by V L Moon
Reluctantly, he withdrew and licked the wounds closed. He sat back and automatically checked the bedroom.
“She’s fine, but I think it’s time we join her,” Laziel whispered. “I’m so tired.” The weariness in his voice was evident. Malachi rose to his feet, bringing Laziel up in his arms. He made quick work of drying the angel and himself. Together, they crossed the bedroom only to separate at the end of the bed. They climbed in on opposite sides of their daughter, both reaching to rest a hand against her back. Over her head, Malachi caught Laziel’s gaze. So many words crowded his mind. I missed you. I love you. I need you. Please don’t leave me again. Why?
“Good night, Laziel,” he said when he finally managed to open his mouth. Something in the angel’s eyes flickered. Malachi swallowed and dropped his gaze to the baby. Why couldn’t he just say the damned words? He’d needed them from Laziel; he understood the power behind them. He was a fucking vampire king, scared of nothing except losing Laziel and now Destahny.
“I love you.” They emerged in a rush, loud in the quiet room. His gaze flicked upward and he sighed. His exhausted angel was asleep. Energized by the angel’s blood, sleep evaded him. Restless, he rose from the bed and paced across the room. His gaze returned again and again to the pair in his bed. It was the fifth or sixth pass by the bed before he realized what caused his agitation. With a growl, he spun and headed for the bathroom.
Hairbrush in hand, he eased onto Laziel’s side of the mattress. Tenderly, he pulled the brush through the angel’s hair. Each stroke soothed him. When he finally finished, he lay down behind Laziel and fitted himself around the sleeping angel. Laziel murmured his name and settled against him. Malachi closed his eyes and lay quietly, listening to the thrum of Laziel’s and Destahny’s heartbeats. The months of loneliness and fear were finally at an end, and with Laziel safe and Destanhy’s life hanging in the balance, Malachi made a silent vow to end Darklon’s miserable existence. He’d tortured his family for the last time.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Forty-Three
~*~*~*~
Exhaustion and hunger overruled his capability to think straight. Stumbling the last few yards through Malachi’s enclave, Arial cursed the uprising of his hunger when its sickening presence rolled in his gut. Unprepared for its savage assault on his senses, Arial growled in livid disgust. The few meager vampires old enough to fend off the call of dawn scuttled out of his way and scurried into their hidey holes, wary of the darkness roaming their halls.
Repulsion at his need to feed made Arial’s blood boil. The hunger thundered in his ears as a fine sheen of sweat broke out over the surface of his skin and ran like ice between the mounts of his wings. Using the wall for support, Arial made his way toward the covert entrance hiding Malachi’s world. When the bitter sting of freezing rain bit into his face, it momentarily diverted Arial’s attention from the growl of his gut.
Lifting his chin, he allowed the rain to beat down upon his face and imagined it cleansing him of all of the impurities of his mother’s vulgar curse. A solitary tear worked its way free from tightly shut eyes to mingle with the rain. In effect, the downpour hid the degree of Arial’s pain and washed it away. He remembered the profound way bringing back Laziel affected him. Laziel’s essence still lingered on his breath along with the tangible familiarity of all he’d lost.
The feeling grated on him. Arial abhorred weakness in any form, refused to accept such a dire and worthless affliction could possibly infect him. He bit back the tears, denying himself the relief that expressing his inner turmoil would bring. Instead, Arial built up what remained of his resolve and drew in the heavy scent of Rome’s rain soaked streets, its human inhabitants, and—food.
Like an act of vengeance against him, the scent of a demon’s soul drew Arial like a magnet. He moved fast, shifting through the last of the night’s shadows as they quickly faded into the dawn. Sunlight didn’t affect him like it did the vampires, but Arial still refrained from taking a leisurely stroll through St. Peter’s Square.
Humans as a rule were hopelessly blind to the fact they shared their world with others of a more preternatural nature. And, rightfully so. The divide between them was far too great for the human brain to comprehend. As a species, they believed themselves top of the food chain; Arial knew them to be deluded.
Truth of the matter, some of the world’s highest ranking positions were held by vampires, and still others were held by shifters, demons and even angels. Under Malachi Denali’s rule, the blood thirsty vampire breed infiltrated everything from oil, stocks and shares, blood banks and the food industry. Malachi listened when Laziel tutored him in economics and used that knowledge to strengthen his race and bring it out of the dark ages. The vampire was wise, most of the time. Until it come to Laziel.
Arial would always be in awe of the depth of love he’d witnessed between them. He hoped the union of their bond would somehow heal the rift that had grown between them. The love was there; Malachi just needed to cut himself some slack and allow the strength of Laziel’s celestial heart to guide them.
With his thoughts running amok and his instinct to hunt leading him via an invisible leash, Arial made his way across St. Peter’s Square and took a moment to appreciate the splendor of his surroundings before the tourists laid their claim and spoiled the peaceful grandeur.
With the relaxing sounds of its sculpture’s waterfalls, St. Peter’s Square and the Basilica looked stunning basking in the ambiance of dawn’s light. The momentary lapse in thought angered Arial. What in the name of all that was holy?
The scent hit him first, only it wasn’t the usual taint of sulfur. It was something else; something stoked the hidden embers of Arial’s darkest desires. Its erotic allure reeked of evil intensity and sent a bolt of lascivious need racing through Arial’s veins. The familiar scent washed over Arial. His knees buckled beneath him as the influx of memories made his cock spring to life.
After centuries of abstinence, Arial virtually buckled beneath the burden of having to suppress the carnal want of Rhys’s touch, and as the scent of the demon that caused his fall grew stronger, with it came the overwhelming stench of death and decay. Whoever the demon was stalking the grounds of the Vatican, it definitely wasn’t Bastian DeRhys.
When the crawling sensation of death sent a cold wave of dread over Arial’s flesh, the Fallen realized his own meandering thoughts made him foolish and slow. Instead of tracking the demon and feasting on its wretched soul, the demon, unbeknownst to Arial, had turned the tables on him, making Arial its prey.
A low snarl rumbled through the square as the grotesque form flitted through the shadows. Around them, the sky turned a paltry shade of grey mixed with a slight tinge of pink. Dawn cast its wintery glow over Rome to conquer the nights fading embrace. Turning fast, Arial grimaced when needle sharp claws raked over his wing mounts tearing the flesh from what was left of the highly sensitized appendages. Arial roared in pain. Already weak from his earlier attempt to bring Laziel back, Arial stumbled back against the demon’s fiery lithe shape unintentionally trapping it between himself and the steps leading up to the Basilica.
Time was running out. With every second that ticked away, Arial chanced exposing himself and the existence of the underworld to the humans. Rome was a mecca for those that worshipped and believed, or sought divine intervention from a higher, more spiritual plane. The last thing they needed to see was a demon squatting and using the steps of the holy pontiff’s home as its stoop.
Behind him, the demon wailed. Its high pitched screech made Arial’s head hurt. It thrashed and kicked, tearing its claws through Arial’s hair, arms and thighs as it battled for release. Slamming back hard, Arial smashed the demon against the rain soaked steps and turned to grasp it by the throat, cutting off its air supply and silencing its blasphemous mouth with his own. The moment Arial’s mouth touched the putrid slit of the demon’s mouth he groaned. Lurking beneath the rancid scent of sulfur, Rhys’s unique bouquet danced over Arial’s
senses, tantalizing his taste buds and tempting him to taste of Hell’s forbidden fruit.
Anger, denial, jealousy and loss flowed through Arial like an emotional tidal wave. As it broke over the mental wall of Arial’s mind, awareness crashed his system. The bane of Hell he held in his hands had partaken in an act of carnal persuasion with none other than Rhys. The knowledge tore through Arial and cut straight through his heart.
The revelation that he meant nothing to Rhys was nothing new., For years after being cast out of Heaven, Arial fooled himself with whimsical fantasies where Rhys sought him out and swore his love to no one but Arial. Rhys failed to appear, and as the fate of his circumstance became evidently clear, Arial attempted to forget. He tried in vain to wipe away the memory of meeting Bastian de Rhys. But, however hard he tried, Arial could never truly banish the demon from his heart.
Faced with the factual evidence before him, Arial’s mind rebelled. Where he’d once strived for patience and calm, Arial felt anything but. Anger in all of its fearsome glory roared through his veins. In a heartbeat, the centuries he’d served upon the mortal Earth meant as much to him as he did to Rhys. The centuries of loneliness and yearning turned to bitter regret, and as such, his Fallen nature predicted his temperament. Arial acted on his calling.
Gathering the last vestiges of his strength, Arial collected the snarling demon into his arms. Instead of inhaling the foul spawn’s soul, Arial ate at his mouth with ravenous hunger. Gripping talon like nails into the flesh along the demon’s spine, he tore it apart with his bare hands. The gory remains sloshed at his feet, coating Arial in thick black blood. The smell of sulfur made his stomach churn and his skin itch as the demon’s soul seeped through his pores, leaving nothing behind but a small mound of putrid yellow ash.
Heaving from exertion, Arial staggered up the steps of the Basilica. He needed to cleanse himself of his mother’s ugly curse. Feeding off the souls of demons was a loathsome affliction to bear, but Arial would take its bitter addiction and drown in the misery of its tainted sustenance if it helped to block out the memory of Rhys. Arial fought to swallow the lump lodged in his throat. Tears pricked and stung his eyes. He swiped at his face furious at such a dismal display of weakness and growled his disgust. The reverberation of his abhorrent mood echoed through the silent hall of the Basilica and drew a shocked gasp from an unwelcomed spectator.
Arial stilled. The breath in his chest burned his lungs. He peered through the shadows, searching in earnest for the human who’d witnessed his vile and heinous fight. He had no option, but to call Malachi and have the human’s memory of the event erased.
“Shit! Motherfucking hell! The one time I actually need a God damned blood sucker, and it has to be daybreak. Christ on a cracker,” Arial cursed, indifferent to his holy surroundings.
“Tut, tut my Fallen friend. The man upstairs won’t take too kindly to one of his own taking his name in vain. Even if he is Fallen.” Celix’s words were spoken softly and held so much pain Arial practically felt the agony in each hushed word. His eyes swept to where a soft golden light emanated from one of the many alcoves looking out over St. Peter’s square and the Vatican’s gardens.
Arial approached Celix slowly. The scent of his blood and tears permeated the air to mix with Arial’s own. Arial guessed why Celix was there. The golden winged Nephilim held a torrid affliction for Clariel, the sweet wingless Nephilim under Gregori’s care. Arial suspected Celix watched over Clariel constantly, even though he’d sworn to stay away. However, after the recent ramifications between the Nephilim and the wolves, Arial suspected Gregory would be expanding the rooms within his private quarters.
What he didn’t expect, as he rounded the alcove, was to find Celix broken and bleeding. The Nephilim’s chest barely moved. He gasped against the pain of each labored breath. From where Arial stood, the usually radiant Nephilim appeared caked in blood. He shivered from shock and reeked of seed both demon and female.
His eyelids were so swollen, Celix could barely see enough to know where he was, let alone having flown there to watch over Clariel. Golden feathers drifted across the floor, and Arial’s heart seized. Damage of any kind to their wings caused Nephilim and celestial beings excruciating pain.
“Christ almighty, Celix, what happened to you?” Arial asked, pushing aside his own pain and kneeling before the other male. His fingers tentatively brushed over Celix’s skin and the burly Nephilim visibly flinched.
“Hey, it’s ok. It’s only me. Let me look at you.” Arial tried again to attend to Celix, but the male’s anxiety had him practically jumping out of his skin. The scent of fresh blood drew Arial’s attention to a small pool gathered at Celix’s feet. “Celix, tell me where it hurts so I can help you. For fuck’s sake, who did this to you?” Arial growled.
“Onoskelis’s tastes are getting a tad extreme,” Celix gasped. “Needed to make sure my Clary was safe.” Another gasp was followed by a wince when Celix shifted. The knot in Arial’s gut twisted.
“She will pay for this, and every other Nephilim that she’s brutalized. I swear on all that’s Holy; I will see my mother in Hell before she touches you again.” Arial’s tears for Celix ran hot with violence. He would have retribution for the beautiful male and his Clariel.
Arial needed to speak to Malachi; talk tactics and work out a strategy to ensure the Nephilim’s safety. They had to take down those that held court with his mother and her demonic courtesans. The Nephilim needed to be rid of her vile traitorous tendencies. By annihilating Onoskelis, Arial could possibly enforce the treaty between the vampires and Nephilim and make it stronger by showing them the possibilities of a better life under Malachi’s regime. But first, he needed to get Celix some help.
Arial wished Laziel was with him. The Seraphim male had a knack for healing, among other things. Hushing Celix and comforting the male the best way he could, Arial lifted him gently into his arms and tucked him softly against his chest. Celix’s wings bristled before hanging limply at his back. Unable to fold them back into their mounts, Celix risked further damage to the wing structure if Arial didn’t help.
“Hold on as tight as you can. I’m going to bring in your wings for you,” Arial whispered and brushed his mouth over Celix’s cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt. Bite down on me if you need to, just try not to scream and scare the shit out of the tourists. Gregori would throw a Holy fit and he makes Malachi look like a princess.” Arial tried for a smile and winked.
Celix attempted to laugh, but ended up gripping Arial’s arm and holding his breath when Arial leaned into him and scooped his flailing wings as gently as possible into his free arm. He folded them back into their natural position against Celix’s back.
Hesitantly, Arial made his way through the halls of the Basilica and down into the lower sanctums of the Vatican where he knew Gregori had placed Clariel. It was a tight squeeze edging both of them through the lower reaches of the Vatican. Any lower and he’d be knocking on Malachi’s door, he thought vaguely.
The air turned colder the deeper they went and Celix shivered in his arms, worrying Arial. If Celix slipped into a state of unconsciousness, he’d need help for sure. Turning into the last walkway, Arial gritted his teeth in a bid to block out his own pain. The warmth of his own blood ran between the mounts of his wings. He chose to ignore the degree of his own injuries. Celix needed him, and Arial knew getting him to Clariel would ease Celix’s anxiety long enough for them to assess what help the wounded Nephilim possibly needed.
When a softly sung melody drifted through the walkway, Celix stirred. His body trembled at the sound of the harmonious voice. Arial followed the sound of what he believed to be Clariel’s voice. The closer they got, the more distressed Celix became. The injured Nephilim whimpered in pain as his tears dripped down Arial’s bare chest.
“He doesn’t need to see this. Please, Arial. Don’t.” Even injured, Celix fought to protect the one he loved from the horrors he had to face to keep the innocent younger Nephilim safe
.
“No can do, blondie. Not this time. I’m going to need your boy’s help to patch you up. It’s not safe topside. The square will be teeming with tourists, and you know as well as I do, we’re a no show in public places. Can’t be scaring the humans; remember.” With his piece said, Arial turned and used the heel of his boot to kick in the door to Clariel’s room.
A loud gasp from Clariel accompanied a pained groan from Celix. Arial smelled the Nephilim’s fear as he backed into the room and turned with a broken Celix cradled in his arms. From where he knelt at the side of his bed, Clariel looked terrified by Arial’s presence. But, one look at Celix and the young male was up, vaulting over the bed with an open look of terror written all over his delicate young face. Arial had forgotten just how young and sweet the kid was. With huge violet eyes that shimmered with tears and ash blonde hair framing a heart shaped face, the wingless Nephilim looked more angelic than most angels did.
Tentative fingers brushed the golden strands of Celix’s hair away from his face. Clariel’s fingers shook and those strange violet eyes flitted between Arial and the male in his arms. “Who? Why?” Clariel’s voice broke on a sob. Tears ran unabashed down his beautiful face.
“From what little he could tell me, it looks like Onoskelis wasn’t pleased with losing her men plus one of her elite to the wolves. How he managed to fly here beggars belief after what that bitch and her demons did to him,” Arial explained. “But, something tells me the stubborn motherfucker would have crawled here if he had to. Clariel, help me get him on to the bed, and then I think you should leave. Maybe go get Gregori. I need to see how bad Celix is hurt and where all of this blood’s coming from. I’m not sure he’d want you to see that; he’s very protective of you. We don’t want to distress him anymore than we need to.”