by Kallysten
The taste of blood in his mouth, his own blood, spilled by an unforgiving blow from Lilia's hand, put an abrupt end to his hope and he realized that if he didn't fight back, she would soon do exactly what Nathanael had told her to—kill him.
Reflexes took over and he reached for the stake in his jacket, his eyes never leaving her. He had seen that dancing flame in her eyes before, as well as the hunger reflected in her features. He had battled this Lilia repeatedly during the past seven years. It was the fighter who was determined to kill him, but wanted to do so after having had her fun. The vampire who had marked him as hers with the tip of a blade the first time they had met, digging into his cheek before laughing as she had promised to kill him another time.
She attacked again. Her hands were bare whereas he had a stake, but he was the one retreating under each of her blows, parrying without striking back, unable to raise a hand on her.
"Lilia, you're under a thrall,” he said urgently even as he was backing away from her. “You've got to shake it off and be yourself again."
She didn't reply and continued attacking. She feinted an attack on the right but shifted at the last second to her left, her foot catching Vincent's side where he had been evading.
"If you kill me you will die! Come on, Lilia. You've got to remember!"
There still wasn't any recognition in her eyes; it almost looked as though she wasn't hearing what he was saying. The thought came to Vincent that he might soon have to decide whether to let her kill him or kill her himself, but he refused to even consider it. She would shake off the thrall. He knew she would be able to. All he had to do was keep trying to reach to her, and stay out of her reach.
It was almost like a dance. Vincent retreated, always cautious not to get too close to the vampires standing in a rough circle around them, and Lilia advanced, occasionally jumping for his throat but always with that half second that allowed him to escape, attacking and hitting him but not hard enough to deliver a lethal blow.
Not a dance, Vincent realized suddenly. A game. The same game she had played with him so often before, keeping him alive just a little longer to have some more fun with him. It just was that much more obvious when he wasn't fighting back. And he wasn't the only one who had noticed.
"Enough, Lilia,” a strong voice chimed from somewhere behind her. “Stop playing and get to the kill. Now."
She didn't bat an eyelash before obeying, and this time when she attacked Vincent couldn't parry, couldn't evade, couldn't do anything, and before he knew what had happened he was flat on his back, Lilia descending on him, and her fangs were visible as she plunged toward his neck. And stopped inches from it when the stake Vincent was holding at her heart started pressing into her flesh.
Chapter 20
With Lilia poised over him, ready to bite and held back only by the stake pressed to her chest, Vincent was so conflicted that he had to close his eyes for a second and try to focus. He had hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't come down to this, but here they were, and the choice could wait no longer. He had feinted and dodged as long as he could in front of her, but now he couldn't run any longer, and judging by how still she was, she wasn't about to retreat either. Stalemate.
His first thought was to let her do it. It had been too long since he had been near her and it felt as though every cell of his body was crying out for her, for her touch, and if he couldn't have her any other way, her biting him would do. It was almost difficult to remember that it hadn't happened again since their Mating; he had offered his neck to her so many times in his dreams, how bad could it be to do it for real?
Opposing that thought, honed by eight years of fighting vampires, thousands of fights, and dozens of narrow escapes, instinct demanded that he stake her before it was too late. It wouldn't take much, only a slight push of his hand upward, the small resistance of fabric and flesh for a second before they tore away and the wood slipped in almost too easily. He had done it thousands of times since becoming a Special Enforcer; it would be just one more kill, one he had promised to himself seven years earlier over Peter's body. Just a slight push and it would be over. Over for her, but also, sooner rather than later, for him too.
With both options, his life was at stake, but only with the first could he give Lilia one last opportunity to come back to her senses and put an end to this nightmare. He owed her as much for the past weeks she had spent fighting by his side.
He inhaled deeply and then took a chance, and pulled the stake away, letting it rest harmlessly on his chest between them. She hesitated for a second but quickly lowered her mouth, plunging for his neck, and he took another, even bigger, chance. Tilting his head to one side, he brought his hand to the back of her head and his mouth up to her neck.
"Together,” he murmured, and made the silent wish that she would remember their Mating, remember that it was what she had said then just before they had marked each other, and that this memory, if nothing else, would break through the barrier of the thrall. And because he couldn't wait any longer, he finally said it. “I love you."
He knew he had failed, knew he was dead when she didn't slow, and instead, sank her fangs into his neck without waiting for him. He bit back, more a reflex now than a conscious act, his teeth digging in hard enough that he tasted blood on his tongue, and was brought back instantly to the night they had Mated.
He had been half erect all through their fight, as he had been so many times in the past when they had fought, simply because she looked breathtaking when she was entirely focused on something—on him. Now his cock was painfully hard and his hips jerked up and pressed against her in search of one last contact.
Whether it was the feel of him, the taste of his blood or the shock of being bitten, it seemed that Lilia remembered too; he felt her stop sucking, just like, months earlier, she had limited herself to a mouthful of his blood. She froze against him, becoming utterly still, and, trembling, he let go of her neck after placing a small kiss to the scar he had broken anew.
"That's it,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken by the tension. “You remember, don't you? Go ahead, Lilia, look at me. Tell me you remember. Please."
Her head shifted minutely until he could see her eyes, and the absolute confusion within them. He wanted to laugh at seeing the thrall broken at last, at seeing her on her way back to him, but he was afraid it would startle her.
"Vincent?” she uttered, the word uncertain, as though she weren't sure it was the right name.
He slid his hand through her hair to cup her cheek. “Yes, darling. It's me and it's going to be OK."
She blinked several times, and her eyes seemed to grow clear with each blink. “What happened?” she asked. “I don't..."
The sound of slow clapping interrupted her, and Vincent remembered suddenly they had company at the same time as Lilia discovered it. Caught up in the memory, he could almost have believed that they were back to being alone, back to their Mating night. Lower parts of his anatomy thankfully got the message too, and returned some much needed blood to his brain.
"Isn't this touching,” a sneering voice commented from behind them, and Lilia's eyes widened in horror as she scrambled off Vincent and to her feet. He stood too, stake ready in his hand again, and positioned himself between her and Nathanael who continued his little speech, unconcerned.
"Love triumphs over all and everything else that goes with it. Really, if it wasn't so trite, I would shed a tear."
The mocking in his voice sounded real, but all it took was a look to his face to realize that the vampire had not expected this particular turn of events and did not like the surprise. He was very badly concealing his rage.
"Looks to me like your little game failed,” Vincent shot back, and added with a smirk, “You might want to practice your thrall; it seems to be a bit weak."
He felt almost lightheaded at seeing Lilia back to herself when earlier she had been so close to killing him. Everything would be fine, now. He had the feeling he could have taken all the vampires in t
he world by himself.
"The goal was to get you killed,” Nathanael shrugged. “I'm not very picky about who does it or how, as long as you end up dead and stop messing with my affairs."
With a snap of his fingers, some of the vampires who had only been watching so far stepped forward, fangs bared and gleaming. The effect was the same as a cold shower on Vincent's hopes.
Everything would be fine, and he could have taken all the vampires in the world. Before that, though, he would need to deal with the circle of unfriendly vamps surrounding him and Lilia.
* * * *
Lilia could have moaned in pleasure when her fangs sank into the human's flesh, and if she heard his words, she didn't pause to think of what they meant. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a real meal, one that hadn't left her craving for more; and she was going to savor this one to the last drop, killing him as her Sire had told her to. Maybe, then, her Sire wouldn't be so upset with her anymore; maybe he would even tell her what she had done to upset him. It was so generous and kind of him to give her a chance to prove herself worthy of him by killing one of his worst enemies. She would have to remember to thank him properly. She hoped she would remember; it was so often hard to think at all lately.
The taste of blood, when it hit her tongue, stirred something in her, a memory at the edge of her consciousness, something that would elude her if she tried to reach for it, but that would come toward her if she only let it. She didn't have time to decide which she would do, because the human bit her—a human! Biting her!—and a barrier broke in her head, letting her memories, feelings and thoughts flow free.
Letting her be free.
Everything flooded her mind in a terribly confusing mess, and she froze, unsure of where she was and what she was doing. Then a voice broke through the haze. His voice.
"That's it. You remember, don't you? Go ahead, Lilia, look at me. Tell me you remember. Please."
She could feel him, now, feel his body against her, hard and hot and so familiar she wanted to curl against him until the world became a hospitable place again. But she obeyed his request and turned her face to look at him, and as she did some pieces of the puzzle that was her memory fell into place.
"Vincent?"
Was that his name? She could remember calling him something else, maybe she was wrong and...
The touch against her cheek, as gentle as his words, calmed her rising doubts. “Yes, darling. It's me and it's going to be OK."
The fog was slowly rising and clearing her mind and thoughts, but she still couldn't figure out what was going on. Images and disembodied words kept flashing through her mind in no particular order, giving her a bad feeling about what was going on but nothing precise enough for her to understand. “What happened? I don't..."
Slow clapping sounded behind her, and Lilia frowned in confusion. When the voice rose however, the fog lifted from her mind and in an instant, she was up and ready to defend herself despite the pain that flared through her body; ready to defend Vincent, too, although he remained oblivious to her resolve and stepped in front of her as though to protect her. Didn't he know whom they were facing?
"Isn't this touching. Love triumphs over all and everything else that goes with it. Really, if it wasn't so trite, I would shed a tear."
His sarcasm barely hid Nathanael's anger, and Lilia was scrambling through her still slightly blurry mind for an answer, something that would appease him, give her and Vincent a chance, maybe, to survive the night. But before she could say a word, Vincent spoke, and she soon wanted little more than to kick him. Hard.
"Looks to me like your little game failed. You might want to practice your thrall; it seems to be a bit weak."
Lilia had heard Vincent mouth off often enough in the past when he fought vampires—he had done it when he had fought against her—but she winced at his words. It was one thing to taunt a vampire you were battling one on one. Quite another to piss off a Master who currently had fifteen minions waiting for the order to attack.
Surprisingly, Nathanael's anger didn't appear to grow at Vincent's comment; he practically shrugged it off. His words however belied his casual tone.
"The goal was to get you killed. I'm not very picky about who does it or how, as long as you end up dead and stop messing with my affairs."
A snap of his fingers gave the minions the signal they had been waiting for. Immediately, the circle broke and vampires stepped forward, most of whom she knew; but before the fight could begin, a rough hand clasped her waist and Vincent pulled her to him.
"Be careful,” he said as he pressed a stake into her hand and a quick kiss to her lips.
The next second, they were fighting three adversaries each and separated by a few feet; and Lilia was left ranting at him in her head when she became too busy to be able to do it aloud.
Be careful? I'm not the one pissing off Nathanael right before a fight! What was that about, Jordan? Feeling invincible suddenly? Trying to prove you belong to the big boys club? I am so going to kick your ass when this is over. If we're both still alive.
Her internal rant took on a gloomy tone when realization slowly dawned on her that the fight wasn't going as well as it should have.
The three vampires who had come forward to fight her were attacking relentlessly, with fists, feet and stakes, and she pushed back after each attack. She was struggling to defend herself and not get herself killed, and never getting anywhere close to being able to strike at her adversaries. Granted, one of them was Alexei who had far more experience, training and skills at fighting than the minions, but she had always been better than him, always beaten him when they sparred, and now he was practically playing with her, like a cat playing with a mouse.
It wouldn't have been so bad if not for her back. It was nothing but pain, and it seemed that the throbbing she hadn't felt while under the thrall had been freed now. She tried to ignore it, but it was far from easy when with every movement she made she could feel a cut open again and begin to soak the back of her shirt with blood. Added to that, the tiredness from having fought with Vincent was combining with the fatigue of having been under a thrall; even if she hadn't broken free until exchanging blood with her Mate had dissolved the hold Nathanael had on her, she had struggled against it all along, and it had weakened her, body and spirit.
She wouldn't hold long, she realized. If a miracle didn't happen soon, she was going to get herself staked. And condemn Vincent to death at the same time.
The thing was, she had long ago realized that miracles didn't happen to help vampires.
* * * *
"OK, Vince, I know you asked me to stay out of it, but I don't think I have much of a choice here. You can yell at me if we all survive this."
There was no answer to Don's remark; he was too far from the action, almost directly across the pond from it, for anyone to have even heard him. However, he wasn't too far to distinguish, with the help of the full moon's light, between the shadowy figures battling a couple hundred yards away. Two of these, he had to try not to hurt. The others were fair game. He only wished he had had the occasion to practice his fire-throwing trick more often.
He had hesitated until now about intervening, because he had recognized Lilia as Vincent's adversary and killing her would have been the same as killing him. But something had happened, and now she was no longer fighting against him, but with him. And they looked like they really could use some help with so many vampires around them.
He started with one of the minions standing on the side, waiting for its turn to jump into the fight. A few murmured words, and a ball of fire was flying toward the oblivious vampire, striking him in the back; within seconds, it was dust. Ducking his head to completely disappear behind the large rock that protected him, Don slowly refocused his strength before peeking out again and choosing another target.
He didn't dare shoot directly at the vampires that were in a hand-to-hand fight with Vincent and Lilia, they moved too much for him to take the risk of s
triking the wrong target, but he could at least thin the herd of those waiting to take a shot at them. He wished he could have taken a shot a Nathanael—or at least, the vampire he thought was Nathanael—but he stood on the other side of the fights, and by trying to strike him Don might have hurt Lilia or Vincent. Still, the less they had to fight, the more chances they had to come out of it alive—or undead, in Lilia's case. And Don really needed Vincent alive. If nothing else, there was just no other person he could imagine standing by him as his best man on his wedding day.
Chapter 21
Vincent knew, roughly, how many vampires were around him and Lilia, but he forced himself not to think about it, even more importantly not to keep a tally. If he did, he might freeze; but as long as he ignored how many more were left to stake, he could do it. One vamp at a time, as he did every night, as he had done for years. No need to worry how many of them were left, no reason to think that the fangs they bared at him would tear his flesh, no way he would start fearing the fire in their eyes. Now if they would only continue not to attack all at once, it would suit him quite well. As it was, three was already bordering on too many.
His courage returned with a brilliant flash of light, a small ball of fire that had lit up a sidelined vamp like a roman candle and turned it to ash in seconds. The others looked around, searching for the source, but apparently could not find anything as another vamp went up into flames only a couple of minutes later. That was two for Don, since it was undoubtedly his magical fire, to Vincent's one kill so far. As for Lilia...
He stole glances at her whenever he could throughout his fight. With three adversaries of her own, she was fighting hard, or at least defending herself, but she wasn't at the top of her game. While the other vamps struck without reserve and made contact—there was blood trickling from the corner of her mouth and from a cut on her cheek—she seemed slower than usual when she evaded a blow, clumsier when she tried to strike in return. She had been fighting a lot better against him minutes earlier. He wondered briefly if her mind was still a mess after being under thrall, then caught a glimpse of her back as she spun around. The sight froze him where he stood. Her shirt was sticking to her back, turned almost black by blood.