Caressed by Moonlight (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Dorian slumped in his chair before the bay window. The sun's soft glow was beginning to skip across the water, chasing away the darkness of night. His hands shook as he ran them through his hair. He breathed a heavy sigh, trying to calm his demons. He had gone too long without blood and he needed to feed. For the past week he had been ignoring his hunger, pushing it aside, but it had surfaced. He had almost taken the forbidden blood of a Red witch. Falcon, as a Black Knight, sworn to up hold all vampire laws, would have been forced to slay him there before all if he had taken one drop of Mark's blood.

The beast inside him had taken control. How could he have let that happen? He thanked God that Victoria had not seen him become the monster of myth.

“The ship is loaded,” Falcon announced, shutting the cabin door behind him.

“The hunters are coming,” Dorian stated with a distracted sigh. He could smell their magic; hear their footsteps and their strong heartbeats. “Tell the men to lift anchor.”

“I did.”

Dorian nodded and continued to stare out the window. A dead silence filled the room. Falcon leaned against the door, questions sitting on his lips, but he was not daring enough to ask them. He knew Dorian was powerful, he was the oldest and strongest of their kind, but he still had to feed. Falcon wondered how often Dorian needed to take blood. The necessity for blood became less and less as a vampire aged, until they no longer required the life giving liquid.

“Six months,” Dorian said to the silence, answering Falcon's unspoken question. “Every six months I must feed and I am almost two weeks past my date.”

Jacque's words rang in Falcon’s ears as he thought of the danger Dorian now was to Victoria and Margaret. Falcon doubted his ability to protect them. He was strong but Dorian was stronger.

What would he do if Dorian became crazed?

“Why did you wait so long?” The king shrugged his large shoulders in answer. “A common waterfront street walker would suffice,” Falcon offered.

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“And have Victoria see her leave my cabin? No.” He shook his head. “I have enough problems with my wife as it is. I don’t need to add to them.”

“But you must feed before we set to sea,” Falcon argued.

“It is dangerous if you wait too long. You could go mad.”

“I am well aware of the consequences. I have gone hungry before, it is nothing that I can’t handle.”

“But this voyage is not a short one, Dorian. You must–”

“I said no!” Dorian snapped, slamming his hand down on the arm of his chair.

“Think of Victoria and Margaret,” he pleaded. “What if you attack one of them?”

“I trust you to keep them safe. If you must chain me to this chair, so be it. If I do attack them, you will kill me, simple as that.”

“Kill you and have Kal become king? Have you forgotten that Raphael never made it to your keep with your letter?”

“I have forgotten nothing.”

“Do you really think that Kal will step aside for Raphael? I would love to say that I would help Raphael win your crown but after nearly a hundred years of civil war, my clan has finally settled. I will not march them into battle against a depraved, power hungry vampire.”

“Then keep me in this damn room,” Dorian snarled. His nerves were raw and he was quickly losing patience. His head pounded. He groaned as he thought of the pain he would suffer as time went on and his hunger grew. This was not going to be a pleasant voyage home.

“I don't think–” Falcon’s words lodged in his throat, his eyes shot to the door.

Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. Victoria's scent drifted softly through the air as her sweet pulse vibrated through his body.

He shuddered visibly as she called his name. A cool numbness washed over him like a tidal wave, relieving the aching tension of his muscles and the pain that cut through his skull.

“Open the door,” Dorian rasped softly.

Falcon hesitated before complying. He cracked open the door and stepped aside creating just enough space for Victoria to slip through. He never once took his eyes off of the king.

Victoria entered the cabin and was immediately assaulted by a dark cloud of tension that almost made it impossible for her to breathe. She glanced between the two men. Falcon's cold silver eyes were fixed on Dorian's strong profile, watching and waiting
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for something, anything. Falcon's fingers rested on the knife tethered to his side while Dorian sat motionless in his chair.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“No,” Dorian answered turning to look at her.

A strange tingle spread across the back of her neck as Dorian's empty blue-green eyes touched hers. Her breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. He stood with a slow predatory grace.

“Will you leave us?”

Falcon glanced to Victoria, who gave him a nervous smile before turning back to Dorian.

“I'll be right outside,” he said. He closed the door and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and focusing on the conversation in the captain's cabin.

“Are you well?” she asked.

Her concern touched him and brought a smile to soften his face.

“I'm sorry if I frightened you, kitten. I fear that I'm not quite feeling like myself. I think I may be coming down with something.”

“Then you should be in bed,” she chided lightly heading toward the bed that rested against the left wall.

“I don't think that is necessary, I'm not sick yet.”

She scanned him, carefully studying his features. His face was pale as the moon, his eyes were sea weathered, and his hair was wild. He looked like a caged lion, desperately craving freedom.

Victoria crossed the room to stand at his side before the window. The water glittered with the first rays of the sun as she watched her beloved England slip away. A chill ran down her spine as she thought of the possibility of Mark following them.

“He won't,” Dorian said answering her thoughts. He cursed himself for speaking. When he did not feed his powers were almost impossible to control. Her thoughts drifted through his head like a cloud through the sky.

“Who won't?” she asked, her brows knitting together.

“What I meant to say is, I have dealt with Mark and he will not be following us, but I can't say the same about his men.

Although they have no idea in which direction we have sailed and therefore will have no idea where we are going.”

“I thought we were going to your home.”

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“We are, but we are taking a less traveled route that no one would suspect. It will take us longer to reach my home, but it will be safer.”

Victoria nodded and took his hand. She gasped at the coldness that met her warm flesh.

“Your hands are like ice.”

The warmth of her skin was like an electric shock and it seeped deep into his flesh His bloodlust came charging forward like a hurricane, sweeping him up and tangling him in its torrent.

The intoxicating smell of her blood danced in his nostrils as the feel of her pulse tapped against his hand. His fangs slipped from their hiding place and rubbed against his tongue.

“Dorian?” her voice was filled with concern and laced with fear as his hand caught her wrist. His fingers held her immobile as he bent his head down and took in the clean scent of her hair. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and reached out with his mind seizing hers. He whispered soothing words to calm her fears.

Victoria was captured in a net of dizzying pleasure. His mind dominated hers, filling it with a misty fantasy that stole her breath away. He snatched her roughly to him, pressing their hips together tightly, one arm wrapped about her waist as the other moved to cup the back of her neck. His lips hovered over the tempting pulse of her throat. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, bringing him closer.

Falcon slammed his fist against the wall of the cabin, the sound snapped Dorian back into reality. He cursed and shoved himself away from his tempting wife. She stumbled back from the force of his movements and the release of her mind. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

“Leave.” His words were low and harsh.

Her eyes shot to Dorian, he stood in the far corner of the cabin, his arms wrapped around his middle. He grimaced as pain drilled into his skull. He looked helpless and vulnerable. She took a step toward him and his eyes jumped with evil excitement.

“Leave Victoria.”

“Why?”

The hurt and confusion in her voice was clear, it pierced his heart. She did not understand what had caused such a drastic change in him. He had been romantic and seductive one minute and cold and angry the next.

He had known she shouldn’t be in the room. It was dangerous for her; he could not restrain his hunger. He could easily
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kill her. But he needed her. He needed her caring warm touch and her smooth voice. The beat of her heart pounded in his ears.

“You shouldn't be in here.”

“You are ill,” she said, ignoring his words.

She was coming towards him now. He turned his back as she reached for his arm.

“Dorian?” She was standing behind him now, he was aware of her every move, her every breath, her every thought, and every beat of her heart. She wanted to ease his pain and was willing to do anything to help her husband. Victoria ran her hand up his back and Dorian hissed. Her touch was the perfect blend of ecstasy and excruciating pain.

“Please, you need to go,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Why?”

She began to massage his shoulders.

“You aren't safe — I can't control myself.” He cursed as her breath brushed the nape of his neck. His eyes grew black, his fangs burning to pierce her skin. He pulled away needing the distance.

Victoria blinked with a start as he vanished and appeared in his chair before the window. How could he possibly move that fast?

“Get out.”

“But I want to help.”

“Get out!” he bellowed.

Victoria stood motionless and puzzled. She opened her mouth to speak again but he grabbed her shoulders, his fangs flashing. Her eyes were a peculiar blend of fear, confusion, pain, and love. He had never seen anything like those emerald green orbs. He turned and dragged her to the door, flung it open and shoved her into Falcon's waiting arms. He slammed the door shut, the sound of the bolt sliding home cut through her like an executioner's axe.

Falcon turned her about. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes shooting from her neck to her wrists.

“No,” she whispered. Her throat was dry and tight as tears gathered in her eyes. Was that it? What had happened?

“My lady, he is not himself right now. Please don't hold this against him.”

“What is wrong with him?”

“He is very ill. I think it would be best if you keep your distance.” He called for Ophelia who poked her head out of
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Margaret's room down the hall. “Will you please fetch some hot tea and deliver it to the spare cabin?”

The servant nodded and headed to the stairs that descended to the galley. Falcon hooked an arm about Victoria's shoulders and led her to the door across the hall from her sister's.

“I will have your trunks moved to this cabin. It will be safer for you to be in a separate room, away from your husband.”

“Please, Falcon. Tell me what's wrong with him.”

He looked down at her, his gray eyes sympathetic, but he said nothing and turned away.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

The narrow hall was dark, silent, and empty. An evil shadow stood guard at Dorian's door and sneered at Victoria. She leaned against the wall a few feet away. Confusion sparkled in her eyes as her skin tingled with a fearful chill. It had been almost two weeks since the morning she had been flung from Dorian's cabin.

She had pounded on the door, demanding that he let her in, demanding that he speak to her, and demanding that he allow her to help him. He had never answered. He had never even acknowledged her presence. Silence was all that ever greeted her at that door, and then evil came. Dark and forbidding, it swarmed like bees before his door and would only spread to allow Falcon entrance. Victoria found herself envying the man, wishing that she would be able to pass the threshold.

The walls rumbled as a crash reverberated through the air.

Victoria jumped. The noise had come from inside Dorian's cabin.

She wanted to run to the room but fear kept her rooted to the floor.

The door was thrown open and her heart skipped a beat. Her mouth went dry. Falcon stepped from the cabin. She mouthed his name, her voice gone. His eyes turned to her; their tired sympathetic depths swirled with anger. He was about to speak as another quake rocked the ship. He shook his head and turned to the stairs that led to the deck. She took a step forward and, finally finding her voice, she called his name. He ignored her, as he had done every time she called after him. He had not spoken a word to her since the day he had escorted her to her new room.

With a sigh Victoria walked back to her cabin where she found Ophelia busy pouring tea. The kind servant smiled and handed her a cup.

“Thank you.”

“No trouble, my lady. I enjoy sharing evening tea with you.”

Victoria nodded and sat on her small bed. Dobbins had found the lumpy thing for her two days before and she was eternally grateful, for it meant that she no longer had to sleep on the hard wood floor.

“Would you like sugar?”

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Victoria nodded and paid no attention to Ophelia while she dropped two lumps of sugar into her tea. Victoria was lost in thought as she normally was these days. She constantly wondered why Dorian had snubbed her and why Falcon avoided her. She also worried night and day about Dorian and prayed for his welfare.

“Don't fret, my lady, King Dorian will be well once we reach land. He will be back to his normal self again. You'll see.”

“How do you know?” Victoria asked, turning her questioning gaze to the caring woman.

“I have been with the king a long time and I know how he is.”

“The king?”

She had never heard Dorian referred to as king before. Had his father died? That would explain his new title and his current madness. But it didn't explain those black eyes and fangs she had seen. She shook her head discarding the memory. Her imagination had just gotten carried way. There was no way any human could have black as night eyes and fangs like a beast.

“Did Dorian's father pass away? Is that the reason Falcon had come to London? Is that why he had to leave so soon?” It would explain his callousness, his coldness, and his eagerness to leave the city.

Ophelia's heart sank at the hopeful note in the young woman's voice. She did not understand, she was innocent to what Dorian really, truly was, and she was grasping at anything that gave Dorian's strange behavior a rational explanation. But she had to bash the girl's hopes.

“Dorian's father passed on long ago, my lady, along with the rest of his family.”

Victoria's eyes fell to her cup as she slowly took up the spoon and began to stir the cooling tea. She thought she had figured out the mystery, but her guess only pushed her even farther into the dark where the blood-curdling image of her husband with empty eyes and greedy fangs lurked. She had tried to ignore her instincts that told her Dorian was a vampire. She was not a child to be frightened by myths or stories. She knew that there couldn't possibly be vampires, but in the corner of her mind there was a black shadow of doubt.

Her constant pondering made her tired and so she sent Ophelia away and slipped into her lumpy bed.

The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the air smelt
like the sea. Birds sang as they floated from one tree to another
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and butterflies fluttered beside Victoria as she walked along a path
that ended at a meadow filled with daisies. She basked in their
fresh scent before she began to wade through the ocean of flowers.

But she was soon brought to an alarming halt. There, amongst the
yellow of the daisies lay her husband, dressed in black, his arms
crossed behind his head, acting as a pillow, and legs stretched out.

His face was so pale she feared he was dead. Then his eyes slowly
opened.

“Hello kitten,” he greeted, his lips curling back into a
sensual smile.

His magical eyes pinned her now as he gracefully stood
and dusted off his pants. He held his hand out to her and beckoned,

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

She could not resist his voice. She slipped her hand in his.

Victoria was surprised to discover that despite his coloring, his
skin was warm. He smiled, wrapping his fingers about her wrist,
and revealed his long k-nines. A spark of fear shot through her
bringing an excited growl from him. He turned and tugged her
across the flowery meadow to the mouth of a deep, dark forest.

“I don't think we should go in there.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” Dorian said over his
shoulder as he stepped into the forest. “I won't let anything hurt
you.”

“Except you,” she replied. He smiled and pulled her into
the cover of the sinister trees.

Evil eyes watched them as they weaved through the forest.

They burned with delight at Victoria's nervousness and unease.

Her heart pounded as Dorian pulled her further from the light and
goodness of the meadow. The Devil was in these woods and she
has a feeling the Devil was her husband. He stepped silently over
the fallen dried leaves and twigs as she stumbled. She could hardly
see him at an arms length in front of her, but he could see
perfectly.

“What is it that you want to show me?” she asked, her
voice shaking.

“Sh,” he hushed, the sound was soothing to her fear. “You
don't want to ruin the surprise do you?”

His grip on her wrist tightened as they hiked up a small
incline, Victoria tripped on the hem of her dress every other step
she took. Once they reached the top she froze, standing as rigid as
a pole, peering blindly into the jaws of a black cave. Dorian
allowed her hand to slip from his as he entered the darkness. She
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swallowed hard and brought trembling fingers to her throat. Her
stomach twisted with terror as horrifying images of blood and
death flashed before her eyes. He was evil, every instinct she had
screamed it, but she knew she could not escape him. If she ran he
would catch her. If she hid, he would find her. This forest was his;
this world of darkness was his.

“Come,” he said holding his hand out to her. His eyes
flickered violently between their romantic sea green and lethal
black.

She tried to ignore his sinfully seductive voice, but it
clouded her mind and brought her forward. “I need you,” he
whispered.

She lifted her hand and reached for his, she could feel the
warmth of his flesh.

Falcon yanked Victoria back and snapped, “What are you doing?”

Dorian slammed his fists against the door, enraged. Falcon tucked her under his arm and led her down the hall. She peered up at him, her eyes filled with confusion and Falcon cursed. He had not thought Dorian would try to pull this trick. He knew the king could enter people's dreams and he had used his ability to lure Victoria to him. Falcon shivered as he thought of what could have

– No – what would have happened if he had not found her. She had been reaching for the doorknob. Her hand had been but a fraction of an inch from gaining entry.

“What happened?” she asked as her eyes finally took in her surroundings.

“Go back to bed, my lady, and stay there,” Falcon demanded before he turned and once again went to the stairs to seek the coolness of the sea air.

“Wait!” she called after him, but he kept walking, as he always did. This time, she was not about to let him go. She followed him up the steps and out into the night.

“I said go to bed.”

“No.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I have questions that need answers. Since my husband is incapable of providing those answers at the moment the burden falls to you.” She tilted her chin up, challenging him to protest. He said nothing and she
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sighed, dropping her arms. “I just need to understand what is going on. I know you have been avoiding me these past few weeks and I think it's because you are afraid of my questions.”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I’m afraid of the answers.”

“I am his wife and I deserve to know what has happened to him.”

“Nothing has
happened
to him.”

“What do you mean?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing.

He did not answer.

“Please, talk to me.”

“I can’t. It’s not my place.”

“Damn it, Falcon! Tell me. Is there something wrong with my husband?”

“There is nothing
wrong
with him. It is negligence that has put him in this situation.” Falcon snapped his mouth shut fearing he had said too much. Dorian would be furious if he spilled their secret and in truth it was not his responsibility to tell her of their race.

Victoria slowly walked to the railing. She leaned over and gazed down at the shimmering deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Nothing has happened to him and nothing is wrong with him,” she whispered to herself, and then added to Falcon, “I haven't been able to get the image of Dorian out of my mind. Those deep haunted black eyes and gruesome fangs.” She paused in thought before she turned to Falcon and asked, “What is he?”

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