Читать книгу Darkness Revealed - Alexandra Ivy - Страница 10

The mists of Avalon were no myth.

The magical shield stretched for miles around the island, keeping it hidden from human eyes and protecting it from the intrusion of demons.

No one was allowed on the island unless they had been invited by the queen. And those foolish enough to try to slip past her barriers swiftly learned a lesson in displeasing Morgana le Fay. A lesson that few ever repeated.

Mostly because they were dead.

On this day the mists were a dark, threatening gray, reflecting the mood of Morgana as she paced the velvet carpet of her throne room.

It was a chokingly impressive room with a glass rotunda and delicate tapestries on the wall that would make a human craftsman cry with envy. Just below the rotunda was a round dais with a golden throne. And on each side of the throne stood two male fairies.

They were…perfect.

Perfectly matched with long blond hair that fell to their waists and features carved by the hands of an angel. Perfectly naked, to reveal their muscular forms. Perfectly trained not to reveal the least emotion without permission.

Perfectly perfect.

Morgana demanded no less.

Not that she bothered to glance in their direction. Instead she continued her pacing, the sheer white gown fluttering around her tall, slender body and her magnificent mane of red curls shimmering in the candlelight. It was not until she sensed the approaching fairy that she forced herself to return to her throne and take her seat.

She appeared calmly composed, her lovely features unreadable and her green eyes shielded by the tangled lace of her lashes. Her expression didn’t change as the tall, unusually brawny man with curly black hair and blue eyes entered the chambers.

He was a stunning creature. And a magnificent lover.

A pity he had proven a disappointment.

Watching in silence she waited for the fairy to fall to his knees at her feet and press his head to the carpet.

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

She ignored the voice he had trained to send shivers down her spine. Her long nails, painted a deep shade of crimson, tapped on the gilt arm of her chair.

“Have you been avoiding me, Landes?” she demanded softly.

His head lifted to regard her with a wary gaze. “No, I ache to be bathed in your beauty. I tremble with the need to worship at your feet.”

“Pretty, but not what I want to hear.” She leaned forward. “Don’t you remember, my sweet, that I was to be told the moment you made contact with Sybil?”

He paled beneath her unwavering gaze. “Y…yes.”

“Then why have you kept me waiting?”

“There have been difficulties, my Queen.”

Morgana resisted the urge to kick the man in the face. Damn the fool. She didn’t want his pathetic excuses. She wanted results.

“What could possibly be difficult in such a simple task?” she demanded, the mist above the rotunda swirling in the gathering storm.

Landes cast a nervous glance upward before swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Sybil has not responded to my summons.”

“You opened a portal?”

“Of course, Your Majesty, but there is something that is blocking my efforts.”

“Something?”

“I don’t know what it is.” He lifted his hands, his expression pleading. “It’s like a fog that I can’t penetrate.”

Dark fury raced through Morgana’s blood as she slowly rose from the throne. She had devoted centuries to ending her brother’s bloodline. To making sure that each and every one of her enemies lay dead on the ground.

And for a brief time, she had been certain she had succeeded. Two hundred years ago she had killed Anna Randal, the last of the damnable clan. She was at last free of her destiny.

But somehow, some way she had missed one.

There was no mistaking the growing powers she could sense. Powers that should have been erased from the world.

Her fear had returned and she had sent out word to the fairies. Two days ago she had received word from Sybil that she had found the one Morgana searched for. She had also promised to bring the woman to Avalon.

She had never arrived, and now Landes had confessed that she couldn’t be contacted by portal.

Reaching down she grabbed Landes by the chin and jerked him to his feet.

“Obviously I overestimated your worth to me, Landes.”

His beautiful eyes widened. “No. I will find her, I swear on my life.”

With a cold smile, Morgana placed a light kiss on his lips. “Too late, my beautiful boy. I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Deepening the kiss, Morgana pressed her hands to Landes’s bare chest, using her powers to drain the life from his large body.

He struggled for a moment before sighing softly and tumbling to the ground. Morgana indifferently stepped over his carcass and with a wave of her hand the two guards were rushing to carry the dead fairy from her throne room.

Waiting for the doors to shut behind the guards, Morgana tilted back her head and shrieked in frustration.

How dare the fates continue to taunt her?

She was a queen. A beloved leader of all fairies. She should be gracing the world with her beauty. She should be worshipped by all. Instead she was forced to hide in the mists of her land, in constant fear that her brother’s final revenge was lurking just out of sight.

“Broken another one of your toys?” a reedy, female voice demanded. “How many times have I warned you about that temper?”

Whirling on her heel, Morgana watched as the shrunken old woman, with nasty tufts of gray hair stuck to her scalp and pure white eyes, shuffled into the room. The queen grimaced, disgusted by the vile smell of rotting teeth and recently slaughtered sacrifice that the woman carried with her.

Modron had taken Morgana from her crib when she was just a babe and raised her as her own. It wasn’t sentiment, however, that kept Morgana from killing the disgusting creature. The woman was a powerful seer. A rare power even among fairies.

“Shut up, you old hag,” she snarled, throwing herself onto her throne with a petulant frown. “I’ve enough troubles without listening to your tedious lectures.”

The woman gave a cackling laugh, crossing to stand before the throne with remarkable ease considering she was completely blind.

“Testy.”

“I’m not testy, I’m furious.” Morgana waved a hand before her nose, her own scent of pomegranates filling the room to cover the hag’s stench. “I’ve devoted a millennium to ridding myself of my brother’s bloodline. I was certain Anna was the last when I roasted her in London. They should be dead. They should be wiped from the face of the earth.”

Modron gave a shake of her head. “They’re like roaches. They refuse to become extinct.”

Morgana pounded her fist on the arm of her throne. “Not this time.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“The last word I had from Sybil was from Chicago.”

The hag’s smile faded, thankfully hiding her rotting teeth. “You intend to travel there?”

Morgana narrowed her gaze. “We’re both traveling there.”

Modron hissed, her hands clutching at the threadbare wool gown that covered her gaunt body. “Leave Avalon? No. It’s too dangerous.”

Morgana leaned forward to slap the woman across the face, the blow powerful enough to send the witch sprawling on the carpet. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you predicted my death.”

Settling back in her throne, Morgana lifted her gaze toward the black mist overhead.

“I know you’re out there, hiding from me like a coward, but I’m coming for you,” she breathed, her hair swirling as her power flowed from her body. She couldn’t see her prey, but she could sense the stirring power. “And when I find you I’m going to rip your heart from your chest.”

Despite the fact that he had been given a bedchamber in a separate wing of the house from Anna, Cezar woke the moment he heard the distant scream.

With the speed only a vampire could call upon he was racing through the hallway, inwardly relieved that the house had been suitably protected against the late afternoon sun. Of course, he would expect no less from Styx.

The last of the scream was still shuddering in the air when Cezar thrust open the door. He was prepared for battle as he crossed the threshold, two daggers in his hand and a matching pair of handguns strapped to his chest despite the fact that he wore nothing but black silk boxers.

Being a guardian to the Oracles had trained him well.

A swift search of the shadowed room and attached bathroom assured him there were no enemies lurking in the corners. He crossed to the bed and found Anna still fast asleep, her beautiful face flushed as she twisted in the throes of her nightmare.

An abrupt, violent surge of relief nearly sent him to his knees as Cezar stacked his weapons on the nightstand and slid beneath the blankets to pull her shivering body into his arms. Dios. He had feared…

Hell, he couldn’t even make himself consider what he had feared. Not now that he held Anna tightly in his arms, her heart beating frantically against his chest and her hands instinctively clutching at his arms.

For a moment, Cezar savored the feel of her warm body that readily curved toward his. He had waited nearly two centuries to once again feel this heady pleasure. To simply have her in his arms.

Burying his face in her soft curls he soaked in her sweet, lightly fruity scent, his hands running a soothing path up the curve of her spine.

She was wearing nothing more than a flimsy bit of silk and lace that Darcy must have loaned to her, but for the moment Cezar was more intent on easing her fear than stirring her passions.

“Ssh, Anna,” he murmured over and over, his lips lightly brushing her ear.

Slowly her trembling lessened and for a blissful moment she snuggled against the hard planes of his body, as if seeking his comfort. Cezar tightened his hold, still whispering softly in her ear.

A strange peace spread through his heart and Cezar realized that if he possessed the power he might have stopped time in this precise moment. To have this woman wrapped in his arms, her slender body bathing him in heat, and the world seemingly far away.

But while he was a consummate warrior, a well-trained guardian, and a fair scholar, his skills didn’t extend to time-stopping.

Anna sighed softly, her breath brushing over the bare skin of his chest, then she opened her eyes to regard him in dazed confusion.

“Cezar?”

“Si.”

Her hands went from clutching him to pressing him away in alarm. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

His arms refused to budge. Beneath her alarm at finding him in her bed was a lingering fear. The dream had shaken her and Cezar wasn’t about to leave until he’d discovered what the hell it had been about.

“You were screaming in your sleep.” He settled his head on a pillow, his gaze searching her strained features. “I thought I had better wake you before the cops came to investigate.”

The stunning hazel eyes darkened as the memory of the dream washed over her. “Oh.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About the dream.”

Her brows snapped together. “Why?”

He hesitated before answering. She was already freaked out by being plunged into a world she barely knew existed. The last thing he wanted was to tip her into full-blown panic at the thought that there were demons that possessed the ability to speak, or even attack, through dreams.

“It might be important, querida,” he at last murmured.

“What could be important about a dream?”

“I won’t know unless you tell me.” He studied her stubborn expression. She had her heels dug in and a petulant desire to argue with even the most reasonable request. Obviously a new tactic was in order. With a smile, he shifted to trail his lips down the line of her nose, his hands beginning an intimate inspection of the satin and lace nightgown that had been designed to entice a man’s appetite. And he was definitely enticed. Enticed, beguiled, and suddenly hotter than hell. His fingers flexed in restless need, his lips brushing over hers in a silent persuasion. “Anna, I’m not leaving until you talk to me. However, I can keep myself pleasantly occupied if you prefer to wait.”

Her lips parted to speak and Cezar was swift to take advantage. Deepening his kiss he thrust his tongue into the moist heat of her mouth, his erection throbbing in time to her low moans.

She tasted of fruit, as sweet and rich as a ripe fig dipped in honey. Cezar trembled as his senses roared with life, his entire body taut with the need only she could inspire.

Sucking her tongue into his mouth, Cezar was careful not to nick her with his fangs. Things were spinning out of control fast enough without the danger of his bloodlust being stirred.

His hands smoothed over her shoulders, and then fisted the satin curtain of honey hair. He growled deep in his throat. He wanted to devour her. To take her so completely that he became a part of her very soul.

The heat of her growing desire seared his skin as he untangled their mouths and trailed a line of kisses down the curve of her throat. He could smell her hunger perfume the air, feel her shivers as he thrust his arousal against her stomach.

Anna might not consciously accept that she needed him, but her response proved that nothing had changed in the past two centuries. His touch could still make her body burn with desire.

Muttering his approval, Cezar trailed his fingers through the honey hair before moving them down the length of her back. He took a delicious moment to explore the curve of her hips before inching up the silky material of her gown. His instincts urged him to rip the offending cloth from her body, but his mind warned him to keep this time together civilized. There would be plenty of nights (or days) to take her hard and fast.

Tonight it would be…

“Cezar.” Without warning her hands went back to pressing against his chest, her head arching away from his marauding lips. “No.”

He hissed in frustration, his mouth refusing to obey his will as it dipped down to capture a furled nipple that peeked through the sheer lace. Dios, he craved her like an addict who was in the throes of withdrawal.

“You’re certain?”

She gave a strangled groan before she grasped his hair and tugged his head up to meet her glittering gaze.

“I’m not the innocent fool I was two hundred years ago.”

The edge of bitterness in her voice jerked Cezar out of his sensual haze and he pulled back to regard her with a frown.

What the hell was she babbling about? That night they had spent together had been spectacular. He could still hear her cries of pleasure as he had plunged deep into her body, feel the shudder of her explosive release, taste the potent delight of her blood as it slid down his throat.

Surely to God she couldn’t regret it?

“You might have been innocent, but you were never a fool,” he growled, angered by her attempt to deny what they had shared.

“I let myself be seduced by a complete stranger, didn’t I?” She gave a shake of her head. “I’d call that a quality bout of stupidity.”

“I’d call it destiny,” he said before he could halt the revealing words.

Not surprisingly she blinked in puzzlement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He wasn’t prepared to go there. Not even in his own mind.

Time for distraction. For both of them.

“Tell me about the dream,” he commanded.

Her fingers, which had unwittingly begun to stroke through the strands of his hair, pulled away with a sharp motion. “God, you never give up.”

He flashed a fierce grin. “Never.”

She briefly closed her eyes before heaving a deep sigh. “Fine. There was a woman.”

Keeping his arms locked about her slender body, Cezar intently studied her face. Anna tended to say far more with her expression than her words.

“What did she look like?”

She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Beautiful, with red hair and green eyes.”

His eyes narrowed, a chill spreading through his body. “What was she doing?”

“She was sitting on a gold throne, and there was another woman there, an old woman who was lying on a red carpet.” She grimaced at the memory. “Her mouth was bleeding.”

“Was she dead?”

“I don’t think so.”

His hands ran an absent path up her back. “Something made you scream, Anna. What was it?”

She shuddered, fear flashing through her eyes. “The woman sitting on the throne…she seemed to be staring straight at me…and then…”

“And then?”

“And then she said she was going to rip out my heart. I believed her.”

She trembled, and pressing his hand to the back of her head, Cezar tucked her close to his body. There could be no doubt the woman in her dreams had been Morgana le Fay. And that the woman was determined to see Anna dead.

Never.

The word branded onto Cezar’s heart. He would kill anything, anyone who dared to harm Anna.

“No one’s going to be ripping out your heart, querida,” he rasped, his voice raw. “That much I can promise you.”

She gave a choked laugh at his arrogant pledge, but thankfully made no move to try to pull away.

“You’re so certain you can protect me?”

“Yes.” His lips brushed her forehead. “But beyond that, you’re a dangerous woman in your own right. I still have the aching ribs to prove it.”

She tilted back her head to meet his smoldering gaze, the fear fading from her eyes. “A dangerous woman, eh?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like that.”

He deliberately brushed his arousal against her hip. “Me too.”

“I can tell,” she said dryly.

“What can I say? Dangerous women are hot.”

“You think every woman is hot.” She frowned as he gave a sharp, humorless laugh at her ridiculous words. “What’s so funny?”

One hundred and ninety-five years without a woman. Without the least stirring of desire. And now that he had at long last recovered his mojo, it only worked for a female who was determined to keep him celibate.

Yeah, he was quite the ladies’ man.

“Dios,” he breathed. “If you only knew.”

“Knew what?”

He gave a shake of his head. “Tell me of your life, querida,” he instead prompted. “You said that you’ve lived quietly, but you must have done something to keep yourself occupied.”

She studied his face, surrounded by the heavy fall of his black hair. “Are you really interested or are you just trying to distract me so you can stay in my bed?”

He smiled, not bothering to hide his fully extended fangs. “Both.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“Humor me, por favor.”

She rolled her eyes at his insistence. Cezar ignored the taunting gesture. She was warm and soft in his arms, and for the moment he wanted to think about nothing but the sensation of her beating heart against his chest and the scent of her warm skin.

“I moved around a lot, which wasn’t all bad since I managed to see a great deal of the world over the years,” she at last confessed in a soft voice. “Venice, Amsterdam, Cairo…I even spent a few memorable months in Tokyo before traveling to America.”

“How did you survive?”

“I took whatever job I could find. In the early days I usually worked as a maid, since it was the only respectable job open to a woman. Later I began waiting tables at cheap restaurants.” She grimaced. “A job I don’t recommend to anyone. Even today the smell of hot grease makes my stomach heave.”

Cezar resisted the urge to skim his hands over that stomach. Or maybe he would skim his lips over that stomach. Oh…yes. Definitely his lips. And then he could explore down to the tiny thong and between her legs…

“What of men?” he abruptly demanded.

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

An odd tension gripped him as he suddenly realized just how important her answer was to him.

“Did you ever marry?”

“Good God, no,” she breathed in shock.

“Why not? You’re an incredibly beautiful woman.” He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over the fullness of her lower lip. “I don’t doubt that you’ve had to fight the men off.”

Her tongue peeked out to touch the precise spot his thumb had caressed, sending a zing of electricity through his body.

That tongue could no doubt make a vampire howl in bliss.

The mere thought of it was nearly enough to make him howl.

Swallowing a groan, Cezar forced himself to concentrate on her low words.

“And just how do you expect me to explain the fact that I’m some bizarre Superman clone?” she demanded.

“Don’t you mean Wonder Woman?”

“That’s not funny.” She gave his arm a pinch. “I couldn’t risk being close to anyone.”

A strange pain lanced through him. “Did you want to be close to someone? Was there someone special?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” His teeth ground together. “It matters.”

Their gazes tangled and for a moment Cezar feared she might refuse to answer him. Then, with a frustrated shake of her head she conceded defeat.

“No, there was no one special. I’ve been completely and utterly alone for…for what seems like forever. Are you happy?”

He was more than happy. He was fiercely pleased by the notion she hadn’t given her heart to some unworthy bastard.

He was also smart enough to keep his satisfaction to himself.

Smoothing his hand down her hair, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I didn’t mean to upset you, querida.”

She gave a snort of disbelief, her eyes narrowing. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have some…” She frowned as she struggled with the appropriate word. “Mate hanging around in a damp cave?”

A slow, wicked smile touched his lips at her grudging curiosity. “I have no mate.”

“Why not?”

His lips skimmed down her cheek to nibble at the corner of her mouth. “Some things, Anna Randal, are worth waiting for.”