Crimson Reign (11 page)

In all their time together, Malachi was only tempted to drink from the male on one occasion. They’d been celebrating their graduation from law school, trolling the streets in search of entertainment. From a side alley, a gang of ruffians thought to take advantage of the ‘dandies.’ The filth never actually stood a chance, but neither they, nor Vischeral knew it. The fight had been brutal, but satisfying. Malachi pulled his punches enough not to shock his companion and a short time later, they stood victorious. Vischeral had lunged at him in exhilaration wrapping strong arms around his neck in a celebratory hug.

The split lip, oozing blood, called powerfully to the vampire’s bloodlust heightened by the brawl. The hard body pressed to his own, sweaty and heated from the fight emitted an even more primal call, sexual need. Malachi responded before he could catch himself. Fangs descended, his eyes went crimson and his cock sprang to attention. The human had stiffened, his confusion permeating the air.

“Mal?” He tried to pull away, but Malachi held him close fighting to control the vampiric side of his nature. Vischeral hadn’t struggled, simply waited until Malachi loosened his arms enough he could lean back. Midnight eyes met his own, now the flat black of their usual state. Questions he couldn’t answer lurked in Vischeral’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Vish.” Realizing he still held the male, he dropped his arms and stepped back, but Vischeral followed him staying impossibly close. “I…there are things about me that I haven’t told you. I should have, it’s just…” Vischeral’s fingers covered his mouth, stopping the words. The questions disappeared from his eyes replaced by curiosity. And awareness. Surprised, Malachi stood frozen as the man moved even closer until their chests once more touched.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” The two words leeched all of the air from Malachi’s lungs. His gaze had lowered to Vischeral’s firm lush, bleeding lips. “Vischeral, I don’t think you know what you’re asking. You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking, Malachi. I can see you want to do it.” His hips had ground into Malachi’s, his arousal painfully obvious to the human. “I can feel it. Now, kiss me Mal. I might not have the courage to offer again.”

He’d gazed into those eyes and saw the last part wasn’t entirely true. Vischeral wanted the kiss as much as he did, and suddenly a future the scholars wrote about didn’t seem impossible for him. The first contact was a brief brush of lips against lips, barely a taste. Vischeral groaned and brought his hands up to fist in Malachi’s hair.

Hunger fully aroused, Malachi spun the male into the shadows slamming him into the building, their mouths fused. The kiss had been everything Malachi expected. The male’s mouth was hot and sultry. He tasted of the fine Scotch whiskey they’d had earlier, tangy blood, and his own unique flavor. Their tongues clashed and stroked, delving in to taste the other. Malachi’s blood surged like molten lava through his veins. He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down that strong bronze throat hovering just over the vein. Again, his fangs burst through his gums. He’d smelled the rich blood, drew back to strike and all hell broke loose.

A savage roar blasted the air and Malachi went flying backward crashing into the building on the opposite side of the alley. When he blinked to clear his vision, Laziel stood in the alley, the human raised above his head dangling from his fist. Power surged from the angel in scalding waves as he stared up at the male. Malachi saw Vischeral’s death with absolute certainty, but didn’t understand the why of it. He only knew he had to get his friend out of the angel’s grasp. Lunging away from the wall, he’d tackled his guardian rolling through the filth in a tangle of arms and legs. Punches flew and growls ricocheted off the wall as Malachi fought to subdue the only being he knew he had no chance of bringing under control.

“Laziel. STOP! It’s me. Malachi.” Astride the celestial for the moment, he’d leaned down so they were nose to nose. “It’s Lachi, angel. It’s me.” Recognition finally registered in Laziel’s eyes, and his large body went limp. His eyes closed to avoid Malachi’s stare. Panting and exhausted, Malachi pushed to his feet, his eyes searching for his friend as the celestial gathered himself.

“No. Oh God, no.” The human lay twisted in the alley, blood pouring from the gash in his throat caused by the angel’s hold. Panic seized Malachi as he knelt beside the man. He could hear the faint flutter of his heart as his body struggled to stay alive. Maddened with pain, he spun to face his guardian.

“You did this. Heal him.” The sneer Laziel sent Vischeral chilled Malachi’s heart. “Do it. Use your power to heal him, or I’m leaving, prophecy be damned.” He’d stalked the short distance to stand before his mentor. “You’ve always told me life, any life, is valuable, and is to be cherished. If you let him die, how can I believe anything you’ve ever told me?” When the celestial only stared at him, Malachi hadn’t hesitated. “Fine, then I’m out. Find another to save the race.”

“Wait. Malachi. Mother! Fuck!” Anger roiling off him in waves, Laziel crossed to the fallen man, looked up and whispered. “This is what you want?” Malachi nodded silently then watched as Laziel laid his hands upon the open wound. Brilliant light blinded Malachi and then faded. Beneath the angel’s hands, Vischeral groaned and coughed.

“Where am I? Mal?” Confusion laced Vischeral’s voice as Malachi knelt beside him. “I’m here, Vish. You’re safe.” Laziel left them then, taking with him Vischeral’s memory of the kiss and leaving Malachi with an invaluable lesson. The angel was right. Vischeral was too vulnerable, too fragile for Malachi’s attention. Bitterness lodged in Malachi’s heart. A hope newly born on that night had been killed within minutes.

After that catastrophic encounter, Malachi vowed to never tell Vischeral his secret, but late one night their trip home was interrupted by a pair of hungry vampires. While Vischeral drew the small knife he carried and prepared to defend himself, Malachi’s stomach had churned with bitter bile.

“Oh look, Malachi brought us a snack. And here we thought you didn’t like us.” Two of Darklon’s inner circle stood facing them, leers on their pale faces. He’d stepped in front of the human, weaponless.

“You’ll not touch him if you want to see the inner lining of your casket at daybreak, Pierson.” He’d heard Vischeral’s stunned gasp, but ignored the man. He had to stay focused on the threat before them.

“And, you are going to stop the two of us, are you? I don’t see that guardian angel that usually hovers around you like a sailor with his whore.” Pierson, tall and lanky but older than Malachi by a few decades, nudged his shorter, more heavily built companion. “What do you think, Nash?”

“I think I’m hungry and this human will do nicely.” They’d attacked in unison, fangs flashing in the moonlight. Malachi thanked the Creator that Vischeral hadn’t panicked. Trained by the Seraphim, Malachi proved more than a match for the two overconfident bastards. When their beheaded lifeless bodies lay twisted at his feet, Malachi turned worried eyes to his friend.

“Well hell. All this time and you never told me you were vampire.” The tense set of his shoulders eased. Malachi wiped the blood from his hands.

“You aren’t scared? Or thinking of staking me, which doesn’t work by the way.”

“We’re friends, Mal, and friends don’t chase friends with pointy wooden sticks. They help bury the twisted mangled remains of their enemies.” Vischeral had smiled at him then, the last time he’d seen the wicked playfulness in the man’s eyes.

The next night, Darklon sought vengeance for his friends’ deaths. He’d arrived at their villa in full vampiric rage, demanding Malachi’s death. When Laziel met him at the door and refused to produce his charge, Darklon attacked. A mistake he never made again in the ensuing years. The terrifying power of the Seraphim rained havoc down upon the Elder’s head. Fire and brimstone licked along the clothing of him and his entourage. Wind whipped around them knocking them from their feet, while hailstones slammed into them from the sky.

The vampires stood no chance against the force of Laziel’s will. To the present day, Malachi still remembered that showdown with stunned awe of the angel’s supremacy. The celestial had toyed with the Elder as a cat playing with a mouse until he’d tired of the game. The final blast of authority cleared the area of Darklon and his posse in one fell swoop. Furious, Laziel had turned to him and uttered the most horrifying words.

“He’ll go after Vischeral now. We better hurry.” But, they’d been too late. The human was nowhere to be found in the city or the village where they met. Only a stroke of luck led them to where Darklon held him captive, and only a miracle had set him free.

He hadn’t laid eyes on the male since the night of the escape; barely maintained tabs on him for fear Darklon would discover his whereabouts. He’d thrown himself into his training, determined to become King and take control of the Elders who savaged their own people and ruptured the foundations of their world with attacks on humans. The already feral nature of his soul darkened even more as bitterness and guilt weighed heavy upon his shoulders.

“My fucking fault.” Malachi wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud until Laziel’s warm breath brushed his ear.

“No.” Laziel always denied it, but it was.

Children lost, families decimated; entire enclaves wiped out because one fucking vampire entertained delusions of grandeur and hated Malachi’s fucking guts. The bastard would never see the throne. Malachi would kill him first and the vampire code and Council could go to Hell. His head turned toward the ante chamber where he knew Darklon lounged.

Exempt from normal protocol, the Elders though subject to Malachi’s rule, played by different rules. Only treason to the race or a direct threat to the King allowed for immediate death. If Darklon was to be brought down, Malachi needed indisputable proof. His hands curled into fists. It wasn’t his nature to wait, he’d prefer to rip the bastard’s throat out and drain his tainted blood.

“Your eyes are glowing, Lachi. You need to calm down before we enter the chamber.” Laziel’s hand brushed Malachi’s cheek, his thumb stroking soothingly across his taut lips.

“You told the Fallen you have a plan.” Laziel nodded, but the savagery needed more. Despite himself and the close proximity of the Council, Malachi slid a palm around the angel’s neck and tugged him forward until their lips met. Hard and demanding, the kiss layered a soothing balm over the angry chaos spinning madly in Malachi’s gut. A fang nipped tender skin spilling sweet nectar onto the vampire’s waiting tongue. Laz growled shoving Malachi deeper into the corner and grinding his denim covered hips against him. Evidence of his arousal throbbed against Malachi’s hip. Reluctantly, he stopped suckling Laziel’s lip and laved the wound closed. Hellfire still burned through his veins, but no longer ruled his actions.

“Plan?”

Laziel growled. “Plan is to get that fucking bastard out of your head. You are mine. My fucking vampire, yet he holds a piece of you I can’t reach.” Laziel took a deep breath and tried to hide the depths of sorrow brimming in his eyes. He backed away checking the area carefully before allowing Malachi to step forward into the light. He stalked toward the Council chamber fingers tightly wrapped around Malachi’s bicep, practically dragging him to the door. “Just follow my lead vampire.” The harsh command barley contained the hurt that registered in Laziel’s voice, before the angel shoved him through the door and spoke aloud slightly above a whisper, but loud enough for any vampire to hear.

“No, I’m telling you. He can’t be trusted.” Arial. The Fallen’s image drifted into Malachi’s mind. Frustrated by the angel’s anger and his own twisted walk down memory lane, it took Malachi a second to catch on. He snatched his arm away from the male and spit through gritted teeth. “And, I say he can.” Violence brimmed in his voice, although not for the reason the vampires suspected, and carried clearly.

A hush fell over the assembled as they quick marched through this center of the room, his black mood palpable in the air. Whispers of dread reached his ears, his formidable temper legendary amongst the Elders and their staff. He paid none of them any attention, intent on reaching the outside without ripping Darklon’s head from his shoulders or bending Laziel over his knee and administering a well-deserved wake up call. The vampire in question sat smug and smiling in his chair surrounded by his sycophants while the angel wore an expression of death.

You won’t rest so easy for much longer you sick fuck. Malachi didn’t care if the bastard caught wind of his thoughts. Darklon would be brought down.

“He’s Fallen; he’ll run straight to the Nephilim just for the mayhem it will cause. He thrives on destruction.” Laziel bit out the words; bringing Malachi back to the reason for their appearance in a room he rarely visited by choice.

“It doesn’t matter what you think. I’ve contacted him, given him information. I have no choice but to trust him, and if he defies me, I’ll end him. It’s simple enough.”

“Don’t fool yourself vampire. He may be Fallen, but he is not lacking in power. He’d make a formidable enemy.”

At the wide double doors blocking the tunnels that led topside, Malachi reached out with his mind and flung the heavy oak wide, grunting with satisfaction when they crashed hard against the cement block walls on either side.

“What’s done is done. We move forward.” With a resounding slam, the doors closed behind them blocking them from the other’s view, but not necessarily their hearing. Face solemn, Laziel nodded once. The bait had been delivered, now Lachi’s trust in the Fallen would be tested.

“I need to hunt and then fuck.” Malachi rolled his shoulders and set out down the thoroughfare.

“I prefer the reverse order, but what the hell, let’s do it your way.”

Laziel’s venom carried clearly to Malachi. Vischeral was a sore subject, always had been, but it was time for Laziel to realize, Vischeral was the past. Malachi’s future stood right here before him, pink fucking thong and all. Grabbing him by the neck, Malachi hauled him into the first dark corner he could find. Punishing lips found Laziel’s mouth, demanding entrance that was freely given.