Shadow of the Vampire (22 page)

         
Laying his ear above her mouth, he held his breath, listening, waiting.

         
Not breathing.

         
Panicked, Declan tilted her chin with two fingers, lowered his lips to hers and huffed a breath into her mouth. He repeated the move twice before pumping the heel of his hand against her sternum.

         
"Alexia, don't you leave me."

         
Again he blew air into her lungs. This time her lips seemed warmer. At least, that's what he told himself as he continued to try and feed her life.

         
Feed.

         
The errant thought snuck up from the back of his mind.

         
There's another way to save her.

         
Declan forced the idea back. He didn't want to go there. Couldn't go there. Gritting his teeth, he pumped his hand against her chest again and again. This time when he blew air into her lungs, her back arched and a burst of air escaped with the force of her cough.

         
With a sigh of relief, he rolled her to her side. Rubbing his palm on her back, he whispered assuring words in her ear as she fought for air. Fierce trembles racked her wet body. Instinctively, she curled in a fetal position, trying to warm herself. After a moment, her eyes slid closed and her breathing slowed.

         
"Alex?" He grabbed her shoulder and shook her slightly. She didn't wake. The sand beneath her darkened, soaking up the blood seeping from her wounds. Again that cloying sense of panic seized him. If he didn't get her to someplace warm, someplace he could ensure she'd receive any care she needed, she would either bleed or freeze to death.

         
The thought of returning her to Lotharus's care made him violent. He'd have to take her home. Gods. He stabbed a hand through his hair. That thought didn't fill him with the warm fuzzies, either.

         
Releasing a breath, he stared down at the very fragile vampire curled up beside him. Three days ago, he would have let her die without a second thought. Now, not only had he just saved her life, he was actually thinking about taking her home and laying her in his bed.

         
His parents' bed.

         
The cold, harsh truth of Tallon's words swished through his mind, threatening to swell and crack the wall of resolve he'd felt was so solid and sure before. Had that place gotten to him? Was he a blood traitor?

         
Shadows moved above, cutting out the moonlight shining down on her in strobelike pulses. Declan frowned and looked up. Winged silhouettes skated across the darkness. Dragons. The entire legion, by the looks of it. Flying in the direction of the lair.

         
Either Falcon got word to them or they must have seen him leave. Must believe he had the crystal and was headed for safety.

         
Declan let his gaze fall back to the woman lying defenseless in the sand. His enemy, his obsession. Although everything in him screamed to take her, everything he'd ever been taught ordered him to abandon the vampire. Declan held his forehead in his palm and closed his eyes tight. He didn't have time. He had to act now.

         
Leave her or take her.

         
CATIJA PUSHED OPEN the doors of the dungeon and winced. The repulsive odor nearly felled her. Reflexively, she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. Every instinct within her immortal body shouted for her to turn and run. Instead, she stepped inside and secured her torch on the wall sconce beside the doorway. Like skeletal fingers, strips of firelight slowly highlighted the cavernous space. First lighting up the door and tables around her in an orange glow, until the light crept farther, illuminating even the darkest corners of the dungeon.

         
Each inch that came into view highlighted memories of her last visit down there. Catija blinked rapidly. Images of the dragon King and Queen, covered in grime and blood, passed behind her eyes. Their naked limbs entwined in an embrace so tight and desperate she couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began. As it had that night, her heart constricted. Never had she felt more a monster than she had the eve she'd come down here with Lotharus and seen them together.

         
Covering her nose with the back of one hand, she lifted her skirts with the other, trying to avoid the various and questionable puddles, even though she was soaked to the marrow from her trip to the catacomb roof. Frantic, she hustled from cell to cell, disappointed to find each one empty. The ring of keys she'd stolen from Lotharus's study clanked in her pocket with each step she took.

         
Although Lotharus had told her the prisoner had escaped, Catija wanted to be certain he had not lied. The moment the opportunity had arisen, she'd emptied her stomach of the vile contents he'd made her imbibe and followed the driving need to come below and see with her own lucid eyes the truth her confused heart and addled mind didn't want to recognize.

         
She could not recall at what stage of their little game her onetime lover had begun spiking her feedings with a mind-altering agent. As she had then, Catija saw no other choice but to drink them. First so Lotharus would not suspect her, and second so she might discover why he wanted her to be complacent. At the final reason a solid mass of shame formed in the center of her throat.

         
She swallowed it down, acknowledging the truth.

         
Some deep, dark part of her had enjoyed drinking his draughts. Preferred being numb to the cloying guilt and shame she felt when sober. After all, she had brought Lotharus into their lives, made him general of their army, given him free rein over the horde, over her own daughter.

         
By the Goddess, why had she ever listened to that man? Why had she let her selfish desires and his evil words cloud her judgment and put her horde at risk? Her daughter at risk? Her baby, she thought with a choked sob. Alexia was now Goddess knew where, and all be cause her mother had failed to listen to her.

         
As Catija scoured the empty dungeon, she knew she'd been a pure and utter fool to think she could atone for what she'd done over her long life. A fool to think by saving the dragon King and Queen, or even their son, she could ever hope to save herself. She'd done too many horrible things, caused too much pain and suffering to ever balance the scales and make it right. Yet it did not mean she had to leave this plane of existence without trying.

         
Something on the ground flickered in the light bouncing off the wall torch. The object had a familiar shape. Catija squinted, trying to make it out. When she couldn't, she stepped forward. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and a wave of sickness knotted her gut. Bending, she reached down with trembling hands, knowing what it was the instant cool metal touched her fingers.

         
One of Alexia's daggers.

         
But why was it on the bloodstained dirt by the wall chains? "Dearest."

         
Catija gasped at the voice and spun around, clutching the dagger tight behind her back. "Oh, Lotharus. You gave me fright."

         
He cocked his head, an unsettling smile passing over his handsome face. "I can't imagine why." The heel of his boot clicked against the floor with his slow step forward. He held a torch in his hand. The light flickered against his pale skin, illuminated the protruding bones of his face, making him look almost skeletal.

         
Like death come to claim her.

         
"What are you doing down here?"

         
"I was looking for Alexia."

         
"But I told you that dragon escaped and took her with him."

         
"I had to see with my own eyes," she said, gazing around the dismal surroundings with uncertainty. She'd so blindly let Lotharus school Alexia in the ways of the soldier, in warfare. Suddenly, she wondered if she hadn't done so with rash detriment.

         
"Is something wrong?"

         
At Lotharus's words, she gasped, looking up. He stood, closer now, mere feet away, regarding her intently, his eyes seeing more than she wanted him to.

         
"Lotharus, I--I think," she stammered, curling her fingers tighter around the weapon, feeling its cold indifference penetrate through her to the marrow.

         
"Yes," he prodded, a brow rising in question like a dark wing over his vacant eyes.

         
Catija swallowed. "I think we should postpone the wedding until my daughter is safely returned. The people wouldn't understand how I could celebrate, with her...in the hands of such dangerous monsters."

         
"Of course," he said without hesitation. "I understand completely." He opened his arms for her to walk into them. Fearful he knew she wasn't quite as drugged as she should be, Catija forced herself to smile and comply.

         
However, this time as his arms wrapped around her they felt like a prison instead of a sanctuary. The lips on her neck sent a quiver of fear rather than lust down her spine.

         
The dagger seemed to grow heavier in her hand, the metal warming against her flesh. Catija blinked with realization. In that moment, she knew what she had to do. Knew her seemingly endless path across Lotharus's sick game board was at long last coming to an end.

         
As if she stood outside her own body watching events transpire, she saw her hand rise up to the sky. The dagger's jagged tip pointed downward, hovering over Lotharus's back like a sharp-toothed demon.

         
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say. "You would have made a great King, Lotharus."

         
The lips on her skin stilled. His mouth brushed the side of her face, his hot breath warming the skin beneath her ear.

         
"I still will."

         
Her upraised arm shook, the bloodstained blade vibrating in the flickering firelight. "What did you say?"

         
Lotharus leaned back, his body unfolding before hers like a massive snake rising for a strike. Satisfaction lit up his eyes as he caught sight of what must have been shock in hers. He smiled, his fangs hanging long and fearsome. "Checkmate."

         
Game over.

         
Catija's heart stuttered to a dead stop. For the space of a heartbeat, they stood still and silent. Then he lunged. Screaming, Catija stabbed downward hard and fast, meeting little resistance as she sunk the metal into his shoulder blade. However, it did not deter him. Razor-sharp fangs sunk into her neck, hard and deep. Catija opened up her mouth to scream again, but nothing came.

         
The force, the pain of his bite, brought tears to her eyes and stole the air from her lungs. Blindly, her hands pulled on the handle of the dagger, trying to dislodge it so she could strike him again. When it didn't move, she tugged at the fabric of his coat, pushed at his shoulders and his head in an attempt to break free. He clasped a wrist, forcing her arm behind her where he'd wound his around her. Panicked, feeling her life force seeping out of her, Catija raised her free hand, raking her nails over his face, clawing for freedom. However, he easily restrained that hand, as well.

         
The band of his arm tightened around her waist with each pull of blood he drew from her body. Slowly, a soft blue light rose like vapor from her skin. Her power. Again, Catija tried to fight, tried to squirm away. But the arm around her only tightened like a constrictor with each effort, until she couldn't get any more air into her lungs.

         
As he drained the life and energy from her body, the only coherent thoughts streaming through what was left of her conscious mind were of Alexia. Images of her as a small child, vibrant and happy, passed in front of her eyes. Of her long, bright hair, her chubby cheeks, dark eyes shining with glee from behind long, graceful lashes. A sob stuck in her throat.

         
Lotharus finally pulled back, his grip on her relaxing. Unable to move or hold herself up, she hung bent over his arm, boneless and weak. Panting in small, quick breaths, Catija used her last vestiges of strength to meet Lotharus's gaze. He grinned and she instantly wished his heinous smile would not be the last thing she saw on this earth.

         
Summoning the last of her strength, she narrowed her eyes on his face, proud of the gashes her nails had rent on his once pristine features. Knowing how deeply that would upset him. "Go ahead," she breathed. "Finish it."

         
He smiled and ran his hand over her mauled throat. The Queen hissed in a breath as he dug his claws into the wound, nearly making her black out from mind-numbing agony. "All in good time, my love."