Another cry came from his angel. The air trembled with the depth of her fear.
In all of Aerick’s battling, he’d never hated a slayer more. He wanted to push back his hood just so the beast could read its death in his eyes. “Pray for mercy, slayer. For today you’ll die.” Aerick lunged, going for the werewolf’s throat.
The beast twisted, lashing out with a long claw to rip off Aerick’s hood. Aerick ducked low and the slayer’s nails tore the back of his cloak. Fiery pain coursed through him as the rays of the fading sun penetrated and burned him. Aerick sliced into the slayer’s furry arm, drawing a gush of black blood, before spinning around to place himself between his love and the beast. He braced himself against the pain searing his back.
The beast was larger than most of the slayers by several feet. Aerick decided to take it down from the feet up rather than risk getting close enough for another strike at its jugular. To make things a little more difficult, it started to hail.
“Is the human worth your life, prime?” the beast taunted. “Save yourself and return to the dark.”
“Never, beast. Slayers are cowards. I’ll engrave that on your tombstone. ”
“Yours will read, ‘A fool slain by Ghenghis’,” the monster boasted with a sneer.
Aerick feigned another thrust to the slayer’s throat, but at the last moment slashed downwards to its swollen groin. The beast’s quick turn saved it from castration but Aerick’s sword sank into the werewolf’s thigh, hitting bone.
The beast roared in anger and pain then shifted into a fanged serpent to lunge between Aerick’s legs. Aerick’s slashing sword landed in the dirt as he slipped on the hail, missing the serpent by a hair’s breadth. The girl’s scream filled him with dread.
He swung around, already imagining the serpent’s fangs sinking into her throat, but she wasn’t huddled into a frightened ball behind him as he’d expected. Instead, she’d armed herself with a thick tree branch and swung at the serpent, hitting its head and knocking it into the air. The serpent shifted into a vulture and flew at her face.
Too close to safely use his sword, Aerick flung himself at his angel, his arms wide. He managed to knock her to the ground just before the vulture struck. Its claws dug into Aerick’s back, tearing more from his cloak.
With sword still in hand, Aerick rolled to the side and slashed upwards, cutting off a claw.
“I’ll see you both in hell!” The vulture, dripping black blood, added a shattering screech to his threat and flew off into the hailstorm.
In pain, Aerick smelled his flesh burning. He had to get out of the light.
“God in heaven! What was that beast?” The girl struggled upwards, face pale, blue eyes wide as she tried to block the bruising rain and hail. Leaves had tangled in her vibrant hair and a bleeding scratch marred her left cheek. The sweet smell of her blood set his churning hunger for her on fire. His fangs ached so badly that he bit the inside of his mouth, sucked at his own blood and fought hard to rein in his desire. He’d not lose his honour even if it killed him.
Taking a bracing breath, he clasped her gloved hand in his and helped her to her feet. Her body trembled badly from what had to be shock and fear, but her bravery didn’t waver. It made him smile through his pain. “Come with me quickly,” he said. “There is a chance the beast could return.”
She shuddered harder and he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to his side to protect her from the hail and guide her through the storm. The church was their closest shelter and he sighed with relief once the heavy, wood doors shut behind them. He only deliberated a moment before he decided to take her beneath the sanctuary.
She was soaked to the bone and the ferocity of the storm would keep her here for some time yet. He needed his skin salve and she needed warmth. Before she could catch her breath he led her to the secret panel and down the stairs.
The village of Castleborough was built with the secret help of varlets, human-like servants to immortals. Practically every building was connected by underground tunnels and had hidden rooms, stocked with furniture and supplies for a vampire’s basic needs. When the light of day could kill, darkharbours were essential. Though it had been some time since he last visited the church, Aerick found the darkharbour in perfect order.
“Wait here,” he told her as he closed the secret stone panel to the room and locked it. Ghenghis the Slayer couldn’t get to them here even if he were whole enough to follow them. Aerick moved to the fireplace and took off his gloves and weapons. With the stored sulphur and phosphorus, he had a fire going in minutes. Then he lit an oil lamp and faced the girl, his heart pounding in wonder and his back searing in pain. Though she shivered, she didn’t move towards the heat, but faced him, gloves in hand and brow knotted fiercely. “Who are you? What room is this within the church?” Aerick considered lying and telling her that he was just a man who happened to be near, but couldn’t bring himself to cheat them both of the truth. With a groan, he unclasped his wet cloak and slipped off the hood. “Except for our names, we are already known to each other, angel. I am Aerick the Eternal. My bronze likeness guards the graveyard.”
Christine’s heart thundered even as her blood drained in a dizzying rush. In the flickering light, she studied the strong features of the man before her. She took in the breadth of his shoulders, the sculpted sinew of his muscles and the bearing of his stance, complete with sword, then stood in stunned silence. It was true. The man was the statue come to life, now wearing a loose white shirt, black pants and black boots.
Her gloves fell from her grasp and she leaned against the wall, needing support as her knees went weak.
He hurried to her, grasping her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you. You’ve spoken to the statue so often that in my mind I thought I was already real to you. Forgive me, angel.”
“You heard me?” she gasped, remembering her often improper musings.
“And watched. From nearby,” he said. “You were too beautiful to ignore.”
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Christine couldn’t believe it, yet couldn’t stop herself from touching him, from reaching up and brushing her fingers over his rough cheeks and chin. His skin was warm and vibrant and supple, but left no doubt of the iron beneath. His black hair fell to his shoulders in a wild mane and his green eyes were as sharp and fierce as the sword he’d wielded against the evil beast. The scent of sandalwood mixed with something arousing and exotic filled her senses. Yes, he was the man from the statue, but much bigger and more lethal and so much more . . . everything. More valiant. More male. More predatory . . . more sensual. Her thumb touched the full bottom lip that she’d drawn so many times and he gasped with pleasure, revealing a set of white teeth with . . . oh God . . . fangs. Her gaze met Aerick the Eternal’s and the dark hunger in them stole the breath from her lungs.
It was more than she could absorb and a suffocating veil closed over her, dimming the world to almost black.
Chapter Two
Christine wavered on her feet, her mind and body recoiling from the surreal sight of Aerick’s fangs. Everything within her wanted to believe that the shape-shifting beast’s attack, and all the rest of this, was some strange dream, but she feared it to be true. Which meant her mother’s wild stories of supernatural beings and magic were true and . . . her warrior was real . . . and fanged . . . and a vampire.
Oh God. She couldn’t breathe.
“Damn! Forgive me yet again, my angel,” Aerick said softly, his expression pained as he hid evidence of his fangs. “It would seem you have stolen my wits with your beauty and your touch. You must understand, no matter how strange all of this is, you’ve nothing to fear from me.” He scooped her off her feet, cradling her in his arms like something precious as he walked towards the hearth. She didn’t know which was hotter, the fire or the heat of his body. Both seeped through her wet clothes to warm her skin.
“I swear upon my honour, no harm will come to you. Do you believe me
?” He stood before the firelight, his gaze intent and earnest.
Caution warred with her dreams of the ideal man she’d imagined him to be. He’d already proven his noble courage to be true. He’d saved her life. Yet she had so many questions. And if he was a vampire, didn’t she need to fear that as much as the slavering beast who had hunted her down?
“Yes,” she whispered, then gasped for air, remembering to breathe. Call her a fool but she couldn’t bring herself to truly fear him. She believed him and she believed in him.
“Thank God,” he said, closing his eyes a moment.
She planted a finger in the middle of his white shirt. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a great deal to answer for, Aerick the Eternal. Now put me down and start explaining everything from the beginning.”
His eyes popped open and an amused grin tugged at the corners of his sensual mouth. “Everything? I fear we’ll be here quite a while then. I’ve been alive for a very long time.”
As he set her on her feet, Christine had to remind herself that his beautiful mouth held deadly fangs. Rather than admit to being still too dizzy to stand, she moved two steps to the hearthstone and sat down, hoping that her heart would soon stop thundering in her ears.
He picked up a soft-looking pelt of white fur from the end of the bed and spread it before the hearth at her feet.
She watched him carefully, waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, she narrowed her gaze at him and cleared her throat, demanding his attention. “I should think you can start with the answers to these questions first. Who are you? What are you? How have you seen me in the graveyard? What sort of beast can change form like that?”
Aerick shook his head, seemingly bemused. Kneeling down on the rug before her, he caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Your hair gives testament to your fiery spirit. I will have your name first, angel. Then we will get you dry and warm before I talk.”
“Christine.” She swallowed, watching him run his thumb over the strands of her hair. Her body tingled warmly despite her chill.
“Christine,’ he said softly, his voice a deep caress. “A perfect name for an angel. Now off with your wet cloak, so we can set it to dry as we wait for the storm to pass.”
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp at her throat, but it wasn’t the cold that hindered her. It was that he was so close and desire was burning unsettlingly in his eyes.
“Let me,” he said. Brushing her fingers aside, he simply undid her cloak and leaned forwards to slip it from her shoulders. But inside her, she felt he did so much more to her than that. He stripped her defences bare. He made her wonder how his sensual mouth – so close now – would feel against hers. Her entire being knotted with expectation as she looked directly into his eyes. She had imagined his kiss so many times before.
He suddenly froze and stared back at her, then drew a sharp breath – pupils dilating and nostrils flaring.
A hot, branding fire swept down Christine’s spine to her loins.
Aerick dropped her cloak, letting it fall down her back, and grabbed her shoulders, his mouth parting with expectation. She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to the fangs he revealed. She knew she should fear them, fear that part of him, but she didn’t. It fascinated her.
Releasing her, he cursed and stood to face the fire, his hands fisted. “Dear God, don’t fear me. I can stand many things but not that. I’ll never bite you, Christine. I’ll never condemn you to a life of eternal darkness with a blood oath.”
“I . . . didn’t . . . fear you just now. I –” Her cheeks burned. Reaching up, she touched his arm. “I . . . wondered of your kiss. If you’ve watched me at the statue then you know I often have.” She ran her gaze down his form, knowing just how often she’d touched every curve of his bronze likeness. It was then that she saw his torn and bloody shirt.
“Good heavens! How could I have forgotten? You’re hurt.” She stood, urging him to turn his back towards her. “The creature clawed you.”
He was silent until she brought her gaze to his as he looked over his shoulder. “Just a few scrapes. The sunlight burned my exposed skin, but there’s a salve here that will help me heal quickly. It is the curse of my race to be free only within the darkness of the night.”
“Where?” Christine muttered, ashamed of herself as she assessed Aerick’s shredded shirt. He had more than a few “scratches”.
He shifted his broad shoulder towards her and arched a brow that somehow made her heart flip. “Where what?”
“Where is the salve? We should have taken care of you immediately. We also need water and bandages.”
“You would care for me?” He sounded incredulous.
Christine blinked at Aerick. “Of course. Why ever would I not?”
He shrugged then grimaced with pain. “I am a warrior breed of my kind. Besides the varlets who serve immortals, it would be rare to find another to care for me. Though warriors are essential to the survival of our race, they’re seen as barbaric – a necessary evil to most, reviling and unclean to some. And for a human to care for one of my kind would be even more unusual, considering the reputation the slayers have built for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Slayers shift into any image they choose and often take the form of a vampire or werewolf when hunting mortals. That was a slayer that attacked us outside.”
“So the ghastly stories are true, but we’re blaming the wrong culprit?”
“Yes. A long time ago we tried everything we could to prove our innocence, but no mortal would believe us, even after seeing what the slayers could do.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but most of your race and mine are ignorant fools then. How can they possibly revile the men who keep them safe? How could a mortal believe a slayer over a man like you? Thankfully, I am not ignorant. Now where is the salve?”
Aerick laughed. “You’ll find the salve, bandages and towels in the cabinet by the table, but no water. This brandy on the mantel will have to suffice. The underground well for this darkharbour went dry a number of years ago.”
“Darkharbour?” she asked as she gathered up the supplies.
“Hidden shelters to escape the sun when there’s no time to return home.”
“These places are everywhere?” She set everything on the table that stood to the left of the hearth.
“Most everywhere. There’s even a place in the graveyard. It’s the large crypt near the statue. That’s where I first saw you several years ago,” he said as he brought the brandy from the mantel and scooted a chair closer to the hearth. He opened the decanter and drank two long swallows from the bottle.
“Years?” she asked softly. Had she known it somewhere in her consciousness? Was that why she’d become so enamoured with the statue? Had she sensed he was there and fallen in love with his presence? Was that why she felt as if she already knew him?
“Years.” He took another drink and then handed her the bottle. “You’d better have a bit yourself. It will warm you, and brace you for tending to my burns. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I do,” she said softly, eyeing the brandy. To Christine, the invitation to drink seemed like an open door to a world she’d only seen from afar. Gentlemen drank brandy, servants drank ale and she’d only ever had tea. Her hand trembled as she took the decanter, more from the brush of Aerick’s fingers against hers than from the decision to take her first sip of brandy. She’d never be the same after today, so why not change everything about herself she could? Before she could think of any reason why she shouldn’t take a drink, she lifted the bottle to her lips and proceeded to gulp a mouthful of . . . pure fire.
“Oh my!” she gasped. Her eyes watered and she shuddered as the brandy burned all the way to her stomach.
“Careful,” he said, catching the decanter before it fell from her shaking grasp.
“People choose to drink that?” Her voice wheezed.
He laughed, a rich deep sound. She was sure she’d
appreciate it later when she could function again. “Yes, just not all at once unless they’re used to it.”
“I think I’ll stick with my tea for the time being,” she said when she could finally breathe again. She shook her head as another shudder worked up her spine. “You’re sure you want brandy put on your back?”
“The alcohol will cleanse the wounds and aid healing.” He took off his shirt. If Aerick hadn’t picked up the brandy for another sip then Christine would have done so herself. At least then she’d have an excuse for her sudden inability to think or speak. The bronze statue didn’t match up to the man because the man surpassed the mere statue. He was a living work of art. His shoulders seemed to be three times the size of hers. Every hard-muscled curve of his chest and stomach flowed with perfection and oozed power. Her mouth watered and her fingers tingled. A warm glow centred in her belly and a hot rush of blood sang through her veins.
She closed her eyes a moment to gain control of her senses. Never before had the sight of a man’s chest been notable to her, and her reaction shocked her, for she wanted to see more of him, all of him. She seriously doubted that any sculptor or painter could capture Aerick’s perfection.
She opened her eyes for another look then gasped. Aerick had turned and straddled the chair before the fire, leaving his back to her. There were a handful of bloody cuts, but as he’d warned her, the burns were the worse. They were each about the size of his splayed hand, blistered and raw, as if the sun’s rays had completely destroyed his skin.
Guiltily shoving away her wayward thoughts, she quietly set to work, cleaning the cuts first with the brandy he handed her. Next to him, she felt like a mouse before a lion that was growing tenser by the moment. But she refused to hurry. In fact, her every touch upon his tightening muscles seemed to linger longer than necessary as she ministered to him, for the emotion building inside her wouldn’t let her do less than her best. She couldn’t stay removed from his sacrifice and how much he had risked in coming to her rescue. She finished by putting a thick layer of salve over his burns, wrapping a wide bandage around his chest and securing it with a knot.
Love Bites UK (Mammoth Book Of Vampire Romance2) Page 48