Reaper's Dark Kiss

by Ryssa Edwards

  He caught himself.

  Anger. Again.

  “Why do you seek the contract?” Oracle asked.

  The sudden shift in topic caught Vandar off balance. Rage ramming through his every thought, he managed to say, “It is my right.”

  “And if your right is not honored, young one, you will allow Kraeyl to convince you to make war on your brothers? Again?”

  “I warn you to speak to Lord Vandar with respect,” Kraeyl said. “Or I shall personally see to your removal. You may then show me how well you evade a Furie’s blade.”

  Vandar could see where this was leading. “My apologies for my counselor,” he said to Oracle. “He seeks only to protect what we have fought so hard for these hundreds of years.”

  Oracle’s tone shifted. He sounded almost conciliatory when he said, “See past your anger and fear, Vandar. If you have the mortal SkyLynne, she will not last long. A year. Perhaps two. Then you will drain again until a new A sub D mortal is found. What will you have accomplished?”

  “Draining is a capital crime.” Kraeyl’s temper flared. “How dare you accuse Lord Vandar?”

  “I have seen him do it,” Oracle said in the irritated tones of a teacher speaking to a dense pupil. “Before you lower fangs in preparation to rip out my throat, hear me well, counselor. I have no interest in Marek’s laws.”

  The relentless urge to silence Oracle permanently was frightening because for the first time in centuries, Vandar wasn’t sure he could stop his beast from rising. “Then why are you here?” he asked, ignoring his instinct as best he could.

  “I have told you,” Oracle said. “I seek shelter from the brilliance of the Sun World.” A tired sigh came from him. “I find this refuge a pleasing place to pass the day hours. You may both leave me.”

  It had been so long since Vandar had been dismissed from anyone’s presence, he barely recognized it was happening. It was best to leave now, he knew, before he succumbed to the desire to shred the skin from Oracle’s bones.

  But he made no move toward the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sky wished she’d paid more attention in her emergency first-aid class. And how stupid was that? Julian wasn’t exactly human. But still, Viper was right. Julian looked poisoned somehow. He was moving toward Viper, wobbling and slightly off balance, like a sailor who suddenly found himself on dry land.

  “You’re not looking too good, brother,” Viper said.

  A murderous look crossed Julian’s face. He actually growled. "Not your business.”

  Julian’s eyes were turning red, as if a tide were rising in him. “What’s wrong?” Sky tried to get past Viper. “What is it?”

  Viper pushed her back. He ran his gaze over the heart stone. It was still on Julian’s desk. “Did you cut yourself on the rock?” he asked her.

  “Yeah,” Sky said, keeping rising panic out of her voice. “A little.”

  “And he drank from you.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Julian said, “I’ll get more.”

  Sky looked at Viper, who moved squarely in front of her. “Get more what, brother?”

  “Something’s happening inside me,” Julian said. His face twisted into a grimace. His head dropped. He turned to the wall and fell halfway to his knees, his arms squeezed around his middle. “Viper,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  “Right behind you,” Viper said.

  “Get her out.” A sudden snarl interrupted his words. “The gardens. Away from me.” Then he sprang to his feet and bared his fangs at Sky. “Come to me,” he said. His red eyes blazed at her out of a too-pale face. “I need you.”

  “Julian,” Sky whispered. “Please. What is it? What’s happening to you?”

  Viper took hold of her and half carried, half dragged her out. Just as the slab door slid shut behind them, something smashed into it with terrifying force. Snarls, as loud as a pissed-off lion, came through the stone.

  “Can he come after us?” Sky asked.

  “I don’t think he knows how right now.” Viper pushed Sky in front of him. “Go,” he said. “Your scent’s driving him crazy.”

  “I can’t just leave him.” Sky tried to get past Viper, but he caught her arm in an iron grip.

  Explosive crashing sounds came from Julian’s room.

  “Help him!” Sky screamed at Viper.

  “He wants to drain you. Get moving,” he shouted at her, “or you’ll get him killed.”

  Her mind tumbling in confusion, Sky let Viper quick march her through tunnels of wavering firelight. “What’s wrong with him?” Julian’s guttural snarls echoed through her mind. “Is he dying?”

  “How much did he drink from you?”

  “I don’t know.” Why didn’t she just let him drink from the giver? She’d practically forced him to take her blood. “Did I poison him?”

  “Unknown,” Viper said.

  “You don’t know?” Now Sky was in an all-out panic. “Why did we leave?”

  “I sent Marek to him,” Viper said. “If I’m this close, I can send him a message on the Telepath Family Plan.”

  “You read minds?”

  “No. I’m a sensitive.”

  A high arch lay ahead of them. Sky recognized the purple-violet light of the gardens. Murmuring voices came to her. Numb with anxiety, Sky let Viper lead her inside. She noticed in a distant way the boulders, the gray cobblestone paths twisting through the strangely emerald-green grass. Following Viper to a bench behind a tree, she sat on the very edge. Guests of the hotel, strolling the paths, stared at Viper, the way people would at a convicted serial killer in the mall on Christmas Eve. When he met their gazes they found somewhere else to look.

  “Well?” The garden seemed to pulse in and out around Sky to the rhythm of her pounding heart. “Is he all right?”

  Viper tilted his head as if he were listening. “Unknown,” he said. “Marek is with him.”

  Just sitting and waiting and hoping everything would turn out okay was making Sky insane. She jumped up, ready to charge out of the gardens, but Viper was right there.

  “I can’t let you leave,” he said. “You have to stay away from Julian.”

  She had about as much chance of getting past Viper as she did of smashing through a brick wall. “Tell me what’s happening to him,” she said. “What did you mean about him wanting to drain me?”

  “He can’t help it,” Viper said, as if he were apologizing for Julian.

  “I don’t care about that.” Sky gave Viper an impatient shove, putting all her weight behind it. He barely shifted back half a step. “I just want him to be all right.”

  “Draining carries a death sentence,” Viper said, his voice an urgent whisper. “You want him to be all right? Stay away from him.”

  “That’s what Oracle meant?” Sky struggled to remember every word the hooded figure had said. “What we desire can become a fatal brew. Was that it?”

  Viper said something sharp and harsh sounding in another language. “With that rock, you’re about as fatal as it gets in our world.”

  Suddenly Julian was there, standing beside the tree. He was still too pale. Sky was off the bench and in his arms in a second. Julian held her and asked Viper, “How’d you know about the stone?”

  “I remembered what Harli said. Sky’s an innocent,” Viper told them. “The heart stone can free her from peril. Then Oracle talked about Sky mixing a brew. Vandar won’t want Sky if drinking from her would kill him. It added up to poisoning her blood. You had to feed. I didn’t think Sky would let you drink from a giver.”

  “What did Marek do?” Sky asked.

  “He drank from me.” Julian kissed her forehead and let her go. “Kind of like diluting the poison. He’s stronger than me.”

  “I’m going,” Viper said.

  “You can’t hide from him forever,” Julian said. “Marek knows you’re in Night Crypt. You sent him to me.”

  “I don’t have to rub his face in it, being out in public like this.” />
  The fear in Viper’s voice took Sky by surprise. The cocky bad boy who’d busted down the museum doors was gone. He ran a wary gaze over the Shades wandering the paths, lifting his gaze to include the balconies. His hands hung loose and open, ready to draw a knife, Sky thought. Julian looked as uneasy as his brother. That made her wonder. What was it about Marek that made a contract killer for hire and a bounty-hunting badass nervous?

  She didn’t have to wonder long. Marek came out of a cluster of trees near the edge of the garden and stood well away from Viper, opposite Julian. Even in a gray mock-turtleneck sweater and black wool trousers, Marek’s bulky muscled body was unmistakably lethal. It was in the way he moved.

  The way the two brothers stood facing each other made Sky realize that Viper only looked small next to Julian. The blond assassin was over six feet tall and built tough and lean. His hard face left no doubt. Not only had he killed, he was good at it.

  Sky looked from Julian to Viper to Marek. This was one family reunion that could go bad fast.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  For reasons he didn’t understand, Vandar found himself desperate enough to believe Oracle could help him. In a hushed tone, he asked, “Do you know how to bring an end to this new hunger that lives in me?”

  “My lord,” Kraeyl said, having held his silence, Vandar knew, as long as he could bear. “He is a charlatan. He preys on the hopes of others as carrion peck at the flesh of the dead.”

  “I am little more than dead,” Vandar said. “Let him speak.”

  Amid the stir of heavy robes, Oracle rose to his feet, passed Vandar, and stood beside a blank window. Looking out as though he could see into the murderously brilliant dawn, he said, “You must allow into your heart that which you deem impossible.”

  “You remain true to form,” Kraeyl said. “Useless.”

  “Indeed,” Oracle said. “Leave me now, counselor. Your paucity of relevance rattles my nerves. I am old. I need my peace.”

  “Come.” Vandar drew Kraeyl toward him and opened the door. “Let us withdraw.”

  As soon as they were in the elevator ascending to Vandar’s suite of rooms, Kraeyl’s rant began. “My lord,” he said, “only a fool would grant Oracle shelter.”

  “I’m happy to see you think more of me than you do of him.” Vandar turned to Kraeyl in the small space of the lift. “You do think more of a fool than a charlatan, do you not?”

  Kraeyl ignored this. “He moves past armed assassin guards as easily as water flows through a crack. He will walk in Light Town. He will go among the young, and the gods only know what he’ll say to them.”

  “If they do not hear his tales from him, they will surely hear it from another.” Vandar spoke in quiet tones of reason, the only hope he had of penetrating Kraeyl’s furious ill temper. “Allow him to wander freely. Let it be known in Light Town that any youngling who keeps company with Oracle will be called into my presence for a personal audience.”

  Kraeyl nodded. “This is well thought, my lord. Their fear will ensure a lonely day for Oracle.”

  “In this, my friend,” Vandar said, sensing the ebbing tide of Kraeyl’s anger, “you will heed me. Oracle is to survive his day among us unharmed.”

  With a graceful bow of his head, Kraeyl said, “Forgive me, my lord, if I overstep my bounds. I have nothing but your welfare and that of the Dominion in my heart’s mind.”

  Although Kraeyl gave a deep bow of obedience before he turned and left, it did not escape Vandar’s notice that his command to leave Oracle unharmed had gone unanswered.

  Before he went into his rooms, Vandar paused. Oracle’s words ran through his mind. “You must allow into your heart that which you deem impossible.”

  Before he could think more on it, the doorknob turned under his hand. Maggie’s scent—a blend of musk and desire—came from the other side of the door. He let go. The door swung open on the orange glow of candles. Maggie welcomed him with a shy kiss to the cheek.

  Going past her into the room, Vandar saw the candles had been moved artfully, casting pools of light that hovered uncertainly. He let Maggie lead the way to the leather couch set before a square wooden table. On the table was the drawing she’d made of them together in moonlight. She’d obviously thrown it down when she sensed him at the door.

  “I was sketching,” she said, nervously handing Vandar a glass of crimson wine. “I moved the candles. I wanted to see how the light shifted and made things look different.”

  It was an odd feeling. In centuries, no one had moved anything of Vandar’s. Certainly nothing in his private rooms. It wasn’t, he thought, taking a sip of wine, an unpleasant feeling.

  Maggie must have taken Vandar’s silence for disapproval. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said, reverting to formality in her fear. “I’ll put them back the way they were.”

  Before she could turn away, Vandar caught her wrist and gently—very gently—pulled her to him. “I’ve told you, you’re not to use formalities with me.” He kissed her soft parted lips. “Leave the candles. I like them where they are.”

  The hunger for him that came to Maggie’s eyes stirred Vandar in a way he’d never felt. He was aroused. The goings-on between his legs left no doubt of that. But there was more. Something he’d never felt with any youngling he’d taken to his bed. He wanted Maggie to be his, but not just for a night. Perhaps a season. Perhaps many seasons. He stroked slow fingers through her pink hair. “Do you have things to draw with?”

  “No,” Maggie said, and a wistful look came into her eyes. “There’s this pencil set I saw a long time ago.” She shook her head, as if shaking off a dream. “It’s gone by now.”

  A long time ago, Vandar thought, charmed. He’d read works of literature written in more volumes than the years Maggie had spent on the face of this world.

  “Perhaps we can find another set like it,” he said and looked to her empty hands. They were small, delicate, but her fingers were agile, nimble against his touch. “Where is your wine?”

  She lowered her gaze. “I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that.”

  There. Again. Inside Vandar, something shifted. A strange heat he’d never known blossomed into being. It reminded him of the flowers Maggie had drawn, how they seemed to bow before the naked heaving lovers, as though theirs was an act of love that could shake the stars from the skies. That was how she made him feel, as though his passion for her were a fire that burned without consuming him. What nonsense. “Come.” He took Maggie’s small hand. “I’ll pour you a glass.”

  She stiffened. “You shouldn’t be serving me, my lord.” She stumbled over the last two words. “I mean, I can do it.”

  “I am not the hero you think me to be, little Margaret,” Vandar said, taking her along as he followed the scent of wine to the bottle. “I’m not the gentle lover you’ve drawn. I am a creature outside of time, cheated of the sun. And I have cheated you as well.”

  Maggie gave a light tug. Vandar loosened his hold. His ears, long since grown accustomed to hearing the smallest sounds, heard the sensual slide of Maggie’s shirt over her head, her jeans down her legs, her bare feet stepping free.

  Naked, warm, and yielding—gods, so willing and yielding—Maggie pressed herself into him. “I didn’t draw a hero. I drew the man who made love to me,” she whispered, sliding her arms around Vandar. “Before the risen rite, no one gave a damn about me. But the way it feels when you’re inside me, it’s like you’ll never let me go. Maybe I’m wrong. But let me pretend for a while, okay?”

  Vandar let go of the glass and used his mind to push it through the air to a low table. His mind tried to tell him the willing girl rubbing herself against him was a danger, a far greater danger than Oracle’s presence two floors down.

  Maggie slid down Vandar’s body, pushing his vest aside as she went. Her hard nipples slid against his bare chest, then down his belly. His mind argued that he should push her away, allow no intimacy, simply take her and satisfy himself, as he’d done with
the long line of young vampires before her.

  By the time Maggie got to her knees, and he felt her stroking hands between his legs, Vandar’s beast had risen inside him, and the Lord of the Dominion ceased using his mind altogether.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Three brothers stood before Sky. One assassin, one bounty hunter, and God only knew what Marek’s job description was—King, Licensed to Kill? The air in the gardens had the feel of a bowstring drawn too tight. Sky felt beads of cold sweat on her temples.

  Marek made a half bow and said to Viper, “Welcome, brother. It gladdens me to see your face.”

  A ritual greeting, Sky noted, like what Julian did with Oracle. And a public gesture that would tell his subjects in the garden that the king was taking his brother back into the fold.

  Obviously expecting anything but this, Viper said, “It heartens me to see you’re well, brother.” He gave a half bow.

  Like the politician he was, Marek rolled on smoothly, as if he’d just graciously accepted an apology. To Julian, he said, “You shouldn’t be on your feet. I left you resting.”

  “I had to come find Sky. Make sure she was okay,” Julian said. “I couldn’t remember what I did.” Then he told Marek everything, Oracle and the stone, breaking into the museum, then what happened after he drank from Sky.

  “I was with Viper when he broke into the museum,” Julian said, finishing. “It was my fault. We were in a hurry.”

  Another one of those long moments of quiet between the brothers came. Then Marek said to Viper, “You have my thanks. Julian would be lost to us without his life mate.”

  His face showing nothing, Viper said, “It didn’t seem like a good time to play drain-the-mortal. Not in a sun hotel with the Creed’s king a few rooms away.”

  This time Marek’s bow showed more respect than ritual. “Your show of duty to the Creed truly heartens me, brother.”