Lothaire by Kresley Cole Page B

vampire.”
    “Made a vampire? In my body? If she’s a goddess, why’s she been digging into me like a tick?”
    He merely stared at her with those creepy eyes, twirling that knife as his blood began to pool on the surface of the table.
    Though he terrified her, Ellie pressed on. “Why would she be inside of me , the checkout girl? Why should I believe she’s . . . divine?”
    “Understand me, girl. I don’t lie. Ever. She was cursed to a human form.”
    “Who cursed her? Why put her in me ?”
    Seeing he had no intention of answering her, she said, “Look, you guys are getting my body out of this deal. I’m getting nothing. You said you liked a good bargain? You should recognize that this isn’t exactly a fair exchange. Would it kill you to tell me why she needs my body?”
    His eyes got a faraway look and deepened in color, telling her his mind was drifting. Dissociation?
    She’d seen the same look earlier today as he’d paced. It occurred to her then that this vampire was not just evil.
    The Enemy of Old might be clinically insane.

    “Another goddess cursed her to a mortal’s form,” Lothaire finally said, struggling to rein back the madness. Focus. “I do not know why you were chosen.”
    “Which goddess?”
    Saroya had a twin, Lamia. Each sister derived her strength from life—Lamia from creating it and safeguarding it, Saroya from harvesting it and consuming souls.
    When Saroya had made a bid for more power, killing indiscriminately and upsetting the balance, Lamia had joined forces with other gods and cursed Saroya to experience death over and over as a human. “The curse of mortality,” he muttered. “Could there be anything worse?” He glanced down, surprised to find himself boring a knife tip into his own thumb.
    “Lothaire, why was she cursed?” Elizabeth continued heedlessly.
    He licked his dripping new wound. “Because she is just like me.” A being insatiable for power. “She saw a play for more, and she took it.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “ Do pizdy. Don’t fucking care.” He was getting sick of others acting as if he’d just uttered nonsense. He killed most who cast him that sharp questioning look.
    But he couldn’t harm the human before him, the female with her steady gray eyes taking his measure. He stared into them for long moments, surprised to find himself feeling more grounded.
    “How could a girl from the backwoods ever get caught up in something so . . . unlikely?”
    Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back in his chair. “I asked myself that continually from the time I first saw you. After all, in the beginning, I had no idea you were anything more than a mere human, had no idea how I could possibly be connected to you.”
    Why was he conversing so readily with her? Perhaps because he knew she would take his secrets to the grave? And soon?
    For whatever reason, the words seemed pulled from him.
    “Imagine my abject disappointment in you, female. Lothaire the Enemy of Old—the most feared vampire alive, the son of one king and grandson of another—paired with a mortal? Much less a mortal of no distinction. I’m given to understand that your people are worse than peasants.”
    Instead of indignation, curiosity lit her face. “Wait. I came first? You didn’t find me because of her? Hey, are you saying you’re a prince?”
    “Yes, peasants ,” he repeated slowly. “The lowliest of the low among humans.” Then he enunciated, “Exceedingly backward and vulgar hillbillies .”
    “Been called worse, mister.” At his raised brows, she exhaled impatiently. “Bootlegger, moonshiner, Elly May Clampett, mountain mama, redneck, backwoods Bessie, hick, trailer trash, yokel, and, more recently, death-row con.”
    “No references to mining? I’m disappointed.”
    Sadness flashed in her expressive eyes. “My father died in a mine collapse. Ever since then, none of my kin will work underground.”
    “Naturally the big bad coal company was at