Colin the Conqueror

by Rhiannon Neeley

  Colin growled, thrusting his fist into the bloody cavity.

  The vampire grabbed his wrist with both hands, its eyes wide and terrified.

  “Die you bitch,” Colin said, ripping the heart from its moorings.

  The vampire went still, its hands falling away.

  Colin wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He took a deep breath, then coughed. The stench of blood permeated the room, blending with the smell of sweat. He looked around him, noting that the sounds of the fight had died down. He caught sight of Holt, moving through the carnage with his axe, stopping at the broken bodies of the vampires and neatly severing their heads with one smooth swipe of his deadly blade.

  The vampires were dead, lying in pools of dark, dank blood, their bodies ravaged from the anger of the Ravens.

  But there were soft moans coming from the couch where Casey had been pinned, and also from somewhere behind him. The Ravens had not become the victors unscathed.

  Colin realized that he was still holding the heart in his hand. He dropped it to the floor, wincing at the ugly sound of the wet flesh hitting the tile with a squish. Feeling the stretch of his overused muscles, he stood, wiping his hand on his pant leg. His face burned like fire where the vampire had raked him with her nails but that was the least of his concerns.

  He had to find Heather.

  Lydia hovered over Casey at the couch.

  “How is she?” Colin asked, stopping beside her.

  Lydia was busily wrapping a cloth torn from some article of clothing around Casey’s hand and wrist. “She’ll be fine. She’s got some deep cuts—mostly defense wounds to her hands and arms—and some pulled muscles but she’ll survive.”

  Colin nodded. Casey’s hands would be scarred but at least her face had remained untouched. “Who else is harmed?” He looked away trying to pinpoint where the most recent groan had come from.

  Lydia nodded her head toward the fireplace. “Drake. It’s his back, threw it out.”

  Colin saw Grace and Rogue helping Drake up from the floor. “Nothing major?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I doubt it. Drake’s in pretty good shape. He can take a lot of abuse.”

  “Have you seen John?”

  Lydia’s eyebrows drew together. “He probably went to Madison and Skylar.” She looked up at him. “Why?”

  “I’m going to find Heather.”

  Her hand shot out, clasping his wrist. “You can’t go alone. At least wait until dawn.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” Colin eased his wrist out of her hand. “I need to go. Now.”

  “I’ll go with you.” The deep, gruff voice came from behind him.

  Colin turned to find Holt, standing with his axe still dripping with gore but resting against his leg. “I’d appreciate it,” Colin said.

  Holt’s chin dipped in a barely perceptible nod.

  Colin tuned back to Lydia. “Eric and Dirk…”

  “I called them as soon as you told me to get the serum ready. They’re on their way back but I don’t know when they’ll get here.”

  Colin rested his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll tell the others where we’ve gone?”

  Lydia nodded. She placed her hand gently on top of his. “Stay safe,” she said.

  Colin gave her a small smile. “No question.”

  “You too, Holt,” Lydia added, peering around Colin.

  “Hmph.” Holt jiggled his axe, clearly anxious to do some more damage.

  Colin gave Lydia’s shoulder one last pat, then turned to Holt. “Ready?”

  With a sneer on his mouth, Holt’s eyes flashed. “Let’s finish it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Nicolas felt utterly intoxicated.

  He couldn’t keep from touching this wondrous beauty he had found. They walked quickly through the woods, his arm around her waist, keeping her close and guiding her around any obstacles that may trip her or bruise those delicate ankles of hers. Gazing down at her, Nicolas noted how the darkness seemed to draw back from her golden beauty. Even in the night, she glowed with an inner light. He couldn’t wait to taste her. He’d wager that the lifeblood that flowed through her veins tasted of warm sun and field flowers.

  Like Larissa.

  The thought vibrated through him to the marrow.

  “Oh!” Heather stumbled.

  Nicolas caught her up, clutching her to his chest before she fell. “I’m terribly sorry, my darling. My mind wandered for a mere moment and I almost allowed you to fall.”

  She craned her neck back.

  Nicolas felt a shudder pass through him at the sight of her pale slender neck. Then he looked into her large brown eyes, glittering in the moonlight. He was drowning.

  “But you caught me, Nicolas.” Her arms were around his neck, the press of the warmth of her tiny hand against his nape—seductive, alluring. When she spoke his name, it was a caress. All thought of Vincent and the others was gone. There was only Heather.

  And Nicolas could no longer wait.

  Nicolas groaned then crushed her lips beneath his. He felt her stiffen for a moment, then relax into him. Her delicate fingers trailed into his hair as she surrendered to him.

  It was then, the exact moment that Heather parted her lips and invited him into her warm, wet mouth, that Nicolas knew he was lost

  * * * *

  Heather fought for control.

  While his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, Heather struggled to fight the intoxicating lure of his vampiric sensuality. She knew from experience that resisting a vampire’s advances was almost impossible. They were highly sexual beings that could put even the strongest person under their spell.

  Heather melted beneath his assault, her mind begging her body for control of her actions. But his kiss sent heat through her, his tongue tracing her lips then nipping ever so gently. Heather moaned softly, her body beginning to take over even when her mind screamed to stop. His body was hard against her softness, his hair pure silk in her fingers. Lava pooled low in her belly as she pressed against him. His mouth moved to her neck, his lips grazing the tender flesh just below her ear. Heather closed her eyes. It felt so good, so powerful, knowing that there were dangerous daggers sheathed behind his lips. She remembered the sensation of a vampire’s bite—the sharp pain of the fangs sinking into her skin but then, the intense rush of passion filling her as the mouth began to drink.

  An image of Colin, his hair tousled with a smile on his face, appeared behind her eyelids. Colin.

  Heather’s eyes popped open. She pulled away from Nicolas’ seductive mouth. “Wait,” she said, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. She had come too close to giving in.

  “I have waited centuries,” Nicolas said. “I can wait no longer. I must taste you. I must have you.”

  Heather mentally shook herself. Her love for Colin was stronger than any vampire’s lure. “Now, yes,” she said, pulling her arms from around his neck. “But let’s fine a place with,” she winked, “room to move.”

  Nicolas’ eyes roamed over her face for a moment. “Whatever you say.”

  “Come on.” Heather disengaged herself from his embrace, her mind spinning with what she needed to do. She took his hand in hers and began picking her way through the underbrush toward a silvery blue glow she saw through the trees. There was a clearing up ahead, moonlight spilling down from a clear sky. She needed the space of the clearing—space to be able to get away once she began her assault.

  When they reached the edge, Heather wanted to sigh with relief but she didn’t dare. The clearing was wide, well sized, and brightly lit by the moon. Tall grass grew in the center and she caught a whiff of some sort of flower as she led Nicolas to the center of the clearing. Stopping, she turned to him, slipping her hand stealthily into the pocket of her flowing skirt. She fingered the hard cylindrical shape of the syringe.

  Nicolas cocked his head, his lips forming a smile. “You like this place better?”

  Heather nodded, looking h
im directly in the eye while she eased the cover off the needle of the syringe in her pocket. “This is much better.”

  Nicolas stepped closer, slipping one hand beneath her hair and cupping the nape of her neck. “What do you want, my sweet Heather?” he asked, brushing his lips over her forehead.

  She gripped the syringe and pulled it smoothly from her pocket.

  “You, Nicolas.” She tilted her head back and looked up into his face. “Now.”

  * * * *

  Colin and Holt moved through the woods. Quickly. Quietly. Carefully.

  Colin had found a small scrap of gauzy black material stuck on a low bush at the edge of the woods that bordered the manicured grounds of Ravencrest and followed the trail from there. They used no lights, going strictly by instinct and the light of the moon that filtered through the trees.

  Colin was sick at heart. Fear, confusion and anger flowed through him. Heather had said to trust her. He could only hope that she had the strength to withstand the seductive lure of immortality that Nicolas offered her. Though, if Colin had his way, Nicolas would soon no longer be immortal.

  He would be so much dust.

  Colin stopped beside a fallen tree, to get his bearings and clear his emotions. Now was not the time to be fueled by his emotions. He needed to be like Holt—cool, calm and dangerous.

  “They couldn’t have gotten very far,” Holt said, his voice unusually soft.

  Colin nodded. “Maybe it would be better if you led the way.”

  Holt cocked his head. Then he began to move away.

  Colin followed.

  * * * *

  Nicolas closed out the world.

  There was nothing in his mind except for this beauty standing before him in the moon’s loving light, offering herself to him. He could easily invade her mind and persuade her to do anything he desired but he held back. It would be so much more pleasurable to allow her to decide for herself. Like his Larissa had done so many lifetimes ago.

  Heather pressed against him, her body so warm and inviting. Nicolas actually felt alive. His own body reacted to her femininity, growing hard and already tensed to receive the heat of her body and the spice of her blood flowing down his parched throat. His mouth watered, his fangs pressing against his lips, calling to be unsheathed.

  “Are you quite sure about this?” he asked her. “You shall be mine for eternity if you surrender.”

  “Very sure,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck.

  *

  Heather was more nervous than she’d ever been in her life. It was all she could do to keep it hidden and also look seductive. Her arms were around Nicolas’ neck, the syringe in one hand. If only he would stop dragging this out and bite her!

  “I’m tired of waiting, Nicolas,” she said. She angled her head, exposing her neck. Her empty hand pressed against the back of his neck, urging him closer. “Drink, Nicolas.”

  He groaned and lowered his mouth to her neck. As soon as she felt his lips open, Heather thrust the syringe into the side of Nicolas’ own neck and pushed the plunger. Nicolas jerked, straightening.

  Heather held her breath, afraid that any movement she made would spell her death.

  Nicolas frowned and released her. He reached up and pulled the spent syringe from his neck. He held it up in the moonlight, turning it in his fingers as if it were some strange specimen. “What is this?” he asked, his voice strained.

  Heather took one backward step, then another. She tensed, her body sensing that the situation called for ‘fight or flight’. Fighting was not an option. Nicolas was powerful enough to rip her heart directly from her breast if he chose to. No, flight was the answer but she didn’t want to run too soon. He could easily catch her. Better to wait for the serum to take some sort of effect.

  If it had any effect at all.

  Nicolas tossed the syringe into the tall grass. “Heather?” He raised one hand toward her. The hand began to shake.

  “I can’t be yours, Nicolas.” Heather took another step backward. “You aren’t human. You aren’t anything close to being human.” She knew her words cut him. She could see it in his face now that the moon had mysteriously taken on an eerie brightening. The moonlight was no longer silvery and seductive. It was harsh and cold, washing the clearing in light almost as bright as a new dawn.

  “You said…” Nicolas coughed, cutting off his words. Both his hands were shaking now as he brought them to his throat. “What have you … done to me?” he choked out. His eyes grew wide as his body stiffened.

  Heather was mesmerized by the changes playing themselves out in his face. She froze, unable to move, while she watched the veins in his skin plump and rise then turn dark. His face and hands took on the look of road maps, the veins streaking across his skin like spidery blue-black ink lines.

  She let out a little yelp that echoed off the trees at the edge of the clearing when Nicolas’ legs buckled and he fell to the ground.

  He convulsed, his body jerking up, then it seemed all animation left him. He lay still in the tall grass.

  The night itself held its breath. The world became hushed. Heather bit her lip. Was he dead? It couldn’t be that easy. Could it? She had to see, to make sure. Heather inched her way to the still form of the vampire, her flowing skirt whispering against the grass as she moved. Cautiously, she approached Nicolas, her eyes searching for any sign of movement.

  He lay on his back, arms spread wide to his sides, one leg bent at the knee and tucked beneath the other. She moved closer, clasping her hands in front of her. His eyes were open but unseeing. His lips were drawn back, exposing the daggers of his fangs.

  Heather hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to move any closer.

  “You have to,” she said, talking herself into it. “If he’s not dead and you leave—then his body disappears…” It wouldn’t be good, she thought.

  Gathering the flowing skirt in her hands, Heather took a deep breath and stepped to within a foot of him. She was on full alert, her muscles tense and quivering with a rush of adrenaline. Ever so slowly, she bent at the waist and dipped her knees. She had to get a closer look. See if there was any spark left in the black abyss of his eyes.

  She searched his face, leaning as close as she dared.

  A vise clamped around her ankle.

  Heather screamed and tried to turn but his hand held her ankle fast in his grip. She fell, landing with an ‘oomph’ in the grass. Scrambling, she kicked at him, digging her hands into the grass to try to pull herself away.

  “I only wanted to … love again,” Nicolas croaked.

  “Let me go!” Heather planted a solid kick to his forearm. Horror filled her when she saw him jerkily try to rise.

  “I can’t,” his voice gurgled sickeningly, “live like this.” He began to drag her closer by her ankle.

  “Then DIE!” a strong male voice shouted.

  Heather’s heart leapt when she saw Colin running toward them. Holt followed close behind, his axe raised in the air.

  Amazingly, Nicolas released his hold on her ankle. Heather scooted away in a flurry of arms and legs, then as soon as she was clear, vaulted to her feet and ran for Colin. She threw her arms around him, almost knocking him off his feet. “Oh God, oh thank God,” she said, the words coming in a rush.

  Colin hugged her to himself for a moment, then turned and set her on her feet. “Wait here,” he said, then he turned back toward Nicolas. “Holt—stop!” he called out.

  Heather swung around to see what was happening.

  Nicolas stood swaying, his legs braced wide apart. His body looked broken, old.

  Holt stood some ten feet away from the vampire, axe at the ready—waiting.

  Colin walked purposely toward Nicolas.

  Heather watched as Colin reached behind his back and drew a vicious sharpened stake and mallet from his back pockets.

  “You picked the wrong family to mess with,” Colin ground out, his voice echoing menacingly.

  Nicolas let
out a wet-sounding laugh, then bent forward in a fit of coughing.

  Colin stopped a few feet from him.

  Heather felt herself moving toward them, drawn to the scene like a moth to a flame.

  Nicolas swiped a hand across his mouth, struggling to straighten. His hand came away slimed with thick blackish blood. “I do not,” he began, his words sounding strangled, “believe you have to worry about me much longer. She … she … has done something…”

  Colin looked back at Heather.

  “I gave him the shot.” Heather shrugged.

  Colin turned back to Nicolas. “I guarantee we won’t worry about you ever again.” He took a step, raising the stake and the mallet.

  Nicolas fell to one knee. “The others?”

  “In pieces,” Colin spat out.

  Nicolas turned his dimming gaze to Heather. “I only … wanted this to end. To … to feel love again.”

  For a brief moment, Heather felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. “You’ve destroyed so many,” she said. “Caused so much pain. You don’t deserve to exist.”

  “I loved once,” he said, following the last word with a gurgling cough. “Now I am the last.” He looked up at Colin. A quivering smile spread over his mouth. He spread his arms wide as if in welcome. “End my misery. Kill me.”

  “I’d be obliged to.” Colin stepped forward, Holt also moving in. Colin raised one foot and struck Nicolas solidly in the chest, knocking him onto his back. In a mere second, the stake was buried deep in Nicolas’ chest.

  Heather dropped to her knees, the adrenaline flooding out of her. Pure exhaustion made her muscles twitch, begging her to lie down and rest. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She sat back on her knees and watched with a strange detachment as Holt swung his axe, severing Nicolas’ head from his body.

  Colin bent, flicking a lighter.

  Nicolas’ clothes caught, flared, then he was engulfed in flames.

  Heather looked up, watching tiny sparks float from the burning body, rising toward the cold eye of the moon as they slowly died out. Her eyes were drawn back to the flames that danced gleefully over his body. A thick smoke began to rise and drift toward her. Thick and acrid, it invaded her lungs. Heather began to cough.