Shadow of the Vampire (19 page)

         
Chest rising and falling sharply, Declan peered out the door. Once he was certain they were gone, he moved in front of her and began working on her bindings.

         
"The soldiers are mobilizing," she said, urgently twisting against her bonds.

         
"Yes. And by the sound of it, Kestrel has sent the entire legion to come free me," he said without looking up from this task. "And if I know my sister, she won't let them leave here alive without me."

         
"So? That sounds like pretty standard procedure for a rescue mission." Her voice cracked though she tried to steady it. Something about the tone in his, and the haste with which he tried to free her set her on edge.

         
As Declan tugged the last knot free, unwinding the rope from her chafed wrists, she took a step forward. "If they succeed, they won't leave here without hunting down the Queen and her heir and killing them both. Not if I don't get to them first."

         
Alexia's footing faltered. She couldn't tell if it was from his remark or the weakness in her limbs, but told herself it was the latter. A hand gripped the side of her face, the other her hip, helping to steady her.

         
"Of course they wouldn't." Alexia swallowed and tried to suppress the abrupt sense of hurt. "And if they fail?" she asked, glad her years of training took over, hardening her voice.

         
His thumb lightly caressed her cheek before it fell away. The cold air that swept across her skin mirrored the emptiness growing inside her.

         
"Then we will all die." His answer intensified the hollow void in the pit of her stomach. "Those here are the last of our original line. If they perish, soon it will be as if dragons had never existed."

         
Alexia didn't hesitate. "Then you have to go. Now."

         
The fingers on her hip bit into her desperately. "I can't leave you here."

         
"You can't stay, either."

         
As if to further emphasize her point, another booming crash rained down from above. But now gunshots fired in answer. His broad shoulders jumped with each one. He didn't have to tell her his conflicted state of mind, one half telling him to go and the other to stay. She saw the war rage across his face clear as day.

         
"Go," she said again, this time giving his arms a push.

         
The hand that held her hip ripped free and he backed up a few steps. Alexia nearly whimpered at the loss, at the thought that this would be the last time she'd feel his touch, see him standing in front of her.

         
Declan's gaze searched her face.

         
More gunfire and screams pierced the air above.

         
"Go," she repeated.

         
"What about you?"

         
"I belong here, fighting for my people. Just as you belong out there fighting for yours."

         
"But Lotharus..."

         
"Will be nothing after tomorrow when I take the throne." She shook her head, unable to say aloud the truth of what that meant for them. What her becoming Queen made them. "Declan, I..."

         
He rushed forward, reaching her in two steps. His lips covered hers hard and fast. Whatever she had planned to say became lost in his kiss. Alexia gasped into his mouth as he swept her literally off her feet and into his powerful arms. Goddess, she sighed, melting into them. His dominance overwhelmed her. With no restraints, no collar keeping his strength in check, she found his sheer power and size intoxicating.

         
And she yielded instantly.

         
Wrapping a hand around his shoulders, her other palm cupped the back of his head. Warm and desperate, his mouth claimed hers, kissing her with fierce hunger. A minute passed and then another. More shrieks and gunfire blasted above them, but the only thing she could think of was the urgent, plying rhythm of his mouth on hers. After three and then four minutes he pressed her backward, pinning her between him and the wall.

         
The warmth of his body seeped into hers, consuming her. A knee wedged between her legs. Like lightning, lust crackled through her. Fire blossomed in her core, igniting the already burning desire eating away at her for this man...her enemy and the one person who knew the whereabouts of the crystal.

         
The thought crept in her mind, although she tried to suppress it. Some part of her knew this was goodbye, but she forced that thought back, as well. Forced herself to live in this moment, this instant, knowing the minute he left they would return to being rivals once more. Hunting each other for the one thing both of them needed.

         
Large hands framed her face and he pulled away, leaning his forehead on hers. Eyes still closed, her lips tingled, wet and swollen from his kisses.

         
"Promise me you'll fight hard. That you won't go down easy, no matter what." Although he wasn't asking, she heard the entreating tone in his voice. It nearly undid her. Even he couldn't lie about their situation, their future. The fact he even stood here now, begging her to stay safe, had her heart twisting in her chest.

         
Unable to speak, Alexia nodded. Reaching out, she tightened her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. "I promise," she finally whispered.

         
Although it took more will than he thought he owned to pull away, Declan managed to release her. Taking a step back, he held her gaze. He knew he said too much with one look. Knew trying to comfort, plead, say goodbye and apologize in the seconds they had only made him fail miserably at all of them instead of succeed at one. He knew it, he felt it. But he couldn't help it, either.

         
He shook his head, unable to believe that those were the thoughts raging through him. Not revenge. Not hate. Not killing the vampires who were slaying his kin above ground. Only thoughts of her.

         
Declan spun and walked toward the back of the dungeon. He felt her eyes on him as he shifted tables and pushed debris out of the way, but he didn't turn around until he had one foot inside the crack in the wall. Taking a deep breath, he cast a regretful gaze over his shoulder, knowing the image of her standing alone in the dungeon would forever be burned into his mind.

         
"Thank you, Alexia. For everything," he said, before stepping through the gaping hole she'd told him about, not unlike the one through his heart.

         
LOTHARUS TURNED THE PAGE of the centuries-old text. Or more accurately, the loosely bound fragments of scrolls that comprised the dark prince's diary. What was left of it, anyway. Lotharus bit down on his jaw as his eyes roamed over the lines of text, one of the last entries in the collection. Even though he hated reading of the final days leading up to the Dark War, he studied them carefully. After all, if he wanted to rule, to bring back honor and dignity to the males of his race, he had to know how the dark one had failed.

         
Thoughtful of the aged and delicate parchment, Lotharus flipped to the final entry. The one he loathed reading most of all. Unlike the rest of the entries, eloquent in their precision and destruction, this final page seemed penned by a madman. At times Lotharus questioned its very validity. Doubted the possibility these final words had been penned by the same brilliant genius who had begun their race.

         
Lotharus released a disgusted snort out of his nose. The disbelieving voice was the weak part inside him speaking. The one who whispered doubts in the back of his mind, asking him, if the dark prince had failed, how could he ever hope to succeed? Reminding him that, while not desirable, the status quo was better than failure, was it not? Had his life not been above and beyond his sire's? Was not his station, reputation and daily life better than ninety-nine percent of his male counterparts'? Hadn't life behind the curtain, holding all the power yet none of the public blame or responsibility, been working for him?

         
As he had many times before, Lotharus allowed the cynical voice to run its course. Let his mind slide through the possibilities of the coming days if he chose to abandon his carefully laid plan. And as usual, his conclusion remained the same.

         
Lotharus found the mere thought of following Alexia's orders, of seeing her as leader and Queen of this horde, more abhorrent than death. Even the doubtful part of him agreed.

         
Pursing his lips, he slammed his hand atop the last page, wanting to crumple it in his palm. However, the sound of his study door opening pulled him back. Lotharus glanced up to see the Queen sweep into the room. Her long black hair and billowing crimson gown trailed behind her as she walked. It did not take someone of his advanced age and intellect to discern the displeasure and anger etched across her beautiful features. Or for him to determine by the healthy glow in her eyes that she had not been drinking the carefully measured concoction he'd given her to keep her sedated.

         
"Catija," Lotharus said, stowing the book in a drawer and rising up from his perch behind his desk. "Darling, you look famished. Have you been feeding?"

         
"Where is my daughter?"

         
A frown tugged his brow. He'd barely stretched his legs before she'd issued a demand. "Sorry?"

         
"You heard me, Lotharus. Where is Alexia?"

         
"In the battle, I imagine," he said with a carefree smile. Inside his mind swarmed with possibilities and scenarios.

         
The Queen eyed him skeptically before notching up her chin. "I want to see her. Now."

         
"What is this vexation, my love? I told you," he said, moving alongside her. "She is doing what she does best."

         
"You mean what you trained her to do."

         
Resentment simmered inside him, rearing up from the lower regions of his mind and body. A dark place he worked tirelessly to keep hidden from the Queen lest his plan--this carefully choreographed masquerade he'd swept her into--would collapse. He would fail.

         
That couldn't happen.

         
Taking her hands in his, he plastered a smile on his face and forced himself to hold it firmly in place while he stared down at her. "Dearest, you and Alexia are the only family I have. Never would I do anything to jeopardize that, to harm either of you. This horde means everything to me." He bent, kissing the top of her hand. "But you mean more."

         
Like a bad aftertaste, the lies he'd just told stuck to the back of his mouth. However, they rolled easily off his tongue and Catija, poor, pathetic Catija, bought into every single one of them. First the anger left her black eyes. Then her face relaxed, resembling more the beauty their historians wrote about...or rather, used to write about. A smile spread across his face, one she mimicked, although he was quite certain she wouldn't if she knew the cause.

         
Lotharus opened his arms and she came willingly. Enveloping her, he leaned his chin on her shoulder, then bent down and kissed it. A soft moan slid past her lips and she clutched him tighter.

         
Females, he thought, were so easy to placate, so gullible in their foolish notion of love. It made his plan advance so easily, almost absurdly so. At times, his instincts told him to be wary, to be on alert and always look over his shoulder.

         
However, no one was ever there.

         
"Now, why don't the two of us sit and enjoy a meal." Lotharus lifted his head to gaze at the soldier standing guard beside the doorway. He angled his chin toward the open chamber door. Ivan nodded and slid through it, immediately heading toward the dungeon.

         
The Queen wasn't the only one looking for Alexia. After all, he needed both of them for his plan to work.

CHAPTER TWELVE

         
DECLAN HAD DIFFICULTY maneuvering through the small crawlspace at first. But then it opened up into a maze of low-ceilinged passageways where he could almost stand upright instead of scooting along hunched over. Four-legged creatures scurried in front of him and cobwebs stuck to the thin sheen of sweat covering his back and forehead. He pushed through them, forcing his mind to focus on what lay ahead and not behind.

         
But pictures of Alexia, thoughts of her sweet lips and even softer body, plagued him. At the forefront of it all lay the hope she would not find herself outside in the fight he was barreling toward. That he would not be forced to fight her. Or worse, watch one of his kin sink their talons into her flesh.

         
The thought sent him reeling. He didn't want to be forced to harm one of his own to protect her. Didn't want to stop and consider what kind of a ruler that made him, or place a name on feelings he held in his heart for the vampire princess.