Shadow of the Vampire

by Meagan Hatfield

  Finally, low, murmured words seeped into his conscious mind.

  "I said, what's the matter, Derkein?" Lotharus asked with a mocking chuckle. "Aren't you going to help her like she helped you?"

  Those words rang crystal clear in his mind. The callous precision and truth of them sent dread and self-loathing rolling along his spine. His utter inability to help her brought him to his knees.

  Lotharus smiled. "That's what I thought."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "ALEX!"

  Declan shouted her name until his throat burned. But she didn't respond or even move. Worry clawed at him, brutal and unforgiving. Stabbing his hands through the bars, he worked on the padlock, trying to get it loose. Frustrated, he shoved against the rails, pulling and yanking on them frantically.

  Lotharus had forced him to watch as he had strung Alexia to the wall and beat her mercilessly. At the memory, blistering rage swelled inside him. Guilt and revulsion followed close behind. As much as he'd wanted to look away, he hadn't. Not only had he not wanted to give Lotharus the satisfaction of seeing him upset, he'd tried to be strong for her. And she had fought with all she had. But feeding and healing Declan had weakened her, and Lotharus was just plain stronger. She hadn't had a chance. And worse, it was all because of him.

  Cradling his skull in his palms, he fought the adrenaline pounding and roaring inside him. Flattening his hands over his temples, he pressed hard, hoping to silence the disconnected thoughts warring within. When that didn't work, he yanked his hands away and let loose a frustrated roar. The sound of something hard and heavy striking the floor by his feet sang in the still dungeon. It took a moment to register that whatever had fallen had come off his body. Puzzled, he looked down.

  The collar.

  Declan gasped and brought his hand to his now bare throat. His mind rolled through the past hours, stop ping just before Lotharus had walked in on him and Alexia...her hands on his neck. His gaze flew to her, unconscious across the chamber. She must have un locked the clasp when Lotharus had entered the room with the soldiers.

  Closing his eyes, Declan channeled his anger, focused it all on firing up the energy stores already thrumming back to life inside him.

  He focused on breathing, each inhalation fanning the flames, stoking the fire building inside him. Feeding the beast he would need to free himself.

  In and out. In and out.

  Anger wouldn't get him out of this box, wouldn't help her. But he knew something that would.

  Skin humming with renewed energy, power coursing through his veins once more, Declan cocked his head and rolled his shoulders, shifting into his dragon self the instant he had the strength. Before the last scale rolled over his flesh, he opened his mouth, spraying a deluge of dragonfire on the bars.

  The iron glowed, first red and then white, before it melted like wax from a candle beneath the white-hot flame. The metal dripped down, pooling in a blackened puddle at his feet.

  Closing his eyes, he bent his head down and ran forward. Declan shouldered through what was left of the bars, feeling only a moment of discomfort as his armored body took the brunt of the impact.

  The minute he stood upright in the center of the dungeon, his eyes sought her out. Part of his brain recognized he should be escaping, using the information she'd almost died giving him to free himself. The other part screamed that he could not in good conscious leave her here. For, no matter their past, their future, here and now he owed her his life. He knew Alexia was no more than a pawn in whatever jacked-up game Lotharus was playing.

  The mighty black dragon released a shuddering groan and stepped toward her.

  Alexia.

  He couldn't vocalize her name while shifted, but it whispered through his thoughts.

  Dipping his head, he nudged her cheek with the side of his muzzle, the tough skin warming at the feel of her silken flesh against it. She didn't wake. Narrowing his eyes, he gazed down at her. Faint sprinkles of moonlight cast shadows across her face, illuminating the sullen eyes, deep black circles and beaten skin. The urge to kill Lotharus very, very slowly flooded him.

  He puffed out a breath. Smoke wafted out of his nostrils, curling around her, hazing his vision. Declan shook his head. Getting angry would do her no good; it would do him no good. He needed to calm down before his rage and hate had the animal inside him lashing out.

  He let out a quivered exhale and again tipped his snout toward her, inhaling deeply. At first, the acrid and bitter smell of the dungeon pricked his sensitive nose. Then he caught a sniff of it--the slightly sweet, decidedly feminine scent of her. A low purr vibrated his throat. He concentrated on that scent, on her. The fire inside his throat burned out and the dragon receded with a resigning groan.

  Human once more, Declan ran a hand over her bent head before cupping her cheeks in his hands and lifting her closed eyes to his.

  "Alexia," he said softly. "Alex, wake up."

  ALEXIA HEARD SOMEONE CALLING her name. But it sounded so far away. A strange cloud enveloped her, preventing her from seeing anything. She groped her way through the smoke.

  "Hello?" she called, feeling a bubble of panic rise in her throat when the haze wouldn't lessen despite all her efforts to swipe it away.

  Spinning in circles, arms jutting out in front of her, she walked in shuffled steps. Then, the next thing she knew, she was falling face-first into a white void. Alexia barely had time to scream before her body jerked and she flattened out. Almost like someone had snapped a harness around her midsection and tightened a bungee cord. Heart still racing, she frowned. Currents of air breezed through her hair and slid past her skin, so she hadn't stopped falling. But she wasn't on the ground, either. Was she flying? She couldn't really be sure, as she had her eyes shut tight. "Alexia."

  A voice called to her again. Sucking in a breath of courage, she opened her eyes. Miles and miles of purple sky peppered with white, cottonball puffy clouds stretched before her. A laugh bubbled to the top of her throat, and a beaming grin crossed her face. Then she caught sight of a huge black dragon flying beside her. Her first instinct was to scream, but then she saw its sparkling blue eyes, its familiar black wing.

  Declan?

  A strange mist around her shimmered, each particle catching light until it shone so brightly it was like looking into the sun. She shrunk back, feeling a great weight slam upon her as the grains turned to sand. Mountains of sand poured on her, pulling her down, closing over her head. No matter how hard she struggled to get free, it piled higher and higher.... "Alex!"

  She gasped for breath. Panting, her eyes wide with shock, she glanced wildly around, waiting for the wall of deathly sand to collapse on top of her again.

  Only warm hands enveloped her face. They forced her head still, her gaze to lock on a face. A face she knew. "Declan?"

  His blue eyes smiled brighter and warmer than his sincere grin. "I thought I'd lost you there for a moment."

  Alexia closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dislodge the random and dizzying thoughts still bombarding it. When she opened her eyes, reality came back into glaring focus. Over his broad shoulder, she saw his cell. Noticed the bars were melted and gone. Remembered she'd used her fingerprint identification to unlock his collar the instant Lotharus had entered the dungeon. She moaned and recalled the brutal beating he'd given her afterward. She felt mortified that Declan had seen her at her weakest.

  "Oh," she said, closing her eyes again, wishing she could forget again.

  "Alex, stay with me."

  His deep voice rang in her ears, commanding and yet concerned. A hand petted her cheek, rubbing lightly. Then a warm forehead met hers. The tip of a nose rubbed against hers, whisper soft.

  When at last she seemed to breathe normally, seemed calm, he let out a sigh. His warm breath melted her lips and feathered against the skin of her neck.

  "You," he said, the word a combination of a scold and a laugh. "Why did you do it?"

  Alexia opened her eyes. "Do what?" Speaking,
actually talking, brought a new kind of pain to her jaw. One she had not felt in Goddess knew how long. Every muscle in her body tensed, riding out the wave of pain.

  "Why didn't you leave when I told you to?" he asked. A warm hand floated across her throbbing flesh, taking away some of the ache. "Why did you try and save me?"

  The answer, the truth, was too much to bare. But she couldn't deny it, couldn't fight it. Not anymore. In fact, she wasn't sure she had any fight left in her at all. Everything seemed too much, too overwhelming. The only thing that made any sense in her crazy world stood in front of her. And that made no sense at all.

  Alexia stared into his eyes, feeling herself spiral into their depths, wanting to lose herself in them forever. She opened her mouth to answer his question, but what felt like an earthquake rocketed through the cavern. The catacomb walls quaked. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling, which crumbled beneath the weight of whatever had landed above.

  Declan threw himself over her, shielding her with his body. Warm and hard, his bare chest brushed against her, his head falling into the crook of her neck and his palm covering the back of her head protectively.

  A roar splintered through the night, vibrating through the air. She felt more than heard Declan's surprised gasp before he leaned off her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

  "Dragons," he breathed.

  She looked from him to the ceiling, frowning when she saw lines of worry marring his handsome brow. She'd expected to see him smiling.

  "What is it?"

  He opened his mouth to answer. However, the cadence of marching footfalls pounding on the ground outside the dungeon door stopped him. Declan flattened himself against the wall beside her just as a mile-long line of soldiers rounded the corner. They held their weapons at the ready and moved so fast they did not even spare a glance inside the chamber or notice him loose, his cell bars melted.

  Chest rising and falling sharply, Declan peered out the door. Once he was certain they were gone, he moved in front of her and began working on her bindings.

  "The soldiers are mobilizing," she said, urgently twisting against her bonds.

  "Yes. And by the sound of it, Kestrel has sent the entire legion to come free me," he said without looking up from this task. "And if I know my sister, she won't let them leave here alive without me."

  "So? That sounds like pretty standard procedure for a rescue mission." Her voice cracked though she tried to steady it. Something about the tone in his, and the haste with which he tried to free her set her on edge.

  As Declan tugged the last knot free, unwinding the rope from her chafed wrists, she took a step forward. "If they succeed, they won't leave here without hunting down the Queen and her heir and killing them both. Not if I don't get to them first."

  Alexia's footing faltered. She couldn't tell if it was from his remark or the weakness in her limbs, but told herself it was the latter. A hand gripped the side of her face, the other her hip, helping to steady her.

  "Of course they wouldn't." Alexia swallowed and tried to suppress the abrupt sense of hurt. "And if they fail?" she asked, glad her years of training took over, hardening her voice.

  His thumb lightly caressed her cheek before it fell away. The cold air that swept across her skin mirrored the emptiness growing inside her.

  "Then we will all die." His answer intensified the hollow void in the pit of her stomach. "Those here are the last of our original line. If they perish, soon it will be as if dragons had never existed."

  Alexia didn't hesitate. "Then you have to go. Now."

  The fingers on her hip bit into her desperately. "I can't leave you here."

  "You can't stay, either."

  As if to further emphasize her point, another booming crash rained down from above. But now gunshots fired in answer. His broad shoulders jumped with each one. He didn't have to tell her his conflicted state of mind, one half telling him to go and the other to stay. She saw the war rage across his face clear as day.

  "Go," she said again, this time giving his arms a push.

  The hand that held her hip ripped free and he backed up a few steps. Alexia nearly whimpered at the loss, at the thought that this would be the last time she'd feel his touch, see him standing in front of her.

  Declan's gaze searched her face.

  More gunfire and screams pierced the air above.

  "Go," she repeated.

  "What about you?"

  "I belong here, fighting for my people. Just as you belong out there fighting for yours."

  "But Lotharus..."

  "Will be nothing after tomorrow when I take the throne." She shook her head, unable to say aloud the truth of what that meant for them. What her becoming Queen made them. "Declan, I..."

  He rushed forward, reaching her in two steps. His lips covered hers hard and fast. Whatever she had planned to say became lost in his kiss. Alexia gasped into his mouth as he swept her literally off her feet and into his powerful arms. Goddess, she sighed, melting into them. His dominance overwhelmed her. With no restraints, no collar keeping his strength in check, she found his sheer power and size intoxicating.

  And she yielded instantly.

  Wrapping a hand around his shoulders, her other palm cupped the back of his head. Warm and desperate, his mouth claimed hers, kissing her with fierce hunger. A minute passed and then another. More shrieks and gunfire blasted above them, but the only thing she could think of was the urgent, plying rhythm of his mouth on hers. After three and then four minutes he pressed her backward, pinning her between him and the wall.

  The warmth of his body seeped into hers, consuming her. A knee wedged between her legs. Like lightning, lust crackled through her. Fire blossomed in her core, igniting the already burning desire eating away at her for this man...her enemy and the one person who knew the whereabouts of the crystal.

  The thought crept in her mind, although she tried to suppress it. Some part of her knew this was goodbye, but she forced that thought back, as well. Forced herself to live in this moment, this instant, knowing the minute he left they would return to being rivals once more. Hunting each other for the one thing both of them needed.

  Large hands framed her face and he pulled away, leaning his forehead on hers. Eyes still closed, her lips tingled, wet and swollen from his kisses.

  "Promise me you'll fight hard. That you won't go down easy, no matter what." Although he wasn't asking, she heard the entreating tone in his voice. It nearly undid her. Even he couldn't lie about their situation, their future. The fact he even stood here now, begging her to stay safe, had her heart twisting in her chest.

  Unable to speak, Alexia nodded. Reaching out, she tightened her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. "I promise," she finally whispered.

  Although it took more will than he thought he owned to pull away, Declan managed to release her. Taking a step back, he held her gaze. He knew he said too much with one look. Knew trying to comfort, plead, say goodbye and apologize in the seconds they had only made him fail miserably at all of them instead of succeed at one. He knew it, he felt it. But he couldn't help it, either.

  He shook his head, unable to believe that those were the thoughts raging through him. Not revenge. Not hate. Not killing the vampires who were slaying his kin above ground. Only thoughts of her.

  Declan spun and walked toward the back of the dungeon. He felt her eyes on him as he shifted tables and pushed debris out of the way, but he didn't turn around until he had one foot inside the crack in the wall. Taking a deep breath, he cast a regretful gaze over his shoulder, knowing the image of her standing alone in the dungeon would forever be burned into his mind.

  "Thank you, Alexia. For everything," he said, before stepping through the gaping hole she'd told him about, not unlike the one through his heart.

  LOTHARUS TURNED THE PAGE of the centuries-old text. Or more accurately, the loosely bound fragments of scrolls that comprised the dark prince's diary. What was left of it, anyway. Lotharus bit down on his jaw as his eyes r
oamed over the lines of text, one of the last entries in the collection. Even though he hated reading of the final days leading up to the Dark War, he studied them carefully. After all, if he wanted to rule, to bring back honor and dignity to the males of his race, he had to know how the dark one had failed.

  Thoughtful of the aged and delicate parchment, Lotharus flipped to the final entry. The one he loathed reading most of all. Unlike the rest of the entries, eloquent in their precision and destruction, this final page seemed penned by a madman. At times Lotharus questioned its very validity. Doubted the possibility these final words had been penned by the same brilliant genius who had begun their race.

  Lotharus released a disgusted snort out of his nose. The disbelieving voice was the weak part inside him speaking. The one who whispered doubts in the back of his mind, asking him, if the dark prince had failed, how could he ever hope to succeed? Reminding him that, while not desirable, the status quo was better than failure, was it not? Had his life not been above and beyond his sire's? Was not his station, reputation and daily life better than ninety-nine percent of his male counterparts'? Hadn't life behind the curtain, holding all the power yet none of the public blame or responsibility, been working for him?

  As he had many times before, Lotharus allowed the cynical voice to run its course. Let his mind slide through the possibilities of the coming days if he chose to abandon his carefully laid plan. And as usual, his conclusion remained the same.

  Lotharus found the mere thought of following Alexia's orders, of seeing her as leader and Queen of this horde, more abhorrent than death. Even the doubtful part of him agreed.

  Pursing his lips, he slammed his hand atop the last page, wanting to crumple it in his palm. However, the sound of his study door opening pulled him back. Lotharus glanced up to see the Queen sweep into the room. Her long black hair and billowing crimson gown trailed behind her as she walked. It did not take someone of his advanced age and intellect to discern the displeasure and anger etched across her beautiful features. Or for him to determine by the healthy glow in her eyes that she had not been drinking the carefully measured concoction he'd given her to keep her sedated.