Crimson Reign (24 page)

“Yet for the young one, you spoke of free will, choices. Am I so abhorrent to your Creator that I am to be a slave to his master plan?” Malachi snapped his mouth shut. He'd revealed too much. He tried to spin away, but Laziel caught his shoulders and turned him back so they stood face to face.

“The Creator loves you as you are. You do not see yourself as he does, nor as I do. You were wrong just now, telling Roman you do not have a heart.” Laziel raised a hand and rested it against Malachi's left pec. “It's there, though you try to bury it beneath a thick layer of ice. It's why Mendeeto’s death affects you so, and it's why you fight the Nephilim so hard every night. If you would only give it a chance…”

Malachi snatched away and strode to his place behind the desk. “We've discussed this too many times for my liking. I was bred for war, not the delicacies of love.” He dropped in the chair and twisted the laptop back around, hitting the escape key to erase the gut wrenching pictures. “Send for Arial. He is the only one I will trust to go with Roman.” He yelped at the sharp rap of knuckles against his head.

“Last time I checked, I wasn't ya secretary. She's got long legs and a serious case of the hots for the King. You want Arial; you call him, or have her do it.” Popping a Jolly Rancher in his mouth, Laz draped himself over his chair, his perfect body on full display.

Carefully, Malachi replaced the phone in its cradle. “I think it can wait a bit. I seem to have another matter that needs my attention at the moment.” A purr of approval erupted from the angel. “Thank fuck, I thought you'd never pick up my signals.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Dense muscle rippled along thick thighs as heavy footfalls thundered down the passageway in Malachi’s private domain. The secret cavity echoed with Arial’s presence as the Fallen strode toward Laziel’s chapel where he’d hold audience with the vampire King. The eerie silence of the crypt’s walkway only succeeded in adding to the sense of ominous foreboding that fueled the Fallen’s contemptuous mood. The shadow of Arial’s towering form crept along the dry earth walls as he virtually glided through the dusty dank air. His mood cast an even darker cloud of shadow around him; it hung like the weight of an iron cloak across the Fallen’s broad shoulders. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as a tide of anger flooded the Fallen’s sinful black heart.

The tendrils of Darklon’s evil deeds were spreading further afield. Arial had confirmation the Elder was mad. In his fervor to overthrow Malachi and seize the vampire throne, Darklon, had indeed sought out Arial and attempted to entice him with dark and devious promises framed to beguile even the most Machiavellian of hearts.

He wanted an army, one that superseded the Nephilim; one he dreamed would be sired by Arial and infused with the inherent evil of a true Fallen. A fierce smile curved Arial’s firm lips. Darklon had chosen wrong. Although cursed, Arial was not evil. However, in the attempt to annihilate Darklon’s sadistic tyranny, Arial bogusly accepted Darklon’s persuasive offer.

But, unbeknown to Darklon, Arial had long ago aligned himself to another, and true to the nature of his once angelic heart, he would honor the vow he’d made to serve. Darklon’s offer was exactly what Laziel had predicted. It was also the break they needed to gain an advantage over Darklon, an advantage that would ensure the future safety of Malachi’s other enclaves.

As planned, Arial accepted the offer to turn traitor on his liege and fuel Darklon’s attempts to rule. Engrossed in the presumption of his victory, Darklon announced his latest deed. In aligning himself with the Nephilim, Darklon used their predilection for war and virtually decimated the South American enclave. And in doing so, Darklon assured his son a seat on the vampire Elder’s Council by getting the petition signed while Malachi was otherwise occupied. Arial had searched the vampire’s mind for any sense of regret, and when none manifested, he vowed to stop the Elder’s murderous ways at any given cost. Arial swore to install himself into the vampire’s underworld and stop at nothing to gain the trust he would need to bring the ancient blood sucker down.

Arial’s only regret was that Darklon hadn’t sought him out sooner. The loss of Mendeeto, his innocent young and the countless other victims of the South American enclave verged on the borders of genocide. How many others suffered in the same way because of his egomaniacal thirst for power? Arial scored the air with a deep throated growl of bitter despair. He valued Malachi and the new ways he instituted. Even the hierarchy of the ordained, including the Pope, aligned their trust in Malachi’s regime, regardless of their own religions. The pope believed in the righteousness he saw in the vampire King.

Arial stumbled. The dismal thoughts that plagued him seriously hindered his concentration. Old reflexes, from the days when wings rose up from his back, responded. The impulse to save himself was quickly overridden by the abhorrent pain that reared its ugly head and brought the Fallen, flailing to his knees. The shredded structure that once held together glorious wings arched out around the Fallen’s incredible size. Leathery strips of tattered and torn feathers failed in their attempt to balance the framework of muscle they once held aloft. Arial crashed to the ground amidst a cloud of dusty earth.

The torn stumps of his wings struck against the dry stone of the passage and ripped the fiber structure apart, fracturing the joint of Arial’s wing span. They collapsed limp and bleeding down the Fallen’s broad back. Blood, noxious in the stench of the demons from which he fed, pooled at Arial’s knees and reflected the look of loathing in the Fallen’s empty gaze. Antipathy rooted itself firmly within the depths of his dark heart for Darklon and his allied force of war mongering Nephilim.

A wall of silence bore down on Arial; one of such magnitude he found it hard to breathe. His eyes widened with fear and darted around the shadowy walkway, searching, knowing he was no longer alone. Although he couldn’t see the presence of life, he sure as hell sensed it. A soft warm breeze flitted over the bared wounded mesh of his wings and eased over the fractured raw remains. A strange but welcome heat slid over the painful limp appendages. Arial muffled a gasp and lowered his head. Whoever this presence was within his company, it yielded a power unlike anything the Fallen had ever witnessed. Arial knelt stoic, fearing to move should he anger the almighty force. He fought against the sudden well of emotion threatening to melt the ice encasing what was left of his soul.

“My mighty servant, heed my words. You, Arial Nathanial, were born to take this path of allegiance. For, he who rules will reign through the darkest of times to come and he will aspire to be worthy of the love he tries so foolhardily to hide from. It will come to pass. As the joining of blood and love creates a union of souls, you, Arial, will reap the reward if you continue to toil on the road upon which you travel. Stay close to the one whom bares your traits for you will be needed through the torrential nightmares of their sadness and darkest days. Stay true to your heart, my most worthy of servants, and suffer not from your unyielding curse.”

Arial’s heartbeat thundered in his ears as he strained to hear the lightly whispered words he was certain sang through the passage. But, as quickly as the presence stirred him, it dissipated, and Arial once again found himself alone. He pushed up from his knees, feeling lost and ill at ease. Had he really just heard the most angelic of voices? Or was he now deluded as well as fallen and cursed? Could the Fallen go mentally insane? Because right at that moment, as Arial took the flight of steps leading into Laziel’s chapel, he sure as hell felt like he was losing his fucking mind.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Arial still waited for the fucking Seraphim to appear with Malachi so he could report like he’d been mentally summoned to do. Anger and impatience battled against the hunger ever present in his gut.

“Laziel, you fucking fairy.” Arial stomped across the small space intent on seeking Laziel out. Arial knew no one, not even the Elders, appeared within this section of the enclave where the King maintained his own private quarters. Arial walked ten; maybe fifteen yards toward the next door when the permeating cloud of Laziel’s celestial scent almost knocked the Fallen back on his ass.

“Fuck me,” Arial groaned as the sound of the King’s triumphant roar echoed through the hallway followed by a well satisfied purr. “Shit, shit, shit.” Arial tried to gather himself to leave, but a salacious wave of sexual energy slammed into him and knocked him out cold.

The sense of being dragged followed by the unmistakable feel of his body being lifted and slumped into a chair roused Arial from his stupor. Warily, he cracked open an eye and groaned in relief when he spied Miss Stroner’s smiling face. She placed a cold compress delicately across his head. He smiled awkwardly at the female who blushed a deep scarlet. It crept up to flush her cheeks with blood as she cleared her throat and pulled a throw down from the back of the couch; that was when Arial felt it. The tight fit of his leather pants strained at the seams as Arial’s throbbing erection pulsed against the restricting material.

“Looks like someone’s happy to see us, Lachi love. Or, is that your usual meet and greet brother mine?” Laziel snorted when Arial moaned loudly.

“Go fuck yourself Tinkerbelle.”

Arial rose from his reclined position on the couch and arranged himself gingerly so that his erection remained hidden by the throw. He thanked Malachi’s secretary who blushed once more, lowered her gaze to his mid...drift and headed for the door. Arial hadn’t felt either the pulse of his cock or such rank embarrassment in years, but as he rubbed a hand over his face and caught sight of a neon fucking G...string dangling from his fingers, he had no clue where settle his gaze. When he dared raise his shocked gaze, he caught the angel winking at him as he adjusted the exceptionally low waist of his jeans over the bare cheeks of his ass.

“The fucking’s where I come in, my Fallen friend. And, I for one have no complaints as the angel delivers a damned fine appetizer. Of course, we had to skip the main course when your head decided to give the floor a Glasgow kiss. Damn near thought some motherfucker was trying to get in on our act…however, I should warn you, I don’t think Laziel’s the sharing type.” Malachi winked before he and Laziel damn well nearly broke their balls laughing at the look of shock etched across his face.

“You motherfuckers need to get a room,” Arial chided before leaning back to rest his head against the back of the chair. “Jesus, if that was the fallout from the first course, I’m glad I interrupted when I did. Don’t think I’d have come round after the main meal.” Arial chuckled deeply and ducked before the well...aimed cushion struck him on the head.

Laziel threw a wickedly amorous look toward the King, grinned and crossed the room to sink into the vampire’s lap. “Hmm, well, maybe we can make room for the main course later. It’ll give Lachi a chance to catch his breath.”

The angel purred when Lachi fisted his waist length hair and tugged viciously arching the column of the angel’s throat. “Don’t think you’re safe from me, angel. It makes no difference to me if there’s an audience. I’ll take what I want from you where and when I want it, capiche?” Laziel squirmed in the vampire’s lap, and Arial felt the air fill with another wave of sexual tension.

“My Liege.” Fallen he was, but there was no way in hell he wanted an encore to his earlier meet and greet with the floor. Grateful when Malachi released Laziel with a possessive lick along the angel’s vein, Arial cleared his throat. It felt as though the desert transplanted itself onto the roof of his mouth. He knew the King was not going to be happy by the end of their talk. As if reading his thoughts, Laziel placed two generously filled tumblers on the table between them and sat beside the King.

“Bere, fratello.” Laziel advised him in Malachi’s native Italian tongue. Arial did as the angel asked of him, and drank. A wary looking Malachi mirrored his actions.

“That bad, huh?” The vampire asked as he replaced the now empty glass. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Arial. What do you have?”

A breath he never realized he held escaped on a sigh. “My Liege, the situation is dire, to say the least. I only wish we’d acted sooner. Maybe then, the South American enclave and Mendeeto could have been spared. Darklon sent them and the Nephilim fought under his so called protection.” Arial swallowed before carrying on with his report.

In detail, he explained Darklon’s predilection to get carried away and divulge his plans to those he deemed trustworthy. Shamefully, he admitted that for whatever reason Darklon saw fit to take Arial under his wing. He exposed in detail Darklon’s vision; Arial as the answer to his dreams of a more superior army of fighters bred from and trained by none other than a truly evil fallen. He wanted, expected more from the weaker and more vulnerable Nephilim.

“The crazy bastard’s hell bent on the notion I am his salvation and the answer to his prayers. Malachi, my vow to you is unwavering, but to bring Darklon down I will need to integrate myself further into his and the Nephilim’s regime. The only other to know of my standing is his Excellency the Pope. He is a trusted friend, one I am indebted too. If you wish otherwise, I will stand aside. But, we need more inside information on Darklon's next move, and I am the only one he seems to trust.” Arial stood and paced, his brow furrowed in thought.

“I don't know if the news I have is of any help at the moment, but just before Mendeeto was sacrificed, Darklon visited the South American enclave. I attended him on the journey and was aware Darklon seemed unnerved. Upon entering the enclave I witnessed him meeting with a very distraught female who seemed to take his arrival there as extremely unwelcome. A bitter disagreement ensued between Darklon and the female. But when another male joined them, the female started to plead with Darklon.”

Arial remembered the look of anguish on her face as she begged. “She said the young male was her son and that Darklon had no right to assume any role to the child she'd reared. However, the Elder shut her down fast. I watched as her eyes fell flat. I’ve no doubt Darklon used compulsion on her. As she walked away, Darklon led the younger vampire away from his home and brought him here. At first, the male seemed apprehensive and unsure of who Darklon was. I swear the young male had never laid eyes on him before, but Darklon wouldn't take no for an answer. He struck the young one, hard and then dissipated with him from the enclave, leaving me there.” Arial stopped before the King and Seraphim and knelt, head lowered.