"Oh, you did. I just never knew it could be like that."
His face grew serious and she knew right away where his mind had gone. A hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her to him. He scooted closer, taking her in his arms. From shoulders to toes their bodies pressed together, his hard to her soft.
"Alex," he murmured, tucking her head to his chest. "It will only ever be like that with me."
She quivered. His words were not an empty promise, but a fierce conviction. A vow she knew he would never let go of. Alexia closed her eyes.
"I wish I could take it back," she whispered.
"Take what back?"
"Your memories of that night. Only one of us should have to live with that."
Hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her up to meet his gaze. "I'm glad I know. Not only does it help me understand you, it will make it all the more gratifying when I kill him."
The thought of him fighting an olden as evil and wicked as Lotharus was almost too much to physically bear. Alexia swallowed down the fear and focused on the second emotion coursing through her.
"Tell me again, how can you know what he did?"
Declan closed his eyes. "What I told you that night in the dungeon was true. I saw it."
Before she could speak to refute his claim, he ran his fingers through the soft hair framing her face and hushed her with his words. "I have been dreaming of you, Alexia. Every night, no, every time I close my eyes," he answered, gliding a hand through the silken yellow strands. "But these aren't like regular dreams." He frowned. "They are more like--"
"Memories," she finished for him.
He opened his mouth to reply, but didn't get out the words before she spoke again.
"I've dreamt of you, too."
Declan's heart stilled, gripped with sudden fear. He could only imagine what horrible truths she'd seen buried somewhere in his past. "You have?"
"Yes. Just now and before in the dungeon." She nodded, a confused look on her face. "But, it couldn't have been real. I mean, I didn't think it was until you..."
A flush crept across her cheeks and she dipped her chin to her chest. The weight crushing his spirit lifted. Smiling, he licked his lips. The honeyed flavor of her lingered on his mouth and his cock twitched at the taste. Forcing back his need, he tilted her head up, compelling her to look at him.
"What did you see in your dream?"
Every inch of her skin, from cleavage to chin, flushed an enticing pink and he knew the answer. Instantly, he was besieged with incredible desire for the woman lying beside him. The woman he could still taste on his tongue. He wondered if that tempting color would rush over her skin and face as he rocked inside her. If that was how she would look the moment her pleasure peaked and his body had wrung every last drop of pleasure from hers.
"I saw us together."
Oh, Gods. At her admission, his pulse pounded in his ears. Clearing his throat, he focused on speaking, on making sure they were both on the same page and he wasn't completely lost in his lust for her.
"You saw us together, like we are now?" he asked.
She shook her head and another wave of color spread across her cheeks, followed quickly by a frown. "Not like this. But it didn't make sense."
Declan couldn't help but smile. "What didn't make sense?"
"Well, for one, you had a wound." She lifted her hand, running her finger alongside his cheek. "Right here. And I don't see a scar." A shudder moved through him at her simplest touch. Declan laid more of his weight atop her, letting loose a groan at the exquisite feel of her skin on his. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her, warming every inch of her flesh. Their eyes locked, palpable heat building between them.
"And two?" he asked, his voice deep and thick. Bending, he brushed his lips against hers, whisper soft. Hers parted beneath his, her mouth eager and willing. Heady exhilaration hummed through him at the knowledge she was as affected as he by their closeness.
"I was flying," she breathed against his lips. "I had wings, like yours."
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and goose bumps peppered his flesh, even though his body was anything but cold. Declan pulled back. Slowly, her eyes opened, a lazy smile curving her lips. Although he still ached for her, confusion and awe took the place of his desire. He sat upright, dragging the sheet with him. Alexia quickly captured the edge, clutching it to her bare chest self-consciously.
"Declan, what is it?"
"Nothing." He tried to smile through the unease building in his gut. "Are you hungry?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BOISTEROUS VOICES AND music filled the grand hall. Alexia shifted her shoulders, fidgeting under the coarse layers of heavy clothing Declan had given her to wear. Although scratchy and anything but comfortable, she understood right away why the dragons wore such garments. Their enormous lair stood high in the snow-covered mountains. Even in this huge room, filled with bodies and roaring braziers, the temperature felt below freezing. She wasn't used to anything under fifty degrees.
Hunkering down farther into the sweater and skins, Alexia's gaze roamed around the space. Their hall reminded her of the keep of medieval legends and tales of auld. Barbaric even, and nothing like the refined gardens of her mother's chamber. Massive wood tables lined the available floor space. The four large fire pits dug into the floor around them burned bright, and large animals she could not discern rotated on spits atop each one. The hearty smell of stew and baking bread perfumed the air, making her tummy growl.
Antlers, skins of animals they'd hunted and eaten littered the walls and floors of the cavernous room. From what Declan told her, they used every bit of the animals they killed. If the rustic jewelry hanging around their necks, the candelabra of antlers and animal heads mounted on the walls were any indication, she believed him.
A riotous laugh rent the air, followed by a loud bang. Alexia gasped, her gaze darting to a nearby table. A man had obviously drunk too much and fallen off his stool. Alexia tensed, wondering if the bigger man leaning over him was going to punish him. However, he only reached out a hand and helped him to his feet.
She took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. This group was boisterous and lively, warm and full of vibrant life. The complete antithesis of what she was used to. Another shudder racked her. She tugged the skin tighter around her shoulders, ignoring the lingering smell of animal as she sucked in a breath.
Casting another quick glance about the room, she saw that everyone wore heavy sweaters, mostly in earth tones and some in better condition than others. Black combat boots seemed to be the footwear of choice and overall a masculine and gritty feel permeated everything from decor to clothing to personalities. Even the few women she could discern had well-defined muscles, firm bodies--warrior bodies. Such a hard people. She vaguely wondered how hers would compare. Were they just as rough, resilient, hardy and severe? Did they have grand feasts such as this?
At the thoughts swimming through her, a hole of wonder and doubt grew bigger, wider inside her. Her whole life she'd fought for people she did not even know. Yet Declan knew what he fought for, what was at stake.
Again her eyes sought him out. He stood beside a roaring fire pit, his lips pulled back in a relaxed smile. Flames accentuated the golden hue of his skin and dark blue of his eyes. He wore a huge woolen pullover, so white she wondered if the fur came from a polar bear. The massive cuffs rolled up thickly but still hung around his wrists. She briefly wondered if it had once been his father's. Declan had said he was a large man, and if this sweater had fit him, she could only imagine his size.
Dark pants clung to his well-muscled legs. The ends tucked into calf-high combat boots, the laces loosely tied. Strange, but it was odd to see him with clothes on. To not have every inch of his perfect body uncovered and exposed to her gaze.
He reached up, fitting the mug to his lips. She noted he wore a pair of black fingerless gloves. Right away, her eyes caught, transfixed on his hands. So strong and sleek. Even sitting half a hall awa
y from him, she could feel their phantom caress on her skin.
A feeling of contentment laced through the constant pressure and doubts weighing down her chest. Wearing a tiny grin, she looked away just as a dark-haired woman walked past, a youngling by her side. Alexia offered a smile, but the female clutched her child protectively under the wing of her arm, as if shielding her young from a monster.
The smile fell from her face. The woman strode to a group of men. She didn't need to hear their words to know they spoke about her. The hate in their eyes spoke volumes. Alexia swallowed and turned her focus to her lap, feeling a cold stab of reality pierce her heart.
She was the monster.
DECLAN GAZED AT A LEXIA and frowned. She'd been nervous from the first moment they'd stepped inside the hall. He'd sensed it immediately and, although he understood the cause, it surprised him. She was so in command of herself and her soldiers. After all, she had managed to catch him when no one else had.
At the memory a faint smile curved the corner of his lips. It amazed him how they moved from one extreme to the next without him realizing when or how it happened. One minute he hated her. The next, he couldn't stand to be away from her. And, gods, if seeing her sitting in his hall hadn't brought a smile to his lips then nothing would. He'd lived in fear for so many hours the past days, to see her safe, where Lotharus's evil machinations couldn't hurt her warmed his heart.
A shadow passed over his thoughts.
"I had wings, like yours."
Declan tensed his brow at the memory. A nagging suspicion of what that meant crept into his mind.
"You dare bring her here. In our hall. Our home."
All his thoughts faded at Falcon's voice. Declan turned to face him. The flames from a nearby brazier flickered across his face. Ire he wasn't quite certain he deserved lit up his friend's emerald eyes. Declan bit down on his jaw and turned back to the festivities. Rocking back on his heels, he tightened his arms around his chest and brought the tankard of warmed mead to his lips.
The sharp smell of alcohol filled his nose a second before the sweet flavor hit his lips. Their potent home brew rolled hot and smooth down his throat. The urge to slam the entire cup back, to feel its warmth sliding down his gullet, giving him the courage to continue this conversation, was almost too much to bear. He set the cup back to rest on his arm.
"Even you cannot bring yourself to justify it aloud, can you?"
"Falcon, I'm not having this discussion with you."
"This discussion started the moment you stepped through that gateway with her in your arms. Everyone is talking about it, about how their King is a traitor."
"Remember who you're speaking to," Kestrel said, clapping his brother on the shoulder.
Falcon shouldered out of his hold. "That's just it. I don't know who this man is. The Declan I knew hated the vampires who murdered his parents. By flaunting your vampire whore around for all to see, you mock the deaths of those children's fathers," he said, pointing into the crowd. "Your parents."
Gods, was he? "You don't know what you're talking about," he murmured, annoyed by the question in his own voice.
"Don't I? Then explain it to me," Falcon said, throwing his arms to the sides. Declan looked around, thankful no one paid heed to their verbal sparring.
"You can't rationalize it, any of it, and you know why? She killed them."
Defensive anger reared its head, only this time he didn't hold it back. "And how many of her kin have I slaughtered?" he asked. "How many have I butchered like the animals we thought they were?"
Falcon opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again.
"Those animals have wives, young," Declan continued. "They live, like us. Love, like us. Who are we to judge who's worthy of life on this earth? Who deserves to die? When does all of this killing and hate end?"
Falcon blinked, understanding lighting up his eyes. With a loud sigh, he moved to step closer. Declan lifted a hand before turning and walking away, heading for Alexia, finding her chair empty.
ALEXIA REACHED BACK, tugging the woolen hood over her head. Keeping her eyes lowered, she rounded a table and moved toward the massive double doors. Without looking behind her, she stepped through the threshold and started back the way Declan and she had come. She'd gone to him, hearing most of the fight he'd had with Falcon. Guilt tore through her. Instead of being the adhesive holding her home, Declan's home, together, she tore everything apart and she didn't know how to mend any of it. She felt alone, lost in more ways than one.
"Are you lost, vampire?"
Alexia inhaled at the low voice and spun to face whoever had snuck up behind her. She only made it halfway before a large male body pressed hers back against the nearest wall. Alexia slammed into the wall, the hood falling back to her shoulders. A gasp tore from her lips, more from shock than the force, for the man in front of her was huge. At least six foot four and all of it thick, corded muscle that was visible beneath his filthy brown tunic. Tattoos wound around his mountainous biceps, another across the skin beneath the V of his shirt.
A dragon lord. He had to be.
She swallowed and forced her chin up, unwilling to show fear even though it coursed heavy and thick through her limbs. He tilted his head to the side, regarding her. Dark hair fell against his jaw, his lips were thinned tight. A scar split the skin above and beneath one indigo eye. Deep and puckered, its raised white line stood in contrast to his dark complexion.
Alexia's entire body tensed, adrenaline coursed through her veins, telling her to run or fight. And she couldn't help but notice how he seemed completely relaxed, at ease with his tenseness, as if he were used to living life on an adrenaline rush.
"Are you deaf, vampire? Or do you not speak anything other than that heathen tongue of your kind?"
Alexia frowned. She could have sworn he'd said the last sentence in their ancient language, but shook it off.
"No. I'm going back to Declan's room," she said, finally answering his first question.
"Lord Declan's room. Our King." He bared a row of white teeth and leaned closer. He smelled of ale, dark spices and death.
She shuddered. "Yes, that's the one."
The dragon grunted. "I've fought you before, you know. You should be in our dungeon, not our hall. Not our lord's bed." Lips curled back, he smacked a flat palm on the wall beside her. Alexia jumped, and his eyes fell to her chest, then lower. She felt his gaze rake over her appreciatively and she suddenly wondered if the brute harbored some resentment toward Declan for not sharing the spoils of their recent battle.
"Well, your King has found other uses for me."
"Oh, I bet he has," he said, dragging a thumb across his lower lip before stretching his hand toward her.
"Griffon," a low voice stated.
They both turned their heads. Declan stood in the middle of the corridor, mug in hand. His expression was taut, his blue eyes blazing.
"Back off her. Now."
The dragon looked at her once more and Alexia found herself holding her breath. A lazy smile tweaked his lips. Casually, he pushed off the wall and faced Declan.
"I was just saying hello to your new girlfriend," he said, almost brushing his shoulder against Declan's as he pushed by him and back into the hall.
Declan's body lunged as if he meant to go after him and his mouth opened, but whatever words had formed in his mind, he kept them to himself. Alexia saw his jaw flex in the low light, saw the struggle, the weariness on his face. He closed his eyes. Then his long lashes fluttered open, revealing a steel-blue gaze, burning with an anger that made her breath catch.
DECLAN SAW THE LOOK on Alexia's face and knew she'd misread his anger. She thought it was directed at her. So, he closed his eyes again. Counting to ten, he willed control, knowing he had none where she was concerned. He never had. Still, he repeated in his mind that he would not slaughter Griffon tonight. That the hunter had not said or done anything that would permanently destroy any chance the rogue had at remaining part of his fl
ock. He tried to forget how his heart had stuttered to a stop when he'd seen him looming over Alexia.
Fear he had never felt before had flooded his body, numbing his brain. The raw truth kept flashing like a neon sign in his mind. The hunter could have ripped her limbs from her body and gutted her in the seconds it would have taken Declan to reach her.
"Are you all right?"
Her words caught him off guard. He'd thought Alexia would still be frozen by the wall, so when a hand brushed his, he nearly jumped.
"I should be saying that to you."
A weak smile passed her lips. She brought her hands together, rubbing her palms as if cold. "I'm just tired. Can we go?"
Declan frowned, feeling she wasn't telling him everything. But he didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he placed the mug down on a small table beside her and took both her hands in his. They were cold. Her fingers threaded through his, gripping him tight. A low shiver ran down his spine. From the cold or her touch?
Shaking off the thought, he tugged her hand, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder.
"Come on," he said, motioning down the hall.
They didn't speak on the way back to Declan's chamber, but he didn't let go of her hand. It was odd, to walk hand in hand with someone, especially in his mountain home. Declan had been with women before, had even had a serious girlfriend or two. However, he'd thought about none as much as he did about this woman. It seemed his mind was consumed with Alexia. How he could make her happy, make her smile, make her comfortable. The revelation terrified and yet excited him at the same time. Like the first time he jumped free from his mother's arms and took to the sky on his own.
"I'm sorry about leaving before," she said once they'd stepped inside. "It's just that I'm not used to so much excitement."
Her words took Declan by surprise. When they finally registered, he laughed. "Really? But you have a huge horde."
"Of soldiers," she replied, slipping the heavy fur off her shoulders and tossing it across his bed. The gray sweater he'd given her to wear fell almost to her knees.
Shadow of the Vampire Page 16
