Free Crouching Tiger, Forbidden Vampire (Love at Stake) by Kerrelyn Sparks

to many different camps in the last two months. The guards are always the same. They wonder why Master Han wears a mask. During the day, when Han locks himself up for his death-sleep, it is safe for them to speculate. Some say he wears the mask to hide a hideously disfigured face. Disease or fire, they say, and it must have happened before he became a vampire. Some claim he is simply ugly as a reflection of his evil soul. Others argue that cannot be, for no one is more evil than the demon Darafer, and he is fair of face.
    I believe Master Han wears the mask to hide his many faces. There is the face he adopts for me. Kind, caring, gently spoken. He wishes to keep me safe. He will take care of me. His words are always warm, but his eyes are cold. I am unsure whether to trust him.
    There is the face he uses when he addresses his army. He is fearless, masterful, in charge. When I see it, I believe he is strong. I am tempted to trust him.
    Then there is the face that reacts whenever there is trouble from the evil vampires and shifters. He claims they are persecuting him for no reason. They want him dead. He doubles the guard and goes into hiding. When I see this, I believe he is weak. I know not to trust him.
    When his soldiers are defeated, he screams in rage and his men cower, for he will seize a man and take him into his private room for feeding. We can hear the man scream before he grows quiet. Then Han returns with the dead body, ripped to shreds and sucked dry. When I see this face, I fear him.
    I complete the fifth row of papers taped to the wall just as I hear the lock being turned. I have no windows in this underground lair, but I sense it is nighttime. Han visits me every night, so I step away from the wall and steel my nerves.
    The door opens. He stands in the doorway, and the candlelight in my room makes his golden mask gleam. He enters, and the guards close the door.
    His cold eyes inspect me while he speaks softly, his voice laced with kindness. “How are you today, son? Did you sleep well? Do you have enough to eat?”
    I bow my head in greeting, wishing he wouldn’t call me “son.”
    “Did you learn to write any new words?” He glances toward the wall, and his body stiffens.
    I feel the anger growing inside him, and I step back.
    “Why do you persist in this nonsense?” His hands curl into fists as he turns back to face me. “Why can’t you do as I ask? I take good care of you. I told you to trust me!”
    He lifts a hand as if to strike me, and I flinch. This is the angry face that I fear. I have seen men die when Han is like this.
    His fist shakes, as if he is fighting for control. Then, with a growl, he attacks the wall, ripping the papers down. “How many times do I have to tell you? Your home is gone! I’m all you have left now.” He turns to me, his eyes glowing with rage. “If you want to live, you will trust me.”
    Tears sting my eyes. I am tired of being alone, tired of being afraid. I am tempted to give in. Give up. He will be kind to me if I give up.
    My head hangs in shame, and my gaze falls on the torn papers scattered across the floor. Home.
    How can I give up my home, my heritage? Anger burns in my chest and simmers through my veins. I am dragon. I belong with my own kind. My dragon brother and sister, Huo and Chu, are still in Beyul-La. More eggs are waiting to hatch. I am the oldest. I will be their leader.
    I snatch a paper off the floor and show it to Han. Home.
    He rips it from my hands. “Your home is gone!”
    A tear rolls down my face as I grab another paper and lift it to my chest. Home.
    “You stubborn—” Han growls, then walks away a few feet. His hands clench and unclench, then abruptly he turns to me. “Fine. I’ll take you there. You can see for yourself.”
    My heart lurches with hope. He’ll take me home?
    He grabs hold of my arms, and everything goes black.
    When we land, my nostrils fill with the familiar scent of home—crisp mountain air, pine trees. The sky