Intervamption

by Kristin Miller

  His strength was in Dylan.

  Even though his body was hollow and trembling, he didn’t stop pulling on her luscious vein. Couldn’t stop, even after he’d collapsed on top of her. It was as if some previously unknown primal need had taken complete control of his body.

  He knew Dylan wasn’t experiencing any pain. Could hear her whimpers of pleasure escaping with each heavy draw.

  It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The tingling sensation of his orgasm carried through his whole body, illuminating his core with a fire that flamed with every tug of his fangs on her skin. He wondered if the fire came to life for her too.

  His arms still cradling her tight, he sucked for what seemed like an eternity. Until a dizzy spell knocked him off-kilter. It was like getting hit with a sledgehammer. Like hitting a brick wall at a dead sprint.

  When his eyes gained focus and locked on Dylan’s angelic face, he realized something was wrong. She was unmoving. Eyes closed. Face pale as a porcelain doll. Drained of all life.

  He pushed off her and held her chin in his hands. “Dylan? Dylan, are you all right? Talk to me, baby.”

  As her head went limp in his hand and her heavenly blue eyes rolled back, not a single drop of blood flowed from the punctures on her neck. It was then Slade realized he’d completely drained her to the brink of death.

  If he didn’t already have a one-way ticket to hell, his soul was taking flight now.

  Killing angels surely earned you that trip.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Bloodlust can be earth-shattering and love greater still.”

  —Vladimir, philosopher

  Dylan felt the world slipping away from her the moment Slade latched onto her throat. At first she’d gratefully let reality slip through her fingers, giving herself freely to Slade’s hunger for her body and thirst for her blood.

  But then something changed. Stakes were raised. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the soul-shattering sex shifted into something more, something out of this world. She imagined it was somewhere between the heart-stopping orgasms and utter mind shutdown. All she knew was somehow she’d ended up lying face up on what felt like a feather mattress, limbs weighing less than air and eyes that couldn’t grasp onto images in the room with any hint of clarity.

  She thought she heard Slade’s voice. Thought she felt his touch. Both were a soft breeze ghosting along her skin, whisking her to a place that seemed neither real nor dream.

  In an instant her spirit was sucked down into a violent whirlpool that spun round and round, faster and faster. Disorientation set in until she didn’t know which was up, out, upside or around. It was then that she spotted a pinprick of white light near the bottom of the blacked-out concave.

  As tiny as the speck of light was, its illumination was brilliant. Pure. Harmless. And it called her closer. As soothing a beckon as a Slade’s backstroke across her cheek. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried into its promising warmth.

  “Welcome,” a calm voice called through the light. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

  Dylan turned toward the voice. Searched through a swirling fog of emotions and distant memories—toward the place so soothing, so familiar, yet so distant. The light ballooned into an all-encompassing mist that floated over the ground, soaked into her skin, stifling her movement.

  Hello? Dylan spoke the word in her mind. It was loud. Maybe a little fearful. Anticipatory without a doubt.

  In reality not a sound was spoken.

  She stared deeper into the mist, trying to distinguish this fuzzy dream world from reality. She’d had dreams where she lost her ability to speak before. Nightmares filled with demons or evil beings chasing her down back alleys weren’t foreign to her sleep-filled nights. She’d eventually give in, though she never knew why—throw her arms up and scream for help to come dropping from the sky and rescue her.

  Only no sound ever came with those cries, either.

  Was this endless mist and voice without a form a figment of her dreams then?

  “Did they catch you?” the feminine voice asked. “In your dreams . . . did you ever get to see them catch you?”

  No. Dylan’s response was automatic and although she couldn’t see the person asking her the question, she knew her answer had been received. This was insane, she thought. If she was dreaming, where was Slade? Certainly he’d be by her side. . . .

  Searching through the light with fevered determination, Dylan finally spotted a form in black. A tall, slender figure in a sweeping black gown . . . or was that mist flowing over the ground, reaching its cool fingers up her body? God, she couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, the figure was striking and demanded attention.

  Who are you? Dylan asked, fully aware this creature was reading her mind. Am I dreaming?

  “Silly girl, you’ve crossed to the other side.” It was stated with such matter-of-factness, it chilled Dylan’s core.

  The figure extended a perfectly smooth hand to Dylan’s. Before she knew what she was doing, Dylan reached up and grazed her fingers along the being’s skin. It was smoother than silk and looked like she’d never been outside a day in her life. Perfection to the utmost degree. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dylan. And you’ve made me wait a long time. So long I wasn’t sure this day would come.”

  This surely didn’t feel like a dream, where details were frequently skimmed over and the real world was only an arm-pinch away. This felt concrete and comfortable, like coming home after a long and exhausting trip.

  To Dylan’s own disbelief, the idea that this place could be the Ever After didn’t scare her in the slightest. No panic set in. Anxiety didn’t strike her nerves. In fact, it was just the opposite. Holding hands with this being in the mist of the Ever After made Dylan feel . . . strong. As though she had the inner strength and physical prowess to defeat the Devil himself.

  You’ve been waiting for me? Why? Wait . . . am I, uh . . . dead? Is this it?

  The beautiful being sighed. Dark mist floated up with her shoulders, then fell back into place when she exhaled. “You do ask too many questions, though it’s in your nature, I suppose. Yes, I’ve waited for you. Seeing you standing beside the Chosen One centuries ahead of time is not the same as having you standing in front of me on the edge of your grand precipice. And no, you’re not dead. The why will take more explaining. Walk with me.”

  She released Dylan’s hand, leaving her feeling hollow and weak, like her footing somehow slipped back into the murky whirlpool. Not having any other option, and not quite sure what she’d choose if she did, Dylan followed the figure further into the white mist. It occurred to Dylan they were strolling along a marbled path when she nearly tripped on a dislodged rock. She caught herself a breath before her face met the gravel.

  God, she was such a klutz. Here she was in the presence of a being who floated over the earth like rollers were hidden beneath her gown. Yet Dylan couldn’t get her feet underneath her, even in the afterlife.

  Whoever said everyone was perfect in the eyes of the Lord was full of crap.

  “Ah, but you know nothing about the Ever After,” the being said. “One’s perfection lies in how the assigned task is completed in the time specified. It has nothing to do with the moving of feet, though Fred Astaire was perfection on the dance floor, was he not?”

  Shit. She forgot this thing could read minds.

  “I’d appreciate you putting a nix on the name-calling. We’re all beings—humans, therians, vampires alike—so that’s far from a specific enough title for us. And thing is simply rude. Next you’ll be numbering us as Dr. Seuss’s Thing 1 and Thing 2. That’s hardly acceptable.” Her gown rustled around her legs on a rogue breeze.

  The mist circling them intensified, creating a thick curtain of white. Like a massive blizzard was upon them. Minus the cold, thank God. Dylan got the distinct impression that everything in this place revolved around this being’s thoughts and emotions. If she was unhappy . . . well, Dylan would be willing to bet
there’d be a storm brewing.

  I’m sorry, Dylan mouthed. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just I don’t know exactly what you are.

  “We’re named many things in many different cultures, none of them better than the other. Angels. Oracles. Elders. Goddesses. Prophets. Take your pick.”

  Dylan bit her lip, uncertain how she’d tread from here. She tried to make out distinct features of the Angel’s face, but was met with soft planes and a blurred, luminescent glow radiating from her skin. If I’m not dead, why am I here?

  “There’s only so much you’re allowed to know and each bit of information has its own place and purpose. What’s written cannot be ignored. There is a time and space for knowing, and most of that does not happen now. However, this is the time for enlightenment, and that does render you some good fortune.”

  Enlightenment?

  “Yes, dear. What did you think would happen when you let a royal drain you of your blood?”

  Air whooshed through Dylan’s ears, creating the sensation that she was running very fast through a tunnel. Royal? Slade? Drained of blood? Oh, God. She had to sit down or she’d be sick for sure.

  “There.” The Angel pointed to a white-picket gazebo not ten steps away. How Dylan missed it, she didn’t know. Beautiful lilies and orchids bloomed around the base, creating the illusion that the seating area popped out of the ground with the Spring.

  When Dylan was seated next to the angel, she stole a good hard look at her. Strands of crow-black hair glowed like they were coated in liquid onyx. Pearly white fangs shone between her lips. Long, graceful fangs that appeared to be more for aesthetic reasons than for pain or pleasure. Dylan had the peculiar sensation she’d met this being before, though she couldn’t place where . . . or when.

  Why can’t I talk? Dylan asked, diverting her eyes when the Angel’s penetrating gaze set upon her.

  “What would be the purpose in that? I can hear you fine this way. Unnecessary noise is bothersome, don’t you think?”

  Dylan nodded slowly, remembering all the times she’d asked Ruan to press the kill switch on the television at ReVamp. She could always work better in peace and quiet. No distractions. Perhaps Angels got distracted by high frequencies too.

  Now what had she said about enlightenment?

  “Ask your question,” she whispered, her voice a soft melody on the breeze. “The one you want answered most.”

  Did she mean what she’d just mentioned about Slade being royalty or about ReVamp and the war between therians and vampires and how it would end? She wondered if the angel would answer both.

  “If you don’t know which of those is most important to your journey, you are more lost than I thought.” She clasped her hands in her lap and stared forward into the mist. Like she was standing in front of a priceless work of art at the Guggenheim, admiring its beauty with revered awe. “Ask what’s in your heart. It won’t lead you astray.”

  Wait . . . who’d said those exact words before? For the life of her she couldn’t remember. Her brain was a cloud, as thick and oppressing as the mist surrounding the gazebo. Desperate to get the answer to both of her questions, Dylan decided to get crafty.

  If I’m drained . . . Dylan waited for acknowledgement before continuing.

  “Yes.”

  And this is my time to be enlightened . . .

  “Right.”

  Then that means that Slade has to be a royal . . . only royalty can truly experience both the power and enlightenment graced by the Valcdana. . . .

  Silence.

  Shit. She couldn’t catch a break. So she asked what was nagging at her middle.

  How is it possible that Slade is a royal? Do you mean he’s a royal therian? That therians are capable of going through the Valcdana as vampires are?

  “He is a royal. He is my son. And the product of a powerful therian Sheik who gave his life so Slade could live.” As the angel continued, Dylan forced her mind to wrap around what had just been said. “But this isn’t about Slade. His path will be revealed to him when the heavens deem it so. This is about you, even if you don’t want to hear what’s coming.”

  Wait. Go back. Slade’s your son? His blood is a vampire-therian mix? No, that’s not possible. His body wouldn’t be able to perform basic functions . . . our genetic codes are completely different. Slade was . . . different now . . . from when she first met him. Since he had his first taste of blood his appearance had changed ever-so-slightly. Ruan had remarked on the subtle difference in the color of his eyes, changing from red to his mesmerizing black. Dylan had noticed the change in his build and facial features right away. Was he slowly morphing into a permanent vampire form now that’d he had the hunger for blood? She was suddenly afraid to ask: What does that make him? What will happen when I feed from him when this is over and he gains the power from the completion of the ceremony?

  The angel met her gaze with piercing black orbs. “Why must everything be starkly black and white to you? There are many shades of gray just as deserving of beauty as the light and dark.” She chuckled, a soft lilt on the breeze. “Even if you could see beyond your scope, the answers you seek are not for you.”

  The hell they aren’t! This is my time to be enlightened. So enlighten me. Tell me what he’s become! What will happen to him? His body can’t possibly support both sides much—

  “You should be more concerned with what’s going to happen to you as the one who’ll walk beside him.”

  I already know what’s going to happen to me. After this is over, I’m going report back to my khiss, disobey a direct order from my Primus to go through the Valcdana with Erock, and confess that I’ve already completed the ceremony with some sort of vampire-therian hybrid. They’ll shut down ReVamp. Therians will crawl down our necks, maybe shut down our khiss completely. If I’m lucky, they’ll lock me away forever. At least that would be better than a swift stake and meeting with the sun. My path may be no surprise but I’m sure as hell going to do everything in my power to change it.

  “That’s if you survive tonight.” The angel smiled, a wicked gleam tainting her eye. “The Valcdana is designed to teach life’s true and tested virtues to worthy individuals. Love and self-sacrifice. Strength and valor. Honesty and honor. Only couples who are willing to hold those strong for the other will survive the process. When doubt and hesitation reside in the heart, weakness roots, and that will destroy you both. You must remain the solid pedestal for him to become the legend that is destined. In doing so you must give up what you desire most . . . without hesitation.”

  Give up what?

  “Your life for his. When it is time, you will know how to act.” She spoke nonchalantly, like Dylan’s spirit was of little consequence in the grand scheme.

  I’m going to die for Slade? Even though Dylan’s heart should’ve been pounding a mile a minute, she felt her breathing slow, her spirit weaken. The pull back to her body was starting. Will you please stop being so enigmatic and tell me what happens so I know exactly what to do when the time comes. I don’t want to make a mess of everything and I feel that I don’t have much time left. Please.

  “You already know too much. If you cannot be prepared with the information I have already given you, then perhaps you do not exhibit the virtues I previously thought. There is a price to pay for being enlightened, Dylan. David knew that well.”

  David killed himself because he was misinformed. All he had to do was tell me that Eve was the stable blood source we were looking for, and I could’ve offered her the proper protection. I could’ve stopped him from making the biggest sacrifice of all. If Meridian hadn’t told him—

  “I told him what was necessary for him to know at the time.”

  You told him? Dylan’s stomach dropped to her feet. She swallowed the knot in her throat and took another look at the Angel sitting stoically beside her. The staggering beauty of the Angel did not match the kooky Elder image Meridian portrayed. Meridian?

  “I am called by many mundane names, Meridi
an being one of them.”

  What’s with all the . . . she tread delicately now that she knew the truth . . . cats?

  “We’re targeted, Dylan. Most of us are in hiding by distant locations or far-fetched form-concealers and only resurface when called upon by upstanding members of the races. I’ll return to hiding as well once I see you both through the Valcdana.”

  And you’re helping us because Slade is your son. . . .

  “No. I’m helping you because you hold the key to his salvation and the salvation of our race. You always have. I’m here to help you realize it.”

  Intense blasts of pain whiplashed Dylan’s body against the wood forms of the gazebo. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth through the fire erupting in her chest. Then just like that, she felt her ribs deflate as if the flames burned right through her lungs. A warm tingling spread through her body, down to her toes, up to her head, making her dizzy.

  Oh, God . . . she couldn’t breathe.

  It couldn’t have been more than two minutes since Dylan stopped responding to his touch but it felt like forever. Her breathing was slow, her heart rate nothing but a fading pitter-patter in her chest.

  Slade dropped his head onto the bed, keeping her fingers curved into the heart of his hand. There was nothing he could do to bring her around. No amount of apology for his greed nor declaration of his feelings for her stirred her awake. All he could do was hope. Hope she’d come around and forgive him for causing her any amount of pain.

  If he could just be given a second chance . . . he wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her ever again . . . not even himself. He wouldn’t let his pride or his past get in the way of what she meant to him. Finally, after a hundred years of walking the earth, he’d met someone of worth. Someone who freely gave everything she had to a greater cause, yet somehow found it within herself to trust her heart . . . to trust him.