Gritting his teeth in resolve, he burst through the doors of his father’s large chamber, opening them with is mind. He slammed the doors behind him, making sure the sound would echo loudly.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the prodigal son. You seem upset, Darkrip.” Crimeous’ tone was antagonizing as he sat in his leather chair, thin fingers steepled in front of his face.
“You attacked Uteria without telling me. Of course I’m pissed. I would’ve liked to have been part of the raid. I haven’t raped or killed in weeks. Why did you deny me?”
The Dark Lord’s beady eyes formed into slits. “I felt it best to ensure a surprise attack. I fear that you have become emotionally involved with the Slayer princess.”
Darkrip scoffed. “She is nothing to me. A nuisance. I will kill her myself if you command.”
Crimeous remained silent, studying him.
“I only wish to help you conquer the land of the immortals, Father,” he said. Vomit burned in his throat as he called the creature by the name he swore he never would. But these were desperate times. He must employ every method possible to regain his trust.
The Deamon stood, a look of pleasure crossing his hideous face. “You have finally called me ‘Father’. It is a welcome sign. I wonder if your motivations are pure.”
“My motivation is to kill the other immortals so that you can reign over all the kingdoms. If I have not made that clear, then I have failed. If you no longer trust me then banish me, for I will never cease fighting for you.” Revulsion ran through him at the words.
Crimeous slowly walked from behind his desk to stand in front of him. Straightening, Darkrip firmly stood his ground.
“She has aligned with the Vampyres. Sathan marches two-hundred soldiers there as we speak.”
“I could attack them as they march,” he offered.
“No,” the Deamon said, shaking his head. “Let her regain her footing and begin to feel strong again. Her confidence will be her downfall.”
“As you wish.”
“I want you to continue visiting her, gaining her trust. I will be ready for her. After she is dead I will march on Uteria with her head on a spike. It will be a glorious day.”
Darkrip nodded and pinned his gaze to those dark, dead eyes. “Do not leave me out of your plans again. I won’t be so forgiving next time.”
Crimeous laughed, dark and hateful. “Your threat is noted, although weak. I have kept you alive all these years because you are my blood and a certain…fondness for you runs through me. Don’t mistake that for anything else. If I decide to end your life I won’t feel one once of pain. Tread lightly, Darkrip.”
“I will work on the Slayer princess,” he said, repugnance bubbling in his gut. “I will not fail.”
Pivoting, he stalked from the chamber.
* * * *
Sathan and Latimus returned to the compound as the night warred with impending dawn. Latimus parked the Hummer in the barracks and they entered through the back doorway. His brother muttered something about needing a drink and stalked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Sathan entered his office chamber, startled to see Lila staring absently out the window by his large mahogany desk.
“Lila,” he said, coming to stand behind her. “Are you okay?”
Her slim, pale fingers closed the shade so that they wouldn’t burn from the rays that would soon shine through.
“How is the Slayer princess?”
Alarm ran through him at her soft, dejected tone. “She is understandably upset. Many of her people died last night. But she’s strong. She will recover.”
Blond curls moved up-and-down as she nodded absently. “You have grown fond of her.”
Sathan studied her back, unsure what course to take. She didn’t seem angry. Instead, there was a sense of sadness in the hunch of her shoulders.
“Lila,” he said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Turning, she gazed up at him with those violet eyes. He had always thought them so pretty, so unique. She really was a beautiful woman. Why he had never felt attraction toward her was puzzling.
“Can I speak frankly?”
“Always,” he said, clasping her hand and pulling her to the conference table. He nudged her into the chair usually reserved for his brother and sat at his usual seat at the head of the table. Grasping both of her hands, he pulled them on top of the table and squeezed, giving her support as she contemplated her words.
“I have felt so lucky to be your betrothed. For ten centuries we have been inexorably tied together. You have brought me into your council and into your family. For that I am eternally grateful.”
“Your council is valuable to me, Lila. It is I who is lucky to have you.”
Pink lips formed a ghost of a smile, the light not reaching her eyes. “Although we are betrothed I think it is time we are honest with each other. I love and respect you as my king, but I think we both can admit that this is not a love match.”
Sathan inhaled, looking at their joined hands. “Lila, it’s not you—”
A tiny laugh burst from her lips and his gaze lifted back to hers.
“What?”
“Are you going to give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech? Because I think that’s beneath both of us.”
“You’re right,” he said, squeezing her hands. Needing space, he stood and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I don’t know what to say. I truly care for you and want to honor our betrothal. I have never wished to bond for love. My duty is to have heirs and I would be honored for them to share your blood.”
Smiling faintly, she began toying with her long hair. It was an absent gesture she did when she was restless. “It sounds so formal. Blood lines and heirs. Don’t you want more?”
“I want what’s best for my people. That means bonding with you.”
As her fingers toyed, she chewed on her lip. “I don’t think it does. A bonding cannot last on mutual respect alone. Eventually we all crave something more. Don’t we?”
“I don’t,” he said firmly.
Standing, she seemed to float toward him. “I saw you with her. So passionate, so…raw. I never understood that it could be like that. You deserve to feel that every day. I won’t deny you that.”
Shit. He felt like an absolute jerk. “You saw us in the hallway, by my mother’s portrait.”
“Yes,” she said. “It was…consuming.”
“I don’t have the luxury of feeling passion. Any chance of that disappeared the day my parents were murdered.”
Compassion filled her gaze. “You have been so strong. For all of us. Such a mighty leader. It is time I show strength for you.” Lifting her hand to cup his cheek, she said, “I want you to summon Etherya and ask her blessing to end our betrothal.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head against her hand. “You are to be queen and I won’t deny you that.”
“I don’t want to be a queen of an ivory castle, imprisoned in a loveless bonding. I thought I could for so many centuries. But then I saw you with her and it…unlocked something inside of me. I tried to push it away but it’s there. Gnawing at me. I wonder if someone might look at me that way one day. Probably not,” she said, lowering her head to look at his chest, “but perhaps.”
Sathan felt a jolt of awareness. He realized that he had never even thought that she might have feelings for another man. What a conceited ass he was. He lifted her chin with his fingers, reclaiming her gaze. “Is there someone else? I should’ve asked long ago. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“No,” she said, but an expression of longing crossed her beautiful features. “There was someone I might have felt something for…but he didn’t feel the same about me. And that’s okay. It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Whoever he is, I find it hard to believe that he didn’t want you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.”
“Says the man who has fallen for a Slayer,” she said, without malice or judgement.
&n
bsp; “Miranda and I are…complicated. We have no future since we cannot produce heirs. Although I care for her, I would not jeopardize our kingdom’s prosperity for her.”
“You have always been a noble ruler, putting your people before yourself. But I would be careful to postulate that you know the future. Others have done so at their peril. Our future can be what we make it, if we have the courage to try.”
“I can’t change biology.”
“There is always a way, if we choose to see it. My father taught me that before he passed. He was always able to see a solution for even the most difficult situation.”
“He was our most esteemed diplomat. You must miss him terribly.”
A small sigh escaped her lips. “I do. I think that the best way for me to honor his memory is to become a great diplomat, as he was.” Lowering her hand from his face, she placed it on his chest. “I thought I wanted to be queen. It’s all I’ve trained for my whole life. When I saw you with the Slayer I was devastated.”
“Lila,” he said, cupping her soft cheek. “I’m so sorry—”
“Wait,” she said, her palm applying pressure to his chest. “I was devastated because it was the first time I ever entertained that I might not be queen. It was jolting and confusing and I was thrown off balance. But as the days have worn on, I see that there could be another option for me. I could become the kingdom’s diplomat, as my father was, and honor my duty that way. And that is what I wish to do.”
Tilting her head back further, she looked directly into him, resolved. “I want you to summon Etherya and ask her to end the betrothal. After that, I will take my seat in your council as the Kingdom Secretary Diplomat. It was the title my father held and it is the one I wish to hold. Peace with the Slayers is close and I want to be the one who implements it. The trains are a massive project and you’ll need me to travel to the compounds to ensure proper adoption. I would like this to be my new role. If you agree, of course.”
Sathan deliberated, his eyes darting over her flawless features. If it was what she truly wanted, he could not deny her. “I would be doing this for you, Lila. You understand this, right? I would still bond with a Vampyre when I am ready to produce heirs. This is independent of the Slayer. Is it what you really want?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will summon the goddess,” he said, lowering to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “You deserve to have the life you want.”
“And so do you,” she said, smiling up at him. “You will find a way to love your Slayer. I know you will.”
He let that one go, not wanting to discuss love. She didn’t seem to understand that duty would always trump love in his world.
They gave each other a hug and she bid him good night. When he was alone, he found himself staring at the shuttered window. Somewhere far away, as the sun was rising, his Slayer was working to rebuild her kingdom. Thousands of years of hate and tradition were being stripped away and rebuilt in a matter of weeks and months. The ground seemed to be shifting under his feet. The instability was disconcerting.
He had been betrothed to Lila his entire life. And yet, the whirlwind that was Miranda had consumed him. He owed it to Lila to end their betrothal.
Tomorrow he would summon the goddess.
* * * *
On the other side of the castle, Latimus sat upon his bed. Drinking Jack straight from the bottle, he allowed himself to seethe in his anger.
Earlier he had driven Sathan home, frustrated that his usually intelligent brother had become consumed with fucking a Slayer. Even if she was the most beautiful Slayer in the land, he saw the danger that came with his brother’s obsession.
After securing the barracks, he had rummaged around in the kitchen, unimpressed with the Slayer blood, cold chicken and pasta in the fridge. Instead, he pulled the bottle of Jack off the shelf. Deciding that he would stay in the main house for the night, he went off in search of Arderin. His little sister always seemed to be able to pull him from his foul moods, and the one he was in now was epic.
As he had passed Sathan’s office chamber, the door was slightly ajar and he heard Lila’s voice. Quietly, he stepped to observe them through the opening. Sathan was cradling her face, his gaze reverent, as she palmed his chest. Latimus’ heart clutched in pain as his brother lowered to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Fucking bastard. He had always accepted that Sathan was the better man. The better brother. The better king. That he deserved Lila because he wasn’t filled with the darkness and rage that seemed to consume Latimus.
A twisted sense of honor caused him to grit his teeth at the image before him. How could his brother treat Lila this way? Fucking the Slayer princess and then returning to clutch her in his arms? He felt a wave of disappointment at Sathan’s actions, compounded by the surge of jealousy that he always experienced when he saw them together.
He had never begrudged Sathan his betrothal. After all, he was king and he wanted heirs. He was a noble man, certainly more noble than Latimus, and he deserved the woman who was most precious in the realm.
Latimus had never even allowed himself to think he, the closed-off, war-hungry brother, was good enough for her. But he would be damned if he let his brother treat her like shit. She deserved better.
He stalked to his room on the basement floor, the one he kept for when he didn’t feel like venturing to his cabin on the outskirts of the compound. Sitting on his bed, he let the Jack dull the anger.
Tomorrow he would confront his brother. He, the man who had been horrid to Lila her whole life, would defend her honor. The irony was overwhelming. With a humorless laugh, he drowned the rest of the bottle.
* * * *
A world away, Kenden sat in his hotel room, working on his notes. He was nothing, if not thorough, and he felt it imperative that he document his findings accurately.
Several firm knocks sounded on his door.
“I didn’t order any room service,” he yelled.
The knocks repeated. Frustrated, he yanked open the door, anxious to tell the bus boy he had the wrong room.
Olive green eyes stared up at him.
“I think it’s time we had a little talk.”
He studied the woman, her hair the color of fire, the skin of her face slightly freckled. She seemed to sizzle with an unidentifiable energy that unnerved him. Rare, as he was usually unshakable, even in the midst of great unrest.
Why this woman, several inches shorter and with a slight frame, would faze him was beyond his comprehension.
Opening the door wider, she breezed past him.
As he closed the door, she walked to the desk in his room. Her fingers traveled over his open notebook, the pictures he had taken of her, his tiny, fragmented notes.
Gazing toward him, her perfectly-plucked, auburn-colored eyebrow arched. “Someone’s been busy.”
Walking over, he quickly covered his work, stuffing his notes in the notebook and closing it away from her view. “It took me centuries to find you. I figured I’d be thorough.”
Her red lips curved into a sexy smile and he felt an unwanted jolt of desire. This woman was trained in seduction. He could see it on her. Smell it. She would use it to destroy anyone she deemed a threat. “Now that you’ve found me, what will you do with me?” Lifting her red-nailed index finger, she traced the tip down his neck.
She gasped as he grabbed her wrist, yanking her hand away. Clutching, he held her firm. “I’m not someone you can seduce, so don’t waste your time.”
A nasty rage filled her grass-green eyes and she tried to pull her hand away. “Let me go or I’ll slit your throat right here.”
“Now there’s the real Evangeline. It’s nice to meet you.”
With a grunt, she pulled her wrist from his grasp. “It’s Evie,” she said, running her hand through her thick, shoulder-length hair. “And don’t even begin to think that I won’t kill you, Slayer. If I wanted to, I could snap your neck with a flick of my hand.”
“But you w
on’t,” he said, trusting his gut. “Your curiosity is too strong. You’re wondering why I’m here.”
She shrugged, feigning indifference, but he could read her well. She was interested. “I’m always up for a new challenge. Living amongst humans has its advantages. They’re so lively, what with their wine and their men always ready for a good lay. But lately I have grown a bit bored. So, I’m willing to listen.” She sat on the bed, crossing her white-pant covered legs, leaning back on her hands. Her breasts threatened to swell out of her low-cut shirt. “Courtesy of a human plastic surgeon. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
He scowled, furious at himself that she had noticed him eyeing her breasts.
“Times are changing quickly in the land of immortals,” he said, ignoring her question. “Miranda, Valktor’s heir, has freed the Blade of Pestilence and plans to march upon Crimeous. She won’t stop until he’s dead. She wishes for peace between all the immortals.”
The woman shook her foot absently as she regarded him. “Good for her. The old Deamon is an evil bastard. I hope she slits his throat and he drowns in his own blood.”
“I hope so, too. But you and I both know she might not be capable.”
She inhaled a sharp breath, her magnificent breasts rising and falling. “I want no part of this. I left the immortal world centuries ago. I would rather eat, drink and fuck the humans than be bogged down by the wars of Slayers, Deamons and Vampyres. If you’ve come to plead for my help, forget it. I’ll never go back there.”
Kenden regarded her. He had rarely seen someone as unemotional about war and death. “Is there no one left there that you care about? What about your brother?”
She scoffed, her head bending back and then returned her gaze to his. “He paid our caretaker to kill me. So no, I don’t have any love for brother dearest.”
“Is there anything you would consider fighting for? If Miranda fails to kill Crimeous with the Blade, it’s possible you could be our only hope.”
Sighing, the woman stood. She placed a hand on his face. The gesture would have been calming if it hadn’t been so rehearsed, so fake. He wondered how many men she had unwittingly seduced. She was masterful at it.
The End of Hatred Page 25