Templar Vampires 02 - The Daystar

by Lyons, Rene

  She laughed, remembering the hours she’d spent singing and dancing in front of the mirror, a brush for a microphone. Sometimes she forced Allie and Christian to be her audience. “Something to do with sounding like a dying frog when I sing kept me from it.”

  Lex held back her surprise at Constantine’s laughter. This was the first time she’d heard the sound—one of genuine humor. “I can see how that would hinder your career.”

  “Even Allie told me to give it up, and that’s saying a lot since she nurtured my every childish whim.” She sat up and faced him. He drew in a sharp breath when she ran her hands along his bare arms. The thick cords of muscles tightened at her touch. “I can’t imagine how hard you must have trained to learn how to fight the way you do.”

  Constantine grunted and looked back to the flames. Of course Lex couldn’t imagine what he’d had to do to become the man he’d grown into. Most people couldn’t, not even the men from his day. He’d pushed himself beyond human endurance in order to be able to fight his way out of the life fate had dropped him in.

  When Constantine saw the way Lex was watching him, he slapped a scowl on his face. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Her smile was wistful as she regarded him. “I’m trying to imagine you as a young boy.”

  “I was shorter.”

  “Obviously,” she laughed. “What color were your eyes?”

  “Blue.”

  Lex looked surprised. “Really? I imagined them to have been brown.” She brushed a chunk of his hair away from his face. It made him feel exposed, which was why he always let it hang over his face in chunky spikes. “Who had blue eyes in your family?”

  “My mother.”

  Lex moved her hand to his scar. Constantine cringed, wanting to pull away as much as he wanted her to never stop touching him. “I’m so sorry your life was so brutal.”

  No one was more sorry than him.

  He moved his head away from her touch and his body went cold. Constantine couldn’t take pity on his best day, especially not from Lex. Struggling to keep his anger at bay, which was his usual reaction if he thought someone pitied him, Constantine shrugged, hoping to downplay the horrors of his life. “What’s done is done.”

  She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to see past the mask of indifference that Constantine had settled over his features. “Is it, Constantine?”

  “We all have our crosses to bear.”

  Lex smiled sadly. “Some of us carry heavier burdens than others.”

  Of that there was no doubt.

  The weight of his life bore down on him, like the weight of the world upon Atlas’s shoulders. He knew eventually he’d be crushed by it, if it didn’t turn him into a raging madman first. He hoped Lex was someplace far from the ugliness of this nocturnal world when it did.

  Constantine stood, barely aware that Lex did as well. She moved to sit on the bed as he began to pace the width of the chamber. His memories were a fist around his heart, squeezing at it, trying to draw blood from a stone. The dead thing, blackened with sin, sat in his chest as a constant reminder of all he’d lost—and all he’d never had.

  “The world was different then.” He remembered the days when he’d spent long hours on the lists, honing the skills he’d need to survive in his world. “By the age of eleven I’d already thought I’d seen how cruel the world was. And then I went off to squire for a lord who proved I knew nothing of the horrors of life.”

  As much as Constantine wanted to take back what he’d said—hell, he didn’t even know why he’d said anything at all about his past—he felt a small burden lifted from him.

  “It was that bad?”

  He turned, giving her his back. “Look at my body, Lex. Every mark on me is a testimony to my life.”

  When Constantine faced her, he was prepared to see pity in her expression—and hate her for it. Instead, he was met by a look of raw love that nearly staggered him.

  “It’s shaped you into a remarkable man.”

  “It’s made me into a bloody monster.”

  Lex shook her head. “No, not a monster. Merely a man who has known too little kindness in his life.”

  He stalked over to her, forcing Lex to crane her neck up to look him in the eye. Constantine knelt before her, remembering the vision of her standing on the balcony overlooking the land as the sun faded around her. She’d looked so beautiful in his vision that even now, the image of her bathed in the light of the sun was one he knew he’d carry with him straight into Hell.

  “Until you.”

  Lex took his hands in hers. Her power flowed into him. Constantine sensed she was fighting to control it. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, and I don’t know if it’s right or not, but I’m glad you’re here.” She swept her hand through the air. “And I don’t mean here, at Lowel. I mean I’m glad fate brought us together.”

  Just like that, everything he’d suffered rushed him. Every moment of pain, every humiliation, every agonizing detail of his death played out in his mind. When his memories were done, Constantine knew only one thing.

  “So am I, elf.”

  When she leaned into him, Constantine wrapped his arms around her. The steady beat of her heart against his chest lent him the illusion of life.

  “I want to go home.”

  Lex’s whisper cut through him. “I know. I promise you I’ll take you home.”

  “What if something goes wrong?” Her question was muffled against his chest, her voice vibrating through him.

  “It won’t.

  I’ll make damn certain of that.

  She leaned away and offered him a weak smile. Her fear for what was to come penetrated the veil of magic and seeped into him. It was poison in his body. “You know, if I become a big ball of energy, Allie’s going to eviscerate you.”

  Constantine flinched. “No shit.”

  He didn’t need the threat of Allie’s wrath to inspire him to fight for Lex. He cared too much about her to give her up without one hell of a fight. He’d defy God all over again, his oath be damned, to save her from whatever was to come Halloween night.

  For the first time in his life and death, Constantine needed someone. He needed the calm he found only with Lex. He needed her beauty to take away the ugliness of his world. He needed her warmth to chase away the cold and her innocence to wipe clean the stain of his past.

  But most of all, he needed her love.

  * * *

  When she was a young girl, Isobel had imagined her life playing out vastly different than it had. For one thing, she’d never imagined being married for three years to a man who’d enjoyed hurting her and who’d nearly killed her countless times.

  She’d been the perfect product of her day. A paragon of nobility, Isobel was all things a lady was supposed to be. Obedient, subservient, able to ply her hand at the myriad of menial tasks a gentle lady should. She never showed anger or sorrow. Instead, she presented to the world a serene face, which masked the misery festering in her heart.

  And she’d never dared reveal the secrets her mother had passed down to her. The secrets of their Druid ancestry were such that her mother had even withheld from sharing with Isobel’s father. Witchcraft. Heresy. Those two words caused the women of her line to harbor their secrets well, lest they be met with a fiery end.

  Isobel kept her family’s secrets and had been the perfect lady and an ideal wife in a turbulent time in England’s history.

  Suffering Roland’s beatings with grace, Isobel had always believed one day he’d kill her in a fit of rage. Fate proved her right. On the night he’d returned from quelling the Saxon uprisings against William the First, her husband had beaten her so severely he’d knocked her into a sleep that had lasted for days. It was while she’d slept that she knew her time would not come to an end by Roland’s hand.

  While she’d lay dying, Isobel was given a new life. Eternal life. When she’d woken, reborn of the night, she’d quenched the hunger by feeding from—and killi
ng—Roland.

  From that moment on, Isobel know only freedom and luxury, savoring the power that came with her new existence.

  She’d been reborn in the year 1070. In all of her time, never once had Isobel known a more tortured soul than Constantine Draegon. His pain, of both body and mind, had moved her to do something she’d never done prior nor since. She’d risked her own existence to aid a human. If she’d known what her decision to send him off with Guy Sinclair would have wrought, she would have left him to Ulric. At least he would have died with his soul intact and God, in His mercy, would have accepted Constantine in Heaven.

  When Isobel had learned that Constantine had been arrested in France and was being held at Chinon, she’d done everything within her power—and a bit beyond—to gain his freedom. Unfortunately, Philip of France had been a stubborn bastard and refused to release the infamous Dragon.

  She had wanted to be there for his death, a familiar face among a crowd of strangers who’d cheered as the flames delivered them unto death. The sunlight had prevented it. He’d been damned and not a night went by when Isobel didn’t feel guilt for having played a role in what Constantine had become.

  This was the reason she was the only one of the Order who celebrated their mating. And there was no doubt in Isobel’s mind they were mated. Neither Constantine nor Lexine might realize it, but they were as joined together as if they’d performed the blood ritual that would bind them for all time.

  Knowing she didn’t have all night to linger dwelling on a past that could not be changed, Isobel gave up the privacy of her chamber. She ventured down to the hall, where Madeline and Lenora awaited her. Angelica and Daria had gone to feed. Isobel gave a moment’s pause at that. The women could have called in a donor, and though going out to hunt wasn’t unlike Angelica, it was something Daria had only recently taken to doing. It sparked an uneasy feeling in Isobel, enough to remember to have one of the twins keep a watch on her.

  Though Isobel never wanted to assume a member of the Order would dare betray the First, the truth of the matter was, there were no guarantees to ensure everlasting loyalty. And now was not the time to take chances. Not with Samhain so near. Nothing could go wrong. If it did, the results would be catastrophic.

  Lenora, who’d been honing the blade of one of her daggers, looked at her inquisitively. Madeline, a learned woman, more often than not found with her nose buried in a book, set aside the thick tome she was reading.

  “What are we to do about Dragon?”

  Isobel understood their enthusiasm to shed Constantine’s blood, even if she didn’t agree with it. “Nothing. You are to do nothing. The death warrant has been canceled.”

  As long as the assassins hung back and didn’t threaten his existence, Isobel believed peace—fragile though it was—could be maintained and Samhain would come and pass with no blood being shed. Vampire or otherwise.

  Madeline was clearly aggravated by this turn of events. “Very well.”

  Lenora wasn’t so quick to comply, however. “One aggressive move and I take him out.”

  Madeline and Lenora, vicious as they were, were as loyal to the Order as any sister, which was why Isobel nodded in agreement. “Just remember, we can ill afford a war with the Templars.”

  “We can take them, and well you know it.”

  “What they lack in number they make up for in power, and well you know this. Constantine is not to be taken out. Not now, nor after Samhain. No matter what occurs that night.”

  Madeline nodded before reclaiming her tome. Lenora grumbled an agreement as she continued to stroke the blade with the sharpening stone.

  With that bit of business done, Isobel gave in to the nagging hunger. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Ancient though she was, and well in control of her body’s needs, she still craved blood. She could call in a donor, but found the occasional hunt broke the monotony of an existence that had spanned over a thousand years.

  She hoped to find Daria in the village, but something nagged at her that she wouldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Julian leveled a hard glare at his lover, who sat perched on the edge of the bed looking demur and positively enchanting. That such evil was wrapped in such an angelic package never failed to amaze, and delight him. “Are you positive? If you’re wrong... ”

  She held up a hand, her manicured pink nails went with the feminine look she worked to its full advantage. “I heard Isobel tell Constantine myself.”

  Pleased by this news, Julian resumed his pacing of the length of his chamber. His fury knew no bounds. How such a vital piece of information had slipped by him all of these centuries, he didn’t know. That the power of the Daystar could only be exchanged on the night of the Bloodmoon was interesting indeed.

  It changed nothing, yet everything, at the same time.

  He turned a cool smile on his lover, who’d taken a great risk to deliver this information to him. He’d reward her well for it. “Excellent, my love.”

  Coming to a stop in front of her, Julian admired the way she looked at him with such devotion. It made him giddy to think that the day would come when all of humanity would regard him in much the same manner.

  And if they didn’t adore him, he’d make damn certain they feared him. Feared him right to marrow of their bones.

  Julian stroked her throat, sensing the bloodlust was upon her. “Draegon hasn’t taken from her yet, has he?”

  She made a purring sound in the back of her throat. The sound excited him. “Her body, yes, but not her blood.” Her cat-like eyes slid closed. “A donor was called in for him the first night they arrived. He hasn’t fed since.”

  Julian continued to stroke his lover’s throat as he contemplated this situation. A creature such as Constantine Draegon needed to feed more often than other vampires since his fury ran so hot. If he continued to restrict his blood intake, the hunger would eventually drive him mad. The Order would have no choice but to end him. Such a happening boded well for Julian, since it eliminated the complication of Constantine Draegon come Samhain.

  “I don’t care what needs be done, but keep Draegon from feeding.”

  She nodded, still making the seductive purring sound. She pleased him well, this one. He’d miss her when she was gone, if for no other reason than he wouldn’t have someone to share his bloodlust with.

  Her mouth curled into the only type of grin he’d seen cross her angelic face—one of pure menace. “Of course, Julian. Anything for you.”

  “And all is in readiness?”

  She nodded. “I feel certain the Hallowed trusts me enough that I can manage to pry her away from Draegon.”

  He was less certain of that, but decided to keep that observation to himself. After all, if she failed him, he had another ready and willing to take her out and carry on with the plan.

  When Julian pulled away from her and crossed the chamber, his lover’s gaze passed over him greedily. His latest victim was bound on the bed. Naked and shivering from cold, it was obvious the poor girl was terrified. Julian idly ran his hand over her head, smiling. He inhaled the aromas of her blood and fear. He was reluctant to share this one with his lover.

  Never had Julian encountered a creature who relished the joy of the kill more than his lover. Her life had twisted her into the bloodthirsty vampire here with him tonight. How she managed to hide her true nature from the Order, he didn’t know.

  From what he knew, the First had found her in the gutter of London, bleeding out from a birth gone horribly wrong. Her master, a wealthy lord who’d got her with child and then cast her out, refused to take her in. His wife forbade him to even call a physician.

  The First took her from death and gave her the gift of immortality. The lord and lady, who’d stood aside while she’d nearly bled to death after losing her child, met a tragic end soon after she was turned. Julian had no doubt she’d been the cause of their untimely, and vicious, demise.

  “Come here, my love.”

  She s
auntered over to him. He loved the fluid way she moved. Her hunger and desire reached him before she did. Towering over the now whimpering woman upon his bed, his lover laid claim to his mouth, making sure she pierced his bottom lips with her fangs to bring forth his blood.

  She broke the kiss and stepped back. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. It never failed to amaze Julian how no one suspected the viciousness hidden beneath her gentle façade. “You will be sharing her with me, won’t you darling?”

  When asked so sweetly, how could he not? “Of course.”

  Taking hold of the woman’s curls, he thrust her at his lover as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. The girl let out a scream when his lover took hold of her. Ah, what a wondrous sound it was.