In the thrilling, double-sized conclusion to the Dark Lord's Mistress series, Sanda has her fun as Layton while Layton desperately tries to get his body back before he loses the last of his humanity in Dark Lord's Mistress 4, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.
Sanda has been enjoying Layton's body, being a young, virile man and with some of her seductive powers still intact. She doesn't care how much of his life she ruins as long as she has her fun, but she soon learns that her new body is not as invincible as her old.
Meanwhile, Layton and Paine are hunting Sanda down, getting closer and closer, knowing they need to find her before Covaci finds them. Layton is still trapped in Ilana's vampire body, and both Ilana and Sanda are alive in his mind, tempting him towards their sexual desire and dark bloodlust. Every second Layton spends in his feminine vampire form sees his humanity slipping away.
With the Judge and the other two vampires of the Council out hunting for all of them, it's a race against time to get Layton back into his former body. But even if he can become human again, he's still surrounded by monsters who have no qualms about killing his family and anyone he's ever known. He knows that no one is safe while the Judge lives.
Covaci
Covaci silently stalked the creature through the darkness of the labyrinthine dungeon. He held his enchanted silver knife in one hand, prepared for an attack at each fork in the maze of tunnels. Despite the cold and damp a drop of sweat made its way down his collar. The great coat wrapped around Covaci was thick and heavy, lined with enchanted silver filigree. It had already saved his life once tonight when the creature – the vampire – had tried to sink its fangs into his flesh.
He’d been enveloped in its bat-like wings, sure that he was done for, that he’d failed in his goal. But the protective magic in the silver of his coat had worked. The creature roared in pain and drew back, allowing Covaci to slice at its mid-section with his silver-edged knife and draw a gush of hot black blood. The creature had been caught unawares, surprised at being wounded by a mortal. Covaci had followed up on his attack, slicing again and again, severing the creature’s wings and preventing it from flying away. It had scurried, wounded and bleeding, down into the darkness of the castle dungeon.
Covaci had followed the creature to the edge of the pitch black hole leading into the dungeon. He sheathed his knife just long enough to murmur another spell and make the corresponding gestures to enhance his night vision. The hole lightened perceptibly, like seeing the world through the light of a full moon. It also made the vampire blood stand out in a visible trail, the slick wet splashes trailing across the solid stone floor. He’d drawn his knife before stepping cautiously into the dungeon.
Covaci had been tracking the creature for years, following tales told from village to village. Something was feeding off people, dragging them away in the middle of the night. The stories had traced back centuries and were always the same. A powerful creature blessed with the power of flight. A demon. It lived in the shadows and could only be hurt by silver purified by magic. Covaci had mastered magic. And, in confronting this vampire, he now intended to master death.
The creature was here. In this dungeon. Wounded and weak.
Covaci followed the trail of blood deeper into the dungeon, trying to step lightly on his leather boots. But his light footsteps seemed to echo off the walls, abysmally loud in the deathly quiet of the dungeon. He turned a corner and paused, listening. Nothing. And then the faintest whisper from the opening in the wall up ahead to his right. That of cloth rubbing against stone.
Covaci followed it, knife at the ready. As he turned into the opening a figure dropped onto him from above. This one was man-shaped, at least. It grabbed Covaci’s knife hand and they grappled as the man wrapped him up from behind. Hot breath on Covaci’s cheek. A man’s grunt in his ear. Something wet dripped down his hand.
Covaci pushed himself backwards, slamming the man against the wall. Again. And again. The man’s grip on his knife hand loosened and Covaci took the opportunity to drive his elbow into the man’s gut. There was a wheezy shriek and Covaci wrested the knife free, turned and stabbed into the man’s chest and wrenched up until the knife hit bone. The man collapsed and dragged himself backwards.
Covaci stood over him, breathing heavily. The dark trail of blood ended in this room. The man on the floor before him was the creature Covaci had been hunting for so long. Covaci looked down at him curiously.
The man had propped himself up against the wall. He wore common laborer’s clothes, his jerkin slick with blood and one arm pressed against his abdomen where dark blood spurted. He was bald and pail, his teeth sharpened to points. His breathing was ragged and he looked up at Covaci with utter contempt. In time he would heal himself, but for now he was at Covaci’s mercy.
“If you kill me my brethren will mark you for death,” the man sneered, his voice cold as the grave.
“Your brethren do not scare me, Councilor,” Covaci replied haughtily. The vampire’s eyes widened and Covaci grinned. “Yes. I know of your Council. And even with all their power and all their immortality they remain small, scared little creatures. They believe themselves prisoners in a world where they should be masters.”
“You speak nonsense,” the vampire hissed.
Covaci took a step closer to the creature and bent to one knee, his knife out, just touching the vampire’s neck. “There are only three of you left,” Covaci continued as if the creature had not spoken. “I will kill you, then track down the others and do the same. Unless…”
The vampire’s brow furrowed. “Unless?”
“I have magic but I desire more. You have immortality but live like an animal. Together we can rule this world. This is my bargain.” Covaci unsnapped his great coat with one hand and yanked his protective silver necklace off. The creature’s eyes fixed on the necklace, perhaps already feeling the pain it could inflict. Covaci dropped the necklace to the floor. “Make me immortal and I will teach you my magic. Make you rich. Why live in squalor picking off peasants when you can own the land and raise your own flock? Make me a vampire.”
The man paused, searching Covaci’s eyes. “Give me your knife.” The vampire held out his hand.
“I’m not a fool.”
“For me to turn you I must give you my blood willingly.”
“Use your own teeth.” Covaci said evenly, keeping his knife at the vampire’s neck.
The vampire glowered but raised his palm to his mouth and sliced it open with his razor sharp teeth. He held out his palm to Covaci. “Drink.”
Covaci brought the creature’s hand to his mouth. The blood tasted of coppery earth and rich loam. Covaci drank, filling his belly with the creature’s hot blood.
Nights later, two creatures walked out of the dungeon and began to change the world.
Sanda
“Another drink!” Sanda shouted, holding up her empty mug, and the people crowding around her in the tavern roared in approval.
The bar wench took the mug and hurried from the table to fill it. The bounce of her petticoats drew Sanda’s hungry eye and when the wench returned Sanda grabbed her and pulled her into her lap. The wench squealed, splashing ale across the two of them as the men at Sanda’s table roared approving laughter. Sanda was already flush with drink and holding the lovely young woman in her arms made her ardor burn. One thing she’d discovered about Layton’s body in the few hours she’d had it was just how ready it was to snap to attention. Though maybe that was partially Sanda’s powers of attraction still operating, albeit in a somewhat dulled form.
That and her natural charisma were enough to draw a crowd. Her powers, combined with Layton’s chiseled body, made women throw themselves at her while men hung on her every word. Everyone was smitten with her. It was so easy. They bought her drinks, gave her money and gifts. Practically threw themselves at her.
She planted a kiss on the wench’s lips and drew her hand up the young maiden’s bodice. Had anyone else done that it would have come off as crude. But no one minded because it was her. Even the wench laughed.
“Oh, sir!” She feigned protest, but Sanda sensed she wanted it.
Sanda released the wench and led the crowd in another round of songs, ancient songs of bloodlust and vampires. The crowd ate it up and called for more, pounding on the tables. The attention was a drug. Here she could finally be the center of the room, without worrying about her fellow sister wives or her master swooping in.
And – oh! – how she’d forgotten about alcohol. She’d not had it since she was last human some hundred years ago. Like blood when she was a vampire, the drinks made her feel powerful and warm, like she could conquer anything, take what she wanted. Unlike blood, which made her thoughts crystal clear, the ale brought a fuzzy-headedness that dulled her senses but seemed to brighten the world.
Halfway through another song there was a commotion near the door. A young woman pushed her way into the crowd, bringing the song to a mumbling halt.
“Layton! When they told me you were here I didn’t want to believe it,” the young woman said, aghast.
Sanda, still with her hands around the wench’s waist, peered over the wench’s bodice at the intruder. In her hazy state it took her a second to realize that the young woman was Holly, Layton’s sister.
“Ah, my sister. Everyone! My sister!” Sanda shouted.
They raised their glasses and cheered. This threw Holly off. She took a step back and looked around at the assembled crowd, then turned her attention back to Sanda. “Why are you in such a house of ill repute? Why are you not at your apprenticeship? You have thrown it all away for…for this?” She gestured around at the drunken rabble in the tavern. “Have you no shame?”
“Rawl-urca,” Sanda began, and found her tongue stumbling over the words. She tried again: “Holly. A young man needs rest and recreation.”
“Hear, hear!” A drunken young man agreed, pounding the table with vigor and setting off another round of drunken cheers.
“You are drunk!” Holly said, clutching her hands. Her eyes shifted to the wench in Sanda’s lap. “If you value your family you will come home this instant.”
Sanda laughed. “Holly, you don’t know what it is to be a young man. A young man has needs.” She slipped her hand beneath the petticoats of the wench on her lap and felt the spark of her power make the wench shiver. The wench draped herself on Sanda and ran her hands languidly through Sanda’s hair as the crowd laughed and clapped.
Holly gasped. “May god have mercy on you,” she said, turning and holding her petticoats high as she fled out the door.
“Where was I?” Sanda asked. “Ah, yes.” She slid her hand against the wench’s cheek and pulled her in for another kiss.
The crowd cheered as their lips met and Sanda tasted her. She was so soft on Layton’s solid lips, so smooth against Layton’s scratchy cheek. Sanda was at full mast now, her body roiling with need. The wench on her lap wiggled with lust, driving Sanda even more mad with desire. She pulled away.
“The time has come!” She cried. “Tavern-keeper, your finest room!”
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