by V L Moon
Despite his courage and new found strength, Copi’s heart still yearned for Vischeral’s touch and the verdant taste of his blood. He craved the feel of Vish’s magnificent body and the overwhelming sense of belonging that joined him to the male. Even before being turned and facing his imminent death, Copi had been thoroughly compelled by the towering male and his dark and deadly personality. Vischeral was every bit the vampire portrayed within the pages of a violent horror novel; yet, Copi loved him.
Regardless of Vischeral’s arrogance and steely reserve, no one either mortal or other kind affected him in the same way Vish did. Which was probably the reason behind the fear worming its way into the mix of emotions running through his mind. The closer they came to landing, the more his feelings started to own him. By the time they stepped off of the plane, Copi was practically thrumming with aggression and untold fear.
Hot hands eased over his shoulders. Tobias’s power was not on par with his father’s fierce energy, but it still eased some of the tension running through his veins.
“Let’s go get your man.” Tobias guided him to where Saul sat grinning behind the wheel of a customized Humvee. Arial sat in the passenger seat looking out at the night. The huge truck suited the guard’s muscular build to a tee. Saul’s presence somewhat surprised Copi. He half suspected the burly Russian to use his ability to teleport and wait alongside Roman and Bastian.
“We’re good to go. I’ve taken care of the humans. It won’t take long and we’ll bring your mate back. Get in.” Copi followed Saul’s instructions. Tobias climbed in beside him keeping a close eye on him. The other wolf kept touching him which Copi found both strange and comforting.
“A part of you recognizes the wolf whether you admit it or not. We are tactile creatures. We find comfort in pack, in being part of a whole. We will always be here for you, Copi, never forget that. If there comes a time in the future when you feel at odds, seek us out, we will help you. You’re one of us, or a part of us. My father will never turn you away.”
“Shit, you’re gunna make me tear up in a minute. No one needs to see that shit.” They both laughed at Copi’s reply, but the sentiment had really hit a chord with Copi. It felt good to belong. It was nice to know he had friends.
~*~*~*~
Saul would have liked the picturesque port of Rijeka, if he had come for any other reason than rescuing the mate of a new friend and an old acquaintance of his king. The fresh scent of the sea filled his nose. The bustling streets filled with an array of beautiful buildings and aromas, in some ways, reminded Saul of home. Steeped in heritage, the beautiful city had managed to keep a hold of its history while offering the abundant tourists a shabby chic taste of home, comfort and sun.
While Saul remained unable to ever see another sunrise, he still had his memories of the warmth and vitality found in sharing the birth of a new day. Sadly, with those memories came the agony of loss and the heartbreaking screams of his family as they were slain before him. Even hundreds of years later, the memory of his family’s slaughter chilled him to the bone. No easy feat, considering his vampiric nature.
“Bastian is close. We go on foot from here.”
Saul followed Arial’s command. He was glad to have the celestial along for the hunt. Saul respected the male, regardless of their inability to regularly interact. Life in the enclave had been too busy of late. As loyal as he was to his King, Saul felt a sense of unease stir within him. He’d followed Malachi’s orders to accompany the group of zealous males in order to find and bring back Vischeral Bourne. But, something at the back of his mind screamed for Saul to do an about face and head back to Rome. In all of his years as personal guard to Laziel and his King, Saul had never sought to question any command set by his liege. Until that moment.
“Something’s wrong,” Saul growled, his eyes swept the dark street as they moved. Arial moved up alongside him. The angel’s towering frame stopped him in his tracks.
“Malachi has Laziel, as well as, Jorn and an army of my Nephilim, an entourage of wolves and his own vamps. He is more than equipped to deal with any threat. He will fight to the death to protect Destahny.”
“That’s what I fear. We are his inner circle, his closest allies, his guards and his friends. I fear we have been lured away. Someone was determined to split us up.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Onoskelis, but we need to see this through. Vischeral is one of us. He is Copi’s mate, Roman’s father and a close friend of the king. We haven’t had any leads on him since he was taken. We have little choice but to proceed. And trust me, Laziel will destroy this world before he allows Malachi to be killed.”
The concern etched on Arial’s face heightened Saul’s concern. He warred against the conflict pulling him in two separate ways. He was first and foremost his king’s personal guard, and in his oath to serve, Saul was left with very little option but to follow Malachi’s ruling and carry on in silence.
Staying to the shadows, Arial stopped, scented the air and changed direction. The dark cobbled street forked, Arial took the left, leading them down toward a steep set of steps that curved around the side of a cliff. Bastian stepped out before them blocking their path. In full demonic form, flames danced around the tips of his horns and steam lingered over the surface of his ruddy red flesh.
“No closer, otherwise, Darklon will sense you. He arrived an hour ago reeking of sulphur. In this form, I can approach without being sensed. The ground beneath us has been sealed to thwart any chance of him descending into Hell.”
A few second later, Bastian enveloped Arial in his arms while Tobias lovingly greeted Roman. While the lovers within their group took a moment to feed from each other and offer strength in return, Saul stood beside Copi. The hybrid clearly struggled against the orders to stay where he was. Saul pitied Copi. If it was Kimberly being held prisoner, he wasn’t sure he could wait for clearance.
Copi moved fast, faster than either wolf or vampire. The fury left in his wake rippled the very air where Saul stood. Bastian lunged after him, but was too late. Tobias shifted into wolf form and took off. Roman followed, close on his mate’s heels.
“They’re his blooded family and sired mate. They have no other choice but to see this through. Leave them to the kill. Darklon and his treachery will not be missed.” Arial’s words stilled Bastian.
“As head of Malachi’s guard, I ask that you honor my request and return to Rome. I fear for my king and the feelings are only growing stronger. I promise to follow those males and fight by their sides. You are the only one here who can transfer quickly. You could take Arial and I will bring our little group back on the jet.”
Saul was never one to plead, but his anxiety was multiplying rapidly. It wasn’t just his king, his beloved was also at great risk. Saul couldn’t bear to lose another especially on the day of their mating.
“Your concern is honorable Saul, as is your loyalty. The seal I have placed to stop Darklon will dissipate shortly after daybreak. Be sure you don’t let Darklon escape.” A swirl of scalding heat washed over Saul. Bastian was gone, taking Arial with him. Saul ran. If his heart could have beat, it would have crashed through his chest as he followed his friends into the darkness of Darklon’s domain.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Seventy
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Pacing the length of the gilded and glossed bedroom, Vischeral expanded all of his senses. Something sinister hummed in the air. It called to his dark nature. The monster inside of him yowled a litany for blood and carnage. He wanted to succumb, to give in to the urge to kill and maim, but his loss of control could led to Copi’s exposure. That he could not allow.
The stench of sulphur stung his nose. Vischeral grimaced. Was Darklon playing with his demon friends again? His eyes flicked to the door. The twisted fucker had brought a few into the bedroom trying to scare him into submitting to the bastard’s vile desires. Too bad for him and the demons, Vischeral was not easily intimidated, nor did he care about his own skin. Without C
opi, life didn’t matter. Dying was the only way out of his prison.
A door slammed. Vischeral stopped the back and forth and faced the door. Darklon had returned earlier than expected. Raised voices vibrated through the walls. Darklon’s fury preceded him. The double doors crashed open. Hatred and rage twisted Darklon’s face into a cruel mask. Vischeral braced for an attack. But, Darklon ignored him.
The older vampire took up the pacing Vischeral had just abandoned, but he did not do it as quietly. “Fucking bitch! Useless traitorous Nephilim. I should have known I couldn’t trust the half breed bastards.” A crystal vase passed Vischeral’s right shoulder propelled by Darklon’s mind. It shattered against the wall.
“Defeated, yet again, by that bastard king. What good are demons if they won’t fight?” Darklon yanked at his hair. “How does he get the son of Satan and the son of the Creator on his side? Where’s the balance? What sort of fucking sorcery does he employ? It’s. Not. Fair.” The shriek that emitted from the vampire cracked the mirror above the fireplace. Vischeral refused to cover his ears. He stood stalwart and faced his enemy and captor.
“Even you,” Darklon spat and turned his crazed eyes on Vischeral. “He has your loyalty; yet, I am the one who gave you immortality. He would have let you die. But, he has your favor. I give you everything; I would have made you king and still you refuse me.”
The backhanded slap snapped Vischeral’s head around, but did not affect his stance. He turned back to glare at his Sire. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Rage glittered in his eyes. His steely control kept his lips pressed tightly together. He waited, muscles tense, for the next attack. He was even prepared for the sexual assault and wasn’t shocked when Darklon lunged at him.
Arms and legs locked around Vischeral at the neck and hips. Soft, wet lips pressed against his mouth. Vischeral fought his gag reflex and his instincts to fling the male away from him. He learned more when Darklon was in a frenzy. Once he was sure the bastard was past any form of sanity, he would untangle himself from the macabre embrace. The twisted dance had been his life ever since he’d been snatched from Copi’s arms.
Grunts and moans slipped from the older vampire. A rigid length rubbed against Vischeral’s abdomen. Bile rose in his throat. His fists clenched at his hips. Darklon writhed all over him, lust rising to heat the room. The mutterings stopped as did the flow of any useful information. Vischeral uncurled his fingers. A tingle of awareness danced along his spine. Surprise snapped his eyes open. His blood surged in his veins, hot and thick.
“Oh yes, yes! Finally, my beautiful, Vischeral,” Darklon crooned sensing the changes in Vischeral’s body. Shock froze him to the spot. The lust curling through his body, the awareness awakening in his mind; they weren’t Darklon. Copi was close. Copi was in Croatia, just down the street if Vischeral’s blood could be believed.
How? Why? The swift flow of heated blood cooled. Copi was in Croatia. With Darklon. Fear chased everything away. He’d told his beloved to stay away. He’d begged Laziel to keep his mate safe. Why the fuck was he outside of Darklon’s home? Vischeral opened his mind. The bond with Copi snapped into place. He felt the wolf’s rage, heard the howling cry of victory as they connected. Another presence encroached. Vischeral shoved it aside. He needed to warn Copi away. But, if he did, Darklon would hear.
I’m coming for you.
And, before Vischeral could respond, he felt Copi drawing closer. He sensed others aligned with his male. A rescue attempt was being made. He should have expected it from his cop. Preternatural or not, Copi would always be one of the boys in blue.
Vischeral’s hands fell on Darklon’s hips, and for the first time since his captivity, he pulled the male closer. If he could not stop Copi, he could at least distract his crazed Sire.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Seventy-One
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Rome, Italy
Blackened souls danced through the few pockets of fighters still engaged in combat. They fought to hold on to the scourge of what they once were before dissipating into the bowels of Hell where an eternity of torture eagerly awaited them. Bodies and wings littered the bloody floor beneath Laziel’s feet. Jorn and Lance stood on either side of him, both breathing heavily and covered in the blood of their kill. Jorn’s once white pelt resembled a scarlet rug. The enormous Summus licked his muzzle before turning those all-knowing eyes on Laz.
“Fall back. I want you and Lance with Lachi and Khad.” A bow of the head and the wolf was gone. Lance took a second to assess the few remaining fractions of fighters before leaving the room to follow Jorn. If he’d waited a fraction longer and used the skills Laziel had been teaching him, the half breed would have noticed the shift in atmosphere.
The dense pocket of air wavered slightly, growing in heat before Onoskelis revealed herself. The once shimmering shift of her celestial gown lay in tatters. The grizzly stumps where Laziel had personally removed her once beautiful wings dripped foul black ooze. The glamour Lucifer had supplied her had disappeared. The remaining vampires rushed from the room taking the injured Nephilim with them. They closed and locked the doors locking him in with Onoskelis. Laziel had trained them well. They knew not to interfere.
Onoskelis grinned showing blackened razor sharp teeth. By betraying her celestial heritage, she’d begun to transcend into her new position as a disciple of evil. But then, any mother capable of cursing and deceiving her own son the way she had highly deserved their position at Lucifer’s side.
“You!” Onoskelis spat, the foul smelling tar landed just left of his feet. Laziel smiled and cocked a brow.
“You think you’re so fucking mighty. You’re more immoral than Lucifer has ever been. You flaunt your sinful lustful ways before your bloodsucking sycophants, and your pathetic father still to this day refuses to castigate you for it. You’re depraved, you rule an army that preys on the innocent and takes from the mortal realm without any remorse for the damage they cause. I will strike you down, Seraphim. You’re an abomination; you should have died with the rest of them.” Onoskelis screamed in fury.
Laziel laughed. He laughed so hard he cried. “Really. Is that all you have? Name calling and screeching like a banshee. I suppose Lucy could always hire you out. I hear the last banshee has a severe case of tonsillitis, and you know the Irish. They do love their folklore.” Laziel yawned dramatically and turned to leave.
The scream that followed made plaster fall from the walls and the foundations beneath his feet shake. “Temper, temper she devil, weren’t you ever taught any bloody manners?”
Onoskelis’s fury heated the air as she attacked full force, daggers drawn. Hell’s energy swirled around her filling the space where her celestial soul had once been. With a roll of his eyes and a loud dramatic sigh, Laziel side stepped the oncoming female, turned and struck out hard with his foot. He knocked Onoskelis back into the granite wall. It cracked beneath the force.
“Do not piss me off further, bitch. You’ve already ruined what was supposed to be a wonderful day, and my G-string is really starting to ride up my ass.” Grabbing a handful of matted hair, Laziel cranked back the female’s head and dragged her body into the center of the room.
With an open palm, he lifted Onoskelis, holding her suspended in the air as she spat and spewed her evil diatribe. In some small way, Laziel pitied her, or rather pitied the loss of what she’d once been. But her actions against their Creator and his beloved could not go unpunished. She’d chosen her fate by allying herself with Hell. Laziel couldn’t take the risk of her powers growing under Lucifer’s rule. She would most likely return with Lucifer’s help; that couldn’t be helped. But, he could cauterize her abilities which would stop Lucifer from strengthening her further.
“I’m sorry, Laziel. Please show me mercy. Forgive me for my sins. I ask redemption in the name of our Holy Father. Please forgive me.” Onoskelis sobbed. Black tears dripped to the floor to form murky pools of sticky tar. Her remorse was false. If her pleas for mercy and red
emption were just, her tears would have fallen as shimmering stones of the purest diamonds.
His sorrow at having to strike her down hurt the inner sanctum of his celestial heart. The move was swift. The sword and its aim were sharp and precise as he wielded it in a fast long arc, separating Onoskelis’ head before piercing her heart.
Laziel kneeled before his celestial sister’s remains and blessed her lifeless body. Placing his hand over her prone form, he murmured an age old incantation and watched as her immortal soul faded into the darkest depths of Hell, where she’d chosen to align herself. Laziel bent at the waist and prayed to his Creator for forgiveness. His response came as a cool brush of air against his face. Tears fell as his prayers were heard. He would not be cast out, of that he was sure. His love and compassion for those he loved, for his young and for his enemies were just, as were his actions. So why was his heart suddenly filled with dread?
Laziel didn’t wait; he faded into the ether, his mind echoing with Destahny’s cries. He pushed through the link of their bond. Destahny was safe. Cradled in the arms of the warrior Mirabella and guarded by Jorn, Khadlyn and Lance, but his Azarian was missing. The light of their link was dim and distant. Laziel roared to life, materializing into the chapel he held most sacred, his body wrapped in armor and in his hand, the Spear of Destiny. He met the deadly gaze of his biggest enemy, Lucifer Morningstar, who in return smiled sweetly as he lovingly caressed Lachi’s cheek.
~*~*~*~
