CHAPTER 19
Crace could do little more than stare at General Leto’s retreating back as the warrior disappeared into the archway leading to the underground rooms of the arena. He couldn’t even blink. The f*cking vampire had failed.
He shook his head over and over.
“My darling?” Julianna whispered.
He glanced at his wife, who winced. “He should have won,” Crace said. “He should have beat her, killed her.”
“Darling, please?”
Please, what? What the hell was she begging for now? Didn’t she understand the magnitude of what had just happened? Couldn’t she see that the dream of a seat at the Geneva Round Table was fading, turning to a brilliant shade of dirt brown?
“My darling, please?” The latter word was spoken aloud and in his mind at the same time, which caused a burst of pain to explode inside his skull.
“What?” he shouted.
“My hand,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re crushing my hand.”
He looked down and realized he was close to cracking several bones. He released her at once but he couldn’t even apologize. He couldn’t speak. He watched tears fall onto the swell of her breasts as she held her hand in her lap.
* * *
As the cameras shut down, as Alison’s face disappeared from the now blank arena screens, as the spectators began to stream through the exit tunnels, Kerrick stared at Alison and marveled. One question surfaced above every other thought—could he have a life with this woman whose powers exceeded even Second abilities? Would she be able to stay alive on Second when Helena could not? Would she be able to cast her shields and keep a thousand death vampires from slaughtering her? Could he have a f*cking life with her?
His heart thundered in his chest at the possibility. A woman in his life, permanent, bonded, treasured. Did Alison’s arrival on Second Earth actually mean a change for him, a different life, that which he had vowed never to have again so long as he made war?
Moving at lightning speed, he reached the hall leading to the arena floor. Another dash and he breached the tall arched opening to the arena. He rushed toward the black mats, his gaze centered on Alison’s blond ponytail. Just as she turned in his direction, as though sensing his presence, he was on her. He caught her in his arms and spun her around and around, her feet dangling off the floor. He kissed her hard. You were magnificent.
“It’s over,” she whispered, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“You were brilliant.”
He kissed her again. He stroked her damp hair. He held her tight against him.
She drew back and smoothed her hand over his cheek. “We’re okay … you and me?”
He nodded.
“Maybe we have a chance?” she asked.
His heart melted, a big puddle in his chest. “We just might.”
He planted his lips once more against hers and penetrated her mouth with his tongue. She took him willingly and suckled. He arched over her and deepened the kiss, settling her booted feet back on the mats. She moaned softly.
“Okay, you two, knock it off,” Endelle cried, joining them.
He released her but didn’t let her get far as he slung an arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his side.
Havily crossed the black mats as well and addressed Alison. “Congratulations. You were absolutely amazing. That was beautifully done—and to think you had several Third Earth abilities, though I shouldn’t be surprised. Imagine, a reversal of time. I had heard of it but I’ve never seen it done. And the wave of resulting power! It passed through me like a cool breeze. Exhilarating.”
Alison broke free of Kerrick’s clasp and embraced the Liaison Officer. “Thank you for being with me tonight, Havily. You are my first friend on Second and I will always be grateful for your help and support.”
“It was my pleasure. If you need anything, you have only to ask. And now”—here she glanced at Madame Endelle—“I have a new military-admin mock-up to re-create, something I do in my spare time, something that would help someone to defeat the Commander if only that someone would spare me a few minutes of her time.”
Endelle offered a snort in response and a roll of her eyes. Havily in turn bowed to her, shifted to face Kerrick, smiled at him, pinched his cheek, lifted her arm, then vanished.
Kerrick moved in and once more took possession of his woman. She melded to his side, this time sliding her arm around his waist. He held her close since directly across, the Commander waited with his army. Alison’s ascension was by no means complete, which meant she was still fair game. When Darian fixed his gaze on her, a growl erupted from Kerrick’s throat.
A moment later the Commander levitated from his black regal chair and floated, without wings or any other visible means of support, across the black matting. Bastard.
Never once, however, did he shift his gaze away from Alison. She was his object, his mark, his reason for the arena contest, his goal in now crossing the battling mats. He paused four feet in front of her, his large brown eyes fixed to her, unblinking, searching. He floated down to settle his Italian footwear on the mats.
Kerrick touched Alison’s mind and found her erecting shield after shield against the Commander’s deft probes. Kerrick couldn’t control yet another growl or the thrumming of his wing-locks.
A slight blink indicated that Greaves may have sensed the threat that Kerrick was ready to mount his wings in defense of Alison.
Endelle broke the tension. “Well,” she said, her tone lustrous with sarcasm, “look what the goddamn cat dragged in.”
Kerrick wanted to hustle Alison behind him. He wanted her safe and away from the Commander even though he didn’t sense an attack coming. After all, Greaves could hardly act against Alison in this setting. As much as COPASS tended to defer to him, the Committee wouldn’t be able to ignore a direct assault. Neither Greaves nor Endelle was permitted to attack anyone directly and there were some rules even Greaves had to obey, at least when he was in the open. Like now.
* * *
Alison had not been so close to Darian since she stood beside him at the railing of the medical complex staring down at her first very pale, very beautiful death vampire. But here he was, in the flesh, one of the most powerful beings on Second Earth, her former client. He had sent Leto to the downtown Borderland in pursuit of her. He had sent a regiment to Carefree. He had arranged the arena battle just for her, all with one intention.
Yet she had counseled him. She had heard his story. She knew him, at least to the extent anyone could know a man without a conscience, a sociopath. She knew the pain he had suffered as a child, the cause of his mental disorder.
Still. He had intended for her to die.
He held her gaze, his large child-like eyes beckoning. “You surprised me tonight, my dear. Imagine, a reversal of time and sword re-identification and the final shield. So much power. I know of only two beings on Second who can do these three things, and we’re both right here. Was that how you repaired the window in your office? Of course it was.”
She heard Kerrick hiss softly, and another split-resonant growl rumbled through the air. Her vampire-warrior-guardian was in full protective mode.
The Commander’s gaze drifted to Kerrick. “Easy, boy. I’m offering compliments. Your woman did quite well.”
“No shit.” The words shot past Alison’s ear. Kerrick’s body was on fire, a shield of raging heat against her side. She felt his warrior fury rising but for some reason it eased her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. They were together. They were a team, like Joy and Ryan. She sighed. Yes, like her sister and her brother-in-law.
The Commander shifted his gaze back to her. “I learned so very much while watching you battle General Leto. Overall, I consider the evening a very instructive experience.”
So that was it. That was the game. Darian, the Commander, was a man of strategy, so of course he had more than one purpose in the spectacle battle. If she didn’t die, then he would learn more about her strengths and her weaknesses. She was his enemy now.
“I can see I am disturbing what should be an evening of celebration so I will bid you good night. I wish you every happiness, my dear. And do take care.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond but turned in the direction of his army. He lifted an arm and in the blink of an eye, he and the great mass of his contingency simply vanished.
Alison stared dumbstruck at all the empty seats, the vacant dais, the solitary ornate chair from which he had observed the battle.
“Holy shit,” Kerrick muttered. “He sent his entire army away with one thought.”
“How did he do that?” Alison whispered. She couldn’t imagine the level of power required to perform such a feat.
“Poser,” Endelle muttered.
Alison glanced up at her and laughed outright. “Poser?”
Endelle rolled her eyes. “A f*cking parlor trick. Don’t let him get to you.” She huffed a sigh, turned slightly to her right, then nodded in the direction of the stands, dismissing her army. In contrast with the Commander’s army, Endelle’s contingency simply started heading to the various exits.
She turned back to Alison. “You, on the other hand, ascendiate Wells, are goddamn useless. All you had to do was finish Leto off. You had him in the palm of your hand and you let him go. What the f*ck were you thinking and by the way, what was that little private party you had with him and don’t tell me you didn’t do anything of the sort, because I know you did. Did you do a little mind-diving with Leto?”
Alison felt Kerrick’s body stiffen against her. “Alison,” Kerrick’s deep voice rumbled against her ear. “What the hell is Endelle talking about?”
She pulled away from him, far enough to meet his emerald gaze. His eyes flashed with warning. “I can’t tell you.”
“What?” he cried, his brow sinking low. Another growl erupted from his throat, this time directed at her. “Don’t tell me you went inside that traitor’s head. Tell me you f*cking didn’t!”
“Back off, Fido,” Endelle said. “So she was in his head. Big-f*cking-deal. It’s not like she had her legs wrapped around his waist.” She shifted her attention back to Alison. “I just want to know what the hell you talked about. The fact you set up a shield even I couldn’t penetrate tells me you weren’t discussing the weather.”
Alison glanced from one daunting ascender to the other. Each was bent toward her in outright aggression. For a split second she wondered if battling Leto would be the easy part of the night.
She drew in a deep breath and decided to deal with the larger of the two problems first. She stared into Endelle’s striated brown eyes. She chose carefully the words she sent. Though I can’t relay everything I saw, I can tell you Leto wants out.
A little late for that.
Alison shook her head very slowly.
What are you not telling me? She narrowed her eyes and tried to break through Alison’s shields, a pressure that got harder and harder to withstand.
Alison lifted a hand. “Don’t press against my shields,” she cried.
“I’ll do what I want.”
“If you’re wise, you won’t.”
Endelle cocked her head. “What the hell is going on, ascendiate?”
This time Alison set up a shield that encompassed Endelle. Alison communicated telepathically, Leto requests that I do not share with anyone, including you, what he shared with me, except for one piece of information. He wants you to contact an ascender by the name of James, resident of Sixth Earth and gatekeeper of Third.
How the hell am I supposed to contact Third or Sixth? Endelle sent. I haven’t had one f*cking whisper from the Upper Dimensions in millennia, not since the time I agreed to serve as Supreme High Administrator nine thousand years ago.
These words slammed through Alison’s head, a powerful sensation caused equally by Endelle’s astonishment and her frustration. You’ve been flying blind, she sent. All these years?
Endelle stared at her. After a long moment, she sighed heavily then nodded.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Alison said, releasing the shield. “But I think you’ve gotten a raw deal.”
“I find the understatement really annoying. But, yeah. Raw deal sums it up.”
Alison didn’t know what else to tell Her Supremeness. She had no idea what a gatekeeper was and as far as communicating with Sixth Earth, well, Alison was still trying to get used to Second. The information Leto had shared with her while she’d been in his head was now cloaked behind as powerful a shield as Alison could create within a pocket of her mind.
“Fine,” Endelle muttered. “I’ll take it from here.”
Alison took another deep breath then turned back to her caveman of a boyfriend. She was about to explain to him what had happened, but he stepped close to her and with his nose about an inch away from hers, he cried, “My woman stays out of the heads of other men.”
“What?” she cried.
“Just stay the f*ck out of Leto’s head or anyone else’s. Are we clear?”
“No, Kerrick, we’re not clear. Who do you think you are telling me what I can and cannot do?”
Endelle whistled. “You go, girl!”
* * *
Kerrick knew he’d drifted into some kind of Neanderthal overdrive, which wasn’t helping at all, but his body, his mind, his blood rebelled at the thought that Alison had been in Leto’s head. She wasn’t to go into the minds of other men … ever. EVER. He growled. He glared. I want an explanation, he sent. What the hell were you doing in his mind? How much did you see? Was he in yours? Did you like being in there? Does he have intentions toward you now? You do know he’s the enemy, right? A goddamn traitor?
Alison’s eyes opened wide; then she had the audacity to actually smile. You are so jealous.
He growled all over again and narrowed his eyes. If wanting to tear Leto’s limbs off one by one means I’m jealous, yeah, I’m jealous. But it was more than that. Jealousy was a very small word compared with what he was feeling right now. Jealousy was a breeze when what he felt carried hurricane-force winds.
You know, all your cardamom is starting to get to me. I feel like I walked into a Moroccan café. Her voice had a soft quality, seductive, not what he expected right now.
This isn’t over.
Then we’ll talk later.
Just don’t ever go into the mind of another man again. Have you got that?
She put her hands on her hips, those hips covered in a whole lot of tight clinging leather. His gaze drifted down then back up.
I’ll do what I please, she responded, but her blue eyes had taken on a challenging glint, which had less to do with her will in the matter and more to do with wanting to get him worked up.
He caught her buttocks and pulled her right up against him. Despite the fact that Endelle stood by grinning at the new kind of spectacle he was making, he ground into her and let her feel exactly how worked up he was.
Much to his pleasure, Alison’s pupils dilated. Her lips parted. She took breaths like she’d forgotten how to breathe.
Endelle made a series of gagging sounds. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far. Jesus H. Christ, a pair of vampires in heat.”
Alison looked at Endelle. “I need a shower,” she said and with that, without another word of explanation or of apology or begging of permission, she lifted her hand and vanished.
“Holy shit,” Endelle cried. “She just folded between dimensions!”
Kerrick knew the tunic he wore was not the best outfit to have on for what he was feeling. He was about to beg a fold from Her Supremeness, but Endelle held him back with a slight pressure on his arm. “Hold up, Warrior. I should let you know that we’re not having a public ascension ceremony for Alison.”
“Makes sense.” He really needed to get the hell out of there.
“The little peach isn’t finished yet, so I’m not making it easy on him. We’ll have the ceremony at my palace and a dinner afterward. Got it?”
Kerrick could hardly hear her. He was picturing Alison stripping off all that leather, turning on the faucet, steaming up the shower. And he really needed to teach her a thing or two about warrior-vampires and what they expected from their women.
But Endelle could rattle on. “I want all the warriors present and whether you like it or not, I want Marcus there as well as Havily and no, you don’t need to know the f*ck why. Beyond that, it’ll be a closed ceremony.”
He really didn’t give a good goddamn about Marcus. Especially since his mind was full of Alison, water streaming down her hair, over the curves of her body. He wanted to lick those dimples just above her buttocks.
“I’ve told Thorne to put a twenty-four-hour guard on the Queen Creek house. The warriors will work a rotation through the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow.”
Images of having an entire night with Alison and maybe an entire day did little to calm him down. He nodded once more. “Good. That’s good.”
“All right, horn-dog. Get going.” Endelle lifted her arm and the next moment Kerrick landed ass-first on the granite island in the kitchen.
He didn’t care. His thoughts were all for Alison and her trip inside Leto’s head. He slid off the island, clenched his fists then lowered his chin. He really needed to give her a lesson about inappropriate mind-diving.
He growled low.
His fangs emerged and lengthened.
He listened. He heard the shower running, not in the guest bath but in the master bath.
Oh, yeah. She’d gone to his bedroom this time.
His body shuddered. He got very firm, possessively hard. He needed to make sure she understood that her mind, her body, her blood were not to be shared with anyone except him.
The breh-hedden had returned with a howling vengeance.
He sent her a little message. You are to stay the hell out of Leto’s mind or any other man so long as we’re joined.
* * *
Alison nearly fell on the wet tile as Kerrick’s words punched into her head. She caught herself with one hand by gripping the showerhead just above her. She returned the soap to the inset in the wall behind her then rinsed.
Her heart banged around in her chest, although it wasn’t fear beating at her this time. Kerrick’s voice in her head, laced with jealousy and possessiveness, drove through her body like a fast car on a salt flat and nothing but air in the way.
She knew what was coming and her body screamed for it—full-on sex with her warrior vampire. She pressed her back up against the tile, hardly able to breathe, her hands to either side of her.
Water flowed on her from several different directions, from several different heads.
There would be no preamble this time, or soft touching of her breasts or feathery wet kisses over her abdomen or between her thighs, no teasing sensual fangs probing gently or releasing a seductive potion into her skin.
When he appeared, stripped naked, chin dipped low, fangs distended, expression determined, she was ready. His thick sex was hard as a missile and her knees struggled to work at all. However, she knew in about a nanosecond that would so not be a problem.
He entered the shower growling, his shoulders hunched, his thighs tensed. He slid one arm around her waist, pulled one of her legs up, angled his hips, and drove into her. She threw her head back and cried out, the pleasure so intense she was already close to orgasm. He pounded into her and with just a handful of strokes sent her over the edge. She came so fast and so hard that she doubled over him and bit his shoulder. At the same time, the resulting wave of power struck him and he grunted his pleasure. How much she loved that she couldn’t hurt him.
He kept growling and driving. The man had a point he intended to make and he took his time. She came again, clenching around his rock-hard cock. Each time, waves of her power hit him, and each time he grunted in response. So sexy, he whispered in her mind. All that power. Now tell me you’ll keep clear of other men.
I’ll keep clear.
When she returned to earth, he still drove hard.
“Give me your neck,” he commanded. His split resonance nearly caused her to come again. She tilted her head back and to the side. She would deny him nothing right now. She closed her eyes. He sank his fangs in a quick thrust that stung like hell at first. As soon as he took heavy pulls, desire flared over her neck, over her breasts, and down her abdomen to once again tighten her internal muscles.
She panted in agonizing gasps.
Open your mind, he barked within her head.
Won’t that complete the breh-hedden? she sent.
No. You won’t be taking my blood while I take yours. Full communion requires a simultaneous taking of blood.
Alison was relieved. She wanted this moment with Kerrick, but the thought of the breh-hedden still freaked her out.
Despite her nerves, she opened her mind wide. When he plowed through, his hips still pistoning into her, his fangs drawing blood, she came again and again and again, his body absorbing each attending hit of power. He owned her body right now, her mind, her blood, and the orgasm went on and on. She cried out, her back and buttocks sliding against the tile, the water spraying his back and her face.
When she clenched around him again, she touched his mind that was still in her mind and whispered, Come for me, Warrior. Give me all you’ve got.
He growled loud and low even through the pulls at her neck. She rippled her fingers over his wing-locks. Oh, God, he cried, his voice pummeling her mind.
His body sped up but time slowed. She was so tight around him that she felt every sensation as he slammed into her core then jettisoned his seed into her. He withdrew his fangs at the same moment and shouted in a new split resonance, which echoed around the bath. Euphoria filled her mind, his and hers combined. How strange to feel his pleasure, yet it amplified her own. She screamed as another orgasm caught her. Another jolt of power. She released a plaintive cry, the high keening of a bird in flight.
This would be the right time to die, caught in such an exquisite tangle of sensation, of feeling him in her mind, of hearing his triumphant cry, of having so much pleasure searing her veins.
The tension in her body lessened as each second passed. The rock of his hips slowed and finally stopped, but he remained within, connected to her.
He withdrew from her mind, a sensation she was getting used to, and settled his head on her shoulder. She gently drifted the tips of her fingers up and down his wing-locks. He released a deep sigh, the rise of his chest lifting her once more up and down the tile.
Something new touched her as he pressed his hips in a slow, soft undulation against her, his cock still connected deep, though not nearly as hard. He groaned against her neck.
Deep within, her female organs began to contract and release. She felt the path of his seed and now in her mind she could see a golden trail. How was this even possible? Dear God, how was any of it possible?
Now she could see the chrysalis of her genetic material, a bright burning light at the end of a tunnel. The imagery made her smile then laugh. She could see his sperm, like lightning. She leaned against him, her hand stroking his thick pec. It was all too absurd, too wonderful, and why wouldn’t it be like this? Kerrick was known for his preternatural speed. If his DNA wanted to make a child, why wouldn’t it move at an accelerated rate?
She felt the moment when her egg received his sperm and their child began all the fantastic portentous crazy cell replications.
The whole thing couldn’t really be happening. Maybe she was just fertile and her imagination had gone into hyperdrive. But then she could feel Kerrick’s wing-locks beneath her fingers, and hadn’t his fangs just penetrated her throat?
She knew they had just created life. She wanted to tell him, yet somehow this wasn’t the right time. A frightening premonition jolted her mind. In this limited way, she could see the future or at least sense it. There would be a moment, a critical hour when Kerrick would need to know she carried his child. She understood this as surely as a child grew within her.
Did I hurt you? he asked, touching her mind gently.
Of course not, she returned. She wanted to say more, to tell him how wonderful the moment had been, but she just couldn’t find the right words. Splendor seemed shallow and magnificent really inadequate.
Alison? Are you sure you’re okay? I was kind of rough.
She hugged him. She drew back and met his gaze. She spoke quietly, both aloud and in his head at the same time so that he could feel her sincerity. “How about you do that again every day for the next ten thousand years?”
He smiled. He frowned. He grimaced and growled. He kissed her hard, so hard. He took her mouth with his tongue, the way he’d taken her body with his cock, only this time she got to suckle.
Since he was still inside her, he didn’t have far to go at all when he firmed up. He rocked into her again and as though he’d been as starved for the experience as she was he took her in the shower over and over, until the water ran cold and she really was too exhausted to move one more centimeter any direction.
He rinsed off her legs, toweled her dry, and carried her to his bed. He spooned her. He told her about the dinner party Endelle was giving as part of her ascension ceremony. All very private. She smiled, so content. “Good. I want to meet your warrior brothers.”
“And they want to meet you.”
She squeezed his arm as tears tracked down the side of her face and onto the pillow. What had Joy said? Why don’t you find a bodybuilder, someone who could handle all that power? She smiled and wept some more.
She breathed deeply, her heart so very full.
Kerrick and a child. And one more day of her rite of ascension and she would be in the clear, no longer at the mercy of Greaves’s plans to annihilate her.
All her dreams seemed to be coming true. How grateful she was that she had chosen to ascend, despite the battle with Leto.
And how far away all her old fears had drifted. She belonged on Second Earth. Her powers could be used for good in this new world. Hadn’t she proven her worth during the arena battle? She was so happy. To think she had done the impossible and yet her powers had made the impossible possible. She had vanquished Leto without harming him.
This was who she was in the deepest parts of body, mind, spirit. She was a giver of life, not a taker.
Her hand slid over her abdomen.
A giver of life.
* * *
Crace had returned to the Commander’s office. He felt blanked out and empty.
He sat in the laid-back, slanted chair in front of his deity’s battleship desk, his gaze fixed to the bank of Italian cypresses. Another whirring. Another quarter turn. The lights blazed to keep the shrubs healthy.
He reverted his gaze to Greaves.
The Commander sat very quietly, his tall-backed executive chair swiveled away from Crace. Given the position, Crace had a side view of Greaves. He had his elbows on the arms of the chair, his hands brought together, the fingers of his right hand steepled with the claws of his left.
He had no expectations at this point. He knew the failure of the arena battle was not his fault just as he had known that the failure of the regiment to off Kerrick and Alison in Carefree had not been his fault.
But what the hell did that matter? Alison still lived and there didn’t seem to be any way around so critical a point. Jesus. Reversal of time. Re-identification of hard metals. Impenetrable shields.
His mind swam. Crace was very powerful, but he couldn’t do these things. These were not even powers typical of Second. These were Third abilities.
An ascendiate with Third abilities.
Geneva seemed as remote as the moon right now. Lake Michigan would dry up before he ever won a seat at the Round Table.
“You despair too easily, my friend,” came the silky voice.
“I failed you, master. Why would I not despair? I came to Phoenix with such hope of truly being of use to you.”
The Commander turned in his direction, leaning his bald head against the cushioned high back of his leather chair. He had the cleanest nails, at least on his right hand, and the onyx ring winked beneath the recessed lights. “What makes you think you have not been of use to me?”
Crace shrugged. He had no fear in this moment. How could he, when he was a dead man? “Alison lives.”
The Commander held his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable as he nodded faintly. “Yes, she does. But have you no other suggestions for me?”
Crace blinked. The Commander wanted a suggestion?
“We have one more day,” Greaves said. “Surely we can accomplish something in a day.”
Crace drew in a sharp breath. “And you wish me to continue on?”
Greaves nodded. “Of course. However, I do have a requirement at this juncture in our intimate association, a gesture I’d like you to make as a symbol of your fealty and devotion to the Coming Order.”
Greaves held out his palm and a flagon appeared, an ornate ceramic goblet with purple grapes clinging to the sides, a green vine forming the stem and base. He set the flagon on the dark wood of the desk.
Crace could hear his heart thrumming in his ears. He stretched his nostrils and smelled the most delicious bouquet of human blood, laced with something so fine, a delicate flower-like fragrance, a hint of gardenia perhaps. His heart rate increased. The scent aroused him. He needed the contents of the flagon. Whatever it was, he had to have it. Now.
Then he knew.
“Why?” he asked, his heart thudding heavily, a cross between absolute panic and intense desire.
“I must be assured of your loyalties at every step of the way from this point forward.” He held out his right hand again, and a small crystal goblet appeared bearing a swirl of gold liquid.
The antidote.
Crace had heard rumors for decades. He thought of Harding, who had trimmed down in the past ten years and whose face had grown more pleasing. Even his heavy jowls had shrunk. Harding. The Commander’s devoted pawn.
He stared at the flagon. Of course. He was not being given a choice. He was not so stupid as to think otherwise. He hoisted himself from the chair and rose unsteadily. He felt dizzy, sick to his stomach. He’d heard accounts over the years from death vampires about the unimaginable thrill of taking dying blood for the first time.
So this was to be his life, his future.
He confessed he had always wanted to try …
He didn’t look at the Commander. There was no point.
He put a shaking hand about the bowl of the goblet, drawing it close. He swirled the blood, which moved sluggishly. The movement once more released the faint flowery bouquet. He closed his eyes. He had fantasized about doing this. What man hadn’t since the erotic properties of such blood was widely known?
He put the flagon to his lips.
“Yes,” the Commander whispered, the thinnest hiss across the desk.
Crace breathed and tipped the flagon. A flow of blood hit his lips, his tongue, the sensitive pockets of his mouth. He groaned. Gardenia, spice, blood flowed into his throat and ran in a river down, down, down. He had never tasted anything so divine. He grew hard as a rock, throbbed now and wept. The small of his back tightened and without warning an orgasm surged through him, powerful, direct, a stunning surprise. He resisted the urge to pump with his hand. However, touching wasn’t at all necessary as the climax rolled through him and filled his briefs.
Euphoria hit, a sense that all was right with the world and would be forevermore. He had never known such peace, such well-being, such pleasure still riding his cock, racing through his veins, invading his mind. He loved the universe and the universe loved him back. Life would never be more perfect.
Without warning his mind speckled black and white until he found himself stretched out on the carpet, flat on his back, the flagon gone.
He had only one thought. He should have done this a long, long time ago and couldn’t think why he had ever resisted the best experience of his life.
“Feeling better?” Greaves had moved to stand over him.
Crace looked up at his master. Yes, he felt better, stronger, more powerful than ever. Unbelievably. He rose to his feet with ease. He stared at the Commander and understood. This was the source of Greaves’s advanced power. He knew it without having to be told.
The Commander merely laughed. “Now let us discuss what we can accomplish where our troublesome ascendiate is concerned.”
Crace’s mind had never been so clear, his energy so strong, his abilities so at the fore. “I recommend subterfuge, something unexpected.”
At that, the Commander’s left brow rose. “An idea so soon?”
“Tell me what you know of ascendiate Wells. Tell me what she fears.”
Greaves told Crace and Crace smiled. “Then we will use her power against her chosen clan. Many will die and she will be broken … forever.”
The Commander smiled, a warm easy curve of his lips. “Now you have shown me something.”
“The only difficulty I foresee is Madame Endelle.”
“I will manage the Supreme High Administrator at the time of the attack.” He cast his arm in the direction of the massive ebony desk. “When you are ready, make use of the antidote. Just don’t wait too long. Waiting allows dying blood to act on the features, to create excessive beauty as well as the paling and bluing of the skin. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.” He nodded.
“I have matters to attend to. Once again, put your plans together. When I return, we’ll march through the details.”
“Very good, master.”
The Commander lifted an arm and vanished.
Crace remained in the same position for a long time, staring at nothing, savoring the bliss in his stomach, his veins, his head. He had never felt so alive, but he wanted to hold to this exhilarating sense of power as long as he could. The antidote could wait a little while longer, maybe long enough to get to his wife and make use of her exquisite body.
Arousal returned in a flame of sensation. He thought the thought and returned to the Bredstone, to his wife. He folded the antidote to him as well. Still, he didn’t want to mar this first experience. Yes, the antidote could wait.
Leaving a world behind,
Slays the heart.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth