Crimson Reign (28 page)

A voice punched into his mind, screaming his name. Female, familiar, frightened. The pressure on his mouth disappeared as he reached out with his mind to his frightened secretary. A snarl curled his lips when he found the taint of the other’s mind, only this time he recognized the signature. Darklon. Like a movie on fast forward, her encounter with the Elder played out for Malachi’s review. The beast within him howled its rage when the Elder struck the female hard in the face. When he blinked, Laziel was striding back into the room, Miss Stroner cradled in his arms.

“Bring her to me, Laziel, over on to the couch.” As he strode to the sofa, Roman stepped through the office doors, a defiant gleam in his eyes. Malachi inclined his head to the guards at his back, granting permission for the young male to stay. When the double doors swung closed, the scent of Ms. Stroner’s blood stained the air in the room. Laziel stepped back and Malachi’s gaze tracked over her bruised and bloody face.

“He has gone too far. She is an innocent.” Going down on one knee beside her, Malachi turned her head until her eyes locked with his.

Even though he knew she labored under Darklon’s thrall, the change that came over her when their gazes met still shocked him. Frightened eyes darkened to a sultry dark chocolate. Trembling lips curved in a seductive smile while shaking hands landed possessively on his chest and rode up the crisp whiteness of his shirt to lock around his neck.

“Hello, Malachi. I’ve been looking for you.” For the second time in less than five minutes, warm lips closed over his. A ferocious, possessive rumble erupted over his shoulder. Hastily but gently, Malachi broke the kiss and captured Kimberly’s jaw in one hand. The other whipped behind him to clamp tightly on Laziel’s thigh holding him still.

“Quiet, angel, she’s not herself.” The muscled thigh vanished as Laziel swung away to stalk across the room muttering curses. Unable to soothe the angel’s ruffled feathers with Roman in the room, Malachi focused on the female. Ruthlessly, he shoved into her mind piercing the veil of Darklon’s malevolent presence. Concealed behind the shroud of evil, Kimberly’s will shoved against the encroaching darkness. “Sapevo che eri un combattente, tesoro.”

“Somebody want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Malachi ignored the young Di Sangue. If he tried to interfere, Laziel, despite the anger, would handle the boy. He spoke softly to the female lying stretched out beside him.

“Ms. Stroner. It’s Malachi.”

“I know who you are, my sexy King.” She laughed throatily and tried to pull him down for another kiss. Inside her mind, he felt her recoil, embarrassed by the reactions caused by Darklon’s influence. He relented and leaned closer.

“I’m going to rid you of this filth, Ms. Stroner. Just like I did before, and I will avenge you. He will pay for his deeds this day.”

Summoning the virulence of his will, Malachi projected it outward. Clear as crystal and brighter than a sunburst, it radiated from him, searing away the foul manifestation of Darklon’s enthrallment. Furious, Malachi pounded against the Elder’s enchantment until the power of his resolve brightened the entirety of his office. When he encountered another concentration of Darklon’s thrall, he swallowed a curse. Laziel had been right. Roman stumbled sideways, hands clutching at his head.

“It is done, Lachi.” Laziel’s petulant voice sounded deep in his psyche piercing his concentration. Reluctantly, he curtailed the flow of power drawing it back into himself. He blinked and focused on the female crying softly against his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” She hiccupped between sobs.

“It’s okay, Kimberly. You’re safe, but we need to tend to your face.” A crash brought his head around to find Laziel supporting a dazed Roman Di Sangue. The young male shook his head and made no protest as the angel lowered him into a leather armchair. Roman’s head sank into unsteady hands as he struggled to understand the past few minutes.

“Some trick you got there, your Majesty. Do the Elders know you can control a supernova?”

“Boy, he is the supernova. Get ya damn facts straight,” Laziel sneered. From across the room, Malachi caught Laziel’s molten lava eyes. The angel’s fury blistered his mind. Roman’s confusion stung Malachi’s nostrils. Still deep in Ms. Stroner’s mind, he planted the suggestion of sleep and withdrew. In moments, her weight sagged against him and he eased her down on the sofa. Laziel crossed the room to kneel beside Malachi and belligerently shoved his hands aside to reluctantly cup Ms. Stroner’s face.

“Let me, it’ll only take a second.”

With a shrug and a glare instructing the angel to behave, Malachi slid into the chair opposite Di Sangue, and cleared his throat.

“You feel dizzy and disoriented. A slight headache plagues you. Something…heavy has gone from your mind, but there’s no relief. You remember the last couple of weeks, but something, some haze seems to have clouded your thoughts, influenced your reactions, and thwarted your truer intentions.” All statements, not questions, as Malachi watched the male. Roman’s head snapped up, brilliant green eyes flashing with annoyance.

“How do you know? Did you do something to me when I was here?”

Irritation colored Malachi’s voice. “I haven’t done anything but give you the place on my Council your father killed for you to have.”

Roman’s mouth opened, the automatic denial courtesy of Darklon’s thrall hovering on his tongue.

“It’ll take time for the urges caused by his influence to lessen in strength. You’ve been under a while.”

The younger vampire slumped back in the chair. “Are you telling me, my father did this to me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Darklon is not the benevolent vampire he appears to be. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“Arial…” Roman paused looking uncomfortable. Barely refraining from touching the boy’s mind, Malachi waited impatiently. “Arial hinted that my fath…that Darklon was responsible for the Nephilim attacking the enclave.”

Malachi hid his surprise. Unusually stoic, Arial rarely disclosed any of his thoughts and certainly not information as poisonous as planned genocide. The Fallen must have taken a liking to the boy. “Given a choice between the Fallen and Darklon, I would urge you to err on the side of the angel. He can be trusted to keep his word.” When the trepidation on Roman’s face deepened, Malachi leaned forward drawing Roman’s gaze.

“You were under thrall, subject to Darklon’s will and manipulation. He wants something from you, or knows something about you that is another rung on the ladder he is climbing. Watch your back, Roman Di Sangue, and do not trust the Elder. He wants this throne at any cost. And, I aim to ensure he never sees it. Stand with him and know your death is imminent.” Malachi shrugged. “We shall see what you are made of.” He leaned back against the leather. “Now report.”

After gathering his thoughts, the young male straightened in his seat. “The funeral pyres were lit. I emailed you a list of the dead and structured the list according to surname so that it is easily searchable. Renovations have begun in the enclave and the survivors have rudimentary but safe accommodations at the moment. Arial remained at the enclave to offer protection until I can return.” The young male paused a moment then continued. “I would ask the Court to provide a contingent of your Guardians as many of the dead were male.”

A nod of assent preceded his words. “Laziel will select a battalion and send them out immediately. I will not have my people huddling in fear.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“And Carmelishia?”

Roman’s eyes flicked away and rested on the female still sleeping on the sofa. From his body language, Malachi knew the next part of the report was not going to be good.

Voice pitched lower than before, Roman spoke. “When I arrived, she was still wild with grief. Her screams tormented me.” Clear green eyes returned to meet Malachi’s midnight black. They bore the unmitigated weight of immense sorrow. “But she pulled herself together. For the people who loved her and treasured Mendeeto, she put aside her own personal grief. She was so strong. Everyone left alive in the enclave came by to express their sympathy and for reassurance all would be well. She met every one of them, hugged them, cried with them and laughed with them.” Another pause and Roman tunneled a hand into his hair. “Sire, I never saw it coming.”

Dread washed over Malachi. He knew before Roman spoke, but chose not to stop the male. He wanted to see the reaction, determine if the male had the fortitude and valor required to lead an enclave, much less an entire region.

“After Mendeeto’s pyre was lit, she…she ported to him, directly into the flames. She died with her arms wrapped around him and their young, a look of serenity on her face, as if she didn’t even feel the inferno of the fire.” Pain laced Roman’s words, a tremor vibrated in his voice. Malachi’s estimation of the youth’s mettle rose.

“Get back to the enclave. Keep Arial there. The battalion will be along in a day’s time. Bring your ass back for the Crescente di Ordinare Cerimonia.” He surged to his feet, and the astonished young male hastily mirrored his stance.

“Your Majesty, I…”

“Take her to her chambers. Saul will show you the way.”

“But…”

“You are dismissed, Di Sangue.” Turning his back on the sputtering male, he cast a black gaze over the cantankerously moody angel. Neither of them spoke until Roman exited the office carrying the unconscious Ms. Stroner. Before he could utter a word, Laziel stalked across the room and scrubbed a rough hand across his mouth. Pinned against his fangs, his lips split open filling his mouth with blood.

“You have lipstick on your mouth, my Sexy King.” The angel spat the words out, his eyes flashing a fearsome red. Malachi’s temper, already dangerously close to the surface, boiled over.

“She did no wrong, Laziel.” A sharp sting exploded along his thigh. The angel stepped back, a sneer on lush lips, and shoved something leather into his palm.

“After you have bleached your mouth of that female’s taste, come and find me. I think we both need release. If you need a hint of where I’ll be, your toy is a clue.”

Between one breath and the next, the angel faded, leaving Malachi alone in his office. He glanced down at the riding crop and swore. “Sneaky fucking angel.” The stables, the one place, he’d be forced to temper his anger.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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Warmth emanated from Laziel’s skin in a slow rolling wave of anger and sinful desire. Images of that female’s mouth laying claim to what Laziel saw as his own only succeeded in ramping up the simmering intensity of his darkening mood. It hadn’t taken long to dispatch orders to the required legion of warriors. By dusk the following day, the South American enclave would be one of the most highly protected territories in the world, bar one. Not that Lachi needed protecting…

A shiver at the mere thought of his name worked its way down his spine, and the intensity of Laziel’s arousal punched against the tight stretch of his riding pants, such was his natural response to the sultry, ravenous weight of Lachi’s obsessive desire. Need, in all its lurid debauched form, rode Laziel hard. His body trembled from his need of release. From the moment he’d temptingly struck the riding crop against Lachi’s firm flesh, he knew his vampire wouldn’t resist the enticement to follow and carry out what the seductive act suggestively promised.

Bathed within the silver glow of the moonlight’s spectral glare, Laziel sat bare back across his stallion’s back and ran warm glowing hands down over the steed’s thick muscular neck. Black as pitch, the stallion’s coat shone under the moon’s gaze. The beasts were a vision of power and beauty, ones Laziel admired. Lachi’s love of the equine beasts had brought about a rare purchase, vampires and horses did not usually co...exist. As Laziel let the powerhouse of strength between his legs lead the way, he recalled how hard Lachi had worked, for months on end, to gain the stallions’ trust. He admired Lachi’s dedication. In teaching himself patience and learning how to act around the magnificent steeds, Lachi tamed more than just the horses. In their presence, the vampire King bestowed a calm Laziel prized above anything else. And, did he abuse that calm? Oh hell yes.

The rolling valleys that surrounded the location of Lachi’s stables offered a sanctuary of peace. Laziel and Lachi craved the quiet. There, the only sound for miles came from the whispering trees that surrounded the valley. Laziel’s steed cantered through a fall of autumn leaves. He loved the fall of the year when the valley lay awash with waves of color, and the scent of the earth filled the air.

On the rare occasions when he and Lachi found time alone, Laziel rode through the valley with his wings at full mount and his hair unbraided to flow down his back. The wanton desire the effect of that particular display had on Laziel’s male brought him great joy. As the strands of his hair tickled his hips, he smiled and let the rumbling tide of lustful laughter rise from his chest until the fog of his breath mingled with the billowing breath from his panting steed.

Exhilaration flared through Laziel, heating his blood and fuelling the unquenchable desire inside when the undeniable form of the vampire King appeared on the neighboring hill. As he watched, the steed reared up on back legs to silhouette man and beast against the moon. The beauty of their twinned mounts faded in comparison to the masculine attraction of the handsomely carved vampire male. With a body honed for the subliminal art of carnal satisfaction, Lachi was an Adonis…the personification of desire and sin.

Astride his mount, Laziel shivered. The burden of anticipation crawled over the surface of his lightly glowing skin. Its lingering touch heightened the throbbing ache of the prominent arousal now straining for release. And right on cue, as if the motherfucker could smell the aggressive need to be laid bare before him, Lachi's deep resonating voice laved the cool night air, teasing Laziel with his deep Italian accent. Seductive in its drawl, it enticed Laziel's libido, ramping up his celestial allure. Tortured by the incessant throb of his sex, Laziel’s grip instinctively tightened on the soft leather reins. His loins trembled from the build...up of raw heat burning low within their midst. The thought of Lachi’s expectations once the stallions were housed back in their stalls filled his mind and gripped his lower extremities, drawing an aggravated groan of utter anguish from his lips.