by V L Moon
“Laziel, what the fuck is our Fallen friend refusing to tell me?” His voice thundered around the room and threatened to shatter Arial's eardrums. “Do you dare defy me Fallen? Do you dare put the mutinous ramblings of a crazed hateful sire before that of those who seek to help you find redemption?” The vampire King bit out scathingly, and the bitter contempt in his outburst was like a scalding heat across Arial's skin. The fear of declaring Darklon's plans stoked a fire in Arial's heart, one that blistered the words clogging his throat. His eyes bore into Laziel, searching in vain for a delicate way to declare Darklon's deadly intentions. At Laziel’s nod, he swallowed and spoke.
“If the Elder’s plans actually come into fruition, and he succeeds in his attempts to take your throne; it will be because Laziel is no more. His wishes are that your guardian angel be brought down before the church for dereliction of duties and cavorting with demon spawn. While that by itself will hold no sanction with the likes of the Pope or our own Creator, it will leave you alone and vulnerable to Darklon’s main attack as Laziel would be required to return to Heaven to answer the charges.” Arial drew another breath and ploughed forward.
“In disclosing his deepest desire to me, your Elder admitted that he will not be at peace until he sees you sentenced to the depths of your own prisons bound by silver and used as a blood slave for the purity of your blood and seduced by Darklon's whore's for the potency of your seed.” Breathless with fear and unwilling to meet Malachi's gaze, Arial lowered his head between the width of his broad shoulders and admitted defeat. “I’m sorry my liege to be the one to deliver such devious deeds. Forgive me.”
A hand to Arial's shoulder gripped him hard then moved to rest amidst the fall of his hair.
“Be at ease my friend. You serve your oath well, for that I am grateful.” With that, the vampire King exited the room cloaked in a shroud of vengeful silence.
Laziel’s face appeared almost vacant, until he decided to speak. The mask of Laziel's features contorted into one stricken by the absence of his chosen mate.
“Laziel, what have you done?” Arial asked. “Surely you know to bind yourself in such a way to the one you are sworn to protect is futile. Malachi is vampire, not even human, and yet you are bound by heart and soul to one that is not celestial…how?”
The heat in Laziel’s molten gaze held Arial enthralled and when the Seraphim spoke, the flippancy and sarcasm were gone.
“You do not know of what has transpired to bring us to where we find ourselves this day. Arial, my brother, Lachi is the only one of his kind, not born or made. He is unique. I see the fear in your eyes, Arial. And, in answer to that fear I tell you this. Lachi is cursed with the affliction of his anger as you are also cursed to consume the souls of demon spawn. It is a balance, the embodiment of ying and yang. When Lachi was gifted with the essence of his life, it was my essence and the breath from my own soul that created the male that he is today.” Laziel smiled almost reverently as he spoke of Malachi’s creation.
Arial blinked mouth agape from the shock of Laziel’s revelations. His breath left him in one fell swoop, and Arial slumped back against the hard wooden pew. “You were the one to gift the vampire a life? How?”
Laziel shifted, and then turned to face Arial. When he spoke, his words were whisper soft, but filled with such longing that Arial couldn't stop the flow of tears that welled and fell freely down his face.
“As the last of the Creator’s warrior elite, he granted me a gift for my loyalty to him and the heavens. When the time came, I asked of him a life. He agreed on the surmise that the life be created to rule and bring change to a cursed, violent race, and to transform their ways and morph their laws. The being was to be strong both in body and mind and gifted with such knowledge it would be easy to train. But, the soul I bore life to called to me…and, when he fell from the heavens to walk his path upon the Creator’s earth my own soul threatened to perish.”
“When the Creator bid me leave from the right hand side where I'd always been, the archangels wept. I descended to my charge. But, the Creator knew that the very moment my lips breathed life into the light of Lachi's soul, we were destined to be more. And, in answer to your question, yes we are bound, by more than just an angel's love. For I took an oath, one forged in blood, to honor, protect, love and serve. And this I will do until our last breaths stain this earth. Our scroll is testament to the pledge I made. The words of which are engrained within my own alter, written in the verse of our own Creator’s tongue.”
Laziel motioned toward the stone altar, and there, before Arial’s own eyes lay the scroll depicting the creation of life, enforced and embossed by their own Creator. The scroll itself lay inlayed within the stone, a work of art beyond that of normal craftsmanship. With Laziel's words ringing in his ears, Arial watched with tears brimming as Laziel thanked him for his time and allegiance, and then bid him a fond goodnight.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
CHAPTER SIX
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Back in their private quarters, Malachi strode straight through to the bedroom and tossed the manila envelope on the dresser. None dared enter the room he shared with Laziel so the information inside would be safe. Not knowing how long Laziel intended to converse with the Fallen, he stripped and let the clothes fall haphazardly to the floor. With the brothel out of the question, he needed a physical outlet. The rage festering inside him threatened to crash the gates of his control. Naked, he crossed through the sitting area oblivious to the plush surroundings. Truthfully, he never paid them any mind. He’d been content back in their little villa on the mountain, but Kings didn’t dwell in obscurity.
The door to the gym crashed open beneath the force of his anger. Eyes red with fury circumvented the room and landed on the punching bag hanging in the corner. Without bothering with gloves, Malachi sailed a punch into the suspended leather bag. A rain of blows followed. Malachi soon sported a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes burned with hellish flame, his fangs punched through and savaged his lower lip.
“My angel.” The powerful left hook ripped the leather. “Better. Not. Fucking. Touch. Him.” Each word ripped free of his mouth punctuated by a lethal blow to the wildly swinging bag. Arial’s words haunted him. Darklon dared to come after what he cherished most in this world. His Laziel.
The bastard had already taken Vischeral, condemned his first and only friend to an eternity of life on the run always looking over his shoulder. Now, the monstrous fuck thought to take Laziel from him as well. “Never going to fucking happen.” The right handed blow tore through the leather exposing the foam padding. Darklon’s quest for power sickened him. Females and young, dead, honorable male vampires taken before their time, warriors who battled the Nephilim to protect his sorry ass and the race from annihilation, none of them mattered to the treasonous villain. Grunts pierced the air as he worked out his frustration. Laziel’s face floated before his mind’s eye. His angel, his lover. If Darklon thought to harm one hair on the angel’s head, he’d sealed his own doom.
Darklon’s strategy contained a fatal flaw; only if Malachi lay dead at his feet would his plans ever come to fruition. How would he manage to populate the race with his stud bleeding out at his feet? Malachi snarled. Chained and raped of his seed…
“Fuck no,” Malachi growled. The evil bastard would suck his own cock first. Breath sawed in and out of his lungs as he circled the bag; savage blows threatened the strength of the chains anchoring the bag to the ceiling. The one solace in the fucked up chaos thrumming through his body, the only thing keeping him from slitting the fiend’s sorry throat was the angel.
Laziel far outmatched the Elder vampire in wit and skill. The angel’s power exceeded the bounds of human or vampire comprehension. Darklon failed to realize the futility of his plan. Together, he and Laziel were damned near invincible, and he suffered little hope of separating them. Therein lay the miniscule key to his plan. Laziel was not invulnerable; he could be killed if luck for some reason fell on Darklon’s
side. Malachi knew that if Darklon ever managed to take him, the Seraphim would rip apart Heaven and Hell to get him back, but he also knew that if forced to choose between his own life and Malachi’s life, Laziel would forsake himself to protect his vampire. Lachi knew because he would do no less for the angel he loved beyond reason.
The door swung open and Laziel swaggered in, eyes widening at Malachi’s bare glistening flesh. Malachi gave him only a second to preview his muscled frame before launching himself at the male. Just before he crashed into Laziel, he saw the gleam of battle forge in his angelic eyes. His shoulder slammed into Laziel’s gut pinning him hard against the metal door he’d just entered. Air whooshed from his lungs as powerful fists connected with his ribs on either side. Lifted off his feet by immense strength, Malachi face planted on the mat driven there by Laziel’s might.
The angel’s heavy weight landed astride his waist knees to either side of his ribs. Fingers tunneled into his hair and yanked torqueing his head so far back he struggled to breathe. Malachi did the only thing he could; he rolled throwing Laziel off of him and surged to his feet.
Only a few paces away, Laziel flipped from his back to his feet a wicked smile on his beautiful face. “Pissed off are you?” The Seraphim taunted. “I thought you might be. You know how much your temper turns me on.”
Deliberately, Laziel ran a hand down over the bulge in his low riding, unfastened jeans. Malachi licked his lips tasting the blood from his ripped to shit bottom lip. Ordinarily, the offer would have seen the two of them sprinting for the bedroom, but tonight, Malachi needed the physical abuse. “Later, if I can move. I need to fight, I need bloodshed. Mine or yours. Doesn’t matter.”
Laziel cocked a brow and smirked. “Just remember you asked for this vampire.” The angel dropped into a crouch. They circled each other well aware of the other’s strengths and weaknesses. Malachi blinked the sweat from his eyes and the angel leapt. Punches and kicks rained down upon Malachi’s flesh. The sharp slap of fists and feet against flesh accompanied the shattering crunch of knuckles against bone. Curses flew and blood leaked until Malachi and Laziel lay side by side and breathless across the slickened mats. “Shower?” Malachi managed to gasp as he struggled to draw oxygen into laboring lungs.
“I’d race ya, but,” Laziel’s halfhearted attempt at humor fell flat; they were both too exhausted to even contemplate a race.
“You win; I think I need another minute.” Malachi closed his eyes and concentrated on the slow in and out of air through his nose, a broken one if he had to guess. When he opened them again, the angel was gone, only the sweat outline of his body remaining on the mat.
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Laziel’s muscles cramped and twisted into knots of welcomed pain, adding to the aching misery of his well...pummeled flesh. His heavily bruised body shone with a layer of heavenly glistening sweat that dripped down the column of his spine forging a small rivulet that gently rolled toward the small of his back. The session with Malachi had been rigorously brutal leaving himself and the King bleeding, battered and bruised. The walk...in multi...head shower held a deathly silence; the only discernible noise…the heavy thud of the vampire's heartbeat slamming in his chest.
Laziel’s eyes widened, the pupils expanding as he soaked up the powerhouse frame of immense muscle adorning Lachi's glorious body. Damn, the guy was huge. Every inch of him packed tight with hard bunched muscle that moved and flexed with every miniscule movement of his body; a body Laziel ardently craved. Closing his eyes briefly, Laziel reined in thoughts of his Achilles’ heel…on Malachi Denali.
For over four hundred years, he’d been Lachi's only personal guard. The one being that kept a constant twenty...four hour vigil over the person, or rather, vampire that owned a lot more than the celestial heart beating in his chest. Bonded at Lachi’s creation by an oath forged by breath and blood, Laziel swore to protect and serve the vampire, foretold in the scripture of the Creator, to be King. Scripture Laziel owned to this day even though it had never been read. Laziel had no need to read what he already knew.
Before Lachi ever came into being, Laziel knew his calling, a joining of angel and vampire, one born of light the other created of blood, both bound eternally together in a fight to save a race burdened by the decree of death. A death that if served on either one of them would kill them both, so was the tie that bound them.
Billowing steam filled the marble shower room. The stinging spray of hot water brought Laziel firmly back into the here and now. Lachi stood shadowed by the clouds of steam, his body gleaming, and covered in soap suds that taunted Laziel as they snaked south to curve then spill over the globes of Lachi’s gorgeous ass. Laziel’s cock hardened in response. The bruising over his vampire's ribs was already firmly in place which was more than Laziel could say for Lachi's nose and a few disfigured digits.
Placing two hands against the smooth, cool tiles, Laziel bowed his head between the width of his shoulders and let the blistering spray pound against the tightly packed muscles where his wings hid. All Laziel wished for, hungered for, stood not twelve inches away. Laziel needed only to reach out and touch. Breathing hard to control the feminine urge rising inside, Laziel quashed the fetid tide of hungered desire and stood directly beneath the searing hot spray, hoping the scalding burn would somehow dampen the wanton desire firing in his veins. No such luck.
Malachi's hand slid up over the taut frame of his back and sent a flare of burning need shooting through every tensed up nerve already calling for his male. His body sang with the celestial song born of need and love.
“Laz?” His name on Lachi's lips more of a question than a calling. Trembling, Laziel gulped, the audible exhalation hidden by the explosion of an expressive, long sigh. Laziel ground his teeth and fought the urge to let his gaze wander over the well muscled extremities of Lachi's magnificent body. He lifted his gaze and met the stare of the male he’d vowed to protect. The hunger in those onyx depths mirrored the mutual desire residing in Laziel. Lachi's eyes lingered on the only true gift of love he would allow Laziel to freely give…his vein.
Reaching up, he placed a warm, wet hand to the smooth contours of Lachi's face. Laziel’s eyes burned with the power of his adoration for the male; the intensity of his emotions made Laziel’s heart squeeze painfully. “I will wait for you in the library.”
No more words were exchanged. With head bowed, Laziel retreated through the stinging bank of boiling steam to await the hungered blissful bite that would grant the angel a release of torturous bliss.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The entire length of his bulky frame throbbed as Malachi walked from the locker room to the shower area. Fresh bruises decorated his flesh and dried blood flaked off falling to the floor. He grinned despite the aches and pains. Per usual, Laziel had given him a true work out. Malachi relished their sparring matches. They reminded him of his childhood spent in constant training with the Elite Guardian. Even more than the sparring, Malachi looked forward to the down time afterward.
With Laziel, he could be himself. He didn't have to divide his attention among myriad other things or keep his guard up. The added benefit, he had the angel all to himself and no worries weighed on them. From his first memories, Laz had been Malachi's constant companion, mother, father, teacher, mentor and friend. He loved the celestial as he loved no other; trusted Laziel beyond words. When he’d taken the throne, by force, their lives became more chaotic as duties and pressures pulled them in a hundred different directions. Though Laz very rarely left his side, almost always a menacing presence over his shoulder, there was little opportunity for relaxation. The matches provided one such space of time.
Only one other occasion afforded them the same privacy as their matches: the feedings. Malachi fed only from the angel. At first, he did so at Laziel's insistence, but now, Malachi wanted no other. He knew other vampires drank from various sources some of them in a single night. He didn't understand them. When he craved, he craved Laziel's blood. As if conjured by his
thoughts, a powerful pang of hunger knotted his insides.
“Well hell, Lachi,” he cursed himself, using the angel’s shortened form of his name. The shower would have to be quick. Reaching the doorway of the shower, Malachi met a swirling cloud of steam that ebbed and flowed as if breathing. Evidence Laziel had beaten him to the hot water. Gliding through the mist, Malachi moved unerringly in the direction of his lover. Their blood bond practically lit the way to where the angel lathered up to wash off the sweat their workout raised. Snagging a bar of soap, Malachi stepped under the nearest nozzle and set to work ridding himself of the grime and gore.
Another pain stabbed through his abdomen making him curse under his breath. The strength of his hunger reminded him he'd waited too long. Again. Once awakened the blood lust only grew worse, paining him until assuaged. He replaced the soap and stepped toward Laziel without bothering to rinse. As he neared the angel, the intoxicating scent of Laz's blood stirred the hunger writhing in Malachi's gut.
Raising his hand, he trailed it up the wet skin of the celestial’s back. His mind registered the silky feel of Laziel’s flesh and the steel strength of the muscle underneath. With concentrated effort, he reigned in the sensual side of his nature, and uttered Laz's name. It only took a look for the angel to know what Lachi needed from him. Something flitted in the angel's eyes. Pain? Before Malachi could ask, Laziel informed him that the feeding would be in the library then disappeared into the steam.
Under the spray once again, Malachi rinsed the soap away and gave his hair a cursory wash. Worry for Laziel now warred with the hunger. Hurrying from the shower, he wrapped a towel around his lean hips, but the dressing room was empty. With a soft curse, Malachi flung himself through the ether directly to their bedroom. Another empty room. Quickly, he exchanged the towel for a black silk robe, and strode into the library.