Shadow of the Vampire (25 page)

         
The smile fell from her face. The woman strode to a group of men. She didn't need to hear their words to know they spoke about her. The hate in their eyes spoke volumes. Alexia swallowed and turned her focus to her lap, feeling a cold stab of reality pierce her heart.

         
She was the monster.

         
DECLAN GAZED AT A LEXIA and frowned. She'd been nervous from the first moment they'd stepped inside the hall. He'd sensed it immediately and, although he understood the cause, it surprised him. She was so in command of herself and her soldiers. After all, she had managed to catch him when no one else had.

         
At the memory a faint smile curved the corner of his lips. It amazed him how they moved from one extreme to the next without him realizing when or how it happened. One minute he hated her. The next, he couldn't stand to be away from her. And, gods, if seeing her sitting in his hall hadn't brought a smile to his lips then nothing would. He'd lived in fear for so many hours the past days, to see her safe, where Lotharus's evil machinations couldn't hurt her warmed his heart.

         
A shadow passed over his thoughts.

         
"I had wings, like yours."

         
Declan tensed his brow at the memory. A nagging suspicion of what that meant crept into his mind.

         
"You dare bring her here. In our hall. Our home."

         
All his thoughts faded at Falcon's voice. Declan turned to face him. The flames from a nearby brazier flickered across his face. Ire he wasn't quite certain he deserved lit up his friend's emerald eyes. Declan bit down on his jaw and turned back to the festivities. Rocking back on his heels, he tightened his arms around his chest and brought the tankard of warmed mead to his lips.

         
The sharp smell of alcohol filled his nose a second before the sweet flavor hit his lips. Their potent home brew rolled hot and smooth down his throat. The urge to slam the entire cup back, to feel its warmth sliding down his gullet, giving him the courage to continue this conversation, was almost too much to bear. He set the cup back to rest on his arm.

         
"Even you cannot bring yourself to justify it aloud, can you?"

         
"Falcon, I'm not having this discussion with you."

         
"This discussion started the moment you stepped through that gateway with her in your arms. Everyone is talking about it, about how their King is a traitor."

         
"Remember who you're speaking to," Kestrel said, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

         
Falcon shouldered out of his hold. "That's just it. I don't know who this man is. The Declan I knew hated the vampires who murdered his parents. By flaunting your vampire whore around for all to see, you mock the deaths of those children's fathers," he said, pointing into the crowd. "Your parents."

         
Gods, was he? "You don't know what you're talking about," he murmured, annoyed by the question in his own voice.

         
"Don't I? Then explain it to me," Falcon said, throwing his arms to the sides. Declan looked around, thankful no one paid heed to their verbal sparring.

         
"You can't rationalize it, any of it, and you know why? She killed them."

         
Defensive anger reared its head, only this time he didn't hold it back. "And how many of her kin have I slaughtered?" he asked. "How many have I butchered like the animals we thought they were?"

         
Falcon opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again.

         
"Those animals have wives, young," Declan continued. "They live, like us. Love, like us. Who are we to judge who's worthy of life on this earth? Who deserves to die? When does all of this killing and hate end?"

         
Falcon blinked, understanding lighting up his eyes. With a loud sigh, he moved to step closer. Declan lifted a hand before turning and walking away, heading for Alexia, finding her chair empty.

         
ALEXIA REACHED BACK, tugging the woolen hood over her head. Keeping her eyes lowered, she rounded a table and moved toward the massive double doors. Without looking behind her, she stepped through the threshold and started back the way Declan and she had come. She'd gone to him, hearing most of the fight he'd had with Falcon. Guilt tore through her. Instead of being the adhesive holding her home, Declan's home, together, she tore everything apart and she didn't know how to mend any of it. She felt alone, lost in more ways than one.

         
"Are you lost, vampire?"

         
Alexia inhaled at the low voice and spun to face whoever had snuck up behind her. She only made it halfway before a large male body pressed hers back against the nearest wall. Alexia slammed into the wall, the hood falling back to her shoulders. A gasp tore from her lips, more from shock than the force, for the man in front of her was huge. At least six foot four and all of it thick, corded muscle that was visible beneath his filthy brown tunic. Tattoos wound around his mountainous biceps, another across the skin beneath the V of his shirt.

         
A dragon lord. He had to be.

         
She swallowed and forced her chin up, unwilling to show fear even though it coursed heavy and thick through her limbs. He tilted his head to the side, regarding her. Dark hair fell against his jaw, his lips were thinned tight. A scar split the skin above and beneath one indigo eye. Deep and puckered, its raised white line stood in contrast to his dark complexion.

         
Alexia's entire body tensed, adrenaline coursed through her veins, telling her to run or fight. And she couldn't help but notice how he seemed completely relaxed, at ease with his tenseness, as if he were used to living life on an adrenaline rush.

         
"Are you deaf, vampire? Or do you not speak anything other than that heathen tongue of your kind?"

         
Alexia frowned. She could have sworn he'd said the last sentence in their ancient language, but shook it off.

         
"No. I'm going back to Declan's room," she said, finally answering his first question.

         
"Lord Declan's room. Our King." He bared a row of white teeth and leaned closer. He smelled of ale, dark spices and death.

         
She shuddered. "Yes, that's the one."

         
The dragon grunted. "I've fought you before, you know. You should be in our dungeon, not our hall. Not our lord's bed." Lips curled back, he smacked a flat palm on the wall beside her. Alexia jumped, and his eyes fell to her chest, then lower. She felt his gaze rake over her appreciatively and she suddenly wondered if the brute harbored some resentment toward Declan for not sharing the spoils of their recent battle.

         
"Well, your King has found other uses for me."

         
"Oh, I bet he has," he said, dragging a thumb across his lower lip before stretching his hand toward her.

         
"Griffon," a low voice stated.

         
They both turned their heads. Declan stood in the middle of the corridor, mug in hand. His expression was taut, his blue eyes blazing.

         
"Back off her. Now."

         
The dragon looked at her once more and Alexia found herself holding her breath. A lazy smile tweaked his lips. Casually, he pushed off the wall and faced Declan.

         
"I was just saying hello to your new girlfriend," he said, almost brushing his shoulder against Declan's as he pushed by him and back into the hall.

         
Declan's body lunged as if he meant to go after him and his mouth opened, but whatever words had formed in his mind, he kept them to himself. Alexia saw his jaw flex in the low light, saw the struggle, the weariness on his face. He closed his eyes. Then his long lashes fluttered open, revealing a steel-blue gaze, burning with an anger that made her breath catch.

         
DECLAN SAW THE LOOK on Alexia's face and knew she'd misread his anger. She thought it was directed at her. So, he closed his eyes again. Counting to ten, he willed control, knowing he had none where she was concerned. He never had. Still, he repeated in his mind that he would not slaughter Griffon tonight. That the hunter had not said or done anything that would permanently destroy any chance the rogue had at remaining part of his flock. He tried to forget how his heart had stuttered to a stop when he'd seen him looming over Alexia.

         
Fear he had never felt before had flooded his body, numbing his brain. The raw truth kept flashing like a neon sign in his mind. The hunter could have ripped her limbs from her body and gutted her in the seconds it would have taken Declan to reach her.

         
"Are you all right?"

         
Her words caught him off guard. He'd thought Alexia would still be frozen by the wall, so when a hand brushed his, he nearly jumped.

         
"I should be saying that to you."

         
A weak smile passed her lips. She brought her hands together, rubbing her palms as if cold. "I'm just tired. Can we go?"

         
Declan frowned, feeling she wasn't telling him everything. But he didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he placed the mug down on a small table beside her and took both her hands in his. They were cold. Her fingers threaded through his, gripping him tight. A low shiver ran down his spine. From the cold or her touch?

         
Shaking off the thought, he tugged her hand, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder.

         
"Come on," he said, motioning down the hall.

         
They didn't speak on the way back to Declan's chamber, but he didn't let go of her hand. It was odd, to walk hand in hand with someone, especially in his mountain home. Declan had been with women before, had even had a serious girlfriend or two. However, he'd thought about none as much as he did about this woman. It seemed his mind was consumed with Alexia. How he could make her happy, make her smile, make her comfortable. The revelation terrified and yet excited him at the same time. Like the first time he jumped free from his mother's arms and took to the sky on his own.

         
"I'm sorry about leaving before," she said once they'd stepped inside. "It's just that I'm not used to so much excitement."

         
Her words took Declan by surprise. When they finally registered, he laughed. "Really? But you have a huge horde."

         
"Of soldiers," she replied, slipping the heavy fur off her shoulders and tossing it across his bed. The gray sweater he'd given her to wear fell almost to her knees.

         
He watched the slight dip and sway of her hips as she moved to stand in front of the roaring fireplace. The highlights of her blond hair caught the light, making it look like early spring honey.

         
"I've not been around my people since I was a girl."

         
The smile left his face. He realized with stark clarity that, while he cared for her much more than he should, he really didn't know her. Grabbing the back of his neckline, he tugged the heavy garment over his head. Tossing it on the ground, he moved closer, stepping behind her.

         
"Why?" he asked. When she didn't reply, he reached out, slowly stroking his hands up and down her arms, his fingertips barely grazing her skin each time he reached her forearm. Even that light touch made his stomach clench, his heart beat faster.

         
She let out a sigh and spun in his arms. After a pause, she tipped her chin up. Declan didn't speak, but he urged her to talk with his eyes.

         
"Lotharus," she said, closing hers as if it pained her to even say his name. "He advised my mother to separate ourselves from the compound. He said it would be in our best interest if we were apart. Not only would it keep harm from us if we were surrounded by him and his men, but it would elevate us. Keep us untouchable and supreme in our people's eyes."

         
"Do you believe that is the way to rule?"

         
She shook her head. "No. I never did. I believe he only wanted to isolate us. Keep us to himself."

         
Yeah, I bet. Rage boiled in his veins and he fought to control it. He needed to be here for her now. In the present. Not trapped in some hate for a vampire who had left scars he could only kiss and soothe. Even if he killed the bastard, she would still bear them, always bear them. He could only help her ease the burden.