Heart of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals #2)

Chapter Thirteen

“You want us to do what?”

The vampire staring him down was Acheron, sire of the Emrick coven, the closest nest of vampires Lucian could reach once he left his tomb. Acheron’s face held a mystified and terrified sort of expression, but the thirty or so vampires surrounding him seemed morbidly curious as well. The warren of caves in which they lived, deep in the Canadian mountains, tasted of iron and death and sex. The lot of them turned his stomach, but that didn’t matter.

He wouldn’t have to endure their presence for long.

“I’m offering you my blood, Acheron,” Lucian said. “I didn’t think I’d have to talk you into a little sip of dragon.”

The head vampire was older than Lucian, but he appeared to have been turned when he was twenty. Vampires were forever frozen at the age of their turning, not even showing the slow signs of aging that dragons experienced. Lucian was at the end of his life at five hundred years, while Acheron was closer to a thousand and would probably live hundreds more, all while appearing like he just learned how to shave.

But looks were deceiving, especially in the immortal world.

Acheron’s eyes were completely black, so he was well fed, but that didn’t explain the hesitation. “To be clear,” he said stiffly, “you’re not offering a little sip, Prince of the House of Smoke. You’re offering to commit suicide. Or did I misunderstand? Because the last thing I want is to misunderstand in something that will bring a horde of dragon talons down on my coven.”

“You didn’t misunderstand,” Lucian said.

“Why exactly do you want to die?”

“That’s my problem, not yours.” He shifted one hand into talons, and the crowd of vampires leaned back. Acheron, to his credit, didn’t move a single muscle. Lucian quickly slashed one of his wrists, then the other—his hands were fast covered in blood. The vampires leaned forward again, and he knew the scent of it must be boiling the want in their veins.

The Emrick coven was deep in the wilds of Canada, and supposedly, they only fed off animals. And even that was far more civilized than it sounded. They hunted the animals, drained them of their blood, and stored it for later consumption. In a way, they were no different than any other human-type species that hunted animals for food, which included a good fraction of humanity for most of history. The vampires were part of the natural ecosystem of their territory and kept a careful balance between themselves and the nature surrounding them—which didn’t make them any less nauseating to Lucian, given their preference would always be for human blood. And now he was offering them the sweetest, most alluring taste—even among dragonkind, his blood was rare and powerful, considering he had fae magic running through it.

They were practically drooling for the fat red drops dripping off his wrists.

Acheron held them back by spreading his arms wide. He glared at them one by one then turned back to Lucian. “How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?”

“Our agreement is that you have to leave humans alone. It says nothing about dragons. And here I am offering you an entire dragon’s worth of blood. Just consider it your lucky day, and let’s get on with it.” He held up his wrists toward the waiting crowd, hoping they would make quick work of him. “Make it fast, before my blood clots and closes up.”

The vampires were restless, but Acheron still held them back. He arched an eyebrow and stepped forward. Lucian towered over most species, vampires included—they retained all their human features, with the exception of that slightly more pale skin and those damn eyes that were inky pools of darkness. Their eyes would be even darker after they fed on him.

“So your blood clots quickly, does it?” Acheron asked, carefully.

“Just one of many reasons why I can’t do this myself,” Lucian grumbled. “It also regenerates quickly, so don’t take too long about it.”

Acheron stroked his chin and seemed to be still contemplating his options.

And Lucian didn’t have that kind of time. He growled, causing the vamp to lean back a little. “Or I can take your recent incursion on the human population in Seattle as an excuse to burn down your coven with dragonfire. Then I’ll move on to a coven that won’t hesitate to take my blood. Choice is yours.”

“Well…” Acheron held his hands up in surrender. “When you put it that way.” He motioned to two vampires, one on either side of the semicircle that had formed around Lucian. The vampires—both female—quickly stumbled forward and knelt at Lucian’s sides. He could see the hunger on their faces as their tongues traced their lips—they were staring at the red lines snaking down his hands, but Lucian could already feel the wounds healing. He would have to open them again. Vampire fangs weren’t strong enough to pierce dragon skin on their own.

Acheron kept his hand up, clearly a signal to hold them back. “But as we’re doing this service for you, Prince of the House of Smoke, I do not wish to cause discord in my coven. My mate, Callidora, and my purebred daughter, Giselle, will feast on you first. I believe you have a preference for women, am I right?”

Lucian curled a lip in disgust. He’d much prefer a clean death by talons, but that wasn’t in the offing… he would have to take what he could get. Besides, the degradation of it was probably a suitable end for him, given what he was doing.

“I don’t care who you pick, Acheron, but you’re taking too damn long.”

“Well, we’ll be stretching it out a little bit—if you don’t terribly mind dying a little more slowly and with a little more… enjoyment… than you apparently wish for. But since your blood regenerates, there should be enough for everyone.” He threw a glance around the crowd. The nods of agreement quickly went around, and Lucian was sure that every last one of them was going to get their take before they would allow him to die.

“Fine. Let’s get started.” He slashed new gouges in his wrists and shoved them toward the faces of the women.

They waited until Acheron gave them a nod, but then they grabbed hold of his arms with surprisingly strong grips and sunk their teeth into his open wounds. Their cool lips latched onto his skin and pulled hard. The venom in their fangs quickly infused his flesh—he briefly hoped it wouldn’t have the same effect on dragons as it did on humans, but he was quickly disabused of that idea. A sexual flush rushed through him, and his cock roared to life.

Fuck.

A wave of dizziness washed through him, and Lucian dropped to his knees, taking the women with him. A buzz started at his wrists and slowly climbed his arms. The women were ravaging his arms, but he felt nothing but pleasure flushing through him.

“Slowly, my loves,” Acheron admonished them with a smirk. “Don’t forget you need to share.” The two women slowed the pull—somehow, they were intuiting exactly how fast they could draw him down while still having his blood replenish at an equal rate.

Then Acheron signaled another vampire from the crowd to step forward.

Lucian blinked several times then squinted. This new one was the same vampire he had pulled away from the human in Seattle—the one Leksander had cured. Only the man’s eyes were no longer blue, shining the deep black of a vampire instead. “You…” Lucian’s word was slurred—the venom had reached his neck, and his voice suffered for it.

“Yes, you know Draven, don’t you?” Acheron brought the vamp closer, then knelt on one knee in front of Lucian, peering at him. “That was quite some fae trickery your brother performed on my son.”

Lucian blinked, his vision starting to haze. “But Leksander cured you.” His words were even more garbled.

The man snorted a laugh. “Cured me! I’m a purebred, you bastard—”

Acheron held up a hand to shush him. “I’m sure the Prince of the House of Smoke thought he was doing you a favor.” He drilled his liquid black eyes into Lucian. “And surely the dragons cannot hold it against us. If you magically deprive a vampire of his essence, Prince Lucian, you cannot expect to hold us in violation of our agreement for restoring him. There are so few of us now, and my son is a purebred at that. You, of all people, should be aware of how difficult it can be for immortals to procreate.”

“I really don’t give a fuck what you do.” Lucian’s words were strained and mashed together, but he was speaking the truth. None of this was his problem anymore.

Acheron smiled. “Perfect. Then we will give you exactly what you want. I dare say no dragon will have died quite so pleasantly before. And the fae magic in your blood will be a welcome addition to my coven.”

Lucian frowned, thinking perhaps he should’ve thought that through more carefully before volunteering to give his blood away to a nest of vampires… but it was far too late for second-guessing.

Acheron waved away the women at his wrists, and two others replaced them. The fresh surge of venom from their fangs flushed through him and brought with it a mind-numbing amount of pleasure. His body was convulsing with it now. They laid him back on the floor, his arms spread wide, his cock pointing straight up. His mind was completely clouded over in the venom-induced haze.

His thoughts drifted away…

…to Arabella.

He would never have a chance to be with her again—so perhaps this last, hazy drug-fueled dream-time would be his final goodbye. He could easily picture her in bed, skin to skin with him, enjoying the exquisite pleasure he would visit upon her body. He would never have a chance to experience mated sex with her, but in his dream, he would have the fullness of it. But when he imagined it, the venom mixed everything together—Cara’s soft skin; Arabella’s scent; the feel of them both pulsing around him. He growled, or perhaps that was a roar coming out of his mouth and deafening his ears… he wasn’t sure. But his frustration drove out the remnants of his dead mate and left only the woman he would never have. He could taste Arabella’s strength. He could see the love in her eyes when she looked at him. Then all of it was lost in a throe of ecstasy that gripped him and convulsed him. He lost track of what was real and what was a dream, drowning and dying under the influence of endless waves of venom injecting pleasure into his bloodstream.

He was weakening—his blood supply must finally be dwindling, bringing its own kind of lightheadedness.

He was drifting. He closed his eyes. Drifting and sailing off into the haze. Acheron was right. This was a much better way to die.

Then something hit him.

Once, twice… on the third time, he actually felt something strike his face. There was no pain and hardly even any sensation. But something was definitely hitting him, and the hitting was definitely occurring on his face.

Lucian struggled for many seconds but finally managed to open his eyes.

Cinaed was peering down at him with a look of utter disgust. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The words felt like the final slap that knocked him out of his grogginess. Lucian was still laid out on the floor—he could feel the stone underneath him—but there were no more vampires attached to his wrists.

Fuck. He had failed at even this.

Lucian slowly dragged his gaze from his bloody arms back to Cinaed. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve come for you.” Anger enlivened Cinaed’s face. “I didn’t realize you would fall so far so fast.” His words were stabbing into Lucian’s chest. And then he realized that as bad as he must look… Cinaed looked worse. Someone had beaten the shit out of his best friend—which was no small thing, given he was dragon. And a tough one at that.

Alarm broke through the last of Lucian’s haze. He sat up. “What happened?”

Acheron spoke from just behind Cinaed. “Sorry, Prince Lucian, but we simply couldn’t have your death on our hands. We contacted your House, and this is the dragon they sent. And it’s a good thing—it appears your presence is still required in the immortal realm.” Acheron gave him a gentle smile.

Lucian wanted to throw curses at him, but the look on Cinaed’s face stopped him cold.

“He’s right,” Cinaed said. “The fae have her, Lucian. She needs you.”

Adrenaline spiked through him and forced him to his feet. “Arabella?” He nearly toppled over with the head rush and wooziness still flooding him.

Cinaed just gave him an angry glare. “She would never have left the keep if it weren’t for you.”

Fuck. “Cinaed.” His voice was heavy. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

His best friend nodded, sharply, like Lucian had finally come to his senses. “Follow me.”