The Amazon's Curse by Gena Showalter Page B

Know that we are proud of the strength and tenacity you have demonstrated today.”
    As the female approached, Zane trembled. In rage. Perhaps in fear.
    â€œI won’t let her have you,” Nola vowed, though she knew there was nothing she could do to stop what would happen.

Chapter Two
    The female was going to kill him, Zane thought dazedly, dispassionately.
    She’d won him, however long ago she’d fought for him—one day? Two? Weak as he was, he’d lost track of time. All he knew was that she’d tried multiple times to bed him. But she needed a hard cock for that, and he hadn’t given it to her.
    Denying her had delighted him.
    Now two of those wretched Amazons stood around him, staring down at his naked body. If he hadn’t been half-starved and teetering on the brink of total collapse, those stares would have sent him into a killing rage. He hated being looked at as much as he hated being touched.
    He’d spent too many centuries as the demon queen’s whore, hers to use, hers to hurt. And he’d suffered those indignities willingly, all for the love of a woman. A slave, as he was supposed to be now. Marina, that detestable queen, had promised to set his beloved free if Zane pleased her until she grew tired of him. But she’d never grown tired of him, and Cassandra, his chosen mate, had begun to hate him as a result. Yet, still he’d stayed, determined to finally win his prize.
    And then Layel, the vampire king, had done the impossible and drained the demon queen, finally freeing both Zane and Cassandra, and he’d thought to earn back her love. After all, everything he had done had been for her. Only, she’d fled him. For another man. Perhaps that was for the best.
    Zane was not the man he’d once been. He eschewed females and wanted no part of them. Wanted no part of sex. He shuddered at even the thought of it. The things he’d done…the things that had been done to him…sickness churned in his stomach. Had he eaten that day, he would have vomited.
    But then Nola had walked into his life. Beautiful, passionate, fierce Nola. A woman who hadn’t wanted him, who had rebuffed him. A woman he’d craved with every ounce of his being, despite what had been done to him. A woman the gods had taken from him. He did not know if she’d survived their island game or if the gods had set her free, but sometimes he would swear that he smelled her sweet scent, felt the gentle glide of her hands.
    The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought her a gift from the gods. For why else would he have been able to endure—no, enjoy—her touch and no other’s? Now, he thought that perhaps she’d been another curse. He craved her still, yet like Cassandra he could never have her. What did I do to deserve this?
    â€œI’m strong,” his “owner” said now, drawing his attention, “so of course he desires me. I mean, look at what I did to my competitors! Eighteen against one, yet I owned that arena. But he’s too weak to be claimed.”
    â€œHe needs blood,” another said.
    â€œYes, but if he’s given blood, he’ll be able to raise his head and bite me.”
    Both of the females shuddered.
    Did these Amazons—who abhorred the biting of flesh and the drinking of blood and who thought to rape him to steal a child from him—not realize the child of a vampire would most likely need to bite and drink blood to survive?
    Would they kill the halfling if it proved to be more vampire than Amazon? Even through the haze of weakness, rage sparked inside his chest. He would kill them first.
    Perhaps they meant to feed the child as they’d fed him, he thought next. The idea mollified him somewhat.
    Before his last escape attempt, they’d kept him nourished by allowing him three small cups of blood a day. Who had donated the blood, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. What they didn’t