by V L Moon
What he created? What the fuck did the Fallen mean—what Laziel created? Him? “Back the fuck up and come again.” Malachi’s voice should have given the male pause. Low, cold and dangerous. But, Arial was beyond listening. He continued his tirade without noticing the malevolence in Malachi’s predatory sneer.
“The most fucked up part of it all…nothing Darklon did to him hurt him as bad as your refusal to acknowledge his love. He’s an angel, a Seraphim. His very soul thrives on love. Once a bond is made, his survival is determined by that bond.” Arial stalked closer.
“I know damned well he made you study angels. You know the power of an angel’s love.” And, with the last statement, Arial made a mortal mistake. His finger stabbed into Malachi’s chest. The savage monster lost all rational thought.
The soulless vampire, the monster Malachi struggled to control, wrestled control from Malachi’s rational side. Everything came into sharper focus. Arial’s heartbeat rang loud in his hears; he could even hear the blood as it pumped through the angel’s veins. Saliva dripped from needle sharp fangs. Eyes gleamed blood red and claws extended from his fingertips.
“Fuck me sideways,” Arial breathed as he finally caught on to the pissed off raging inside of Malachi. His eyes darted for the door, and he gauged the distance. Malachi moved to block him.
“I…want…my…angel,” he hissed.
“Not going to happen,” Arial countered, edging for the door. Malachi’s arm shot out and connected with the angel’s cheek. The male staggered sideways and came up hard against the wall.
“Wrong…answer.” Malachi hissed again. “Don’t make me hurt you, Fallen.” Arial responded with a flipped middle finger. Yup, Malachi could handle that. He sprang at the other male, and Arial met him midair. Fangs and claws ripped at Arial’s exposed flesh. Massive fists pummeled Malachi’s ribs. They crashed to the floor and rolled, destroying the remaining pews. Grunts and curses peppered the air. The stone wall stopped their progress. Malachi pinned Arial to the floor and straddled him. He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “What do you mean, he created me?”
“You having problems hearing, vampire?” Arial ground out. He bucked hard, sending Malachi flying over his head. Malachi flipped midair and landed lightly on his feet. The Fallen sprang from his back to his feet in a fluid move.
“Only when I hear bullshit, and that’s all you seem to be able to spout.” Malachi prowled forward.
“I speak truth, vampire. Laziel made you, created you from his own soul.” He pointed toward the altar. “The truth of it is locked inside that stone.” Malachi’s eyes darted to the Serendibite marbled rock. Faintly, he saw the outline of a scroll. A band tightened around his chest. A fear he refused to acknowledge thudded behind his ribs.
“I think I’d rather hear it from him. Now, one last time, Arial Nathanial. Either tell me where my angel is, or prepare to meet your Creator up close and personal.” Malachi snapped.
“And, once again, I’m telling you; he doesn’t want to see you. Get over yourself and let him go.” Arial shot back.
“Your funeral, angel.” Malachi charged forward and caught Arial around the waist. They crashed into the altar with such force, the smooth stone crumbled beneath their weight. They both grappled for the upper hand, but Arial’s strength was no match for the savagery of the unleashed vampire. Malachi pinned him to the floor and straddled his hips. He fisted a handful of dreads and yanked the bastard’s head hard to the left, exposing his jugular.
“No!” Arial bellowed, but the vampire was near starved and out of control. Malachi howled and struck. His fangs dug deep in the male’s throat. When the first unfamiliar pull poured into his mouth, Malachi’s sanity returned. He gagged and yanked free. The blood spilled from his mouth black as tar. Horrified, he stared at the puncture marks in Arial’s throat. With a curse, he shoved up on his knees. Flat on his back between Malachi’s thighs, Arial twisted his face away. Blood dripped onto the stone floor.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Malachi said and drug a hand across his mouth. His stomach threatened to revolt though he hadn’t swallowed anything. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and lurched away from the angel.
Arial shrugged. “I know my blood is tainted. No need to apologize for spitting it out.” He shoved to his feet and retreated to the opposite side of the destroyed chapel. Silence stretched. Malachi waited and watched the other male though it took every speck of his self-control not to attack again. Minutes passed, but the angel stood mute.
“Where is Laziel?” His patience reached its end.
“He’s safe.” Arial replied.
“I didn’t ask you that,” Malachi growled.
“It’s all I can tell you,” Arial countered.
The vampire stirred, beating against Malachi’s shields. “Then get out.” His blood red gaze locked on the Fallen. “Get out and don’t come back, because if you do, I’ll kill you.”
“Malachi, you don’t understand,” Arial’s strident voice rang in the room.
“But, I do understand Fallen. Laziel taught me the lesson a long fucking time ago; I just forgot the power behind it.” His eyes blazed at the other male. “Love is a weakness for mortals, angels and even for vampires.”
He dug the picture out of his pocket, but didn’t open it. “I may have never spoken the words aloud, but he should have known why. He alone knows my history and what passes as my soul.” Malachi laughed derisively. “Apparently better than I thought. I was created by him, to fulfill his Creator’s destiny. Every day of my life has been lived for someone else. He made me what I am; what you stand there and condemn.”
Malachi flung the picture across the room at Arial. “Bourne was the first person that didn’t expect anything from me. He was my friend and because of that, Darklon turned him, used him and nearly killed him. Guilt weighs on me every fucking day because of that.” Malachi jerked a finger to where the paper had fluttered to the floor.
“Take that back to him. That male is not my hang up. It’s his. When Bourne left, I didn’t spend every waking second looking for him, I didn’t yearn for him with every breath I took. But, I did learn the lesson Laziel forced upon me.” He turned and headed for the door leading into the enclave. “And now, I’m to be castigated for learning it too well.”
“Malachi, wait…,” Arial called.
But, he didn’t. Between one step and the next, he ported away from the enclave. He knew with absolute certainty where the angel had been held and that’s where he resumed his physical form. The landscape had changed, but the house had not. The front door stood open. The taint of blood and evil leaked into the sunlight. Malachi strode inside and followed his nose. Laziel’s blood sang a siren’s song as he descended the steps, pulling him unrelentingly to the room where his—the angel had been held.
He stood outside the broken door battling for composure. The smell of celestial blood clogged his nose. He swallowed, exhaled and stepped over the threshold. Vischeral stared at him from every inch of wall space. Streaks of Laziel’s blood marred the prints and stained the floor. Malachi’s gut heaved and the last shards of his heart not broken into by Arial’s accusations turned to dust. Love was a weakness. He’d known it, learned it, and lived it. And once again, another suffered De Sangue’s horrific atrocities because of him.
“I’m sorry, Laziel,” he whispered into the empty room. “So, sorry.”
~*~*~*~
Chapter Twenty-Five
~*~*~*~
Brazil
Alone, with nothing but his thoughts and opinions for comfort, Saul cursed himself for losing his grip on the rage threatening to consume him. For centuries, he’d used his station as guard elite as an outlet. When he wasn’t on duty, he spent hours, if not all night, training until his body gave out, or the need to feed won over. Exhausted, he’d often crawl into his lonely bed in the darkness of his sparsely clad rooms and wait for the onset of the Sole Dormire to claim him. Then, and only then, would he find peace, armistice from Mik
ael’s relentless screams as he fought to save him from the Nephilim attack. Their screams haunted Saul every night since. He hadn’t been the same since that cold November night.
The Nephilim outnumbered them, but he’d fought, fought until the blood of his enemy soaked the land beneath his feet. It wasn’t enough, would never be enough. Saul had watched Mikael die, been helpless as the Nephilim cut the unborn child from its mother’s womb. It had been the next night after his king and Laziel built the pyres upon which his family burned that Saul returned with them to Rome.
Ever since that night, Saul hung in a perpetual state of limbo. For five hundred years, he’d mourned, and used his status as Laziel’s guard as a calling. The angel trained him well, and not just in the art of combat. It was as if Laziel knew the grief ate away at him. He trained Saul, showed him how to erect mental walls for when the screams became too loud and the mantle of his grief threatened to drown him in despair. Over the years, the walls had become more like a shell for him to hide within, and more so since the night Miss Stroner first showed up, swinging her hips. She’d virtually glided through the royal enclave as though she owned the place.
With hair the color of honey and lips just as sweet, Saul found it increasingly hard to be around the vixen of a female. It didn’t help matters that his own body belied his brain. Saul was finding it increasingly hard to control his reactions toward her. He fought against the rise of his beckoning lust to such a degree he was sure his body would spontaneously combust every time she came near him. And, considering the fact they worked virtually alongside each other, it was a struggle every fucking God damned day. Christ, she made his body ache, his breath hitch and his fangs throb for just a taste of the crimson sweetness that sang through her veins.
”Enough,” Saul growled as he kicked off from where he was leaning against the wall. He had to stop with the mental imagery of her. He’d never be enough for a female like Ms. Stroner. Hell, she worked through Roman and Tobias in just one night. Saul knew he had the stamina to match the younger males, but he didn’t have the heart to be a one night fling.
By the time the last of the wolves took their leave, Saul’s patience stretched painfully thin. Instead of ignoring the wary glances from the small scattered groups of vampires seated around the room, Saul approached the bar and cracked open the seal on a bottle of Stoli Elit, Saul’s favored vodka of choice. The smooth flow of the liquor felt good going down.
“Here’s to another fucked up bastard.” Saul raised the shot glass and downed it in one slow, smooth swallow and felt his shoulders sag. “Why can’t you just do as you’re supposed to and sit on your God damned throne instead of giving me the fuckin’ run-around,” Saul asked the question of himself, and stiffened when he got a reply.
“He’s not the sort of king to sit around on his ass while his people are getting killed. But, I’ll happily inform him of your request once he returns.” Miss Stroner’s snarky reply brought a growl to Saul’s lips.
“Don’t you have a pet to groom, or isn’t Tobias in a sharing mood tonight?” Saul knew his words were bitter and completely disrespectful to someone of Kimberly’s station, but fuck. He hated the fact she’d chosen to take her fun sandwiched between the young Elder and his apparent wolf mate, instead of in his own bed. What he wouldn’t give to please her, take her in his arms and claim her as his own.
Saul sensed it, knew it was coming, but took it just the same. The blow landed right on target. Saul drank in the sweet, bitter sting of Kimberly’s hand hitting his face. Reflexes primed, Saul caught her by the wrist and swung Kimberly around until her back was pushed against the ledge of the bar. The room went quiet. Saul felt the fear in his people. He didn’t care.
“GET. OUT.” He growled. His anger leeched from his skin and sent a blast of freezing air into the room. Behind him, Saul heard the sound of scurrying footsteps followed by the heavy lock sliding into place as the doors to the Grand Hall slammed shut.
Eyes wide, Kimberly raised her chin in defiance and attempted to push the Saul back with her free hand. Her chest heaved as her breathing turned ragged. “Move, or so help me I’ll….” A gasp of breath stopped her words when Saul leaned in further and ran his tongue over the shell of her ear.
“You have no clue what you do to me do you? How much it hurt to see you with them, smelling them on you and knowing what you did. What you gave them so freely. Yet, you fight, me, someone who dares not even look at you for the fear of you seeing what I hide. Am I not good enough? Does my station as Laziel’s private guard not meet your standards, or exceed the expectations of someone like you?” He was being unfair and he knew it, but the frustration and anger ate at him.
“Forgive me, Miss Stroner. Next time, I will prostrate myself at your feet as your lowly servant while you fuck the next stranger that enters the enclave.” With his vehement piece said, Saul looked down into two pooling eyes that bled the life from his virulent vampiric soul. The hurt simmered just below the surface and teetered on the edge of her lashes before spilling over and staining her cheeks.
“Is that your impression of me, Saul? That I am nothing more than a snob, a whore who takes what she wants while looking down her nose at anyone she deems worthless. How dare you. I expected better from you.” The anger in her words poured shame through Saul’s veins. He hung his head and stepped back.
“Forgive my bitter tongue, Miss Stroner.” Saul spoke without meeting her eyes. “It forgets the sensibilities needed when you are near. I will take my leave of you with shame in my heart. Goodnight.” He took another step back. “If you only knew how I really see you; how delicately I long to treat you. You deserve someone who’ll give you that…that and so much more besides.” He murmured before moving to the opposite end of the bar.
Saul was spent. He had no idea how he’d ever look the female in the face again. Within a matter of seconds, he’d managed to insult the only female he’d shown an interest in since his mate was killed. Worse, he’d embarrassed himself by virtually admitting how he felt.
“God, you’re a fool.” He castigated himself for his weakness, and then made a grab for the bottle sitting on the bar. Drinking until he couldn’t think anymore wouldn’t solve shit, but he’d take it over the shame and the screams that haunted him every damn night.
The touch of a hand against his own stopped Saul dead in his tracks. “Please, Saul, tell me how it is you do see me.” Kimberly asked and lowered her face to hide the slight blush to her cheeks.
Saul immediately reached to tilt her face back up to his. “Never lower your head in my presence. I don’t get to see beauty all that often and there isn’t anything more beautiful to me than the color of your eyes.” The tips of her fingers traced over the knuckles of his hand. They sent a rush of warmth along his arm. It danced over the surface of his flesh.
He shouldn’t do this. As much as Saul wanted her, he couldn’t allow himself to lower his defenses and let her in. Even if he could, Saul wasn’t sure Kimberly would like what she saw. While his outer shell wasn’t too bad, the inside was an emotional wreck; a mangled mass that used to resemble a heart.
“I’m sorry for my vulgarities, Miss Stroner, I could blame it on the stresses of the evening, or even on our obstinate King, but I won’t. I was rude and uncouth, and I am sorry for that. Now, is there anything I can do for you before I take my leave?” Saul asked and eyed the beautiful female who smiled coyly. She took Saul gently by the hand.
“Dance with me.” The words floated from Kimberly’s mouth and captured Saul’s heart. She led him into the middle of the large, empty ballroom. Saul’s gaze wandered over her slender figure. Kimberly glided gracefully across the floor, keeping her head held high and proud; yet, she wasn’t stiff.
On the contrary, she moved like Stoli over ice, smooth and sinuous. Saul slipped his hand around her waist. She was classy, sophisticated, warm and yielding as he took the lead in a slow melodic waltz. Kimberly moved in complete synchronicity with Saul’s much larger frame.
As tall as she was, Saul towered over her. He felt clumsy, even though he was more than able to dance.
When the music changed to a slower, more up to date romantic tempo, Kimberly eased in against him. She shifted her position until his thick meaty thigh nestled securely between her long slender legs. A low moan rumbled from his chest as Kimberly slowly ground herself against him. The temperature in the room rose dramatically, but Saul refused to pull away.
The heat of her mound scorched his thigh as they moved against each other. Her sublime scent flowered between her legs and rose up to tantalize Saul’s thirst. His breathing deepened. In his arms, Kimberly groaned, and then looked up to meet his lust filled gaze. Saul knew he was being forward, but times were dangerous. Who was to know what fate held in store for them?
Taking her hand, Saul kissed each knuckle before turning it in his own and kissing along her open palm. His other hand dropped to cup her perfectly rounded ass. ”You asked how I see you. I am a soldier, Kimberly. I am not used to beauty such as yours; yet, I find myself compelled by you. My ways are brutish at best, but I have a good heart, a loyal heart. It desires that which it cannot have. While I might pass inspection dressed in the fine threads of designer clothes, beneath them lies a body made for war. You ask what I see;— you are sol-nyshka moyo; my sun and the sunlight that guides me in my darkest days. You. Are. Beautiful. To. Me.”
~*~*~*~
Tears swam in her eyes. His words had hurt, but beneath the nastiness, she’d heard the pain in his voice. It had given her the courage to approach him even when she felt shattered inside. Since their last meeting in their chambers, she’d thought about nothing but the look on Saul’s face as he’d attempted to kiss her. With her body pressed flush against his as they danced, she wished for a chance to repeat the moment, only she wouldn’t pull away. She knew he used the harsh words to protect himself. This male, this beautiful, strong and gentle male had no clue of the splendor and passion that made him who he was.
