by Kira Nyte
Draven laughed, the sound lacking all humor. Rage dripped off his tongue. “Sal would be rolling over in his ash pile about now if he heard your rather poor opinion of his children, considering you’re the one holding stakes to their chests.”
Searing hot pain exploded through his gut as his body jolted forward. The hand that appeared on his shoulder and the nails that stabbed through his skin and muscle held him from falling to his knees. Brodan. Vivian’s horrified scream pulsed in time with the waves of pain assaulting his body. His head dropped and he stared at the bloody tip of a stake protruding from his abdomen. Warmth oozed down his stomach and soaked into his shirt and the waistband of his jeans.
“Draven Lourdes, I will give you one opportunity to redeem yourself. Should you fail, you shall be sacrificed, and so shall your sister. Your rebellious ways have been tolerated long enough.”
From the corner of his eyes, through the sheet of ebbing and flowing red in his vision, Vivian struggled in Sylvester’s hold. Her eyes glowed, fear permeating her expression, caused by all the pain he suffered.
He had never hated the way he hated now. Hated the leader of the vampire coven who forced him to choose because now, he knew, Garrett was aware of his connection to Vivian. Malice shimmered in his evil gaze.
“It was brought to my attention by an unlikely source,” Garrett stated. Kalen shifted against the wall and earned himself half an inch of the stake’s tip in his chest. The man hissed, fists balled at his sides. “I still do not know who exactly came to our aid, but you have crossed a forbidden line with that despicable creature.”
Vivian.
He roared as another stake pierced through his midsection, this time his lower back. It severed his spine and his legs went numb. The grip on his shoulder tightened, his bones stressed beneath the force of a vampire’s strength keeping him from falling to the ground.
Throb. Throb. Throb.
He could barely see through the tide of red. The scent of his blood sent a chill down his arms.
“Let him go!” Vivian begged.
“Vivi,” Kalen hissed.
“He is a traitor,” Garrett seethed. “Naïve youth with no boundaries. No laws. No guidance. No hope.”
Brodan drove Garrett’s point home with yet another stake through Draven’s midsection.
Draven grappled to hold onto consciousness. He knew if he gave into the blackness riding the waves of agony, he would never wake up.
He would never see his beautiful princess again.
The prophecy would be fulfilled, and he would die.
“So, Draven. Beg me for forgiveness,” Garrett demanded. “Order their deaths and you will be saved.”
Draven spit out the blood that bubbled up from his throat. He lifted his head and met Garrett’s expectant gaze with every ounce of hate he could muster.
“Go to hell,” Draven snapped, his voice wet with blood.
Garrett scowled.
Pain exploded from his chest. Light flashed behind his eyelids. The room disappeared.
And all went dark.
* * *
Agony ripped through her chest on iron claws and squeezed the life from her soul.
A scream tore up her throat and filled the house with bone-shattering grief.
Her grief.
The razor-sharp point of the stake digging mercilessly into her skin jerked away as a flurry of activity seized the electric air. Shouts. Commands. Sheriff Merrow’s booming voice. Guns. Footsteps pounding around her. Flashes of shocking bright light.
All a blur as the vision of one of the vampires delivering a fatal blow to Draven branded her mind.
She dropped to the floor beside Draven and gathered his cold body into hers. Blood stained her trembling hands as she tried to stanch the bleeding. Splitters of wood stabbed at her fingers as her mind spun with questions. What could she do? How could she reverse this? Draven couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now.
Strong yet tender hands landed on her shoulders. A sense of urgency slammed into her back.
“Vivi, we must go. Now,” Kalen said quietly, his voice taut.
“I can’t leave him.” She choked. The frightening numbness that fell over her buckled when she spoke.
Kalen tugged her shoulders. “Now, Vivi.”
“No,” she moaned.
Kalen growled. She went airborne a moment later, her body bouncing as her belly folded over Kalen’s shoulder.
He whisked her out of the house as she kicked and thrashed and punched at his back. She screamed into the night.
No sooner had they reached Kalen’s car than a blast of gold- and blue-laced light blew out the windows of the house in a cacophony of shattering noise and soul-splitting shrieks.
Kalen dropped Vivian to her feet, gathered her close, and held her tightly in his embrace, his back to the house. Shards of glass plinked across the pavement around them and bounced off their clothes.
An eerie calmed settled over the night. Kalen loosened his hold on her to glance over his shoulder. Vivian braced herself for her worst nightmare.
Finality.
Sheriff Merrow had the three vampires cuffed and was leading them down to the numerous patrol cars blocking the road as they fought the werewolves holding them. Another officer aided Draven’s vampire friend across the yard, the stake no longer embedded in his chest.
Hugh stalked out of the house with a middle-aged woman beside him. The woman was a stranger to Vivian. She walked with purpose and confidence, or maybe it was severity. Either way, the woman’s being pulsed with unseen power. She held a wooden box between her hands.
When the woman swung her gaze to Kalen and Vivian, the sternness of her expression softened.
Hugh murmured something to the woman before leading her toward Kalen’s car. Vivian stiffened as they approached.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about them again,” Hugh said, stopping to stand beside them. He motioned to the woman. “This is Alice Bishop. She’s the coven leader for the local witches, and one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever known. Fawn tipped me off late last night and I asked Alice for her help.”
Vivian glanced at the box in Alice’s hands.
“Their powers. They possess no more strength or power than a human now, and will live eternally in this state.”
“It’s a brutal punishment for the undead,” Hugh assured them.
Vivian stared. She listened to the words, but they didn’t register. Cold. Numb. That’s all she knew. Her legs moved, pulled by their own accord. Kalen’s hands slid away from her, releasing her to the inevitable. The night faded at her back, leaving nothing more than a shell of herself to move silently up the glass-dotted yard to the equally silent house.
It wasn’t until she stood in the spot she had last held Draven that she fell to her knees. Dead. That’s how she felt. Dead. Like her charming soul mate.
She drew her hands through the wisps of what remained of Draven. Ribbons of ash and the weapons that stole him from her life.
Dead.
Along with any flickering spark of hope.
Chapter Nineteen
One week later
“Don’t you look magnificent!” Delaney greeted them in the entryway into the ballroom. Vivian accepted her hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek before stepping aside so Fawn could receive a similar greeting. She looked around the ballroom, distantly fascinated by the degree of elegance in the decorations. Since losing Draven, nothing really touched her.
Pumpkins, hay, dozens upon dozens of exuberant and exotic floral bouquets. Tables lined with black and orange linens. Candlelight dancing over crystal and diamonds. The tiers of hors d’oeuvres and the spreads of fancy catered platters tempted her taste buds.
It was apparent not a cent had been spared on details, decorations, or the food. The ballroom was filled with Fawn’s closes friends from Nocturne Falls. Friends who waved or approached with warm greetings.
Not a single friend could hide the glint of sympathy for Vivi
an behind their smiles and beaming expressions.
She would have stayed home had Fawn and Kalen not insisted she join them. She did so, against her better judgment. She didn’t have the energy to argue. The wound to her heart was too raw, her pain too strong. At any moment, she feared she’d break down in tears.
One week. One week since Draven was killed.
One week since her hope threatened to abandon her. Only Nalia’s words fed her the strength to grapple for the tattered ends of that hope. If she were bound to a life of suffering to deliver hope to others, then she would find some happiness in her pain.
Such a twisted way of thinking.
Hugh approached with Sheriff Merrow and his wife, Ivy. He graced her with a gentle hug. Ivy’s embrace made up for the lack of fierceness in Hugh’s. Vivian had to fight back the tears that sprang to her eyes.
“It’s wonderful to see you here, Vivi. And you look marvelous. That blue dress was made for you,” Ivy said quietly, close to her ear. She leaned back and smiled sadly. “Gorgeous, as always.”
Vivian nodded. It was all she could do not to break out in sobs.
“I thought Jackson was coming,” Hugh said to Fawn.
“He’s fumbling around at home. He’ll be here soon,” Fawn assured. “He’s bringing a date.”
Hugh’s brows rose. “A date? Well, this should be an interesting night, then.”
Vivian turned toward the entrance when she heard a familiar voice. As if summoned, Jackson appeared in the doorway, rosy cheeked and nervously playing with the jacket hem of his black tux. She felt an involuntary pull of her lips when her focus shifted to Sophia standing beside him, dressed in a beautiful black and orange gown. She was a sight to behold with her pale skin, raven-black hair, and blue eyes. Eyes that hung on Jackson with admiration. Her time in the Celestial world had provided her with a temporary healing of her artificial light ailment.
Just as the exchange between Draven and I cured me of the darkness, only to leave me desolate.
Her throat knotted. She turned away, ashamed that she couldn’t bear the sight of Sophia. The young woman resembled Draven far too much for Vivian’s spirit to process.
“I’m going to grab some punch,” Vivian said to Kalen, heading to the drink table before he could question her.
The night wore on, and so did the grief, scraping away at the facade she set in place. Only a handful of their friends knew the significance of Draven’s loss, providing a bit of an odd reprieve. She couldn’t bear it if everyone in attendance pitied her. She declined a few offers to dance, including one from her brother. She tried to placate his worry by forcing down something called caviar, and force she had to do. It tasted terrible, and she doubted it had anything to do with her churning stomach and lack of appetite.
This was turning into a torture worse than anything she suffered at the lab.
The dinner bell rang, signaling the formal sit-down meal.
There was no way she would suffer through more food, more talk, and more feigned happiness.
“Kalen,” she said quietly after locating her brother in the crowd. He turned to her, his gaze warm. “I’m going to leave. I’m tired.”
He drew his fingers down her cheek in his normal brotherly fashion. “Are you certain?”
She caught his hand and kissed his fingertips. “I am. You and Fawn enjoy the rest of the evening and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She nodded toward Jackson and Sophia. “They’re really cute together.”
Kalen didn’t say a word, only kissed her forehead and watched her leave. She waited for her coat in the entryway as guests moved around her, coming and going. The valet arrived with the garment. She thanked him and gave him a tip, then headed toward the front door.
“Let me help you with that.”
Vivian ignored the offer, and the familiarity of the voice. Her mind had been merciless in its tricks the last week.
“It’s cold outside.”
Vivian let out an exasperated breath and glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the phantom voice.
Her heart stopped.
The image of Draven dressed in a tux glided toward her in a manner that mimicked his grace and agility all too well.
She looked away and squeezed her eyes shut against the rush of hope and tears.
Cruel, cruel joke.
She hustled toward the door.
The torturous vision of Draven appeared in front of her, catching her arm in a tender grip that sent a flood of tingling heat over her skin.
“I couldn’t help but find myself captivated by the angel in the blue dress among all the black and orange. You stood out like a goddess.”
The charm. Oh, sweet gods, the charm. And that grin. The spark in his eyes.
The heat.
He leaned close. “I hope you aren’t here with anyone. I would love to ask for a dance, Miss…?”
Vivian’s chin quivered as he drew a finger over her cheek. She couldn’t find the words.
“You’re dead,” she whispered. Her voice cracked.
The phantom Draven’s grin grew. He leaned closer still, until his lips touched her ear and rocked every doubt from her mind. “I should be dead, but you saved me, love.”
She jerked back. “Draven?”
He fit one palm against her cheek, lifting her chin with the fingertips of his other. “I don’t think this world could handle two of me.”
“But…but…” The tears broke through the gate and trekked down her cheeks. Her world spun on an unnatural axis.
Draven drew her close, brushing his lips over her cheeks, capturing her tears with soft, airy kisses. There was nothing incorporeal about him. Nothing, from the hand on her cheek to the hard chest beneath her knuckles as she gripped the lapels of his jacket and held tight.
“Sweet, beautiful Vivian.” He let out a fierce breath before drawing her against him. Oh, his delicious scent filled her nostrils, feeding her a dangerous promise that this was not a dream. Not a cruel creation of her grief-stricken imagination. “My precious love.”
“How is this possible?”
I will not collapse. I will not lose control.
“I guess Nalia believes I’m worthy of being your soul mate. I woke up in the Celestial plane. She told me my survival, and your cure, had to do with our blood exchange. And her fondness of our bond.” He sighed and nuzzled her neck. “You’re my goddess, Vivian. You rule me in every way possible. Your fae blood is superior to any vampire blood. Essentially, my drinking from you kept me alive.”
“You didn’t die.”
A powerful revelation.
When Vivian finally looked up into Draven’s very real and alive and beautiful face, she laughed and threw her arms around his neck. He groaned, his arms tightening around her waist and lifting her feet from the ground.
In that instant of their reunion, she caught a faint shimmer of golden light out in the yard. The gleaming silhouette of a woman. Of Nalia.
Her aunt smiled, her form fluttering like a sheet in the breeze. Vivian mouthed, “Thank you” as the apparition faded into the night.
“You weren’t planning on leaving the ball so early, were you? I hear this event is catered by one of the top chefs. Directly from France,” Draven murmured as he nuzzled her hair. “Mmm. J’ai faim, ma belle déese.”
“I think I’ve tired of the ball.” She leaned back and smiled at Draven. “But the night is still young. We’re both dressed for a night out. And I believe there is much to be celebrated.”
“Most certainly. I think I have the perfect place in mind.”
“Oh yeah?”
Draven smiled mischievously. “Your brother isn’t around to dissuade you from riding on the back of my new bike in a dress. What do you say?”
How could she pass up a ride on a bike, wrapped close to Draven?
Draven.
Alive.
Oh, and that kiss he shared before pulling her by the hand to the end of the driveway.
The night belonged
to them beneath the shimmer of stars and glow of the waning moon. The chilly fall air couldn’t penetrate the heat that flowed between them.
Nothing could dampen the thrill of the ride, the night, proof of miracles and the drive of hope.
Draven brought them to the overlook, where he parked the bike and cut the engine. Tonight, they were alone. No other cars. Only the glowing show of lights from far below and the promise of forever above.
Draven climbed off the bike and helped her gather the silk of her blue floor-length gown. He spun her beneath his arm as her toes touched down on the ground, then pulled her close and began leading her in a dance to an unknown song.
“It will take more than a few stakes through my skin to rid you of me, love. You’ve laid claim to me, and I won’t ever leave you,” Draven murmured, swaying her slowly. “All you have to do is say the word.”
“And what word is that?”
His hand slipped low on her back. “Yes.”
She looked at him, melting beneath his charming smile. Her heart sputtered. “What is your question?”
“Be mine, Vivian Hawkins. Forever and ever. Say you’ll be my everything. My wife, my queen, my goddess.” His smile faded beneath the sincerity in his words. “My breath. My blood. My life.”
She didn’t want tears, but the ones that stung her eyes now were those of fulfillment. “Yes, my charming vampire. Yes, yes, and yes until I can say it no more.” She pushed up on her toes, tipped her head and let her lips linger on his. “I love you, Draven Lourdes. I love everything about you. Just don’t you ever almost die on me again.”
He chuckled. “I don’t plan on it. I have no intention of leaving the only woman I will ever love.”
And he sealed that promise with a deep kiss that filled her with all the hope the universe could offer.
THE END