-Blood-Flesh-and-Spirit

by Hyacinth-Scarlet

  Dante shrugged. “I was curious. Your message intrigued me. There hasn’t been a real contact between the ruling families of the bloodkin and the elves in centuries, even if we share a common ancestry. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

  Eli had come here prepared to discuss that, in spite of his general discomfort with the historical blunders of his kind. He had to admit that he secretly thought the elven half-breeds who were the bloodkin’s ancestors had been treated very poorly, and much of the problems between the various species could have been avoided if only Eli’s kind had shown more understanding, a better approach. But elves had always been heavily engrained in tradition, as proven by the fact that Eli’s own father had once sent Kier away to separate the two of them.

  There was no point of saying any of that now. The past didn’t matter, only the present. Eli was the only one who could make sure Kier even had a future. “I looked into your approach toward your father’s new policies. I believe you don’t approve of some of his behavior.”

  “That might well be,” Dante said, “but a difference in opinions doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly decide to go against him in something so serious.”

  Eli gave up on reasoning with the man. “All right. What’s your price?”

  He didn’t have time to play games, and while he and Dante kept dancing around each other, time was running out for Kier.

  Dante’s lips twisted in a small, almost unpleasant smile. “You’re in love with him, with the dark elf. So what are you willing to pay?”

  Eli just remained silent. If he said anything else, it would undoubtedly be used against him, and that was something he needed to avoid at all costs. Dante’s grin widened at that. “Your answer is satisfactory. Come here.”

  What could Eli do? He complied. As he walked toward the bed, his gaze met Dante’s. For a few moments, time seemed to stop. Eli’s natural apprehension melted into something else which he couldn’t quite identify. There was hunger in those black eyes, one Eli had never been the recipient of. He was by no means an innocent from a sexual point of view, but never once had he seen such desire.

  He didn’t know if Dante was using some sort of hypnotizing ability on him, perhaps a glamour of sorts. He suspected bloodkin were, as a whole, capable of such things. But right then and there, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt drawn to the bloodkin like a moth to the flame.

  When he finally reached the bed, he stopped, glancing down at Dante and waiting for further instructions. For whatever reason, Dante’s previous displeasure seemed to have disappeared. “Kneel,” he ordered, his voice filled with gravel.

  Eli dropped to his knees, as if he could no longer hold himself up. He felt like he’d lost all control over his own body. He was wholly under Dante’s thrall, a willing slave to Dante’s power.

  It should have frightened him, but it didn’t. Instead, an odd calm settled over him, as if a voice whispered in his ear that everything would be all right. He’d been so very scared ever since he’d learned what had happened to Kier. He’d tried to ignore that terror, to focus on coming up with a solution, and he’d kept his erratic emotions in check only because he was well aware that he needed to be strong. But now, he suddenly felt like he could let go of it all, that he needn’t fear anything anymore.

  As he sat on the floor, he realized that he was effectively facing Dante’s crotch. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Dante appreciated the attention. The bloodkin’s dick strained against the material of his pants, as if reaching out for Eli. And Dante seemed quite generously endowed indeed, judging by the size of the bulge. Eli’s head started to spin, the musk of male desire getting to him. Moving like in a dream, he reached for the bindings of Dante’s pants, suddenly eager, no, desperate to get to the magnificent cock hidden beneath.

  To his surprise, Dante seemed of a different mind. He reached for Eli’s hands and stopped him before he could complete his selfappointed task. “No,” he said. “I was wrong. Not like this.”

  Eli had no idea what Dante meant. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask the questions bubbling in his throat. In fact, he was so dazed that when Dante pulled him back up, he ended up falling right on top of the bloodkin. By accident, he straddled Dante’s midsection in such a way that his ass ground against Dante’s dick.

  Before he could do anything to use this current situation, Dante rolled them around, pushing Eli back onto the bed. A strange power flowed over him, pinning Eli’s wrists above his head. In all honesty, Eli didn’t think being subdued was necessary since he had no intentions of fighting back. At some point during his conversation with Dante, his bones and his will seemed to have melted. He was lost, and he didn’t want to find himself.

  “I am going to be blunt, Eli Starburst,” Dante whispered in his ear. “I desire you more than anything I remember wanting in my life. But a pretty face won’t make me trust you, so I’m going to have to taste your blood.”

  Eli had always found the entire process of blood drinking distasteful. He’d never been able to fathom how Kier had accepted it for years. He couldn’t have said that the apprehension had magically disappeared, but at the same time, Eli found that he almost looked forward to the bite. The desire burning in Dante’s eyes made Eli want to truly experience what Dante offered.

  It was so incredibly strange. Dante wasn’t asking for permission. He’d explained the reason why they had to go through this process. And yet, he didn’t move, watching Eli with those impossibly black eyes.

  Unable to speak, Eli tilted his head in silent acquiescence. Dante released a slow growl, almost animalistic in nature, and instants later, a feeling unlike anything Eli had ever experienced burst through him. As Dante’s fangs pierced his flesh, Eli was invaded by a pain so sharp it tumbled into pleasure. Arching against Dante, Eli found himself trembling and whimpering, needing to reach out to Dante, but unable to because of the bloodkin’s strong hold on him. The suction against his neck almost seemed directed at his dick, because the damned member throbbed and pulsed, demanding Dante’s touch.

  This time, Dante’s frustrating ability to keep himself in check failed him. He did release his hold on Eli’s neck, perhaps concerned of what effect the blood loss would have on Eli. However, Eli didn’t even get to protest the fading of the mind-numbing rapture as Dante suddenly crushed their mouths together.

  The kiss was violent, almost angry, and so intense it made Eli’s brain short-circuit. He couldn’t focus on anything else except kissing back, moaning as Dante thrust his tongue into Eli’s wet cavern. Already, Eli was almost on the brink of coming, as this simple liplock felt better than some of the sex Eli had experienced, particularly since his separation from Kier.

  That stray thought sent a bucket of ice water over Eli’s passion. Kier…Oh, Mother Earth, he was still in danger, and while Eli was making out with a bloodkin, his friend might very well be fighting for his life.

  Dante must have noticed Eli’s change in attitude as he broke the kiss and pulled away. “All right. We have some important issues to deal with, so we can’t handle this right now. But we will. I promise you, we will.”

  Eli felt strangely bereft when Dante left the bed and got up. “I’m going to help you, Eli,” the bloodkin said. “Since you’ve trusted me with such a private thing, I’m going to trust you. But be prepared. It will be far more complicated than you expected.”

  As he looked at Dante, Eli had the sudden feeling that the situation had already gone way out of hand. From the very moment he’d looked into Dante’s eyes, he’d lost control. The most difficult complication to handle had already appeared, and it was the strange bloodkin prince who had suddenly become the biggest threat to Eli. What did his peculiar vulnerability to Dante mean? Could he withstand it, now of all times? Eli didn’t know, and that scared him.

  * * * *

  The next day Bloodkin were renowned for their ruthlessness and bloodthirsty ways. The royal family was often the most merciless one of all the clans. In fact, Dante’s grandfather had
been assassinated by his uncle, years before Dante’s birth.

  Therefore, one could have said that patricide ran in the family. However, Dante had always been disgusted by the notion, by the mere idea of someone wanting to harm his beloved father. Aran had been everything to him, and from him, Dante had learned the concepts of justice, faith, and fairness, things that went far beyond bloodkin limitations.

  And yet, here he was, on the way to his father’s quarters, with a clear plan to assassinate Aran in mind. He had Marlais Hayden with him, and he was relying on the young human’s obvious appeal to ensnare his father and deceive Aran’s sharp senses. Marlais’s blood contained a potent poison that could kill any bloodkin, and if Aran tried to feed on the human, it would kill him.

  Even as he walked through the corridors of the imperial palace, though, a part of Dante was still screaming in protest. In his heart, he knew he was doing the right thing. In recent years, his father had grown increasingly unstable, and now he was threatening to dissolve the Covenant altogether. Dante couldn’t allow that. For the memory of the father who’d taught him so many things, he couldn’t let this Aran destroy everything his beloved sire had worked so hard for.

  Still, as much as Dante tried to isolate those two sides of Aran from each other, the fact remained that, if everything went as planned, Aran would be dead by the end of the day. The thought honestly made Dante sick to the stomach.

  Perhaps he’d have given up, unable to continue because of the natural affection he still held toward his father. However, he’d met Eli Starburst. He was so very different from the light elf, and in many ways, their priorities were not in the least bit similar. Eli had gone against everything the elves stood for to seek Dante out so that he could save Kier. In the meantime, Dante was attempting to kill the father he loved so much for the good of the people. The contrast seemed staggering.

  And yet, at the very core of their desires stood the same truth. Both of them were doing what they thought was right. Having Eli there, with him, reminded Dante of that.

  Fortunately, both Eli and Vane Bloodmoor—whom Dante had managed to save from his imprisonment—had put up strong glamours that would keep anyone from noticing them. Their presence would likely be essential if they wanted to get out of there in one piece.

  Dante didn’t fool himself. He knew that Aran’s death would likely plunge the bloodkin world into chaos, especially since Dante’s older brother, Gideon, was likely to pursue policies as aggressive as the ones their father was currently focusing on. But Dante hadn’t jumped into this without giving it a lot of thought. He had many other bloodkin rallying behind him, ready to support him in taking over once Aran was dead.

  At last, the four of them reached Aran’s quarters. As it turned out, the moment they entered the room, Dante was faced with a scene that convinced him even more of his father’s instability. Aran was attempting to force his lover, Cole, into killing Kier Darksun. Cole didn’t seem inclined to obey, something which didn’t surprise Dante. Even he knew that Cole Bloodmoor was completely obsessed with Kier.

  Hoping to distract Aran, Dante stepped into the room. “Greetings, Father,” he said. “Am I interrupting something important?”

  His father turned toward him and smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not really, although I taught you better manners than to just burst in like this.”

  “Apologies, Sire,” Dante replied hastily. “I didn’t think it would bother you.”

  Aran chuckled. “It doesn’t. If anything, I should be thankful. Lately, I need to watch my back all the time.”

  The undertone of his words immediately put Dante on alarm. In that moment, he knew that it was highly unlike that his plan would go as he’d hoped. Nevertheless, he didn’t even blink at the comment.

  “That’s why we are here, my lord,” he answered, “so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

  He didn’t know if Aran was convinced, but nevertheless the older bloodkin decided to inquire into the reasons of Dante’s visit. Dante took the offered opportunity and pushed Marlais forward, explaining, “I bring a gift. Since His Majesty did not enjoy my present a fortnight ago, I decided to try again.”

  In recent weeks, he and Aran had fought many times. Dante had attempted to make Aran return to his older perspective, and he’d decided to give him a copy of the Covenant, written by Dante’s own hand. It was a time-consuming task and a labor of love, an attempt to show Aran how much Dante cared. It had been useless. The Imperator had ripped the scroll into pieces and furiously ordered him out of the room.

  Now, however, Aran almost seemed pleased. “Oh, Dante. Always so thoughtful. I wish your brothers were a little more like you.”

  Dante swallowed convulsively, the words like a dagger in his heart. He was a breath away from stopping the plan, from foregoing everything he’d built with such difficulty. But it was too late, and he had no possible explanations why he’d now refuse to give his father his present.

  Directing his attention at Marlais, Aran analyzed him with keen eyes. “He is, indeed, quite a beauty. Have you sampled him?”

  Dante shook his head. “No, Sire. I did scent his blood. I believe you will find him delicious.”

  “Let’s taste him then, shall we?”

  Dante held his breath as his father pulled Marlais toward him, his fangs raking against the human’s throat. He wanted to scream, and he didn’t even know what result he was hoping for. In the end the decision was taken out of his hands.

  “Do you take me for a fool, Dante?” his sire sneered. “I know how treason smells, and I know a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one.”

  From that point on, all facades were dropped. Dante tried to convince his father of his good intentions, but his lies tasted bitter on his own tongue and had no effect on Aran. In fact, he only seemed to make Aran angrier, so much so that in an outburst of temper, Aran retrieved his knife, the Imperial Blade passed on from generation to generation to every bloodkin leader, a weapon that was said to be deadly for any of their kind.

  Furious, Aran threw the knife toward Cole Bloodmoor. Dante didn’t even know how and why he moved. He just had so many regrets, the frustration of his failure, the pain of his inability to reach out to his father, the shame of his attempt to murder Aran. He didn’t want any more bloodshed. He simply wished for what he’d always wanted, peace.

  Eli wanted it as well. Perhaps that was the reason why Dante’s heart had connected with that of the elf. They hadn’t even had the time to explore their strange connection, but Eli had already come to mean a lot to Dante.

  He didn’t know what it meant, and it appeared that he wouldn’t get the chance to find out. Instead of striking Cole, the knife hit Dante, straight in the chest. For a few seconds, Dante was actually shocked. He stared at the blade protruding from his flesh, unable to believe what was happening to him. And then, excruciating pain burst through him, and he crumbled to the floor, drained of strength.

  It seemed obvious that some things about his father hadn’t changed, as instants later, Aran dropped to his side, trying to reach out to him, already calling for medical help. Dante took Aran’s hand and squeezed it tightly, meeting those eyes that were so much like his own. His life was already fading, and no one could help him. But he could still do something. He could prevent Aran from making a horrible mistake that would cost their kind dearly. “Promise me,” he said. “Promise me you won’t break the Covenant and you won’t ever let anyone do so.”

  “I promise,” his father said, sounding dazed and broken.

  There were so many other things Dante would have liked to say, but already his world was starting to dim around the edges. Over his father’s shoulder, he noticed Eli standing there, looking pale and obviously wanting to come forward. He was losing control of the glamour. Dante couldn’t allow it. If Eli drew attention to himself, Aran would undoubtedly hurt him.

  Perhaps Dante had been unable to love Eli like the elf deserved. In his heart, he had wanted to give Eli the a
ffection he’d craved so much. He had seen it, that first time they’d met. He’d tasted it in Eli’s blood. Eli still had so much to live for. Dante had to make sure the elf was safe.

  With that thought in mind, he tried to tell his father what he wanted. “And that…you won’t h–hurt…I want El…”

  All of a sudden, his voice no longer obeyed him, and he couldn’t finish the phrase. Desperate, Dante looked at Eli once again and mouthed, “Go. Live.”

  It was the last thing he managed to do. After that, his world turned into pure darkness, and he fell into an abyss of absolute blackness and regret.

  Was this death? If so, it would be unending torture, forever reliving his failures, not knowing what his choices had triggered, fearing and doubting, thinking about the people he’d left behind, and wishing he’d been able to spend more time with Eli.

  It was so unfair that he had to lose Eli so soon, before they’d even managed to get to know each other. Dante screamed, but he couldn’t even hear himself, the void of death absorbing every sound he might have tried to make.

  And then, the darkness began to fade, and something like a green light engulfed him, a kind warmth that attempted to smooth out Dante’s sorrow and loss. It was the love of Mother Earth, one Dante often felt when he prayed. This time, however, it simply didn’t suffice.

  As much as Dante would have liked to succumb to the peace Mother Earth offered, he couldn’t find it. There was no up or down in this place, and no way to even know if Eli was safe. For all he knew, his father had captured the elf and was hurting him for some sort of misguided vengeance.

  That thought sent a wave of despair through Dante, one so powerful that he clawed back against the force holding him here. At first, he almost thought Mother Earth would keep him trapped, but instead, he sensed the unbreakable chains holding him bound loosening. A golden thread uncoiled toward him from somewhere above him. Dante reached out to it, and all of a sudden, he found himself propelled upward, flying with a speed that made his head spin.