The Vampire Touch 3: A New Dawn

by Sarah J. Stone

  “You are sure?” he asked. She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, her emotions would flow. “Alright. I am going to take you back on my own, and Nicholas will follow with Ariel when they are ready. There is so much going on that it is best we leave now before the carapaces find us.”

  She placed her hand on his.

  “Take me there,” she said, just wanting to be as far away from this place as possible.

  The vortex that had opened wasn't too far from the hospital. It was quick and easy–as easy as waiting for the train. Yvette felt cold and emotionless as Peter pulled the magic around them.

  When they landed in the antechamber, though, it was absolute chaos.

  “What's happening?” Yvette asked, as people rushed past them, almost knocking into her. She shrank against him, confused. Peter spoke quickly in dragon, and then turned pale. “What is it?”

  “We were right, on Earth,” Peter said. “The carapaces weren't returning to the Other. They were killed.”

  “Killed by who?”

  “Dragons,” Peter said. “And they were left as gruesome displays. You don't need to know the details.”

  “Was it your father?” Yvette asked.

  Peter nodded. “I think no lessons today, hmm? I have to find out what's going on. Alexander will be distraught because everything he's worked for is coming undone.”

  “Let me stay with you,” Yvette pleaded. “I don't want to be apart from you. I don't feel safe.”

  He looked torn, but her large eyes conflicted his heart.

  “Alright,” he said. “But, stay close. And if anything happens, you need to get yourself to safety. I will take care of you, I promise.”

  “I know you will,” she said, and he pulled her into the throne room.

  She automatically knew it was so much more than just the carapaces being killed. People were running about the throne room, a line was forming to speak to the king, and people looked distraught.

  She was surprised to see that not everyone in line was a dragon. She recognized the characteristics of wolves, lions, and bears, hoping against hope for help from the king that they had once been against.

  Alexander wouldn't dare sit on the throne with Peter back, and so he was sitting on the steps, going over documents. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, pale and drawn.

  “Alexander,” Peter put his hand out to receive the documents “I can take over, if you need.”

  “You need to address the concerns of the galaxy.” Alexander stood up, grateful for his brother's return “I can do this, but only you can sit there.”

  “Of course,” Peter said. “You've heard what's happened to us?”

  “Yes,” Alexander said, not even looking at Yvette. “Where is Ariel? Please tell me she is safe.”

  “As far as I know,” Peter replied. “She stayed behind with Nicholas to gather some more evidence. Where is Cole?”

  “Cole was mobilizing the guard,” Alexander replied. “He should be back here soon.”

  “I want him under the protection of the guard,” Peter said. “His comings and goings are monitored, protected. And I want the princess here. Her translation may be halting, but she is taught to be precise.”

  “Why are you protecting Cole?” Yvette asked, as they ascended the steps.

  “Because Cole is the youngest heir to the throne. The last hope, you would say. Because he is our last hope, he is protected. The other two have specific duties to perform and specific tasks to be present at. The youngest heir's job is to protect the throne by staying alive.”

  “Oh,” she answered. “Your English is quite good compared to when we started. Enya can help, but you need to believe in yourself.”

  He smiled briefly at her as he took a seat on the throne. She went to move aside, but he took her hand.

  “If you are able, please stand at my side,” he said. “I would like the support.”

  “Of course.” She half leaned against him, watching as the lineup turned toward him.

  Enya's language was growing in leaps and bounds as well. Her dragon was moving slowly because she was trying to learn all the languages of the shifters at once. She was mostly proficient at all of them by now, and Peter conducted his business through her when needed. Yvette knew that he wanted to be sure in his words and careful in his decisions as he listened to the cases. This was the rule of a King who wanted to be fair and just, not a King who was wandering and lost.

  Her eyes flickered to Enya who looked tired, but held strong. She wore a small tiara to indicate that she was a princess. Yvette likened it to what a prom princess would have worn, which made her smile in longing. She hadn't gotten to go to her own prom; she had been too ill. Here was this girl, so like her that had changed her life. Life on Earth seemed so far away.

  Yvette had another thought as she watched Enya. She thought that perhaps she could do that one day. She could be strong like that with dragons at her back.

  There was death everywhere, and it wasn't just the old king who was behind it. Reports of him were everywhere, but it appeared he had agents working for him–Dragon agents who believed his rule was right.

  He was invoking every old revolution that had ever happened. Killing bears, dragons, lions, and wolves along with carapaces. He was after those who had defied him; those who had gone against his kingdom and his rule at one point.

  Yvette could only catch half of it, but what she heard was terrifying.

  “He said that he was not as cruel as those who sat on the throne now.”

  She heard the voice clearly, and her head snapped up. Choosing to speak in English, a wolf shifter who had spent much time on Earth looked to Enya, telling his story.

  “Wait, what did you say?” Yvette said, startling all of them. “Please, repeat that.”

  Peter looked to her, but nodded his head.

  “He said that he was not as cruel as those who sat on the throne now,” the wolf repeated, unsure why he was receiving this order. “Have I said something wrong?”

  “No,” Yvette put her hand to mouth. “I don't. Oh, God.”

  She stepped down from the platform, heading out the nearest door. Tears filled her eyes as she made it into the hallway.

  “Yvette?” Cole had been coming into the throne room and almost ran right into her. “What's the matter?”

  “I think he's helping him,” she babbled. “Oh, God, I think he's helping him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

  “What?” Cole crouched down, alarmed. “What do you know?”

  “Thomas,” she managed, at last. “He said something to me in the hospital, and then the wolf said the same thing. I think Thomas is helping your father.”

  “Do you?” Cole waited for more evidence.

  “I've been thinking of how weird it seems,” she said, “that your father was just ripped from the Other and suddenly doing all these things. You saw how Peter was when he was returned, and I've seen many other cases. It takes a while to wrap your head around things, let alone make coherent actions. Somebody is helping him, or several someone’s. And I'm sure Thomas is involved.”

  “Right,” Cole said. “And Thomas Donizetti is still living in the family home?”

  “He is,” Yvette replied. “I saw him in the hospital. He broke up with me.”

  “Oh, darling, I'm sorry,” he replied.

  “Obviously, it might be for the best,” she managed to shrug.

  “The Donizettis could be all in this together,” Cole rose, already thinking. “Every single one of them had left the kingdom because they were angry.”

  “No,” she cried out. “No, Armand would never. The rest of them would never. They are good people. They brought Thomas into the family because they wanted to help him, to heal him. He was always the difficult one, the problem one. But they didn't judge him. They loved him. I loved him.”

  “Yvette,” Cole met her eye. “Do you swear to me that you knew nothing about this before you were brought here?”

  “Wh
at?” her jaw dropped. “Yes, of course, I knew nothing about this. I never…I wouldn't….”

  “Alright,” Cole said, as the guards approached. He looked startled for a moment, and then he remembered. “Right, last heir and all. Hello, boys.”

  “What's happened?” Peter came out, not caring about the fact that there were hundreds in line waiting for him in the giant throne room. Cole filled him in, and his eyes widened.

  “Yvette, are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I hate to say it, because I loved him. I still love him. But if he's responsible for so much death…oh, my God, he could have killed me, too.”

  “Find Thomas Donizetti,” Peter addressed the guards “And bring him here. He will answer for his crimes.”

  “What will happen to him?” Yvette was afraid to ask.

  “The penalty for crimes like that is death,” Peter said, and she closed her eyes.

  When he had come for her, she never thought her world would be so tangled up in this.

  Chapter 11

  Yvette was lying in bed when she heard a knock on her door. She wasn't asleep; she hadn't been asleep since they said they had started searching for Thomas. It had been two days, and she felt like she was living on nervous energy, pacing and biting her nails.

  For a whole year, she had been by Thomas' side–kissed him, loved him, given herself to him body and soul. She knew that his situation was complicated, and she knew that once she brought him up to date and cleared his mind, he may leave her. It was ironic and heartbreaking. Somewhere, there was a soul mate for Thomas, someone he had spent most of his life with. He didn't talk about it much; nor did he look for her, but Yvette knew she was there.

  She knew that when she started this relationship with Thomas, he was just killing time. She thought that she would be alright with that. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, her heart changed. And she thought that his mind was changing as well.

  How long had he been orchestrating this plot? How long had he betrayed her? Had he known she would be in that shop with Peter? Did he care?

  Was she ever really his at all?

  “Come in,” she called through the door, trying to make her voice sound steady. She was already changed for the night, but whomever was knocking on the door probably needed her urgently.

  It was Peter, which surprised her. He was usually far too busy to come see her personally. If he wanted her, he sent a message and she came to him. The last time she had seen him, he was in the throne room, looking regal and formal.

  Now, he was dressed down. The crown was off his head, and his eyes were lidded. He was tired, that much was clear, as he leaned on the door frame.

  “Well, don't just stand there,” she said, wiping tears away. She hated that she was crying; she hated being weak. “You can come in.”

  “Why are you crying?” he asked, concerned. “Are you in pain?”

  “No,” she managed. “I actually feel good today. Your magic, your technology here, makes me feel better than I ever did on Earth.”

  “Ah,” he replied, sitting at the edge of the bed. “So, it is internal.”

  She smiled at his choice of words. “You could say that, yes.”

  “I am sorry,” he said, “to inform you that they have found Thomas.”

  She took a short gasp, trying not to cry all over again.

  “What will happen now?”

  “They will be bringing him here to answer to me. I know you may think us harsh, but he will have a fair trial.”

  “And your father?” she asked.

  “They can't find him, but that it is, perhaps, no surprise,” Peter said. “He's well hidden, likely planning his next attack on my rule.”

  “I don't think it's an attack on your rule, Peter,” she said, quietly. “I think it's a reinstatement of his. He wants the old ways back. He thinks he's still king.”

  “He is king,” Peter said, softly. “I am being a usurper at the moment.”

  “No one wants him as king. They are terrified of him!”

  “Didn't you learn in all that history that you taught me that terror doesn't matter in a monarchy?” he managed to give her a small smile. “It's not about how terrified the people are. It's about where you were born in the line of succession.”

  “Tyrant kings were overthrown all the time,” she said.

  “Maybe,” his voice was soft. “By stronger men.”

  She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

  “You look exhausted,” she said. “Do you want to lie down with me?”

  He paused and then accepted her invitation. Both of their heads hit the soft pillows, and he closed his eyes.

  “Ah,” he said. “I have been dreaming of returning to the pillow all day.”

  “Aren't you king? Can't you install a pillow on your throne?”

  “I could,” he rolled over to face her. “But what if they decide to paint my portrait at that exact moment? Not the way I want to be remembered.”

  “I'm quite sure you won't be remembered that way,” she replied, a smile on her face. He grasped her hand, looking into her eyes.

  “Yvette, I would not still be here without you,” he said, softly.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, although she knew exactly what he meant.

  “Without you, I would no doubt vanish into the Other again,” he replied. “I have done it once, and I believe I have the strength in me to do it again. It would be simple and easy. When I returned, I had no interest in staying until the moment I met you.”

  “I haven't done anything, Peter,” she said softly. But he was already leaning in, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

  She felt her whole body tingle and her mind go blank. His kiss was like magic; relieving her of any stress. She drew closer to him, losing herself to his touch.

  When he pulled away, both of them were panting. He stroked her hair, and she rolled onto his shoulder, nestling in the crevice that seemed made to fit her.

  “Wow,” she said, and he laughed.

  “Yes, wow indeed,” he replied. “I could abandon my duties and do that all day.”

  “You could, but there seems to be a rather large problem for you to solve first.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And I'm afraid it will always be like that.”

  “I don't mind,” she answered. “It is who you are.”

  She was speaking to his very soul, and he felt his heart tremble. This girl who had known nothing but a simple life seemed to understand all the complex problems he was facing and all the difficulty he had weighing on his shoulders.

  “I don't want you to go,” he said, interrupting their silence.

  “Where am I going?” she asked.

  “Back to Earth. Anywhere. I want you to stay with me.”

  “Forever?” she asked, raising her body to look at him.

  “Sorry,” he shook his head, “if that was shocking. I've had a bit much.”

  Suddenly, it clicked in her brain.

  “Are you drunk?” she asked, grinning. “You sappy sod, coming in here and cuddling with me because you've had some wine.”

  He grinned, the seriousness of the moment gone.

  “Maybe. Am I not entitled?”

  “Of course you are entitled,” she teased him. “You're the king. In high school, all the boys wanted to cuddle after a few drinks too.”

  “I assure you, I can hold my liquor,” he said as she grabbed his hands. They were half wrestling, half cuddling, and she had no objections. His lean hips swiveled, and she straddled him, pushing her hands down onto his chest. “It's just been awhile since I indulged.”

  “Ha,” she leaned into his face. “I'm going to tell your brothers you are a lightweight.”

  “Don't. I'll never hear the end of it.”

  “How are you going to stop me?” she said, and that was when he kissed her again.

  This kiss was different from the first one. Strong and passionate, ther
e was no mistaking the meaning of this one. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth, and she knew what was coming.

  She could feel that he wanted her–feel that he had every intention of taking her.

  And she had no intention of stopping him.

  “Yvette,” he said, when he pulled back. “Is this what you want?”

  “I think it's what I've wanted since I first saw you,” she replied.

  She wanted to lose herself in the moment–the feeling, the passion. After so many weeks of uncertainly, of fear, she just wanted to feel good.

  He had clearly been with multiple women before, as a King would have. He knew all the right places to touch, to caress, and to nip at. She wasn't as experienced as him, but she soon found herself crying out in pleasure, and begging him for more.

  She didn't think of anything else but his flesh–his touch, his kisses.

  When they finally fell back to bed, both of them were lost for breath. Her naked body was cold against his flesh that was always warm. She curled up against him, a smile stuck on her face.

  “Wow,” she said. “That was amazing.”

  “You doubt my ability?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. “Never. I just never had anything like that.”

  “And you have been with a dragon before?”

  “Yes, with Thomas,” she said. Both of them remembered the tediousness of the situation then, and the heaviness of the day returned.

  “Would you like to see him?” Peter asked. “When he is brought here?”

  She had to think about it for a long moment. Once upon a time, the answer would have been yes, unconditionally.

  But now, the answer made her pause.

  “I think so,” she said, at last. “Although, I don't know what I'll be able to say or do. You have to understand, Peter, I did love him. As misguided as that love was.”

  “I know,” Peter replied. “And, I will have that in mind during his trial. But we cannot make exceptions when it comes to crimes of such a serious nature. Aiding my father in the destruction of innocents is something we take seriously.”

  “And if your father chooses to show up? To save him, I mean?” Yvette asked. “What will you do then?”

  “I don't know,” Peter replied. “But if it comes to ridding this planet of him, I will do that.”