"How could you side with her after what she did to you?"
Although she tried to choke him, their skin was slick from the rain and she couldn't get a tight grip. Still, with what hold she had, she held tight. Declan did not want to hurt her, but she wasn't being rational and this wasn't exactly the place to sit her down and have a heart-to-heart.
With a heaving grunt, he pitched her off his back. She landed on her bottom, bouncing and skidding across the gravel. Declan immediately straightened and faced her.
"Tal, remember Mom," he said over the roar of the fight. "I would never betray you, sister. Think!"
Tallon pushed on her shoulders and arms, flipping from her back to her feet in a flash. "Dad saved her from one of the Queen's soldiers. She was never one of them."
Murder in her eyes, she charged him again. This time instead of trying to fight or evade her, Declan dropped to his knees and set his arms to his sides. Tossing the sodden hair out of his eyes, he took deep pulls of wet air and waited for whatever wrath she would unleash upon him. The sign of submission had her halting in her tracks.
"What are you doing? Get up and fight me."
He shook his head and closed his eyes. "No," he said with an exhale. "I won't fight you."
A stinging slap knocked the side of his face. Declan clenched his jaw at the abrupt pain--not so much across his face, but ripping through his heart. He took a deep breath before looking up at her again.
"Fight me, damn you!" she shouted. Rain streamed down her face, but it could not mask her tears. "Why?"
At first, his question caught her off guard. Then renewed anger and hate lit up her violet eyes, making them glow and burn. "You chose her over me."
Declan could have thought of a dozen things to say to her, but only the truth would come. "I care for her, Tallon."
The hurt and shock on her face would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't already been there.
"What did they do to you? You went mad in there!"
"Nothing, Tallon, listen to me...."
A piercing dragon wail vibrated the air around them, cutting off his words. Declan winced at the earsplitting war call and instantly looked up. A flash of lightning ripped through night's veil, illuminating the sky and the massive grayback dragon flying through it.
Hawk.
His eyes followed the dragon's flight over the catacomb shelf and beyond. Near the edge, Alexia stood in close combat with a sword-wielding soldier. Like all of the vampire soldiers, he was twice her size and bearing down hard. She parried his slashing broadsword with a stick before it snapped and she tossed it aside. Her hand went to her hip. However, her gun was gone. Declan saw the look on her face at the moment when the memory dawned on her that her pistol had dropped to the ground.
Defenseless, she dodged out of the way of the soldier's next stabbing blow. Heart thundering, Declan stood and ran toward her. Diving past fights, hurdling over dead bodies, he was only a few feet away from her when an arm shot out of nowhere, striking him across the throat. The force of the hit sent his feet sailing upward. He crashed to the muddy ground, landing flat on his back. Any air he'd managed to regain was knocked free, and pulsing stars peppered his vision. Declan barely looked up in time to see a sword falling toward his chest. He rolled to the side, hearing the blade sink into the soft earth where his body had lain moments ago.
By the time he turned back over, the soldier had raised his sword overhead again. Letting loose a grunt, Declan kicked out his leg, his heel colliding with the soldier's kneecap. It inverted on impact, bowing backward. The vampire howled and fell to the ground. Declan easily pinned him down and twisted his fat head, snapping his neck before turning back to find Alexia.
He noticed her hair first. The radiant veil fluttered in the wind, every golden strand illuminated by the moonlight. With the glittering sea rolling behind her and the starlit sky above, Declan couldn't recall ever seeing anything so serene, so visually arresting, in all his days.
Somehow she'd manage to defeat the soldier. His dead body lay on the ground by her feet. Declan watched as her hand clutched over her midsection. His eyes zeroed in on the wound he'd seen earlier, to the blood seeping between her fingers. Thinking of nothing but getting to her, he stepped forward. A gigantic shadow darkened the sky above her. Declan paused midstep and looked up. Dark fear swallowed him whole at the sight of Hawk circling above her like a bird over its prey.
"Oh, no. Alex!" She looked up at his call, confusion in her black eyes.
Declan watched what seemed like slow motion as Hawk swooped and kicked out his massive claws. She had no time to duck. No time to dodge. Hawk's meaty fists slammed into her.
Alexia fought for balance, her arms windmilling as her feet slipped out from under her.
She's not going to make it.
The moment the thought came, she tumbled over the lip of the cliff, disappearing into the void.
Declan's heart jerked. Without a second thought, he charged toward the cliff in a blind run. His eyes fixed on the space he had seen her last. Alexia! At his heart's scream his legs raced harder. Each fall of his feet pounded against the stone canopy in a frantic tempo of hope, even though his brain was already conscious of the truth his heart flat out refused to accept.
There is no way she could survive that fall.
No way.
Not if he didn't get to her first.
His mind screamed the words his heart didn't want to hear. However, his body was not listening, either. He rocketed toward her, driven by fear and something else he couldn't label. Already his wings had popped free, primed to fly after her. His feet struck the stones mere inches from the edge where he'd seen her fall not seconds before.
With a roar, he leapt over the side, falling into a headfirst dive after her.
Icy jets of wind spliced over his human skin like white-hot razor blades. Immediately his eyes narrowed, adjusting to the constant airstream and inky darkness. At his will, scales coated his body, sealing his skin from the cold, cutting wind. At first he couldn't see anything. But then he saw her. For a heartbeat the flutter of golden hair glowed in the darkness, shining like a far-off star.
And he knew he wasn't going to reach her in time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NO, HE SILENTLY VOWED. Not catching her wasn't an option. Declan shifted, his bones stretching, lengthening. His wings folded tight together between his shoulder blades, streamlining him to go faster, ripping him through the sky.
Rain struck him like a thousand needles, nearly stealing his breath. But he disregarded the pain. He was finally closing the distance. Close enough to see the delicate curves of her unconscious face. Close enough to see the breaking foam of the ocean rising up fast below her.
Grunting, he dipped his long neck against the wind and arched his tail, angling to slide beneath her. He had one chance to grab her before gravity won and the water swallowed them both.
Thrusting his wings hard, he lowered his head and stretched out a clawed hand. The moment something brushed his fingertips, his talons closed tight, sinking into what he thought was her arm. Pulling her to his chest, he wound the other claw around her leather-clad waist and pivoted toward the sky.
Holding her firmly, Declan pounded his wings, hard and fast, vaulting up with all his might. A strangled roar cried out of him with the effort. Cool sprays of turbulent seawater sprinkled his back. For a moment, he thought they wouldn't make it. He saw in his mind's eye his back crashing through the water, felt the water's pressure closing in around them. But only cool night air met his cutting wings as he pulled them higher into the night.
Without slowing, he climbed until the fear of the water subsided.
Although he didn't want to, he looked down at the woman lying limply in his claw. A burning sense of fear and loss sluiced through him. Panicked, he circled a deserted beach, setting her down on the first bank he saw.
After laying her on the sand, Declan faced the wooded area surrounding them, sniffing for th
reats before he shifted back into a defenseless human. Only the smell of nature and the sea filled his nose. However, a remnant of blood, of vampires, hung in the undertones. His eyes scanned the area for the source. Steps of rocks, covered in a carpet of moss, stretched upward along the cliff. Huge trees stood like giants' legs planted between the steps.
This place must be some kind of back entrance into the horde's cavern. But he didn't have time to worry about that now. Shaking off like a dog, he hovered over Alexia. As he shifted, rainwater dripped off him, stinging the various cuts on his flesh. He swiped them away with a flat palm and bent over Alexia.
Laying his ear above her mouth, he held his breath, listening, waiting.
Not breathing.
Panicked, Declan tilted her chin with two fingers, lowered his lips to hers and huffed a breath into her mouth. He repeated the move twice before pumping the heel of his hand against her sternum.
"Alexia, don't you leave me."
Again he blew air into her lungs. This time her lips seemed warmer. At least, that's what he told himself as he continued to try and feed her life.
Feed.
The errant thought snuck up from the back of his mind.
There's another way to save her.
Declan forced the idea back. He didn't want to go there. Couldn't go there. Gritting his teeth, he pumped his hand against her chest again and again. This time when he blew air into her lungs, her back arched and a burst of air escaped with the force of her cough.
With a sigh of relief, he rolled her to her side. Rubbing his palm on her back, he whispered assuring words in her ear as she fought for air. Fierce trembles racked her wet body. Instinctively, she curled in a fetal position, trying to warm herself. After a moment, her eyes slid closed and her breathing slowed.
"Alex?" He grabbed her shoulder and shook her slightly. She didn't wake. The sand beneath her darkened, soaking up the blood seeping from her wounds. Again that cloying sense of panic seized him. If he didn't get her to someplace warm, someplace he could ensure she'd receive any care she needed, she would either bleed or freeze to death.
The thought of returning her to Lotharus's care made him violent. He'd have to take her home. Gods. He stabbed a hand through his hair. That thought didn't fill him with the warm fuzzies, either.
Releasing a breath, he stared down at the very fragile vampire curled up beside him. Three days ago, he would have let her die without a second thought. Now, not only had he just saved her life, he was actually thinking about taking her home and laying her in his bed.
His parents' bed.
The cold, harsh truth of Tallon's words swished through his mind, threatening to swell and crack the wall of resolve he'd felt was so solid and sure before. Had that place gotten to him? Was he a blood traitor?
Shadows moved above, cutting out the moonlight shining down on her in strobelike pulses. Declan frowned and looked up. Winged silhouettes skated across the darkness. Dragons. The entire legion, by the looks of it. Flying in the direction of the lair.
Either Falcon got word to them or they must have seen him leave. Must believe he had the crystal and was headed for safety.
Declan let his gaze fall back to the woman lying defenseless in the sand. His enemy, his obsession. Although everything in him screamed to take her, everything he'd ever been taught ordered him to abandon the vampire. Declan held his forehead in his palm and closed his eyes tight. He didn't have time. He had to act now.
Leave her or take her.
CATIJA PUSHED OPEN the doors of the dungeon and winced. The repulsive odor nearly felled her. Reflexively, she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. Every instinct within her immortal body shouted for her to turn and run. Instead, she stepped inside and secured her torch on the wall sconce beside the doorway. Like skeletal fingers, strips of firelight slowly highlighted the cavernous space. First lighting up the door and tables around her in an orange glow, until the light crept farther, illuminating even the darkest corners of the dungeon.
Each inch that came into view highlighted memories of her last visit down there. Catija blinked rapidly. Images of the dragon King and Queen, covered in grime and blood, passed behind her eyes. Their naked limbs entwined in an embrace so tight and desperate she couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began. As it had that night, her heart constricted. Never had she felt more a monster than she had the eve she'd come down here with Lotharus and seen them together.
Covering her nose with the back of one hand, she lifted her skirts with the other, trying to avoid the various and questionable puddles, even though she was soaked to the marrow from her trip to the catacomb roof. Frantic, she hustled from cell to cell, disappointed to find each one empty. The ring of keys she'd stolen from Lotharus's study clanked in her pocket with each step she took.
Although Lotharus had told her the prisoner had escaped, Catija wanted to be certain he had not lied. The moment the opportunity had arisen, she'd emptied her stomach of the vile contents he'd made her imbibe and followed the driving need to come below and see with her own lucid eyes the truth her confused heart and addled mind didn't want to recognize.
She could not recall at what stage of their little game her onetime lover had begun spiking her feedings with a mind-altering agent. As she had then, Catija saw no other choice but to drink them. First so Lotharus would not suspect her, and second so she might discover why he wanted her to be complacent. At the final reason a solid mass of shame formed in the center of her throat.
She swallowed it down, acknowledging the truth.
Some deep, dark part of her had enjoyed drinking his draughts. Preferred being numb to the cloying guilt and shame she felt when sober. After all, she had brought Lotharus into their lives, made him general of their army, given him free rein over the horde, over her own daughter.
By the Goddess, why had she ever listened to that man? Why had she let her selfish desires and his evil words cloud her judgment and put her horde at risk? Her daughter at risk? Her baby, she thought with a choked sob. Alexia was now Goddess knew where, and all be cause her mother had failed to listen to her.
As Catija scoured the empty dungeon, she knew she'd been a pure and utter fool to think she could atone for what she'd done over her long life. A fool to think by saving the dragon King and Queen, or even their son, she could ever hope to save herself. She'd done too many horrible things, caused too much pain and suffering to ever balance the scales and make it right. Yet it did not mean she had to leave this plane of existence without trying.
Something on the ground flickered in the light bouncing off the wall torch. The object had a familiar shape. Catija squinted, trying to make it out. When she couldn't, she stepped forward. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and a wave of sickness knotted her gut. Bending, she reached down with trembling hands, knowing what it was the instant cool metal touched her fingers.
One of Alexia's daggers.
But why was it on the bloodstained dirt by the wall chains? "Dearest."
Catija gasped at the voice and spun around, clutching the dagger tight behind her back. "Oh, Lotharus. You gave me fright."
He cocked his head, an unsettling smile passing over his handsome face. "I can't imagine why." The heel of his boot clicked against the floor with his slow step forward. He held a torch in his hand. The light flickered against his pale skin, illuminated the protruding bones of his face, making him look almost skeletal.
Like death come to claim her.
"What are you doing down here?"
"I was looking for Alexia."
"But I told you that dragon escaped and took her with him."
"I had to see with my own eyes," she said, gazing around the dismal surroundings with uncertainty. She'd so blindly let Lotharus school Alexia in the ways of the soldier, in warfare. Suddenly, she wondered if she hadn't done so with rash detriment.
"Is something wrong?"
At Lotharus's words, she gasped, looking up. He stood, closer now,
mere feet away, regarding her intently, his eyes seeing more than she wanted him to.
"Lotharus, I--I think," she stammered, curling her fingers tighter around the weapon, feeling its cold indifference penetrate through her to the marrow.
"Yes," he prodded, a brow rising in question like a dark wing over his vacant eyes.
Catija swallowed. "I think we should postpone the wedding until my daughter is safely returned. The people wouldn't understand how I could celebrate, with her...in the hands of such dangerous monsters."
"Of course," he said without hesitation. "I understand completely." He opened his arms for her to walk into them. Fearful he knew she wasn't quite as drugged as she should be, Catija forced herself to smile and comply.
However, this time as his arms wrapped around her they felt like a prison instead of a sanctuary. The lips on her neck sent a quiver of fear rather than lust down her spine.
The dagger seemed to grow heavier in her hand, the metal warming against her flesh. Catija blinked with realization. In that moment, she knew what she had to do. Knew her seemingly endless path across Lotharus's sick game board was at long last coming to an end.
As if she stood outside her own body watching events transpire, she saw her hand rise up to the sky. The dagger's jagged tip pointed downward, hovering over Lotharus's back like a sharp-toothed demon.
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say. "You would have made a great King, Lotharus."
The lips on her skin stilled. His mouth brushed the side of her face, his hot breath warming the skin beneath her ear.
"I still will."
Her upraised arm shook, the bloodstained blade vibrating in the flickering firelight. "What did you say?"
Lotharus leaned back, his body unfolding before hers like a massive snake rising for a strike. Satisfaction lit up his eyes as he caught sight of what must have been shock in hers. He smiled, his fangs hanging long and fearsome. "Checkmate."
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