The Vampire's Bride a-4

by Gena Showalter

  Layel gasped. Fell to his knees as if struck in the head. Surely not. No. No! Couldn't be. But he found himself reaching out, arm shaking, mouth dry, heart stuttering to a halt.

  Susan stared over at him.

  Logically, he knew it wasn't her, couldn't possibly be her, was only one of the gods playing some cruel trick, but he was struck speechless with his first glimpse of her in two hundred years. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Shoulder-length brown hair, soft and wisping. Eyes the same rich, vibrant color as dewy moss. Skin a lovely cream.

  Her lips curled into a small smile.

  "Oh, gods," he gasped out brokenly. That smile…he'd never thought to see it again, had held it inside his chest, his only warmth some nights.

  She looked away from him, her body turning gracefully, her long white robe dancing at her ankles. She laughed up at…someone? something?…her graceful hand covering her mouth. Layel had prayed for this so often, would have given his soul for it. Now, here she was.

  Susan turned back to him, then, eyes alight with amusement. She motioned him over with a crook of her finger, and he was on his feet before he realized what he'd done. Was stepping toward her, desperate to wrap his arms around her. Desperate to gaze into those adored violet eyes as he held her close.

  Layel stopped abruptly. Susan's eyes were green. Delilah's were violet. Delilah. Water lapped at his feet, cold reality in contrast to the beloved vision.

  Susan motioned him over again, the action a little forced.

  Why are you still standing here? Why aren't you moving toward her?

  "Do you hate me?" he asked her. He'd wanted to ask her so many times. "Do you blame me for what happened?" He didn't expect her to answer, but the words tumbled from him anyway.

  Frowning now, she dropped her arm to her side.

  "I hate myself. I blame myself."

  Her head tilted to the side, as if she understood what he was saying but still didn't know how to reply.

  "You died, our unborn child died, and I was left with nothing but memories and pain. If I had been stronger…if I had protected you better…"

  For the first time, she spoke. "I love you," she said in that soft voice he remembered. "I need you. Come to me."

  His chest ached, hearing the sweet timbre after so long, but not for the reason he'd always assumed it would if he saw and heard Susan again. He ached because, as he continued to study his beloved, he realized the deep sense of possession he'd always felt for her was no longer there.

  He blinked, unsure of his thoughts. Surely they were wrong. Surely he still craved her as much as he always had. But…no. He didn't. His hands didn't itch to tunnel through her hair. His muscles didn't jump at the thought of her touch. His stomach didn't quiver at the thought of claiming her.

  He did love her, that would never fade, but the passion, the need, were gone. Every ounce of his passion belonged to Delilah. His hope for the future—Delilah. His reason for living—Delilah.

  With the shocking revelations, it was as though a weight was lifted from him, a weight that had dragged him down, kept him in the dirt, unable to rise. Not wanting to rise.

  "Please, Layel." She beckoned him with a clipped, almost angry, wave of her hand. "Come to me."

  Layel found himself on his knees once again, tears pouring down his cheeks. Still he knew this was only a trick, but what both saddened and thrilled him was the revelation that even if this had been the real Susan, he would not have gone to her. That would have been a betrayal to Delilah, and he just couldn't force himself to do it. He loved Delilah. Dear gods.

  He had been punishing himself for two hundred years and he didn't want to do it any longer. He wanted freedom from the hate. He wanted to live. Truly live.

  He wanted the Amazon. Now, always.

  He still didn't deserve her. Nothing he did would make him worthy, but he wanted her. He wanted the chance to make her happy. He wanted a chance at forever with her, pampering her all the days of her life.

  "Susan," he groaned. "Susan, forgive me yet again." He was finally going to let her go when he'd vowed to fight for her for eternity. "Forgive me."

  DELILAH HAD WATCHED as Layel moved toward the empty pool, talking to himself, crying again. She'd been unable to budge, brought here by the gods, beings so great they'd been able to plant her feet in place and hold them there. Why had they singled her out? Hadn't she suffered enough?

  "Susan. Susan, forgive me yet again. Forgive me."

  There was so much pain and suffering in Layel's voice, tears burned in Delilah's eyes. She saw him, saw the sheer torture on his face. I need to comfort him—if he'll let me. But she tried to move and only managed to fall to her knees, scraping her skin.

  "Why did you show me this?" she whispered brokenly. "Why?" For weeks she'd given the vampire the space he'd said he wanted. And she'd been miserable, missing him, craving him.

  He had missed her, too. She knew it. He'd watched her. Every day, he had watched her, and sometimes he'd even followed her. Hope had renewed inside her, and this morning she'd decided to try yet again. She was a warrior. She shouldn't have given up so easily, anyway. Before she could find him on her own, however, she'd been whisked here.

  He isn't the man for you, a quiet voice whispered. He loves another.

  She stiffened. One of the gods, definitely. The voice had belonged to a female, soft and lilting, one she'd heard before a few of the challenges. "No. I don't believe that."

  Even seeing him, you refuse to believe? was the confused response. Even hearing him?

  Even then. She'd come to know him, his stubbornness. He was holding on to the past, not because he still desired his mate, but because he felt responsible for what had happened to her. "He needs me."

  There was a crackling pause. Why do you still want him?

  "I love him." And she did. He was a part of her. He was a man of devotion and passion, darkness and light. He was loyal and strong, a warrior to his core. He was the other half of her, the piece she'd always been searching for.

  Your sister has failed me, time and time again. That leaves you, and I will not be kept out of Atlantis because you have fallen in love, Amazon. This time, there had been no confusion in the voice. Only anger. He is distracting you, a distraction neither of us can afford.

  Be kept out of Atlantis? How could such a powerful being be kept from anything she desired? "Yes, he's distracting me from your cruel game, but I don't care. I love him, and I'm not giving him up. Just take us home. Please. We don't deserve this. Whatever's keeping you out of Atlantis, I'll help you find a way in. I swear it."

  A cold laugh. You should care. I will not lose. Which means you cannot lose.

  Lose? Lose what? As far as Delilah knew, only she and the other creatures were participants in the challenges, not the gods themselves. But there was no time to reason it out as she doubled over in pain. Intense heat invaded her, every muscle in her body constricting. She felt as if something were being pulled right out of her, the thing scratching at her organs, her veins. Then, suddenly, she was…free of it. Completely free.

  Her emotions—gone. Her feelings for Layel—gone. She didn't love him, didn't hate him, she simply felt nothing for him. Nothing for anyone. She frowned, waiting for confusion, anger, or even relief to fill her; her obsession with him was over. Still nothing.

  One day you will thank me for this, for I have just assured our victory, the goddess said.

  Something's wrong with me, she thought, but she couldn't find the will to care.

  Layel was still at the pool when her feet were freed, but she didn't walk to him as she'd planned. She simply turned on her heel and ambled away. She was tired. Perhaps it was time for a nap.

  CHAPTER 22

  "YOU HAVE INTERVENED for the last time, Hestia," Poseidon growled as he materialized in the forest, mere inches away from the goddess in question.

  The dark-haired goddess cast him an innocent glance, not the least ashamed of her actions. Or fearful because she'd been
caught. "Me? What have I done?"

  "Cheated, that's what." Ares appeared in a blink. "Again and again. I should strike you down."

  Apollo quickly followed, a blinding light surrounding him. Artemis was beside him a second later, ice to the sun god's heat, seeming to drain his power and diminish the aura around him. Interesting. Poseidon had never noticed that before.

  Hestia gave up the innocent act and glared at them. "Like any of you are blameless. I've watched each of you save your chosen contestants and lash out at their enemies. And don't try to deny that some of you have even offered your players tips. Besides, I grow weary of waiting for the finish line. I want this game over and done, the winner declared."

  Poseidon crossed his arms over his massive chest. He agreed. Evidently the other gods had the same fickle attention span and restless need for constant amusement as he did. The game had begun to lose its appeal, the weeks dragging by. He wanted back inside Atlantis, its citizens his and his alone to enjoy, and he wanted to ensure these gods remained out of it.

  "How about one final challenge?" Artemis said. Her demons had been eliminated, therefore she had lost the competition already. Atlantis would not be hers, yet she hadn't left the island, apparently too curious about the end result. "A winner could be declared today."

  Excitement saturated the forest. Poseidon fairly shook with it. One final challenge…surely he could help a dragon win. Somehow, some way.

  "What shall the challenge entail?" Apollo asked eagerly.

  "And what should we do with the losers?" Hestia added, rubbing her hands together.

  "I have an idea," Poseidon said. They huddled closer to him, each grinning with anticipation.

  LAYEL WAS STILL RAW an hour later, when the gratingly familiar challenge horn sounded. He stiffened in dread but pushed to his feet. Once Susan's image had faded, he'd dressed and begun tracking Delilah's footprints. He'd been hunkered on the ground, following her trail, but her prints had seemed to disappear.

  He needed to find her, talk to her, hold her. He just…needed her. If necessary, he would beg for her forgiveness. He should have fought for her, should not have driven her away. Hopefully it was not too late.

  She'll be at the challenge, he thought, quickening his footsteps, dread shifting to anticipation. I will make her talk to me.

  These past few weeks, he hadn't drunk any blood, hadn't slept, hadn't really eaten. He'd been tortured with thoughts of Delilah and Susan, with need and want and pain and bone-deep suffering. All he'd wanted was Delilah, he realized now, but he'd hidden the need with memories of the past. A curtain, a shadow.

  Finally he'd allowed the light inside. Nothing and no one would do but Delilah.

  I've been such a fool. He'd wasted all of this time. Time he could have spent in Delilah's arms. I'll make it up to her.

  The sky was brightening as he broke through the forest's trees, and his heart was pounding. Everyone was already in place. Delilah was there, too, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Mine. Her back was to him, and that blue hair he so adored hung to her waist in silky waves. He wanted his hands in it, fisting it, jerking her face to his for a kiss. Never again would he deny himself those delectable lips.

  My mate. My love. He needed her to love him, which meant he needed her to give him what she'd offered before: a chance. And once he had her, he was going to get them both the hell off this island and safely back to Atlantis, where they could be together in peace. He'd go wherever she wanted, live in the Amazon camp if necessary.

  His focus stayed on her as he stalked to the beach. She didn't stiffen when he drew near her side, didn't act as if she cared at all.

  Tagart, who stood guard at her other side, was less nonchalant. He hissed at Layel with the feral intensity of a hungry predator.

  Layel paid him no heed. All he cared about was Delilah. "Delilah," he said, savoring her name on his tongue.

  She flicked him a bored glance. "Go away."

  I deserve that. Once, she would have turned to him with longing in her violet eyes. Once, her arms would have opened for him and she would have proudly embraced him. "Delilah, I want you to know I care nothing about the dragon you were with. My past has hardly been perfect. I—"

  "Will leave," Tagart growled. "You aren't wanted here. By any of us."

  Brand strode to the warrior's side and gripped his arm, probably holding him back from a sure fight. A fight Layel would have craved only hours ago, with blood, with death and staggering amounts of his enemy's pain. Today, there was only one thing Layel wished to fight for and it wasn't the death of a dragon.

  He breathed in Delilah's scent, a fragrance of femininity, the essence of pleasure, and savored every drop in his lungs, his mind accepting his adoration without protest. Peace truly was his for the first time in centuries.

  "I need you," he told her, and they were words straight from his soul. "I need you more than I've ever needed another."

  Her gaze finally returned to him, but her eyes were devoid of emotion. Violet yet…blank. Gone was her warmth, her laughter. "I'm sorry, but I'm no longer interested."

  Again, deserved. She'd once asked him to reveal the worst thing he'd ever done. Now he knew. It was causing this, this change in her. She looked colder. Harsh. Hard. He battled despair. "You should never be sorry. Not to me. It is I who owe you a thousand apologies. I know a thousand will not be enough, but however long it takes, whatever I have to do, I am willing. For you, anything."

  "Go away," she said again, just as bored.

  Never. "All I ask is that—"

  There was a screech, high-pitched, infuriated, and then a spear was sailing toward him. Lightning fast it happened, yet he watched as if the world had slowed to a crawl. He heard the whistle of air and managed to reach out and catch the limb just before it penetrated his heart. A second longer, and he would have been dead. As it was, the razor-fine tip managed only to slice his skin.

  There was no time to search out his attacker. No need, either. Nola was shoving him down before he could drop the weapon. He allowed her to pin him, punch him and claw at him. He had vowed never to let anyone hurt him without retaliation. But her, he let. She was avenging her sister.

  Delilah watched, her blank expression never changing.

  A hard right was delivered to his nose, and the cartilage snapped out of place. Nails scored his cheek, drawing blood. Another right, then a left.

  "That's enough. Stop!" Brand had issued the command with enough force to halt the Amazon's fist midair.

  She glanced at him, murder in her eyes. "Don't interfere, or you'll be next."

  Then someone was lifting Nola off Layel, and she was cursing in outrage.

  Zane, he realized. The warrior held the now struggling Nola, and released a roar the likes of which Layel had never heard. "Be still, woman! And be quiet."

  Zane, willingly touching a female?

  "I warned you what would happen if you neared her again!" Brand launched himself at the vampire.

  Layel scooted back, out of the way. A war had erupted, it seemed. The three rolled on the sandy beach in a tangle of fists and kicks. Both Brand and Zane tried to shove Nola aside as they punched and bit at each other, but she kept returning, going for Zane's throat every time.

  Her fury was like a living thing.

  I was like her, Layel mused. He'd been filled with hatred and anger, not really living for anything but death. Susan would have been ashamed of him had she met the man he'd become. But Delilah had found a way to love him, anyway.

  She was a gift. A treasure.

  And she was striding toward the bloody trio, he realized. He popped to his feet and dashed to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She turned to him, still expressionless.

  "Release me," she said.

  "Stay here. Please. I will help your friend." It would be his pleasure, giving her something she desired.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice stopped her.

  "Actually, we
will stop them."

  Layel's stomach clenched as the trio was frozen in place. How he despised these gods and their seemingly all-consuming power.

  In a blink, the fighters were on their knees, bowing, blood trickling from their wounds. They were panting as a clear jellylike being materialized in front of them. No, not one. But five. Five beings. Layel's eyes widened. He'd known there was more than one god pulling the strings, but hadn't expected so many.

  "I admire your vehemence, vampire," one of them said, solidifying into a tall, muscled, dark man. Fire blazed in his eyes, fierce and war-hungry. Ares. Ancient scrolls and portraits of the gods had once filled his palace. After Susan's death, Layel had removed them. He'd felt forgotten, abandoned, and had wanted no part of the beings who seemed more concerned with their own selfish pleasure than with the well-being of their children.

  "Enough is enough," another added, solidifying, as well. Hestia. She was plain of face yet somehow so sensual she would have made any other man hard as a rock in seconds. Any but Layel. His body existed only for Delilah.

  "The time has finally come to end this." Another female. Dark-haired, lovely. Dressed in a bright yellow robe. Artemis.

  "I, too, am tired of waiting." A man. Blond, muscled, casting an aura so vibrant Layel had to squint. Apollo.

  "Vampires, Amazons, dragons and nymphs. At last we come face-to-face. You've become predictable, the lot of you. My amusement with our little game has rapidly waned. You were to prove your strength to us, as well as demonstrating which race is superior to all others." Dark hair he sometimes changed to gold, male, tall and muscled, with eyes as blue and fathomless as the sea. Poseidon. "We could not decide, you see, and fought amongst ourselves. You were brought here to settle that argument, but all you've done is prove you are as weak and foolish as the humans, placing your hearts above your own survival."

  "What more do you want from us?" Layel asked them, inching in front of Delilah to shield her. He didn't trust these beings, and wouldn't tolerate their attention being turned to his woman. "We've done everything you've asked."