Crimson Ties

by V L Moon

  As if the Nephilim sensed Arial’s hesitation, Celix pressed the hardness of his body flush against Arial. He fisted his hands in Arial’s hair and moaned as he laved Arial’s mouth, seeking admittance with his honeyed tongue. Reality slipped away from Arial. His own lips quivered nervously before parting to accept the warmth of Celix’s kiss. Their tongues languidly danced around each other, tasting their individual flavors. Lips suckled, wanting more. Their kiss smoldered, igniting a passion inside Arial that coursed through his veins and thickened the growing shaft of his cock. Blood engorged the length until it pulsed mercilessly against Celix who panted into Arial’s mouth. The Nephilim ground himself hard against Arial’s thigh. Celix’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes looked dreamlike as he arced into Arial.

  “Please say you want me.” Celix whimpered. He practically clawed Arial’s flesh with the need to be closer. Arial couldn’t bear to see the longing in Celix’s eyes. Tears glistened in their sad blue depths. How Clariel denied the beautiful creature the love he craved beggared belief?

  Purgatory rose up around him. Rhys’ face lingered briefly like a distant memory and then faded. It left Arial feeling cold as though he was somehow insulting the brief time they’d spent together. Fleeting moments had consumed them both and ended with Arial losing everything he’d ever loved or cared about. As hard as it had been to fall from grace, not being able to see Rhys, or feel the heat of his sensual embrace had left Arial more broken than any curse or fall ever could. For centuries, he’d harbored the bitter disdain of his mother’s curse and searched fruitlessly for Rhys, knowing that to find the demon would end in the demon’s demise and redemption for him. But, looking down into Celix’s eyes, Arial had to question himself and maybe come to terms with a few cold hard facts.

  Celix sighed and buried his head against Arial’s chest. “Will it ever get easier?”

  Arial sighed in turn and held Celix just that little bit tighter. He knew it was wrong to show the male such affection. Malachi would have him strung up by the balls for less; yet, he couldn’t dismiss him, not when he looked so raw and utterly lost.

  “No. It never gets easier. Not unless you make the choice to let go and move on. Some of us don’t have the option to choose, Celix. So please, if there is any chance at all that you can fix this, you need to try. Make Clariel see what he risks losing. If I can help, I will; I promise you. You don’t deserve to be alone. Neither of you do.”

  “And, what about you?” Celix asked as he pulled himself together.

  “Some things can never be fixed. One day, when the last star falls from Heaven’s embrace, the Creator might grant me a pardon. But, until that day, I have chosen the path to take and pledged my oath to protect Malachi and stand by Laziel. If there is ever any chance of escape for you, Celix, take it. Do not serve that bitch queen out of some sense of misguided loyalty. She does not deserve it, not now, not ever. Do you understand me, Celix?” Arial asked.

  The Nephilim nodded briefly. His eyes latched onto Arial’s mouth. A wry smirk tilted his lips as he lifted his chin and stole yet another warm, but brief kiss. His fingers lingered on Arial’s cheek for a second and then trailed down as he turned away.

  “You need to go my friend. Others will be here soon. They cannot be allowed see you. To allow it would be cruel.” Celix’s statement along with his kiss confused Arial. He was on the verge of asking the Nephilim to explain when his phone vibrated. With one last glance at Celix, Arial returned to the shadows and pulled out his phone. The text from Saul was brief. Malachi was safe, sleeping within the confines of Laziel’s private chapel. The news should have eased him, but as Arial made his way through Rome’s narrow streets a sense of unease crawled over his flesh.

  Arial knew the sensation well and relaxed back into his skin. It wasn’t long, mere seconds before the acrid scent of madness and desperation tickled Arial’s nose. Keeping his back toward the wall, Arial pushed the full flow of his power and energy out into the night. He knew Darklon would feel its bite and grinned sadistically when the echo of a gasp travelled through the night.

  Arial waited, eyes locked on Darklon’s hesitant approach. “What do you want, old man? I’m not in the mood for any more trivialities. I’m still covering my ass from your last failure. Say your peace and be done.” Arial kept his voice low and the mounts of his wings high. The warning in his tone wasn’t an act. After everything that had gone down in such a short space of time, Arial’s patience with the mad cap workings of the supernatural word was beginning to wear thin.

  The psychotic glint in Darklon’s eyes gave away the depths of the Elder’s mood. His fangs glistened and fresh blood marred his mouth. Arial eyed him, wondering what or who the crazy fool had fed from during the night. Darklon was gibbering, whispered words, making little or no sense. His hands never stopped moving as though he were lost in some deep and meaningful conversation with someone else. The crazy bastard had lost it big time. Arial turned to walk away, but caught the last part of Darklon’s rambling sentence. The Elder sneered, his eyes glowing as he mumbled a name Arial recognized, one that sent his own senses racing and his mind on alert.

  “Vischeral.”

  Darklon’s gaze shifted, darting in each direction as if any second something would jump from the shadows and take him. He lunged forward and gripped Arial by the arms. His ragged bitten nails dug into Arial’s biceps. He seemed feverish; his face flushed even in the darkness.

  “He’s mine. I knew it. I knew it! I won’t let him escape me this time. It’s all in the blood, silly fool. Silly fool, silly, silly, silly.” The rambling caused chills along Arial’s flesh.

  “Thought you could out smart me, but we’ll be showing you soon my magnificent moody boy. No one takes what’s mine. You’ll see. Bastards! Fucking pure blood. Going down, down, down, down, where the demons lie and the devil waits. Him and his bastard fairy.” Arial stood motionless, locked in Darklon’s punishing embrace while the Elder vampire spewed out every obscenity known to man. What shocked Arial the most was the easy way Darklon gave up the information he usually guarded so fanatically. Names, places, times and crimes rolled from his lips as he brought Arial into the perverted fold of his own corrupted mind.

  By the time Darklon churned out every detail of his lurid plan, a chill colder than ice seeped into Arial’s bones. Darklon’s evil intentions spread far and wide, and with dawn fast approaching, Arial was left feeling useless. If Laziel had been himself, Darklon’s ramblings would have borne no fruit, but with Laziel out of play and Malachi growing more and more susceptible to sunlight, Arial would have to virtually split himself in two to do what was necessary.

  Darklon’s laughter peeled through the night convincing Arial the vampire’s mind had become completely unhinged. He leaned close. “Set the wheels in motion, my Fallen friend. By the time the moon stands high in the sky, those mangy wolves will be pelts on my floor. Soon, my lover will return to take my side and Malachi’s throne.” Darklon’s words hit home fast. Something had tipped the crazy fool over the edge.

  Arial remembered the pictures, the shrine Darklon had made in Vischeral’s old home. “Holy shit.” Arial couldn’t believe the shit storm the night was dealing him. Between Darklon’s plan to take down the wolves and his avid insistence he’d found Bourne, Arial needed to move fast. Playing up to Darklon, Arial waited for the Elder to run out of steam. He had to stay cool, hide the panic rising inside of him.

  “When all this is over, Arial. I will remember those who stayed loyal. You, my fallen friend, have stayed true to your word. Once Malachi is rotting in his cell and whoring his seed to further our race, you and I will take away the scourge of the Nephilim, annihilate them and that repulsive whore they call a queen.” Darklon slurred.

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Senor De Sangue. If there is anything else I can do to ensure your plans reach fruition, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be ready and waiting.” Arial’s guts churned. Bile burned the back of his throat. He had to get to
Malachi and inform him of Darklon’s treachery. They needed to alert the wolves and send help. As for Vischeral, Arial hoped whoever the male was, he was fast and could somehow avoid Darklon’s imminent arrival.

  Darklon bowed awkwardly and then stepped back to study Arial. “You’ll make a fine replacement for that jumped up fairy that’s for sure.” The Elder’s face turned bitter with disgust. “It will give me great pleasure to see that cocksucker grovel at my feet. Great pleasure indeed. Especially since my plans for him are obscene to say the least. Who knows? You may even get to watch. Would you like that? I bet you would.”

  Arial itched to be away. He couldn’t take much more of Darklon’s evil, treasonous words. He’d begun to shake, not from the cold, but from the dire need to grab the motherfucker around the neck and squeeze until his eyes popped out and his body lay limp. Afterward, he wanted to watch as the dawn broke around them and turned the crazy bastard into a pile of filthy dust. As if on cue, the sky above them turned a beautiful shade of crimson. It quickly faded to pink as dawn broke over the horizon and gifted Arial with a few moments peace when Darklon faded before his eyes and took his leave for the vampires’ Sole Dormire.

  Arial moved, using incredible speed and what shade he could to mask his appearance. He raced through Rome and made his way toward the Vatican. Once inside, he slipped unnoticed through the dimly lit corridors he knew so well and didn’t stop until he came to the pontiff’s private rooms. Knocking once, Arial didn’t wait for a reply. He slid inside and dropped to his knees.

  “Please, Gregori, forgive my intrusion. I have dire news. I need to get to Malachi without anyone knowing I’m here.” Gregori didn’t ask why, he kissed Arial, blessed him twice and then motioned him to follow as he lead the way toward a floor to wall bookcase that doubled as a hidden doorway to Malachi’s private domain.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ~*~*~*~

  With the blood of his fellow Nephilim staining his flesh, Celix stared out across the crowd that gathered to greet him. The familiar faces of his Nephilim brothers looked on, burdened by a lifetime of tyranny and fear. As he walked the central aisle toward the queen’s opulent throne room, no one spoke. The vaulted ceilings and picturesque gallery landings that used to inspire him lay barren of beauty and filled Celix with a sense of dread. Only the strongest of the Nephilim were kept well-nourished and granted the warmth of an actual bed. The less fortunate, those that were born without the use of wings, or emerged to thin or weak, were used to scour the streets. Devious petty thieves starved of affection; they lived to serve their one true queen. More often than not, they were kept as playthings, servants to the cause. As Queen Onoskelis’s gofers, they were often beaten within an inch of their lives and then left to either crawl into a corner or bleed out over the floor. Unless, of course, they were well endowed.

  Queen Onoskelis’s libido knew no bounds. Her carnal appetite had to be constantly fed by the harem of Nephilim that sat at her feet and slept in her bed. And, when the flesh of the Nephilim failed to satisfy her shameless lust, she was known to use her knowledge of the underworld and call upon the demonic to quell her rampant lust.

  Celix shuddered as the memory of Clariel, bloodied, beaten and crawling toward him on all fours taunted him once more. How the gentle male survived the brutal assaults left Celix lost for words every time. Yet, Clariel had continued to deny her want of his cock. Clariel’s mere existence seemed to irk Onoskelis. Born the only son to a female Fallen and human male, Clariel held all of the beauty and grace of a true celestial. When he smiled, Celix was sure the Heavens reflected in the depths of those hypnotically alluring, beautiful eyes.

  Celix would have happily drowned within the languid violet pools if it were not for the endless uneasiness he felt over Onoskelis obsession with Clariel, whose ample phallus had become the object of her desires. Despite knowing the outcome of his defiance, Clariel stayed true to his virtue and took each beating before crawling back to Celix. Celix always cleaned him up, and kissed each wound, feeling the pain of Clariel’s affliction as if it were his own. He loved Clariel, always would. But, the male’s perception of himself was infinitely flawed. Wingless Nephilim were a rarity, and Clariel felt the absence of his feathered appendages deeply. So deeply in fact, he saw it as a substantial enough reason to deny himself love.

  “You disappoint me, Celix. If this habit continues, maybe, I’ll find a way to remind you of how foolhardy it is to upset me. Guards. The poles if you please.” Onoskelis sneered.

  Celix froze when Queen Onoskelis glided down from her dais. Tendrils of her black, greasy hair snaked out behind her to slither across the floor in her wake. Sickly yellow eyes that matched the color of her wings raked over the surface of his blood stained flesh. She licked her lips, exposing sharpened teeth. Her naked breasts peaked, and her hands rose to cup her ample mounds of flesh. The sight of her repulsed him, but the fear of her capabilities kept his gaze purposely locked on the sultry act she wanted to perform. Celix had been blessed until recently. He deliberately stayed off the radar and kept himself busy with the war against the vamps. He’d avoided any of the Queen’s lurid intentions. Until that moment.

  When she moved closer, he saw bite marks marred her heavy full breasts. Welts of red flesh lay streaked across her long thin legs. Onoskelis’s taste for giving and receiving pain was a well-known topic, a two way street. As she drew nearer, Celix broke out in a cold sweat. He stepped back, his gut churning as his Queen salivated. She dipped her fingers deep between the lips of her quim until her hand came free, covered in the vile pungent juices of the previous Nephilim that crawled at her feet. They whimpered feverishly and begged for Onoskelis to treat them to a taste, but her sights were firmly set upon making Celix pay for his mistakes. She kicked out hard, sending one of the Nephilim barreling into the dais steps and then back handed another who yelped when his Queen tugged on his leash.

  “Let this be a lesson to you, Celix. I don’t care how many have to die in order to kill that filthy abomination. I want Denali dead, do you hear?” A blow to the head sent Celix to his knees. Onoskelis was stronger than any of the Nephilim and used that strength to rule them mercilessly. Celix struggled against two of his own when the burn from the ropes tightened around his wrists, but it was no use. The solid poles were pushed back up and locked into place, leaving Celix suspended between them unable to escape.

  “Please no. Please don’t do this. It wasn’t my fault. Denali took them all on and still came away unscathed. What was I to do, my Queen? I nearly died myself. If it wasn’t….” Celix cut off his words abruptly. He wouldn’t mention the Fallen that had saved him. Arial had shown him more compassion than anyone else except Clariel. He wouldn’t betray him, not when Onoskelis had given specific instruction for Arial Nathanial to be brought back alive at any cost. If Celix even hinted that he’d seen Arial—Celix swallowed against a dry throat. He didn’t want to think of what Onoskelis was capable of doing to him if she found out.

  “You were saying?” Rancid breath swept over his face and threatened to make him gag. Not that it mattered. Onoskelis grabbed his jaw and squeezed until the bones in his cheek began to splinter and crack. Celix choked when her fingers entered his mouth and began to jut in and out of his throat. “I’ll have your cock next, Celix. I bet it tastes so nice, very sweet. Just like your pretty little mouth.”

  Celix gagged on Onoskelis fingers, but the vulgar bitch just laughed before she removed them. With a twitch of her hand, the Nephilim hovering around Onoskelis’s feet began to systematically service her. One went to his knees and began licking and fisting her dripping wet quim while the other reared up behind her. The length of his cock disappeared between the rounded globes of her ass.

  The wet slap of flesh, gurgling juices and euphoric moans from Onoskelis and the male’s filling both of her holes pierced the air and filled it with a sickening stench. It adhered to Celix’s skin. The depraved nature of their Queen sickened him. He struggl
ed, twisting away from her as her nails scored down the flesh of his thighs. They took with them the tight fitting leathers he wore. A stream of drool slipped from her lips as her nails penetrated his hips and held him in place.

  “Please, my Queen, I won’t fail again. No. No, please,” He moaned.

  She didn’t listen. Her hot wet mouth descended down Celix’s shaft. He screamed as Onoskelis’s teeth raked over the tip of his sensitive head and then sucked him in hard to the back of her throat. Using untold strength, she pistoned his hips urging him deeper until his balls slapped against her wet mouth. Onoskelis kept him there and used her tongue to tease around his balls, flicking them and rolling them, covering them in the drool that seeped from her mouth. She used the saliva to slick up the tight ring of flesh before pushing a finger into his ass.

  He refused to cry out, even when his body belied his distaste and blood pumped south to engorge his cock. Celix closed his eyes and relished the burning distraction from the ropes that twisted around his wrists. He thought of Clariel and those beautiful violet eyes and the want in them for something he thought he could never have.

  “I’ll always want you, Clary. Beautiful sweet Clary. At least you’re safe. At least you’re free.” Celix repeated Clariel’s name over and over and over again, using the image of his beauty to block out the Queen as she filled her throat with his spurting seed. When silence ensued and Celix eventually opened his eyes, the Queen had returned to her throne. An indulgent smile split her face. The ropes at his wrists suddenly came free. Celix fell to his knees and bowed his head before his Queen.