I might not have believed myself to be the toughest or the strongest, but by damn, I was going to have the biggest trophy of them all and they’d all be forced to give me some respect when I got back.
You’re not weak. They just don’t want to acknowledge your strengths, my conscience whispered at the precise time I needed to hear those kinds of words. You’re just as capable as any of them, more so really… I smiled, thankful that I had my own back when the going got tough. Every time I needed an extra boost of confidence or felt myself spiraling too far down from doubt over the last couple of years, a voice that didn’t sound quite like mine whispered to me all the right things at just the right moment. In fact, the voice wasn’t feminine at all, but masculine and sexy. Crazy? Probably, but I took the positives where I could get them. Maybe the voice wasn’t mine because I needed validation from elsewhere and concocted it to fill that need. Again, crazy? Yep, but it served a purpose and I couldn’t explain it away otherwise.
Setting off through the tree line that had concealed my presence, I reached the edge of the deteriorating cemetery within moments. Entering through a wrought-iron gate, I looked around, taking in all sorts of headstones in various states of disrepair as the same sensation that had pulled me there time and time again grabbed ahold of me, tightening its grip. The place looked as if a human hadn’t set foot there in years, and aside from the times I’d dared to enter, it probably wasn’t far from the truth.
Just up ahead I caught sight of the building with the two dragon statues guarding its entrance and cautiously made my way over to it. One dragon’s nose had crumbled with little bits of it littering the ground. Every time I saw it, it was just a little more decayed than it had been the last time.
My hand grazed the top of the other dragon as I passed by them. Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the gate and entered the mausoleum. It looked about like what I expected. A large tomb sat in the middle with decayed leaves that had found their way in on the wind scattered around. Dirt gathered in the corners and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. The smell of decay tickled my nose.
Just off to the side of the tomb was a door, barely noticeable in the shadows, just like Master Lewis had said there would be. Had I not specifically been there looking for it, I might not have seen it at all.
Trudging over to the door, I reached for the handle. A loud creak disturbed the silence as I pulled it open, revealing a passageway of stairs that would lead me down to where the vampire king slept. I pulled out a small flashlight I’d been allowed to have from the bag and clicked it on, but it was barely enough to illuminate the stairs. It’d have to do, but I could at least try and get a sense of what lay before me by utilizing the observation skills I’d learned.
Closing my eyes, I listened, tapping into what had been drilled into my head about being my surroundings, not just existing in them. Hearing absolutely nothing, not even the chirping of birds from outside, I inched my way through the door and to the top of the stairs, careful of where I placed my feet.
Whispering to my father to protect me if he could, I opened my eyes and headed straight toward my mission. Straight for the vampire king.
3
Delia
The passageway was dark and stale, the air thin and musty.
My heart beat like a rapid drum in my chest as my hands began to shake. Taking deep breaths, I took a minute to calm myself before moving forward. A slayer controlled her body, not the other way around. Mind over matter. I steadied my shaking hands and moved forward.
After traveling down the stairs for a few minutes, the passage narrowed, and a rubble of stone littered the opening, cutting off the way for the most part. I managed to slip through a gap that was just big enough for my body, but my bag had to stay behind. I couldn’t afford to have it affixed to me should I need to make a quick exit. It was no matter anyway. I had everything I needed. My sword, my knife, a flashlight, and a book of matches in my pocket in case the flashlight crapped out on me. I’d just leave the bag on the other side of the gap where I could retrieve it on my way out.
The further I moved down the stairs, the more each step became a new obstacle. Divots, holes, and craters littered the way, but after what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached the bottom
The blood rushed through my veins, carrying with it adrenaline and fear, all wrapped in the unmistakable pull I’d felt so many times before. Had it really been the vampire king all along trying to lure me here? And if so, why? What purpose would bringing me to him serve?
Stepping into the room at the bottom of the stairs, the flashlight I carried lit up a small portion of the room in front of me, but it wasn’t nearly bright enough to be able to see to complete the mission. I peered around the mostly-darkened chamber. There was no vampire king to be seen, though I could definitely feel his presence there. It was strange feeling connected to the very thing I was sent to kill, but the further I moved into the room, the more drawn to him I became.
I tried to shake the feeling off and continue forward. If I hoped to complete the mission, I’d definitely need more light and free hands. Setting the flashlight down on the ground, my fingers grazed the wall as I moved along the perimeter of the room until I found a sconce cradling two fat candles, covered in dust and cobwebs. Wiping the dirt away from them as best I could, I took out the book of matches from my pocket and removed one match. Striking it on the stone wall, I lit the candles, thankful for the extra light.
Scanning what I could see of the room, I found another sconce directly across from the other. I quickly blew the dust away and lit the candles in the second sconce. Squinting my eyes to adjust to the lighting, I could make out a mass along the back wall and several more sconces decorating the area. The mass was large and rectangular with something—presumably the vampire king—lying on top of it.
Swallowing hard, I inched my way forward and lit the remaining candles. I wanted to look at him, to see my target and dispatch him quickly, hopeful that ending him would end the force that had begun to take over my life, but my gut clenched, forcing me to turn away. Trust your gut, I could almost hear Harmon saying. It had been drilled into my head from the beginning and now was not the time to turn my back on my instincts.
But why couldn’t I look at him? He was a monster who stole human blood to quench an insatiable thirst and satisfy a murderous rage. The number of victims he’d created was probably too high to fathom. He deserved to die, and I deserved to finally prove to the council, my peers, and to Harmon that I was capable of being a slayer and belonged amongst their ranks, despite what they all might have thought of me. I was the daughter of Drew Adams, damn it.
I wondered what the king’s appearance would be like and if the sensation that had haunted me over the years would intensify when I saw him, but it still wasn’t quite time to face those feelings and look at him straight on. I needed to pull myself together first. Master Lewis had been right. The king was unguarded, and the place didn’t look like anyone had been there in as many years as he’d been asleep. I was confident I could take a minute to gather my wits.
Would he look like the other desiccated vampires I’d seen at the training grounds? Or was he different because of his heritage? I envisioned him with dry, flaking skin and sunken-in eyes. His hair was probably gray and scraggly, if he had hair at all. I imagined claws, stained with the blood of his last victim—maybe even my own father’s if he’d managed to land any blows during their battle—and pointed canine teeth jutting out beneath recessed lips. Tattered garments would surely cover his frail body. He may have been one of the strongest creatures the council had ever encountered, but without blood, he was surely little more than a corpse now.
I’ve got this, I told myself. He’s mostly dead already anyway. Just turn around, march over to him, and stick your damn blade right into his black heart. Do the world a favor and end him.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Whispering a quick assurance to myself, I drew my sword and opened my eyes. Moving forw
ard, I got my first glimpse of him. His frame was much larger than I’d anticipated. He took up most of the space on the slab where his body lay, easily six-foot-three or so, if I had to guess.
As I approached, and he came into view more clearly, I found that he didn’t look anything like the sleeping and desiccated vampires I’d seen back at the academy, nothing like a vampire who had gone a decade without blood.
Holy fucking hell, he’s hot…
His pale skin was not dry, nor flaking. It was supple and bright and almost human-esque in appearance, like he’d fed recently. Surely, they hadn’t sent me on a mission that would get me killed so easily. But maybe that was their plan all along. To dispose of me early on so they would have an excuse to bring in another recruit—more suited to the work in their eyes—up to take my place. Maybe it was a way to free Harmon from the arrangement Dad had set up before he died so he could lead the slayers with an equal at his side.
But if the king had fed recently, he wouldn’t still be here sleeping, oblivious to my presence, would he? No, it was more likely that the witch’s spell had simply captured him in time, preserving the way he’d looked when he’d been put to sleep.
I couldn’t believe my father had actually enlisted the help of a witch in the first place. His hatred for them rivaled that of his hatred for vampires. But then, maybe being betrayed the way he had been was why he distrusted them so much.
My gaze moved further over his body from the leather boots on his feet, up over the dark denim clinging to his legs. From there, my gaze drifted to his chest, massive-looking underneath the black button-up shirt covering it. Moving on from there, my eyes traveled up his body to the dark and shiny hair that looked like wisps of silk framing his face, nothing like the dry and scraggly pieces I’d imagined.
I reached out to run my fingers through it before stopping myself. I hadn’t meant to try to touch him, but there my hand went anyway, as if something else had complete control over it.
But as enticing as his body and hair were, nothing could’ve prepared me for the brilliance of his face. It was nothing like I’d imagined.
The thought of ‘holy fucking hell he’s hot’ was a bit premature. He was hot for sure, but his face… Holy fucking hell, he was beautiful.
His chiseled jaw looked like it could cut marble. His chin, prominent and strong, was like it’d been designed by a master sculptor. Dark brows situated above closed eyes that I ached to see the color of. Somehow, as if he had invaded my mind at that very moment, I knew they were intense blue, like they could look right through me to the core of my soul.
His mouth though… Captivating and the most kissable lips I’d ever seen. A cupid’s bow with a full and luscious bottom lip, calling out to me through the darkness to give in to them. I leaned forward, my lips aching to touch his, like that action alone would cure the heaviness and pain that had gripped my heart yet again. The thought of our lips touching was mesmerizing and lulled me into a trance I wasn’t eager to break free from.
Subtly shaking my head, I pulled back. What in the absolute fuck am I doing? Was this some sort of trick? How could I possibly be tempted to kiss a vampire?
I was there to slay him, not fuck him.
Okay, so there’s a pretty big leap between a kiss and a fuck, but still… He was a vampire, and I was a slayer with a fiancé at home. Even if he did act like a jackass sometimes, he was at least human.
It had to be some sort of influence the vampire exerted over me, but that wasn’t possible. For all intents and purposes, he was basically dead, unable to use any vampiric abilities at all, or at least that’s what I’d been led to believe. But how else could I explain it or the nagging feeling that dragged me to that place time and time again?
Still, his lips tempted me, but I forced myself to think of Harmon’s lips instead and how warm they were. How he kissed me was… nice. Not that it happened all that often. He always seemed more inclined to kiss me on the forehead than he did on the lips, but I did enjoy kissing him during those special times. I’d be lying though if I said I saw fireworks every time our lips met.
Harmon is familiar and predictable. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve the world. There was that tempting masculine voice whispering to me again.
The possibility that the vampire represented excitement in my otherwise vanilla love-life didn’t escape me, but the ache intensified, refusing to dissipate, despite pulling myself away and picturing the lips of my fiancé. The sensation overwhelmed my body, driving me forward again. Leaning closer, I continued to study his face.
How could something so breathtakingly beautiful be so evil?
I wasn’t generally prone to doing crazy things. In fact, I believed that to be the reason I hadn’t progressed in the academy as fast as my peers had. That is, until I found out Harmon had been the real reason I’d been left behind.
Would it really hurt anything if I stole a kiss before ending him? Maybe that could be my thing. I could be the slayer who doled out the kiss of death to her prey just before ending them. Sounded pretty bad-ass if I did say so myself. Of course, it wouldn’t really be practical when faced with creatures who were on the move and actively trying to kill me, but this one… This one was still and ripe for the kissing.
I knew how silly it sounded, and questioned my sanity the moment I’d thought it, but the urge to kiss him strengthened by the second, and if I didn’t do something soon… I briefly pondered leaving him to his dark slumber, ashamed that I’d be the one responsible for stealing such beauty from the world, but I feared I’d be compelled to return there again if I didn’t end him. There was only one thing left to do. Time to get this over with. What could one kiss hurt anyway? Do it, and then he’s dead.
Leaning forward, my fingers grazed the light stubble along his jawline before touching the softness of his hair. The difference in texture caused my fingertips to tingle. Closing my eyes, an image of the two of us embracing in the near-darkness of the room was so clear it was like I could see a movie playing out before me. It only stoked my desire, pushing me forward.
I pressed my lips to his.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, exhilaration pulsed out in waves through my body, sending goosebumps prickling over my flesh. Parting my lips a little, I kissed him deeper, grazing his tongue with mine. I hadn’t meant to do more than give him a quick peck to satisfy the unexpected urge to make out with him, but once my lips met his, it was like a trance had locked me into place, forcing the kiss to strengthen as a new sensation gripped my heart, sending the aching heaviness spiraling into oblivion.
The kiss was like nothing I had experienced in my twenty-one years of life. I kissed him like I’d found a long-lost lover, like this was the person I was meant to kiss for all eternity. But that couldn’t be. He was a vampire, and I was a slayer.
I screamed out in my mind to pull away from him, to stab him through the chest with my sword and get the hell out of that place. The fact that it felt so good and so right had to be the vampire playing tricks on me.
His lips, hard and cold at first, softened, stealing my warmth, capturing the passion I poured over him.
But, wait…
How had his lips softened and warmed so easily against mine? How had they become so pliable, so warm, and so passionate? Shouldn’t they have been cold, stone-like, and motionless?
And in that moment, I had my answer.
His hand nestled on my nape, locking me into in place, as he returned the kiss with fervor and fiery desire.
4
Delia
My stomach nearly jumped into my throat as I pushed myself away with all of my might, a screech bursting from my throat. Scrubbing my lips with the sleeve of my jacket, my eyes didn’t leave his. Bright blue and haunting, just like I had imagined them to be. He had definitely planted the image of himself in my mind when I wondered what they would look like.
“A thousand years and I’ve never been kissed like that,” he said, a hint of an accent I couldn
’t quite place decorating his words. It was almost American, but not quite, like some ancient tongue still clung to his words. “Can’t exactly say I hated it.”
No doubt in my mind, he had orchestrated the whole thing, from luring me there to the kiss he’d made me plant on him. It was all him, and he was so going to die for it.
I orchestrated nothing, but you liked it as much as I did. I spat at the thought, and in that moment, I knew the impossibly sexy voice I’d heard in my head so many times before belonged to him. The same cadence he used now had whispered sweet encouragement to me so many times. What kind of a sick game has this fucker been playing with me?
A deep chuckle resonated from within the vampire.
“Didn’t mean to offend, but I believe it was you who kissed me. And now you want to act disgusted because I followed your lead? I could’ve just killed you, you know.”
I didn’t hesitate a moment more. I charged the vampire, sword drawn and ready to pierce his heart. Procrastination and stupidly giving into primal urges had been a mistake. A mistake I was going to correct. He had just woken up, and I was willing to bet he wouldn’t be nearly as quick or deadly without feeding recently.
My eyes locked on the vampire’s as he lounged on the stone slab as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Instinct and years of training took over, guiding me to what would be my first real kill outside the training yard. My breath steadied as I jutted my sword down toward his chest.
I blinked, and the silver blade hit the slab, sending a pulse of energy up my arms that nearly caused me to drop my weapon.
Clinging to the hilt, I whirled around to face him.
He stood in the center of the room, the corner of his lip turned up in a cocky grin. His eyes focused on me, begging for me to come to him.
So, I did.
This time he didn’t move away at the last second, and my sword hit his hand as he raised it to block. The silver edge of the blade singed his flesh as it sliced into him. His lips parted, giving me the first glimpse of his fangs, while rage danced in his eyes.
Beyond the Veil (Vampires of Velum Mortis Book 1) Page 3