temper when in conflict. Not the best trait for a potential ambassador.
    â€œI heard at Mount Oblak that Nikolai’s Bride was fine beyond words,” Lukyan said. He was a bold and skilled fighter—as a Don Cossack, Lukyan had been bred for war—but Murdoch didn’t trust him. There was something off about him, even beyond the fact that he’d died on the other side of the same battlefield Murdoch had perished on. “You saw her. Is she that beautiful, then?”
    â€œShe is.” But not more so than Daniela.
    â€œI haven’t really looked at a woman in so long.” Rurik’s gaze fell to the street below. In his human life, he’d been a simple farmer, a gentle giant, until he’d gone into battle; then he would go berserk. He didn’t wield a sword—he carried a war hammer.
    Rurik’s father had often liked to say that the men in their family were descended from berserkrs. After Rurik had been turned into a vampire and learnedthis new world existed, he’d had to wonder, literally descended from berserkrs?
    â€œWouldn’t matter if you’d looked at women, you’d only see half of them,” Lukyan said with a smirk.
    Rurik had the war wounds to show for his rages. He walked with a marked limp and was missing an eye under his rakish patch. Ignoring the Cossack’s comment, he said, “Have females been showing this much skin the whole time?”
    Murdoch understood his comrade’s puzzlement. He himself had been disinterested in women to the point of oblivion. Until the Valkyrie.
    â€œChrist, look at that one,” Rurik said in an awed tone. Murdoch remembered that even before he’d lost his eye, Rurik had been unlucky with women. He wondered if Rurik remembered that.
    With a leer, Lukyan said, “Maybe she’s the one who’ll tempt me back to life.”
    Pinpricks skittered along the back of Murdoch’s neck as he turned to the object of their attention.
    Daniela. Just there.
    The gnawing ache he’d been experiencing redoubled at the sight of her.
    She was strolling the street below them, her white-blond hair swaying about her shoulders with each of her graceful steps. She wore a wrap of black silk around her hips, with a thin swath of the material climbing up over one breast, around her neck, and down over the other.
    Could she have revealed more of her perfectflesh? Her back and arms were bare, as was a good bit of her chest and flat belly. The only jewelry adorning her were those exotic armbands. A satchel was slung over her shoulder.
    Damn her, she was noticeably braless. And now he stood spellbound by how her high breasts bobbed as she nimbly wound through the crowd.
    She seemed oblivious to the men she left ruined in her wake. They froze, gaping after her as if they loved her and would do anything for her.
    When one male spoke to her and she smiled up at him, Murdoch’s fangs sharpened. The blooding at work again?
    He shook himself, disconcerted by the violent drives racking him. Get control.
    â€œShe’s got to be an immortal.” Rurik’s voice was rough with appreciation, and Murdoch had to check an impulse to hurt his old friend. “Do you think her blood would be like that of Nikolai’s female?”
    It would be, God help me, it would be . . . .
    Lukyan said, “Bedding an immortal. Can you imagine how much experience that one has?”
    Can’t rip out his throat. Murdoch wanted to bare his fangs at them, to growl that she was his. But it would only make Lukyan more determined to meet her.
    What if Daniela blooded one of these vampires? Was that even