Chapter 15 – Darius
DARIUS
It’s hard to breathe. My body is immobilized, and I’ve never been this scared before. Not even when I was dying.
The creature brought me to its lighthouse. In the center of the room is the big light, turned off in the day time, and around the room is a living space filled with luxury. Pillows, rugs, and trinkets of gold and silver.
The manticore stung me, then dropped me on the pillows.
Now, he leans back and watches me. A strange creature with a head of brown hair, dark eyes, and a muscular torso.
Below that is its lion-like body, and then its scorpion tail.
It watches me as it pours a drink, and I feel tension through every muscle in my body.
This isn’t good. Not good at all.
“I was warned that someone would come to take it. I have to say, I didn’t expect gargoyles.”
I try to respond, but my lips won’t move.
He smiles. “Since my poison has already taken effect, I’m disappointed to realize I won’t get the answers to any of my questions. Like why a gargoyle would want the power of the cup.”
The creature takes a slow drink. “But I could guess?”
His gaze sweeps over me again, and lingers on my eyes. “A red ring?” He looks curious. “Vampires have red rings, and yet, you’re not one. Are you? But you’re something close. Something in the same ‘family’ perhaps?”
I glare at him.
Suddenly, his awful birds send shadows over us as they land on the glass of the lighthouse roof in all directions. I stare at them, stomach twisting. I can only hope the others are okay.
And then, there’s a soft sound. The manticore rises slowly and looks to the door leading up to the lighthouse. Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
“There is no one stupid enough to enter my lighthouse. No one. Nor would my birds allow it.”
And then, the door opens. Lamia stands in the doorway, in her half snake form. She looks proud and brave, even though the dress she wears is ratty and tattered around her.
The manticore rises, and a warning bubbles in my throat. One I can’t speak.
Her gaze meets his. “You’ve taken something of mine, and I want it back.”
“Really?” The manticore’s gaze runs over her. “And what is that?”
“My meal,” she says. “Have you no manners?”
His body tenses, and I worry that he’ll hurt her, and then he laughs. “So, the gargoyle’s yours?”
“Yes.” And there’s no hesitation in her voice.
“Then let’s have a drink and discuss it, because I also feel I have a claim to him.”
She slithers into the room, her head held high, and seats herself lightly on the pillow in the middle of him and I.
He fills up a drink and hands it to her.
She takes it, but doesn’t drink.
He smiles. “You’re Lamia.”
Her body tenses. “I am.”
“I know a great deal about you,” he continues. “And I’m happy to say the rumors appear to be true.”
“Rumors?” she asks, her tone light.
“You are a powerful shifter. Cursed by Hera with a gift like few others. Do you know that they call you the first of the vampires?”
She raises a brow. “I’m not a vampire.”
“Oh?” His lips are twisted in mockery. “It’s nearly impossible to kill you. You need blood to survive, and you can raise the dead to be like you.”
“I don’t raise anyone,” she says.
His gaze goes to me. “I’ve heard that the difference between you and vampires is that you only raise your protectors, your mates, and blood-sources. And it seems to me that’s true. He’s yours, isn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer for a painfully long second. “He is.”
There’s triumph in his gaze. “I’ve also heard your bite brings unbelievable pleasure. Is that true?”
“Few have lived to talk about it,” she says, “so I wouldn’t know.”
He laughs. “I’m sure your mates are the most satisfied of males.”
She sets the drink down. “I want him back. And I want the item you guard here.”
His brow rises. “I will give you your male, for a fee. But the cup remains with me.”
“I need the cup.”
“Many people do,” he tells her with a smile. “But a cup that’s capable of raising the dead is too powerful to leave my protection.”
She raises a brow. “Fine, we’ll discuss my gargoyle first.” Her gaze goes to me. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I stung him.”
The color drains from her face.
“But not to worry, it’s just the poison to immobilize him. Not the death blow.” He winks. “Not yet.”
Her fingers tap lightly on her scaled tail. “So then, I’ve let you know I had a claim on him first. It’d be the gentlemanly thing to give him back to me.”
The creature stretches back. “Perhaps. But here’s the thing: I’m not a gentleman.
I’ve lived in this town, alongside humans, for as long as this structure has existed.
I was tasked with guarding the Cup of Life.
I can use my glamour to blend in with the humans, but I have to remain here.
Always. And you’d be surprised how lonely such an existence can become. ”
“I can imagine,” she says, her tone dry.
“And then, today, I’m blessed with two things. A good meal. And a woman, legendary for the pleasure her bite can bring.”
His implication makes rage boil within me. He can’t actually be suggesting what I think he is…
Her face goes blank. “What do you want?”
“What do I want? Simple.” His mouth spreads into a wide smile. “I want you to bite me.”
It’s almost strange how still Lamia has become. How blank her expression is. I can’t tell if she’s afraid, or looking forward to biting the asshole.
But I’m not confused about my feelings. I want to beat the fucking hell out of this creature. I want to tear him to pieces. There’s just something…wrong with negotiating with a woman like this. Even if the woman isn’t exactly a woman, and it’s her bite that he wants.
“It does seem like a fair deal,” she tells him.
And I swear the bastard’s eyes light up with joy.
“But,” she continues, “I have concerns.”
He licks his pale lips. “Name them.”
“My initial bite can hurt. I’m afraid you might react by stinging me.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure I can control—“
“I can’t do this if I’m afraid,” she says, and her voice changes to one I’ve never heard before. A sensual voice.
Her tone has an instant effect on him. He shifts closer to her, his massive scorpion tail flicking behind him. “Perhaps I could…secure it. Just while we do this.”
She seems to think for a long moment. “If you can secure it so that you won’t hurt me, then we can do this. But I must warn you. My bite does cause pleasure. Unlike anything imaginable. Things might go further than a bite.”
He rises, grinning. “I can handle that.”
I try to move. I want to grit my teeth together. Shout. Punch the bastard’s throat in.
But I lay immobilized, prepared to watch her touch this creature. Bite this creature.
Images of what we did together come back to me, and I find it hard to breathe. Hard to think about her doing that with this being. And the possessiveness of my feelings shocks me.
The creature searches the circular room and pulls out a massive rope. “This should do.”
Lamia nods, and they work together to wrap his scorpion tail and secure it.
Then she frowns. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”
The creature points out some heavy blocks. “Add those.”
She nods and slithers to them, then piles them along his tail. When she’s done, she’s breathing hard.
“Try to move your tail.”
He curls his hands into fists. The stinger of his tail moves from side-to-side, but the tail remains secured with the rope and blocks. For a long minute, he seems to keep trying, before he smiles.
“It’s done. You’re safe.”
Her mouth curls into a sexy smile, and my heart races. Is she really going to do this? I look out the windows, at the black birds everywhere. Where are Ryker and Vincent? Surely they’ll come back for us.
Lamia slithers to him, and he relaxes against his pillows, eagerly watching her every move. “I must say, it’s impressive that you were chosen to guard something so valuable.”
His gaze is locked on her breasts. “There was no better choice than me. Over a hundred years I’ve guarded the cup without fail.”
She freezes, looking confused, and glances around herself. “Have you?” Her mouth curls into a frown. “Or is this a distraction from the real place? Somehow I’m starting to find it hard to believe that it’s actually here.”
He glares. “Look beneath the light.”
Lamia’s expression says she doubts him, but she ducks down and reaches beneath the big light in the center of the room. She continues to search for it for a long moment before she freezes. Slowly, she pulls back and holds out a golden cup before her.
He grins. “See?”
She touches the carvings of screaming faces on the sides. “It’s interesting.”
Slithering back toward the creature, she sets the cup down on the pillow beside him. Then she lies gently in his lap. The best she can with a creature that’s half lion.
He looks down at her with barely concealed excitement, and my stomach flips within me. I can’t believe this is actually going to happen. She’s really going to do this…to free me.
For some reason I wish I could tell her not to.
With her hands, she gently turns his neck. “You’ll feel a little prick. And then the pleasure.”
He grins, relaxing back, his eyes closing. “Oh, yes.”
Everything happens so fast then. Her fangs grow, her mouth curls into a frown, and she tears his throat wide open.
The creature’s eyes flash open. He grabs his throat, and she tumbles from his lap.
For a second I can see him trying to pull his tail free, to fight, but then, he falls to his knees.
His eyes open and close and blood paints his chest. And then after a moment that seems to last forever, he slumps over.
She doesn’t hesitate. She moves to me, pulls my sword from my back, and returns to stand before him. With a spin of her wrist that speaks of someone experienced with a sword, she grabs the hilt with both hands and drives it down. Severing the creature’s head from its neck.
When she’s done, she stands over him for a long time. And, I swear, her expression is one of regret.
But slowly, as if she’s grown tired, she cleans my sword off on one of the pillows. Leaning over me, she eases it into my sheath. When she pulls back, those brilliant green eyes of hers are filled with sorrow.
“His poison should wear off soon. But I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I put you in this position, and I’m sorry you had to see that. Death--no matter how it happens--is like a curse. It shouldn’t be thrust upon someone.”
I don’t know why, but I wish I could tell her it was okay.
I wish I could ease some of the sorrow from her face.
Not being able to talk has the strangest effect.
It’s like I notice everything about her in a way I didn’t before.
Like how it occurs to me that she looks young.
When she became…this thing…she can’t have been older than her twenties.
She has the glow of youth on her, and yet such misery in her eyes.
What must it be like to be her?
“I’m going to get you out of here. And the cup. Okay? You’ll be all right.”
She goes and grabs the cup, then stands before me. And I realize that she intends to carry me.
Ouch. Has a gargoyle ever been carried?
I’m contemplating a way to see this situation in a light that isn’t embarrassing when a motion above me draws my gaze up. I have one minute to see Ryker and Vincent dropping down above us to close my eyes, when the glass roof shatters all around us.
An arm wraps around me, and then I’m shooting into the air.