Crimson Ties

by V L Moon

  Looking into Clariel’s eyes, Arial saw nothing but sorrow. His voice cracked as he asked, but his senses had already given him the answer he sought. “Where is Amitiel now, Clariel? How was it that you fell into the hands of the Nephilim queen?”

  When Clariel spoke, his words were whisper soft. Arial felt the weight of his grief as the dreaded word slipped from his lips. “Dead.” He sucked back a sob. “Both my mother and father are gone. I was very young, but I remember that night like it was yesterday. The Nephilim queen had apparently heard of my mother’s downfall and wanted her to mate with her son. That union was to breed an army of pure blooded Fallen to replace her weaker Nephilim army.” Clariel shifted burrowing closer as the memories assaulted him.

  “My mother refused, and when the Nephilim surrounded us…well let’s just say, by the time they were finished, there wasn’t enough left to say what part belonged to what body. And the blood, oh God there was so much blood.” Another tremor shook the male. “After that night I was held prisoner for years. I never saw their queen again, but another Nephilim called Celix took care of me. He hid me from the queen’s brutality and often brought me food and news.”

  Clariel curled into himself and Arial feared the next part of the story. “She ignored me until recently. When she remembered my age and came to seek me out.” Clariel swallowed compulsively almost as if fighting nausea. “She was impressed with my—maleness. When I refused to service her, it got ugly fast. If not for Celix,” Clariel paused and shook his head. Fresh tears washed Arial’s chest. “He took my place that night and every night afterward. My punishment was to be thrown into the battle ranks. There was no more hiding.”

  Arial stroked his back as the story spilled. A fierce hatred for the unknown queen ignited in his gut. Clariel was no fighter. She’d deliberately sent him to his death because he refused to fuck her. He barely suppressed his growl. “And that’s how you ended up at the wrong end of Malachi’s temper?”

  Clariel nodded. “Apparently the queen’s pissed because her son refuses to fall into her best laid plans. She is evil; I don’t know what will happen to Celix if she finds out he helped me all of those years.”

  Arial suspected the bitch already knew, and as much as he liked Clariel, Arial needed to move. There was something unique and so innocent about the young Nephilim it made Arial uneasy. Maybe it was his purity, or the burden of his grief, or the fact Arial had borne witness to far too much shit over the centuries and shouldn’t care. But, care he did…too much, in fact.

  Between Clariel being there and knowing Rhys had not long been through the enclave, Arial felt the weight of the world on his back. And, he had Celix to worry about as well. Celix. Yet another Nephilim, like Clariel, who hid his unique qualities for fear of reprisal from the Nephilim queen. The bitch had to die, and Arial would be more than happy to take the bitch down when the time was right. But first, he needed to speak to the vampire king and make sure Clariel would be taken care of and kept safe.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed; you need to rest. I will come back when I have more news, but rest assured, Clariel, you will be safe here.” Lance entered as if he knew Arial was taking his leave. Once the Nephilim was safely tucked in bed, Arial looked up at Lance.

  “Make sure he gets fed regularly. He’s wasting away.” They walked to the door, and Arial turned to face the vampire guard. “Tell me; the doctor that saw to the Nephilim, do you know if he is still here or where he went?” Arial searched Lance’s features for any hint of deception. The guard only smirked.

  “He left not five minutes before you arrived. Bloody ironic if you ask me. Demons being called to save an angel. If Laziel was here, he’d have Clariel’s head on a stick by now.”

  Arial growled at the vehemence of Lance’s words. “No, Laziel wouldn’t. He’d have seen what you cannot. Clariel was born of a female Fallen and carries the qualities of her light in his soul. An angel he isn’t, but he doesn’t deserve to die. Guard him well or mark my words, you will pay for any harm that befalls him while in your care.” With his threat delivered, Arial closed the door behind him to seek out the King. It was with a dark heart that he ventured through to Malachi’s chambers and took the turn leading into the chapel built for Laziel. Arial knew the angel hadn’t surfaced, and his absence brought an ache to Arial’s chest.

  “Where are you, Tinkerbelle? Can I get one word, or a sign to let me know you’re fucking okay?” Arial waited in silence; his shoulders slumping as he took the first pew. Nothing.

  “What were you expecting…a burning fucking bush? Stop moping about and tell me what you know.” Malachi’s voice cracked through the darkness, the sting sharper than the cat ‘o nine he was rumored to use. The roiling tide of Malachi’s fury washed over him. Arial tried to mask his own anger and his empathy. The first would get him maimed, the second likely killed outright. It was evident the King was seriously hurting, and that gave Arial cause to re-think his anger.

  Malachi needed Laziel in every way. The angel was his life’s blood, his soul mate, his friend and his lover. Arial knew Malachi only fed from the celestial. Would Laziel return in time to provide sustenance? And, without Laziel’s angelic offering, the King’s immunity to dawn’s deadly call would evaporate. He would be vulnerable. What a fucking shit storm.

  “Gabriel is responsible for Loz’s abduction.” Every muscle in his body tightened when Malachi hissed. He glanced over and swallowed hard. Eyes redder than the flames of Hell and twice as deadly locked onto him. Fangs longer than his forefinger glistened in the dim candlelight. The barely contained savagery of a true vampire vibrated with lethal intent on the opposite side of the room.

  “Darklon has no idea Laz is gone, but he confirmed what I saw on the security tapes. Gabriel abducted Loz. He came in through the passageway connected to the Vatican. When I confirmed your Guard knew of Gabriel’s involvement, Darklon ported out. He’s gone after Gabriel. He knows that if you find the human first, he runs the risk of you bringing him before the Elder’s council.” Arial rushed on as the oppressive silence of the vampire King raised chill bumps on his flesh.

  “Darklon won’t risk them looking into Gabriel’s mind. He’ll kill him where he finds him, unless of course, you find him first. This is your chance to prove to them that Darklon’s a traitor. Don’t let your anger or misgivings over Loz and Laziel get in the way. Once Darklon is safely locked away, we can force him to tell us where she is. Hopefully, Laziel will be back to help us.”

  Arial sucked in air knowing the next tidbit would garner a whole lot of pissed off. “Not to mention, we need to find a place for Clariel before the enclave awakens and takes up arms against him. Creator’s beard, Malachi, what possessed you to bring him back here?” Arial knew he’d overstepped when Malachi’s fist slammed into his face and a whole new solar system swam before his eyes.

  ~*~*~*~

  Malachi struck, swiftly and efficiently, sending Arial crashing through the pews to slam into the stone wall. Picking his way through the wreckage, he sank into a crouch before the Fallen. “I’ve had just about enough of every damn body and his nephew questioning me today,” he growled. “Clariel is here under my protection. Any that dare lay a hand on him will answer to me.”

  He leaned forward, the shattered wood grinding under his boots. A hand snaked out and grasped Arial’s chin forcing the male to meet his eyes. “Are we clear?”

  Arial snatched his face away and nodded, “It is not me, you need threaten, vampire. I’m merely pointing out a fact you should have thought of yourself.” Challenge danced in his eyes. One that Malachi seriously wanted to accept. The workout in the gym had done little to alleviate the turmoil within.

  He surged to his feet and whirled away, stopping when he reached the altar. As if it were Laziel’s skin, he trailed his fingers over the smooth stone. In the angel’s private sanctuary, the male’s scent teased Malachi’s senses. His fangs throbbed, demanding nourishment; his cock twitched needing something far more carna
l. The lust and demand for pain rose to tamp down the anger, but did little to calm the chaos in his mind. He turned, tilted his head and studied the silent angel.

  “Pray tell me, Fallen. Why would you give my enemy a head start in locating the human?” He leaned back and rested his ass against the altar, twisting his coat around him to hide the bugle in his leathers. Laziel was definitely earning himself a long session in the bordello. Malachi shook his head to rid himself of the images. “I know you well, Arial. There is a method to your madness. Spill it.” There was no mistaking the command in his voice.

  “Why don’t you kiss my ass,” Arial snapped.

  “Because you don’t have a neon pink thong running down the crack of it,” Malachi deadpanned and smirked at the play of emotions across Arial’s face. The moment of levity passed quickly. “Now see, I have a sense of humor. But you need to tell me your motivation before I seriously lose my shit and remove what’s left of your wings.”

  “To establish trust. By giving him the heads up you were on the trail, he leans a little more toward accepting me into his confidences.” Arial’s large shoulders rolled, and the disgust on his face mirrored Malachi’s own opinion of the crazed Elder. “He orchestrated the kidnapping; was in the car when Gabriel shoved Loz inside. He bragged about what he’d done. He means to bring you down.”

  “Not. Fucking. Happening.” Malachi spat and shoved away from the stone. “No mention of where he’s holding her?”

  “No, and I didn’t want to push. When I leave here, I’ll go back to his quarters and ingratiate myself,” Arial said and reached down to straighten part of a pew. “You better clean this up before Laziel gets back. He loves this chapel.”

  Malachi glanced around the small room he’d had built for his male. The pews, the Jeremejevite crucifix bearing the Creator’s likeness and the Serendibite altar. He rarely visited though the angel came almost every day. Arial grabbed another splintered pew and tried to right it. “Leave it,” Malachi snapped. “I will take care of the damage. What was Gabriel’s last known location?”

  “His rooms in the Vatican,” Arial answered. “Gregori spoke to him shortly after your mel…explosion. He excused himself to change robes or clothes or something and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “I’ll start there. When you get back to Darklon’s side, I want to know what he’s doing and when.” Malachi watched the Fallen cross to the secret entrance. When he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, Malachi tensed.

  “Have you heard from Laziel?” The Fallen asked.

  “That’s none of your business.” Malachi skirted the damaged seats and headed for the door leading back into the enclave. Pain, and not the good kind, twisted in his chest. Every attempt he’d made to contact his male met with a solid block of ‘Back the Fuck Off’. The female form maintained control and refused to respond to his mental prods.

  “He is the last of his kind. He is every angel’s business.” Something sinister and accusatory rang in the Fallen’s words. Malachi’s savage nature roared.

  “If you want to keep your head attached to your body, Fallen, I suggest you get your ass through that door before your mouth writes a check your ass can’t cover. Laziel is my angel; I’ll take care of him. The rest of you can fuck off.”

  With his vampiric nature barely leashed, Malachi slammed the door open and strode down the hall leaving Arial in the chapel. Had the angel in question been present, Malachi would have found himself slammed against the wall and pinned while Laziel’s mouth and body soothed the savage beast. Alone, frustrated and teetering on the edge of unleashing his fury, he veered away from the enclave and ran through the lower tunnels and up the stairway leading to the Vatican.

  Swiftly and silently, he navigated the majestic public halls of the Vatican. The sweeping corridors topped by curved ceilings and sporting ornamental trim and fantastic depictions of history went unnoticed. But, all was not as serene as it appeared. Evidence of his earlier rage spider-webbed along the walls, and in places, the polished tile buckled.

  Whispers of earthquakes floated on the air. If the humans saw him, it was only as a blur in their peripheral vision. But, they felt him and shied away without knowing why. The rage inside flared higher and hotter with every minute the angel was not at his side. It radiated from his very pores, a vibrant warning to anyone close. With single minded concentration, Malachi ignored the humans and the surroundings until one nondescript door came into view.

  As he ducked through the opening, the elaborate décor immediately vanished. Plain white walls, low ceilings and still more evidence of the destructive power of his rage. Cracks snaked along the walls providing the only relief. The working side of the papal seat was as utilitarian as the public side was ornate. There was also far less humanity to circumvent.

  The meeting with Arial had done little to alleviate the chaos running riot in his mind and body. Quite the opposite. The Fallen’s report triggered the most savage recesses of his soul. A mere human dared to touch what belonged to him. The man had signed his own death warrant, and no remorse clouded Malachi’s determination to hold the male’s still warm heart in his fist as the light died from his eyes.

  Briefly, Gregori flitted across rampant thoughts. Gabriel served, or had served, the Pope, the most vaunted religious leader for the humans. The Pope was one of the few humans Malachi counted as friend. If Gregori did not understand Malachi’s vengeance, a prized friendship and alliance could be lost.

  He pulled the assistant’s face from his memory, a sniveling excuse of a man, even for a human. What really twisted his balls the most, they’d failed to heed their own warnings to Gregori. As soon as Laziel knew Gabriel was compromised, they should’ve eliminated him immediately.

  Two more turns and he paused at the door he sought. Gabriel’s rooms. Nothing living stirred on the other side; no warm scent of blood or the slow thud of a heartbeat. He listened closer and expanded his other senses, and no trace of vampire.

  The knob twisted easily, and the door swung wide. Carefully, he scanned the shadows before stepping over the threshold. A quick and thorough search turned up nothing tangible. His head jerked to the open doorway when a throat cleared.

  “Malachi, is there something I can help you with?” Pope Gregori stood in his Papal whites; his hands folded in front of him.

  Malachi straightened from the computer. “Gregori. You’re out and about rather late or early if you are just rising.”

  “I had a visit with Arial earlier. He tells me that Gabriel has deceived you; kidnapped your fiancé,” he said. Malachi growled.

  “It seems the Fallen spoke to everyone before informing me of his findings,” he ground out. The Pope smiled and crossed to an armchair.

  “I would imagine the earthquakes,” the man paused and pinned Malachi with a stare, “gave him reason to delay until all of the information was gathered.”

  “That male has battled the fiercest demons in Hell and prevailed. He was not swayed by my temper.” Malachi crossed the room to stand before the Pontiff. “You know that Gabriel is going to die by my hand, painfully and slowly. I just want us to be clear.”

  “I expected no less when Arial gave me the facts,” Gregori said. “Still, I must point out, he desperately wanted to be one of your subjects, Malachi. If you turn him, you could make use of him.”

  Malachi snarled at the suggestion. “Darklon was not his only option for being turned. He chose the association with my enemy, and he dared to take what belongs to me. He will suffer the consequences of his actions.”

  Expression grave, the Pope nodded. “I will say a mass for his soul. Go with God, Malachi.”

  “Your God turned his back on me a long time ago, Gregori,” Malachi muttered as he passed the smaller male.

  “Says the vampire who lives with angels,” Gregori stated softly, offered Malachi a smile and disappeared down the hall headed for his own quarters.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~*~*~*~
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  Appalachians, Virginia

  Alone in the main cabin, Roman tried to concentrate on the information on the computer screen. The hierarchy for Tobias’s pack was open in one window, and his email and messages regarding the South American enclave occupied a second window. Restlessly, he clicked back and forth not really absorbing any of it. His thoughts kept returning to the male sprawled out naked and asleep in the bedroom. The same male, who in the course of a night, changed everything Roman thought he knew about himself and his desires.

  Although most vampires scoffed at the varied and numerous myths perpetuated about them by the humans, the tales of their sexual exploits and prowess were not altogether fiction. While some vampires mated and bonded with one partner, there were far more that enjoyed the sexual high of multiple partners and the bounty of both sexes. Alone, in groups, while feeding or not, it didn’t matter to them.

  For himself, he’d always expected to mate a female, similar to Ms. Stroner, and settle down. They’d have a family and a home like Mendeeto and Carmelishia with young running around their feet. But, the wolf lying exhausted in his bed tossed all of his ideals out of the window.

  Tobias demanded attention, and he’d drawn Roman to him despite his best intentions to stay away. If he hadn’t been so damned competitive and simply left when the wolf made a play for Ms. Stroner, the first kiss would have never happened. And, Roman’s appetite wouldn’t have been whetted for the exotic flavor of the male.

  His cock twitched in his pants when he remembered the exhilarating slide of shaft against dick as he and Tobias drove deep into Ms. Stroner. Powerful thighs tangled with his and flexed against him with each stroke. And those damned eyes, golden and liquid with passion. Roman growled and shook his head.