Caressed by a Crimson Moon (Rulers of Darkness) (15 page)

The prickling sense of awareness skittered across his nape.

Sun rise.

Closing his eyes, he imagined what it looked like. Brilliant shades of glittering gold, burnt orange and light pink would dance together as the sun peaked over the white-capped mountains. Centuries had passed since he had seen the magnificent sun. Much to his dismay, Hadrian had yet to develop the ability to walk in daylight like Dorian Vlakhos, king of Mylonas Clan had. Then again, the vampire was two thousand years older than he and also possessed the ability to read other’s thoughts, another trait Hadrian did not hold, thank the good lord above. He had enough troubles.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Hadrian glanced to the bookshelf and saw the bright red spine of the journal that could possibly hold the answers he sought. Imbarsus had spent centuries studying the shifter tribes while taking detailed notes. He documented his findings, observations, and the results of the horrific experiments he performed on his subjects within that journal.

The tingling sensation spread down his spine. His senses grew sharp as he stilled.

He was not alone.

“Reveal yourself, witch,” he commanded.

“Now, there is no reason to snarl.”

The air sparked with electricity as a young woman took form. Her red, crush velvet robe swirled about her legs as her black, shoulder length hair whipped back from a nonexistent wind.

“I only wish to help,” she insisted, her broad smile touching her deep brown eyes. The darkness of her hair and eyes, a shocking contrast to her pale, porcelain face and ruby lips.

Hadrian recognized the witch immediately. She had been Queen Kerstyn’s maid of honor.

“Forgive me, priestess,” Hadrian said, giving a stiff bow. “I did not realize it was you.”

She shrugged, “No worries, and please, call me Silvie. I really hate being formal. It’s just so…odd. Then again, I’m still new with,” she waved a hand at her robe, “all of this. May I have leave to address you by your given name?” He nodded. “Wonderful. You’re looking well, insanity does suit you”

“Why have you come?”

“You need my help. Unless you do not want to know how to save your ward.”

“Save Eva from what?”

His question was a demand. Silvie’s smile grew brighter.

“She’s got you sprung.”

He frowned, obviously lost.

“You need to study more phrase books.”

“Later. Tell me, what or who threatens Eva.”

Silvie sat, her small frame swallowed by the high backed, oversized leather chair that stood just before Hadrian’s desk. She smoothed her robe over her lap then tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes drifted toward the bookshelf and the crimson journal. “
His
accounts will not help you.” Returning her gaze to Hadrian she continued, “Nor will his demon’s memories.”

Hadrian was not at all surprised the priestess knew of his dark secret, the reason for his insanity.

“Are you stalling, witch?” Hadrian snapped.

“Not at all,” Silvie insisted with a shake of her head.

“Who threatens Eva?”

“Your ward threatens herself.”

Hadrian’s frown darkened, casting shadows over his obsidian eyes. “Explain.”

“According to my uncle, the Shaman, there has been a total of three cases where shifters and witches have produced offspring.” Silvie leaned forward, her fingers gingerly wrapped about the hilt of the gold letter opener.

Hadrian cursed. Had he been holding his breath? Yes, his entire body tensed the instant Silvie’s eyes fell on the small, glittering dagger.

Silvie slowly turned the letter opener over in her hand.

“You got a good whiff of her blood, did you not? Tell me, what do you predict will happen to Eva come the full moon tonight?”

Hadrian forced his gaze from the gleaming metal. Though Falcon had washed away her blood, Eva’s scent lingered. His fingers twitched as he thought of snatching it from her.

He cleared his throat, “Her blood is thick with magic and I believe she will transform.”

“It’s possible, she may experience the change,” she shrugged, “but that is up to you.” Silvie set the letter opener back on the desk and Hadrian resisted the violent urge to grab for it. His demon snarled, how dare the witch touch what did not belong to her.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got it bad.”

“If you are implying that I’m in love with my ward, you are mistaken,” he hissed.

Denial,
Silvie thought, as she held up her hands in mock surrender. “I am implying nothing.”
I’m stating a fact,
she finished. She did not need to rile the king. She had plenty of other things to do and she did not need to add any more stress and drama to her life. Silvie had thought becoming a priestess of her tribe would simplify things. A life without complications: no men, no sex, no love and no children, nothing messy.

Silvie shook her head. Now was not the time for reflection. Selecting her words carefully, just as her uncle taught her, she continued, “Unlike a shifter-human hybrid, Eva’s magic is not diluted. As a matter of fact, she is pure magic. Human half-breeds cannot change, or use the powers of their animal spirit because they are too weak. So, what is Eva’s problem? She is too strong. Shifter. Witch. Both dominate, both fighting to subdue the other. The animal within her wants to transform and run through the trees, wild. But witches don’t take the forms of animals.”

A tick developed in Hadrian’s jaw as he intensely listened, absorbing and processing the information.

Eva was a threat to herself. Her own DNA was warring. His gut twisted as if he had been stabbed with a jagged dagger as the implications of Silvie’s words sank in.

“Tonight, when the full moon rises, Eva will begin the change, but she will die.”

Hadrian’s fists slammed on the desk as he stood. His chair flew back, colliding with the wall. Black rage consumed his eyes, as his demon howled.

The witch did not cower, nor did she tremble or scream. Silvie gazed up at him, calm and perfectly serene.

“Death cannot have her,” Hadrian roared.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His chest was deathly still as he took in no breath. His heart frozen in time, the blood in his veins paused as he grappled with his demon.

“Control, Your Majesty,” Silvie cautioned. “Please, sit.”

With a thought, Hadrian drew his chair back, but he did not reclaim his seat. His muscles were too stiff.

“First,” she leaned back, thrumming her fingers on the arms of her chair, “what are your feelings towards your ward?”

Blinking, Hadrian fell back in his seat. “What?”

Feelings?
He had none besides rage and lust.

“Nevermind. My question was nothing but a distraction,” she said with a shaking of her head. “There is only one way to save Eva from the bony, icy grip of death.” She paused and Hadrian wondered if the witch were doing it for dramatic effect, to collect her thoughts, or to torture him. Gripping the desk, his claws cutting the wood.

Silvie smirked. Hadrian eagerly, desperately, leaned forward. His gaze was sharp and determined as he silently waited for her to continue.

Yep, poor vampire is in love
, Silvie thought before her uncle’s voice invaded her mind.
Everything is falling into place.

“What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Name the price,” he demanded. Hadrian would gladly sell what remained of his shattered soul to save Eva.

“Very well,” Silvie stood, “Death.”

“Done.” Hadrian came to his feet, tearing his shirt from his chest. “Do you require a weapon? I have many.” He motioned to the array of glinting swords and knives, which hung amongst an assortment of ancient weapons that decorated the stone wall.

Silvie fought to not look at Hadrian’s sculpted abs and chiseled arms.

“You misunderstand.”

“Please, take my life. I offer it willingly.”

“If you are to save Eva, you must sacrifice death.”

Hadrian could not move, could not form a simple thought as Silvie’s words circled around and around in his mind until they became a part of him, piercing his heart and branding his soul.

Sacrifice death.

He wished for death to claim him daily. He longed to never hear the voices again, never feel the unquenchable, burning bloodlust. For centuries, his only solace was knowing death would come for him. The reaper would escort him to hell and he would drag his demon along with him.

He prayed for one moment of peace. No battles within himself. No overpowering desire to kill, to maim, to feel a mortal’s life fade beneath his lips, to claim Eva. Peace. Death was peace.

Eternity. His torment would last for eternity. Forever suffering. Forever haunted by the bloodcurdling screams of the innocents slain by the demon lurking within him. Forever enduring the smell of burning flesh and the pale, stricken faces of the corpses.

He had hoped by returning to his clan, he could help restore his people to glory and then the curse that befell all the rulers of darkness would claim him.

“What of the Death Curse?”

“You will be exempt, like King Dorian of the Mylonas Clan,” Silvie answered.

His claws grew even longer, digging into the desk.

Why could he not just exchange his life for Eva’s? Why could he not die?

You will never be rid of me,
the demon whispered.

Despair welled within him as the demon laughed.

A roar ripped from his chest as his fists slammed down upon the desk.

“You know, most would gladly relinquish the possibility of death.”

“Most don’t know my torment,” he snarled, dragging his claws across his chest, slicing his flesh.

Silvie barely resisted the urge to cringe as the vampire’s skin tore and knitted back together. His eyes glowed with an evil light, his fangs lengthened to razor sharp points as his jaw snapped like a crocodile’s.

Deep down, Hadrian knew he did not deserve the peace of death. The demon was more a part of him than his own soul. But in this, he could not—would not be selfish. Eva’s life was more important. She was young, only just beginning. Who was he to take her life from her?  Beautiful, precious, Eva deserved to live and if it meant he would have to suffer, than so be it.