Avador Book 2, Night Shadows (28 page)

She returned touch for touch, kiss for kiss, reveling in the firm muscles beneath her fingers, his cool skin. Ever bolder, she let her hand slide down to his hard member, but he eased her hand away.

"Not yet. I can hardly wait now." He bent his head to kiss her nipple, his tongue darting over the tiny mound, licking, sucking, driving her out of her mind with wanting him. She needed him inside her, now, this minute, a need that left her aching for more.

"Ah, sweetheart!" Raising himself atop her, he murmured. "This time may hurt a little, but only this one time. I love you so much."

Spreading her legs wide, she wrapped her arms across his back and clasped her to him. "The hurt won't matter, darling. I want to know your love, all of it."

He eased himself inside her and penetrated her with one quick movement. And yes, it did hurt a little, but the pain was worth it, to know she was giving him pleasure, and joy for herself, too. While he moved inside her and told her of his love, that wonderful warmth blossomed in her belly, that overwhelming expectancy of a crescendo that would leave her breathless.

He moved slowly at first, then faster, faster. When her climax came–ah, when it happened–the two of them shared this beautiful rapture, each of them throbbing in tandem, giving and receiving pleasure. He rested his head beside her, then kissed her again, a kiss that bound them in love.

When their spasms stopped, they lay in each other's arms again, breathing in silent contentment. She knew that no matter what the future held, she would love this man until her dying day.

* * *

"You're going where?" In the late afternoon of the following day, when darkness had fallen and Fianna rested in Gaderian's arms after making love, he had surprised her with his announcement. She couldn't have been more stunned if he had told her he was really a mortal.

"To see the queen," he said as he rose from the bed and drew on his clothes again. Within the faint glow of the room's lamp, she studied his body and knew she would never tire of seeing him.

He dressed, then sat down to pull on his boots, speaking over his shoulder. "Once and for all, we must convince Queen Keriam that the vampires are innocent of killing mortals. Since the bandregas are no more–and Talmora, pray that it is so–there has been no more killing of the mortals."

In the languid afterglow of their lovemaking, Fianna stretched her legs out. She didn't want him to leave; she wanted to make love all night long.

"There are still several of the undead held in the magistrate's dungeon." He slipped his leather belt on and buckled it. "I'm surprised–but grateful–they weren't put on trial long ago. I can only surmise there have been many other trials that have kept the druids busy."

"The druids?" She pulled the velvet bedspread over her, shivering in the chill of the room.

"The druids' tribunal. They try all criminal cases." He smiled in the dim light. "Recall they used to try witchcraft cases, too, when magic was forbidden in the kingdom. Don't you remember when Queen Keriam herself was put on trial for witchcraft, while she was still a princess?"

"Ah, yes, when Midac Balor killed Queen Keriam's father and usurped the throne. I'm not too young to remember that time." She shivered, and not from the cold, pulling the bedspread up to her neck.  "Those were terrible times, with much suffering."

"Until an army under Roric Gamal defeated and killed Midac Balor in battle, when our princess gained the throne." He sighed. "Too bad I couldn't have seen the battle, but of course, it was fought during the day."

"It took several days for news of the victory to reach our home in Ros Creda, but I remember my mother cried with happiness. And when our princess gained the throne as queen, our whole village celebrated for days." She smiled in reminiscence. "And more celebrating when she married Roric Gamal and made him Prince Regent." She giggled. "My brother got drunk for the first time, and the last, too, I believe." She hesitated. "But won't it take you several hours to ride to Emain Macha?"

He grinned. "I won't ride to the palace. I have my own means of transportation."

"Ah, yes, vampires have special powers." She winked. "And they're pretty good lovers, too." She pushed the bedspread aside and quickly dressed, then stood beside him to slide her arms around his neck. "Or this vampire is a pretty good lover, at any rate."

He drew her close, her breasts crushed to his chest, kissing her long and lingeringly. "Don't know when I'll be back. May be the middle of the night. Depends on when I get an audience with the queen . . . or if I do."

She stepped back, a question bursting in her head. "Shouldn't Orrick be the one to talk to Queen Keriam? He does head the vampires, does he not?"

"Supposedly." He scoffed. "But he does precious little for the undead. That's why I'm going to see the queen, to ask to have the vampires released from the dungeon, not only for the sake of those innocents, but to influence the rest of the undead. Orrick has done nothing for them–for any of us–but spends most of his time with his mistresses."

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared up at him. "How in the world did he ever become head of the vampires?"

He shrugged. "Bribery, threats. He wanted the position because of the prestige it brings, but has only brought contempt on himself." He bent low and kissed her quickly, his hands on her upper arms. "Must leave you now. I'll miss you every minute I'm away."

"And I'll miss you." She could never tell him how much.

* * *

"Rather late in the day for an audience, isn't it?" Queen Keriam sat in a velvet-backed chair within the vast Hall of Petition, with her husband, Prince Roric, in a chair next to hers. Wearing a loose flowing blue silk gown, her pregnancy was obvious, this her second child due, for a son had been born two years ago. "We were told that the matter was urgent."

Gaderian bowed to both of them. "Your Majesty, Prince Regent, please let me explain my presence here, so late in the day." He paused, too well aware he was putting his life in jeopardy, for if he couldn't convince them of the vampires' innocence, he might well be thrown in the dungeon, too. Flickering torch lights in iron brackets bathed the room in dim shadows that undulated across the flagstone floor, in one moment lighting their faces, in the next, leaving them in darkness. A statue of the Goddess Talmora presided over one corner, and in another corner the turquoise and gold flag of Avador hung limply, its colors muted in the pale light.

"Sir, we are waiting." A look of impatience crossed the queen's face, the prince's, too.

Gaderian spoke in a rush. "You see, Your Majesty, Prince Roric, I am a vampire." The queen and her husband exchanged shocked glances, but fear seized their faces, too. The queen clenched her hands on the arms of her chair, her knuckles white.

"But we are innocent, madam, innocent of the charges against us," he hurried on. "It was the bandregas–"

"Bandregas! They disappeared from the kingdom years ago, before my time." Queen Keriam waved her hand dismissively.

"Madam, I beg leave to suggest otherwise. Please, I beg of you, let me explain." 

She inclined her head, but fear still colored her face, and that of the prince, too. "Very well."

He gathered his thoughts. "Throughout the years, the bandregas developed a means of making themselves look human, and have mingled with the mortals for lo, these many years. It is only recently that we learned how they accomplished this metamorphosis–enabling themselves to look human. They had a sacred well at Magh Eamhainn–"

"Magh Eamhainn?" She scoffed. "Deserted for years. No one lives there anymore."

"No mortals, madam. Their well water was poisoned years ago. But what poisoned the mortals was a magic elixir for the bandregas, giving them special powers and enabling them to look human. They traveled to the sacred well–at night–at the beginning of every moonphase, when their powers were weakest. After drinking from the magic well, they no longer looked like the demons they were, but human, handsome men and beautiful women. And of course, the children drank also." 

"This still doesn't mean the bandregas have been killing the mortals. How can you prove the vampires are innocent?" Before he could frame a reply, she went on. "As a matter of fact, these vampires were caught in the act of drawing blood from the mortals." She sat back, a satisfied look on her face. "Now, how do you explain that?"

"Madam, it's no secret that the undead must drink the blood of humans to survive. But you must believe me, we do not kill them, and we drink only from criminals that we have caught in the act. Just recently, I drank from a man I found ravishing an innocent woman." He faced them unflinchingly. "But I did not kill him."

Queen Keriam exchanged a glance with Prince Roric, the two of them murmuring among themselves. Gaderian agonized if he was now doomed, destined to suffer in the dungeon, later to go on trial. The druids would find him guilty, of course, and sentence him to die with a stake through his heart. He suppressed a shudder, never wanting to reveal the fear that froze every cell in his body.

Queen Keriam's voice jerked him back to the immediate problem. "Assuming that what you tell us is true–and mind, I'm not saying we believe you–what do you propose we should do about the bandregas? If they remain a menace to the mortals of Avador, how do you suggest we protect ourselves from them? Or shall we let them continue to mingle among the humans and kill them?" she said in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Madam, we have already rid the kingdom of the bandregas." A shocked gasp from the queen and prince stopped him, but only for a moment. He explained about how the vampires, in turn, poisoned the sacred well. "It was a mortal who actually poisoned the well," he said, telling them of Fianna's journey to Magh Eamhainn. "Tell me something, madam, if I may be so bold as to ask.  When is the last time a mortal has died from having the blood sucked from his body?"

Queen Keriam frowned in thought. "Why, I suppose about one moonphase ago."

For the first time, Prince Roric spoke. "That still doesn't prove the vampires' innocence. It may be simply that one of your kind," he said with disdain, "has not killed anyone recently."   

Gaderian struggled for composure. "Prince Roric, we never did kill anyone. My people have always protected the mortals from the bandregas, yet now we are being blamed for the deaths of the mortals. It was the bandregas who were killing humans all along."

The prince bent close to the queen, the two of them conferring in low voices. For the first time since his metamorphosis as a vampire, Gaderian's stomach knotted with fear. His knees stiffened, and fearing they would lock, he shifted from one foot to another.

Queen Keriam spoke again. "Gaderian Wade, this much I will do. At present, we have several vampires in the magistrate's dungeon in the capital. They are due to go before the druids' tribunal this moonphase–"

Alarm jabbed Gaderian.

"–but we will keep them as hostages for two more moonphases. If within that time, no mortals die from blood-sucking, they will be released."

His shoulders slumped with relief, a sensation of overwhelming satisfaction. "Thank you, madam, Prince Roric, I promise you there will be no killings of mortals by my people."

"And we will hold you to that promise. We know where you live and can find you should any such killings occur." She nodded in dismissal. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, madam, and thank you again."

Queen Keriam stood, signaling the end of the discussion.

Gaderian left the Hall of Petition, grateful beyond words and eager to return to Fianna. His wife. Even now, he ached for her, but perhaps, especially now, that he had this trouble behind him.

On the way back to Moytura, he planned his next move. Soon, another moonphase would begin, and he would call for a meeting of the undead, even if Orrick didn't. He must see Orrick removed as leader of the undead and himself installed in that charlatan's place, a task easier planned than done.

* * *

Angus slumped over a table in the Snow Leopard, jerking upright every time someone opened the front door and stepped inside with a gust of cold air. Each rush of air sent the oil lamps swinging and shadows flickering across the room. He raised the mug of ale to his mouth and slid a glance around the room, his gaze focused on each patron of the tavern. Most of the tables were filled, men and women talking and laughing, some playing with dice or other games, the fools! So far, he'd been unable to discover anything about Fianna, nor that rogue who'd taken her away. Fierce anger heated his gut. Where had they gone? Goddess-damn this city and all of its inhabitants, these closemouthed sneaks who pretended not to know anything of Fianna, nor of the man who'd claimed her, not even for the five pieces of gold he'd offered as an inducement. No matter how long it took, she would be his. Once he made his mind up to have something–or someone–he never let anything get in his way. Patience was the key, he felt sure, that, and enough gold. He might increase the amount of gold as a reward, if he had to. Sooner or later, someone was bound to talk. Only a matter of time.

Chapter Twenty-One