The Ravana Clan Vampires: a Young Adult Paranormal Romance (Complete Series)

by E. M. Moore

  “Please,” I cried. “Please.”

  Nicolai flitted his finger back and forth over my clit until the pleasure was too much. It mounted until it could go nowhere, but over the edge. I cried out, the orgasm hitting me like a freight train. Or maybe that was Nic’s groan of approval and delight as he came into me at the same time, his strokes only softening minutely until there was nothing left of himself to fill me with. He molded his body to mine, kissing my neck and shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, too breathless and overcome to get any words out.

  He pulled me up and turned me around. “Are you sure? I know you had a rough day yesterday.” His eyes were like intense chestnut discs as they scoured every inch of my body.

  I swallowed. “I’m fine, Nic.” I took a deep breath to try to calm myself, opened my mouth to say something, and then shut it again. ‘Wow’, came to mind, but I certainly wasn’t saying that out loud. Nic didn’t need a bigger head in the bedroom department.

  He smirked anyway as if he already knew what I was thinking. He kissed my temple and brought a sheet from the bed around my shoulders. “Why don’t we get you in the shower? Today’s a big day.”

  That was an understatement.

  He patted my butt as I trotted to the bathroom. Just before I stepped through the entryway, I dropped the sheet and looked back at him. “Don’t you want to help?”

  He narrowed his eyes, and I winked. He charged after me and I went squealing for shelter. At least, that’s what I pretended. Nic was part of my shelter. I would never run from him.

  28

  If I’d thought yesterday felt like everyone had drunk too much Red Bull, today was on a whole other level. It was like Red Bull, Five-Hour Energy, and Sport Beans had a baby—and that baby also had ADHD. The pure adrenaline bouncing around the interior of the estate made the hair rise on my arms and my throat go dry. Through it all, the only person who was completely calm was Gregor. Though he was only a few minutes away from putting his life on the line for the good of his clan, he stood tall and wore his regular suit—all while his hair was gelled to perfection. It was like watching a cover model being thrown into a dogfight.

  Nicolai shrugged when I walked in, more than likely noticing my mouth drop at his appearance. I wasn’t going to tell him he couldn’t wear that. As long as he could move in it, I didn’t care. He could go naked as far as I was concerned as long as he won the fight.

  Soren came over and stood next to me as soon as I walked in. He lowered his voice, and bent over slightly. “One last fight, Young One. How do you feel?”

  Surprisingly, there were no nerves when I thought about the outcome. Maybe it was Isabelle’s belief that all would be fine, but I truly believed myself that Gregor would win. I wasn’t sure about what kind of shape he would be in when he won, but I had faith he would be the victor. “Feeling surprisingly well, Soren.”

  He nodded, appraising my features as if he was searching for the lie. “Good,” he said, finally agreeing. “Dumont is a bit of a mystery, even to those who knew him as well as I once did. I’ve already discussed with Gregor that there is nothing I can give him about his fighting style that might help. He doesn’t seem perturbed by this.”

  I shrugged. “If you don’t know, you don’t know. Why would he get upset?”

  Soren blinked. When he spoke, his voice came out slow and soft as if he was in the midst of thinking about something in a memory. “I don’t know, Young One. I guess I don’t know.” He stared back at the scene before us. Gregor and Isabelle sat on the bench I’d occupied only yesterday. All four princes stood in front of them. Nic had assured me they’d warmed Gregor up before anyone else got there. I was hoping that was true. The last thing we needed was for Gregor to injure himself and not be able to fight back. Soren leaned over again. “The only thing I did tell Gregor was that he shouldn’t be surprised to see anything. I can’t say I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumont did something…underhanded.”

  A pit opened in my stomach. If he cheated, I’d kill him myself. I wondered what the punishment would be for that one? It didn’t matter. I’d take all of it, and with pride. If Gregor was going to lose, I wanted him to do so with dignity and respect. Cheaters didn’t respect their opponents, they were selfish and entitled. Then again, that encompassed everything Dumont was and Gregor wasn’t.

  Before I could make an intelligent reply, Soren put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go out to the arena now.”

  Gregor stood. “No need. We all know who my opponent’s going to be. I’m ready to take my place.”

  Isabelle swallowed, then stood to take her place next to her husband. The princes all flanked in behind their father as he walked through the exit. T.J. gave me a smile as Connor pulled my hand to put me in front of him in line. “This is your spot,” he said, holding me firmly by the shoulders.

  Pride swept through me as if pixie dust was spread upward from my toes all the way to my head. I was a Ravana. Mimicking Isabelle, I inclined my head. Not to look down on others, but to show them what courage looked like. To show them what respect for oneself looked like. I breathed in normal air, and it came out like fire. Energy sizzled in my veins, more so than even before the beginning of my own fight. Everything hinged on this.

  Our steps echoed as we made our way through the hall and then into the small vestibule that opened up to the side lawn where the makeshift arena had been quickly built less than a week ago. Instead of the uproarious frenzy of yesterday, the Ravana clan members stood quietly. Not out of concern or fear, but out of respect. I latched eyes with some as we walked the short path. My gaze flitted from one to the other as I noticed a pattern. There was a sea of burgundy on our side with little blips of yellow. Everywhere I looked, people wore that color, that same insignia. I tried to make it out, but before long, our line stopped. I halted just a breath away from walking into Stephan in front of me.

  Up ahead, Gregor leaned down to kiss Isabelle on the lips. He took her chin in his hands and said something I couldn’t hear. She nodded, a small smile gracing her face. Then, it was Christian’s turn. He and his father exchanged a hug and words, and on down the line he went, saying something to each of us. When he got to me, he cupped the side of my head. “My daughter, if your actions yesterday gave me anything, it was that bravery is an act to be admired. I’ll try to be like you out there, Ariana.” He smiled and then moved to Connor before I could even respond. My mouth dropped, his words still ringing around in my head. Daughter. Bravery. Daughter. I swallowed, trying to hold back the sudden emotion threatening to break free. If Isabelle wasn’t going to cry, neither was I.

  As we moved into the first row, Connor dropped a piece of fabric around my head. I pulled it out, noticing the royal burgundy color and the familiar insignia from what everyone else wore. My finger stroked the emblem, a fierce bird, its wings unfurled to their full width as orange and yellow fire roared from its mouth. I lifted a confused glance to Connor. “A dragon?”

  He shook his head. “No, a firebird. In mythology, a firebird can raise from the ashes after death.”

  “Everyone else is wearing these, too.”

  He put his fingers through mine and squeezed. “It’s the Ravana family crest, Princess. You should get used to it.”

  I sucked in a breath. How had I not known that before? My mind raced, throwing picture after picture at me in an instant. In the grand hall, the fine adornments near the ceiling, statues… But, they weren’t obscure statues at all, they were of the firebird. And in the family room above the mantle, there was a large bird with outstretched wings. Also, a firebird. My mind hadn’t focused on it because it didn’t know what it was, but if I’d only looked a little harder, I would’ve seen the family crest throughout all the workings of the estate.

  I pulled the scarf lower and rearranged it so the firebird was on display. Out of the ashes, a phoenix will rise…

  Gregor headed into the arena, his steps careful yet purposeful as they moved toward the center. The
crowd hushed. In my mind, thoughts filtered in and out. Where had he put his stakes? Did he have any other weapons? Why hadn’t I paid attention?

  I gulped the anxiety down and focused. I squeezed Connor’s hand and then took Stephan’s in my other and stroked his fingers. His trembled in mine, and I prayed to God that whatever happened, he would be spared from any horrific memories.

  As time built and another fighter never joined Gregor, the tension rose. Even our clan got antsy and whispers started. Was Dumont coming? Was this already over?

  My heart beat like mad in my chest, thumping against my rib cage in an unsteady rhythm that hollowed my stomach. What if he didn’t come?

  At that thought, the crowd on Dumont’s side parted. All eyes moved there. A large figure, too tall to be Dumont emerged first. Diesel, in all his beastly glory towered over the other clan members. He thrust a body forward and the spectators all gasped at once. Dumont.

  Diesel took Dumont by the neck and then threw him forward again. At that, Dumont finally did straighten. He lifted his chin in the air and buttoned his suit coat as he walked to the center. Diesel followed after, not more than ten steps behind the entire time as if Dumont needed a bodyguard. Not a bodyguard, a babysitter.

  The whispers rose. I didn’t know where they originated from, his own clan or the pure speculation of ours, but soon, everyone whispered about how Dumont had tried to escape. Left in the middle of the night with no intention of returning for this fight today. Diesel went after him, dragging him back to finish what he’d started. I could believe it. The way Diesel sat back with his hands crossed over his chest looked like he meant business.

  Dumont, though, still stood in all his superior glory. He didn’t look as if he had tried to run away, he looked as haughty as ever. I wished Gregor would get in a punch to the face just for me. I’d never have my chance.

  I looked down the line to see Soren staring back at me, his lips curled back into a smirk. He shook his head, pure amusement on his face. It was clear he was loving this turn of events and that he believed it wholeheartedly. What kind of leader would start a war he wasn’t willing to finish? What kind of sorry excuse for a person would leave everyone who looked up to him to fend for themselves?

  I didn’t have time to ponder more because Dumont was on the move. He was awkward and clumsy, even more so than Gregor. The more I saw, the more my eyes narrowed. He was kidding, right? He looked as if he hadn’t seen the inside of a training room ever. It would stand to reason that people had a base for self-defense at a pure instinctual level, but looking at Dumont, I wasn’t sure if that was the case. He looked like a wobbly toddler, unsure of his own feet, let alone his own hands. They might as well have been alien hands for the good they did him.

  If it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, I may have laughed at the two in their business suits that would likelier be seen on Wall Street than in a field meant for death.

  Gregor pulled a stake from his pocket and I sighed in relief. He sat back into a halfway decent fighting stance as Dumont tripped over his own two feet ahead of him. Cautious, Gregor approached him and wheeled his stake at his opponent’s body. Dumont moved just out of the way.

  “It might be a trap,” Connor said, keeping his voice low so Stephan couldn’t hear. I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t take my eyes away from the match, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Stephan wasn’t watching at all.

  Out in front of us, Diesel threw a stake to the ground at Dumont’s feet. My jaw dropped even wider. He didn’t even have a weapon on him? What was this nonsense?

  Gregor moved forward, kicking it away. Dumont had already went for it, giving Gregor a clear shot. He struck his hand out and stabbed him in the fleshy part of the arm. Dumont howled in pain, his fingers immediately going to the wound.

  Stephan stiffened. I squeezed his hand once. “That was Dumont. Gregor’s okay. He’s doing good.”

  He immediately relaxed, so I focused on the fight in front of me again.

  Dumont stared at Gregor, his eyes narrowing until his face was red and sour. Out of pure rage, he lunged at Gregor. Surprised, Gregor didn’t move in time. They stumbled backward until Gregor regained his footing and pushed Dumont aside. Dumont fell to the ground in a heap. Pushing himself up, he brushed off the knees of his suit pants. His mouth moved. I strained to hear, but there was nothing my weak human ears could pick up.

  Gregor shook his head. He turned on his vampire speed and barreled straight for Dumont. He raised his stake high. My heart lurched in my chest and I leaned forward. Dumont staggered back, his hands going to the stake sticking out of the skin around his collarbone.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. He hadn’t killed him, but he’d injured him again. Dumont pulled the stake from him and held it in his hand. A douse of cold air swept over me. Now Dumont had a stake. He came forward, awkwardly swinging the weapon through the air in large arcs and sweeping movements. Gregor dodged out of the way, then made a tremendous block that brought a huge smile to my face. The force of the block knocked the stake from Dumont’s grip. They wrestled on their feet for a few moments until Gregor pushed Dumont back.

  They both gulped in air, their shoulders raising and lowering. With his eyes still on his opponent, Gregor crouched in front of him to pick up the stake. In a flurry, Gregor chased Dumont around the arena. They were like two blurring streaks to my eyes. Wherever Dumont went, though, Diesel was right there, his hands crossed in front of him like our own personal border patrol. It wasn’t until then I realized that Dumont wasn’t running away of Gregor’s advances, he was trying to escape all together. The spectators on the Dumont side inched close together. Even if he did get by Diesel, which was highly unlikely, there was nowhere for Dumont to go. He had to fight.

  The Dumont Clan’s side of the arena buzzed. They looked at one another, their eyebrows raising into their hairlines, and still they whispered. Some began to yell out, others even refused to watch the fight at all. This wasn’t really a fight, it was hide and go seek and Gregor was doing all the seeking.

  Finally, he caught up with Dumont and threw him to the ground. He towered over him and brought the stake down. My heart popped into my throat as the stake pierced Dumont’s skin. I inched closer, trying to see everything. The crowd gasped, but Dumont screamed. His voice rose with pleas for help, but no one came for him. Gregor dropped to the ground and straddled Dumont’s body. Grabbing another stake from his waist, he held it high in the air. This time, he brought it down with precision. There was no fancy arc, just pure, unrelenting ferocity. It sank easily into Dumont’s marble exterior. I knew just by the look of the strike it had sunk through several layers of skin and bone before penetrating Dumont’s heart.

  The old vampire was still for several seconds before his whole body convulsed. Slowly, Gregor got to his feet. He stepped back, quickly, awkwardly. All around us, the Ravana Clan started to cheer, but those of us in that front row, we stood with our hearts in our throats.

  His shoulders lifted and steadied. He turned, his hand to his heart, and faced us. At once, our bodies sighed in relief. Gregor had done it. He’d beat Dumont—and lived.

  Connor was the first to drop my hand and jump over the waist-high barrier before us. He became a blur until he stood right next to his dad, his arms enveloping him. I felt Stephan’s absence shortly after until it was just me in that row. I may not have been a vampire, but I could still run pretty fast. I got there as quick as I could, eager to share their joy and relief. Gregor did what Dumont couldn’t. No, it wasn’t defeat another leader in a battle to the death. It was stand up for what was right, no matter the cost. It was putting his life on the line to benefit those who couldn’t. It was putting others’ lives in front of his own. The words Soren spoke to me what seemed like a lifetime ago came back.

  People don’t want someone they can follow. They want someone who will be right there next to them, fighting with them.

  Gregor Ravana was the epitome of that statement. He’d
just proved it not only to his entire clan, but to Dumont’s Clan too.

  Today, the firebird didn’t need to be resurrected. Thank God.

  In a way, though, it had. New life flared underneath the surface of all those who stood with the Ravanas. Loyalty, and truth, and hard work, and justice had won. Now, we as a people could stand together and make our lives better.

  29

  Gregor turned in a circle. His suit was torn in some areas and dusty in others, but he still looked every bit the part of fierce leader. We all stood back, allowing him space. His face held that of calm control with boiling pride underneath. “My people,” he called out.

  Ravana Clan members immediately silenced. Those who still stuck around from the Dumont side looked awkward, glancing from their neighbor to the next.

  “Today, we proved that what is right is always right. We did not resort to cheating or trickery. We did not deviate from honor, and stood for what we believed in. We did not settle!” His voice rang through the arena as clear as if he stood right next to me and spoke into my ear. Goosebumps coursed over my arms. Was that yet another nifty vampire trick? A voice like a megaphone when you needed it?

  “We came together and fought for the safety of our families and the sanctity of our beliefs, and we persevered.” He nodded, still turning and staring from one face in the crowd to the next. “New friends,” he added, stopping in front of the former Dumont Clan, “you may come or stay as you wish. I am no self-righteous leader, but one who leads with the help of his own. I will welcome you into this life if you so choose. Or, by the contract I signed with the late Dumont, you may leave now and no harm will ever come to you. You can choose to stay now and leave later and still, you can leave without fear you will be persecuted for your choice. We only want those who choose to life the way we wish.”

  He walked around the perimeter. “If you choose to stay, we can be stronger together. We will learn to live together as new and old. In my clan, there is always room for those who want better. Who want the strength of a group rather than the solitariness of a single. For those who want protection and unity.”