20
Tobias
“Stay here, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Tobias said to the others, once they’d all arrived in the throne room at the underground palace.
He could feel Christo’s eyes upon him as he carried Kitty from the room, grateful the male kept his mouth shut. Tobias had lied to Kyriel. Kitty didn’t have a room at the palace, but he would give her his own. A crushing sense of responsibility had settled over him.
This whole power play, the throne, and every advancement after that… came with a cost. It was never supposed to be her. I didn’t want this, and I didn’t ask for any of it. But, neither did she.
No matter how many others have determined the direction my path has taken, I still chose to comply. She did not. I’m her responsibility, and she had no choice but to follow. Now, she’s my responsibility.
He carefully maneuvered her wings through the doorway and kicked it shut behind them without breaking a stride. At the bedside, he hesitated.
“Kitty, I’m going to lay you on the bed, let me know if you need help to get comfortable.”
She still hadn’t said a word since they’d found her, but her eyes had opened briefly a few times. He knew she could hear his voice.
Slowly, he placed her atop the enormous bed, rolling her gently onto one side in the process.
Her wings stretched out awkwardly behind her.
It didn’t seem like an ideal position, but he didn’t know how sensitive wings were.
Plus, after lying in a heap on the warehouse floor for twenty-four hours, she could be in pain just from being unable to move.
As if sensing his concern, Kitty managed to summon her mortal form, removing the problem. A couple of whimpers escaped, leaving no doubt about her pain levels.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and embraced her gently from behind. “I’m here, Kitty. What can I do?”
She didn’t respond. Tobias wasn’t used to feeling helpless and he didn’t like it one bit. Even though this wasn’t the usual course of action for angels, he opened a vein at his wrist and placed it beside her lips.
“I don’t know if this will help, but I’ve got quite a cocktail these days. It’s worth a shot.”
Her lips parted voluntarily and a small amount of blood made it into her mouth. After an infinite moment, she swallowed and took a little more. Six precious mouthfuls later, her lips closed, and he knew she’d taken what she needed.
After giving her arm a gentle squeeze, he walked over to the armoire and grabbed a fuzzy blanket.
He draped it over her and tucked the edges around her body.
Once he was satisfied, he sat down again and smoothed the hair back from her face.
Her eyes fluttered open and her head turned slightly until they made eye contact.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m okay.” Her voice was barely audible.
“No, you’re not, but you will be. I’ll make sure of that. I have to go check on the situation in the throne room, but I’ll be back when I can, all right? You have my blood now, so I’ll know if you need me.”
“Sneaky.”
A hint of a smile played upon his lips. “I try.”
Rion
Rion felt certain he’d broken his mortal body beyond repair. He prepared for arrival in the lower realms, praying it didn’t take long to regenerate a new mortal form.
A change in location was not immediate. For several moments, the panic almost suffocated him. I no longer belong to the eighth lower realm; I have been excommunicated. Where would I go now? Should I be afraid?
Once he got a hold of himself, Rion realized he was simply unconscious. At least, his body was. His mind had stayed fully alert, with no connection to anything physical.
Why is this happening to me? He tried to make a connection with Tobias, but it didn’t work.
Existing in this non-physical state felt like an eternity and it was difficult not to panic.
It really seemed as though there was nothing he could do to change whatever this strange circumstance was.
Finally, the faintest inkling of a connection began to appear again.
He could not open his eyes or move a muscle, but there was a voice. Someone was trying to speak to him.
“Rion, can you hear me?”
Lori? How is Lori talking to me?
“Rion, feed from me, please. Tobias has my back, I’ll be okay.”
Rion had fed from Lori once before and knew he could stop himself before her life was in danger. The fact she now had the safety net of Tobias’ undead connection made it even less of an issue. He cast out his demonic senses, until he latched onto her emotions. Concern, love, courage…
After a few minutes of soaking up Lori’s glorious energy, control of his body returned. His eyes opened and he found Lori gazing down at him.
“Thank you, little one.” He sat up and looked around the great room of the penthouse. “Kitty?”
“Tobias has her at the palace, she’ll be okay.” Lori gave him a soft kiss.
“Where is Will?”
“He’s sleeping. I’m not sure if he’ll rise again tonight. We are under strict instructions not to allow the angels to waste any miracles. So, you need to find somewhere to finish feeding and head over to Diabolus Loco. Tobias is waiting for you.”
Rion kissed her again, this time deeper and more sensually. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, love. Be safe.”
Rion was determined to be at full capacity before returning to Diabolus Loco, so he took a precious fifteen minutes to replenish himself. Shame burned in his chest at having overextended himself at the warehouse and leaving Tobias to deal with Marquez alone.
We are supposed to be a Trinity and I had to waste it all on a stupid power play.
He found Tobias in the throne room, along with Lyla, Derek, Althea, and a dozen hounds. Marquez and five of his guards were also present. It was clear they’d been talking for some time, and things seemed less hostile than when Rion had last been a part of the situation.
“Le Roux,” Tobias greeted him with a respectful nod. Silently, he asked, “have you got your shit together? You okay?”
Rion nodded in response. “I am fine. My apologies for earlier. How is my sister?”
“Resting. She’ll be okay.”
“What has been achieved in my absence?” Rion asked aloud as he crossed the room and stood beside the throne.
“With further discussion and testimony from Althea, Marquez has begrudgingly accepted that I am capable of protecting other undead from your father.”
“I see.”
“He refuses to take an oath unless we prove it works with another original king first,” Lyla said with a pointed stare at Marquez.
“Do you plan to enact this?” Rion projected into Tobias’ head.
The idea of Tobias taking on even more power and responsibility seemed risky. Bonding with Charisma seemed like such a small thing now.
“I plan to save as many vampires as I can,” Tobias retained his relaxed position on the throne, indicating a significant increase in confidence from a few hours before.
“Uriel has gone with O’Brien and Christo to speak with Viggo Westergaard,” Lyla added. “They have taken two of Westergaard’s progenies. They intend to bring him back here to meet with us.”
Rion’s gaze moved to Marquez. “You waste time we do not have to spare. It could be the cause of your demise.”
“Maybe,” Marquez said casually. “I’m willing to take the risk. Even if Martelli has succeeded in all his claims, he has never oathed an original king before. This could be the cause of his demise.”
Rion laughed. “Clearly you do not know Martelli as well as you think you do. He does not undertake anything unless he is certain he will succeed.”
“Perhaps that is something you should undertake, hmm?” Marquez smirked at Rion.
The jibe at his overextension of power added another layer of shame, but Rion did not let it show.
“Our trinity affords us privileges others do not have the luxury of utilizing and you are not cognizant of what goes on beyond the scope of what you see. Do not presume to have an opinion on the effort required to save Kitty from your stupidity. Effort, which could have been demonstrated more efficiently without having to terminate an army of Undead soldiers prior to its necessity.”
Marquez’s eye twitched. “Conversing with you hurts my brain.”
Rion’s gaze darkened.
“Just stop underestimating us, would you? It’s getting old,” Tobias said to Marquez.
Before anyone could protest, Uriel materialized with Westergaard and the others.
Tobias
Tobias sat up straighter on the throne. It had been over a century since he’d seen the six-foot-five-inch blonde Nordic vampire. Westergaard stared at Tobias for several long seconds.
“Your status has elevated,” he stated.
“And then some.” Tobias kept his expression neutral.
Westergaard moved his attention to Marquez. “You let him go?”
“Of course not.” Marquez averted his eyes.
With a booming laugh, Westergaard moved closer to the throne.
“I am fascinated by the male who can not only escape Marquez’s clutches, but climb higher in the process.
You were always impressive in battle and sorcery.
You have my interest regarding the eighth lord’s takeover.
I have witnessed it first hand with the death of Francois Beaumont.
Now, I learn Carvalho is also dead. Tell me how you think you can save us all. ”
“What can you tell me?” Tobias asked Rion telepathically.
“I sense nothing malicious. There is a measure of fear, but I believe he is genuinely hopeful you can solve his problem.”
“It’s simple,” Tobias rested an elbow on the arm of the throne and cupped his chin. “Those I have sired and those under my protection – including Undead sired by Carvalho – are safe. I have a substantial powerbase, more than just this throne.”
“Including eleven servants and the support of multiple immortals, if your people are to be believed.” Westergaard glanced at Christo and Uriel.
“He wants us to oath ourselves to him,” Marquez chimed in. “He thinks it will sever our connection to the eighth lord. I believe it would, but I doubt his ability to take on Undead more powerful than himself.”
“You have zero comprehension of the power I hold,” Tobias kept his tone light. “If I tell you I can do this, you’d better believe I can.”
“Careful,” Rion warned. “Complacence is dangerous.”
“You would know.”
“Bastard.”
“Asshole.”
Westergaard folded his arms. “Why would you want to help any of us? Your line and kingdom could be the master race if this genocide continues.”
“Well, full disclosure,” Tobias said, “it started as an act of self-preservation. Everyone I’m responsible for is safe, but if Marquez is next to go down, I’m at risk. Then, I decided fuck the eighth lord, and if I can stop him from taking anyone else, I will.”
“This male is an eighth level heir,” Marquez added, pointing at Rion. “And he commands the hounds. You know what that means.”
Tobias had no idea why the ass suddenly wanted to sing their praises but he wasn’t about to complain.
Westergaard studied Rion for the first time. “I require proof of this.”
“You believe Martelli has eleven servants but you don’t believe he is in alliance with an eighth level heir?” Marquez asked in disbelief.
Rion called flame to his hand. From elsewhere in the room, the hounds gathered at his side.
A slow grin broke over Westergaard’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” His smile faltered when he saw the hounds. Recognition sparked when his gaze settled on Lemures. “You are their new leader.”
Tobias watched in astonishment as Westergaard dropped to one knee. He addressed the hound respectfully. “Some of us were not given a choice in what occurred all those centuries ago. You have my sincere apology for the loss of your family.”
Suddenly, Tobias wished he had met the male Westergaard had been before losing his mortality. He was intriguing on so many levels, and didn’t behave like any of the other original kings.
Lemures barked several times. A new hound materialized and approached Westergaard. She sniffed at the Nordic vampire and whined. The whine turned into a howl, and she was joined by all the hounds present.
“Uriel,” Tobias called. “Care to translate?”
The angel nodded. “Westergaard carries the blood of her mate.”
Marquez had placed distance between himself and the hounds. Tobias’ brows pressed down hard. He knew. That’s what Westergaard meant, Marquez knew before he agreed to becoming Undead. No wonder Lemures is pissed at him.
As if on cue, the hound king moved to stand next to the throne. He growled at Marquez, making the object of his loyalties perfectly clear in Tobias and Rion.
“So where does this leave us?” Tobias asked Westergaard.
The male arose and approached the throne. “If you truly do have eleven servants, you might just have the balls to pull this off. I will take your oath.”