Crimson Reign (25 page)

“If I had waited just a little while longer instead of following him back, I could have intercepted the Nephilim and tried to raise the alarm. I failed you, both of you and because of me you lost a valued and loyal subject.”

Warmth touched him and Arial raised sorrowful eyes to see Laziel standing at his side with his hand on Arial's head. “None of this is your doing, and couldn't have been helped. The depth of Darklon’s hatred toward Lachi is unmatched. He gains power through his deceitful allegiance with the enemy. He refuses to change, he prefers to live by the old ways and thinks that by bringing in younger vampires who have no experience he will gain the advantage over the next generation.” Laziel moved away again.

“Long term, if Darklon succeeds in his quest to align the next generation to his rules, we will have lost. Every race, whether human or other, is superseded by the young. They are the fresh hope, the ones the new laws are made for and the ones Malachi's regime will endeavor to help.”

“Darklon will not honor his union with the Nephilim. Once he’s wiped out the Nephilim and replaced them with your new army, he will attempt to take on the vampire race and the human race. The darkness that resides inside Darklon is waiting for an outlet. He misses the thrill of taking human blood, and if he ever overthrows the throne, he will enforce the old ways where humans are a food source and kept like cattle. Under Lachi's rule these old ways have been slowly abolished in the hope to co...exist.”

Laziel failed to hide the agitated look that skittered across the planes of his beautiful face. Without warning, wings unfurled from his back and swept out in an arc of shimmering black satin feathers. Arial refused to stifle the gasp of awe that rushed from his lips. But, when the tip of Laziel’s wing reached out to linger over the contours of Malachi’s face, Arial diverted his gaze.

“Laziel, we will never let that motherfucker win. There’s no way we will let him taint the young. He will be stopped, but like you’ve always said, fate has to take its course. Right now, I’d love nothing more than to rip Darklon’s dick off and stick it up his ass for the shit he’s pulled. But, if what I suspect is true, his so called son might not be as easily fooled by Darklon’s charms as the old vamp likes to think he is.” Malachi rose from his seat and offered Arial his hand.

Arial accepted the offer gracefully and rose to his feet. He watched, with a slight trace of longing, as the vampire King held his arms out wide and walked slowly toward Laziel. His hands met the soft expanse of the angel’s wings and brushed up over the ebony feathers. Awed, he watched the vampire relax the celestial with just the simplest of touches. He stroked slowly until the wondrous spread of wings folded away into the smooth breadth of Laziel’s back.

In a very rare show of public affection, Malachi gripped Laziel’s chin and laid claim to his mouth in a heated, rough kiss. Arial thought to make a swift exit before the heavily involved pair thought to take their display a little further, but as soon as it started, they both broke away. There was no sign of embarrassment or excuses for the moment of intimacy so Arial acted the only way he knew how. Casually, he bowed to the King, thinking their meeting was at an end.

“Now, Arial, what about this boy of Darklon’s?” Malachi strode back across the room and retook his seat. With his elbows rested on his knees, the vampire King addressed Arial as though he were a confidant. “Darklon hit the South American enclave and wiped out Mendeeto and his heir, with the sole purpose of installing Roman in the vacant seat. But, from what you’ve told me of their meeting along with a few other facts Laziel has uncovered all is not rosy in the family. Roman knew nothing of Mendeeto’s demise, or that of his young. The news stunned the young male, shook his foundation. Apparently, he was closer to Mendeeto and his family than we thought. This might work in our favor, if, and I do mean if, we play our cards right.”

Arial wondered what plan stirred in Malachi’s mind. On his best days, the vampire was a fearsome force of darkness with power unparalleled by any other within the vampire world. Whatever plan the vampire was hatching, Arial knew he’d do what was needed of him to bring about Darklon’s demise. He listened intently as Malachi laid the foundations of his plan. With grim resolve, Laziel slid into place alongside the King and listened with him.

“Roman is full of enthusiasm for his upcoming Crescente di Ordinare Cerimonia. The ceremony to celebrate his ascension to the Council will be the final step in allocating him a seat within my court. It’s a private affair. Only two witnesses of my choosing are present to swear him in, both of which are in this room. Before it takes place, I have ordered Roman back to the enclave to see to our dead. He will be solely responsible for the multitude of pyres that will light the night sky, including that of Mendeeto and his young.” A shadow, harsh and terrifying crossed the King’s face.

“Carmelishia has specifically asked for her young to be within his father’s arms when their pyre is lit. I know it is shallow of me, but Roman should bear witness to the crimes of his so called father and realize what transpired for him to gain his seat. Arial, Darklon believes you are still acting as an emissary to my court, and for that reason I want you alone to accompany Roman and let him see for himself what Darklon is capable of.”

Silence ensued; its heavy weight bore down on Arial’s broad shoulders. He knew this was the beginning of a new war. One that would eventually change everything Malachi and Laziel had worked for and held sacred. Lose and even the human race would eventually become endangered due to Darklon and his ardent thirst for the warmth of their blood.

“I will take leave of you, my liege. Once Roman’s orders are delivered, I will have little chance to submit another report until I come back. If anything of interest should arise, I will endeavor to get in touch. My liege…Laziel.”

Without waiting for a reply, Arial bowed and strode briskly from the room.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

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Tendrils of relief and fear coiled through Roman Di Sangue as he strode out of the King’s Council chambers. As the massive double doors closed behind him shielding him from the view of the pureblood King and his fierce angelic guard, his shoulders sagged. Chin met chest, and he fought to quell the rush of moisture that filled his eyes. The horrific pictures of a slain Mendeeto scalded his brain. Pain swelled in his chest. The King truly was a bastard. How could he so blithely shove such atrocious pictures under his nose with no warning?

Only a few short weeks ago, the South American enclave had been home. The vampires there counted as his friends and family. A band tightened around his chest. Mother! With trembling fingers, he pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in her number. Blindly, he reached for the wall as the rings sounded in his ear. When the quiet answer came full of the anguish of loss, he slid weakly down the wall.

“Mother. Thank the Creator.” A sob echoed in his ear.

“Roman?”

“It’s me.” He paused, scared to ask. “Were you…are you injured?”

“No, I hid in the alcove under the floor. The one you built for me. Oh Roman, Mendeeto’s gone.” Another heartrending sob throbbed across the line.

“I know, Mother. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“No, my son, stay away. You don’t…”

“I have no choice. The King is sending me back.” He didn’t know how to tell her that he would be replacing Mendeeto. A shrill scream pierced the background.

“I must go, Roman. Carmelishia is awake again.”

Before he could respond, the tormented moan of a lost mate raised the hair on Roman’s arms. The line went dead. She was gone. The phone fell into his lap, and he tunneled his fingers into his hair.

Rough hands grasped his biceps and snatched him up. “This area is off limits. You want to piss about, find somewhere else.” Roman looked up to see two of the King’s guards eyeing him. “Laziel catches you out here lurking around; he’ll tie your intestines around the columns out front.”

Roman shook free of their hold. “I’m going. Just give me a minute.” The guard on the right took an aggressive step toward him.

“Hold, Saul. Lord Di Sangue has been in audience with the King.” Roman’s gaze flicked to the left. Ms. Stroner, the King’s personal secretary, strolled toward them, the same look of disgust on her face she’d worn the last time they’d met. His spine straightened.

As a child, he’d suffered the taunts of the other children when questions of his father were raised. He’d grown a thick skin, determined to never let anyone make him feel inferior again. But, this female. With one look, she found the young eager to please male who couldn’t understand why the other children laughed at him. The remembered hurt and confusion pissed him off. His eyes narrowed and he quirked a brow.

“Seems they would’ve known that if you had been doing your job, female.”

Sparks of outrage flashed in the depths of chocolate eyes. “It’s not my fault they caught you on the floor wallowing in the filth of your ancestry.”

Rage roared through Roman. “How dare you cast aspirations against my character? You don’t know me or my mother.” He took a step in her direction and came up hard against Saul’s chest. Behind the guard, the female’s eyes widened and an angry blush singed her cheeks. The fire in her eyes intensified as she moved forward.

“I don’t need to know either of you. I know the evil that you call father.” With a proud toss of her head, she whirled and strode away. Despite the temper and anguish seething inside, he couldn’t take his eyes off the gentle sway of her hips as she retreated.

“Put your eyes back in ya head, kid. It’s time to see if those balls you're sporting are real or fake.”

Roman growled. He’d had enough degradation for one day. He was a fucking Elder now and some fucking body was going to show him some respect. He spun around and nearly swallowed his tongue. One of the biggest motherfuckers he’d ever seen in his life loomed over him. Menace leeched from the male’s skin, permeating the air. Death and damnation lurked in burnt gold eyes. Ragged wings arched grotesquely at the male's broad back, and a black brow lifted as if the male had read his mind.

“Something on your mind, little boy?”

Roman unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I’m, ah. It’s Roman, not boy. And you are?”

“Arial. Your new leash puller courtesy of Daddy Dearest and the King. We’ve been assigned clean up duty in South America so if ya done sniveling, we need to get our asses moving.”

Recognition dawned in Roman's mind. Arial, Darklon's second in command, spun on a booted heel and strode down the hallway in the direction of the living quarters. When Roman caught up to the male, he cleared his throat. “What happened to your wings?” The piercing dark glare from Arial snapped his mouth shut. “Yeah, so not my biz, forget I asked.”

Back in his quarters, Roman stared at the open bag on his bed unsure of what he needed to take back with him. Across the room, the extra...large former angel swallowed one of the antique Louis XVI chairs. He appeared to be asleep, but Roman wasn’t taking any chances. As he tossed things into the bag, his mind churned. Only a stroke of fate had delivered him from the massacre in his home enclave less than two days ago. Darklon, Elder of the Vatican enclave, had shown up at their door proclaiming himself to be Roman’s long lost father.

His distraught mother denied the allegations, but blood matches proved her wrong. Everything after the introduction transpired so quickly the details eluded him. A haze seemed to have settled over his memories; however, he vividly recalled being pried from the arms of his overprotective mother to travel across the world.

His first introduction to the King’s court had overwhelmed him. Vampires and humans alike paraded around the Vatican, priceless jewels flashing at throats, ears and wrists. On the surface, a veneer of civility hid the pretentious snobbery, conspiracies, innuendo, and treachery hiding only millimeters beneath the surface. Everything in Italy differed from home. Having traversed the ballroom with none knowing his identity, he could understand the hard edge maintained by their King. Where Mendeeto enjoyed camaraderie and fellowship from his enclave, the King slogged through a mire of chaos unable to trust any save the male constantly at his side.

“He is the leader of the controversy. He refuses to submit to his duty, refuses to mate and produce an heir.” Darklon’s voice sounded in his head. “He has most of the Council fooled, but not me. He may be pureblood, but he is tainted. His heart is as black as night. He’ll trample our race into the ground unless someone takes him firmly in hand. I intend to be the vampire that does it, and now with you at my side, my goal is closer than ever.”

Roman hadn’t understood the last part until the announcement of his ascension to an Elder’s seat. It had astounded and elated him, until, he stood in the King’s office and saw his slain foster father, and realized his seat came due to the spilled blood of one he loved. The war with the Nephilim had always seemed a distant thing, but the indelible pictures now ingrained in his mind brought the war to his doorstep.

“Enough wool...gathering. Time to head out.” Roman jumped at the words. Arial stood directly behind him, yet, he’d never heard the male move.

“Yes, I suppose I’m ready.”

Arial pawed through the bag and shrugged. “The ceremonial robes will be in Mendeeto’s quarters. You’ll need those for attending the funeral pyres.”

“No!” Horrified, Roman spun to face the other male. “Those were his robes, sewn by his mate for his ascension. I’ll not wear them and dishonor his memory.”

Arial bent at the waist and shoved his face directly into Roman’s personal space. He growled. “Oh, yes, you will wear them, even if I have to shove you into them like a newborn. There is no time to have new ones prepared. The living need closure.”

“Carmelishia….”

“Will not notice. She has lost her mate and her young. Her reason to rise and face each day has been lost. You’ve no idea of such loss.”