by K. A Knight
He meets my eyes then, watching me curiously.
“We become what we had to in order to survive. I’m not sorry about that. I’m not sorry I enjoy blood and pain and death. I’m not even sorry I want to kill, to bathe in blood and sex. I want to feed, I want to watch you sink those fangs into me as I take you into my body. I won’t apologise for what I am.”
He sucks in a breath at my declaration, his pupils blown as his fangs elongate.
“Don’t ever feel ashamed about what you are. Our lives were ripped away from us and replaced with this darkness, this new cruel and dark world, but I refuse to be a fucking victim ever again. You are a warrior, a fighter, so goddamn strong. Don’t break now, I can see you cracking, embrace that darkness. Show the world who you are, and I promise you that you won’t ever walk alone again. I’m here, we’re here, others like us. Survivors, fighters, we are damaged and reassembled stronger than before to become the monster of our own stories, not the hero. I don’t need a fucking hero, I need a partner. You, you need to feed, get your strength back. If you remember who you are, good, if not, start again. You are resilient enough. Don’t let them break you, use it. Use that hate, that pain and rage. Make it yours.”
He licks his cracked lips, watching me now. “I remember snippets...the things I did...they should horrify me, but they don’t. I revelled in blood, spiked heads, and hung them as decorations as warnings to my enemies. I ripped through thousands of soldiers like paper and laughed as blood rained from the trees…”
I inhale sharply at that, not in disgust…but need. Fuck, like I said, I’m messed up.
“I don’t fear what I am, but what I was...I fear that I don’t care. Does that make sense?”
I nod. “Of course, but fear has no place in our world. In private? Yes. But we are survivors, and right now we’re in a cell and we need to get out. Make them pay for what they have done. After…after we can worry about everything else.”
“Okay,” he replies calmly, lifting his head. I can see him now, how he will be, so strong with his head tilted back in defiance, blood in his wake as he walks through death and laughs. The image makes me shiver and clench my legs together. He reminds me very much of the films about Dracula I used to watch as a kid, so formidable, and the spiked head thing? Was he a rip-off or were they? Or maybe the stories of Vlad the Impaler are just a mixture of legends, I can’t be sure. Did they base those stories on the vampire before me? It makes me wonder how old he is and just how powerful he will be...
“For that, you need to feed,” I remind him. Deciding to circumvent his argument, I sharpen my nails and slash them across my wrist so blood wells. The ruby red is stark against my pale skin, and I watch him with mild interest as it drips down my arm, the cut deep and wide, and then I look up at the vampire to see him straining to get to me. That’s better.
“Feed,” I demand, and get to my feet. “I need you. Let me save you the way you saved me.”
I fly to my car, change back into my human form, and get back in, starting the engine and heading back the way I came—to the witches. I wonder what I will owe them now, but it is worth it to save my mate. I would do it and worse.
A buzzing comes and I realise my phone is ringing, so I snatch it from the passenger seat as it goes off, making me grumble. I spot the many notifications as it starts to ring, Jean Paul’s name coming up. I swipe to accept it.
“Hello?” I call, driving as I do.
I can hear him speaking in a tiny voice, so I glance down at the phone. “Fucking machines hate me. I can’t hear you, speak up!” I scream, and I hear miniature laughter. Pulling over, I put it to my ear to hear him still laughing.
“Sire, press the speaker button.” I move the phone away and examine it, pushing buttons while I swear until I finally hear him speaking loudly.
“Magic.” I sigh. “Jean Paul, is everything okay?”
“Yes, sire, I wanted to check on you. Have you found your mate?” he asks, and I sigh.
“Not yet, there are some complications, nothing I can’t handle. How is everything there?”
“All fine, sire…” He trails off, and I can hear something in his voice which makes me grip the wheel tighter.
“Jean Paul,” I command.
“I didn’t want to tell you...I have heard some rumours, a rumbling if you will,” he hedges and sighs. “There has been another dragon sighting, not far from the town you stopped in for the night.”
“You think he is coming for me?” I frown. Why would a dragon be here? We don’t leave the realm…well, they don’t.
“I don’t know, sire, I couldn’t say. He was last spotted there about fifty minutes from the boat you went to and hasn’t been seen since. Would you like me to send you the location?”
“Yes,” I reply distractedly.
“Very good. Good luck, sire, ring me if you need anything else.” I hang up and toss the phone away. A dragon here...now? It’s too big of a coincidence, it has to be for me. I can’t lead them to Dawn, so as much as I hate it, I will have to see what he wants before I find the sleeping council.
I pull back onto the road, rolling down my window and roaring at someone as they honk their horn and flip me off. They soon drive away, speeding no doubt. Sheep.
I restart my journey back to the witches. I will stop after and find the dragon. I just hope it doesn’t take too long and that my mate doesn’t need me in the meantime. I am feeling antsy to meet her in reality now.
I find their location with ease this time, not needing the little phone magician to direct me, thank God. It does take a few hours though, and when I step back onto the ship, I shiver at the feeling that passes over me. Something, or someone, is here. I debate waiting until they leave, but Dawn needs me, so I go inside anyway. Luckily, it leads me to where they are.
I stop when I see them. All three witches turn to face me, but that isn’t what makes my blood cold, it is the men...or more aptly ghosts, standing behind them.
Ghosts are usually sad, mopey bastards left in this world after a tragic death, or when someone still clings to the living, they stay here, stuck between worlds. Over time they seem to fade unless they feed on power, then they can even move objects and that’s how rumours of hauntings come around, some even possess people…but these? These don’t look like any ghosts I have ever seen. Of course I haven’t seen many, they are miserable bastards and keep mostly to their selves, but these men? These ghosts?
They are something different…I can sense their power, their age from here, and when their gazes focus on me, my dragon roars to the forefront of my mind to try and protect me from their unnaturalness. I can feel it now, the witches’ power flowing through them, keeping them here and strong and almost human.
If it wasn’t for the slightly grey pallor of their skin, and the mist seeming to surround them, I wouldn’t even know what they were. Loxley steps forward first. “Dragon, did we not give you what you seek?”
My eyes track the three male ghosts. One is really tall with a long, unkempt brown beard, bright green eyes, an old-style hat on his head, and a leather vest and jeans. He almost looks like a cowboy. The second is smaller and leaner, wearing what looks like a tux and a top hat, his lips curled up in a sneer, his eyes showing such rage and hate. The third? He appears normal, but his eyes…I shiver from the look, the intelligence, and just what I see there, as if I stare too long I might not come back out alive. He is wearing jeans and a shirt, and his brown hair is swept back to reveal a boyish face. He is almost unforgettable and disarming, but I know better.
Chloe is next, watching me closely. “Dragon, you seek something else now, something much more dangerous…”
“He does,” Mercy concludes. I watch the ghosts encircle them.
The cowboy stands with Mercy, the brown-haired, normal one with Chloe, and the sneering one with Loxley.
“We told you one day you would meet our men, but this is sooner than expected, yet you need them, don’t you?” Loxley inquires, her eyes far
away as her hand goes out to stroke the man at her side, but he slaps it away and grabs her neck, dragging her closer. She sucks in a breath, wearing a grin on her face as he controls her movements.
“What does he seek, sisters?” Mercy whispers, coming to circle around me, her cowboy trailing after her. The cold gust of wind from him nearly knocks me back, so I snarl and he laughs, stepping away.
“I need the sleeping council’s location,” I declare, wanting to be gone from this place as quickly as I can. These men are not natural or sane, I can feel it. The hate they carry fuels them, yet the witches seem to thrive on it.
“That will cost you,” Chloe tells me, leaning against her man who wraps his arm around her, watching me closely.
“I will pay it, whatever it is,” I reply straightaway, knowing I will do anything for Dawn.
They glance at each other and have some form of silent communication before all looking at me and speaking at the same time. “You are powerful, the cost is high. Let our men feed on you and we will get you the location.”
“Witches,” I hiss, and they ignore me.
“Not enough to drain you or make you weak, a taste is all,” Mercy clarifies.
“That means they will be able to track me anywhere in the world, forever,” I counter, and they grin, knowing that. I debate my options, but what choice do I have? I need that location. They must sense my hesitation though.
“They will not harm you, dragon, they are loyal to us, but we need to be paid. Finding the location will not be easy for them.”
“Them?” I repeat, confused, and Loxley nods.
“They will find it. Only the dead can walk among the sleeping court and survive.”
Grinding my teeth, I jerk my head in a nod. “Fine, one may feed before, the others after I have my information.”
The witches grin. “Accepted.”
Chloe turns to her man and strokes his face lovingly. “Edward, my love, feed.”
The one in the tux snarls and jerks, but Loxley leans back against him and he settles down even as he glares, watching Edward coming towards me with malicious intent, his eyes alive and filled with hunger as he takes me in and the power pouring from me. It is against a dragon’s nature to share it, to share our power or let another take it or feed from it. It means we are weak, exposed, but I have no choice.
For her, I remind myself.
He steps close enough for me to feel the ice-cold touch of his form, and I have to refrain from ripping him to pieces. He flashes me a grin as if he knows my thoughts.
“This will hurt,” he informs me, seemingly happy about that before his hands dart out and grip either side of my face.
I growl as the chill penetrates my cheeks and glides into my blood, freezing the vessels and making me sluggish as it pumps through my body. He closes his eyes with a groan, his face lax in pleasure as the warmth leaks from me to him, my heat replaced by ice inside me.
“Enough,” I snarl, ripping his hands away after a few minutes. He laughs, stepping back with a stumble, drunk from the power.
“So powerful,” he whispers with wide eyes. “So filled with it, I could eat it all up.”
The other two step forward, but I narrow my gaze, my body shifting slightly until I’m larger, my scales starting to cover my arms. “Enough, dragon,” Loxley shouts, and looks at the ghosts. “Go, find the location.”
The man in the tux grips her chin harshly and kisses her. She moans and leans against him, and then suddenly he is gone, and I glance around to see the others do the same. I relax slightly when they leave and cross my arms, glaring at the witches who watch me curiously.
“Why do you need the sleeping council?” Chloe asks inquisitively.
“Enough, I have paid your price, you will not get my secrets from me,” I growl, and they titter with laughter.
“Oh, dragon, we could rip them from you if we wanted to, but we don’t. You are a friend. Did you not notice we stopped our men from stealing your soul and warmth to survive on? A little appreciation, dragon, or we will start to think we are not friends after all,” Mercy warns.
I grind my teeth, but I still need them, so I have to play nice. “Fine, thank you.’’ Each word is like glass on my tongue.
“Better.” Loxley grins. “I’m guessing it has something to do with his mate. Did you find her?”
“Not yet,” I offer and they nod.
“Soon, she has a destiny after all,” they murmur in unison. I shift, feeling annoyed and wanting to be on the road. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can find Dawn.
The witches must notice because they step closer and all focus turns to me. Their eyes hold far too much knowledge, they see too much, and it makes me wonder what they see when they look at me.
Never mind, I don’t have time, I have to get that location.
“They will be back soon, dragon, but do not be in so much haste. Are you so ready to throw your life away?” Mercy questions.
“The sleeping council is a secret for a reason. They are our most powerful brethren, well, apart from the gods. They intentionally live in solace, because they are too strong to be around us. They will kill you with nothing but a thought for going before them. What will they do to your mate? Tread carefully,” Loxley adds.
“They are locked away for a reason, dragon, do you really wish to disturb that?” Chloe challenges.
I want to say no. Dragons survive because we are smart, and this, this isn’t smart, but I am learning love makes you do crazy things.
For her I would do all the crazy, stupid things it takes to keep her with me.
He watches me with feral, hungry eyes as I step closer, not teasing him. He needs this, I need this. My breathing picks up, my heart hammering in my chest as I willingly walk towards the hungry vamp, towards the predator, but instead of fear, lust fills me. I’m almost moaning, imagining him sinking those fangs into my flesh. He sniffs the air like an animal and growls, the chains creaking as he strains to get to me.
“You smell like life, like sex and blood,” he rumbles, the words muffled and rough from his fangs as need courses through him. His tongue darts out and licks his incisors, his eyes locked on the blood on my arm. Stepping nearer, I flinch at his sudden lunge then laugh.
“Feed,” I order, and press my arm to his mouth. He groans, lapping at the blood. His tongue is rough and wet, making me shiver as I visualise it buried in my pussy, blood dripping down me from his many fang wounds.
My eyes almost shut from the feeling. His are hooded as he licks my arm, tracing around the wound, his tongue tugging at the edges, making me moan at the flash of pain and the sexual way he does it. His eyes meet mine and then suddenly, he strikes. I jolt and scream in ecstasy as he sinks his fangs into me.
He rips through my skin, and the flash of discomfort fades into pleasure like I have never felt before—so hot and sudden. I fall forward into him and he catches me, wrapping me in his deadly embrace as he carries on drinking. I rub myself against him like a cat as I close my eyes, my pussy clamping down on air, my own cream dripping down my thighs. With each draw of his mouth, it feels like he’s sucking on my clit and I can’t stand it, it’s too good, too much pleasure. He pulls back and licks the cut, watching me as he strikes, this time not feeding, just biting.
I scream yet again, the pain making me wild. He watches my reaction with my blood coating his lips and chin. “Dirty little thing, you like my fangs,” he murmurs, and I nod breathlessly.
“Yesss, do it again,” I demand, gripping his hair which seems fuller, but before I can concentrate on what my blood has done to him, he attacks. Tearing into the skin at my elbow, he throws me into an orgasm from the force of his bite, leaving me spiralling in pleasure and pain.
I jerk against him before going limp. He holds me up as he licks the bites and heals them, but the blood still covers my arms and legs, except I don’t care. I cuddle into his chest and he holds me there, cooing words in French that I have no ability to understand.
&nb
sp; “Fucking hell,” I whisper, my pussy still fluttering with aftershocks. It was one of those orgasms that rips through you, leaving you weak and tired after, but also strangely renewed. My legs are still jelly, so I let him hold me up until a noise has both our heads whipping around.
I spot the injured guard finally waking up. The vamp snarls, his fangs flashing as he grips me tighter. When the guard spots me in his embrace, he starts to laugh, the sound bitter and rattling.
“I knew you would break,” he murmurs, his skin pale, close to death.
The vamp holding me snarls as the guard chuckles, jerking in the chains as a plan forms in my head. “Let me go,” I whisper, and turn my head to lay a soft kiss on his bloody mouth. He groans, his fangs slicing my lip as he grabs my head and controls the kiss. I feel my fresh blood mix on our tongues, making us move against each other as the cut heals until I finally pull back, breathing heavily again.
I step away, turning to face the guard with an evil grin. “I’m glad you’re here,” I coo and crouch in front of him, stroking his face, ignoring the vamp’s possessive growl. “You are going to help us, aren’t you?”
He frowns at me. “You’re fucking crazy, you will die down here.”
“You’re right,” I agree and he starts to laugh again. “Partially. I am crazy, but I’m afraid it will be you doing the dying.” I yank him to me, and he screams as I start to laugh, the sound echoed by the vampire behind me.
I cover his mouth with mine as that power, the one keeping me alive, reaches out and latches on to him. He cries into my mouth, his body shuddering with the end of his fight, but he soon slumps and I jerk my head back, slurping the last of his power and shivering. Fuck, that was good.