by Sharon Page
Coaxing her to lift her leg, he clasped it, and buried his cock inside her again. Velvety, creamy, hot, and tight, her cunny embraced him.
He began thrusting into her, trying to penetrate her eyes as his cock plunged into her body. Her gaze held him. Miranda looked at him as no woman had ever done—not as a lover, but as a beloved. It made him thrust deeper—half wanting to erase the precious look, and half wanting to keep it forever, stoke it, savor it.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she moaned for him. They moved together, and he knew with every awkward collision and half-giggle she gave him, that he was her first.
She skimmed her hands over his shoulders and back. The scars there had healed when he’d become a demon. He was thankful his skin was smooth beneath her touch.
He usually teased his lovers, he liked blunt sexual talk, but he was almost afraid to speak as he thrust into Miranda. He felt like a callow youth. Vulnerable even as he was feeling such unbelievable pleasure.
Miranda bewitched him—there was no other explanation for it. She touched her hands to his cheeks and held him with tenderness he had never known. And she arched beneath him, suddenly a slave to another climax. She cried out, the sound ringing on the rafters. Her hips lifted, her nails raked his skin; then her hands flung away, clenched into fists. Her eyes shut, her lips parted in breathless wonder; and at the sight of her pleasure, his orgasm slammed into him, hotter and more dangerous than the fires of hell.
Even coming, he was never totally vulnerable. At least not before this. He surrendered everything to Miranda. His brain flared like Lucifer’s torches, his heart expanded in his chest, and his muscles seemed to turn to liquid.
“Miranda.” Her name came out in a rasp, a whisper, a softly spoken prayer. He almost collapsed on her as his body seemed to dissolve with the pleasure. And beneath him, straining to him as she came once more, she seemed to glow like the sun.
He bent and kissed her, and the magic surged between them and hit his still-climaxing body like a wave of light.
Lukos.
Then he was falling, and he had enough presence of mind to lever off her, so he tumbled to the hay at her side. At once, he flung his arm around Miranda, to hold her to him. But he was thankful that she nestled against him on her side, her face turned away.
He felt as though he had been singed by the sun, smoldering everywhere and struggling to survive. But at the same time, he could feel a renewed magic crackling inside him, something far stronger than he’d known before.
Sparks danced before his eyes when he shut his lids. His entire body hummed and sizzled.
He’d never felt more powerful. But he opened his eyes and saw Miranda’s aura as she lay slumped at his side, beneath the span of his arm. It did not glow as fiercely gold as it had before.
By making love to her, he’d given her his seed and she had given him some of her power in return. It had been what he’d wanted, but it shocked him now. If he kept fucking her, he could take most, if not all of her magic, and become strong—likely strong enough to destroy Lucifer. But what would he do to her?
He’d thought he could take her power without hurting her. Was he wrong? Would draining her kill her?
But if he were not going to find his mate, in days he would be destroyed. On the spring equinox. He did not have long to carry out his vengeance and destroy Lucifer for taking his sister.
“Straw is not entirely comfortable,” Miranda whispered softly, drawing his focus back away from his anger to her. But Lukos saw her teasing smile. “What were you like, when you were mortal? You never spoke of the torture I saw.”
“I don’t want you to know of that.”
“I’ve given you my innocence. I’ve given you…everything I had to give.”
Damnation. And for that, she believed she had the right to delve into the soul he didn’t have. She stroked his cheek. “Tell me.”
“I was apprenticed to Lucifer.” There. No couching in gentle words, no preparation, no qualifications to dim the shock. She wished for the truth and now she had it. She had given her innocence to a beast, a demon, a thing created by the devil.
Her brows drew together, not in horror but in anger. “Apprenticed to the devil? By whom?”
Astonished, he saw she was not angered at him. She was not pulling away. If anything, she looked more deeply into his eyes.
He, a powerful demon, wanted to flinch away from her perceptive gaze. “My father.”
“You mean you were not taken—”
“My father gave me willingly. And he had to convince me to go of my own free will.”
“Why would he do such a thing to you?” Miranda cried, indignant and shocked. “How unspeakably cruel. A parent should protect a child—not give a young man away to Lucifer.” Then she paused. “I did not know Lucifer actually existed.”
“He does. I have lived in his hell.” Lukos touched her cheek as softly as she was touching his. “What you saw must have been my initiation.”
“That torture was an initiation?”
“I was being taken into hell, love.”
“But how did you survive it?”
“I didn’t. My throat was cut and I was raised from the dead to serve the devil.”
He had never once spoken to another person—or demon—of what had happened to him. But he gently drew spirals just above Miranda’s soft, pale breasts. “Have you ever heard of the Scholomance, love?”
He’d assumed she would not have, but to his surprise, she nodded. “It was a story that my aunt told me. I thought it was a legend—something that may or may not be true.”
He had to smile softly at that. “It is true. It still exists today.” Lying with a woman in his embrace while he revealed his past was completely foreign to him. “Who is your aunt?”
“A woman who wished to be a scholar but could not be.”
Lukos wondered. It was not all of the truth, and when he probed her mind he caught a fleeting word. Slayer. “What did she tell you about it?” he asked cautiously.
“That the name came from the School of the Dragon. Lucifer would allow ten mortal men to enter a labyrinth of underground caves that led to his Underworld. They made a pact with the devil to acquire occult knowledge—alchemy, magic spells, and the secrets of nature and animals. She told me they would learn to control the weather—winds, rain, and storms—and that nine men would graduate after…” Her voice broke. “After they had undergone horrific ordeals…Were those worse than what I saw?”
He gave her a grim smile in place of an answer. “I was a tenth apprentice. Did she tell you what that meant?”
Miranda gasped. “She told me that the tenth would be retained by Lucifer as payment and would serve at the devil’s side. You were kept by Satan?”
“Until he imprisoned me.”
Stretched on her back at his side, she was all sinuous curves—a flat plane of belly, rounded hips, and two plump breasts on top, tempting his mouth to suck. Just looking at her made his cock rise again.
But as he bent his head, she stopped him by putting her palm to his chin. “Why?”
“Why lock me into the earth, into rock, keeping me alive but trapped for one thousand years?” He shifted, so he was lying on top of her, bracing his weight on his arms, and she parted her legs so he and his awakening cock could snuggle between.
“Yes, why?” She frowned. “How old are you, Lukos?”
“I was born in 854, so I am close to fifty times your age, my sweet.” He did not see shock. Zayan was two thousand years old, after all—even in that, the bloody Roman general liked to crow that he was superior. Damned Zayan who had been the one to capture his sister and take her to Lucifer.
“Where are you from?” she asked. “Tell me everything about you.”
That stunned him. She sounded so earnest. And she looked at him with complete fascination. As though she cared…“I was born in England, angel. In Wessex, during the reign of Alfred, our king. Alfred became, after he held back the Vikings,
the King of the Angles and Saxons. Alfred had embraced Christianity. In those days, there were many kings—of Mercia, Kent, Sussex, and Wessex. Alfred knew the Danes wanted to destroy him. After plundering the country, they decided to become conquerors instead of raiders. Soon only Wessex still stood with an English king.”
She was watching him, hanging upon his words.
“My father acted as advisor to Alfred. My father was determined to protect our world—our religion, our king, our way of life. He believed that our salvation was not with God, but with Satan. With harnessing the occult magic of the devil. He believed that a man with the intent to do good had the right to dabble in the power of evil.” His father had had no bloody idea. He had never known his father’s intent on sending him to be an apprentice. Control of the ultimate magic? It didn’t matter now. To Miranda, he gave the reason his father had given to him. “I was sent to apprentice so I could save our people.”
She put her hand to her mouth. “How could he do that to his son?”
“Better his than any other man’s. He believed he could control me.”
“But you did not return.” She frowned. “Lucifer did not let you go back to help your people.”
“My father did not realize that the devil does not necessarily do what people want.”
“No.” She spoke very seriously. “I suppose he does not. He is supposed to torture souls.”
“He tortured mine. I went willingly, love, to save my king and my people. I was raised to be a warrior, to fight on the battlefield.” He had first crossed swords with the Vikings at fourteen, when he had thrown himself into the bloody, terrifying fray. He had been almost paralyzed in terror, mortally afraid of pain and death. It had been instinct that had sent his sword swinging to cleave heads. And his survival on the battlefield convinced his father that he was more than just an ordinary warrior. “Entering Lucifer’s Underworld was just another battlefield.”
But it hadn’t been. It was not known as hell for nothing. He had been ready to kill himself many times, and he’d even tried, but because Lucifer had brought him back to life, he couldn’t die. He had been ashamed of the pain and fear and despair that had made him take a blade to his own wrists. After that failed attempt, he vowed that he could pay the price to be an apprentice. But he could not accept that Ara had to pay the price too.
“Ara?” Miranda asked softly. “Who was Ara?”
She had seen into his thoughts once again, even though he had not sent them to her. “My sister.” Lukos kept his voice level and calm as he said her name, though his heart clenched in pain. “Lucifer had her stolen from the mortal world, and he held her prisoner to ensure I did his bidding. If I rebelled or betrayed him, she would die.”
“What did you do to make him imprison you?”
He gave a sad smile. “I tried to destroy him to free Ara.” He leaned back against the straw. “She was like silver, my sister. Like a source of light. She gleamed like an exquisitely crafted sword—tall, slender, with pale blond hair, and fragile white skin. She was the one thing in my world that made me believe God and heaven could actually exist, because she was too perfect to be mortal. I loved her dearly. And from the moment my father sent me to the Scholomance, I held her life in my hands.”
“W-what happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I was imprisoned and I never saw her again.” Anger crackled in his voice. He could not block out the emotion. “She was taken from her home to the Underworld by a demon. I believe that demon was Zayan.”
Miranda took a sharp breath.
“I expect, as I did, he had to serve his master, Lucifer.” But Hades, he hated Zayan for what he had done to Ara so very, very long ago…
Hands caressed his shoulders. Suddenly he became aware that Miranda was stroking him. Then surreptitiously her left hand began to slide down toward his heart.
No, he could not let her see his past. What if she could glimpse too deeply into his heart and see that he wanted her power so he could fight Lucifer?
Grinning wickedly, Lukos drew back—and bent down to her delicate, bare feet.
Miranda couldn’t help but gasp. Lukos’s soft cock, which had been curled up adorably against his thigh, began to straighten again. Before her awed gaze, it thickened and became stiff, slowly rising up as though by magic.
While she stared, impressed, he closed his mouth around her toe. Warmth and wetness and a tickling sensation streaked up from her big toe. “Oh!”
Lukos, the warrior, the vampire who could shift into the form of a wolf, who had endured torture and hell she couldn’t begin to imagine, was delicately kissing her toes. He suckled each one in turn, the gesture sweet and carnal at the same time. Laughter bubbled up. She could not believe she was feeling pleasure while death was waiting for her outside.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
That was a very terrifying question. It could only mean he wanted to take her to the limit of that trust. “How many times have you saved my life?” she whispered. “How could I not?”
“That’s not an answer, angel.” A swift flick of his tongue along the sole of her foot made her squeal. “I won’t let you touch my heart, Miranda. I’m afraid that what you see could hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid….” she began.
But Lukos got to his feet, towering over her, so she couldn’t touch him. “No.”
Miranda stared up at him. His hair, which tumbled to the small of his back in long, untamed waves, was no longer black with its white streak. It was golden blond.
Like the second man who had come to her in her dream in the carriage. But when she blinked, his hair was the rich darkness of the midnight sky once more. Had she just imagined it? “I only wish to help you. To understand—”
“You can’t save me, love. You cannot save the world. I learned that.”
“Not the world—but one person—”
“Would you walk through the slums and lay your hand on the heart of every child who dies and bring it back? What would you bring it back to? Squalor, poverty, and hopelessness.”
“I don’t know. But life is supposed to be a precious gift.” Where there was life, there was hope. But now she wasn’t sure. Miranda hugged herself protectively. “You prey on innocent people,” she shot back. “How dare you judge my power?” She felt a sense of helplessness—everyone condemned her for saving lives. Then she shook off the self-pity. She did a good thing—no one was going to convince her to believe that was not true.
“And if you could resurrect every soul that dies, angel? What would happen then? What would happen to a world where everyone cheats death?”
If no one died, what would happen? Would people live forever, like vampires? Would there be millions of people—poor, starving people, far too many for the world to bear?
She sensed him step behind her. She did not turn to look to him; she was too troubled to do so. What she needed was to think.
His hands settled on her shoulders. He bent to her neck, his breath dancing against the rim of her ear. “It frightens you, doesn’t it? It is terrifying to not know if you are evil or good. And hell to know you are controlled by a magic power—you never control it.”
She nodded. It was true. And he, Lucifer’s apprentice, must understand. Everyone else was afraid of her. But she could talk honestly to Lukos.
“There is something you do need to understand about me, Miranda. I’ve killed, but I’ve never killed for pleasure. I’ve never enjoyed taking a life, and each time I do, I pay for it. I have to feed and I have a curse—one given to me by Lucifer when I became his apprentice. Part of the price. I suffer the pain of my prey. Lucifer never bestows a gift. He creates servants controlled by curses.”
“We are alike, you and I, both cursed with power we don’t want,” he murmured, and his voice cast a spell around her that did not come from his magic but from her heart. “We belong together.” He embraced her as he spoke and let his chin rest in the crook of her neck. She stiffened for a moment, but
he made no move to bite. Lovingly, his lower lip grazed her skin.
For once, she did feel she belonged somewhere. Here—
“Christ Jesus,” he roared behind her, and Miranda found herself thrown to the pile of hay. The dry, prickly grass jabbed her hands and cheek, and she whirled to face Lukos.
Red ropes of mist were winding around his powerful, naked body. He struggled, wrenching his arms and twisting his torso, but the fog was crushing his chest.
On pure instinct, she ran forward. She grabbed at the lines of fog, hoping to pull them away from him.
She touched them and white light exploded from the contact. Sparks shot up to the air. Several landed on the hay and it began to smolder.
An unearthly shriek filled the barn and the fog dropped free of Lukos. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees on the earth floor. The red mist sucked back through the door and vanished. Miranda had to leave Lukos, but she watched him as she stomped, barefoot, on the smoking hay, gritting her teeth against the sting of the heat.
He groaned, grimaced, but straightened. As soon as the fire was out, she went to Lukos’s side. Where the fog had touched him, dark red bands were left. But they were disappearing before her eyes. Healing. She blinked, realizing tears had gathered on her lashes.
Lukos lifted his head, and as his brows rose, she knew he had seen those tears. He lifted her as he stood. “You aren’t hurt?” she whispered.
But he cocked his head. And to her amazement, he laughed. Wryly. Darkly. “You frightened it away, angel. But I sense vampire slayers have arrived.”
12
Slayers
It was madness to go out there.
Miranda pulled on her pelisse with shaky hands. “You don’t know if this will work, do you?” She stepped in front of Lukos so he had to face her—while she’d dressed and questioned him about his plan, he’d avoided meeting her eyes. “I can sense your apprehension.”
Lukos had drawn in the shield of blue light he had created until it had surrounded just the two of them. It now glowed a vivid blue-violet. Miranda sensed it was stronger. But strong enough to keep them safe?
