The End of Hatred
Page 14
Miranda studied him, not wanting to divulge her secrets, but understanding that as an extraordinary soldier he could possibly give her some useful suggestions. “I was thinking so, yes. Kenden has plotted and mapped their caves with great accuracy. I believe I know where to strike to do the most damage and find Crimeous the most vulnerable.”
“His spies are many. They’ll know you’re coming almost before you do.”
“Yes. I’ve anticipated that. Ken will help me break our troops into many different battalions. The constant onslaught of fresh troops will be devastating for them. As you must know, the Deamon army is vast but their fighters are weak. They have no strong general, such as you or Ken, and their training is basic at best. We have been able to defeat them so far.”
Shifting, she sat up straighter, uncrossing her legs and stretching them in front of her. “But we have seen an evolution in their army as well. They’re getting stronger and more cunning as the centuries wear on. Eventually they will be formidable.”
“We’ve seen the same. Up until now they have been a nuisance, draining our energy and our money. But that won’t last forever. It would be best to defeat them now, before they grow stronger.”
“Well, that’s my goal.” She took a sip of the Scotch. “Defeating Crimeous will send the Deamons deeper underground. They’re not smart or capable enough to function above-ground without him. Whereas Slayers and Vampyres have our functioning societies, and the humans have their own, unaware of us, the Deamons are not that advanced. Killing Crimeous is the key.”
Latimus’ gaze was focused on her and it gave her time to truly study him. Unfazed by his scrutiny, she looked at his jet-black hair, pulled back by a leather strap, his long angular nose and full lips. “I would take any advice from you if you wish to give it. It isn’t often that I have the greatest general on the planet’s ear.”
The side of his mouth turned up. “Flattery is it?” he said in his firm baritone. “That seems beneath you.”
“Nothing is beneath a ruler when their peoples’ lives are at stake.”
A look passed between Latimus and Sathan, who had stayed remarkably, and a bit infuriatingly, silent during this exchange.
“What?” she asked, her voice relaying her annoyance.
“I’m just imagining your cousin’s face when he hears that you called me the greatest general on the Earth instead of him.”
“He would admit the same to you. Kenden is humble and devoid of vice. If someone is better than him, he says it. He wasn’t meant to be a commander; he was forced to be. You, on the other hand, were born for it. It emanates from every fiber of your being. Kenden respects that being an expert general comes naturally to you.”
“Well, he’s done a fine damn job. That fucking eight-shooter has been a thorn in my side since he invented it. It changed the game for us and we had to step up our training to a whole other level.”
“He would be proud to hear it,” Miranda said, offering the Vampyre a smile.
“Okay fine,” he said, looking at his brother. “She’s not as bad as I thought. But I still don’t like her.”
Sathan chuckled and Miranda waved her hand. “Hi. Um, yeah, sitting right here. I can hear you, jerk.”
“I take it back,” he muttered, sipping his Scotch.
“You can’t take it back!”
“Okay kids,” Sathan said, chuckling. “Calm down. This has been a long journey and we will all be happy to get home tomorrow evening. Latimus and I are excited to be reunited with Arderin.”
Miranda felt a pang in her chest at the mention of going home and stared absently into the campfire. How angry was her father going to be at her? Pretty damn angry, if she had to guess. She would just have to work hard to convince him that her cause was just and noble. And she couldn’t make any mistakes when attacking Crimeous. She had to kill him swiftly and effectively for her father to respect her. Finishing the last of her Scotch, she placed the cup on the ground and chewed on her lip as she watched the blazing fire.
“Miranda.” Sathan’s voice came from above her. Looking up, he was standing over her. “Were you daydreaming? Latimus turned in for the day. You ready?” He extended his hand down to her.
Grabbing it, she let him pull her up. He must have overestimated her weight because she flew up and banged into his chest. “Ooph,” she said, rubbing her nose.
“Oh no,” he said, tilting his head to inspect it. “Did you break your nose again?”
“Ha ha,” she said, giving him a sarcastic look. They were now standing chest-to-chest, the top of her head barely coming to the bottom of his thick neck. The proximity caused her heart to start beating faster and she knew she should take a step back.
She didn’t. His Adam’s apple, in her direct line of view, bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly.
“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his right hand under her chin and tilting her face up to his.
“Yes,” she whispered, hating that she didn’t have control of her voice.
With his left hand he extended his index finger and ever-so-softly traced the bridge of her nose. Involuntarily, her eyes drifted closed at the gentle touch. “It doesn’t look broken.” His voice was gravelly and so deep that she felt her insides vibrate from the sound of it.
“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her lids to look up at him. Into him.
Slowly, as if not to startle her, he ran his right hand from her chin, over the soft curve of her lower jaw, to cup her cheek. The scratchy pad of his thumb began a whisper-soft caress over her bottom lip. Desire, unchecked and wanton, curled in her stomach.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
His dark irises whisked over every angle of her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
He slid the pad of his thumb that had been resting on her lower lip, dipping it just slightly onto the wetness of her inner-lower lip. She sensed a change in his body, a tightening of muscles, and knew he had grown hard. Imagining how large someone like he must be in that state, she felt the desire that had been swirling in her stomach pool between her thighs in a rush of wetness.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes and stilled. He inhaled sharply and then looked down at her, a blazing desire haunting his gaze. “What is it?” she asked, her voice so soft in the darkness.
“I can smell your arousal.”
Her skin flushed with the knowledge that she couldn’t disguise her yearning from him. Feminine power jolted down her spine. It was exhilarating.
Testing, she lifted her tongue and touched the tiny red tip to his thumb. At his resulting growl, she closed her lips fully.
Cursing, he pulled his thumb from her mouth and slid the hand to the back of her head, gently gripping her hair and tilting her face up toward his. Miranda gasped at the act; so primitive, so primal. And then he devoured her.
Large, strong lips surrounded her own pink ones and he melted into her as he kissed her. Needing more, his tongue plundered her lips until she let him in, all the way. His tongue swept her mouth and she lifted hers to battle with his.
“By the goddess, Miranda,” he breathed and continued to ransack her mouth with his. He slid his free hand up her arm and cupped her neck, massaging the tense muscles there. Slowing, he pulled back to lick her lower lip and then to nibble at the juicy flesh there.
Suddenly her sanity returned. What the hell was she doing? Was she really kissing her greatest enemy? Self-revulsion shot through her.
“Stop.” She placed a hand on his chest.
Confusion swept over his features under the pale shade of the trees. “Miranda—”
“I said fucking stop, okay,” she said, shoving him with both hands. Fury ran through her that he wasn’t even budged by her push. “I don’t know what your angle is but if you think I’m going to sleep with the person responsible for murdering countless Slayers over the centuries then you’re batshit crazy.”
Sathan sighed, lowering his hands to his sides. “You’re angry at yourself, not me.”
“There’s no angle here, Miranda, and I don’t play games. I’ll tell you straight up so that there’s no doubt left in your stubborn little head.” He took a step closer and she stood her ground, lifting her chin up defiantly. Heat radiated between them. “I’m attracted to you and you are to me. Don’t bother denying it,” he said, pointing a finger in her face when she started to sputter in dissent. “I can smell your arousal. Vampyres have heightened senses for these things.”
Miranda clenched her thighs together, mortified that she was so wet in her most private place. Just from kissing him. Good fucking grief.
“I have no angle except to help my people and hopefully get you to see that I want to end this war as much as you do. I’ll apologize for crossing any boundaries you set because I’m a gentleman, but I won’t apologize for kissing you.” His voice softened as his face moved closer to hers. “And if I fuck you one day, I won’t apologize for that either. The way you responded to me, I think you could use a good tumble with someone who isn’t scared that you’re a princess and who can make you forget who you are when you come.”
Her palm crashed against his cheek with all of the force she could muster. He barely flinched. “Fuck you,” she said through gritted teeth.
“One day, if you’re lucky,” was his angry reply. And then he turned and stalked into his tent.
Miranda picked up her thermos top and threw it in the woods, yelling in frustration. What a conceited, pompous ass! Thank all the gods this trip was almost over. Otherwise she’d strangle the bastard herself.
She put out the fire, wishing it was as simple to tamp down the shaking in her limbs from the heated exchange and mind-blowing kiss. Why did the jerk have to give her the best kiss of her life anyway? Annoyance gnawed at her insides.
As she lay in the tent attempting to sleep, she took a moment to contemplate why she had reacted to him that way. How could she be so attracted to a Vampyre? The monster who had slaughtered her people? Hating herself, her traitorous body fell into a fitful slumber.
* * * *
Evie ran her hands over the lush red grapes. Longing to taste one, she pulled it from its stem and placed it in between her rouged lips. Flavor burst on her tongue as she chewed, closing her eyes in pleasure.
“Mademoiselle,” the wine maker called behind her. “We hope you have enjoyed the winery tour. Now it is time to head back for your complimentary glass.”
“Thank you,” she said, walking over and patting the man’s cheek. His brown eyes glowed with desire. Tilting her head, she contemplated him. He was quite handsome, with his curly brown hair, goatee and brown eyes. She figured him to be in his mid-thirties, which hopefully meant he knew how to navigate a clitoris. Younger men were always terrible at that, too consumed with finding their own pleasure. Deciding she might let him try later, she gave him her sultriest smile and headed inside.
She’d done this wine tasting solo, as she preferred to do most things in life. Of course, she’d made friends, so as to blend in and not call attention to herself. But she cherished her solace and loved spending time at the beautiful wineries in France.
Once inside, the sommelier poured her a glass of Bordeaux and she headed to the porch to watch the sunset. Sitting in one of the rocking chairs, she sipped the rich liquid and watched the horizon as it tried to grab the sun. Crimson streaks battled with golden rays and small, white clouds flitted by. Birds sang their songs to her as she allowed herself to feel contentment.
Suddenly the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention. Not wanting to appear alarmed, she slowly stood and placed her glass on the wooden railing of the balcony. Scanning the numerous vines that ran parallel on the meadow before her, she waited.
His presence was detectable, like a feather-light wrap placed over her pale skin. Unwilling to let him see her discomfort, she fought the urge to rub the chill bumps that popped up on her arms. Realizing that he wasn’t going to show himself, at least not today, she lifted the glass and gave a salute. If not to him, then to the blazing sun as it burned the far-off mountains.
He was playing with fire, whoever he was. She hoped he understood that. Finishing her wine, she gave one last scan of the vines and decided to head home.
* * * *
Miranda woke that evening, ready to see Kenden and to embark on the next phase of her journey. She also needed some space to clear her head, especially after the kiss of the century that she’d had last night with the leader of the species who had slaughtered so many of her people. She would need to analyze it when she had privacy to gather her thoughts. For now, she was determined to act as normal as possible around Sathan.
“Good evening,” she said, zipping the remnants of her tent in her pack as the two Vampyres exited theirs. “I’ve already packed up so I’ll meet you at the Hummer.” Throwing her pack over her shoulders, she departed for the car. Well, that was one way to act cool. Complete avoidance. Nice job, Miranda, she chided herself.
Twenty minutes later they appeared from the brush. After throwing their packs in the trunk, Latimus got behind the wheel. Sathan approached her beside the car. “How did you sleep?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“Fine. It was obviously a mistake. I’d rather not make a big deal out of it.”
He shrugged and climbed in the front seat.
She sat in the back, annoyed that he didn’t even seem phased by the kiss.
They drove in silence most of the way, Miranda jamming to Soundgarden through her earbuds. A few hours in she lifted her gaze to see Sathan waving at her. “How in the hell do you function with those things so loud?” he asked when she pulled out one earbud.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
“We’re back in cell service range.”
“Oh, thanks,” she said, pulling her phone from her pack. Powering it on, she saw that she had ten voicemails and twenty-seven text messages. Whoa. Something must be wrong.
Scrolling through, the first texts were from Ken telling her that he had calmed her father…for now. He’d told the kingdom that she was vacationing at Restia and he wanted her to comply with that narrative when she got home.
Then the texts got more dire.
Ken: Randi, the Vampyre princess escaped. Her brothers will find out the instant you all regain service. I would address it outright and have them drop you at the wall where you first met instead of the clearing where we were holding her captive. Sending escort vehicles so they don’t hurt you.
No sooner had she finished reading the text than two Hummers appeared on each side of their vehicle, keeping pace with them.
“It seems that your cousin has sent soldiers to escort you back to our original meeting point since our sister escaped,” Sathan said dryly, looking at her from the front seat.
“It seems so,” Miranda said, not wanting to push her luck. The Vampyre princess was the only insurance policy she had and she was now in dangerous territory with her two greatest foes.
“We could dump her in the river,” Latimus said, “the same way Arderin was dumped there.”
Sathan gave him a stern look. Turning his head, he said to Miranda, “We’ll escort you to the meeting point safely. There’s no need for the extra escort but I will allow it so you feel safe.”
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling like an impertinent child. This large, hulking Vampyre, whom she should hate with all her heart, was now promising to get her home safely. Conflicting emotions warred inside her.
Was he truly a cold-hearted murderer? Or was he just a boy whose parents had been slaughtered, by her grandfather no less, who’d been forced to take over a kingdom? Perhaps he really had done his best under less than ideal circumstances. Abducting women and children in the raids had been banned; only the bare number of soldiers were captured when needed. He was doing his best to survive. They all were.
The Slayers were not p
erfect. The suicide decree was ludicrous, regardless of what Miranda had said to him as they’d sat on the plushy grass. She knew it and so did Kenden. And what if Sathan had reached out to her father? Anger surfaced at the prospect that this was true and her father had lied to her. If this was at all factual, their relationship would truly be put to the test.
Rage had filled her heart for so long. Would it be possible to fill it with something different?
Her thumb scrolled through her remaining texts and she gasped as she finished the last ones.
Ken: The Deamons have attacked Restia. Attack was strange. 100 Deamons but no weapons. They came armed but somehow the weapons seemed to vanish in their hands as they breached the gate. Think I’m going crazy. All 100 are dead but here cleaning up. Won’t be at the meetup but 6 soldiers will be and I sent Kalil in my place. You’re welcome.
Fucking Ken. The last person she wanted to see right now was Kalil, especially after she had sucked face with the Vampyre king last night. Kalil was extremely traditional and aligned with her father on all things Vampyre. Great. She made a mental note to strangle her cousin when she got home.
“What’s wrong, Miranda?” Sathan asked, his voice laced with worry.
“The fucking Deamons attacked Restia earlier this evening.”
“Restia?” Latimus asked. “Why in the hell would they do that?”
“I don’t know.” But she had a pretty good idea who would.
“Do you need help?” Sathan asked.
She laughed and ran a hand through her dark hair. “Um, no. My father would think I’d had a lobotomy if I told him I was bringing the Vampyres to help. We’re not there yet. Let me work on him. I told you, it’s not going to be easy.”
Shooting her an exasperated look, he turned back around in the front seat. Thirty minutes later they arrived at the juncture of the Wall of Astaria and the River Thayne.
Miranda jumped out of the Hummer, grabbing her pack and throwing it on her back. She addressed the soldiers that exited from the escort vehicles and thanked them for helping her. “I’m safe, guys. The Vampyres treated me very well. Let me grab the Blade from the trunk and we’ll be on our way.”