Immortal Skye (Vampire Mates)

by K. L. Bone

  “You’re handing me over to be raped, Father. You comprehend this?” Julia remained still as her father approached, reaching the last step before moving across the floor, his blue cloak trailing several steps behind.

  When he reached her, he moved a hand to cup her cheek, the gesture disturbingly soft given his proclamation. “Julia, you must learn your place within the family into which you were born.”

  “Please, Father, don’t force me to do this.”

  “You were born to do this, Julia. To honor your family, and advance your bloodline. You have been allowed to avoid such duties for far too long.”

  In a voice barely audible, she whispered, “Athair, please, don’t.”

  Closing her eyes, her father continued to caress her cheek, fingertips running along porcelain skin. Leaning into the touch, Julia leaned moved her head to her father’s shoulder. Surprised at her surrender, Lord Skye ran his hands through the long tresses of her golden hair, fingers tracing down her back. She pressed closer at the touch.

  “There, there, child. You have wandered far, but now you are home, back upon this isle where you belong. We shall set right your sins, and you will return to your proper place as an obedient daughter of Skye.”

  “Athair,” she again whispered, “I’m your daughter.”

  “Yes, my good child. One who will make right these wrongs committed against your pure-blood line, and restore our noble name.”

  She sagged, her weight falling against him in defeat. He wrapped a second arm around her to support her weight as she raised an arm around his neck.

  “It will be all right, you’ll see.”

  Looking up, she parted her lips, but did not speak. Straightening, Julia pressed her lips to the side of Skye’s neck, and promptly slid her fangs deep into her father’s throat.

  Chapter XV

  Present Day

  Isle of Skye, Scotland

  Unprepared, Lord Skye let out only a deep grunt as his daughter’s fangs forced their way through the layers of his skin, savagely tearing flesh to rip into the veins below. She was rough in her treatment, arms encircling the vampire lord’s neck with all her preternatural strength. Before he could react, she extracted her fangs, only to bite down a second time, jerking her mouth back and forth, causing blood to spray and splatter, tearing his skin in rough, jagged cuts.

  Gurgling, her father struggled to move Julia away from him, but his efforts became ineffectual, blood loss taking its toll. His daughter gorged upon his immortal blood.

  Lucas and Rónán reacted faster than her father’s stunned men.

  Having already unsheathed their blades, Lucas and Rónán rushed the other men, neither hesitating as they engaged their foes. Reaching the first of the bodyguards before they could react, Lucas wasted no time in driving a blade deep into the closest vampire knight’s chest. Twisting the blade, the silver tip burned ancient flesh, perfuming the room with a foul stench as the impaled man howled in pain.

  His opponent collapsing to the floor, Lucas turned toward the second of four men he faced, thrusting his blade to the man’s right. Skye’s guard reacted in the nick of time, drawing his own sword to clash against Lucas’, engaging him while two others circled around. Rónán similarly faced-off with his own quartet of guardsmen.

  Fangs still buried deep in her father’s throat, Julia lowered the weakening lord to the floor. When his thrashing stilled to mere twitches, Julia raised her head, the sound of clashing steel echoing through the chamber.

  Rónán and Lucas were on opposite sides of the room, each engaged with one of her father’s personal guardsmen. The swords swiped up and down, each man struggling to gain the advantage. While faster than mortal eyes would have been able to follow, the attacks were precise in their expertise.

  Scanning the room, Julia almost missed Marcus’ approach on her left side. Throwing herself to the right, she rolled across the floor to narrowly escape the intended attack, his sword’s tip colliding with stone.

  Julia scrambled in the direction of the collapsed guard Lucas had first defeated, extracting his blade from slackened fingers, raiding the weapon in time to stop Marcus’ next attack. Blades crossed above her, Marcus’ weight pushed her down, her arms trembling as he pressed the sword closer to her sprawled form.

  Raising a leg, she kicked him center-chest, pushing Marcus up, and rolled into a crouch as Marcus attempted to regain balance.

  Now on her feet, Julia stood across from Marcus, testing the weight of the unfamiliar blade, relieved to find it similar to those she occasionally carried. A specialized weapon, steel laced with lethal silver, remained among the few ways to end a vampiric life.

  Marcus snarled, fangs flashing as he growled, “You’re going to die for this, Julia! You attacked your own father, and now a second member of the Black family.”

  “You’re the one who shall pay, Marcus. The Black reign has come to a close. I won’t be a pawn to the pure-blood lines.”

  Marcus lunged.

  She swung left, blade out, forcing the taller man to step back.

  Julia thrust again, using her preternatural strength to force Marcus back additional paces as she swung left, then right, her blade flashing through the air.

  Side-stepping her, Marcus managed to escape her onslaught for the space of a breath, readjusting his grip on the blade’s leather-encased hilt, which prevented the silver from burning his skin. Swinging, he aimed his blade’s tip toward the center of Julia’s chest.

  She jumped back, the sharp edge missing her skin by inches.

  Marcus thrust again, his weapon slicing toward Julia’s left.

  She parried, knocking aside the intended attack.

  Stepping back enough to adjust her own grip, Julia’s vision centered on the man before her, watching each shift of his weight as he considered his next movement, then lurched forward, dropping a knee toward the ground to swipe low at Julia’s legs.

  Jerking back, she hissed as the sharp edge grazed her left leg, causing both a stinging pain and a burning sensation as the toxic silver sizzled her flesh.

  With a pained grunt, Julia managed to compose herself, bringing her blade high to crash down upon Marcus in his kneeling position. The vampire lord raised his own sword, managing to stop her initial strike, but found himself trapped in place as Julia’s steel pressed upon his, her weight bearing down.

  Arms trembling under the strain, the vampire lord held his weapon against hers, before jerking right. The motion threw Julia off-balance, blade plunging toward the ground, but slicing down Marcus’ arm in the process. His sharp cry rang out alongside the clang of Julia’s sword colliding with stone.

  Her shoulder and hand throbbing from the impact, Julia managed to pull back as Marcus regained his feet, rising to stand, blood trailing from his arm as blisters formed along his skin.

  With Marcus struggling to hold his blade, Julia had a slight advantage.

  Lunging forward, Julia swung her blade toward his right. Marcus moved to stop her, but not before the vampiress dropped to her knees, thrusting her blade up to slide deep into Black’s stomach.

  With a sharp cry, Black’s sword clattered to the floor. Julia thrust her blade left, still inside the vampire’s stomach, slicing him open, drawing an agonized scream along with the stench of burning flesh.

  Drawing back, Julia kicked Marcus’ weapon to the side, watching it skip along stone before glancing up, relief filling her as she saw Rónán and Lucas had won their respective fights, though blood stained Lucas’ left arm.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s not deep,” Lucas assured.

  Gazing across the room, Julia walked toward where her father lay upon the stairs, hand clutching his throat which, though still partially open, was already beginning to mend.

  His voice was gargled and low, difficult to decipher, yet as Julia knelt down, she could still hear. “Ungrateful bitch!”

  “Now, Father, we don’t use such language within these halls.”

&
nbsp; “You will be banished for this, Julia.”

  “I’ll make do, Father. I’ve learned how to take care of myself.”

  She stared, her eyes as cold as his had ever been. “You stated that in order to be free I would have to return the life of pure-blood vampire. How about yours, Father?” She turned to where Marcus lay, writhing on the floor, hands attempting to hold the contents of his stomach inside his flesh. “Or how about him? Would the spared life of Marcus Black be enough, in exchange for what I seek?”

  “And what is that?”

  “You know what I desire. You’ve always known.”

  He met her gaze, and for an instant, she feared he would refuse her. That she would be forced to kill him, this man whom, despite all he had done, remained her lord and father. Then he raised a hand, shaking from blood loss, to her mother’s star pendant.

  Following his hand, she wrapped her own around the keepsake she’d worn since she was a young woman.

  “Left corner of the room,” he stated. “Touch the third stone.”

  “The third stone?” She paused fingering the necklace.

  “Third,” he repeated, his voice so weak she had to lean closer to hear.

  Standing, Julia walked toward the indicated corner. Kneeling, she examined the ancient stone wall, running a finger along the surface until she found a star-shaped indentation.

  By the gods, she wondered silently. Have I had the key all this time?

  Removing the chain from around her neck, Julia pressed the pendant into its matching groove. A loud groan followed, the ancient compartment protesting its opening after centuries of remaining closed. Reaching a hand inside, she found a mound of cloth, dust and web covered, much of the material eaten away by time and pests.

  Gingerly pulling it forth, Julia unwrapped the ruined scraps until she found what the fabric had shielded. Spying the pristine seal skin, her hands trembled as her fingers moved to touch the pelt.

  “Leave us,” her voice rang through the room. “Take the wounded, see to them, but leave me alone with my father.”

  “Julia,” Rónán’s voice reached her, “I can’t do that.”

  “I must speak with him alone.”

  “Julia—”

  “Please, Rónán.”

  At the second plea, Rónán relented. “Okay, my lady. I’ll be right outside.”

  Listening to fading footsteps, Julia remained still until the room quieted. Only then did she rise, carrying Rónán’s pelt back to where her father lay.

  When she reached him, she knelt down to meet his ice-blue eyes. “I had the key the whole time.”

  “Yes,” he croaked. “A selkie must protect the one who holds the key to its freedom.”

  “Your mother’s last act was to hand me this pendant,” Rónán’s words returned to her from long ago. “She could not speak, but I believe, in my heart, she intended me to convey this token to you.”

  “Mother wasn’t trying to give me the necklace,” Julia verbalized the realization. “She gave it to Rónán. Mother wanted to set him free.”

  “Yes,” her father answered. “A twist of fate, is it not? Your mother hands Rónán the key to his freedom, and he gifts it willingly to you.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “How could you not tell me?”

  “And risk you both leaving?”

  “What if I had misplaced it? Lost it on some voyage? Had it taken by Caleb?” Her stomach churned at the thought. “Rónán saved my life, and in return, you held him in perpetual captivity, allowing me to leave ignorant of the fact that I had the only key.”

  “Julia—”

  “What you did is unforgivable!” Anger ignited her words as she added the declaration, “When I leave this isle, Father, I shall never return.”

  “You’re wrong, Julia. Eilean Skye is in your blood, as surely as the sea is in that of the one you love.”

  Her father observed how Julia tightly clutched the seal skin, offering a crude laugh, followed by a rattle of blood from the open wound in his neck. “Tell me, Julia, are you willing to lose the man you love, after centuries apart?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He smiled, a sinister expression framed in protruding, blood-tipped fangs. “Rónán is a selkie, Julia. There is only one way to keep them, and love is never enough.”

  Julia leaned closer, to better hear her father’s weak voice.

  “Do you honestly believe he will stay?” Lord Skye scoffed. “You were raised on their legends, as mortals have been raised on those of ghosts or fairytales. The irresistible call of the sea is as much the selkie’s master as blood commands the vampire. Tales of selkies always end the same. He’ll not stay, Julia. Once given back his skin, he will vanish into the silvery blue waves, never to be seen again.” He paused. “Are you going to allow Rónán to leave, knowing he is your destined mate?”

  Julia swallowed hard, but met her father’s gaze head-on. “To hold Rónán here, against his will, would make me no better than you. I love him, Father. Even if I must bear such love in torment, even until the end of time.”

  Chapter XVI

  Present Day

  Isle of Skye, Scotland

  The two lovers stood on the sea’s edge, watching the crashing waves. In the distance stood the hidden cave, where Rónán had escorted Julia so long before. The Princess of Skye carried a large bag in her hands.

  “Why did you bring me here, Julia?”

  “We made love on this beach. Do you remember?”

  A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Not an event a man easily forgets.”

  Julia returned his smile, but her heart ached as she did so. Reaching into the satchel, Julia withdrew the cloak. After taking a deep breath she didn’t require, she met the eyes of her beloved. “I have something that belongs to you.”

  Shifting his gaze, Rónán stared at the offering with reverence. “He gave it to you.”

  Julia forced herself to nod. “It should have been returned to you, a long time ago.”

  “Julia, I—”

  “You’re a selkie, Rónán. One who has been held against your will for far too long.”

  “No, Julia, I can’t take this. I can’t—”

  “I’ve known your nature since that night two thousand years ago. You belong to the sea, and it, to you. Your soul belongs there.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” He eyed the cloak without moving to accept her offering.

  “I must love you selflessly, as you’ve loved me, or be deemed unworthy of the heart you have given so freely. Please, Rónán, take this, and with it the freedom you rightfully deserve.” Reaching for her lover’s hand, she took it in her own and moved it to the cloak. Fingers closing over the material, she pleaded, “You belong in the sea.”

  Ronan traced the once familiar skin, which now felt foreign against his fingertips.

  Tears laced her voice, but did not reach her eyes, as Rónán took the garment into his hands, pulling it from her grasp.

  Lifting the soft pelt, a gust of wind blew across the beach, billowing toward the sea. Rónán turned to face the waves, white foam swaying against dark waters as though shimmering in the night, creating an enchanting dance in the moonlight. Closing his eyes, he took in the gusting wind, combined with the waves’ crash, the music as enchanting as the sight.

  It had been so long since the sea held such sway.

  Moving toward the irresistible call, Rónán reached the ocean’s edge before pausing, surprised to find his feet chilled by the water’s cool touch, shallow waves lapping at his ankles to seep through the cloth of his jeans. Turning back, he glanced to Julia, golden locks tossed by the wind’s breath, gown blown tight along her body, pale skin illuminated by moonlight.

  Even at the lovely sight, the ocean’s call increased, the music becoming chant-like, a welcome to its long-lost child.

  With a pained smile, Julia turned away, transforming to a mere silhouette of golden hair in the surrounding darkness.

  T
he sea’s call strengthened.

  Grasping the enchanted cloak, Rónán pulled the thin material over his shoulders, moving further into the ocean’s depths, drawn by a force only he could hear. As the water reached his knees, he closed his eyes, the icy touch washing away all thought.

  Behind him, Julia struggled to resist looking back; she didn’t want to watch his departure. Soul aching, she traveled several paces down the beach before a sharp pain ripped through her chest, forcing her to her knees. Falling hard in the coarse sand, she gasped, but managed to suppress the scream, not wanting to disrupt Rónán’s newfound freedom. A second sharp, piercing pain lanced through her, one hand flying to her chest, an unfamiliar pounding pressing against her temple as she collapsed.

  Fully entranced, Rónán stood oblivious to her plight. After stripping his shirt, he inhaled deeply of the salt-laden air. Rónán welcomed the surf, and the smooth touch of his seal skin as he pulled it around his shoulders. Closing his eyes, Rónán drew a breath, preparing to dive under the surface, when a soft thumping interrupted the sea’s steady call.

  Eyes flying open, he gazed around the coast, listening intently. The volume increased. Pressing a hand to his chest, his heart pounded erratically only…he pressed harder, listening to the strange rhythm.

  Two. There were two heartbeats. One, the steady rhythm of his own. The second, that of the woman he loved.

  Rónán turned back toward the beach, and saw Julia had collapsed, the pain of her newly beating heart having knocked her to the ground. She had been completely overcome by the sensation, muscles contracting in her chest that hadn’t moved for more than two thousand years.

  Her heartbeat pushed back the sea’s call, clearing his head as he rushed toward his lover’s fallen form.

  “Julia,” he said, falling to his knees beside her in the sand.

  “No,” she whispered as he cradled her. “You belong in the sea.”

  “I belong with you, m’eudail,” he answered, pulling her to his chest. “Always with you.”

  “You can’t stay.”