Caressed by Night (30 page)

Turning from his slumbering mate, Dimitri headed to the shower. He had not explained to Kerstyn that she was his mate, but he would give her some time to process all the information he had shared with her. But, he had to tell her about his vision, about her death. She would need to make a decision, to stay with him in Las Vegas or go with Dorian and Victoria. He did not want to be away from her, especially now that she knew him, the real him. She knew the vampire and the man and she accepted both.

Turning the water on with his mind, he stepped to the sink. As he raised his eyes to the mirror, his vision blurred and his pupils expanded. He saw his friend, Hadrian, king of the Validus Clan. The vampire stood on the edge of a balcony of his castle. Below, the crenellations of the castle’s parapets looked like teeth gnashing in the fleeting light of the moon. Lightning flashed and thunder shook the night.

Dimitri stumbled back as the vision released him. His heart jumped to his throat as his body went cold.

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“He is going to kill himself,” he whispered as nausea gripped him.

He had to contact Hadrian and he could not wait for Dorian to return home and visit Falcon, Hadrian’s second-in-command. He would have to see Falcon now. He had to warn him about Hadrian; they needed to save Hadrian from his madness, from himself.

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Falcon gave a heavy sigh as he closed the door to his office.

Scrubbing his face with his hand, he wondered how many more nights like this he could endure.

His Clan was a mess. He had struggled for one hundred and ten years to bring the civil war to an end, but peace and unity did not last long. For the past one hundred and thirty years, he had been desperately fighting to keep his people from abandoning their homeland and joining other vampire clans. Soon the Validus Clan would be extinct if he could not find a way to reassure his people.

Tonight, he had met with the nobles of his Clan for the fourth time. He listened to their complaints, their desires, and again, they threatened to leave if he did not do the one thing they had been begging him to do since the end of the civil war in 1812. Become king.

With a vile curse, Falcon stalked across the office towards his desk and the crystal decanter of whisky. The alcohol would not get him drunk, but the sweet sting of it slipping down his throat and the warmth it spread throughout his body was soothing.

Hadrian is king and, apparently, I’m the only one who still
believes he will return.

“I have faith.”

Falcon whirled around. His fighting instincts setting alarms off in his head as he drew his gun from the holster hidden beneath his blazer. His hands were steady on the weapon, his finger rested lightly against the trigger even though shock rocked his system.

“It can’t be,” he exhaled in disbelief as his silver gaze scrutinized the apparition before him.

Dimitri smiled as laughter shimmered in his eyes. “The looks of absolute shock and, in some cases, terror, which I receive will never grow old.”

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“This can’t…the stress…it's making me hallucinate.” Dimitri swung his arms wide and slowly turned about. “I am flesh and blood. If you need proof, fire your weapon.” Falcon slowly shook his head as his mind raced with a million and one questions that began with why, what, and how.

“I’ve heard rumors about your return. To see you…for the rumors to be true―” Falcon let his arms drop and the heavy thud of metal against wood went unnoticed by the two vampires as Falcon knelt down, bowing his head.

Dimitri sniffed the air. The faint aroma of poison tickled his nose.

“The bullets?”

Falcon nodded, keeping his head down, he said, “I designed this gun and the bullets myself. This weapon is now standard issue for Black Knights. The bullets are designed to explode upon penetration, the force of which would kill any human or witch and slow a vampire down long enough for the poison within the bullet to claim their immortal lives.”

“Genius. You always were innovative. Please, my friend, rise.” Falcon came to his feet and ran his hand nervously through his hair. Of all things they could be discussing, Dimitri Arsov, the last remaining pureblood vampire was asking him about bullets. This moment was all too…normal that Falcon gave his hair a slight tug. The sharp pain confirmed this was not a dream.

“Sire, if anyone could come back from the dead, it would be you, but how did you pull it off?”

Dimitri removed two envelopes from his back pocket. “I was planning on having Dorian deliver these to you. One is for you and the other for Hadrian. Read it,” he said, handing them over, “it will explain everything.”

“Sire, am I to tell my Clan that you have returned?”

“I would rather you said nothing. I would like to settle things with Ven before I immerse myself fully into vampire society.”

“Understood,” Falcon said with a nod, “but what brings you here? If Dorian was to deliver your message—”

“I had a vision.”

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“You can see the future?” Falcon asked, his eyes growing wide from surprise again. When Dimitri nodded, Falcon added, “You never cease to amaze. I thought Shaw witches were the only beings to possess the gift of foresight.”

“I do not know why I have developed this ability, but it has guided me to this moment.”

Falcon’s brow wrinkled as goose bumps pricked his arms.

Dimitri’s tone was hard and Falcon instantly knew this was not a friendly visit. “What did you see?”

“Hadrian. He was standing on the edge of the balcony of the west wing.”

Falcon was unable to speak as his breath escaped his lungs in a rush.

“He looked as if he were going to jump,” Dimitri said.

Falcon’s heart stuttered to a halt as a chill settled in his bones.

“To die the way his brother had,” he added. “Titus falling from that balcony is what shoved Hadrian into the realm of madness. Jesus,” Falcon whispered, tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, “I have failed my king.”

“You have not.”

Falcon’s dark, tired laughter filled the room. “No? Sire, I mean no offense, but you have been dead for four hundred years. You haven’t seen what has transpired here.”

Dimitri gave a sorrowful sigh, “True, I have been away for quite some time, but I have not been dead. I have merely avoided vampire society like the plague.”

“Right, I assume all of that information is in the letter,” Falcon said.

“Please, Falcon, you must deliver my message to Hadrian and convince him to come back to his Clan, tonight.” Falcon glanced over to the heavy, black curtains covering the window. He knew it was about one in the afternoon. The meeting with the nobles had run two hours over schedule and like most other vampires, they found it difficult to stay awake during the peak hours of the day. But Falcon had never felt compelled to search out his bed in the safety of his darkened room and very few knew why. He was not an ancient like Dimitri or Dorian. He had not developed enough power to
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be able to walk in the sun. If he pulled those curtains aside, he would surely fry. No, it was the blood of his mother that coursed through his veins that helped keep his hunger and other symptoms of being a vampire at a minimum, for she had been a witch.

Falcon’s eyes glanced over at his desk. Inside the drawer was an amulet his mother had given him when he had been changed. It was magic that allowed him to walk in the sun, just as long as he used it sparingly and, right now, he was tempted to grab the charm and drive as fast as he could into the Carpathian Mountains, to the castle where Hadrian lived in self-imposed exile. But with the bright orb high in the sky, he would never find his king. A vampire knew well how to hide from the sun and, for all he knew, Hadrian could have decided to go to ground, bury himself until nightfall.

He would take Dimitri’s advice and go tonight. Visions had their faults; they were usually a glimpse into the future rarely providing a solid timeline of events. His mother often ignored her visions, claiming they were too vague to value. Then again, she had never received proper training from the Shaw.

Shaking his head, Falcon dispelled the thoughts of his mother.

He needed to focus on what was at hand and that was convincing Hadrian to come back to his Clan. If he had ever needed a miracle, it was now.

Dear Lord, please let tonight go well
, Falcon prayed.
I can’t
lose him. He has been like a brother to me.

“I fear Hadrian does not have much time.”

“I will go tonight,” Falcon vowed, his liquid silver gaze turning to hard stone. “I can only pray that he will see me. I can’t remember the last time I had direct contact with him. I visit the castle every two weeks hoping that he will reveal himself to me. He never comes out of the shadows. I leave behind bags of blood and written reports of the Clan, only to return to find them both untouched―”

“He is lost within his mind, Falcon. His past consumes him,” Dimitri said, his heart turning to ice as he thought of how he could have easily gone down the same path as Hadrian. If he had let his memories and his demon take hold of him, he too would want to meet the true death. Desperately hoping to be free of the pain, the guilt, and the shame. Thank God, he had found Kerstyn.

“Sire?”

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Clearing his throat, Dimitri forced his thoughts to focus on the present. “Hadrian needs support and guidance. He needs to be reminded of who he truly is. My letter will help. Please, deliver this directly to Hadrian. There is much he and I have in common.” Glancing to the digital clock that rested on the corner of the desk, he said, “I really must be going. I have faith in you and Hadrian and, even though I have walked the fringes of our society, I never gave up hope. Hadrian will return just as I have returned. Anything and everything is possible.”

Falcon blinked. Blinked again. Dimitri was gone. Just as quickly as he appeared, he had not faded, he simply vanished. Falcon stepped forward, waving his hand through the air where Dimitri had just stood.

Had it all been a hallucination? Everything had happened so quickly. Dimitri was alive. He was going to reclaim his throne and he wanted Hadrian to do the same. It all seemed too good to be true, a perfect dream brought on by stress.

His eyes dropped to his other hand. He still held the letters.

“I’ll be damned,” he whispered to the silence.

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Kerstyn tossed the empty coffee creamer container in the trash before settling down at the breakfast bar with her fourth cup of coffee.

Yep, sure is one of those ass dragging mornings,
she thought.

But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Dimitri had finally opened up to her. He had shared with her something he had never shared with anyone. He had honored her with his secrets and she wished she had something to give him in return. He had revealed his soul to her, but she did not see what he saw. Dimitri believed himself to be evil, ruined, but she saw nothing in him that was evil and he was far from ruined. He was a walking, living, breathing contradiction and he was beautiful, inside and out. He was gentle and hard, caring and vicious, vulnerable and indestructible. He sure was nothing like she ever expected a vampire to be. Then again, how true could movies and TV be?

Kerstyn took a sip of her coffee.

The past three weeks had been a wild ride complete with loops and unpredictable twists and turns. Vampires, witches, and shape-shifters existed. Her boyfriend was an extremely old vampire king, who was about to battle his enemy for control over his Clan. Not to mention, her boss was a vampire and her friend was a witch who was currently training to become some kind of priestess. Then there was everything that was going on between her and Dimitri.

Kerstyn’s thoughts slammed to a stop as Dimitri stepped into the kitchen. Her pulse picked up as her lungs filled with his spicy, rich, masculine scent. No man had the right to smell so good. Or look so good in nothing but loose running shorts and sneakers. Her eyes began at his jaw line, then went down, down, down, then back up to linger on his hard, chiseled abs.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

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Kerstyn answer was a longing moan.

Turning away, he pulled open the refrigerator door. “Would you like some toast?”

No answer.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could not hold back his laughter. She sat on the barstool, her lips slightly parted, her breathing deep and heavy while her eyes were glued to his ass.

“Am I breakfast?” he asked between laughs.

Kerstyn mentally shook herself and forced her eyes to meet his.

“You said something about…”

“Breakfast?”

“Oh, yes. What about it?” Kerstyn asked, her eyes quizzical.

“Should I be wearing a shirt?”

“Only if you want me to pay attention to what you’re saying.” Kerstyn was not surprised when Dimitri suddenly had a black t-shirt on. She had not seen him move, though she had grown used to that. He zipped around the house without a care. What she did find interesting was how the refrigerator door had not even tried to close.

“Can I call you Flash?”

Dimitri chuckled and pulled the butter and orange juice from the fridge before letting the door fall closed.

“I had asked if you would like some toast?”

“Please, it’s about all I have time for this morning. I have to get off to work.”