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“There is only one way to defeat Luka in his plan of world domination.

Valya
must
complete the bonding ritual with Richelle. And then couple with her.”

“I have every intention of completing the bonding ritual. She is my life mate, the soul that will fill my heart. But it is Richelle who must accept me.”

Selene cupped his cheek in her palm as she gave him a heartwarming smile. Her eyes brimmed with a sad kind of loneliness reserved for the brokenhearted with the bittersweet memories of lost love.

“She has accepted you.”

Valya closed his eyes and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but Selene placed her fingertips over his lips.

“She has accepted you.”

He opened his eyes to see her smiling at him, shining tears brightening her glittering sapphire eyes as she nodded.

“She has accepted you, both man and beast, and loves the best and worst of both. It is you who must accept her acceptance and her love as she freely offers it.”

“She may forgive but she could not accept.” “She could. And she has,”

Selene affirmed softly. “She has accepted you in all the ways a woman can accept a man, physically, mentally, and spiritually. And in accepting the best and worst in you, she has set you free to be the man you were meant to be.

And now, it is you who must accept and be
that
man. Be her love, for eternity.”

Like a bolt of lightning from a blue, clear sky, it hit Valya.
Selene was
right.
In his desire and driving need to show his complete mastery over Richelle, it was she who had mastered him. Before Richelle, he would do what was necessary, what his training dictated he do, because as an Immortal, he could do no less. He was a Guardian. There was no quarter for

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those who chose a path of destruction. There was no question or debate with his decision. As a Guardian, his judgment was final.

But it was different now. Now…everything he did, every decision he made was for her.

She is mine.

The awakening of his emotions, of his passions, had done more than release the inner beast bent on controlling and dominating his mate. She had also released him to love as she did, with her whole heart, and with that came empathy and compassion dueling with the conflicting desires of devotion and obsession.

She is mine!

Yet she opened her arms and let him in. Despite his body responding to the call of bloodlust as he fucked her hard, driving her higher and higher in his need to dominate, his heart would have responded had she asked him to stop, if she had succumbed to his command to obey. But she did neither. She had accepted him, taking the beast’s unquenchable raw lust and the man’s unassailable adoration into her body, into her heart, and into her soul.

“She is mine!” he shouted, gripping Selene’s shoulders tightly as if he had to prove it to her. But her knowledgeable smile reflected what he should have known all along. Richelle was his life mate by prophecy, his love by destiny. “She is mine!” he yelled again as he released Selene.

She stepped back and watched Valya with approving eyes. Palpable waves of energy rolled off him, and his body vibrated from the intensity of his emotions, his need to reclaim his bride. His dark eyes flickered with a flame brighter than the sun, so intense that his glance burned her skin.

“So, Valya finishes the bonding ritual and has sex with Richelle,” Ivan growled. “Tell us something we didn’t know.”

Nicolae’s admonishing hiss had Ivan taking a step back, bowing in contrition, appropriately chastised for his out-of-line remark as well as reminding him who was the dominant male.

Nicolae came to stand beside Selene, placing his arm about her shoulder. Selene turned her face toward him. She had forgotten how gallant he was and how quivery it made her feel. And in the midst of strangers who didn’t trust her, she was grateful for her momentary hero as she lay her head upon his broad shoulders.

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291

Valya took a step forward to stand before Selene. His mind,

undisciplined, circled around a single thought, projecting it to everyone in the room—
Richelle.
I will do anything to save you, even if I need to
sacrifice my own life.
She had accepted him. She loved him. And he loved her, with a passion that surpassed his deep-rooted duty as a Guardian.

Richelle was all that mattered, and he would do anything to save her.

Anything. He fell to his knees before a stunned Selene as he lay his head against her abdomen. She wasn’t quite sure how to react. He wrapped his arms around her legs submissively embracing her. His large body shuddering, he looked up at her. The pain in his beseeching gaze touched her. He could not keep his voice from quavering when he finally spoke.

“Help me. Please. I…I don’t know what to do. I…don’t know how

to…save her.”

Selene stroked his hair as a mother would to soothe a frightened child. It was something she had never done with her known son, and only now was she feeling the depth of her regret at the neglect she had visited upon Luka and the mothering bond she had denied herself. After all the damage she had created, the mistakes she had made in raising Luka to hate Nicolae and the Immortals, this was her opportunity to set things right.

“Listen to me. Richelle is stronger than you know, stronger than
she
realizes. Her powers grow stronger by the minute.”

Valya looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. She felt his need to believe her, to believe his beloved was not completely at Luka’s mercy. She placed her hand upon his cheek, leaned down, and kissed his forehead.

“Believe me, Valya. Believe in Richelle. Believe in your love. Luka does not understand the concept of love, and
that
is how he will be defeated.”

Valya clasped Selene’s hand as he stood. Holding Selene’s gaze, he raised her arm and kissed her hand in a chivalrous gesture.

“I know how we can enter Tower of the Red Dragon and finally defeat Luka,” Selene stated. “I have a plan.”

The Immortals gathered into a makeshift football huddle around her.

They would only have one chance to save the Immortal race and all mankind. Unaccustomed to praying, she beseeched the Gods they would be successful.

For the sake of the entire world.

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Music filled the grand hall, and Vampyres and Vampyresses moved and swayed to the hauntingly rhythmical tunes filling the air. All dressed regally in black under Luka’s command that they celebrate his impending nuptials.

Each dancing couple exhibited their power and sexual prowess as they moved about the dance floor, impressing the mortals watching from the sidelines.

Luka sat at the head of the table in an ornately carved throne, smug with arrogant self-satisfaction in his victory. Several Vampyresses fawned over him as he watched, his passion mounting with each passing moment.

Licking his lips, he eagerly anticipated Richelle’s arrival. The thought of touching her innocent flesh, taking her blood as he completed the bonding ritual, had his body growing hard. His cock pulsed, aching to find release.

For a moment, he entertained the thought of taking one of the Vampyresses who were flaunting themselves before him, but he withheld.

He would find his release with Richelle tonight and every night. He licked his lips again, relishing, savoring the anticipation of living out his debauched and vile fantasies with her fresh and delectable body for the rest of eternity.

He continued watching the lewd displays of sexual exhibition on the dance floor, his desire being driven higher as in his mind’s eye he imagined Richelle enticing him, flaunting her body before him. He could see her cupping her breasts, offering them up to him as she held his gaze, her tongue running over her lush lips.

Raising his brow, his mouth quirked at the thought of using Richelle to appease his sexual fantasies and desires. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak—revenge against Nicolae and retribution against all Immortals who had defied him. His body grew harder, the pain striking him as he adjusted himself, waiting for Richelle’s appearance.

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293

He stole a glance to the head of the stairs when a figure caught his eye.

He was disappointed when he realized it was Preacher coming from his chambers. He expected Richelle to be with him. Midnight was approaching, and he wanted to complete the ritual, fulfilling the prophecy and taking his rightful place as Supreme Ruler.

Preacher was silent as he approached Luka’s throne. Luka’s visage was one of impatience and vindictive hatred, his maliciousness evident in his contemptible sneer. He bowed his head before Luka, trying to choke back the bile he could taste in the back of his throat. He had never before questioned his servitude to Luka and his Vampyres in his many years. Too many years.

But being in Richelle’s presence had brought about a change. He remembered past family and friends. Emotions that he had long buried or had forgotten began to resurface. But more importantly, he experienced moments of self-examination, which had rekindled some sort of spark in his otherwise dark and dismal existence.

If he had to put a name to it, it was akin to the flame of faith that had at one time burned brightly in his soul. It had been snuffed out by the fall of men into a pit of self-importance, greed, and lust for power.

With the rebirth of his emotions, he also experienced regret…and shame.

He’d felt the first pangs in Luka’s chambers as he prepared Richelle for the Beltane Feast, and now it felt as though he were carrying the world upon his shoulders as it pressed down, threatening to crush him beneath its weight. The only alleviation was when he heard Richelle’s voice. It was so pure and angelic, almost divine.

He had turned away from his faith and God because of the evil of men.

He placed his trust in something he could see and touch, believing Luka’s lies and deceptions. With eyes wide open, he followed, believing the ends justified the means, and he became what he had despised most. When he realized his mistake, he hoped to find something good and pure to restore his faith in God, and when he did, what did he do? He aided in its destruction.

I can’t. I can’t go through with it.

“You can and you will, Preacher.”

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Preacher met Luka’s mocking stare. Preacher felt the icy grip of death clutching at his throat as Luka glared over the rim of his wineglass. Preacher waited for the gnawing sensation of imminent death that always accompanied Luka’s foul mood to clutch at his throat, yet to his amazement, it did not come. He felt no fear. He didn’t…feel anything. He was like an empty vessel waiting to be filled, but filled with what he wasn’t sure.

He stood straight-backed, staring at Luka. Before he would have seen Luka as an imposing figure, sitting upon his ornately carved ebony throne, ruling the world with his right hand while wielding death with his left. But now he was nothing more than a pathetic picture of a petty pubescent playing with power.

Luka stood, draining the last bit of the amber liquid from his glass before tossing it aside, his murderous glare bearing down on Preacher, who refused to back down, standing his ground as Luka started toward him.

“Do you think you can hide your thoughts from me, Preacher? Like an open book, I have read you. Do not delude yourself. You will go through with the ceremony, Preacher.” He waved his hand, causing Preacher to double over in unbearable agony. Falling to his knees as unseen acid ate at his flesh, writhing in a pit of Luka’s creation, his tortured screams drew the attention of the Vampyres, who crowded around eager to see his excruciating death.

Then as suddenly as it began, it was over.

Preacher got to his feet, heaving in great gulps of air. Surrounded by Vampyres drawing closer—some wearing expressions of disappointment and some baring their fangs in preparation to complete what Luka had started—Preacher stood waiting for the inevitable, grateful he would be delivered from his miserable existence.

“Enough!”

The Vampyres retreated slowly, hissing and slithering away like snakes as Luka came forward and began circling like a vulture over carrion.

Preacher held himself absolutely still, trying desperately to maintain what little composure and strength he had under Luka’s stark scrutiny.

“You
will
go through with
this
ceremony, Preacher. Do not forget it was
you
who first led me to Adelaide as a child, and then as an adult with a child of her own. It was
you
who found the mountain where they had hidden Richelle and finally found her at the carnival.”

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Preacher closed his eyes in remorseful guilt while Luka listed each of his sins. Luka stopped circling to stand nose to nose with him, his foul breath curdling the hairs of Preacher’s nose. Preacher couldn’t help himself.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into blood red eyes rimmed with black. He recognized the signs of bloodlust and groaned inwardly.

Many would die this night, and for once, he hoped he would be one of the many.

“You surrendered your soul years ago, Preacher. You’re pissing and moaning about the sins of man, about man’s fall from grace in the eyes of
God
. And yet you buried yourself in your pious vision of a better humanity and sold your soul for golden dreams and thirty pieces of silver. You are as contemptible as the mankind you declare to despise, and yet, you are as beyond redemption as they.”

Luka turned abruptly, striding triumphantly to his throne while Preacher stood dejected, wallowing in an abyss of self-pity. He wanted to help desperately, and that, too, was a new sensation. Wanting to do for someone else and not because he was told to. He just didn’t know how he could help.

“Then wait until you receive word from me.”