Touched by His Vampire Charm

by Kira Nyte

  Vivian tried to push between him and Nalia, but the older fae tsked.

  “He’s my soul mate,” Vivian snapped. “And he is more than desirable.”

  Draven grinned, unwinding their hands to wrap his arm around her waist. She held his wrist possessively, and he reveled in the gesture.

  “And his life will be forfeit.”

  In that moment, Draven realized that even the undead could feel the breath of Death against the back of their necks. There was no other way to explain the chill that consumed him, or the darkness that suddenly plagued any promise of a future for him with Vivian.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vivian tried desperately to piece together the shattered bits of her heart, soul, and hope after Nalia suggested they part for rest. Each of them had their own space, small, albeit luxurious rooms surrounded by glass walls and floors and ceilings. They were embraced by the universe, the magic and power vibrating through every cell. The sensation of free-floating alone far beyond Nalia’s residence left her aching to find Draven.

  The magic in this place was astounding, proof of how easily it flowed in the simplest of things. This room, which she instinctively knew was a wall away from where Draven rested, though there seemed to be no solid walls to divide them. Even the door was made of glass. The illusions were breathtaking, the strength and force apparent in the unbreakable glass while it symbolized the fragility of existence.

  Nalia’s prophetic words were a dagger in the center of Vivian’s crystal world. A dagger that pierced her precious dreams, created a million spider web cracks along the surface until they connected and everything crumbled.

  Every action had a consequence.

  Kalen saved his soul mate with their powers and, in essence, sentenced Vivian’s soul mate to death.

  The wail that fled her lips sucked the life from her spirit. She collapsed to her knees and cried into her hands.

  “You have a strength inside you that my sister possessed until she took her last breath.”

  Vivian startled. Nalia knelt beside her and captured her face in warm hands. She wiped the tears from Vivian’s face with a sad smile.

  “You embody her in every way, Vivian. She would be so proud to see how you’ve grown. Your suffering granted you wisdom and empathy. You understand pain and loss, and embrace gratitude. Kalen feels the need to protect you, and that is what he’s learned. His valiant ways. A symbol of loyalty and love and unwavering determination to do what is right. Neither of you are weak, and tears are by no means a weakness.”

  She leaned close and pressed a kiss to Vivian’s forehead.

  “What will happen to Draven?” she asked through quivering lips.

  “You cannot stop it, Vivian.”

  “I’m going to lose him? When I’ve only just found him? When will everyone I love stop suffering?”

  Nalia’s lips lifted in a loving smile when Vivian realized the fullness of what she disclosed.

  “You do love him.” She stroked Vivian’s hair, tucking strands behind the points of her ears. “You have not exchanged blood with him. Why? He keeps the poison away.”

  Vivian blinked. “But…” Oh, the weakness that swept through her. She never felt the virus when Draven was near. She thought it was from the excitement she felt just being close to him. Was there truly more? Was he…could he… “My cure?”

  “What I can say, my niece, is that it will not hurt to share. He came to you now. During a time when you believed there was no hope. Never lose hope, sweetness, because you are hope. It’s your gift.”

  Nalia swept her fingers over Vivian’s eyes, forcing them closed as the moisture was brushed away.

  When she opened her eyes, Nalia was gone.

  “Love.”

  Vivian sprung to her feet and turned as Draven strode to her. She had no time to wrap her mind around how he was in her room before his hands were on her face and his mouth crushed down over hers. Her soul sang with joy and sorrow. She sobbed with a rush of happiness and grief.

  Draven. She was going to lose Draven.

  His hands dropped to her waist and he tugged her flush against him. She clung to his neck, her arms locked in place, fingers fisted in his hair as he lifted her feet from the floor.

  “Love,” he breathed into her mouth, giving her a small reprieve from drowning in his desire before he consumed her with another powerful, possessive kiss.

  The tips of his fangs pricked her lip and tongue with each desperate, hard kiss. Beads of blood rose from the superficial wounds and she drank in the essence of her blood drawn from his passion. The faint shivers that cascaded over his body and the feral growls that bubbled up from his chest were erotic and satisfying. He washed away the weight of their dismal future with each caress of his hands and whisper of adoration.

  When his mouth trailed down her neck, she tipped her head, exposing the length of skin over her pulsing vein. “Drink.”

  Draven scraped his fangs over her flesh. She moaned with a fierce shudder of delight. “Goddess of mine. Light in my darkness. Life to my death.”

  He sank his fangs deep into her neck.

  Vivian gasped, her fingers tightening in his ruffled hair as her legs wrapped desperately around his waist. He hissed against her skin.

  Then he drew on her vein, leisurely drinking her essence into his soul, and she melted a hundred times over. He brushed his fingers over her cheek as he continued to drink. She untangled one of her hands from his hair as a deft pulse and tingle crossed through her gums. Her eyes opened to slits, but it was enough to catch the thread of blue beneath the pale skin of his uplifted wrist.

  Instinct drove her when she angled his wrist across her mouth and traced her tongue over the tendons. A whisper of heat, those veins.

  A deep rumble resonated from Draven’s chest right before she tested her aim and bit into his wrist.

  Her back hit one of the glass walls as blood splashed over her tongue.

  A moan fled her.

  A fierce tremor conquered Draven and echoed along her limbs.

  Oh, the taste of his essence was brutally dark and delicious. Spicy and powerful. Intoxicating. She lost herself in everything Draven. Potent. Consuming.

  “Stop, love.”

  Draven panted the weak command.

  His wrist tugged away from her mouth, only to be replaced by his hungry lips.

  The kiss ended far too soon, but when it did, a spark of clarity lit in her fogged head.

  She was on her back, on a bed with Draven trembling over her, his eyes black except for a thin, bright blue ring around his pupils. His nostrils flared and his lips were taut. He pressed his forehead to hers as they fought for footing in this strange and consuming dance.

  “You’re going to make me lose it, love. And I won’t. Not here, not ever. You deserve so much more.”

  She tugged his shirt from his jeans. “I deserve you, and I want you.”

  “Vivian.”

  “Yes. That’s my answer. What was your question?”

  He growled.

  His next kiss branded her soul as his.

  Because tonight was the beginning.

  The beginning of the end.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The plan was simple.

  There was no plan.

  Draven rubbed a hand slowly over his face as he stared at Clark’s house and the multiple shadows within. The lights were dimmed, most likely for the sake of pleasing Garrett and his henchmen.

  He had no idea the fury he’d walk into, and did his best to hide his uncertainty behind false calm. Garrett didn’t like to wait and expected to be obeyed. He had wanted to speak the night after their last meeting, but Crazy paid Draven and Vivian a visit.

  Three days later on Earth—he wasn’t sure how long they had remained in the Celestial realm, since there was no cycle of day and night, not to mention he had been a little busy—and he was certain he’d get shot up with icy gazes the moment he walked through Clark’s door.

  He�
�d handle it.

  What he struggled to hide was his disapproval with Vivian’s instance on coming inside, too. And Kalen. To his great relief, Kalen had convinced Fawn to remain with Jackson and Sophia at the young scientist’s house. At least that was something.

  He glanced at Vivian. Gods, why wouldn’t she agree to stay behind, too, to stay safe?

  You’re supposed to die and she thinks she can save you.

  The truth didn’t escape him, nor did it make him feel any better about tonight. Nalia said Cerryan would be handled by the High Guards after his direct attempt to confiscate Kalen’s crown. But interfering with the vampires on Earth could be catastrophic.

  Vivian had begged for other outcomes, but Nalia had refused to give in to her pleas.

  Which meant he was probably about to walk into the hands of his executioner. Who wanted to plan their own death? Certainly not him, and he wouldn’t set a plan in motion. Better to have his fate left up in the air if he had any chance of walking away from tonight to enjoy eternity with Vivian.

  Oh, what he’d do to return to that glass room and gaze out at the universe with Vivian tucked beside him in bed.

  My sweet Vivian.

  She sat in the backseat and stared through the tinted windows of Kalen’s sports scar. Her body was rigid, her chest barely moving from her lack of breathing and the deadly pace of her heart. Beside him, Kalen portrayed the epitome of a man of calm, seated back in the driver’s seat, but his eyes were dagger sharp. A man not to be taken at face value.

  “You said they are unaware of what we are,” Kalen said quietly, breaking the dense silence. “It may benefit us until we know what we’ll be dealing with.”

  “Walking corpses, Kalen. They’re pathetic,” Draven grumbled. “Abominations.”

  “They are vampire Elders and obviously powerful.”

  “We are young by their standards and full of vitality.”

  Kalen flicked his hand in a “so-you-say” motion that needled Draven’s already tense nerves.

  “Well, now’s as good a time as any.” Draven pushed open the passenger side door and stretched up onto his feet. Kalen appeared beside him. He suppressed his urge to slam the back door shut the moment he heard it open. Instead, he braced one hand on the door, one on the roof of the car, and leaned down to block Vivian from getting out. Her eyes were glazed over, her emotions unreadable. She wore the mien of a soulless creature, and Draven hated it. “I’m serious when I say you should consider staying in the car.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched.

  Then she vanished.

  Draven closed his eyes and gritted his teeth before he quietly closed the door and turned back to Kalen. The other man’s expression failed to hide the degree of his distaste for his sister’s stubbornness.

  Vivian reappeared at her brother’s side. She tilted her head and lifted a brow. “Ready?”

  “No. Not until you agree to go back to Jackson’s house,” Draven said harshly, though he kept the volume low. He wouldn’t put it past the bags of bones to hear them, even at this distance. “Fawn stayed behind, and for good reason.”

  Kalen grunted, muttering something in the Celestial tongue under his breath.

  Vivian held out her hand for Draven to take. “I’m holding onto hope for tonight.”

  “With no weapons or backup.” Draven groaned, capturing her hand and lifting her knuckles to nuzzle against his cheek for a brief moment.

  “Nothing is set in stone, Draven. Prophecies are only as powerful as you allow them to become. If I have learned anything through my life, it is that we determine our own destinies, regardless of who and what tries to break us down along the way.”

  Draven stared at her for a long moment. Yeah, she yanked his heart from his chest and claimed him as her own. He was fine with it. It didn’t take much to realize he had crashed and burned hard for his princess and goddess the night he bumped into her at Howler’s.

  “Well, then, let’s write out our future, shall we?”

  Draven tried to ignore the prickling foreboding along his neck as he led Vivian and Kalen up the driveway and to the front door. He paused only to release Vivian’s hand—not because he wanted to, but for her own safety—before he unlocked the door and entered the house with all of his cocky confidence set in place.

  If Death came calling tonight, he wasn’t going down a coward.

  Ice scraped along his mind. He turned to the living room.

  “It’s about time!”

  Clark rushed to him from the hallway, drawing his attention from the living room before he spotted the source of the chill. His friend’s eager concern washed away the moment his eyes found Vivian and Kalen. His mouth tightened and his shoulders grew stiff. He flashed a shaded glance toward the living room. The silence that stretched between them was fraught with question.

  Draven merely nodded once, confirming his friend’s unspoken question.

  “Let me get you a beer. Anything for you two?” Clark asked, skillfully leaving out introductions.

  “I think we’re all okay for the moment.” Draven broke Clark’s gaze and moved toward the living room. The sight of the three Elders sitting on the sofa like Grim Reapers without their scythes would have been humorous if that didn’t flush his prognosis for eternal life down the toilet. “Wasn’t expecting a welcoming party.”

  Garrett’s lips pulled back from his teeth. His obsidian eyes were nothing shy of Arctic cold, and they chilled Draven with poignant frustration.

  “It is kind of you to arrive.” Garrett’s focus shifted to Vivian and Kalen. “With guests.”

  “Friends I’ve made the last few nights,” Draven said. “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? Not that a few nights puts much of a dent in your aging process.”

  “You were nowhere to be found the last three nights.” The coven leader’s nostrils flared. “You waste our time when the matter at hand takes precedence.” Garrett narrowed his eyes on Vivian. “To…frolic with an inconsequential woman?”

  The second Draven saw Vivian’s shoulders go rigid and her expression turn mulish, he mentally cursed. She’d experienced far too much pain and suffering in her life to let Garrett toss insults at her without repercussion. That much he knew.

  However, now was not the time for power struggles.

  He really wished Vivian had stayed with Fawn.

  “Why are these creatures here?” Disgust dripped off Garrett’s tongue like tar. “Their station is obviously below us. What are they?”

  Draven and Kalen both gripped one of Vivian’s shoulders as she opened her mouth, most likely to incriminate her identity. Draven had been very clear on the way over not to say a word about what breed of fae they were or the fact they were Sal’s children. Vampire politics could be a tricky dance. The Levoire coven’s politics were downright dirty.

  “What do you suppose they are?” Draven asked, unable to keep the sharp edge from his tone. “You have plenty of old tomes in the library that would permit you to recognize their race.”

  “You would allow the female to speak her mind at will,” Sylvester said with a sour edge. “Had you not restrained her.”

  “That’s how things roll in this world, Sylvie,” Draven mocked.

  Garrett lifted a bony hand to silence both Brodan and Sylvester before they could retort. When his cronies subsided, he stood up and glided toward Vivian and Kalen. Draven and Kalen moved as one, pulling Vivian behind the wall of their bodies. At least his stubborn angel remained where they put her.

  Kalen lifted his chin beneath Garrett’s assessment, but remained silent. After a long moment, Garrett turned to Draven, disappointment roiling in his eyes.

  “I expected more from you, Draven. Instead, you lower yourself to consort with mix-breeds.”

  Draven recognized the lethal purr of Garrett’s voice.

  So did Clark, who tried to wedge himself between Garrett and Draven. Faster than a snake, Garrett grabbed him by the throat and pitched him across the room. C
lark slammed into the wall, leaving an impression of his body in the drywall that webbed and crumbled around him.

  Brodan appeared at Clark’s side, brandishing a short sword. Instead of metal, the blade was wood, tipped with silver, poised to pierce Clark through the chest. The threat was clear.

  A calm, dangerous rage pulsed in Draven’s mind. He had to keep himself in check or he’d see Clark turn into a mummy before disintegrating into ash.

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed on Kalen. “You certainly have your father’s defiance in your eyes. A rather admirable quality when it isn’t implemented foolishly.”

  Kalen’s lips curled in a soundless snarl. A tick touched his cheek.

  Garrett slid his piercing gaze to Draven, his grin far from friendly. “You did not think I would recognize who they were the moment I saw them, did you?” His brows rose. “Oh. You did.”

  Draven had no time to react before Sylvester yanked Vivian away and threatened her heart with a similar wooden short sword. The storm of fear and fury that laced her eyes was palpable. It resonated in his chest. He observed every detail of Sylvester’s grip on her, mentally calculating how he would free her without harm.

  As if to answer with a stern “you won’t,” Sylvester drew a bead of blood from the curve of her breast with the tip of the stake. Darkness cascaded over Vivian’s expression, and her bared teeth silently screamed resistance.

  “Your behavior toward them is quite concerning, Draven,” Garrett continued.

  A bark of pain caused Draven to jerk around in time to see Brodan step back from his handiwork. He’d pinned Clark to the ruined wall with a stake through his chest. Blood soaked the front of Clark’s shirt, agony twisting his features. The stake missed his most vital organ, but rendered him helpless.

  What have you laced your medieval device with?

  “You’ve befriended them.” The brittle words brought Draven’s fury back to Garrett. He wasn’t shocked to see Kalen facing the point of yet another stake, wielded by the leader himself. Kalen looked ready to tear the vampire’s head off as he pressed back into the wall Garrett had pushed him to. “You’ve befriended our enemies.”