Page 8 of The Siren (Dark Chemistry #1)

Moonlight lit Angelfire, highlighting his golden coat dark silver and painting his proud tail like an ancient tapestry. His every muscle showed his supreme breed. The Sirens’ palomino only allowed Lucienne to ride him.

Lucienne leaned forward to pat the stallion’s neck, whispering to the splendid animal. In the river of silver light, her midnight hair flowed like a black stream in the wind.

She gave a command. The warhorse shot out like an angel’s wings, his head held high and his neck arched. Together they flew through the dark fury of night.

Jonas, one of Lucienne’s bodyguards, trailed behind on a mare. He was mindful of giving the girl privacy, but always on alert.

Lucienne urged Angelfire toward the edge of the ranch.

She knew her bodyguards hated it when she entered the forest alone, but she couldn’t resist the call of the wilderness—not on a night like this.

She wandered under the beech trees, listening to the rhythm of the forest, of hidden animals on withered foliage and nocturnal birds in the shades of the branches.

From afar, notes from a flute—Vladimir’s flute—floated toward her. He had followed her.

Angelfire neighed when he heard the flute, and Lucienne’s heart fluttered. Vladimir was closer now. When the flute stopped, singing vibrated in the air. “ The wind is its wings ,” Vladimir sang on horseback, then stopped, fumbling for words.

Lucienne’s eyes sparkled as she watched him spur his horse, a black stallion, toward her. His black quilted blazer went well with his short-cropped hair, giving him a tough, boyish look. Vladimir always dressed to kill. My excellent, hot warrior with vanity the size of Paris, she thought.

“Don’t laugh. The words are coming back,” Vladimir shouted and continued singing. “ Embracing the stars is our hobby. Touching the pulse of the sky is the next to do .”

“There’s no such song,” Lucienne said, looking over her shoulder to entice Vladimir to follow her.

“ Together we lift the smoke and fog and shadows from all the haters.” Vladimir ended his singing and trotted his horse toward Angelfire.

“M’ lady,” he greeted her with laughter in his voice.

“If my nightingale’s singing has failed to please you, I beg permission to improvise a poem to praise your beauty which lights the night of the forest.”

“M’ lord,” Lucienne answered. “What brings you here at such an uncanny hour? Are you trying to tempt an innocent, defenseless young girl?”

“Defenseless?” Vladimir chuckled. “All men be damned.” He then ended their playfulness with a concern. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, resting? You haven’t fully recovered yet.”

His horse trekked alongside Angelfire. He was so close now that his leg rubbed against hers. His heat surged through her body.

Lucienne tilted her head and held Vladimir’s gaze.

“And what are you going to do about it?” she purred, noticing its immediate effect on the prince.

His dark, golden eyes roamed her face, predatory and seductive.

Lucienne’s blood raced through her veins like the rapid stream rushing through the forest.

“I’m going to do this.” Vladimir lifted Lucienne from Angelfire and positioned her on his powerful thigh while steadying himself on the back of his stallion.

Layers of dried leaves crunched under the hooves of the horses. There were sounds of a horse heading in their direction. It must be Jonas. But Lucienne had only Vladimir’s warm, hard breathing on her mind.

“Lucia,” Vladimir’s whisper was husky, thick with desire.

“What?” Lucienne sighed as she inhaled his intoxicating male musk mixed with wild summer.

“As long as you walk the Earth,” Vladimir said, “I’ll never be with another.” His thumb grazed over her burning cheek; his smoldering eyes on her pink mouth.

Lucienne parted her lips, heat twirling in her belly. When his trembling hand slipped into her silky hair, now an ashy auburn in the shadowy light, she leaned toward him.

Their lips pressed together.

The starlight squeezed through the black forest’s foliage, wrapping them in its embrace.

This was Lucienne’s perfect night, the kiss of the century.

She tasted him like the spice of the finest tea from the high mountains.

Vladimir deepened his kiss, and Lucienne threaded her fingers through his hair.

His agonized cry overlapped her moans of pleasure.

Cold wind whipped Lucienne’s vulnerable lips.

She fluttered open her eyes. Vladimir’s lips had abandoned her.

He jerked further away from her—his movement was so violent that a patch of his hair remained in her hand.

It was as if she had plucked the fine feathers from of a bird.

Vladimir thrashed on the horseback.

“Vlad, this isn’t funny!” Lucienne scolded him.

He was a drama king, but this was absolutely out of line.

This was her first kiss! Before shouting at him again, she saw his movements turning more uncontrolled—his back arched at a painful angle, his legs jerking like a marionette.

By the time she realized he wasn’t acting, Vladimir had already tumbled from the horse, dragging her with him.

The black stallion snorted and Angelfire whinnied in response, both well-trained horses managing not to trample their riders.

Vladimir gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out. He rolled into a ball on the floor of the damp forest .

“What’s wrong, Vlad?” Lucienne reached for him. Blood gushed from a gap above Vladimir’s left eyebrow. Lucienne spotted a rock sticking out of the thick leaves on the ground. Blood glistened on its sharp tip. She kicked the rock away and tore her sleeve to make a bandage.

Vladimir fended off Lucienne’s hands. “Don’t . . . don’t touch me.” He kicked, propelling himself away from her. “Your kiss burns . . .”

His reaction ripped a hole in Lucienne’s heart.

Was it her Siren blood? Suspicion shot through her.

Sitting on her feet, she nudged herself a few more inches away from him.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.” She managed to sound calm and nurturing, even though she was fighting back tears.

She had pictured her first kiss to be monumental and breathtaking, but never this.

Vladimir was never a whiner. Never a coward. The pain must have exceeded his tolerance. He battered his head on the ground, as if knocking himself out would ease it.

“Damn it, Vlad, just tell me what to do!” Lucienne had never felt so powerless and frightened, not even when she plunged down that cliff in Tibet. But Vladimir, clutching his head now, couldn’t hear her.

“I’ll get you out of here.” Lucienne looked around. Where was the guard when she needed him? She had to leave Vladimir to get help. As much as she wanted to gather him into her arms and soothe away his pain, she knew she couldn’t touch him.

Lucienne mounted Angelfire and urged the horse forward.

The stallion bolted toward the edge of the forest like a golden wind.

Hearing the hooves of another horse close by, she could finally breathe.

“I need help!” she cried, her voice hoarse with frenzy.

She didn’t care if it was friend or foe coming her way. Anyone but her could help Vladimir.

“Lucia!” Kian answered urgently. “What’s wrong?”

“Follow me!” Lucienne turned Angelfire and raced back toward Vladimir.

Kian cursed and spurred his Tennessee walker.

Lucienne realized Jonas must have called Kian, afraid of her running off again.

Kian had given her bodyguards hell for letting her escape with Vladimir to Tibet.

Now they were reporting her every move to him.

For a moment, the forest became eerily quiet, except for the horses’ snorting and prancing.

Lucienne’s throat tightened again—she couldn’t hear Vladimir.

She couldn’t feel him. “Faster, Kian!” she called over her shoulder.

The mare charged into the clearing with explosive speed.

Kian sat tall on his horse like an enraged god.

“Are you hurt?” Kian asked.

“No, Vladimir is.”

Lucienne dismounted before Angelfire stopped. She dashed to Vladimir but hesitated a few yards from him, painfully remembering how her kiss caused his agony.

Kian’s darkened eyes first checked Lucienne before settling on the prince, writhing on the ground. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

Lucienne bit back a sob. “I hurt him.”

“Because he tried to hurt you and got what he deserved?” Kian asked, ready to exact punishment.

“No!” Lucienne said. “I kissed him. My lips are poisonous.” Her fists at her sides, Lucienne started sobbing. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep herself from moving toward Vladimir until she felt her own hot blood trickling over her hands.

For a moment, Kian looked lost, travelling his eyes between Lucienne and Vladimir.

“Don’t . . . cry,” Vladimir struggled to breathe the words. “I . . . I’m sorry I ruined it.”

He was sorry? Sweat gleamed on his paled face. Even writhing in pain he conveyed masculine beauty. A deep ache throbbed in Lucienne’s chest. She’d never be able to kiss him again.

“Don’t cry, kid,” Kian said as he dismounted his horse. “And don’t jump to conclusions. The boy must have done it wrong. There is a right way to kiss. ”

Vladimir snorted and tried to mock Kian’s statement, but his effort turned into painful coughs. Kian moved to Vladimir, pressing his hand on Vladimir’s neck to feel his pulse.

“How is he?” Lucienne asked anxiously. “Stop the bleeding, Kian!”

“A small wound like this is nothing for a warrior,” Kian said, turning on his flashlight.

“Don’t . . . worry about . . . my gorgeous face. . .” Vladimir said. “Nothing can . . . spoil it.”

He was making jokes, which meant he’d be all right. Lucienne sobbed and laughed with relief.