He pushed himself up from the bed and added pointedly, “And everything that you want.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek, whispering there, “I am particularly fond of the skimpy little satin and lace items that go under all those clothes, so I would consider those a need.” Cole tilted her face up to his and kissed her slow and easy, “In fact, something in every style, in every color should be sufficient. I’ll not be letting you out of my bed for at least the two weeks, Witch.”
She blushed, as he had intended her to, and nodded her understanding. Cole gave her one more light kiss and ordered, “Get some sleep. I’ll be back for you tonight.” He was gone.
Nicholas still had the smile of pleasure on his face when he appeared in his kitchen. He was not just satisfied at a plan nearly well concluded, but he was actually content. Tonight had nothing to do with the fact that he was keeping this witch from the Light. He was happy with Ella. Regardless of what she was to the Realm, she was his.
Her excitement for the life she was planning to build with him had sparked something in him. It was a feeling he had not experienced during his immortality. Ella was truly enchanting; she could challenge him and be defiant, but she was also pure and true and lovely. Most importantly, she loved him. He could see that in every glance, every soft touch. The Realm and its happenings held substantially less significance to him now than just a month ago. The more time he spent with Ella, the more it made him believe there might be a day when he would not return to the Realm.
Nicholas had most certainly gained Rhydach’s notice over the amount of time he had been absent from his role in leading the Dark forces these past weeks. Since being released from that torturous prison a century after his transition, he had never been one to kneel down to Rhydach in fear and over time it had become unnecessary. He had gained strength and power of his own, earning him the heralded Warrior of Dark title just a few centuries into his immortality. Rhydach was wise enough not to try to put the restrictions on him that he did most of his warriors. For that reason, Nicholas knew it would require some maneuvering, but if he played it well, he could leave the Realm behind in time.
Nicholas was surprised when he found Dunkirk in his kitchen looking tense with no bourbon to cap off the night. His friend was outfitted in war gear. Looking haggard, the giant’s voice was curt and there was no greeting, “Where the hell have you been Nicholas? Rhydach is crazed, demanding your attendance immediately. We have a problem.”
Shaking his head, Nicholas was sarcastic, “Rhydach gets undone if Lorcan sneezes overmuch. He can wait Dunkirk; I am not in the mood to have him ruin my night.”
Dunkirk rushed on, his agitation evident, “You have a phone, the least you could do is answer…” Trailing off when Nicholas’s response registered, Dunkirk eyed him speculatively, “The witch is yours?”
Nicholas slid the phone from his pocket, noting the nineteen missed calls, all from Dunkirk. Raising a brow at that, he maneuvered the settings to take the phone off silent-mode and then slowly nodded, “Near enough for me to say that there is no worry that she will ever return to the Realm. I’ll have her vows by this time tomorrow.”
Dunkirk shook his head, hating to deliver the news, “It may need to wait, Nicholas; you must return without delay. Turloch’s premonitions have come to pass. The Light may well eradicate the Dark if we cannot regain the upper hand. Time is of the essence. From what we have ascertained, the balance of power now rests firmly with the Witch faction.”
Nicholas knew Dunkirk was not one to exaggerate; there must be some heavy significance to what had occurred for his friend to be so dire. The talk of the shift of power was enough to stoke the fire of hatred that he carried for the Light, obliterating all other rational thought for the moment. His demeanor immediately changed, his expression hardening with his demand, “Tell me.”
Dunkirk folded his arms over his chest, looking fierce in his battle attire, “The Witch…the Chosen…is alive. Wherever she has been hiding, she has returned and the strength of her magic is immense. She destroyed three Dark holdings and massacred the occupants. Only a handful of survivors were left within the fortresses. The destruction is mind blowing Nicholas, I have surveyed it myself.”
When Nicholas only looked at him in brooding silence, Dunkirk ran a restless hand through his wild red hair. His eyes were heavy and dark, “Before it began, Turloch sensed a magical power rising. He claimed it was the strongest force he had ever felt. With him being an Ancient, that is a significant statement. Turloch lived in the age of the Queens and the magnitude of what he felt tonight was greater than any of those females. The reports of the destruction came in a short time later.”
Dunkirk grimaced, an image of the aftermath flashing through his mind, “Kaitriana is very much alive according to the accounts of those surviving witnesses. She took out Blackmore and Westin’s holdings and both of those Ancient leaders along with them.”
Nicholas only grunted an answer to that, clenching his fists as he tried to process the information. Dunkirk hated delivering the next bit, “She also leveled Bellkirk and probably would have destroyed you as well if you had been in attendance with your men. You are now the only high General that remains in Rhydach’s forces. The Darks are in utter chaos tonight and Rhydach is maniacal.”
Nicholas cursed, slamming his fist against the counter, cracking the stone. The loss of one of his strongholds along with many of his best men hit him hard, enraging him, “How the bloody hell did this happen? Blackmore reported that the witch died five hundred years ago. Where has she been?” Infuriated, eyes blackening, Nicholas slammed his fist into the counter once more before continuing with his rant, “Unless Blackmore lied, the girl was drained and did not survive the transition.”
Dunkirk shrugged, he could not fathom this unlikely shift of events either, “Rhydach wants you to find out. Blackmore is dead; he cannot give us those answers. He was the girl’s target based on the accountings we heard. She claimed it was retribution for slaying her parents. The witch was seeking him specifically and Blackmore died an agonizing death. There was no mercy in Kaitriana, no Dark in her path tonight found mercy. If the Chosen can bring this kind of destruction to the Dark in a single night by herself…if she gathers the Vampire and the Witch Castes of the Light to her, they will destroy us all.”
Nicholas nodded, rage taking his features. His witch would indeed have to wait; he could send explanation to her tomorrow. He would not allow the Light to triumph, not at this time.
CHAPTER 15
Ella woke very early that morning. With so much to do in preparation for that night, she could not have remained abed past dawn. As it was, even starting her day at that hour, she was scurrying around her apartment in the late afternoon, attempting to finish all that she would need done before Cole came to retrieve her.
She packed four bags with everything that she could possibly need for the next week, including all of the incredible lingerie that her dear Vamp had suggested she needed. Cole would not be disappointed.
The most amazingly perfect dress, well worth the small fortune she had paid, was hanging in the bag next to her belongings. She wanted to change into it at their home tonight. She had also gotten more than a few new pairs of shoes, including white, four-inch heel, Manolo satin and feather pumps. She could hardly bear to take those off her feet; they would be splendid with her dress. It had been such an unreal experience to shop freely, without thought given to budget or being excessive. The three dozen white rosebuds, in a bouquet tied off simply with a length of emerald satin ribbon, had arrived just an hour ago and were sitting in the middle of her table in a vase for the time being.
Earlier that afternoon, she had lighted from her taxi with bags and packages in tow and taken great delight in telling the landlord troll that she would be vacating his hellhole posthaste. Ella had taken even greater delight in confirming, in those exact same words, with a note later slipped in his mail slot. The only pause she had that day had been the pang of regret about leavi
ng her workplace so suddenly. She had good friends there and for the most part it had not been a bad gig.
After a very late lunch, she finished a long soak in the tub and began her preparations for that night. Ella debated for some time, but finally decided that she would put full curls in her long hair and leave it down to complement the cut of the gown. Just as dusk settled, she put the finishing touches on her makeup, wearing more than her norm. She had given her eyes a smoky look with a deep shade of metallic green that served to accent them beautifully and had even taken the time to line them before adding her mascara. With a final sweep of blush across her cheekbones and a light shade of gloss on her lips, she was near ready.
Donning the beautiful white satin lingerie she had picked for under the dress, Ella dragged on a pair of comfortable yoga pants, a zippered hoodie and flip flops so that she could easily change once Cole took her home. He would probably need to make a couple of trips to gather all of her things, which would afford her enough time to finish getting dressed.
An hour later, she was pacing in the confines of her apartment. She reasoned that Cole would have preparations of his own to make. He was always spoiling her and so incredibly thoughtful in the small details, but the delay was making her anxious. Ella poured herself a glass of wine to calm her anxiety and then had a second after the next hour ticked by. Snatching up a book from the pile in the corner, she curled up in her reading chair, only to set it down after a few minutes.
Ella finally went to her bedroom and retrieved her phone from her purse. Pulling up his number, she experienced a wave of nausea and a sense of dread settled over her when the call went immediately to the voicemail message, indicating that the mailbox was full. She followed the call with a text, but her worry was overwhelming. She had no additional way to reach Cole. She knew with his association with the Darks in the Realm that he may well be involved in something that could have ended horribly. Ella poured her third glass, gulping down the contents without tasting them in an effort to soothe her frayed nerves.
It was nearing eleven when she began to doze in her chair, the wine having taken effect, overcoming the fretfulness enough to put her into a fitful slumber. When the rap came at the door a few hours later, she roused quickly, relief flooding her. She stumbled when she lurched out of her chair, smacking her knee into the center of the table and nearly displacing the vase of roses. Ella was muttering a curse when she swung the door open. Her senses were still dulled from the wine so it did not cross her mind that Cole no longer knocked.
She had been expecting to see his face and the shock of seeing Dunkirk in his stead, dressed for battle, nearly dropped her to her knees. Dunkirk felt for the girl, he could see the color drain from her. He made a grab to keep her from sagging to the floor, only to be held at bay by the protective force of the magic surrounding her apartment. Her voice was barely a whisper, terror in her eyes as she reached forward and touched his arm, “Dunkirk, tell me…is Cole…please tell me he is okay.” Her eyes brimming with tears that quickly.
Dunkirk only granted her a single nod, his expression stony because he could not allow the witch to see how her upset was affecting him. He knew he was going to do bodily injury to Nicholas for sending him on this errand though, “Aye, Cole has been called to the Realm. He will be back for you when he is able.”
She looked confused for a moment, then anger and no small amount of pain warred in her eyes, “When he is able? Are you lying to me Dunkirk? What does that mean? So help me, if you are lying, I will burn you until not even those pointy teeth of yours remain.”
He witnessed the flicker of flame dance over her fingertips, giving credence to her threat. He frowned at her, but gentled his tone, “Cole has duties in the Realm, great responsibilities. There has been a significant happening, he is needed, and he cannot be here tonight. He is unable to say when he may return and wanted me to tell you that he will come to you when he has matters settled there.”
More flame jumped into her palms and Dunkirk was getting edgy when she hissed, “His duties are so great that he could not take the time explain it to me himself? His responsibilities…meaning that his Dark affiliates mean more to him than I do, Dunkirk? He had me turn my life upside down today and then could not be bothered to advise me that there had been a change in plans?”
Her eyes were sparkling so much they appeared covered by that eerie green glow but he noted with some relief that she had reined her fire in, “What are we talking here, Dunkirk? A couple of days, a week, a month?”
Every time she said his name so pointedly, he cringed, and every time he spoke it served to only increase the anguish in her eyes, “Lass, it could be a week, it could be six. I cannot say with any certainty. The Darks took a major blow last night and it has been chaotic, else Cole would have sent me to you sooner.”
There was fury in her expression, but it did not mask from him the defeat and the incredible sadness, “He would have sent you sooner… I was an afterthought and he would not have come himself, regardless.” She gave him a weak smile; there was no ire in her towards him, “I think, Dunkirk, that tells me all I need to know, does it not? Do they not tell us to fear that which is too good to be true?” One of those tears escaped from the corner of her eye.
Dunkirk just stood still; he did not know what to say to the girl. He was almost relieved when she asked him softly, “Will you give him a message for me?”
He nodded gravely, but his face mirrored his shock when she extended her middle finger and said evenly, “Tell the bastard that I said to piss off. I should have roasted him the first time around.” She slammed the door on him.
Dunkirk heard the sound of shattering glass but he knew he could not reach the girl to see if she was alright. He did not really dare to venture in on a pissed off Fire Witch either. Her nasty little message would have been more effective if she had not had tears spilling down her cheeks. Those tears nearly did him in. He would have snatched her and dragged her back to the Realm to confront Cole herself if there had not been serious risk to her by bringing her into the populace of the Darks.
He had grown fond of Ella. He was definitely going to deliver the message to Nicholas, accompanied by a good kick in his backside, but he would not tell him of her tears. Screw him, he did not deserve to know the lass had wept like a babe when Nicholas broke her.
CHAPTER 16
For three weeks following his desertion, Ella wallowed in despair but clung to the hope that Cole would realize the graveness of his error in putting the needs of his Dark allies over hers. She kept herself going by envisioning him apologetic and begging for her vows. In fantasy land she eventually forgave him and lived happily ever after. Holding tight to that imagined outcome, she made it the first month, though she barely ate and only managed a few fitful hours of sleep at a time. She hadn’t even had enough spirit left in her to argue with the slime lord when he had told her that her new rent, since she was now choosing to stay in the ‘hellhole’ apartment, was doubled. Ella had him bill the next 6 month’s payments to the credit card Cole had left with her.
On the one month anniversary of the night that should have been her vow ceremony with him, her fury towards Cole returned full force. She texted Holly and prepared for a night of clubbing, outfitting herself in one of the fabulous dresses she had bought using Cole’s money. The last thing she did before leaving was tug the ring off her finger and toss it carelessly on top of the wedding dress that she had long since thrown into a heap in the corner of her bedroom. Ella bar hopped the night away with her friend, refusing to acknowledge any questions regarding the status of her relationship with Cole. With her frail state being quite obvious Holly, for once, did not push.
Ella used that fine black card to pay for her stumbling drunken adventures that night and most nights of the next six weeks that followed. She would sleep off the effects each day, spend a few hours toiling in some trendy boutique purchasing extravagant items and then begin again. All the while she hoped that Cole choked o
n his tongue when he received the statement detailing her outrageous purchases. Although she found no real pleasure in going out, she flirted outrageously, which at least was a distraction. It was only in the cab rides home that the melancholy began to nip at the edges of her reality, but she always managed to make it to her bed before she broke down in her pillow each night.
It was Saturday and she was making her tipsy-way from a very nice Irish pub where she had been well entertained by some very nice Irish boys. Heading across the street to a trendy little dance bar that she thoroughly enjoyed, planning to meet up with Holly and a few other friends, she was startled when Dunkirk appeared at her side. He grabbed at her arm to steady her as she tottered over the curb.
Ella shot him a brilliant, if empty, smile and pointed to her four inch heels, “Fabulous…and expensive, courtesy of your ass-leech friend. Not so good for pub crawling, I suppose.” She shook off his hand and straightened, “What do you want, Dunkirk?” Wobbling a bit, she looked back over her shoulder to her destination before returning her attention to him.
“You need to go home lass,” he was frowning mightily at her. Dunkirk had been watching her for the past hour, he had been checking in on her as often as he could over the past months. She was in no condition to continue on, much less be making her way home alone that night. Ella was gaunt and her skin was so pale she could have been of his own breed. The devastating mess Nicholas had left behind sickened him.
She shoved her hair back from her face before settling both hands on her hips. Arching a brow, her eyes sparkled green in a flash of fury that echoed in her whisper, “I do not recall asking your opinion.” Ella made to turn from him and head towards the entrance, “Piss off, Vampire.”
Forsaken (Ancients of Light #1) Page 13
