The Prophecy

by Nina Croft

  Her eyes flickered to his face. So he knew what she was. But of course he did. He knew her father, after all

  “Last night.” She swallowed down her revulsion at the memory, but he must have seen something in her expression. He looked at her closely, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

  “The man in the hall?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “Once a month they take me from here to the hall, and I feed.” She shook her head, she didn’t know why but she felt an overwhelming urge to explain herself. “I have no choice, I’m weak and the blood-thirst is too strong. I never take much, just enough to stop the craving.” She took a deep breath. “Once they brought a child. I couldn’t, I refused then. They killed her anyway.” She closed her eyes briefly at the memory of that death. “I tried to end my life, but they found me and ever since I’ve been kept like this.” She raised her arm, rattling the heavy chain. “The next time they took me I fed.” She finished. She didn’t want to look at him and see the revulsion that must be in his face.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. He closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. When he opened them he appeared to have come to a decision. He reached behind him and drew a blade.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You need more blood, you have to feed.”

  He drew the knife across his wrist. Raven watched in fascination, breathing in the rich scent of fresh blood, sweet and heavy. She felt her own blood quicken in response. She licked her lips and saw him watch the movement. Then he slowly extended his arm toward her.

  She ran her tongue across her sharp canines, felt the prickle in her gums as her fangs elongated. She couldn’t believe this was happening. That he should offer his blood to her. She knew she should be wary of him, but couldn’t resist. It was richer than anything she had ever tasted, and she realised then that he wasn’t human, for magic coursed through his blood. She fed, the strength flowed through her and she sighed against his skin.

  Kael gazed down at the dark head locked against his arm and felt the same twist in his guts as when he had first seen her. He hadn’t meant to do this; his kind had always found the vampires’ kiss too seductive. That first lick of her small catlike tongue had sent shivers spiraling down his spine. The mouth at his wrist tugged at places deep within his body. He felt the heat coiling low in his belly and his cock hardened inside his jeans. He shifted and she glanced up from her concentration and caught him in the gaze of those strange eyes. She continued to feed as she watched him, and he saw that she was healing as she fed. The bruises were fading from her skin, leaving it white and perfect as new-fallen snow. His head fell back and he knew he needed to stop her.

  But for a moment longer he allowed himself to enjoy the sensations coursing through his body. Allowed himself to think, at last, of what he had come here to do. His body hardened further at the thought and he closed his eyes and savored the feeling.

  Would she co-operate? It had to be done, and he would prefer it to be by her consent. Rape had never held any appeal to him, and, if he were truthful, he didn’t want to add further to her suffering. But he had thought it through carefully, considered every option. This was the only way he could be sure that once she was out of here The Council would not call for her sacrifice.

  Now he realized something he hadn’t expected. He wanted her, quite desperately, and the notion seemed somehow wrong, as though he should have no thought of taking pleasure from such an act.

  He was no celibate. He took human women when the need was on him, but he never formed relationships, never allowed himself to get close. But he knew that where Raven was concerned it was already too late. He stared down at her, studying her, trying to decide what made her different. She was beautiful, strange and exotic, but there was something more. She stirred something inside him that he’d believed had died long ago with his people.

  He was starting to feel lightheaded, and just when he thought he would have to pull her off, she released him. She stroked her velvet tongue once over the already healing cut, then she sighed. Her head fell back and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she dragged the air into her lungs. She no longer appeared gaunt and her pale skin shone with the luster of pearls. The marks were gone from her breast and the nipples stood out hard and swollen. When he breathed in he could scent her arousal and his body responded to that scent, so he had to force himself to stand up and back away.

  Raven felt as though she was going to explode with the power. She could feel it throbbing inside as though she had the force to overcome anything. The meager amounts of human blood she had taken in the past had never tasted this good, had never made her feel like this. What was he?

  She felt heavy, languorous, her nipples tight, her sex soft and swollen, her skin so sensitive that the minutest movements of the chill air sent frissons of sensation rippling through her.

  She glanced up. Kael was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his body. He was watching her closely. There was a sleepy, almost sated expression on his face as though it was he who had fed, not her. His eyes moved leisurely over her body and she glanced down. The scars and bruising had vanished, leaving her skin clear, smooth; her breasts appeared fuller, the nipples dark red against the whiteness of her skin.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Her eyes flew back to his face and she nodded. “Your blood tastes different, feels different.”

  He smiled. “I am different. You’ve only ever drunk human blood.” He looked at her sharply. “Unless you fed from the fire-demons?”

  Raven shuddered in revulsion. “They tried to make me feed from them. It made me sick, in the end they had to stop. That was when they started to bring the humans.”

  She felt different and realised it was the absence of pain and hunger. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the feeling. When she opened them again he was still watching her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  She stared at him, wanting to ask a question but scared of the answer. He was so big, so strong-looking, she found it hard to believe that she could cause him pain, but she needed to know.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  He smiled then. “It felt good.”

  “Good?”

  “My people have always avoided the kiss of the vampire. We find it addictive. Now I know why.”

  “Your people? What are you? Your blood tastes of magic.”

  Kael shrugged. “My people are gone. I am all that’s left. I am a shape-shifter.”

  “Like a werewolf?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Werewolves start out as human, they’re infected by the bite of another wolf. We are one of the immortal races and are born into our powers.”

  “But you can change?”

  “Into any living organism.”

  “Before you came I heard the sound of wings.”

  “I entered the cell as a moth.”

  Raven stared at him, trying to imagine something so huge turning into something so small. It seemed impossible and she smiled. The smile felt strange, like some long-forgotten skill. She raised her hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. The chains clanked, and she remembered she was still a prisoner. She didn’t really know this man, what he wanted from her. He said he was here to release her but she was still in chains. She looked at him.

  “Can you release me?”

  “Yes.”

  She saw something flicker behind his eyes and desolation swamped her. She had lived through enough of Sorien’s games to learn that to hope was to despair. Whatever this man spoke of freeing her, aiding her, she knew there was a price she would have to pay, and suddenly she was angry. It felt good.

  “Will you release me?” she asked.

  “Not just yet.”

  Chapter Three

  “Why?” Raven whispered.

  He didn’t reply immediately. Instead he pushed himself from the wall and paced the confines of the cel
l, like a caged animal. Finally, he came to a halt in front of her, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, and answered her question with one of his own. “What do you know of the prophecy, Raven?”

  “Everything.” He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “My father told me that my mother’s sisters brought me to The Council when I was a baby. They told them that a prophecy had been made at the time of my birth. A prophecy foretelling the future. They said that if either The Council, or the fire-demons, were to sacrifice me on my twenty-first birthday, then that side would win a great victory over their enemies.”

  “Do you know the actual words?”

  “Yes, my father taught me.” She closed her eyes and began to recite. “‘That whosoever shall spill the blood of the virgin…’” She paused. Opened her eyes and stared at him. “Oh.”

  She’d never really thought about the significance of that word before, except to be thankful that she would at least be saved the horror of rape at Sorien’s hands. Now it suddenly occurred to her where he was going with this.

  He took a step closer. “Raven, you don’t have to die. There is another way.” He reached out and stroked one finger down her cheek.

  Her skin tingled where he touched, and she swallowed, forcing herself not to flinch. “What way is that?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer but wanted to be absolutely sure before she made a complete fool of herself.

  A faint flicker of amusement flashed across his features, but he answered the question. “Once you have lain with a man the prophecy cannot come to pass.”

  She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. She wanted to object. Or did she? She forced her eyes to linger on the long length of him and felt a queer twist in her insides. She couldn’t deny that he held a strange, unexpected attraction for her, something she had never expected to feel.

  She remembered her first vision of Kael. Her father had told that her mother had the sight, warned her that it might pass to her, and she’d known she was seeing her future. She’d been fourteen at the time and only hours from being taken by the fire-demons. Less than a year later the blood-thirst had come upon her and she had been locked in the darkness. After that, Kael had come to her often, in dreams and visions, reminding her of the sun she would never see again.

  She had felt drawn to him from the first, but as she had grown, matured, those feeling had changed until she had come to want him as a woman. She could now still feel the pull of erotic heat from the feeding. But she also couldn’t forget that he was from The Council. She had no reason to trust anyone from The Council. And every reason not to.

  “You have to understand,” Kael said when she remained silent, “there are still those among us who believe we are fools not to take advantage of the prophecy, not to make the sacrifice ourselves. This is the only way to guarantee your safety once you’re out of here. If you want to live, you cannot leave this castle a virgin.”

  A shiver ran through her at his words. He was right, she knew it, but while she was ready to acknowledge that she felt the pull of desire, she was not sure she was ready to allow anybody that closeness. When she closed her eyes she could see again the fates of the humans brought here so she could feed. Raped, tortured and abused by Sorien and his men, their bodies torn apart for their pleasure. Kael must have seen the revulsion reflected in her face because his voice was harsh when he spoke again.

  “Would you rather the prophecy came to pass, that Sorien gains supremacy over the human race for a thousand years?”

  The words broke into her contemplation. She stared up at him, not attempting to hide her disdain. What did he know? A warrior? He had probably never faced defeat, despair. This was just one more thing over which she had no control. And he was so arrogant; he no doubt presumed that she would jump at the opportunity to lie with him.

  No, she did not want Sorien to win. And if she was dead then that wasn’t going to happen. But would she really prefer to die than to lie with him?

  She forced herself to really think about escaping from this place, being reunited with her father, and a tremor of apprehension ran through her. What would her father think of the monster she had become? He had always told her that a vampire didn’t have to kill, that she should never feed on the blood of the unwilling. How could she ever face him with the blood of innocents on her hands? Have him look at her with revulsion? She smoothed her features into blankness.

  “I’d rather you killed me.”

  Kael couldn’t believe the stab of pain that wrenched through him at her words. She would prefer death to lying with him. He stared at her and slowly took in the tenseness of her muscles. Strain showed in every line of her body as she held herself rigid. Her posture reminded him of how she had stood before Sorien, how she had taunted him, tempted him to kill her. What had life shown her that she should choose to live? What could she know of love?

  The thought brought him up short. Love? His people had always found love within their own kind, and when they had been wiped out by the fire-demons he had put aside all thoughts of ever finding a true mate. Now he looked at Raven and felt again that curious stirring in his heart. She was meant to be his.

  But he owed her. If he’d offered her the protection of The Council all those years ago, rather than a sentence of death, then she might never have been taken by the fire-demons. And, if the life she had led now made her crave the peace of death, could he deny her that? His mind went back to his sister. She had spent a year imprisoned by the fire-demons, and she had begged for death. Could he do less for Raven?

  “Do you really want to die?” He had to force the words out.

  “I’ve longed for death many times.”

  “I won’t kill you.”

  She sneered. “Will you rape me instead then?”

  He turned from her, his fists clenched. He didn’t know what to do. He had seen her fear, her pain. But he couldn’t just kill her, couldn’t just put her out of her misery like a damaged dog. His whole being fought against it.

  He forced himself to concentrate; there was something else here. Raven was a fighter, he’d seen that. She wasn’t afraid of pain. So why was she so willing to die? He took a deep breath and turned back to her.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Allow me to do what I must. Don’t fight me and afterwards, if you still wish to die, I will see to it that you get your desire.”

  She hesitated and he felt the anger rise in him.

  “Raven, I promise you, however distasteful you find my taking of your body, it will cause you no pain.” He took a deep, calming breath. He knew there was something between them, some bond. Instinct told him that what they would have together would be special, magical. He needed the chance to show Raven that, to prove to her that life was worth living. “Come,” he cajoled, “you have known only darkness and pain for so long, let me show you a little of the pleasures of life, and afterwards, if you still desire to die, then the decision is yours.”

  Raven looked at him, tried to imagine what it would be like, his hands on her body. More than just his hands, and she felt a queer unexpected jolt of heat in her belly. Could she do it knowing that at the end he would grant her the peace she craved?

  His lips formed a grim line. He drew the knife from the sheath at his thigh. It was a wicked-looking blade and she felt a flicker of unease. Was she afraid after all? One thing she did know, she didn’t want to die on her knees. She struggled to her feet, clumsy in the chains. He didn’t help, just watched through narrowed eyes. He took a step closer. There was nowhere she could go; she could already feel the rough stone cold against her back. She watched, mesmerised as he reached out slowly and touched the point of the dagger to her belly. The metal was cold and she glanced down. It pressed lightly against her flesh, one quick thrust and it would pierce her. But he knew what she was; he must know he couldn’t kill her like this. Did he mean to torture her first? She closed her eyes. But instead of the expected sharp stab of pain, she felt the tip of the knife glide over
her flesh. It slid up over the flat plain of her stomach, leaving a trail of fire, over the swell of her breast, pausing briefly to tease the sensitive peak. She felt the heat flare again in her belly and shivered at the sensation. She raised her head as the knife continued upwards, coming to rest at the base of her throat. The tip pierced her skin and her eyes flew open.

  “Do you really want death so much?” he asked softly

  She stared into his eyes. They were deep-blue, cold, showing no emotion. “I don’t fear death,” she said.

  His face twisted into an expression of scorn. “No, it’s life you fear.”

  Her anger rose at his words. She pressed against the point of the blade, felt it sink deeper. He pulled back and she felt a flicker of satisfaction. “What I fear is being the instrument of my enemy’s ultimate victory.” But even as she spoke she wondered at his words. She had accepted death, could she now accept a chance at life? Could she somehow learn to live with what she had become?

  “Well, then,” he said, “yield to me and the prophecy will never come to pass.” He paused. “Come on Raven,” he coaxed, “wouldn’t you like to live to see Sorien meet that messy end?”

  “I told you, I made that up.”

  He smiled then, a cold, cruel smile. “I could make it happen for you.”

  She considered him for a moment. “Why do you care?”

  “I let you down once before when I demanded your death. I won’t do it a second time. Besides…” he paused.

  “Besides?”

  He didn’t answer straight away. Instead his gaze wandered down over her body. His eyes, when they returned to her face were sleepy, heavy-lidded. A slight smile curled the corner of his mouth.

  “Besides,” he murmured, and his voice had lowered, soft, like velvet caressing her sensitive ears. “I find I want you.”

  Raven stared at him. It was the last thing she had expected to hear and she was speechless.

  His smile faded. “I didn’t expect to,” he continued, almost speaking to himself. “Nor desired to. But since you latched those pretty fangs into my flesh and sucked my blood, I’ve been as hard as a rock. You expect me to kill you and all I can think about is sinking myself into your body.”