Big Bad Vamp

by Celia Kyle

  Victoria scowled and punched him in the arm. He gave her the courtesy of flinching even though the woman’s strike, regardless of her vampiric strength, felt like a light tap. “You’re a jerk.”

  “You’ll get used to me in a hundred years or so.”

  She punched him again and the wince wasn’t entirely fake. “You suck.”

  “I do. Your nipples. Your clit. Your blood.” His cock twitched. “I want you again.”

  “Again?”

  He couldn’t withhold the desire that entered his voice. “Yup. Remember? I’m really interested in that chair…”

  “Well,” a deep baritone cut into their after-sex glow. “Isn’t this a pretty picture? I can definitely see her appeal, Protector. She’s a lusty little piece, isn’t she?”

  Liam spun, shoving Victoria behind him as he faced the owner of that voice. He’d only heard a few words from the man previously, but he’d know it anywhere.

  “Jemshir.” His fangs burst from his gums, fingers curling, nails shifting into his needed claws. The daeva had invaded the manse, the Ring’s private sanctuary. How the fuck had that happened?

  Keeping his eyes trained on the bastard before him, he nudged his Fire back, herding her toward the door. A battle was on the agenda and he didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.

  A puff of midnight smoke signaled Jemshir’s disappearance. Liam reached behind him and snatched Victoria’s wrist, holding her tight as he scanned the room for the daeva’s return. He had no doubt that the demi-god would stick around until he’d caused a little chaos. It was what the species were known for.

  Jemshir didn’t disappoint. A soft pop signaled the man’s reappearance behind him. Behind Victoria. He spun to face the threat. A yank brought her forward a single step, but the daeva grabbed her as well, holding her fast between them and the being flashed a sickly smile.

  “No, Protector, you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of Miss Price’s company would you?” The voice was as deep as the sea, menace filling every word.

  His Fire wiggled and fought against the demi-god’s grip and then went still, a thoughtful look overtaking her features. Good lord, what now? “You know, it’s too bad that I never found time to get the heat sensors up and running.”

  “Victoria,” the single word held a warning he knew the woman wouldn’t heed.

  “What? I’m just sayin’ that if they were in action, I could get a read on his temp before you kill him. You’re gonna kill him, right?” Victoria glanced at Liam and then returned her attention to the daeva. “You wouldn’t wanna tell me your average body temperature, would you? See, I’m setting up this program that’ll tell us what we’re up against based on heat signature and—”

  He’d kill her. After Jemshir.

  The daeva merely smiled, black teeth adding to his air of menace. “You’re cute. Too bad I’ll have to kill you when this is over. Are you going to come along peacefully, little girl?”

  Another yank, but Liam didn’t release her. No one was about to take his Fire.

  “Depends. Are you gonna suck my dick, little boy?” He imagined her returning the demi-god’s wide smile with one of her own. God damn she made his cock hard.

  Ignoring Victoria, he took over the task of taunting Jemshir. “Hiding behind a woman’s skirts, daeva?” He needed the fucker to attack him and abandon Victoria.

  “Hardly. More like flipping up her skirts and taking what I want.” Jemshir smirked.

  The daeva kept his gaze on Liam, but leaned toward his Fire, tongue out and then the evil man licked her face. Disgust was written clearly across her features and rage stole through him. Pure. Hot. Molten.

  Victoria was frozen between them, muscles tense and he could feel the faintest of trembles racking her body.

  “She is delicious. I can see why you would like to keep her. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen.”

  With that declaration, the daeva went into action. Victoria was released and shoved aside, sending her tumbling from their path which left him free to confront the daeva. Liam didn’t hesitate.

  He leapt at the demi-god, one fist connecting with the man’s jaw while the other arm blocked Jemshir’s strike. They danced, trading kicks and punches as they traversed the room.

  He’d shove the other man against the book shelves only to have the push returned with a flat palm striking the center of his chest, sending him sliding over the carpeted floor.

  Punch. Block. Kick. Swipe.

  Droplets of blood escaped Liam’s mouth and he licked the wound, closing it without a thought. He had other cuts and scratches, but he was buoyed by the fact that Jemshir had just as many.

  “You should just hand her over, Protector. She’s nothing—”

  “Hey! Fuck you, you fucking fuck!”

  Liam ignored Victoria’s outraged yell. “She’s not leaving this mansion, daeva. You should cut your losses. Leave while you still can.”

  It was a god damned boast, and Liam knew it. At some point the demi-god would prevail, meaning Victoria would be at the being’s tender mercies.

  A glance toward his sweet fire revealed that the woman had climbed onto a bookshelf and was yanking on a fourteenth century sword bolted to the nearby wall.

  She yelled curses with every tug. “Stupid…bumblefuck…whack ass…penis wrinkle…”

  Victoria was the most determined woman he knew and he realized she’d be preoccupied, fighting to get the weapon free, while he dealt with Jemshir.

  Daeva’s were older than the oldest vamp alive today, as well as more powerful. Which meant someone even stronger was pulling the man’s strings. The thought sent a shudder down Liam’s spine.

  Jemshir snorted and disappeared in a puff of smoke only to coalesce behind him, the rancid scent of his breath wafting over Liam’s cheek. “I could cut you a deal, Protector. Her life for yours.”

  Liam roared, fury pumping through his veins, a renewed rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He spun and swiped at the daeva’s neck, nails slicing through the vulnerable flesh, his overwhelming possessiveness of Victoria giving him strength.

  “Never.” Breath heaving, he struck again, raking his claws over the man’s chest. “She’s mine. Mine.” Another swing. “Why is she so important to you? You’re a lapdog, daeva. A pathetic minion.” The next swipe cut through Jemshir’s abdomen. “You must ask yourself, Jemshir, why has your master sacrificed you to the Protectors? Because you’re nothing.” Kick. “But a useless.” Punch. “Liability. You let her escape once and now your master has no use for you.”

  The daeva’s roar of outrage echoed off the walls and Liam could see the straining muscles beneath the man’s skin. He watched as the swirling mist of blackness enveloped Jemshir’s body, signaling the daeva’s escape. Fuck. That.

  “You’re not disappearing now, asshole.” Not caring about the damage he was about to inflict upon himself, he reached into the darkness that enveloped the daeva. If the man was leaving, Liam was going along for the ride. He wasn’t done with the daeva yet.

  He thrust his hand into the aerated poison and wrapped his hand around Jemshir’s neck. Yanking hard, ignoring the overwhelming pain that enveloped his arm, he forced the daeva to halt his retreat and pulled him from the smoke.

  Arm coated in the evil that surrounded Jemshir, he held fast while the other man clawed at his grip. Agony filled him, tore at his muscles and battered him from within. Ignoring everything but the man in his grasp, Liam cocked his free arm back and slammed his fist into the daeva’s face, catching him just right and knocking the fucker out with that single punch.

  With agonizing effort, he forced his damaged hand to release the daeva, who flopped to the ground in an unconscious heap. Pain wracked Liam’s body, slithering along his arm and into his very soul.

  A glance at the source revealed swirling lines, similar to the tattoos that decorated Jemshir’s neck, now covered his right arm from fingertips to elbow.

  Then a short, curvaceous body slammed into h
im, arms wrapping around his waist, and a familiar purple head pressed against his chest. Apparently she’d abandoned her attempts to remove the sword. “You asshole!”

  “Is that Victoria for: ‘Thank you for saving me, Liam’?”

  “Don’t you ever do that again.” She nuzzled him, and he cradled her skull with his undamaged palm.

  “I’ll always protect you, love. Always. You belong to me and I keep what is mine.” He prayed she could sense the emotion that imbued his words. Words he wasn’t quite ready to release to the world. He rubbed her back in slow strokes, soothing her as best he could. The pain had lessened to a dull throb, but he ignored even that. Nothing was more important than the woman in his arms.

  The creak of the room’s doors cut through the silence and Liam released her, spinning to confront the newest threat. Only it was the Protectors that filled the doorway, Carac leading the cluster into the library.

  “Liam.” Carac snapped out his name. The Sovereign’s attention drifted to the prone body at his side and then shifted his attention back to him, a single brow raised.

  “The daeva, Jemshir, and I had a disagreement. He wanted Victoria. I wanted him dead. For the moment, he’s alive.” Though, if he had any say in the matter, the man wouldn’t remain that way for long. Liam couldn’t allow a threat to his Fire to remain. Then again, there was the thing with his hand.

  “I see.” Carac’s gaze remained intent on the demi-god. “What happened? Are you whole?”

  Liam raised his right hand, biting back the curse that came with the pain of moving. “Other than new tattoos, I’m fine. I reached for him as he tried to vanish and got this.”

  Carac nodded. “We’ll have to contact Brom.” The vampire’s attention shifted to Victoria. “And hopefully your Fire can assist him in discovering what the results of your altercation will be. I’ve never…” Carac shook his head and then, with a snap of his fingers, he had Simond and Joce moving forward.

  The two vampires lifted the daeva and carried him from the room. Liam knew the dungeon would hold Jemshir for the foreseeable future. The mansion was protected by local witches, the eldest only a couple of hundred years old. The dungeons… The dungeons were guarded by something much older. And scarier.

  Carac moved around the table, deftly avoiding the blotches of blood that decorated the carpeting, and took his seat in the ornately carved chair. The rest of the Protectors, Liam included, searched out their own seats.

  Mostly.

  “Dude. I can smell sex over here. I’m not sitting there. There could be a wet spot or something.” Tybalt backed away from his usual chair and raced around the table.

  Glaring at the vampire, Liam pulled the seat out and lowered into it, thankful there really wasn’t a wet spot. He rested his hand on the scarred tabletop and watched the black lines swirl over his skin. He didn’t feel different, other than the pain, but he feared what the marks could mean.

  The rhythmic thump of something bouncing along the carpet drew his attention and he turned to watch his Fire drag a small chair toward him. Of course, she was half bent over, her rear facing him and skirt riding so high that he could almost see her bare ass. Or rather, his bare ass since every part of her belonged to him.

  Before Liam could rise to help her, Carac’s voice cut into the silence. “Victoria?”

  “What?” She looked over her shoulder, glare in place. “I’m sitting at that table, damn it. I don’t care if this is some super boys club. If you even think of telling me I can’t I’ll—”

  “I was merely going to offer you Brom’s seat.” The Sovereign’s voice was flat.

  Victoria blushed, and Liam wondered if that lovely shade of red covered all of her. “Oh.” She cleared her throat, straightened and abandoned her chair. “Okay, then.”

  Then she plopped down beside him.

  His heart warmed, and he knew he had some dumb ass sappy grin on his face while he watched her. He’d seen her glare a hole in a daeva and then spit fire at the Sovereign. He didn’t think a more perfect woman could have ever been made.

  When Joce and Simond returned from dumping the daeva in the dungeon, they all recapped their evening. Pinxton’s pixies had been causing trouble downtown, and it seemed, in addition to the daeva, some goblins had joined the King’s crusade against the Knights. The evening had been bloody. And they all wondered if it’d been a diversion so that Jemshir could get to Victoria.

  Luckily, Victoria had remained quiet. Until they started tossing ideas around about what was in the works.

  Then hell broke loose.

  Liam’s brother Protectors did not care for an outsider in their midst. They hadn’t said a word when Carac had allowed her to stay, but joining the discussion was, apparently, too much for them.

  Smiling, he watched his Fire go to work, nibbling her lip as she flipped through the pages of her notebook. “I was reading and—”

  Joce snorted. Victoria glared at the vampire. Liam eased a fraction closer to his Fire. Joce had no love for humans, the vamp’s past having stained him. Even though his Fire wasn’t quite human any longer, it seemed her partial transition wasn’t enough for the man.

  “I was reading through the books written in more languages than you could ever forget, Joce—”

  “You little bi—” Simond saved Joce’s life by slapping his hand over the other man’s mouth.

  “And found several passages that may pertain to what’s happening and who’s pulling Pinxton and Jemshir’s strings. I don’t claim to know everything there is to know about your world, but…” Victoria huffed. “You’ve got a chick in the sixth century, another in the eighth and the Brahan Seer in the eleventh that all say the same thing. Then there’s a guy in the fifteenth that seems to expand on it a bit. Basically, shit is about to hit the fan.” His Fire swallowed hard, and Liam could sense the worry pouring off her in waves. He reached out with his undamaged hand and stroked her, running his palm along her back until he felt her tense muscles ease.

  Liam looked around the room, noticing Carac’s small smile and the sense of mirth that came from a few of the others.

  Victoria took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Basically, the ‘One’ is building an army of baddies. They don’t say who the ‘One’ is directly. Just that he or she is wicked dangerous. I’ll call him ‘he’ for now. He can only be defeated by,” she glanced at her notes. “By the king of many, conqueror in life and in death. There’s a few mentions of who’ll be helping things along. Something about someone who walks in darkness and light, a raging fire… I’ll keep digging. Basically, the ‘One’ is going to rise again and come out swinging, guys.”

  Silence descended once Victoria grew quiet, and shock tore through Liam. He knew she had a flair for sarcasm, but she said everything with such conviction that he had no choice but to believe her.

  He turned his attention to Carac, waiting for his Sovereign to respond.

  It didn’t take long.

  “I see.” Then another moment of quiet as Carac brought his attention to the table top, hand tracing the scars on the wood. “You’re sure, Victoria?”

  His Fire sighed. Liam knew she hated her true name, but she hadn’t snapped at the Sovereign about it. Yet. Life was long.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’m assuming the king is Arthur since you thought the man was dead. And we know he wasn’t human, and he fought in life and death. Am I right?”

  Liam nodded, and Simond spoke up. “Yeah, he was Changed just after becoming king, though I don’t remember who Changed him.”

  Come to think of it, neither did Liam. Not that he was the historian in their Ring… Then again, they never sat down and talked about the beginnings of the Knight Protectors. During training and initiation, a broad history was shared, more legend and grandstanding than anything. But the specifics were never revealed.

  Carac’s attention turned to Victoria. “Did any of the books speak of where Arthur could be found?”

  Tension filled his Fire once again, a
nd he didn’t hesitate. He scooped Victoria off her chair and then placed her on his lap, glaring at one and all and daring them to comment.

  No one said a word. Good, he wouldn’t have to kill anyone for teasing him.

  “No,” Victoria cleared her throat. “Nothing yet. But, I thought…when a vampire is Released…the whole spreading ashes thing…”

  “We’ll have Brom check the scrolls in Rome.” Carac paused. “Victoria, are you sure you’ve found nothing? Is there a passage you may not fully understand?”

  His Fire leaned her head against his shoulder and he tightened his hold, enjoying the feel of her body against his. “No. I’ve only gotten through twenty volumes. Four of those mentioned Arthur.” She sighed. “I can keep digging, but it’d go faster if I had someone to help.”

  Liam snorted. “You think someone like you just drops out of the sky?”

  “No, they get trapped in storage units and are attacked by deranged Pixie Kings. Oh, then they’re assaulted in a room plucked out of the Middle Ages. Funny. Ha. Ha.” He could practically see her eye roll. “I’m just saying that we could figure things out sooner, rather than later, if you got another vampstorian in here.”

  Simond coughed. “Vampstorian?”

  “Uh, duh. Vampire. Historian. Vampstorian.” Victoria sat up. “I’m the President of the Atlanta chapter.”

  Liam fought his laughter. He knew she was feeling proud of her position, but damn if his Fire wasn’t adorable.

  “How many members do you have?” Joce tossed at her with a sneer, and Liam had to fight the urge to fly across the room and wipe that expression from his features. Based on the twitching of Victoria’s muscles, he figured she had the same desire.

  “Fuck. You.” Then she grumbled. “Okay, one. But I’m actively recruiting and membership is open.” Then she mumbled. “Asshole.”

  “Bitch, I’ll—” Joce pushed from his chair and Liam mirrored the action, nudging Victoria back to her seat while he rose to his feet.

  Liam’s muscles tensed, ready to take on the man he’d called brother only moments ago. “You can disagree with my Fire, but you will not threaten her. You won’t raise your voice to her. You will not look at her with anything but respect. And if you don’t, I’ll—”