Caressed by Moonlight (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

The hot bath had been wonderful, better than anything she could have imagined. Her hair was washed and braided, her skin pink and warm. Victoria lay under the coverlet basking in the pleasure of its softness. She loved beds, blankets, pillows, and most of all she loved the man laying next to her. She scooted over and pressed herself up against his side before she slipped into a sleep that would not last long.

Bang!

Victoria woke with a start, her heart pounding. The room was dark. She reached for Dorian but he was not beside her.

Shoving back the blankets she came to her feet.

“Dorian?” she whispered.

No answer.

Her throat grew tight as horrible images flashed before her eyes. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

Victoria frantically sought out her clothes, her hands quickly found her over sized shirt and did up the buttons, next she yanked her pants on, slipped her bare feet into her boots and shoved her hair under a cap. Dropping to her knees, she fumbled through her bags in search of her dagger.

Another crash sounded; it was louder, closer than the first.

Pressing her ear against the wood panel door, she tried to hear what was going on. A few grunts and groans along with the sound of ripping fabric and steel clashing, greeted her ears. Her instincts told her that Dorian was out there in the fight and she would join him.

Before she could reach for the knob, the door splintered.

She jumped back just in time to escape being crushed by its weight and the two men that came along with it. They both regained their feet and, without a glance to her, they started back to the fight.

They were sent to the floor again, this time with a third man, who lay unconscious and sprawled across them.

Victoria darted from the room and slammed full speed into a man’s chest. Blind panic gripped her as she swung, her fist connecting with her capture’s jaw. He imprisoned her wrists, twisted her arms back, bringing her tightly to him. Her heart pounding wildly, she struggled, trying with all her might to break free.

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“Stop your fussing.”

Dorian’s whisper was raw and animalistic and it filled Victoria with joy. She sagged against him ecstatic he was holding her.

Growling, he violently shoved her behind him. Victoria slipped, grabbing hold of Dorian’s shoulder to stop her fall.

Looking down her eyes grew wide. Blood! Blood was everywhere.

Her eyes shot up and her breath caught. She could not move, could not speak, and could not breathe as she gazed upon Dorian’s back, his shirt in shreds. Slashes covered his shoulders and deep gouges adorned his sides, blood flowed without a care.

Dorian jabbed his blade into the hunter’s gut and wrenched it up, laying the witch open. The body collapsed to the floor. He turned. Grabbing Victoria by the arm, he dragged her to the stairs.

“Go down to the stables,” he demanded, giving her the push she needed to move.

Terror hit her like a blow. He was a beast. His eyes devil black, his fangs long, and his hair wild. This was the vampire. He was to be obeyed.

She sprinted down the stairs, Dorian right behind her. Her heart thundered as the sound of heavy footsteps followed them.

“Hurry,” he urged before he turned and met the witch’s attack.

Snarling and roaring like a lion, he lashed out with his dagger, the foul scent of witch blood wafted in the air. Victoria did not look back. She flung the door open, and plunged into the cold night. She ran as fast as she could toward the stables. A scream ripped from her throat as an arm wrapped about her waist and hoisted her up. She kicked back, her heel slamming into the man’s shin. He fell to his knees, his grip loosened, but she was trapped beneath him. Bringing her knife forward she sliced open his arm.

The hunter cursed and his body seized.

Victoria scrambled to her feet, losing her cap. Her braid was caught and she was yanked back.

“I’m glad to see that you are no young lad. We can have some fun with you,” he hissed in her ear.

Bile rose to her mouth. Thrashing, she tried to break free but his hold on her was tight. He laughed at her struggles. A deadly roar brought her capture’s giggles to an abrupt halt. Turning, keeping her in front of him, he faced Dorian. Blood dripped from his claw like nails, his black eyes burned with fury, promising
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eternal suffering. The vampire tightened his arm about her waist, his putrid breath coming faster with fear.

“You want her?” he baited Dorian. “She is pretty.” She almost heaved when his tongue touched her neck. “She must be delicious.”

An unearthly howl split the night as Dorian attacked like a starved wolf. The vampire shoved Victoria aside, pain shot up her arms as she used them to break her fall. Rolling away from the men, she jumped to her feet. Another vampire came at her. She dodged his open arms, slicing his shoulder. The vampire stiffened and crashed to the earth. She sprinted to the stables and threw the doors open.

Victoria turned, hoping to find her husband right behind her. Her heart stopped and her breath froze, sharp shards of ice coated her throat and lungs. Dorian was an animal, a wild, insane beast from the depths of hell. His fangs glistened in the moonlight as blood fell like rain. He was now fighting four witches. The vampire that had grabbed her hair lay motionless, his life’s fluid darkening the soil.

A cold hand slithered around her throat. She tried to call out, but found it impossible as she collided with the wall of the stable. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. The fingers tightened, cutting off her breath. Kicking frantically, she clawed at the hand.

“King Vlakhos!” the man called.

Victoria’s eyes darted to her husband. He was just coming to his feet, crimson saturated and dripped from his once white, crisp shirt.

“I’ve got your little whore.”

Flames jumped in Dorian’s dead eyes. “Kal.” The voice that once caressed her ears was now hoarse, evil.

“That’s right. It’s nice to see you again.” He loosened his hold on Victoria. She desperately gasped for air. “And with such a lovely wench, but then again, you always had a way with the ladies. Or maybe it was your money that they liked. I guess I’ll find out once you’re gone.”

“Cocky bastard,” Victoria spat.

“Sharp tongue, we’ll see what we can do about that.”

Dorian stepped forward and Kal pressed his fingers into her flesh again. “Careful,” he warned.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I think it will be the other way around.”

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In a flash, Dorian was next to her and Kal’s cheek was laid open. Rage tore at Kal as he lashed out at his foe, forgetting about Victoria, he dropped her. She scooted away and cursed. She had lost her knife. Where the hell was it? Glancing about she spotted its steel blade sparkling in the moon’s glow. She pushed herself to her feet. Her legs shook from lack of oxygen. She cried out with relief as her finger slipped around the hilt, but it quickly turned to pain as she was once again yanked back by her hair. With her hand raised she swung around, the blade high.

Kal clasped her wrist and wrenched the dagger away. He threw her to the ground and rounded.

“No!” Victoria’s scream was all that could be heard in the still night as Dorian fell to his knees. His eyes slowly faded to their tempest sea green as his fangs vanished. His hand clasped the handle of the dagger buried in his chest.

“Dorian!”

Her name was a silent whisper on his lips as his large body collapsed to the ground. He lay drenched in blood, his own soaking the earth. Tears slipped unnoticed from her eyes, her heart screaming in agony, her mouth dry as she voicelessly chanted, “I love you.”

“Thanks for the weapon, my dear. Without it, I would be like the others, cut up and bleeding.”

She did not hear his words and could not hear her screams.

She did not smell the stench of the witch blood pooled about the yard, she could not feel the soft bite of the breeze, and she could not see the carnage about her. All she could hear was Dorian’s silence, all she could smell was his rich blood, all she could feel was the coldness of death, and all she could see was her lifeless husband.

“Enough of that crying,” Kal snarled, yanking her to her feet.

Victoria attacked with the only weapons left to her. She scratched, bit, and kicked. Kal struggled to keep a hold of her before he finally struck, and her world turned black.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

The great hall was cold and silent. No one dared to speak, their eyes down cast, all terrified to meet Kal's gaze.

“I look around and all I see are idiots. Honestly, what good are any of you? Dorian was just an hour outside our walls!” Kal's voice shook with rage, his fangs bared and glistened in the light of the fire, which cracked and snapped in the hearth. Its blaze matched the storm of emotions that coursed through him. He was furious with his men. They had been useless. He had ordered patrols set and guards posted at every town, but Dorian had slipped past them all. A traitor must be among his company, which was the only explanation for Dorian’s successful invasion.

Kal scanned the faces of the men, his eyes moving down the length of the table to his left then skipping over the woman he had dumped at the end of the table and back up the right side. Each man hung his head, none making eye contact with him, except for the witch who sat closest to the woman. Jacque’s black eyes met his, unwavering as if challenging him. But the hunter was no threat to his power. Jacque no longer held sway over the witches and we would never go against the Red Order. Still, his gut twisted with the thought of sabotage. Many within the walls of the keep knew his plans; therefore everyone was a suspect as far as he was concerned.

Growling low in his throat, he bit out, “I should let the witches burn you all.” The long table moaned in pain as Kal slammed his fist down. He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with cool air. He needed to calm down; he needed to think clearly if he was going to find out who the traitor was. His temper was going to get him nowhere, just like it had all those years ago when the crown had been passed to Dorian. It was supposed to be his. He had been a loyal and obedient servant to King Viktor; he did everything that was ever asked of him. But his foul rage had robbed him of the throne. Kal was not about to let it happen again.

Not when he was so close.

Opening his eyes, he cleared his throat, and spoke with the smoothest voice he could manage. “The moment the sun sets I will ride out to fetch Dorian’s body. The sun will do it no harm.

Jacque,” he shouted down the table. “You and whatever men that
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you pick will accompany me.” The witch nodded. “As for the rest of you, you are dismissed.”

A collective sigh of relief echoed in the hall as the vampires stood and shuffled off to their chambers. The sun hung high in the sky and sleep clouded their minds.

Kal slowly walked to the end of the table. Jacque had not moved; he still sat nonchalantly next to the body of the young woman.

“Once I bring in Dorian and lay him here on the table for all to see, no one will be able to protest my rule. Dorian is dead and I shall be the new Chieftain of the clan, as is my duty and right as his second.”

“What of the girl?” Jacque asked, waving his hand toward the still sleeping woman. “Why did you bring her here? Who is she?”

“She was with Dorian last night. She is covered with his foul stench.” Glancing about the hall, he wanted to be sure that there was no one to hear his next words. Dropping his voice low he rasped, “I know you and I have our differences. I know you are here to make sure your witches don’t trigger a full-scale war, the Red Order is strong but they would never be able to stand against all the vampire clans. But I have reason to believe that there is a traitor among us and it could possibly be one of the witches.”

“Or one of your own vampires.”

Kal shrugged. “This girl may know who the traitor is.”

“Dorian is, or I should say was, very cunning. He could have snuck in right under our noses on his own.”

Kal shook his head.

“He was smart, but not that smart.” He finally allowed his eyes to fall to the slumbering woman. He had given her a good knock to the head and at first he feared he might have killed her. A blow like that was normally fatal to humans. Kal studied her for the first time in the light of the hall. Her features were delicate, her dark hair soft, skin as smooth as silk. But there was something about this woman that was different. He leaned down and sniffed at her like a curious dog. She smelt human yet there was something else, something vampiric in aroma.

“She will be the first of my line,” he declared. “Dorian’s female.” He fingered the collar of the woman’s shirt. “You should have seen the way he fought for her. He was like a crazed beast.

She must have meant something to him and she will be my last instrument of revenge.” Dusting some dirt from her cheek he
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continued, “I want you to take her up to Dorian’s chamber and make sure she stays there.”

“You want a guard at the door or a spell?”

“Both.”

“I will need supplies.”

“Go scavenge the forest for whatever herbs you require.

Just do what I commanded. She is to go nowhere. The crowning ceremony will take place in three nights, when the moon is full and high in the black sky. I have been waiting for Dorian’s death for far too long and now that it is here I’m not going to allow anything or anyone to stop me from being king.” With that vow, Kal turned to the stairs. He would sleep well this day. He was finally getting what he deserved.

Jacque watched Kal disappear up the left staircase. He looked Dorian’s queen over before scooping her up. Her limp limbs dangled and swayed as he walked and mounted the right stairwell that led to the master’s chambers. Kal had refused to move into Dorian’s room. He claimed that he wanted nothing to do with anything that belonged to Dorian personally. However, that opinion seemed to end where Victoria was concerned. She was a beautiful woman and in her case, beauty was a curse.

Jacque’s stomach had churned with dread when Kal stomped into the great hall, Victoria slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. His heart stopped when he dumped her almost lifeless body on the table. In that moment, he knew that Dorian had been killed. He now had to come up with some way to get rid of Kal himself. The only problem was that if he killed Kal, a civil war would break out, since there would be no clear successor to the Mylonas throne. He could not allow anyone to learn that Victoria was Dorian’s mate, for Kal’s men would surely kill her.

Shoving the heavy door open, he entered the almost bare room. He went to the large canopy bed that stood on a raised dais directly across from the door and gently laid Victoria down.

At least she was not dead. All he could do was thank the stars that she was already beginning to change. It would not be completed until the next full moon, in three days. He would need to drug her through the pain, if possible. He had seen a few humans transform, their cries of pain had nearly made him sick.

She would wake up in a few hours. That would give him time to retrieve Dorian’s body and take it to Raphael; he had been staying at Hadrian’s castle. The vampire was not yet fully recovered but this unfortunate event would force Raphael out of
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hiding and into action. Raphael would have to challenge Kal for the throne. Kal had been declared Dorian’s second years ago, but Jacque had learned from Horace, that Raphael possessed a letter written by Dorian transferring the title to him.

Jacque chanted a protective spell over the queen to insure her safety, nothing mattered more. Now, more than ever, Jacque knew exactly what he needed to do. Squaring his shoulders and firming his jaw, he gave a determined nod to his reflection in the full-length mirror that stood on the opposite side of the massive kingly bed.

Slipping from the room, he silently closed the door, not wanting to rudely awaken the poor woman. She would be frightened enough when she finally woke on her own, he did not need to add to her alarm.

He was relieved to find only Kal’s squire, Henry, in the great hall. With no one of consequence about, he would be able to slide from the keep unnoticed. He was fortunate that the sun was high in the clear sky. Most vampires found this time of day very taxing and sought the comfort of their beds. As a matter of fact, poor Henry looked exhausted. But even though it was noon he still had very little time to waste. He had a few precious hours before the sun set to plant the seeds of Kal’s destruction.

“Henry!” he called to the boy. “Will you please inform Kal that I went out to collect supplies for my spells? Also, notify George and Roy that they will be accompanying Kal and me to retrieve Dorian’s body once the sun has gone to rest.”

Henry nodded and yawned.

Jacque dismissed the young naïve vampire before he escaped through the back door of the kitchen. He slowly made his way across the open training yard to the stables. Before entering the large enclosure he took up a bucket and a pair of gloves. He needed to make it look as if he was going out hunting for berries and herbs and not to take Dorian’s body to Raphael and the Mylonas allies.

Glancing about the stables, his nostrils filling with the scent of hay and horse piss, Jacque made sure he was alone before saddling Dorian’s prized mount, Alexander. Jacque had not been shocked when he learned the stallion was named after the Macedonian, Alexander the Great. The animal was charged with pent up energy for it had been neglected since Dorian had left.

Once Jacque took the reins the beast shot out of the stable like a cannon ball leaving the witch to hold on for dear life.

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Nothing but smoke and the stench of burnt vampire flesh greeted Jacque when he came to the once thriving town. He dismounted and walked along the chard ruins of homes and businesses. Kal and his men must have set the town on fire before they left. Ashes crunched under his feet, some floated above his head on the sweet breeze. Flames devoured the remaining homes.

Jacque’s stomach turned upside down when his eyes found Dorian on the ground. The earth around him was black, soaked with blood.

Unable to bare the sight of the noble king, Jacque removed his cloak and draped it over the body. With trembling hands, he lifted Dorian’s lifeless frame. His voice shook from his grief as he called the horse to him. The animal cautiously trotted over and nudged the limp man with his nose.

“I know how you feel,” Jacque whispered to the mount as he rested the dead king across its back. “At least we’ll take him to friends who can give him a proper burial, one deserving of a great vampire like your master.”

Jacque spared a glance up at the sky calculating the time of day and cursed as he turned the warhorse toward the Validus strong hold. He was glad that the border was not far for he needed to return to the keep before sunset.

“Someone approaches the gate.”

Raphael straightened. He and three of Hadrian’s best generals had been hunched over the large map of Mylonas land for hours trying to decide where they should invade and how they would attack the fortress. He was in no shape to fight, his wounds from Kal’s ambush had not quite finished healing, but there was no time to wait for such trivial things.

“Who is it?” Horace, the general Falcon had left in charge, demanded, his hand resting on his sword hilt.

“It’s a witch waving a white handkerchief,” the mortal look out announced from his perch in the rafters. “Should I tell the others to allow him entry?”

“Is he alone?” Raphael asked.

“As far as I can tell.”

Horace looked to his men then Raphael. “What do you think?”

“If he is alone, he can’t mean to do much damage,”

Raphael answered.

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“Open the gates and have him escorted to the keep,” he called up to the look out. “Be prepared men. We don’t know what this witch wants.”

The warriors held their weapons, ready, waiting for an attack. They hugged the walls hiding from the rays of the sun that would gain entry when the large doors were opened.

The witch entered with a vampire’s body tossed over his shoulder.

“I am Jacque Spinle,” he announced his name, his voice echoing through the hall.

Recognizing the name, Raphael waved for the soldiers to put down their weapons. Horace sheathed his sword and stepped forward, he had been receiving reports from this particular witch, but he had not expected him to cross the border.

“What brings you here?” Horace asked.

“King Vlakhos,” the witch answered, as he crossed to the table. Wiping the maps aside he laid his burden down.

Raphael was the first to step forward. With shaking hands, he pulled back the cloak to reveal his master's bloodied face. Tears gathered in his eyes as he gazed upon his friend. His fists curled by his sides, anger and despair whirled in his heart like a tornado. He wanted to howl but his mouth was dry, his throat tight.

“Oh, God.” Horace whispered.

“Was it Kal?” Raphael demanded.

“Yes.”

“He'll pay.”

“Dorian's woman is safe–”

Jacque was not surprised when every face turned to him and every voice asked, “Woman?”

“Yes, Dorian got a bit friendly with a beautiful English debutante, married her, and brought her back with him,” he explained.

“His mate?” Raphael pressed. Could it be? Could Dorian actually be the first king to ever find his match? Many vampires believed the story to be a myth; something the Fathers had cooked up to give their successors hope. It was a story told around the fire and was never believed. Every king before had fallen ill and met their end. It seemed that peace would never come to their world. If Dorian had found her, than all was not lost.

“Yes.”

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“He finally found his queen,” Horace sighed, shaking his head.

“She is safe? Where?” Raphael said, turning his back on the body. He could not look at it anymore.

“She is at the keep, locked in Dorian's chambers. Kal took a fancy to the poor girl and plans on making her the first of his line.

He still refuses to admit that he isn't strong enough to change humans.”

“Has Dorian bonded with her yet?”

Everyone knew the legend but none knew how it worked.

There was a belief that once the vampire mated with his woman and took her blood the two would become connected.