"Tallon." Falcon's soft voice wrapped around her like she knew his arms wanted to. But theirs was a warrior's society, a hard, fighting order. Weakness of any kind, especially love, was frowned upon, more than ever since the murder of their King and Queen. Her parents...Declan's parents.
A barely audible sob hiccupped in her chest.
"Oh, gods, no." Falcon's fingers squeezed into her flesh with such need it seemed he'd fall over if he let go. It was then that Tallon allowed herself to look into the face she'd known since she was born. A face etched with pain and loss that mirrored her own. Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head, still unable to speak the words aloud. Falcon nodded, silently telling her he didn't want to hear her say them. He lifted a hand, smoothing a strand of hair from her eyes before resting his warm palm on her shoulder.
"Come, we must tell them," he said, nestling her under the crook of his arm.
Tallon wanted to push away from him, wanted to walk into council with her head held high with pride that she and Declan had succeeded in the job they had set out to do. But the warmth of Falcon's body filled a tiny hole in her now empty heart. Made the enormity of it all shrink away for just a brief moment. So instead, she closed her eyes, rested her head against his shoulder and allowed him to guide her.
Their mountaintop lair spilled into a network of tunnels and caverns of every size imaginable. Tallon knew every room by heart. Now Falcon led her through the hub of their inner city. She knew it with her eyes closed. The heat of too many bodies suffocated the normally cool temperature in the caves. Lights flickered behind her closed eyes. The hearty smell of spiced meats filled her nose and the hum of constant voices buzzed in her ears.
Falcon's arms tightened as they turned down the long corridor leading to council headquarters. Once the sights and smells of the inner city faded behind her, Tallon eased from his protective grip and opened her eyes. After the briefest of pauses, Falcon released his hold on her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Falcon said nothing. He didn't have to.
A few more steps brought them to a set of double doors. Guards stationed on either side nodded at their approach and opened the doors. Falcon and Tallon stepped inside the circular chamber. A lone chandelier hung above the table, lighting the ancient meeting room. All of the council members were present and seated. Tallon's breath hitched at the sight. Other than Hawk, Falcon and his older brother, Kestrel, there were no elders left. Young dragons now occupied the table where just months ago, her mother, father and brother used to sit.
This war had been costly and not only to the Blacks. It touched every family in every line without discrimination or remorse.
And now it's taken Declan.
Tallon slammed her eyes shut. The hands holding the satchel shook. The fatigue and fear she'd ignored crashed down, nearly choking her.
A deep voice sounded. "Where is your brother, Tallon?" Kestrel asked.
She lifted her chin, forcing herself to keep it together. "They caged him."
"Damnation," Kestrel breathed, as a collective gasp sounded in the small room.
"Was he wounded?" asked Hawk, the last surviving member of the original colony and oldest council member.
Tallon couldn't find her voice, so she nodded in reply. Someone cursed. Another let out a long sigh. After a moment's pause, Hawk rose, his chair scraping against the stone floor as he stood.
"And the crystal?"
The room fell silent. Eager eyes met hers. Wordlessly, Tallon held up the satchel. Rounding the table, Hawk took the bag from her, ripped it open and searched inside.
"He made me take it and leave. He wouldn't let me stay and fight...." Her stumbled words died when Hawk removed the contents.
A rock. A plain stone sat in the center of his palm.
Wide-eyed, Tallon snatched the bag, searching every nook and crevice before chucking the useless fabric across the room. "Dammit, brother," she shouted, slamming her palms on the table and hunching forward. Grabbing a breath, she blew it out slowly and tried to think. Only one thing came. "He must have it on him, hidden somehow. Somewhere."
"Then we go back and get it." Ash, a young dragon barely out of his shell, jumped to his feet. At his words, Tallon looked up, thinking he had a hard face for one so young. "We are finished if they find it first," Kestrel agreed.
"If they haven't found it already." Hawk released a sigh and smoothed a hand over his bald head before rubbing the tips of his silver goatee in thought.
"Griffon," Tallon said. "What if we sent him in after the Queen?"
Hawk dropped his hand. "The hunter?"
"No way," Falcon interjected, rising up to stand, as well. "We'll not send Griffon. Not until we know what's going on. A lord he may be, but he's too dangerous, too reckless." He set worried eyes on her. "Declan might still be in there. Alive," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes wide as if telling her some silent message her desperate heart didn't already know. However, even the hatchlings of their flock knew the tales of Griffon the hunter--the lone scavenger who lived like a ghost among his kin and killed his enemies with unnatural meticulousness at any cost. Using him wasn't a terrific alternative, but neither was losing her brother.
"What other choice do we have?" she asked. When no one answered, Tallon's gaze whirled around the room, taking in each man's concentrated look. A spark of fear ignited at the plan she saw forming in their eyes. "The horde's numbers, I've seen them," she stammered. "We are too few to fight them." She looked at Ash with his wide, eager eyes, his shaggy brown hair still dangling around his shoulders, unlike the full-grown, pure-bred males, who had hair down their backs. "We're too young to ever hope to win."
"Which is why we need that stone," Hawk said with a growl, hurling the rock across the room. Tallon's shoulders flinched and she lowered her eyes.
"Tal, we have no choice," Falcon said, moving beside her.
"Yes, we do. We trust Declan. He knows what he's doing. He must have a plan...."
"A plan, I wager, that did not include getting captured," Kestrel said, finally pushing up to stand. His gray eyes fixed on her. The long strands of his straight hair, so like his brother Falcon's and yet almost white in color, swayed with each hobbled step he took toward her. "Especially not if he had the crystal on him." He narrowed his wary eyes on Tallon. "You're certain he had it when you two left the catacombs?"
She reached him in two steps. Tipping her head back, Tallon met his gaze, hoping he'd read the truth in hers. "I saw it. I saw the damn thing with my own eyes."
His massive body seemed to relax and the doubt she'd glimpsed in his silver eyes vanished at her answer. "All right," he breathed. "Then we go back and find it. We'll have a small group search the cliffs and forests around the catacombs in case he stowed it somehow." His gaze met Tallon's. "Another small recon group will attempt to see if he yet lives."
At his order, the group moved into action. All except Tallon.
"See if he yet lives," she repeated. "Are you mad? We have to get him out of there!"
Kestrel pointed to the corner where his mate and resident healer stood, her arms littered with scrolls. "Doc says the horde's ritual is taking place in two days. There is no time to wait for Declan or plan an escape. I'm sorry, but retrieving that crystal is more important. Even Declan would agree."
"But..."
"No buts, Tallon," he ordered. "We cannot afford any more needless losses."
"A needless loss?" Tallon bared her fangs. "Is that what my brother is to you now?" Before he could answer, she lunged forward. And before she managed a step, Falcon's thick arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her back to his front.
"Let it go, Tal," he whispered beside her temple. "And you," he snapped to his brother. "Ease off her, would you?"
Tallon wriggled her shoulders, fighting against Falcon's hold. "Put me down." Even though she was angry, she would never bite Kestrel, or the others, for that matter. They knew it, too. Most had served her parents since before
she was born and were used to her mother's fang-baring tantrums, as well.
Declan was the only one who never lost his cool. No matter what, he always stayed calm and levelheaded.
Declan. Her heart pinched in her chest and she finally quit fighting.
"I can't lose everyone, Falcon," she said, sinking back into his chest. Tallon closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of helplessness, allowing herself to relish the feel of his arms around her, if only for a moment. "I knew the minute he told me to leave I'd never see him alive again."
"You don't know that."
But she did. Somewhere in her soul, darkness festered and grew. So much sorrow, so much pain and loss, she couldn't take any more. Wouldn't take any more.
Lips quivering with renewed anger, she pushed out of Falcon's embrace. "That blonde monster," she shouted. Chest heaving, she turned back to Falcon, ignoring the concern in his green eyes.
"She is going to pay for this. They all are."
CHAPTER FOUR
DECLAN WINCED AS SPEARS of pain lanced through his flesh to the bone. The rivers of blood, long caked on his skin, itched like mad. But he didn't have the strength to lift a hand and attempt to ease them.
In what became a slow struggle, Declan opened his eyes. His breath seized to see a swirling gray mist clouded around him. And to see he was standing even though a shift of his shoulders proved he lay on the dungeon floor.
"What the...?"
He slammed his eyes closed. Even though his senses confirmed he still lay on the dungeon floor, he saw that freakish fog around him. Felt himself vertical. Holding his hands in front of him, he cautiously walked forward. His foot touched air and the earth fell out from under him. Wind lapped his flesh as he fell into a void. On instinct, he called upon his dragon form, hoping to shift and fly out of this vortex.
Nothing happened.
Opening his eyes wide, he noticed a small circle of red shining like a beacon at the funnel's bottom. Each passing second brought him closer to the light. Closer to the ground. Declan only had time to shut his eyes in useless but instinctual defense before he hit thick carpet with a thwack.
Carpet?
Head spinning, Declan fanned his fingers through plush red fibers. His brow tightened as he tensed and pushed up to stand, his eyes darting about an empty room. Seeing no one, he closed his eyes and channeled his dragon senses. Again it proved he still lay caged in that cell.
"So, I'm dreaming," he said beneath his breath as he opened his eyes. Even though it was vivid, more crisp and unsettling than any dream he'd ever had. "But of what?"
With guarded steps, he moved through a large chamber. The relentless fog closed in with every step, until even the walls melted into its embrace. When the mist had nearly engulfed him, a set of elaborately carved French doors materialized before him. They opened without a sound and Declan stepped inside.
The mist swelled at his approach and then parted, as if the room itself had taken in a deep breath and blown it away.
Declan swallowed. Hard.
A woman stood before him. A gloriously naked woman.
His eyes drank in the violin curve of her back, sliding lower over the soft swell of her ass. Every inch of her milky-white skin glowed and shimmered in the soft amber light. His palms burned to caress her and spears of heat shot through him, barreling like a rocket to his tightening balls. Then she pivoted and he found himself holding his breath.
At the sight, his heart stuttered and then stopped completely.
It was her. The sexy blonde vamp who fired his lust and fueled his hate.
"Alexia," he whispered. The flavor of her name on his lips bled into the taste of her. Tangy and rich, her phantom essence coated his throat and burst on his tongue, making his mouth water. Never had he tasted anything like her. It had taken all the will he'd owned to pull away from her sweet neck and he would give anything to be there again now.
Breathtakingly beautiful, her wide black eyes, pale skin and lush lips filled his vision. He stepped closer. Though part of him wanted to awaken and end this torture, another wanted to get closer, crawl inside her and never come out. Overcome, he reached for her. However, the hand that lifted and smoothed down her cheek did not belong to him. Declan frowned. His gaze fixed on the fingers closing around her neck, the wide, ruby ring on the index finger and long black claws extending from each tip.
Lotharus.
Even trapped in this hallucinogenic sleep, the countless wounds and cuts on his body ached at the memory of the torture he'd endured at that monster's hands. And now they were all over Alexia. Declan shot his gaze back to her face. The fear in her eyes nearly felled him and set protective rage simmering violently in his veins.
Declan shuddered in his sleep, helpless as the vampire spun her around, forcing her to bend over the rail at the bottom of the bed. Lotharus swiped the curtain of her blond hair over her shoulder, baring the back of her neck to his gaze. One finger trailed over the long line of her nape before his hand bit down atop her neck and he positioned himself behind her.
"No." Declan stepped forward to help her, to stop this, but his feet wouldn't move. It struck him then that he couldn't even turn around. Clenching his jaw and fists tight, he closed his eyes, unable to watch and not opening them until Lotharus roared out his pleasure in one word.
Mine.
Declan jerked awake. As he had realized sometime before the crazy dream began, he still lay on his back on the dungeon floor. Cold sweat covered his body. He flexed his stomach muscles, wincing at the ribbon of slight pain curling around his gut. Wrapping an arm around the ache, he dragged himself to sit up. Resting his back on the wall, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.
Images of the dream flashed through his mind with lucid clarity. It had been so real, vivid, like a memory. Holding his head in his hands, he pushed it back to the far recess of his mind, trying to ignore the most unsettling aspect of it all--the protective rage and palpable anger still quivering through every muscle of his body. A body still ready to leap to her defense and stop that terrible event from ever taking place. To save the little vampire who'd shot him out of the sky and caged him here.
A cross between a chuckle and a grunt bubbled out of him.
Gods, was he already losing his mind in this place?
ALEXIA BRACED HER HANDS on the rocky shower wall and stood beneath a constant stream of water, relishing the warm spray sluicing down her scalp and back. Head down, she watched the water wash away the night's blood and grime, wishing it could wash away the images of that dragon lord's flesh splitting open under Lotharus's whip. Of his golden body arched above her, his blue eyes, dark and smoldering, speaking volumes of what he wanted to do to her.
She tilted her head to the side, wincing when the needles of water pricked her neck.
His bite.
She lifted a hand to her throat, flinching from pain and the memory it provoked. Why hadn't it healed yet? She never went more than a few minutes without self-healing.
Then again, she'd never been bitten before. Was this perhaps normal?
The water automatically shut off when she moved toward the door. Pushing the beveled glass open, she took two granite steps to the main level. Stopping in front of the sink, she tucked her hair in a bun with a comb. After wrapping a towel around her, she pulled out one thin metal razor and laid it on the counter.
A film of haze coated the mirror. Alexia lifted both hands, wiping the flat of her palms on the cool glass until the condensation was gone.
The reflection staring back at her stopped her cold.
Although she couldn't stand to see, she couldn't look away. The woman in the mirror looked desperate, sad and empty. Emotions she always felt, always carried on the inside, showed plain as day on her face.
For a moment, she allowed the truth of those feelings to sweep over her, let them take her to a place where years ago she'd vowed not to go. Self-pity, sorrow, longing--they were all weak and selfishly indulgent emotions. Luxuries a future Que
en could not afford to entertain. At the sound of her mother's voice in her ears, Alexia allowed the wave of emotions to crest, the swell of anger to rise.
Without taking her eyes off her reflection, she lifted the blade to the glass. She slid the razor across the reflection of her face, just below her eyes. Then she lowered her hand, slicing it across her mirrored neck. The hand holding the razor trembled. A small voice whispered through her, wishing she had the guts to do it for real.
Alexia gasped and tossed the metal on the floor. Pinching her eyes tightly shut, she set her hands on the cool stone and hunched over the sink. A burning pit opened behind her stomach even though she tried to breathe it away. She covered the dull ache with her palm, acknowledging the cause.
A shadowy space, always present inside of her, had grown over the years. The crawling darkness wound through her, digging its roots deeper, further into her soul. Although she knew it was wrong, she'd fed the shadow at first. Every act of torture, every soul she'd put in the ground, bred and nurtured it until now it threatened to swallow her, consume her. Worse, she'd begun to have the impression the reasons she'd been fighting all these years were not as black and white as they once had seemed.
By the time she looked back in the mirror, the haze had cleared from the glass. Crisp and clear, her reflection stared back at her. Again she regarded herself, only this time she looked fine, composed, as if a mask covered her features, betraying the emotions truly bubbling up within. She did not look miserable, frightened or desperate, despite the fact she'd felt nothing but a blended cocktail of all these feelings since that night Lotharus...
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