Crimson Reign (14 page)

With an ungodly oath, Malachi withdrew from the tight depths and flung himself away from the angel to pace the shadows. How did the male tolerate him, his sadistic attention? Blood, cum and arousal burned his nose. His cock still engorged and throbbing bobbed with each step he took. Coated thickly with his liquid desire and Laziel’s blood, it dripped in small puddles on the black tile floor. Harsh breathing permeated the air; his and Laziel’s, as they struggled to draw air into labored lungs. A scowl darkened Malachi’s savage yet beautiful face. Though he’d reached ejaculation, he was far from sated. The agonizing rage and pain still shredded his insides.

As if reading his thoughts, Laziel rose unsteadily from bruised knees after stooping to unbuckle the ankle restraints. Malachi watched impassively as Laziel stumbled in silence toward the table and crawled up on the cold marble to lay face up to the ceiling. The ball gag hit the floor, the sharp echo taunting Malachi’s dominant nature. There had been no order to remove the gag. Despite the candlelight and the distance separating them Malachi’s eyes fastened on the length of Laziel’s cock, slippery and glistening from his release and still bound by the chains and steel.

His gaze rose over a trembling chest to meet defiant eyes begging for more, yet unrepentant for his disobedience. For a second the eyes morphed and Malachi stared into Loz’s eyes. His mouth opened, her name danced on the edge of his tongue. Her words echoed in his head again. The angel blinked breaking the mirage and returned Malachi to his purpose. Knowledge lurked there. Knowledge that Malachi would not walk away, in fact could not walk away, despite the fact he’d broken the rules.

With a feral snarl, Malachi shoved Laziel’s feminine form far from his mind and hardened the ice circling his heart. There was no room in this life of theirs for either love or tenderness. There was even less room for dreams and hope. He knew not what she alluded to about what was being offered, but no matter what it was, Malachi could not take it. Resigned to the façade that purported to be his life, Malachi called again upon the pain and his anger. Stalking across the room, he reached for the flaming candle and the specially designed quirt. Despair and desolation rode him hard… He intended to ride the angel harder.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

A sound at the door brought Malachi’s head up from the reports fanned out over his desk. Before his gaze landed on his visitor, he knew it had to be the angel. Sure enough, Laziel leaned against the doorframe, jeans hanging low on his hips, unfastened per the norm and his thong of choice peeking through the zipper. Today’s choice, a bright lime green. An insolent knowing smile spread wickedly upon the angel’s lips.

“Finished tormenting the attending Elders, have you?” Malachi asked as his gaze fell back to the report received that morning from Synta’s region. He barely restrained the urge to fling the papers across the room; twenty five vampires, including eight children, missing and presumed dead from the Kyoto enclave.

“Waste of time, Darklon was a no show. The rest just stare at my ass.” Laziel slouched into a chair across from the desk and propped his legs over the arm. Paper rattled and the ever present green apple Jolly Rancher popped into his mouth.

“Could be because you flaunt it,” Lachi drawled. The angel snorted and re-positioned himself.

“Could be because it’s sexy as hell.” He tossed an unrepentant grin at Lachi and winked.

Malachi couldn’t disagree with that so he let it drop. “We lost another twenty-five in Kyoto.” The low remorseful comment sobered the Laziel.

“Any word from Arial?”

Malachi shook his head. “Nothing so far.”

A knock at the door drew both of their gazes. “Enter.”

The door swung open and Ms. Stroner pushed through a sealed manila envelope clutched in her hand. “I’m sorry Sire. His Excellency just stopped by and asked me to deliver this to you.” She skirted Laziel and kept her eyes firmly locked on Malachi as she traversed the room. “He said it was related to the matter you discussed last week.”

“Thank you, Kimberly. Was there anyone with him?”

“No, Sire. I thought it odd, but he seemed to be in a rush so I didn’t have time to ask any questions.” She hesitated before handing him the package. “Should I have opened it first to ensure your safety?”

“Honey, you wouldn’t have entered the room with it if it had been dangerous.” Laz’s lazy response succeeded in drawing her gaze to him. He appeared unconcerned and totally at ease, but where the angel was concerned looks were definitely deceiving. “I would have sensed any ill will.” He popped another hard candy into his mouth.

Ms. Stroner flushed and snapped her gaze back to Malachi. “My Liege, you asked me to remind you. The Elder’s Ball shall take place in two nights.” She cleared her throat and looked down. “I, umm, I do believe you are expected to arrive with a…with a date.”

Behind her, Laziel’s bare feet hit the floor. His eyes snapped to Malachi’s own, a warning in them.

“Thank you for the reminder, Kimberly. I had quite forgotten.” He hadn’t, but it made her feel useful to keep up with his day to day routine. “Please make sure your name plus one is included on the guest list; however, I have made arrangements for my companion for the evening.”

She smiled and inclined her head. “Shall I give the committee her name?”

“Loz. She’s been my escort in the past.”

Laziel surged to his feet. “Yo, Batman, we have a visitor in the Bat cave.”

Malachi mimicked his movement and circled the desk. Taking the envelope from his secretary, Malachi strode for the door. “Thank you, Kimberly. Please hold my calls and appointments. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.” Following Laziel from the room, he couldn’t resist a taunt. “So if I’m Batman, that means you must be my trusty sidekick, Robin.”

“Holy Latex, Batman, you wanna see my tights?” The laugh burst from Malachi before he thought about it.

“As a matter of fact, Boy wonder, I’d delight in relieving you of your tights, after we see if the bait was taken.”

Laziel slid past him and grasped the chapel door. “After you, your Battiness.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Shrouded by the darkness of Laziel’s private chapel, Arial casually eyed the flawless perfection of the small altar made of the most beautiful Serendibite. The exquisite black stone stood central to Laziel's sparsely clad chapel. Its splendor emphasized the vampire King’s love and care in choosing such a simple yet elegant stone for his angel to worship before. And, if the alter wasn't enough to set the Vatican's eyes alight should they ever chance to see it, the Jeremejevite crucifix inlayed with an exact replica of their beautiful Creator sure as hell would. Arial studied the cross.

The duplication of the Creator’s face was such a detailed piece that the work could only have ever been created by one who'd seen him. Arial's heart sank. How could he be here amongst the likes of the Creator’s chosen Seraphim when everything about him was cursed or stained? The mantel of Arial's despair bore heavy on his heart, and immediately, he was thrown back to the fateful night when, on his knees, he'd sworn an oath to Laziel and the vampire King; one born of loyalty and truth, wherein Arial pledged to fight for the side of the righteous. And, he hoped that when the time came, his allegiance to the Creator’s angel would one day count toward the salvation of his own fallen soul.

When light from the crystal cut of the crucifix reflected off the altar's smooth faceted surface to send a subtle rainbow of purity streaming across the shimmering surface, he hesitantly approached the ornate altar and gently positioned himself to kneel before the crucifix of his one and only judge. Tears of shame swam unbidden in his soulless eyes and fell as black and foul as the hellish demon's souls he'd been cursed to devour. Head bowed, Arial offered the same blessings of prayers that he'd always made. Even now, after centuries of walking the Earth as the cursed and damned, Arial still held his loyal affliction deep within his tainted heart.

“Suck it up tiny tears, unless you want Lachi to see what a fucking pansy assed fairy you've turned out to be. Batman and I will be through that door in…oh let me see…three, two…” Laziel’s voice cut through Arial's thoughts and brought the Fallen up to his full height. He wiped away the ink like stains smearing his face and snarled back a bitter reply.

“There's only one fucking fairy around here, motherfucker, or should I call you Tinkerbelle?”

“Now, Fallen, is that any way to welcome your host?” Laziel’s sarcasm was, as always, the angel's preferred method of communication, one Arial would have loved to answer. But, as the two males strode through the door, the look of disdain on Malachi's face was one Arial wouldn't push. He'd heard many a rumor of Malachi Denali's possessive nature where Laziel was concerned, and even though Arial had never witnessed any form of attachment between them to prove anything, he couldn't deny the feeling of unity and togetherness that flowed between the Seraphim and the vampire King.

Their loyalty to each other was beyond admirable, and if there was truth to the rumors about them being more than mentor and student, then Arial wasn't interested in seeing whether those rumors were true. He'd stand beside them through any war, for together, Laziel and Malachi had gifted the Fallen with their own form of redemption.

Gracing Malachi with a curious bow of the head, Arial turned and stalked toward the far wall of the chapel where two small pews sat facing the ornate altar. There Arial waited until Laziel, followed by the King, took seats side by side, their thighs pressed firmly against each other’s in a show of unfamiliar public affection. His earlier thoughts about the rumors fanned but he shoved them back. Still, Arial couldn't stop his gaze from fixating upon the two heavily muscled males seated before him. Just for a moment, the area above his heart lurched with an agonizing ache that no amount of years walking the Earth searching for the one that beguiled him could ever lessen or take away. Arial had been such a fool.

Consigned by his father with the keys to Hell’s gate, Arial faltered in his path toward the glorious ranks of the angel hierarchy. Oh how easily he'd succumbed to the sin of the unknown. All it had taken was the touch from the lips of another for Arial's once angelic heart to be torn in two, and for him to be stripped of his once beautiful wings. He'd been weary for so long, sickened by his mother’s rancid curse to feed on the pestilent offerings of Hell’s hidden spawn.

“Feel weary no more my beloved brother. One’s heart holds no foul. The Creator forgives where the unjust fail, be worthy to your own beliefs for they will hold you firm within your darkest of times.” Laziel’s soothing words in the ancient tongue echoed in his mind and tightened Arial's chest, restricting his ability to breath. “You have never been Fallen within my eyes brother. You only feel the weight of your punishment due to the one whom sanctioned it. Be at ease…breathe, and tell your liege the matter which brings you here.”

Arial drew in several deep and needed breaths then sank down to take the pew opposite. He turned and placed heavily booted feet upon the highly polished wood.

“My liege, I bear news concerning one who means you ill will.” Arial's eyes flickered hesitantly between Malachi's hard stare and the serene ocean of warmth emanating from the celestial. Laziel’s compassionate air was a rarity; one that served to have an enormous effect on the Fallen's sense of worth. Arial bit back the rolling wash of pride threatening to consume him and leaned back against the cool solidity of the hard chapel wall.

The Fallen’s loyalty toward the one he now served was an honor to uphold. But, as he turned his head to face an impatient King and a brethren angel, the fear of disclosing the madness of Darklon's depraved and wretched plans speared Arial with such an impending burden of fear, he actually shivered. Sweat glistened across the Fallen's face and then trickled down his smooth unmarred flesh.

“To say I was surprised this Elder of yours took the bait so soon and then appeared to me himself is an understatement, but one thing’s for sure. This cocksucker won't rest until he sees you drained dry.”

A low growl vibrated the air and caused the hairs on the back of Arial's thick neck to stand at end. When his gaze fell upon the eyes of the vampire's King, he met a void of darkness that reeked with tortured vehemence. The level of hatred and scorn etched on Malachi's angry bronzed face barely scratched the surface of the fury Arial sensed growing within. This was the reasoning behind Arial's fear. Never had he witnessed such loathing and contempt aimed at one individual, a person Arial mentally admitted to himself deserved all he'd reap.

When the atmosphere within the chapel churned the bile in Arial's gut, it was Laziel who quelled the beast’s deathly rage. Without a thought to Arial's presence, Laziel smoothed his hand familiarly over the hard flexing muscles of Malachi's thick thigh. Slowly, the Seraphim kneaded and gripped the taught flesh, exacting just the right amount of pressure to earn a low rolling moan of unintentional pleasure from the vampire Kings slightly parted lips. The look that passed between the two powerful preternaturals held so much heat, Arial quickly diverted his gaze to look away from the powerfully erotic display of Laziel's erogenous touch. But, not before the slightest whimper of need from Laziel reached the Fallen's sensitive ears.

Here was the proof beyond absolution that the rumors were true. Laziel, the mighty Seraphim, and the Creator’s right hand had fallen… more than just a little… in love. Arial vowed to himself he would die before anyone learned their secret from him.

While he waited for their notice again, a warming scent of amber enveloped the chapel. Such was the soothing balm of the bouquet; it eased the Fallen's spiraling fears. Arial recognized the scent; he'd smelled it once before, a long time ago. Its significance was real, a signature, a drenching of angelical essence that was only identifiable to the seraphim, the Creator’s last mighty angel from a once vast army of warrior elite.

Arial outwardly gasped when the feeling of undiluted power ran over his skin. His back arched away from the wall and his eyes snapped up and widened with amazement on seeing the pulse of light encompassing Laziel and the vampire King. Its ambient glow drank in the darkness of Malachi’s anger by connecting them mentally mind to mind in an age old enactment where the coupling of souls joined two life mates together, one marking the other with the saturating scent of the angel's actual essence. Arial had only heard tales of it; had never seen it done before. There was no ordinary bond between Laziel and Malachi; their union transcended the bounds of the Earth.