Blood Redemption (24 page)

Despite his unease, Saber was listening carefully now. He was no longer rolling his
eyes or shrugging his shoulders. Whether Napolean realized it or not, Saber got the
seriousness of the situation. In fact, the full breadth of it, the weight it placed
on his exiled shoulders, was as foreign as it was revolting. To say he was a fish
out of water would have been the understatement of the century. Saber was a vampire
without a lair. A son without a father. A brother without a sibling.

He was a soldier without an army and a soul without a clue.

“I believe we have to try,” Napolean continued, bringing Saber back into the present
moment, “and that is the
only
reason I healed your wounds and stopped Marquis from sending you to the afterlife.
But you have to be willing to take direction. To stop lashing out long enough to do
some good.”

Saber clasped his hands together and rested his forehead on his thumbs. He closed
his eyes and simply concentrated on breathing. After a long moment of silence had
passed, he nodded. “I do get it.”

“Say it again.”

“I
do
get it.”

“Louder, Saber!”

“I get it, Napolean:
I get it
.”

Napolean exhaled slowly. “Then I think we understand one another.”

Saber kept his eyes cast downward, his vision focused like a laser, dead ahead, as
he and Napolean made their way through the front door of the clinic. They walked,
side by side, past the waiting room where Marquis, Ciopori, Nachari, and Ramsey paced
fitfully back and forth, casting blatant, hate-filled glances in Saber’s direction,
and down the long hallway to Exam Room Three, where Vanya awaited with Kagen for the
conversion.

Napolean had spent the last hour and a half with Saber, coaching him on the dangerous
procedure to come, going over every single aspect of what he had to do, every subtle
nuance of what he could expect, and Saber had listened and learned with keen attention
to detail. He had asked questions, envisioned various scenarios, and tried as best
he could to prepare himself for every eventuality.

Yet, he knew he wasn’t ready.

This could either go fairly well—which would still be defined as pain, torture, agony,
and a very close call—or this could go horrifically wrong. The fact that Marquis,
Nachari, and Ramsey would be waiting just outside the exam room to rip his throat
out should the conversion fail was hardly lost on him. The fact that Ciopori was being
kept out of the room for fear of her emotional reactions and consequent volatility
only made matters more dubious. The fact that Napolean had instructed all others in
the house of Jadon to stay away from the clinic, despite their intense emotional and
spiritual investment in the outcome, was at least a relief of sorts: Saber would not
have an audience for the conversion, and there would be nothing to distract him from
concentrating fully on the critical matter at hand—saving Vanya at all costs.

Saving his unborn child, if still possible.

Saber stopped short outside of the exam room and tapped his foot nervously on the
floor, trying to maintain his cool. He felt like the ground was shifting beneath him,
and his body just might begin to sway or, worse, topple over. He took a deep breath
and drew on his resolve.

“Are you ready?” Napolean asked him, placing a steadying hand ever so briefly on his
tense shoulder.

Saber shrugged it off instinctively—old habits were hard to break, and this was only
a momentary truce. He swallowed hard. “I think so.”

“Not good enough,” Napolean said.

“Yes,” Saber replied. “
Yes
.”

“Very well.” Napolean turned the handle and gently opened the door, extending his
other arm to usher Saber in first.

Oh, hell
, Saber thought as he took that first step and his gaze immediately locked with Kagen
Silivasi’s. The Ancient Master Healer was waiting just outside of a drawn curtain,
his arms crossed snug against his chest; his jaw locked down so tight if he bit down
any harder, his teeth might just crumble to dust; and his brow so furrowed, the lines
could provide Saber with a roadmap: straight to hell.

Saber swallowed his pride and attempted a nod. “Kagen.”

The healer’s dark brown eyes flashed crimson, only for a moment, and then they returned
to their rich, chocolate brown. “Saber.”
At least he hadn’t said Dark One—that was a start.

Saber turned his attention to the drawn curtain and the pregnant female lying just
beyond its veil. “Is she—”

Ready?
Kagen interrupted telepathically, clearly unwilling to expose Vanya to any part of
their conversation.
To suffer? To die? To see the likes of you as it happens? Doubtful.

Kagen!
Napolean’s censor was immediate and absolute.
There will be none of that
! N
ot right now
. Take caution:
I will not
admonish you twice
.

Kagen turned his attention to Napolean and nodded in assent. “Milord.” He spoke his
acquiescence out loud, and the matter was closed.

“Is he here?” A faint female voice echoed from behind the curtain; and Saber’s heart
skipped an unexpected beat—
w
hat was that all about
, anyway
?
Vanya was clearly nervous, in a lot of distress, and by the quivering tone of her
voice, she was also in a lot of discomfort.

Already.

Most likely from the rapidly progressing pregnancy.

“Yes, Princess,” Napolean answered immediately. And then, as if the other two were
not in the room, he strolled behind the curtain and began to speak to her in soft,
comforting tones. “I understand that Kagen has kept you at least somewhat comfortable
with a sedative for the last hour or so?”

“Of course,” Vanya responded, sounding regal as always. “’Tis not the last hour I’m
concerned about.”

Saber heard the soft rustle of a sheet, then the soft clasp of skin against skin,
and he knew that Napolean had taken her hand. “I know,” Napolean answered softly.
“And I’m sorry that you cannot remain sedated for the entire…procedure.”

Vanya chuckled softly then. Insincerely. “Procedure? Is that what we’re calling it
now?”

“Conversion,” Napolean corrected.

“
Attempted
conversion
,” Vanya amended, her voice wavering with the onset of tears.

“Shh, now. None of that.”
Was he stroking her hair?
It almost sounded like he was, but Saber couldn’t tell.

“I need only honesty between us right now, milord,” Vanya said. “I don’t think I can
bear it otherwise.”

“Of course,” Napolean answered. “Do you still have questions Kagen hasn’t answered?”

Vanya sighed loudly. “Just…just…if it’s not working…if you know…you see that it’s
not…” Her voice trailed off, and she had to struggle to collect herself. “Then don’t
wait too late. Bring Ciopori in, so she can say good-bye. She will…need that.”

Saber clenched and unclenched his fists.

Three times.

Trying to contain the errant energy swirling like a crosswind through his body. This
was madness. Insane.

Surreal
.

“I give you my word as your king,” Napolean answered.

Vanya choked back a sob. “Very well then. Is…is the dragon with you?”

Napolean sighed. “You know that he is; and I believe he is truly going to try on your
behalf.”

Saber could not take another moment of this. Driven by sheer grit, he took three giant
strides toward the curtain, swiftly pulled it back, and stepped to Vanya’s side. “I’m
here, and I am going to make this work. Or die trying.”

Vanya’s dusty rose eyes grew large, and her mouth fell open. Once she had recovered
from his hasty entrance, his sudden presence behind the curtain, she bit down on her
lower lip and murmured, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“No,” Saber argued. “Not
perhaps not
. You know as well as I do that your focus, your belief, is as critical to this conversion
as your body’s compliance.
It will be so
. That is the only acceptable outcome; and that is the only thought you will allow
in your head.”

“I don’t—”

“It will be so. Nothing else.” He locked his gaze with hers in an indomitable battle
of wills. “
Nothing else
.”

Vanya drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Forgive me, Dragon, but am I to believe that
you suddenly care?” Before he could answer, she placed an absent hand over her belly
and smirked. “Ah, but of course; I’m carrying your unborn son.”

Saber felt the impact of her words like a knife in the back, exactly as they were
intended.
Good, she would need that grit and fire to survive
. “Exactly,” he said, “and as you’re well aware, even a jackal will fight for its
young.” He leaned over the gurney then, so she could see the heat in his eyes. “I
am all that you believe and more, sweet Princess: heartless, cruel, and reared by
the devil himself. So be it. Then you know that I will try to save the offspring in
your belly; you know that I will fight like a thousand spawns of hell for what is
mine; and you know that I will not give Salvatore Nistor the satisfaction of achieving
his greatest desire, the victory of destroying an original princess. Not when he murdered
my father and my brother. Not when the desire for revenge is still so sweet on my
tongue. You know better than to trust my love…so trust my hate then. Trust what you
know.”

Napolean cleared his throat and took an uneasy step back. Clearly, the ancient king
was less than enamored with Saber’s approach, concerned that such a harsh tactic might
cause more harm than good; but he took one hard look into Saber’s eyes and let the
diatribe go. Perhaps the ancient monarch understood, or at least accepted, that Saber
was trying desperately to harness the only passion he knew how to work with, the one
thing that had fueled his life from the day Damien had first called him son: flagrant
defiance against anything that opposed him.

The king looked at Vanya, regarded her warily, but he didn’t speak up or interfere.

“Let us be done with this,” she said. “One way or the other. Let’s just do it.”

Now, this was something Saber understood. Standing upright, he rounded the gurney
and carefully lifted the princess into a seated position. Kagen ducked instinctively
beneath the curtain, and Napolean almost leapt toward him in reaction, but both males
quickly restrained their reactions.

Saber paid no notice.

He straddled the narrow cot in one smooth motion and drew the princess back against
his chest, locking his iron arms around her shoulders to hold her in place and...
comfort her
?

Lean into me, Vanya
, he whispered telepathically on a private bandwidth. Ever since he had taken her
blood, it was an easy feat.
Try if you can to relax, or at least not to fight
. He followed her breathing with his own, matching her every inhale and exhale breath
for breath, until he was at last leading the rhythm with a deep, hypnotic cadence
of his own.

And then he did something unexpected, even to himself.

He nuzzled her neck with his mouth, stroking back and forth against her delicate skin
with exquisite—unexpected—gentleness. His lips, then his jaw, then the smooth ivory
tips of his elongating fangs all caressed her jugular in turn, while he chanted softly,
almost indiscriminately, in her ear, speaking intuitively in the one ancient language
they both would understand: a single primordial song that would swell within their…souls.

“Fi linistita, micuta. Vino departe cu mine. Asculta vocea mea. Pluteste…pluteste…
departe. Totul este bine…
totul este bine
…totul va fi facut sa fie bine.”

Be still,
l
ittle
o
ne. Come away with me. Listen to my voice.
Float
…
float
…away. All is well…
all is well…
all will be made well
.

Vanya drifted slowly away.

Sinking ever more deeply into the burgeoning warmth enfolding her neck.

A dragon’s fire
.

Only this time, it wasn’t scorching her. It was enveloping her, soothing her, beckoning
her deeper and deeper into the apex of his lair. She felt her resistance waning, her
fear dissipating, her confusion fading. It was like her mind was suddenly hazy, filled
with soft, albeit grayish, clouds, and they simply overcame her distress with their
power.

Power?

By all the celestial gods
, where had Saber Alexiares acquired such power? When had a male from the Dark Ones’
Colony learned such focus, attained such skill? Vanya shuddered at the thought; he
was powerful beyond measure.

And dangerous.

Yes, of course, he was so very dangerous.

After all, isn’t this what he had done the night they had made love—
had sex
—in his cell? Overcame her will with his own? He had drawn her inexplicably, irrefutably,
into the turbulence of his soul, exacted the strength of his desire over her own until
she could no longer resist him.

Until she no longer wanted to resist him.

Until she had wanted to accept him.

Completely.

Her eyelids drifted down, growing increasingly heavy. She was so sleepy. She was so…content.
And then his incisors pierced her skin, sinking deeply into her jugular like a knife
slicing through warm butter. Effortless yet exacting.

He was so…in control.

And then the venom began to pump from his fangs, slowly at first, a sharp twinge,
like that from a syringe, stinging inside of her veins, burning, then searing.

She fought to sit upright, almost jolted out of her trance, but his arms tightened
around her, and his chest stiffened. He held her in an iron grasp, as unyielding as
it was unforgiving.

“Saber,” she cried out, beginning to feel the first perilous edge of panic.

Shh,
l
ittle
o
ne
, he whispered telepathically. And then he continued to chant.

Vanya knew that soon the pain would grow unbearable. Soon it would travel to her heart,
and Saber would be unable to keep up the communication throughout the conversion.
She would be on her own to endure…and survive…if the gods willed it. She tried to
settle in, to let go. To give her body, mind, and soul over to the dragon that held
her in his fiery clutches, but the pain was simply growing too intense.

The noise in her belly, for a lack of a better word, was beginning to grow more dissonant
as the unborn vampires began to respond to their father’s venom, to the assault of
conversion, and the upheaval of their rest.

The venom was traveling quickly now.

Too quickly.

And it was scorching, like acid, almost as if the will and the fire of the male who
wielded it had set it on a course of absolute and utter destruction. And, of course,
that was precisely what he was doing, destroying Vanya’s humanity one cell, one atom,
and one nucleus at a time, in order to remake her—to remake them all—as he was: Vampyr.

Dark.

Soulless.

No!
Vanya cried out within her soul, although no sound escaped her lips. Her teeth were
simply clamped down too hard to speak, her breath too shallow to feed oxygen to the
words. But she couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let this powerful…dark…dangerous…deadly
male infuse her with his very essence; yet she was powerless to stop him.

As the venom entered her heart, filling all four chambers in quick succession, she
began to writhe beneath him.
Great Cygnus
, this was beyond her endurance!

The pain.

The agony.

The power.

“Saber, please! Oh, please…stop!”