by V L Moon
“I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered to the dying man. “I can't…I won't live without you.” Raising his head another fraction, he brushed his lips across Copi's cold cheek. The human's struggling heart missed another critical beat. His breathing grew more ragged. Yet, Vischeral stalled. He didn't have much time. Squaring his shoulders, he grabbed his fortitude with both metaphorical fists and torqued himself up so he stared down in Copi's beautiful face. Softly, he brushed a thumb over the male's firm lips.
“I love you, Copi. It's the only reason I can do this, the only reason I can break a vow made centuries ago.” Vischeral spoke aloud and directly into Copi's mind. Shoring his resolve and viciously shoving his emotions behind an icy barrier, he let his gaze drift lower to the vein that beat sluggishly. With swift precision, he struck, releasing the toxin that would forever erase Copi's humanity.
The venom raced through Copi's system, reaching his heart just as the last feeble beat echoed in Vischeral's ears. The massive chest rose and fell for the last time. Vischeral closed his eyes to hold back the scalding blood tears that threatened. He thought about praying, but how did you ask God to save a monster; to allow that monster to live?
There was no guarantee Copi would survive the transformation. His body was massively traumatized. Vischeral withdrew his fangs and sat back on his heels, licking the lush taste of Copi's blood from his lips. Growling in anger, fear and remorse, he pulled his bonded male into his lap. Carefully, he cradled Copi against his chest as memories of his own transformation haunted him. He'd awakened alone and terrified. And, starving though it was a hunger he hadn't understood. He'd passed the entire night alone. Darklon hadn't returned to the secured lair until dawn. By that time, Vischeral paced in a frenzied state more animal than human. He'd attacked Darklon, the scent of blood goading him into savagery. Even as he'd downed large gulps of the vampire's blood, he'd been horrified by his actions. Unbeknownst to Vischeral, he played right into Darklon's hands.
The wily bastard had planned everything perfectly. Given Vischeral's strength of will as a mere human, Darklon had known he would transform into a formidable vampire. One he, Darklon, wanted to control. For his plan to work, he needed Vischeral wild with need. He succeeded.
Finished feeding and drunk on blood, Vischeral presented an easy target for Darklon's evil lust. Vischeral had awakened the next night horrified at the memories of Darklon's depravity. Violated and used, he tried to escape. An exercise in failure as it turned out. A sadistic bastard, Darklon took great pleasure in subjecting Vischeral to his will. Unable to raise a hand against his Sire or to escape the mind control Darklon held over him, Vischeral had suffered two centuries of the vampire's insatiable and cruel lust.
His salvation came at the hands of an old friend and Darklon's enemy.
He owed his life to Malachi Denali and the Seraphim that guarded him. He didn’t know how they found him, but he never looked back when they released him. Not even to say thank you. He disappeared into the darkness without asking questions. Later, he learned Malachi was the new king of the race, the only pure blooded vampire left in the world. He heard the rumors of the battles with the Nephilim and Darklon’s quest to steal the throne. He also learned of his own supposed death, but he never relaxed his guard. Vischeral valued his freedom and ignored anything to do with the vampire realm except when Laziel contacted him. He had no wish to re-visit that angel’s pissed off side.
For two centuries, the ruse of his death appeared to have held. With the events of the night, his reprieve ended. By changing Copi, he opened himself up to Darklon's corrupt awareness. He would sense the new link to his blood. The question was; would he investigate? Even if Darklon found him, Vischeral would not regret his decision. As long as Copi lived, Vischeral could hold onto hope.
A tingling in his gut, drug him out of reverie. Dawn's greedy fingers teased at the horizon. Easing Copi onto the ground, Vischeral spared him one glance before surging to his feet. Back at the crash site, wolf entrails and limbs littered the clearing. Deep crimson blood, Copi's and the wolf's, soaked the snowy expanse. The Hummer, probably still steaming, lay crumpled against the tree where it had come to its final rest. None of it matter one fuck to Vischeral. Only Copi mattered. But, not reporting the crash would result in more trouble from their human counterparts. Pulling his cell, Vischeral hit speed dial. The chief's pissed off gravel spat in his ear.
“What the fuck do you want, Bourne? It's—Holy Christ! It's not even five a fucking clock. A.M.” The man’s words spiked with irritation.
“Dane hit a wolf, a big assed one. Wrecked the Hummer. It's wrapped around a tree in the park where Clara DeFoe was found. He's banged up pretty bad so I’m taking him to the doc. The wolf; is a fucked up mess so you'll need a cleanup crew.”
“Why the fucking hell are you calling me then? Hang the fuck up and dial NINE. ONE. ONE.” The Chief's pissed off soared. He was apparently not a morning person. Too fucking bad. Vischeral wasn't impressed.
“No.” Vischeral bit out the word, his tone brooking no argument. “I'm taking him with me. I'll be in touch.”
“Bourne, don't you fucking hang—” Too late. Vischeral snapped the phone closed, cutting the Chief off in mid-sentence.
He pocketed the phone and squatted beside Copi. Tenderly, he slid his arms under the ravaged body. If the change was successful, it would heal the horrific injuries inflicted by the wolf and the wreck. With exquisite care, he tucked Copi's face into his neck. His heart broke at the cold touch of once warm lips against his flesh. Standing, he hugged Copi close to his chest and muttered low.
“I'll have you home in a second,” he murmured. Dead leaves swirled in the air, evidence of Vischeral's passage as he streaked for home ahead of the sun. Before the sun kissed the horizon, he walked through his own front door with Copi wrapped securely in his embrace.
His mind sprang the hidden door and he descended the sharp incline. When he reached the floor, he crossed to his bed still disheveled from his sleep. Copi’s scent clung to the sheets and invaded his senses. Distraught, Vischeral lowered his burden to the mattress uncaring of the blood, gore, dirt or leaves.
Quickly, he set to work stripping off the tattered remains of Copi’s clothes. Fully naked, Copi was a nightmare of exposed organs, tissue and bone. A rumbling growl of outrage rolled through the room; a continuous symphony rising and falling with Vischeral's agitation. Savagely, he wished the wolf alive again just so he could kill the son of a bitch all over again, but slower, to ensure the fucker suffered.
After collecting the needed paraphernalia, Vischeral returned to the bed once again faced with giving Copi a sponge bath. Refusing to allow doubt any foothold at Copi's bedside, Vischeral shut down his thoughts, concentrating solely on cleaning his male.
Vischeral swiped a large hand down and across a thickly muscled thigh removing the grime. He froze, his eyes locked on Copi's flesh. The shallow wound running from the outside of his knee to mid-thigh knitted closed right before his eyes. Vischeral's large shoulders sagged as his strength ebbed. Tears burned his eyes and fell onto Copi’s chest. The change was happening; at least physically.
Slowly, the pallor of Copi's skin vanished, replaced by his natural bronzed coloring. With each noticeable change, Vischeral relaxed a bit more. When the massive chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, Vischeral hung his head and winged a silent prayer skyward. Breathing was a human habit, a human need that would continue until the final stages of change. But, it meant Copi was fighting to stay alive.
When the brain stem was compromised, the shit would get critical. Some humans simply could not tolerate the change. Vischeral maintained his faith. Copi was strong already, and he had an added advantage. His bond with Vischeral. Through the bond, Vischeral could and fucking would share the indomitable force of his own will. The very will Darklon sought to conquer so long ago.
For Copi, Vischeral would give all of it—all of himself—to ensure Copi lived. While Copi’s body healed, Vischera
l continued with the bath. Once complete, he maneuvered Copi to carefully change the sheets.
After Copi was tucked into a clean bed, Vischeral stripped and slid in beside the preternaturally still male. Gathering Copi close in his arms, he sealed them in, ensuring doors were locked and their presence cloaked. If, no when, Copi woke, Vischeral was damn sure of one thing. His male would not wake alone. Settling in, he stroked Copi's abs around the still healing flesh and waited.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Thirty-Three
~*~*~*~
Italy
Water lapped at his boots, but it wasn’t the blond waves of the Tiber. Gone too were the never-ending sounds of the city and the stench of humans packed too closely together. Instead, the unmistakable scent of the forest tickled his nose. It reminded him of home, their small dwelling high in the Apennine mountains when it was only him and Laziel. Malachi blinked and lifted his head to gaze into the distance. If he expected to see the angel, it didn’t happen. Choppy blue water stretched before his eyes. On his left, trees stretched away in an arc as the beach curved; same on the right.
Silent and still, he waited.
“You surprise me, Azarian. You’re not one for sitting idle.” Laziel’s voice washed over him. Nerve endings sparked to life. Fingers trembled before curling into fists. The desperate need to whirl and grab the male tormented him; yet, he stood as if frozen, facing the water. Fangs dug into his bottom lip to hold back the questions.
“Not going to talk to me? I see your stubbornness hasn’t changed.” The smart mouth drew Malachi’s lasered gaze to the angel. His heart throbbed once, twice against his chest before he forced it to comply with his determination to remain unaffected.
The angel’s form flickered and faded, becoming hazy. “I’m with you, Azarian. I’ve always been with you.” He lifted a hand and reached out, but Malachi stepped away. The pain in his chest was too close to the surface. One touch and the control he held on to so tenaciously would crumble. Sadness drifted across the features he knew as well as his own.
“You have to trust me, Lachi. Our destinies are so much more than I ever thought. The scroll was right, you are to save a race, but I assumed wrong. It wasn’t the vampire race.” Fear combined with awe in Laziel’s eyes. “I never suspected, never even imagined it possible,” he spoke low, whispered words that were nearly swallowed by the sound of the waves.
Again, he reached out, and would not be denied. Lean, strong fingers closed around Lachi’s wrist. Heat raced from the point of contact thawing the ice. Malachi hissed. The angel’s form wavered and faded more. “Our journey is only just beginning, my vampire.” Laziel lifted their hands and placed Malachi’s outstretched palm on his rounded belly. Laziel’s shape flickered as the implication slammed into Malachi.
“…must be protected…” The words echoed in Malachi’s head as sleep gave up its hold. With a savage growl, Malachi surged to his feet, head back, fists clenched and feet braced wide apart. He struggled to contain the furious roar and the runaway pounding of his heart. Everything, from Loz’s bizarre behavior their last night together until the present, fell into perspective. Anger spiked through his veins, more potent than any blood or alcohol.
Used.
Betrayed by the one being vaunted as the purest, coaxed into the trap by one he fucking knew Malachi trusted above all others. Everything he thought he knew about his life shattered along with his heart. His world crumbled around him. Crashing to his knees, he rubbed at the ache in his chest, surprised to find flesh and bone instead of the cavernous hole he’d expected.
Unlike the Elders or even Darklon who made clear their intentions, the Creator took from him what he’d fought like hell to protect. His seed and his free will. And, he’d used the one being capable of luring him into the ambush. “Laziel,” the name fell into the room from lips numb with shock. Terror took hold of Malachi’s heart.
The angel was pregnant, would give birth to his child, a new race of vampire and angel combined. His chest heaved as he struggled with agonizing revelations. He’d been protected, trained and sired for one purpose. Had the angel been sent to him to ensure the birth of the babe nestled in Loz’s womb? Another gut twisting thought tore through him. Had Laziel suffered through the affliction of his perverse sexual needs out of duty? Malachi’s stomach rebelled. He’d thought, no he would have sworn on his life Laziel loved him. He’d never heard the words, but he hadn’t needed them. Nor had he offered them to the angel.
His breath came in ragged gasps, panic vied with agony. He stumbled back to his feet and glanced around wildly. Was Laziel gone; forever replaced by Lorenza? Bile rose in his throat. He was in the chapel, the place he’d built for the male he loved. The word nearly sent him sprawling again. Never admitted to anyone, even to himself and now it was futile. A sob shook his frame, but couldn’t escape the lump plastered in his throat. Bloody tears tracked down his cheeks.
He had to get out. Fuck, it hurt. The door crashed open, and he tumbled into the hallway. After all of the battles with the Elders, the fucking Creator had succeeded where they failed. And, he had taken Laz from him. An animalistic groan ruptured the air. Saul’s aquamarine gaze pinned him.
“Malachi! What the fuck?” The guard raced toward him, but Malachi spun away. He didn’t even realize he’d ported until the bite of winter’s breath whispered over his neck. He blinked to clear his vision, and his heart sank. The small abode where it had all started. He felt, rather than heard, Saul take form at his back. He opened his mouth to tell the Guard to leave, but didn’t trust his voice. They stood silent for several minutes, two males seemingly alone in the vast universe.
“Go inside. I’ll keep watch,” Saul spoke low. “When you’re ready, we’ll head back to the enclave.” And with that, the Guard settled in to his usual stance, eyes tracking the surroundings as if it were a normal day and Malachi’s very foundation hadn’t just cracked beneath him. Surprisingly, the softly spoken commands galvanized him to do exactly as suggested. He paced numbly to the door and forced the latch. He had to come to grips with the tattered remains of his life. When dusk kissed the Earth again, he would start the search for his child and his angel, with or without the Creator’s blessing.
~*~*~*~
Brazil
The sound of a frantically pushed back chair and his secretary’s strident, ’you can’t go in there’ preceded the massive mahogany door swinging wide. Arial’s enormous form filled the threshold. The dark scowl on his face did not inspire a happy greeting.
“I have to go, Toby. Arial’s here.” He bit back a grin at his wolf’s pout. “I promise I’ll be there to see you in three days. I’ve checked all the time differences and sunsets. Besides, I still need to give you your Christmas present. We sort of forgot it when you were here.” A loud aggravated huff jammed his words in his throat. He flicked a glance at Arial’s lowered brows. “Love you.” The two words brightened the shine in his lover’s eyes.
“Love you. Don’t let the big bad Fallen eat you.” Tobias waved and hit the disconnect button.
Closing the laptop, Roman rose from behind his desk. Faced with the Fallen, the questions he intended to ask slunk away. If possible, Arial’s frown deepened when Roman simply stared at him. “I ah, I went back and checked and Loz was…she was gone. But, there’s been no word from the King, so I wasn’t sure,” he trailed off as the male’s posture when stiff.
“You did your part De Sangue, leave it be.” Arial shifted and the tattered wings at his back rustled. Briefly, Roman wondered why the male didn’t hide them. Arial caught his gaze and narrowed his eyes. “You got something else, kid?”
“A couple of things actually,” Roman said, anger finally locating his courage. “First, don’t call me De Sangue. I should have listened to my mother. That bastard is not my father. It’s Chamberlin, Roman Chamberlin.”
The dark brows went up. “Made it official with the pup did you?”
“I haven’t cleared it with the King, but since he
’s responsible for outing us, I don’t see where he’ll have a problem.” The bravado was a bit forced. Denali did have the power to deny them, but Roman believed his King would not only sanction his union with Tobias, he’d welcome it.
“Yeah well, you didn’t call me here to discuss wedding invitations. You want to cut the bullshit? Malachi’s waiting on me right now,” Arial growled, his irritation obvious.
“Good, we can go see him together. I called because I wanted to know how Loz was doing. I know she’s vampire, but she’s still female.” Roman circled the desk, but Arial’s large hands closed over his biceps.
“Look kid, the last place you want to be is Denali’s enclave. I got her out, she’s recuperating. Leave it at that,” Arial said. And, though his voice remained even, Roman knew the Fallen was hiding something.
“All the same, I’d rather see for myself. I keep seeing her there, chained, bleeding. I need to know that she’s okay. Hang on, I’ll let Anahi know I’m leaving.” Roman moved to step around Arial, but the Fallen matched his move.
“Fuck, you’re stubborn,” Arial spat. “Take my word for it. She’s safe. I may be Fallen, but I won’t lie to you.”
“Then you won’t have a problem with me going to Italy,” Roman replied. “We either go together, or I’ll go on my own.” He swallowed hard, but held Arial’s fierce gaze.
“It’s your funeral, kid.” The angel finally relented. “When you’re pickin’ your balls up off the floor, I’ll be doing the I told ya so bit.”
~*~*~*~
Italy
The dream came again. Alone on the deserted beach, Malachi watched the waves break just shy of his boots and waited in tense repose for the angel to appear. Even knowing what to expect, Malachi felt the anger bubbling in his gut. The banter, the soul drugging scent of his male, and then the pivotal moment his palm made contact with the curve of warm rounded flesh. Instead of exploding, he concentrated on the familiar feel of the angel’s skin beneath his hand.
