“I told you the werewolves would want your blood, Thomas,” Elsbeth reminded him. “I just didn’t expect them to collect directly.”
“In these types of situations it is generally expected for the Seethe Mistress to send out a team of assassins,” Xander explained. “I trained you with that scenario in mind, but this… I don’t know.” He shook his head. “This is not a handful of werewolves, but the entire pack, and they have a vampire on their side. We do not stand a chance.”
There was a moment of silence in which Thomas simply sat, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed in deadly concentration. “We have until tomorrow night?”
“We do.”
“Then we will use that time to prepare. I am not going down without a fight. Not after all this.”
* * *
“I’m scared, Thomas.”
Thomas let his shirt slide to the floor as he turned to face Elsbeth, who was sitting on the bed; her dark eyes round with anxiety, her face paler than ever. Her hands were sitting in her lap, fingers twisting into knots, and he kneeled before her and took them into his own, unraveling the digits and pressing a kiss to each of them.
“I know, love,” he murmured, unsure of what to say. “I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be all right. That good always triumphs, and that we can have the happily ever after we’ve been dreaming about. But I don’t know how this is going to end.”
Elsbeth sighed, blinking away tears. “I know,” she whispered, tugging one of her hands free so she could trace Thomas’s face. Her fingers fluttered over his lips. “You’re so strong. So brave. My fearless warrior.”
Thomas gave her a small smile and shook his head. “I fear for you, Elsbeth. For your safety, for your happiness.”
She cupped his face with both hands. “I’m happy as long as I can stay with you.”
Closing the distance, she pressed her lips against his, and sighed as his strong arms slipped around her waist to cradle her against his chest. The kiss was sweet, full of tender hopes and dreams and longings, filled with the future of all that could be between them if only fate gave them the chance to flourish. Tears pricked Elsbeth’s eyes again, and she blinked them back determinedly. This could very well be their last bit of time together, and she didn’t want to taint the memory with grief.
“Make love to me, Thomas,” she pleaded against his lips. “Please.”
“I could never resist a plea like that,” he assured her, rising up. He laid her back onto the bed before climbing up placing his knees on either side of her legs. Elsbeth shivered as he slid her dress up, slowly, slowly, his hands gliding along the outside of her thighs, her ribcage, the sides of her breasts. She lifted her arms and allowed him to pull the garment over her head, then caught her breath as his eyes drank in her naked flesh.
“I will never get tired of this,” he murmured huskily, cupping her breasts in his hands. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples and she moaned. “Of hearing your cries, of looking at your beautiful body. You’re mine, Elsbeth.” He leaned over and flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “All mine.”
Elsbeth felt as though her heart would burst—at the beginning of all this, when the guilt over Thomas’s fate had nearly crushed her, she’d worried that she would never hear Thomas say a kind word to her, to say nothing of a declaration of love. She would never get enough of hearing his impassioned words, of the desire in his eyes or the way his lips and hands roamed her flesh hungrily, paying homage to her body.
He trailed a hot path from her earlobe down her neck, and then licked the pulse point near the hollow of her throat. “Elsbeth?” The question was clear in his voice, and she nodded, her breath coming fast.
“Take whatever you want.”
His fangs pierced her skin and she cried out as they sank into her flesh, the pain quickly eclipsed by pleasure. The soft sucking sounds he made were nearly as erotic as the sensations coursing through her—moisture pooled between her legs, soaking her curls and inner thighs, and she clutched him tightly, her nails digging into his bare shoulders.
Unable to bear another moment of the hollow ache inside her, she pushed his leggings down his knees using her toes. He finally pulled his fangs from her and, chuckling darkly, gripped her hips and slid inside her.
“Thomas,” Elsbeth cried, her back arching as she was filled to the brim.
“Oh, yes,” Thomas groaned, slowly rocking his hips as he worked his thick shaft in and out of her. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her eyes tracing his taut features, his gleaming, sweat-slicked chest. He should have looked fearsome in the candlelight, with his hair in disarray, his eyes burning and the ring of blood around his mouth, but he just looked sexy. Deliciously so.
Levering up on her elbows, she traced a long line up from his abdomen to the middle of his chest, tasting the salty sweat on his body. His muscles quivered beneath her mouth, and she smiled as he groaned.
“I’m not going to last very long if you do things like that to me,” he growled huskily.
Elsbeth grinned. “Nothing lasts forever.”
“But we can slow it down.” He pushed her back down onto the bed.
He increased the power and speed of his thrusts, and Elsbeth cried out, her nails digging into his back, the force of his thrusts shaking the wooden bedframe. He reached between them, his thumb tunneling through the juncture of curls to find her sweet spot, and he began stroking it in time to his thrusts, increasing the knot of pleasure building inside her womb. She came violently, her entire body spasming as her shrieks echoed off the walls.
Thomas spilled his seed inside her moments later, then rolled over and pulled her atop him, his shaft still hard and buried deep within her. She felt it give a latent twitch, and giggled.
“I want to make you do that more often,” Thomas remarked softly, brushing tendrils of inky hair from her face.
“Do what?” Elsbeth smiled slightly.
He grinned and squeezed one of her butt cheeks, making her yelp. “Make you laugh. It is one of the most endearing things about you, and I don’t hear it enough.”
Elsbeth leaned her head against Thomas’s chest, closing her eyes so she could listen to the sound of his heartbeat. “Well, if we make it through tomorrow night, I promise, you will.”
* * *
“Are we almost there, vampire?” Khan snapped.
Malachi tensed, fighting the urge to turn around and snarl at the werewolf that if the old bastard would just be quiet, he would have an easier time concentrating. But he knew that would only earn him more grief from the Alpha, and the tension headache at the base of his skull warned him that he already had enough grief to begin with.
In the last few days, Malachi had entertained the idea of killing Khan more than once. He didn’t deny that a majority of that desire stemmed from the fact that the Alpha was a domineering bastard who seemed hell-bent on making this as hard as possible on Malachi. He was constantly badgering him, interrupting his concentration, insulting his tracking skills, insisting that he was trying to slow them down so that their prey had more time to prepare.
The last one happened to be true, but Malachi certainly wouldn’t admit that if he valued his life. But the rest of it was just insulting, and he wished more than once that the Alpha had not insisted upon holding his weapons until they reached Thomas and Elsbeth so he could plant a dagger in Khan’s chest. If doing so would assure Elsbeth’s safety he would have done it in a heartbeat, would have killed Khan with a tree branch if he had to, but the other werewolves would simply continue on the hunt—after they slaughtered him, of course. And if they didn’t, Mistress Amelia certainly would after discovering that he had single-handedly brought about the destruction of the peace treaty between the wolves and vampires.
“We should be there within the hour,” Malachi responded, keeping his eyes focused ahead as he picked his way through the hastily beaten mountain trail. He had never been to this place, but he’d heard of it before—this was the home of Xa
nder, a hermit vampire, who lived here with a few other vampires, a law unto themselves. He was old and powerful, and would be hard to take down. Under any other circumstances, Malachi would be running in the other direction.
But as things stood now, he only felt pity for Xander. The vampire wouldn’t stand a chance against an entire pack of werewolves.
They continued on, and dread settled into Malachi’s chest, the weight becoming heavier the closer they got to their destination. He could practically see Elsbeth in his mind’s eye, standing in a clearing, her long, black hair blowing in the breeze, tendrils caressing her sweet face. Her eyes would widen when she saw him, first in shock and fear, and then narrow in rage as she realized how he’d betrayed her. Them. It was no longer simply ‘her’ now that she’d chosen Thomas.
“What are your plans once we reach them?” he asked Khan, wondering if there wasn’t still a way to stop this despite how far he’d come.
“Kill them all, of course,” Khan said, matter-of-factly.
“Kill them all? Including the other vampires who will be living there?”
Khan shrugged. “If they were stupid enough to aid these two despite knowing we would come, they deserve to die. Besides, I plan to do quite a bit of vampire killing in the near future. What is a handful more?”
Malachi stiffened, then stopped and turned to face Khan fully. “What do you mean by that?”
Many of the wolves growled, but Khan held up a hand and they quieted. A genial expression crossed his face, and the hairs on the back of Malachi’s head stood on end. He’d never seen Khan so… friendly, before, and it worried him greatly.
“When I am finished here, I will bring my pack around, return to our homeland, and eliminate your Seethe.”
Malachi was stunned. “You would slaughter us all. After Mistress Amelia has worked so hard to ensure the treaty is not broken? How could you act so callous, when the two of you used to be lovers?”
Khan’s face mottled with rage, and he took a menacing step forward. “Don’t presume to know my mind or heart! Amelia is not the same woman she once was when I imprinted her. Her years among vampires have twisted her, corrupted her… I cannot allow her to live this way any longer. The only way to set her free is for her to die, and to ensure that happens I must destroy the filth that is her Seethe—and her half-breed army.”
“Army?” Malachi replied carefully, his expression going blank. Did Khan know? Or simply suspect? Had he been toying with him this entire time, taunting him with threats when the plan had been to kill him all along?
“Yes, her army of half-breeds. Are you going to lie to my face, when my nose discerns the truth so easily?”
Before Malachi could respond, Khan snapped his fingers, and one of the nearby wolves stepped up behind him and gripped his chin, pressing Malachi’s body against the wolf’s hairy chest as his jugular was exposed. Malachi saw the quick flash of moonlight against the blade right before it was sliced across his throat, tracing an explosion of fire across his flesh. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a wet gurgle as blood filled his esophagus.
“I do not believe we will be requiring your services any longer,” Khan remarked as the werewolf released Malachi, who fell facedown to the earth. “The scent is strong enough that we can take it from here.”
With a fierce battle cry, Khan charged up the hill, and his pack followed, their howls echoing across the mountain as they closed in for the kill.
* * *
Thomas gave the knives Xander had loaned him one last scrape against the sharpener, and then tucked them into his boots and sleeves. Around him, the other vampires were doing the same, with Elsbeth helping in any way she could, either by fetching more supplies or materials, or simply staying out of the way when she could. Outwardly, the six of them remained calm, but every time a wolf’s howl struck the night air they stiffened. The cries were getting louder, and Thomas knew they didn’t have much time.
“I want to stay and watch the battle.”
Thomas turned to look at her. She was standing a few feet to the side, her face a study in contrast—her trembling mouth told him just how much she feared the outcome of this battle, but the fierce determination in her eyes bespoke of the length she was willing to go to keep him from getting hurt.
He crossed over to her and cupped her face in his hands. “I know, my love.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “But I can’t let you do that.”
“Why?” She propped her hands on her hips. “I have been a vampire much longer than you have been a half-vampire. I am fast and strong in my own right, and more than capable of defending myself.”
“I’m not worried that you will have a hard time defending yourself. I’m worried that instead of keeping yourself safe, you will throw your life away at some crucial moment in order to spare mine.” He pressed a finger to her lips when she opened them to protest. “Am I wrong?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t bear to stand by and watch you die, Thomas.”
He nodded. “That’s part of why I’m asking you to go away. So you don’t have to witness such a horrible fate, should it come to pass.”
She shook her head. “I won’t run from this, Thomas. Everything that’s led up to this moment is my doing. I refuse to take the coward’s way out.”
“If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me,” he pleaded, allowing a note of desperation to creep into his voice. “Don’t you see, Elsbeth? If I am constantly worrying about whether or not you’re safe, or trying to make sure you don’t end up on the wrong end of a werewolf’s claws while trying to protect me, I will not be able to focus on the battle. And my death will most certainly be assured. You need to go.”
Elsbeth swallowed, forcing back her tears. “Promise me you won’t give up, no matter what happens.”
“That’s a promise I’m willing to keep.” He lowered his head, kissed her long and deep, and then pushed her away. “Now go!” he commanded just as another howl split the air—the wolves were at the door.
Elsbeth did as he bade—but not before throwing her arms around Xander, who had watched the exchange in silence. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in his ear. “For everything.”
He squeezed her tightly. “You are always welcome,” he assured her, and then gave her a push of his own. “Flee now.”
With tears threatening to choke her, Elsbeth slipped out the back, dashing into the woods and feeling like the lowest of cowards as the two most important men in her life stepped out to face what was most likely the biggest battle of their lives.
* * *
Thomas stood outside the cabin, Xander and the other three vampires flanking him. They made a formidable sight, the five of them spread out in a half circle, their expressions fierce, their stances taut, weapons ready.
But the pack of werewolves stepping from the woods was even more fearsome, especially with Khan in the lead. Thomas noted that even though he and his fellow vampires were outfitted with weapons and leather armor, neither the Alpha nor his pack carried anything but the very lightweight clothing on their bodies.
“Where is Malachi?” Thomas’s voice rang out. “Our source told us that he was leading you here.” He didn’t want to mention Xander’s powers if he didn’t have to—on the off-chance that Khan didn’t know about them, it could give them some kind of advantage.
Khan grinned, showcasing an impossible amount of wickedly sharp teeth as he did so. “He met with a rather unfortunate accident on our way up. Thankfully we were close enough that we were able to track you the rest of the way without difficulty.” His expression hardened. “Now enough chit chat. It’s time we did what we came here to do.”
“And what would that be?” Ranulf asked, his deep voice mocking, and Thomas smiled. Brutish and domineering right to the end. He took the moment to check his weapons one more time, and then drew the long dagger from the sheath he’d stuck through his belt.
“Kill you, of course!” Khan snarled—and just like
that, he changed. One moment he was a powerfully built man, the next a rippling, fur covered mass of muscle charging toward him on all fours.
“Charge!”
* * *
Malachi lay on the ground, his blood-encrusted eyes cracked open just enough to be able to see a sprinkling of stars peeking through the forest canopy. Dimly, he could hear the snarls and cries of battle, and his heart sank lightly—he had failed. During the days he had bought himself by backtracking and looping around, he had been unable to formulate any plan that would assure Elsbeth’s safety. Here he was, covering the forest floor with his blood, while she was probably fighting valiantly for herself and her lover.
All he’d managed to do so far was roll onto his back so that he didn’t have to lie there with his face planted in the blood. Which was unacceptable. He might be incapable of moving, but that didn’t mean he needed to lie here like an invalid.
Not when there was something he could do to help.
Closing his eyes, he called to mind the names and faces of the men and women he knew so well. They came from all walks of life, their stories and personalities as vast as the spectrum, but the one thing they all had in common was what enabled him to reach out and touch their minds.
Help. Please, help us now, before it is too late!
The call drained him of energy so that he could no longer control his thoughts, and as the connection slipped through his mental fingers, it was replaced with the memory of a face so dear to him that it hurt to look upon it.
Clouds of inky hair wreathed her pale, heart-shaped face; her eyes sparkling like dewy grass, her curved lips pinker than the fairest dawn. It was his wife, Emily, standing in a sunlit meadow, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers and wearing a simple white dress that danced around her ankles. There was a pastor present, guiding them through their wedding vows, but Malachi barely noticed him—his eyes had been all for his wife the day of their wedding.
They’d had a simple ceremony, with only their parents in attendance, and then Malachi had taken her back to the cottage he’d built with his bare hands and made slow, passionate love to her all night long. It had been the happiest moment of his life.
Darkest Hour (New Adult Paranormal Romance) Page 8
