Crimson Reign (2 page)

The instant Lachi's violent temper plateaued into less of a raging storm, Laziel knew he'd somehow caged the torrid swell of his emotions and pushed them into the darkest depths of his vampiric soul. Relieved, Laziel absorbed the cacophony of chaos and noise echoing throughout the lower chamber. Its distracting pandemonium was a far cry from the human breed living above them. They carried on in blissful ignorance with the mundane chores of their daily lives, oblivious to the fact that situated far beneath them, deep below the catacombs of the Vatican; a secret race thrived driven by the thirst for power and the need for blood. Oh, some of them knew, the upper echelons of their society, the kings, the presidents, the dictators, the church leaders, they knew about the treaty that kept the supernatural world a child’s nightmare instead of reality. But, the everyday Joe Blow meandered through their mundane lives unaware and through their ignorance most remained safe.

Often in the early years as Lachi rose through the rungs of chamber seats to grow into the embodiment of his vampiric powers, Laziel wondered why. Why would Rome, home to the hierarchy of human religion, be used to house the most powerful and dangerous of the vampire race? Beneath the Vatican of all places? As Malachi's regime and ability to rule rose in conjunction with his own heightening powers, it came as a shock to Laziel when, upon presiding on one of Lachi's many Council meetings, the very same question had been proposed.

The Elders, some aged a thousand plus years, laughed at the question posed by Darklon di Sangue. It was only the notoriety of the aforementioned vampire's eccentric nature that guaranteed the answer Darklon sought. What's more, the response Darklon received made perfect sense to Laziel and Lachi. The age old cliché 'keep your friends close but your enemies even closer' was indeed coined by the vampire race. That in itself was the power of reasoning behind their King hiding under the skirts of the very race that had made them into the sick and romantic fantasy of fiction and branded them the sadistically tormented creatures nightmares were made of.

They were the monsters.

Like a dam bursting its banks, the bitter tide of anger finally erupted from its source with a deafening, thunderous roar.

“ENOUGH! You will be seated NOW or leave. DO NOT make me repeat my words.” Abrupt silence fell across the chamber, bringing with it the noxious aftertaste of fear. In that one moment as Lachi's anger washed over the flesh of his emissaries, it made no difference to their level of power or their age, for before them stood their King. He was their strength, their righteous peer, and the savior of their race. His very demeanor commanded their respect.

Laziel’s pride soared, filling the well of his angelic heart with mounting respect and desire. And, as he stepped closer to lightly rest a palm at the center of Lachi's broad muscular back, the vampire he'd trained to fight and taught to live relaxed back against the sure touch of familiarity. However, unlike a tutor bestowing respect to its pupil, Laziel’s touch was born of intent and the need to feel the flesh of the warrior wrapped neatly within the fine threads of a very beautifully tailored Dolce silk shirt.

The celestial's touch, so solitary in its meaning, instantly appeased the vampire’s anger, quelling Lachi's intention to rise to his feet and exact punishment upon the mass of his Council for their blatant show of disrespect. Instead, Lachi pushed out a slight bolt of his power, hinting with just a minor faction of his anger at what they challenged with the sharpness of their questioning tongues. The return hissing sting at their recognition of the level of Lachi's supremacy was enough to bring a smirk of self-justification to the vampire's face. The hard stare along with the hint of Lachi's ferocious nature instantly fuelled the allure of Laziel’s hardening sex.

Right on cue, as if Lachi could sense the change emanating from Laziel, he turned. The heat and authority radiating from the depths of Lachi's inflexible black glare slammed into Laziel like a wrecking ball, adding to the flames of his burning obsession for the sins of Lachi’s rippling flesh.

The vampire belonged to Laziel.

In the early years when the dawning realization of Laziel’s feelings for Lachi first surfaced, there hadn't been an explosion of metaphysical angst wherein the angel declared undying love. Instead of the colorful expo that came with love's blessings, his adore simmered and grew in magnitude. It increased in its potency over the multitude of decades spent alongside each other, until the painful yearning for more became almost too much even for the angel to bear.

The physical need to love Lachi consumed Laziel’s celestial soul, urging him to face the dire consequences attributed to consummating such an affliction of love, if in fact it would be returned.

In the beginning, Laziel, an angel holding power beyond recognition, troubled over the yearning desires. Night after night, he sought solace, pacing the lengths of the darkened catacombs in his masculine form while fighting against the rise of emotion beating hard against the chasm of a heart he had long thought void of such craving. But, as per the norm, there was nothing about Laziel or the depth of feelings burning inside his celestial heart that came easy. For unbeknownst to Lachi's legions, there was a different side to the angel, Laziel.

What Lachi's minions witnessed on a day to day scale was only a tempered down part of what made up the celestial's status and form. Laziel, after all, was androgynous, a gift that deemed the celestial with no particular dominating sexual gender. In fact, Laziel’s abilities worked out to be pleasurable, advantageous and versatile to the vampire King’s needs. But, fear and the unwillingness to concede to the pent up well of carnal hunger rode roughshod over the more subordinate half of Laziel’s psyche much to the bitter ire of his feminine counterpart. Steeped in the terror of its depth of emotion, Laziel trained daily to keep a firm grip on the instincts constantly threatening to rise inside his celestial form. Every time the imminent presence overwhelmed the angel’s senses, Laziel dominated the surging urge and tamped down the curse of its feminine affliction.

Lachi, for all his sadistic tastes and violent intentions toward others, accepted and embraced with vigor everything for which the angel stood. More than used to the angel's dual persona, the vampire showed a rare flicker of compassion whenever Lorenza or Loz… as Lachi liked to refer to Laziel's more subordinate female form… fought through to the surface.

It was the presentation of the angel’s feminine form adorning the arm of the vampire King that fooled the court Elders. They attended all of the elite court functions parading as a loving couple and duping Lachi's nemesis, Darklon, into thinking there would one day be a union between the two. Their pairing softened the whiplash of the court's insinuations and expectations. Unbeknown to them, Laziel masqueraded before them, using the power of his celestial's ability to choose forms. In addition, Laziel pushed the thoughts into their self-centered minds that the intoxicating female adorning their King's arm was vampire. The masquerade only accentuated the confounded desire of the angel’s emotional sanctum.

An inner voice called to Laziel. The rise of his emotions and feelings grew stronger in nature; far stronger than Laziel was used to, and blossomed into an unyielding affliction that bore an ache into the core of Laziel’s celestial heart. It fixated his intentions solely on the male who'd grown into an almighty force of strength, courage, loyalty and grace. Laziel fought a war against the affliction, burying it deep, keeping his yearning for more his darkest secret.

Laziel knew Lachi, knew more than anyone what defined the vampire, what fed him and his desires. The image of Lachi, slick with sweat after one of his torturous sessions, involving the sting of a whip or the bite of a chain, brought Laziel to heel. The angel mercifully explained to Lachi on many an occasion all about endurance and the satisfactory ramifications of pleasure and pain. But, for Lachi, those same methods carried through to the more carnal parts of his vampiric desires.

Many a night, Laziel bore witness to the vampire King's ravenous explorations and sexually assertive nature. Oh, Laziel enjoyed those moments. The angel, in Lachi’s preferred male form, filled his cesspit of yearning with a delicious abundance of lascivious need, a menagerie of want, desire and lust. And, on top of that, Laziel heaped on a double helping of sacrificial love. Shit, he had it bad. And didn't that just brighten his mood. If anything, it turned Laziel darn right nasty.

The relationship they shared was both complicated and exclusive. Unlike the human’s topside that dabbled in the art of bondage and BDSM, Laziel and Lachi held no use for safe words or dominant versus subservient roles. To Laziel, it was more than being a willing recipient of Lachi’s deviant attention. He was the only one capable of taking the brutality of the vampire King’s predilection for sating his anger via the infliction of pain. It was what made them tick, their way of giving and receiving, the only remote emotion they allowed themselves. The bite of the whip or the crack of a cane was nothing to Laziel who'd fought wars. This was his gift. The only thing he could offer to Lachi that the vampire King was willing to accept. For Laziel, the infliction of the pain Lachi dealt him was nothing compared to the ache he felt from the burden of unrequited love.

Laziel used the staining of his addiction to his best advantage. After Lachi exerted himself, sating his need and covering them both in the heat of melted wax, or flayed the skin of Laziel’s rippling flesh with the sting of a whip, Laziel trained. He dragged his shattered, broken heart to the brink of exhaustion, by taking Lachi to the war room where they battled through a torturous regime of punches, kicks, dagger blows and more. Their exertions drew pools of crimson blood and sweat from every pore. Lachi's body ached and Laziel’s heart screamed for more; more pain to overwhelm the torrential ache residing in his heart. A pain that some five hundred years later, burned hotter than the Earth’s molten core.

Over time feelings had changed. At present, they were a union, a consolidated force of power and strength that nothing, not the Court fools before them or the powers above dared to break apart. The words Laziel's Creator forewarned on the day Lachi first breathed upon the Earth echoed just as clearly as they did that first day. “The ties of life you bind yourself to will only ever be broken by the joint ending of your union of light.”

Laziel’s hand shifted and came to rest on the shoulders of the King and gripped him hard. Leaning in, Laziel whispered, his breath was deep and husky as it tantalized the hairs on Lachi's neck. “Let’s blow this place…there's something that needs your attention more. And, I don't think it wants to wait.” Raising a brow to Lachi's questioning face, Laziel gave a most wicked grin and then stood back to wait.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Sprawled in the opulent gilded chair the vampire race reserved for their King, Malachi Denali surveyed the cackling idiots that made up most of his Elder Council. The incessant posturing of the Elders partnered with their asinine opinions grated along Malachi’s nerves. He detested these quarterly gatherings almost as much as he loathed the pompous asses filling the plush leather chairs. Tension coiled in his muscles, a vice banding his broad shoulders beneath the black silk shirt he'd donned specifically for the meeting. It perfectly matched the custom fitted black Dolce and Gabbana trousers hugging his thighs. For himself, he preferred his black leather pants, black tee and biker boots. He rarely made concessions for the meetings, but tonight, he'd swallowed his abhorrence and dressed the part of the King. His eyes raked the room again. Only one or two of the assembled garnered his respect.

Most were outdated fools who refused to integrate their enclaves into the twenty-first-century. At every corner, Malachi faced opposition and stubbornness. Were he to have his way, the faction milling about before him flapping their gums in a severe case of one-up-manship would be stripped of their seats and banished from his Court. They did nothing to preserve their race.

Temper simmering at the boiling point and filled with restless energy, Malachi, nonetheless, reclined still as stone after his one growling outburst. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Laziel’s husky voice slid into his ear smooth as molasses. The whispered words snaked a path from his ears to his groin, filling him instantly. Only the presence of the Elders kept him from grabbing the hand on his shoulder and pulling the angel down into his lap.

Nearly two centuries had passed since he and Laziel leapt from comrades to lovers. He still marveled at the change in their relationship. He'd been much as he was at the moment, anger roiling through his system, in desperate need of release. A release only the sadistic pleasure of a bound and willing partner gave him. He'd been headed out to find what he needed when the angel stopped him. The offer that fell from celestial lips had floored him.

“Use me.” Laziel’s words from that night echoed in his mind. Malachi had stood stunned, unaware the angel knew of his proclivities. He'd shaken his head and backed away, unwilling to see the censure within the angel's eyes. Shame, a rare emotion, swept over him, and he hadn't been able to meet Laziel's pleading gaze. But, the angel already knew. Why that surprised him he never understood. Laziel knew everything. With quiet determination, the angel had taken his hand and led him into the room at the bordello. Head bowed, Laziel knelt at Malachi's feet and offered himself yet again.

It had taken every ounce of courage Malachi could muster to accept what Laziel offered that night. He knew standing there looking down on that bowed head that everything would change depending on his next move. He didn't regret picking up the whip. Never, in all the years that passed, had he ever regretted it. Now, he knew Laziel’s body as well as he knew his own. Each ridge and valley of muscle had been explored by lips, fangs, tongue and fingers. Malachi's whip knew the glorious taste of the angel's blood.

His temper spiked again at being denied that which he wanted the most. His angel. Sensing Malachi's escalating temper, Laziel squeezed and pressed down, keeping Malachi firmly in his seat. For all his taunting, the angel wanted Malachi right where he was: on the throne of the vampire race. From his earliest memories, two things were constant in Malachi's life, Laziel and the incessant training to achieve the throne where he now sat. However, it was only the solid weight of the angel's hand on him that kept Malachi from projecting himself out of the Council Chambers and into the night. The pressure was a tangible reminder of his duty; a duty he fulfilled, yet never asked to be given. Most times, only his loyalty to the one standing stoic and proud just behind his left shoulder kept him from tossing in the towel and leaving the sniveling bastards to fend for themselves.