Kissed by The Dragon: (The Dragon Lords - Book 2)

by K. T. Stryker

  “No,” Landon refused. “The others will wake at the smell of blood. They’ll wonder why you’re feeding without them and be angry. I can’t hold them all off at once. She’ll be torn to shreds.”

  Vanessa pouted and retreated back out of the room.

  Landon leaned forward, placing his hand on Ashe’s knee. She jerked it out of his grip and glared at him.

  “If you want, I could turn you,” he said in a low voice. He glanced behind her towards the kitchen before continuing. “Vanessa might not like it much, but I have a feeling her clan’s not going to be around here much longer. It was her plan, you know, bringing you here. But she has no idea of just how much I’ve taken a liking to you.”

  Ashe felt sick. She despised Landon and all of his kind. He was just as bad as Peter. No, not quite. Whereas Peter had purposely lied to Ashe, Landon was being completely transparent about his intentions towards her. He didn’t pretend he had her best interests at heart. He only wanted her for his own satisfaction, for the blood flowing in her veins.

  “I’d never become one of you,” Ashe replied. “I’d rather die first.”

  Landon chuckled to himself. “You may just have your wish,” he said as a commotion from downstairs brought him to his feet. Ashe instinctively moved to follow him, but he gestured her back down into the chair. “No, you stay here.” He left the room.

  Ashe waited nervously, her knees pressed together as she picked at the fraying edges of the holes in her jeans. She tried to think of a way out, but she knew Landon would always be two steps ahead of her. He had seen her fight with Peter before it had happened and there was no telling how far his power extended. She listened for footsteps before slowly standing from her chair and creeping toward the window. The outside wall of the house was sheer, with no overhangs or footholds between her window and the ground. Ashe guessed that even if she fell straight down, the muddy grass would break her fall enough to prevent a twisted ankle. She undid the latch at the top of the window and pushed it open. It slid upwards as if greased and Ashe let out a breath of relief that it hadn’t squeaked or gotten stuck halfway. She took one last look towards the ground below and steeled herself, summoning the courage she needed to make her escape.

  The sounds from downstairs were getting closer and before Ashe could commit to the jump she could hear footsteps on the stairs. She slammed the window shut and went back to her chair; trying to steady her nervous breathing before Landon and whomever he was with entered the room.

  Two new women were with him, along with Vanessa. One was a double of Vanessa herself, with long black hair and eyes like Peter’s. The other had a predatory grin on her face that made Ashe shrink back in her chair. Her canines were razor sharp and the hollows in her cheeks made her look like a corpse. She may have been breathtakingly beautiful once, but now she seemed ill and the old-fashioned, almost Victorian dress she wore did her no favors. Her black hair was pinned up intricately in a style fitting her ancient clothing.

  “How long until we feast?” the woman asked, eying Ashe like she was a prime cut of steak.

  “Yeah, you promised us blood,” the one who looked a lot like Vanessa added. “I doubt David’s coming. Let’s drain the girl and get it over with. We’re in too much pain for this to go on much longer.”

  Landon growled, “No. I already told Vanessa we can’t do anything until we know for sure. David’s loyalty to us is too valuable. We wait until midnight.”

  She snarled at Landon, but said nothing more. Ashe could see the hunger in her eyes, and as the two women settled onto the sofa across from her, she prayed that Landon would not leave her alone with them. Ashe knew that Landon was the only one keeping them from tearing her limb from limb, if only until midnight.

  There was a difference between vampires like Landon and those like Peter, but Ashe had been too blind to see it until it was too late. She didn’t want to die without Peter knowing how much he really meant to her. It had broken her heart to say those things to him at the church, but by the time she had realized this, the words had already been said and Peter had gone. She would have given anything for one last look into Peter’s eyes to tell him she was sorry and that she hadn’t meant to hurt him the way she had. It wasn’t his fault he was what he was.

  The house was quiet; too quiet. Peter had drifted off for what had seemed like mere moments, lying on his bed trying to forget the sharp pangs in his stomach. But it was already dark and there was no sign of the rest of his clan. Peter feared that his sisters were out on the hunt and in the morning, they would have to leave the city to flee the trail of bodies leading right to their doorstep. He regretted that he hadn’t been able to apologize to Ashe and that he would be leaving her feeling betrayed. The memory of her face when had she told him to go away still haunted him; its pain was something he would never forget.

  His mother and father were still in the basement, lying in bed as if stricken with the flu. The pallor over their faces was like a death mask and his mother’s eyes barely fluttered open when he called their names.

  “Don’t wake your father,” she whispered as Peter leaned in close.

  Peter nodded. “Where is everyone?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  His mother feebly shook her head, giving Peter all the answer he needed.

  “It’s okay, I’ll find them.” He turned to leave.

  “Lock the basement door on your way out,” his mother said. “And find your sisters and bring them home.”

  Peter did as he was told and turned the bolt on the basement door behind him. Vivid images of his father’s last hunt flashed through Peter’s mind as he tried to think of where his sisters might have gone. If they were out hunting, they could be anywhere in the city. It would be impossible to track them down unless Peter heard screaming or the wail of police sirens. They may have gone to campus where it would be easy to lure lone male students out into the quiet churchyard or the park by the hospital. Or they may have gone to a bar to pick out victims.

  Then Peter remembered the phone call Vanessa received in the car and her request to be dropped off at Landon’s house. Was it possible they were all there together? This whole blood mess had started with Landon and it seemed fitting that it would end with him.

  Peter rushed out the front door and into the night. A brisk wind tugged at his coat as he ran down the sidewalk. He would be lucky if they were still there when he arrived, but he was desperate and could think of no other place they might be. As Peter turned onto Landon’s street, he could see that there were lights on in his house. The front-facing windows of the first and second floors burned brightly in the darkness, giving Peter the glimmer of hope that he so badly needed.

  He was nearly at the house when a car swerved onto the curb inches from running him over. The driver got out and Peter saw that it was David, clutching a paper sack to his chest and looking like he’d seen a ghost.

  “What are you doing here?” David asked, his voice frantic.

  “I should ask you the same thing,” Peter growled. He had wasted all afternoon looking for David and here he was on his way to make a delivery to Landon. Peter could have jumped over the car and strangled him.

  “I thought you cared about Ashe,” David said. “Why would you use her like this?”

  Peter had no idea what David was talking about, but the fear in his tone was infectious. “What the hell is going on?” Peter demanded.

  “Ashe was right. You’re all monsters. You kidnapped my daughter and threatened to hurt her, all for a few bags of blood. I know I messed up too, but I can make everything right, I promise. I have the blood right here. It’s not midnight yet. You don’t need to hurt her. Please don’t hurt her.” David broke into desperate sobs and tried to shove the paper bag towards Peter over the hood of the car. A blood bag fell out and started leaking black blood onto the metal. Peter tried to ignore the alluring smell of it and the desperate ache in his bones to drink it up.

  A sick unease came over him as he tried to make se
nse of David’s frantic babbling. Was it really possible Landon could have kidnapped Ashe and was using her to extort blood from David? If Landon had hurt even a hair on Ashe’s head, he would have hell to pay for it.

  “I’m not here for the blood,” Peter said, shoving the bag back towards David. “I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt. That includes your daughter.”

  David took the paper bag up in his arms, clutching it to his chest like a newborn baby. “They’ve got her inside, I think. I need to deliver the blood or they’ll take hers instead. I should have known I’d never be able to stop working for you.”

  “Not me. Landon,” Peter said. The distinction was important. Peter wasn’t one of the monsters. Ashe meant the world to Peter and he would have done anything to keep her safe. His own immortality was worth nothing if it meant hurting her. Ashe had not only shown Peter his own darkness, but the light that came with it. She was the reason that Peter had not succumbed to his hunger like his sisters had. She made him more human than he would have ever thought possible. If he lost her, Peter too would be lost.

  “Your clan’s a part of it too,” David replied.

  Peter didn’t care who was involved. Time was ticking away and the cutthroats had Ashe at their mercy. If his sisters were there, they would go down with Landon. He would destroy them all if he had to. He realized now that no amount of pain could equal that of losing Ashe.

  “You need to get back in your car and wait there,” Peter instructed David. “We’re going to need that blood you brought, but only after I know that Ashe is safe. I promise I’ll bring back your daughter.”

  David looked like he was about to protest, but reluctantly got back into his car with the paper bag. Peter turned and sprinted towards the house, not stopping until his fists were banging against the front door. The wood started to splinter, but Peter didn’t care. Nothing would keep him from saving Ashe.

  “Landon, you bastard, open up!” he shouted through the wood.

  The door opened suddenly and Peter almost tumbled through, but the person standing there was not Landon but Penelope. She had a dark tinge of red along her lower lip and an evil glint in her eye. “So you came to the party after all.”

  Peter shoved his way past her. “Where’s Ashe?” he demanded.

  Vanessa came into the entryway, with Agatha behind her.

  “She’s upstairs with Landon,” Vanessa said. “He’s looking after her because this one couldn’t keep her hands to herself.” She shot a piercing glare at Penelope. “We’re not allowed up there anymore. It’s only the two of them.”

  Peter sensed a bit of jealousy in the way his sister spoke. He too felt a twinge of it in his gut. He knew Landon could be charming and tried not to imagine how Landon had lured Ashe here in the first place. It was torture, like a hot knife in his chest.

  But more importantly, the blood around Penelope’s mouth was no doubt Ashe’s, and Peter knew the taste of it would only make his sister hungrier. He pushed past his sisters, who hissed in protest as he mounted the stairs. He could see the light on in one of the rooms through the crack under the door. Peter wrenched the door open to find Landon leaning down over Ashe and holding a wad of gauze bandages to her slender neck. Scarlet blood was already flowering across their whiteness and Ashe’s face looked alarmingly pale. A window was open—to let the smell of blood out of the room— but it wasn’t doing much good. Landon looked as though he was drunk on Ashe’s scent and Peter wondered if he had taken a taste as well.

  “Good, you’re here,” Landon smiled. He placed a tender kiss on Ashe’s forehead before straightening up. Peter’s fists clenched at his sides. Ashe wavered but managed to remain upright in her chair. She had clearly lost too much blood already.

  “Get away from her,” Peter shouted. He crossed the room to get to Ashe, forcing Landon to back away from her. Landon made no protest, only smiling as if amused at Peter’s anger. Every second wasted was another that Ashe was in danger.

  “I’m not the one you should be angry at,” Landon said. “It was David’s fault for trying to weasel out of his obligation to our clan. And your sisters, I told you I’d take care of them. Maybe all this is really your fault. If David had never reconnected with his family, he wouldn’t have tried to cheat us of our blood. You’re the one who couldn’t keep things to yourself. You just had to get involved in the petty human drama around you. What does it matter if one more girl lives her life broken and unloved? She’ll be dead in what, fifty, sixty years? Human lives are so short they’re not worth trying to fix. You should know that by now.”

  Ashe was softly sobbing as she held the bandages to her neck. Peter wanted to put his arms around her, but feared the scent of her blood would drive him crazy. He was afraid to test which was stronger at the moment: his love or his hunger.

  Landon chuckled. “Though I have to admit I had my fun too. I toyed with her, got her to trust me, and it was all too easy to get her to my house once you two had your little argument. She tastes better than I imagined.”

  Before Landon could continue, Peter swung his fist. It landed square against Landon’s jaw with a satisfying crack. Landon reeled back, caught off-guard by Peter’s punch. Peter took the opportunity to shove him to the ground, following through with more fists to the face.

  Landon fought back, wrenching himself out from under Peter. The two grappled for the upper hand, smashing against furniture and walls as they fought. A table leg buckled and broke as Peter threw Landon against it. Peter matched Landon in strength, but Landon’s precognition gave him the advantage of speed.

  Peter swung at Landon and missed. Landon grabbed the broken-off table leg from the floor, brandishing it like a knife. Peter knew that if he made even one false step, he would die with that wood lodged through his heart. He tried to create some distance between himself and Landon, but it was the wrong move. The floor was strewn with the debris of their fight and Peter had to glance down to avoid tripping. Landon lunged at him and Peter knew it was the end. His only wish was that he could have saved Ashe from the horrors that were to come.

  Peter braced for the killing blow, but it never came. Landon stopped short, looking confused. He dropped the wooden table leg with a small gasp and looked down. Peter followed his gaze to see black blood oozing from a wound in his thigh. Ashe still had hold of the blunt end of the wooden shard, looking like she was about to pass out. She let go of the weapon as Landon stumbled backwards clutching his leg. Peter rushed over to catch her before she tumbled to the floor.

  “You bitch,” Landon spat. Landon pulled the wood from his leg with a grimace and stabbed at Peter, but this time Peter was ready. He knocked the wood from Landon’s hand with ease.

  “Ever since I moved here, you’ve been nothing but a nuisance,” Peter said in a low voice. “And now I finally have the chance to get rid of you.” His blood was boiling with fury and he would not hold back, not after what Landon had done to Ashe. Landon would pay for all of it.

  Peter took a step forward and Landon dashed for the open window. He heaved himself over the ledge before Peter could catch him. Peter heard a distant thud and rushed to the window to catch a glimpse of a dark shape disappearing out of view down the street. Peter wanted to track him down and finish him off, but Ashe’s weak moans reminded Peter of what was most important.

  He turned away from the window and knelt down to look at Ashe’s bite wound. He pulled back the gauze and immediately regretted it. The tang of blood filled the air and it was all Peter could do to keep the hunger at bay.

  “They said I had until midnight. They lied,” Ashe mumbled.

  Peter put his hand to her cheek. He could feel her warm tears under his fingers. “You don’t have to talk. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay. Your dad’s here with the delivery. He’ll give it to the others and everything will be okay. We’ll let your family go. You owe us no debt.”

  “I’m sorry for everything I said and I’m sorry I was so angry at you. I didn’t understa
nd any of it, of what being a vampire meant. You fought for me. You saved me.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Peter said. It was impossible to ignore the scent of Ashe’s blood. He swallowed hard and leaned down towards her neck, feeling an irresistible pull towards the still-fresh wound. He opened his mouth, then with incredible effort closed his lips and let them graze Ashe’s soft skin above the wound. He would not hurt her. He loved her.

  Ashe held him close as his mouth found hers. Through tears she kissed him with all of the passion they had both held back since the day on the roof. Peter found he had completely forgotten about his hunger. All he wanted was to hold Ashe in his arms knowing that she was his and he was hers. They wouldn’t have to say goodbye to each other, not today. Not ever. Relief flooded Peter as he let his desire for her free of its restraints.

  Peter finally broke the kiss, remembering his sisters were still downstairs and knowing that Ashe needed medical attention for the bite on her neck.

  “I have to call David,” he managed to say before forcing himself to stand. There was a smudge of Ashe’s blood on his finger as he dialed the phone and he hastily wiped it on his jeans. Though he knew he was stronger than temptation, he didn’t like being reminded of just how close he had come.

  Peter walked towards the door as the phone rang. He needed to know what had become of Penelope, Agatha, and Vanessa.

  “Don’t leave me,” Ashe whimpered, using the chair to prop herself up to standing.

  “I won’t leave you,” Peter replied. “Not ever.”