A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

Alarm sounded in Damon’s brain. Even as a wolf he understood that if he didn’t end this quickly, he would be dead.

A fine plan until he whirled around to meet the king’s glowing, golden gaze. Suddenly he realized that Salvatore hadn’t yet unleashed his full powers. Damon didn’t think the bastard was toying with him. But . . . he hadn’t truly tried to kill him.

Damon’s heart clenched with regret.

His conscience wouldn’t allow him to concede defeat. Not when he was weirdly convinced his mother’s ghost was watching him with disappointment.

As the king had said . . . there was only one conclusion.

Feeling almost compelled by a force greater than himself, Damon bunched his muscles, then with one mighty surge, he was flying forward.

Salvatore was prepared. Rising onto his back legs, he met Damon’s charge with a flurry of teeth and claws. Snarls filled the clearing as the two predators battled, the air scented with the tang of blood. Distantly Damon was aware of the shouts from the onlookers, and even the chilled power of the vampires, but the focus of his attention remained locked on the Were who had used his large body to force Damon to the ground.

He was losing blood at a rapid rate now, his muscles weakening as Salvatore’s teeth clenched around his throat.

It was all about to be over, was his final thought.

But it wasn’t.

Without warning, he felt a familiar tingle of magic as his body abruptly turned back to human.

Damon cursed, baffled by the unwelcome transformation.

To turn human signaled his surrender. The one thing he’d been determined to avoid.

Unaware that Damon had intended the fight to be to the death, Salvatore instantly released his lethal clamp on Damon’s throat. Then, with a shimmer of power, Salvatore shifted to his human form, kneeling in the snow beside Damon’s body that remained sprawled on the snow.

Damon made a sound of frustration, desperately trying to call on his wolf. But he was suddenly paralyzed, as if his injuries had left him incapable of controlling his own body.

Perhaps this was what it felt like to die, he acknowledged wryly, an unexpected warmth beginning to spread over his chest.

Odd, he had thought it would be more . . . memorable.

His naked body relaxed in the snow as he prepared to meet death with at least the pretense of dignity, watching as a frown tugged at Salvatore’s brow.

What the hell was wrong with the arrogant bastard? Had he hoped for a bloodier battle? Or perhaps he was annoyed it was taking Damon so long to die?

Wishing he had the strength to get in one last punch, Damon was startled when Salvatore sucked in a harsh breath, his narrowed gaze lowering to Damon’s chest.

“Cristo,” he muttered, his expression filled with revulsion as he studied the medallion that hung around Damon’s neck. “What’s that?”

Damon managed to shake off the paralysis, lifting his arm so he could grasp the medallion. He was startled to discover it was hot enough to burn the skin of his palm.

“It belonged to my father,” he muttered, glancing down as a black cloud began to pulse in the air around them.

With a roar of outrage, Salvatore surged to his feet, glaring down at Damon. “The magic of the demon lord,” he hissed, pointing toward the medallion. “Traitor.”

Demon lord?

A sickening horror jolted through Damon as he watched the cloud begin to spread through the air, wrapping around Salvatore. Instantly the stench of burning flesh assaulted his senses.

“No,” he breathed, struggling to sit up, his hand trying to yank the medallion from his neck as the blackness continued to spread through the clearing, attaching itself to the curs who darted forward to protect their king.

“Stop!” Salvatore roared, falling to his knees as his skin melted from his shuddering body. “You will destroy us all.”

Damon couldn’t breathe as the nightmare continued to unfold. “I can’t.”

“Dammit.” Salvatore glared at him with utter condemnation. “You’re just like your father.”

Damon shook his head, panic thundering through him.

Mackenzie had been a crazed, brutal tyrant. A wolf willing to commit any atrocity to retain control of the throne.

Damon was nothing like him.

“I’m not,” he hissed, his stomach churning as the curs were consumed by the hungry darkness.

“Your vain ambition has released the evil back into this world,” Salvatore rasped, tumbling forward as the repulsive blackness continued to crawl outward, destroying any cur or Were in its path.

Damon shook his head, a choking sense of dread squeezing his heart. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

His whispered words were frozen on the still air as the darkness headed directly toward the nearby house where the baby Weres were being cuddled by their mother and aunts.

There was a roar as a massive vampire charged forward, his movements so swift that Damon barely had time to catch sight of the sword before it was slicing through his throat.

The world disappeared in a blaze of pain.





Levet was frantic.