“She’ll understand in time. Armando is searching for her, so you can concentrate on Alisha.”
“And why are we keeping Alisha alive?”
“As you pointed out, Pólemos, I killed Vanora’s brother. It has caused some...problems. I won’t make the same mistake with her sister.”
“You are wise,” Pólemos said. “I will start my search immediately.”
Aeron settled back in his throne and watched the werewolf depart. Kallos lingered near the doorway, her delicate face creased with worry. Aeron motioned for her to approach, and the young woman hurried forward.
“What is it, Kallos?”
“Siana sent me to find you. She says you must come quickly. All is not well,” Kallos answered in a breathless, nervous voice.
Aeron immediately rose, causing Kallos to shirk away. Brushing past her, he charged toward the temple fearful of what the Oracle may say.
He could not and would not lose Vanora when he was so close to fulfilling his destiny.
Armando never dreamed he would be afraid of Vanora, but it greatly unsettled him that he was very much frightened of her now. Though she appeared to be the same beautiful young woman with white-blond hair and beautiful amethyst eyes he’d fallen in love with, it was quite evident she’d vastly changed. The difference was in her bearing, her voice, her gaze, and her touch. It made him uneasy to recognize that while he slept, Vanora had experienced something so monumental, it had altered her. He found it difficult not to feel as though he’d failed her in some regard.
If only he was still the devoted son of Aeron, he would not feel so abysmally lost. He hadn’t lied to Vanora. He wished he could be cruel and be done with the pain he felt. Yet, gazing at her, he also knew that he would endure the agony of knowing she’d been created for Aeron and loved him.
Though he feared Vanora, he loved her. It was that love that gave him the strength not to fling her over his shoulder and deliver her to Aeron. The need to obey his Master had been growing since she’d arrived at his apartment, and it was nearly unbearable now. The edict fought his willpower and love for her. The command of his Master compelled him to tighten his grip on Vanora’s waist. Though his fingers were digging into her flesh and probably hurting her, Vanora gave no indication of pain.
Instead, Vanora’s hands hovered near his head, glowing with white magic. “Let me try...”
Could she really free him of Aeron’s edict? If she was created from half of Aeron’s soul, maybe it was possible.
Vanora was part of Aeron’s soul.
That truth tore out his heart and shredded it. Though Armando loved Aeron as a father and brother, he knew Aeron’s ruthlessness and cruelty firsthand. It was difficult to believe the gentle-hearted woman before him could be imbued with an aspect of Aeron’s soul. Yet, he could now see the similarities between them, not just in their appearance, but in how deeply they loved, how fiercely they defended those they cared about, and how determined they were to be victorious. He didn’t doubt his love for Vanora, but he now doubted her. If she was entangled in Aeron’s power already, how long before it corrupted her? It grieved him to even ponder.
Armando had once believed in Aeron’s dream of a world under his control but not anymore if that meant Vanora ruling at his side. He’d been empowered by Vanora’s love to defy Aeron. Armando had lost everything dear to him and only Vanora remained. She claimed she loved him, but it wounded him to know she also loved Aeron. Yet, the tenderness of her touch calmed the rage and fear howling inside him. She would not have come to save him from the edict if she didn’t love him. Armando clung to that truth.
Finally, he acquiesced. “Do it,” he said, bowing his head.
Vanora’s hands lightly brushed his hair.
A sharp pain stabbed through his temples, and his mind fell into a vortex of chaotic thoughts. Anger, violence, fear, and despair swallowed him whole, and he struck out blindly. His fingers caught the softness of Vanora’s sweater, and in his confusion, he attempted to push her away as the agony intensified.
“Don’t fight me,” Aeron ordered.
No. Not Aeron.
It was Vanora speaking.
Armando gripped Vanora’s sweater as she continued to withdraw the mystical shackles from him. Images of Aeron and Vanora flashed through his mind, and he cried out in pain. The remembrance of sharp teeth in his throat was sweet torment. That night, hundreds of years ago, he’d clung to Aeron as the vampire drained him of blood and made him his son.
No. Not Aeron.
It was Vanora cradling him in her arms and drinking from his throat.
His memory was jumbled, Aeron’s presence supplanted by Vanora’s.
Armando clung to her and whimpered.
“Be mine,” Aeron whispered. “Walk at my side.”
Aeron’s visage blurred into Vanora’s. Her purple eyes gazed into his through the haze of remembrance.
“Be with me forever. Learn what true power is,” Vanora urged.
The past and present blurred together. Agony, searing and yet sweet, ripped him apart then stitched him back together.
“Drink and live forever,” Aeron/Vanora murmured in his ear.
With a growl of hunger and desire, Armando seized Vanora in his arms and bit into her throat. Flipping her onto her back, he straddled her body, pinning her to the bed. Her blood was warm and delicious. It was his salvation. It destroyed the darkness inside him and stole away the pain.
Fingers twined in his hair, he heard her calling his name. He drank greedily, becoming one with her. She was so warm beneath him, so tempting, so powerful. Intoxicated by her blood, he was lost in her essence. Somewhere deep within him, a voice whispered that he should stop drinking, but he couldn’t tear his mouth from her throat.
A powerful blow to the side of his head sent him reeling and finally tore his fangs free of her throat. Hissing, he seized Vanora’s hands, pinned them to the bed, and growled at her. At last, he saw her face, stern and beautiful, framed by the halo of her white-blond hair splayed out on the dark covers of his bed. Her eyes were glowing with golden light. Awareness flooded his mind and rationality chased away the madness.
“Vanora,” he gasped in horror.
The bite was still bleeding, the blood staining her hair and the white camisole she wore under her sweater.
“Armando, heal the bite,” she urged.
Releasing her hands, he hovered over her, despair filling him. He could have drained her, and that knowledge ripped through him like razors.
“Armando,” Vanora said, demanding his attention. “I need you to heal the wound.”
“I...I...” If he tasted her blood again, he might not be able to control himself.
Vanora grabbed his shirt and dragged him down. Her lips met his in a searing kiss. Melting into her, he shuddered as she ground her hips against his.
Fingers tangling in his hair, she slid her lips to his ear and said, “Heal me.”
Armando shifted over her, and his tongue darted against the wounds he’d inflicted on her pale throat. Gradually, the ragged tears in her flesh closed beneath the ministrations of his tongue. Again, guilt tore at him, but he was distracted by her warm hands sliding under his shirt and over his bare chest.
“Vanora,” he said in a ragged voice against her skin
Armando was shushed by another kiss, and her hands working at his jeans. There was no way he could deny her, and he met her passion with his own. He didn’t care if he was still enraptured by her magic, his love for her burned so fiercely, he felt as though he couldn’t contain it. In a mad scramble, they shoved aside their clothes, only undressing enough to allow him to enter her. Already, she was slick and ready for him. Her fingers dug into his back as he thrust into her, and they were united in rapturous pleasure. He was nearly scalded by the heat of her magic flowing through her body. Yet, he wanted her and would burn if it meant he could be within her. Her mouth consuming his, he felt her blood restoring him while her body warmed him.
&
nbsp; Vanora gave him life.
At last, he came hard inside her, her name on his lips and seared into his heart. Slumping over her, he buried his face in her soft hair. She smelled of magic, an almost too-sweet scent.
Fingers tangled in his curls, she sighed with contentment. “So, do you still want to take me to Aeron?” she asked, her lips soft against his neck.
The desire to obey Aeron was vanquished. “No...the edict’s gone.” Relief flooded him, but the returning tormenting thoughts of what he’d nearly done fought for control of his emotions. Armando attempted to roll off her, but she refused to release him.
“Armando?” Fear was in her voice. “Didn’t you want to...?”
He observed the distress in her eyes. “Yes. Of course,” he said swiftly, attempting to calm her fear.
“My magic didn’t force you?”
“Vanora, I always want to be with you,” he admitted, flashing a bit of a smile.
The young woman sighed with relief and let him slide out of her. Pulling her clothes back into place, she covered her face with her hands. “I thought for a second...”
“Vanora, it’s taking all my willpower not to seduce you into a round two.”
It wasn’t a lie. But he wanted to ravish her and feed from her. It had been a very long time since he’d nearly lost all control. Was it her blood or her magic that had intoxicated him? It didn’t matter. He could have killed her. That thought sent him reeling.
“Then why do I feel like you want to run away?”
“Because another part of me wants to flee out of shame. I couldn’t stop myself from feeding on you. If you hadn’t hit me...” Aggravated with his lack of control, he adjusted himself, zipped up his jeans, and tried to scoot off the bed.
Vanora reached out and gripped his arm. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “It’s not your fault.”
“I could’ve killed you,” Armando replied, his anguish nearly unbearable. “Even after you struck me, I wanted to feed.”
Vanora traced her fingers along the curve of his jaw. “Watch.” She extended her arm and pointed to the heavy couch nearby.
Reluctantly, he stared at the point she indicated.
Vanora slightly flicked her hand and the couch slid across the floor and slammed into the far wall. The wood frame splintered apart and shards of timber ripped through the fabric like rapiers. Dust and bits of stuffing shot into the air, then drifted back down over the ruined piece of furniture.
“I just meant to move it.” Vanora winced, giving him an apologetic look.
Armando was speechless, thrilled, and even more frightened than before.
“You can’t kill me, Armando.”
“I can see that.”
Though he was relieved that she apparently could easily take care of herself, it also opened up a well of sadness within him. The beautiful young woman resting on the bed beside him, stained with her own blood, was transformed. For years, he’d regarded her as a mortal with a small gift of magic, but now he saw how wrong he’d been. She wasn’t human. That was certain. But what was she? That question burrowed its way deep into him and spread the infection of fear and dread.
Curling up on her side, she tucked her hands under her cheek and gazed up at him. The luminescent manifestation of her magic faded into her white skin, and her eyes no longer glowed. “Please, don’t look at me like that.”
A part of him wanted to flee the room. Guilt, anger, and frustration made him restless and temperamental, but he recognized that she might not understand his reaction. Vanora would most likely see it as rejection. “I never dreamed...” Armando forced himself to lay down and emulate her pose. Staring into her eyes, he said, “I never knew...”
“I didn’t either. I feel like Willow in Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.” Vanora gave him a wry smile. “Though I promise not to go Dark Willow.”
“I don’t understand anything you just said.”
Vanora laughed. “I know. I’m just...When I claimed the power, I had no idea how strong it would be or how it would change me.”
“You broke the edict,” Armando said, astounded at that reality. The fact she could override Aeron’s powerful hold over him was at the core of his fears. It was confirmation that she had been created from half of his soul. She was a part of Aeron.
“You had to drink my blood. I knew it when I was breaking the edict. I let you do it.”
Armando nodded slightly, swallowing hard.
Touching his cheek with her fingertips, she said, “I would do anything to keep you at my side.”
“And he’ll do anything to keep you at his side,” Armando replied, sounding harsher than he’d like.
“He’s not here.” Vanora scooted closer to Armando. “I’m where I want to be. With you.”
How easily her kiss abolished the dark emotions threatening to burst out of him and wound them both. Jealousy and anger dissolved under her touch. Could she kiss him like this if she wanted Aeron?
“You’re the one I want,” Vanora whispered against his lips. “The one I love of my own free will. Magic, Fates, and prophecies be damned.”
Armando believed her and also knew he would lay down his life to set her free from Aeron. “I helped him do this to you.”
Vanora sighed. “I know, but I can’t be angry with you. You didn’t know me or my family. You lived in another world. I glimpsed it briefly. The way the vampires really are. My brother and his followers tried so hard to escape that cruelty, but when I witnessed Parthenia kill Aeron I saw the truth. You were a part of that, and I accept it. But you also became a part of Roman’s group. You tried to break free in your own way. That gives me hope for both of us. Because if you can fight your nature, then I can fight mine.”
“And yet to fight Aeron, I have returned to killing,” Armando reminded her. Falling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling. “I’m still the monster, Vanora.”
“Not to me,” Vanora assured him. “Never to me.”
“How can you forgive me?” Armando gaped at her incredulously. She’d witnessed him kill. She knew of his duplicity and betrayal. She knew he was a monster, and yet her love for him emanated from her gaze.
“Can you forgive me? For being Aeron’s soul mate. His other half? I’m the fulfillment of prophecy. Everything that I am was created in service to his destiny.” Sorrow filled her eyes, and she lowered her eyelids to hide it from him. “When I traveled with him, I loved him. I wanted to save him. I almost forgot this world. But when I was about to be subsumed completely, I thought of you...” Tears sparkled on her lashes, taking on the dark hue of her smeared mascara. “The thought of you brought me back to myself. Reminded me of who I am aside from the fuckin’ magic that made me.”
It was very difficult to contain the darker emotions of jealousy and anger when he heard her speak of Aeron, but when she spoke of him being her anchor, he felt foolish.
“I will not bow to the prophecy. Or Aeron. I am Vanora Socoli, and I choose my own path.”
“And what do you choose?” Armando gently wiped her tears away.
“To be with you,” she answered.
Armando believed her and was comforted by her declaration. Opening his arms, he welcomed her into his embrace. Vanora clung to him, and he stroked her hair lovingly. “Then we’ll find a way to kill Aeron together.”
* * *
Fully fed, Sheila and Alexander raced through the streets of Houston, unseen by human eyes. Angel and Tracy were also on foot, not far behind. There was no point using human transportation when their adversaries were supernatural. There was an advantage to being on foot. It allowed Sheila to be hyper-aware of her surroundings and easily alter her path if she sensed danger. Three times, the vampire couple detected Aeron’s vampires and were forced to change their course. Fresh fires burned on the Houston skyline, and Sheila dreaded to think about whom among her friends and acquaintances were now ashes.
Reaching the perimeter of the Socoli Mansion grounds, Sheila bounded onto the wall and balanc
ed easily on the top. Alexander joined her and crouched.
“Shit.” Sheila stared in horror at the remains of the Socoli home.
The mansion was a ruin. Most of the stone walls still stood, but the roof and interior were gone. Charred rafters poked into the sky like accusing fingers. The sharp smell of burned wood and scorched stone drifted on the night wind. Seeing the Socoli Mansion destroyed drove the truth of their situation through Sheila’s heart like a stake.
Angel and Tracy sprang onto the wall and teetered beside her. They were flushed with life and power, and a little intoxicated from once more drinking human blood. Sheila, too, felt a little high from her feeding. How had she lived so long on animal blood?
“My sweet Ben.” Tracy whispered while pressing her clasped hands against her mouth and staring at the destruction. Tears glinted in her eyes. So many had died within the mansion, and now, it was their final resting place.
“Poor Zach,” Angel said. “He was a good guy.”
“Now they’re just ashes.” Misery weighing down her shoulders, Tracy averted her eyes from the destruction. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”
“Agreed.” Sheila glanced over her shoulder at the quiet neighborhood behind her. For now, the area appeared to be clear. Hopefully, it would stay that way. Sheila didn’t sense any vampires in the area, which wasn’t too surprising. Aeron had destroyed the mansion. There was no reason for Roman’s vampires to return, so the mansion was no longer a target.
Alexander dropped to the lawn and motioned for the others to follow. Landing next to her lover, Sheila rested her hand against his shoulder blade. As always, just touching him helped steady her nerves.
Angel settled onto the ground a few feet in front of them. Tracy remained on the wall, and Sheila regarded her worriedly. The other female vampire was reluctantly accompanying them simply because she didn’t want to be alone. Tracy still wanted to flee Houston, but when the outbreak of fires started again immediately after sundown, she decided against fleeing. Ben and Angel had been close, so Angel probably would have gone with her. Sheila gave Tracy a lot of credit for recognizing that the Mexican vampire was torn between protecting her and staying to fight Aeron, and not forcing him to choose. Plus, it was safer for Tracy to remain, whether she realized it or not. There was safety in numbers. Or maybe that was foolish to believe.
In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Third Season Page 16