Caressed by Moonlight (25 page)

Snarling, Kal whirled around to find Dorian’s violent eyes latched upon him. All the color fled from Kal’s face. The crowd was deathly silent; no one dared to breath. Victoria stood wide-eyed and catatonic. Her husband was alive. It was not possible. She had seen him die. She had watched as Kal buried the dagger in his chest. Dorian’s heavy body had collapsed, his blood seeping into the soil. But there he stood, not ten feet from her. Tears stung her eyes. She had never been so happy in her life. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was alive. Her love, her life, her mate, was alive. She suppressed the overwhelming desire to run to him.

Now, certainly, was not the time to throw herself in his arms and rain kisses upon his face.

“You are suppose to be–”

“Dead,” Dorian finished. “You did try very hard to make that wish of yours a reality but in the end you failed, like always.”

His lips curled into an evil smile as his eyes faded to crimson red.

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“The crown belongs to me,” Kal sneered. “And now, I will take what is mine.”

Kal drew the sword form his belt and charged. The steel shimmered in the moonlight as it sang and slashed through the air.

Dorian skillfully avoided the blade. He waited for Kal to leave his body open; he did not have to wait long. Dorian ducked, the sword swung above his head. Lunging, he tackled Kal and they went tumbling from the stage and fell to the hard earth below. As they rolled Dorian wrestled the sword from Kal’s strong grip and kicked the vampire away. Springing to his feet he tossed the sword up to Falcon, who readily caught the weapon. This was going to be a fair, even fight. No one would be able to contest his victory.

The peasant vampires gasped and scattered, seeking refuge in the castle, stables, and huts. Two extremely powerful vampires were doing battle and no one dared get in their way.

Kal roared, his nails lengthening to claws, his eyes raged with fury as he scrambled to his feet. Dorian’s fangs were bared, his eyes deep pools of black. He stood ready for Kal’s attack, his own lethal claws drawn. Kal slashed the air like a mad man as Dorian danced around him, landing blow after blow, enraging Kal even more.

Lightening flashed and thunder shook the ground as thick rain poured from the sky. The warriors did not notice as they continued to slash at each other, neither acknowledging the pain or the rain washing away their blood. Their clothing hung from their bodies in shreds. Dorian’s white shirt was now stained red as Kal’s black attire clung to his body in strips.

Panic clung to Victoria as she stood watching the fight. It was happening all over again. She could not bear to see Dorian fall a second time. She had just gotten him back. Breaking free of the woman’s grasp, she ran to Falcon.

“Why aren’t you helping him?” she demanded.

Ignoring her, he said, “Gwendolyn, keep the queen back.

We do not need her distracting Dorian while he fights.”

“You bastard,” Victoria cursed. “You should be helping him.”

“This is not my fight, nor my clan” Falcon stated, his voice too cool and too calm for her liking. She was just about to let him know it when her stomach twisted and fire scorched her blood.

Doubling over in pain, the world slowly faded to black before her eyes. Gwendolyn caught her before she hit the hard stage.

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“Jacque’s potion's affect is waning,” she said.

Falcon nodded in acknowledgment. The queen needed attention but he could not leave his friend. If this fight turned in Kal’s favor he would join in, no matter what the law said. He was a knight, he had taken an oath to protect the nobility, though in matters such as these he had no say, and he had no right to interfere.

Raphael intently watched his king from the sidelines and anxiously waited for Kal’s allies to circle in. He would follow his orders and wait for the right moment; fortunately he did not have to wait long.

Dorian howled and fell to his knees in the mud, he had been struck from behind. He wheeled around in time to block the next blow of the sword with his arm. Blood flowed in waves from the wound. Kal, taking advantage of Dorian’s distraction, pulled a dagger from his boot, and buried it to the hilt in the king’s side.

Falcon jumped from the stage, taking Kal down to the rain soaked ground. With a snarl Dorian yanked the dagger from his side and let it fall from his fingers. Falcon stood and backed away, giving Dorian access to the traitor and allowing Kal to regain his footing.

With a loud cry, Raphael and his men rushed in, swords drawn. The battle grew chaotic; the sound of metal clashing and clanking together rang in the night and was carried away on the wind. Lighting cracked, thunder roared, and the rain teemed down with a fury. Mud and blood mixed together on the battlefield until there was no telling them apart.

Falcon returned to the women. Gwendolyn cradled Victoria’s head in her lap and whispered soft words in her ear.

Falcon watched the war before him in silence, the royal jewel encrusted sword resting by his feet. Dorian and Kal fought in the center of the pack of vampires, their allies battling around them.

Cries of pain and the stench of death wafted on the breeze.

Crimson sparkled in the moonlight as it sprinkled down to the mixture of mud and blood.

Dorian lashed out, his claws laying Kal’s cheek open.

Ignoring the pain, Kal continued to fight as blood dripped from his chest and down his torso. With an ear splitting growl, Dorian lunged, taking his opponent to the ground. The two fought like crazed demons straight from hell, scratching, slicing, and biting at each other as they rolled through the mud.

Kal snarled and violently kicked Dorian off him. He scrambled in the mud, his hands frantically searching for a weapon.

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His eyes jumped with hellish delight as his fingers wrapped around a fallen vampire’s sword. He turned and stood, sword raised for an attack. Metal kissed metal, to Kal’s surprise, Dorian wielding the ceremonial sword Falcon had thrown to him. They danced, stepping over bodies as their swords clashed in sequence with the lighting.

Victoria’s cry of pain pierced the lethal red haze clouding Dorian’s mind. He spared a glance toward the stage. Steam floated up from her feverish body as the rain relentlessly cascaded down.

Twisting to the side, he barely avoided a deadly blow and his sword was knocked form his hand. Needing a weapon, he glanced around, mud hindering his search. Kal struck again, the blade slicing open his shoulder. Dorian roared, took hold of Kal’s wrist, roughly pulled the vampire forward, his feet dragging in the mud.

He wrapped his long fingers around Kal’s throat, kicked the sword away, and buried his fangs deep in his neck. Kal hissed as pain coursed through his body like waves of fire. He struggled to free himself, clawing at Dorian’s hand, face, and arms. He kicked the king repeatedly in the shins, but Dorian’s grip did not loosen until Kal was on the brink on death. Kal staggered back after Dorian shoved him away. He crumbled to his knees, his hand over his neck. Dorian knelt down and took up Kal’s sword.

“Bastard,” Kal screamed as Dorian came to loom over him.

“The crown is mine,” Dorian declared slowly, emphasizing every word before he drove the sword home.

With a twist of his wrist, Dorian laid Kal’s torso open, his innards on display. With one last growl, Dorian swung his arm wide, and sent Kal’s head rolling through the mud.

Raphael pulled his own weapon free from the last vampire.

Kal’s allies all lay with their leader, slain on the battlefield, waiting for the rise of the sun, which would turn their bodies to ash. Dorian gave him a curt nodded; Raphael bowed and sheathed his sword.

Dorian’s breath was rough, deep, and rapid. Blood dripped from his hair and clothing as his eyes, ever so slowly, faded to their natural color.

“Dorian,” Ven’s voice was like jagged glass being drawn against his skin. “I had no idea Kal wanted you dead. If I had know, I would have allied with you.”

“You claimed to have seen proof of my death.” Ven opened his mouth to protest. “Save your lies for someone who will believe them,” Dorian snapped. “Get off my land, you are no longer welcome here.”

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Turning from the carnage, his eyes sought out his mate.

Jumping to the stage, Dorian scooped his wife up in his arms. Her flesh was pale and burning. He glanced up at the sky, the moon hung directly above him. Midnight. It was time.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Darkness consumed Victoria as shivers racked her body.

Her blood was on fire and with every beat of her heart a new wave of searing pain washed over her. Her breathing was rapid and shallow; the cool night air stung her throat and spread like ice through her lungs. Her cries split the night as her body shook and contorted uncontrollably.

“Should we try giving her more medicine for the pain?”

Jacque asked.

Dorian shook his head. “It won’t work now, she’s too far into the transformation.”

The witch nodded. Dorian had been standing watch over his wife for the past two hours, not moving, not speaking, and at times it appeared as if he was not breathing. His eyes were fixed on Victoria as she twisted and convulsed in pain on the bed.

Jacque knew the vampire needed to feed. His healing had taken a toll on his strength and the fight with Kal should have drained his power but he stood, like a stone guardian, watching over his wife.

“You intend to feed her?” he asked.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he sat in the armchair beside the bed.

“Is that wise?” Jacque knew Dorian was weak. He had lost a lot of blood and had refused to feed from anyone but his wife. He would not have much blood to give.

“Will you go below and make sure Raphael has rounded up the remaining traitors?”

Jacque nodded and took his leave.

Dorian breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. Jacque had been the only one to follow him up stairs. Raphael and Falcon took it upon themselves to find the remaining traitors, who had not fled. He would deal with them later. His mate demanded his attention now.

She looked so small in his bed. Her sweat soaked the sheets and pillows as her thrashing legs kicked the fur pelts off the edge. His heart beat low in his chest as he sat beside her. He wanted to touch her, to hold her close, but he knew his touch
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would only add to her agony. His fingers would feel like frost against her burning flesh.

“Victoria, can you hear me?” He asked, his voice low and soft. “Probably not,” he sighed. “The transformation steals your senses and all you are left with is pain. It will end soon.” He brought his elbows to rest atop his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I wish I could make it all go away.”

A moan was all that came from her lips as another violent spasm shook the bed. He felt useless. For the first time in his life he was completely powerless. Here he sat, an ancient warlord, a vampire chieftain, tears in his eyes and helplessness tightening his throat. There was nothing he could do. The pain would pass once her body finished its mutation and then she would need to feed. He only prayed that he had enough blood to give. His muscles tensed as he thought of the possibility of someone else feeding her. He could not bear to watch her mouth latch onto another wrist and draw on another’s flesh. He had to do it. He had to be the one to give her nourishment. He was her husband, her mate. It was his duty, his privilege, and his right.

Her scream pierced his ears and echoed through the castle.

He knew the pain got worse just before the end. Her breathing came faster and faster. Her heart pounded frantically. The last jolt seized her body then all was quiet and still, like death. Her face was peaceful and serene. He lightly swept the tendrils of damp hair away from her face, careful to not touch her flesh. Heat still radiate from her and the coolness of his hand would only make her shake once more.

He held his breath as he waited for her to open her eyes.

This was the time in the transition when most women died. For an unknown reason, their bodies would refuse to absorb the vampire venom in their blood. Or their bodies gave out from the stress of the mutation. He sat unflinching, unblinking, as he waited. He could not lose her. Eternity would be nothing without her. She had to open her eyes.

Not able to resist the urge any long, Dorian snatched Victoria to him. Cradling her limp body in his arms, he buried his face against her neck and the mass of moist curls. Tears slipped from his eyes and fell upon her exposed shoulder. He could not go on without her. She was his everything.

“Please,” his voice shook. “Open your eyes.”

Her heart remained silent. His grip tightened as sobs shook his large frame.

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“No,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “No,” his voice grew louder. Still nothing changed. The heat from her body was fading. “No!” the walls quaked from the impact of Dorian’s tormented roar.

All within the keep heard their master’s anguish. Falcon’s heart dropped for his friend. He turned from the group of traitors he had been interrogating; he could no longer look at them.

Raphael did the same and closed his eyes as the memories of his wife’s passing rushed through him.

Dorian kissed her ear. His lips trembled as he whispered the love he had for her. An unbearable coldness settled deep within his bones as splinters of ice crept into his heart.

Tears ran like a stream down his cheeks as he continued to rock her in his arms. His lips moved to her temple, then her brow before he pressed her head to his chest.

A startled yelp escaped his lips as a sharp intense pain cut through him. Victoria’s fangs sank deep into the column of his throat. Her tongue stroked him as her mouth greedily drew on him.

His vision began to blur. He tried to pull away, but her arms wrapped around him, pressing him even tighter to her. Dorian tried again to free himself and again he failed. She had to stop. If she sucked him dry he would die.

“Victoria.” His voice was gruff. “You need to stop.”

She shook her head, her teeth slicing his skin, releasing more of this blood to flow into her ravenous mouth.

His survival instincts took control; he gathered the few remaining shreds of his strength and shoved her back. She hissed as he pressed her down into the bed, his larger frame settling over her. His eyes swirled black as the beast within him raised its head.

He was starving. Razor like canines extended and Victoria tilted her head back, exposing her throat. Dorian gladly accepted her invitation.

Victoria’s sigh of pleasure kissed his ears as he drank deeply. She fisted his shirt in her hands as her body arched against his.

With a satisfied groan Dorian pulled away and licked her wound closed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, as he brushed his thumb across her chapped lips.

“I thought I had lost you,” she whispered back. “Don’t you ever die on me again, Mr. Vlakhos.”

“As long as you promise never to do the same,” he replied.

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“You are so handsome when you smile.” She ran her fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes and inhaled his masculine scent. She allowed it to settle deep in her lungs.

“I love you, my little kitten, and I will never allow death to separate us again.”

She smiled and cupped his face. “And I love you. I wish I had shared my feelings with you sooner.”

“As do I, kitten, but we have an eternity to share our love.”

He sealed his vow with a long deep kiss. Victoria sighed her love for him over and over as their bodies mingled and a blazing passion consumed them both.

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