Shadow of the Vampire (11 page)

         
Play this when you feel lost or alone and know I will always be with you.

         
A wet tear slipped over her cheekbone and down her face. She hated how bone-weary and drained she'd become. Hated how she had no idea if Yuri actually visited her when she played his disc, or if she had gone mad and her addled brain fabricated their meetings. But most of all, she hated herself. Hated how the sins of her past came back to haunt her and, worse, affected those she most cherished and loved.

         
"Don't worry, brother," she said, wiping away the tear with the back of her hand. "I, too, shall keep my promise."

         
HE KNEW.

         
Those two words repeated in a disturbing cadence with each breath Alexia drew since she had left Lothar us's chamber. That dragon knew what Lotharus did to her. She'd seen it in those sapphire eyes of his, heard it in the veiled threat that fell from his mouth.

         
But how?

         
The answer to that question kept her up well past dawn. Had her changing into her combat gear when she should have been slipping into her nightclothes. Now it had her sneaking below to the dungeons long after everyone else in her compound had gone to bed for the day.

         
Although some part of her recognized it was illogical and absurd to head below at this hour, she didn't really have a choice. She couldn't sleep, couldn't think, at least not of anything other than the fact that the dragon knew something that she'd never told anyone. Not even her mother.

         
As she rounded the corner and began her descent into the bowels of the horde, her heart sped up. Ignoring it, she reached around to the small of her back, unsheathing her silver dagger. Although she hoped he'd tell her of his own volition, Alexia was prepared to do anything necessary to get an answer.

         
At least, that was what she told herself.

         
Sucking in a breath, she stepped through the threshold of the dungeon and glanced around. The chamber was quiet and pitch-black. Iron shutters blocked the windows and every torch and fire pit had been extinguished, leaving no spot of warmth, no flicker of light. Only the pungent odor of decaying flesh confirmed her location.

         
"Isn't it early for you to be awake, little vampire?"

         
She gasped at his voice, low and deep. In the quiet room, it vibrated through her, nearly knocking her off balance. By the sound of it, he sat in the far corner by the wall and not locked in a cell, where she'd assumed he'd be. Lotharus must have had confidence he'd wounded him badly enough to keep him from escaping. Alexia recalled the pure strength in him, the resolve in his eyes, and suddenly wasn't so certain.

         
She stepped forward. The loud sound of her boots on the stone reverberated through the empty room. Her pulse thumped with each step.

         
Finally, her vision began to discern shapes in the darkness, aided by the tiniest shaft of sunlight seeping in from a timeworn crack in a side wall. First his outline, then his broad shoulders, his hair and his eyes slowly sharpened into focus. He sat on the ground, his shackled arm resting on his bent knees. Alexia folded her arms across her chest, keeping the dagger in front of her forearm where he could see it. The moment she knew he had, she notched up her chin and summoned the courage to ask what she'd came down here to find out.

         
"You know what he's done to me." It came out more as a statement than a question. She noticed his eyes widen before they narrowed. "How?" she asked.

         
"Why should I tell you?"

         
"Because I want to know."

         
"Then set me free."

         
The question took her aback, as she'd fought for his freedom only hours ago. "No," she managed to answer, amazed at the icy composure in her voice.

         
"But that's what I want."

         
Alexia felt a smile tug her lips, but she contained it. Her fingertips tapped on the weapon's handle. As she'd hoped, the movement drew his gaze and he nodded to the blade.

         
"Are you going to use that?"

         
She took a deep breath and tried to remain convincingly hostile. "Only if you don't tell me what I came down here to hear."

         
At her words, he tipped his chin back, resting his head on the wall behind him. "I can tell you, but you won't believe me."

         
"Try me."

         
He set his gaze on hers, his blue eyes piercing the darkness like a beacon. "I saw it."

CHAPTER SEVEN

         
"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE," Alexia said with an exhale.

         
What he'd said could not be true. She didn't believe it for a moment. But when his gaze leveled on hers again, what she thought didn't matter. He believed it. There was no doubt in his cerulean eyes.

         
"I told you that you wouldn't believe me," he replied, again resting his head back against the wall.

         
Alexia took in the masculine outline of his face, his jaw, the Adam's apple protruding from his bowed neck. She licked her lips. Her gaze slid lower, to the wounds on his bare torso. The injuries appeared raw and aching and she had to look away. Not for the first time, the idea of torture seemed to leave a bad taste in the back of her throat.

         
Alexia turned, bracing her back on the wall beside him. The cool stones bit the flesh of her back and shoulders. Slumping down, she came to a squat and leaned her head on the dungeon wall, fingering the dagger in her hands.

         
Use it. Lotharus's voice whispered the order in her mind. She slammed the weapon on the ground beside her, holding it beneath her palm. Lotharus was not here calling the shots. Not today, not right now. This was her chance to do things her way. After all, the dragon didn't have to know she had no intention of using the blade on him. That in reality, she feared that returning him to his kin was her only hope of bringing peace to their clans. That she wanted to keep him alive for the next two days so she could set him free.

         
Two days.

         
"So, do you like torture? Is that why you won't answer me?" she asked in the firmest voice she could muster.

         
"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

         
His voice rolled through her in a velvety wave and she fought the urge to sigh. "Does it seem that way?"

         
He turned to face her, a dark brow arched like a bird's wing over his amazing eyes. "You did seem quite comfortable with a flogger, Alexia."

         
Heat fired inside her at the sound of that rich, deep voice saying her name. "Well," she managed to say, "you dragons seem comfortable with your talons tearing through my kin's flesh."

         
"Touche," he said with a laugh. She almost mimicked him. But then her mind finally caught up with her body and registered that he had used her name. He knew her name. Yet she did not know his.

         
"Tell me, dragon. What do they call you?"

         
At her question, he tossed strands of midnight-black hair from his face, revealing a lopsided smile that looked completely out of place in the dismal surroundings.

         
"Declan." He lifted his chin an inch, his face sobering. "Declan Black."

         
Black.

         
Her eyes widened. Lotharus was right. "That means you are..."

         
"The new King, yes."

         
Goddess. Why would he risk telling her? His parents were not just murdered. They had been brutally beaten and tortured for days until they had both died from it.

         
"I won't tell anyone," she said with a whisper, wishing there was some way she could take away the knowledge from Lotharus and her mother.

         
When he didn't answer, she looked over at him. Although it was hard to make out every nuance of Declan's facial expression in the dark, if she read him right, he seemed as astonished by her words as she was to have said them. His brow tightened, then relaxed ever so slightly and his face softened. "Thank you."

         
He said the words as if he'd take any compassion she would bestow on him. This made her wonder. Was he lonely, like her? Did he have friends, family, a wife or a child back home, waiting for him, missing him? She remembered that female he'd been with last night before they caged him. Was she longing for him and he for her?

         
For the first time Alexia felt wave after wave of remorse, guilt, sadness. Each one lapped as the other ebbed so she never had a moment's peace. It smothered her. Goddess, what was she doing down here?

         
"I have to go," she said, shifting her feet beneath her to stand.

         
"Alexia, wait." His hand covered hers. Fingers, long and smooth, slid up her arm before closing around it. She closed her eyes, savoring the tenderness for a split second before she swiveled back around to face him. "What?"

         
"I know you think me crazy, and I know you have no reason to believe anything I say. But I swear to you, I saw what he did to you."

         
Alexia's breath hitched to think what he said was true. She tried to pull away, to get away. But his grip on her hand didn't budge. If anything, it tightened.

         
"I can't explain it," he continued. "But I saw what he did to you with my own eyes."

         
"Stop," she asked before her throat constricted. She swallowed hard. The knot of embarrassment, guilt and shame was so thick in her throat she nearly choked on it.

         
Somewhere in her mind, it registered he was rubbing his thumb atop her hand in small, tight circles. She didn't remember when he'd started caressing her, and although she didn't want to admit it, the small gesture soothed her.

         
Releasing a groan, she slumped back down on the floor beside him, cradling her head in her hands. He didn't move, or speak. If not for the sound of his deep, even breaths she wouldn't have known he sat directly beside her.

         
"He should be dead for what he did to me," she finally said. "Would be if anyone knew about it."

         
Again, the silence stretched on between them.

         
"I won't tell anyone."

         
Alexia couldn't help but smile as he mimicked her promise to him. With a resigning sigh, she laid her head on her crossed arms and looked over at him. "So, why do they call you Declan?"

         
He glanced over at her, surprise evident in his eyes. Then they softened slightly, the blue of them becoming sharper with his small grin. "You mean instead of the traditional dragon lord names?"

         
She nodded.

         
"My father was named after one of our human ancestors from the fourth century and my mother insisted they keep the tradition." He shrugged, his lower lip bowing down. Her eyes lingered on its smooth, full outline, her body tingled remembering how delicious it had felt pressed against hers. "Since I was not dragon born, they did not have a hard time passing it through council. My sister, however, was not so lucky to escape the dragon custom."

         
Alexia heard everything, but her mind snatched on one fact and held. "So, you are not dragon born, yet you are a dragon lord?"

         
"Aye."

         
"Even though you're only a half-breed?"

         
Anger flickered behind his eyes and she instantly regretted her choice of words. "I'm sorry... I didn't--" she said before taking a deep breath and releasing it. "It's just that you're so strong."

         
The corner of his lips curved. "The Black line is like that. If you think I'm strong, you should have met my father."

         
A sad laugh forced out of him before his face visibly hardened, pain and loss etching his handsome features.

         
"I never did, you know. Meet your parents," she heard herself saying. "Lotharus and my mother kept them a secret from me. They were gone before I even knew they were here."

         
Declan's nostrils flared. Even with the collar ebbing his strength, a surge of heat rippled off him. The air between them warmed and for a moment she feared his fire would lash out with dragonfire, charring her to a crisp.