Blood Destiny (11 page)

"Nathaniel?" Marquis persisted.

"Marquis, now is not the time."

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"Do not force me to take the information from your mind, brother."

Nathaniel frowned. Like Marquis, he was also a Master Warrior and an Ancient. Taking information from another warrior's mind was never done among equals, and it was practically inconceivable between brothers: a show of profound disrespect.

But Marquis was on edge. He was

angry...grieving...determined to protect his remaining brothers at any cost. Nathaniel didn't bother to argue. He knew Marquis would make good on his threat. Marquis didn't make idle threats.

"The body we cremated last week was not Dalia's,"

Nathaniel growled. "Valentine staged it to deceive us." He shifted uncomfortably as his blood began to boil again. "He kept her, Marquis! He bred his sons with her and sacrificed the firstborn earlier this night, before the Omen. Jocelyn was in the chamber when it happened. She witnessed all of it."

There was a moment of lingering silence as the holographic image began to project a dark, haunting aura around it. A thick, inky mist began to cluster around the image, yet Marquis's voice remained inexplicably steady. "So this is why she sought to kill herself rather than be taken...."

Despite the calm tenor, his words settled in the air like a ghostly presence filling a cemetery. He paused to take a deep breath. "And now you seek to go where, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. "I will not discuss this any further."

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"Nathaniel!" Marquis bellowed. There was an unyielding tone to his voice.

Nathaniel didn't answer.

"Brother, what do you intend to do? Do you think to hunt the skies tonight like a madman? Do you really believe you can draw Valentine from his lair? Valentine might have achieved the skills of a Master Warrior in his nine-hundred years of depraved existence, but he is not foolish enough to fight you alone. You know this to be true."

A wicked smile curved along the edges of Nathaniel's mouth, exposing his dagger-like fangs. "Then I will pray that he has his worthless twin, Zarek, at his side to embolden him.

That I should be so lucky. It is time to cleanse this earth of both of them anyway."

Though clearly displeased, Marquis nodded in agreement.

"This may be true, Nathaniel, but not tonight. And not alone.

Do you forget that where Valentine and Zarek go, Salvatore is rarely far behind? And he has lived long enough to be a full-fledged Ancient, who is well studied in the dark arts of his kind. You cannot take all three of them, brother, and Jocelyn need not deal with the aftermath of such a battle, even should you live. You know that I speak the truth."

Nathaniel clenched his fists. "He is mocking us, Marquis.

He took her right from under our noses. He murdered our brother and raped—" His voice cut off. "My mind is made up."

His powerful body was trembling with the need for retribution.

The figure in the hologram remained disturbingly calm, his eyes distant but focused. His next words were wrapped in black velvet. "Then this is how it shall be: I will send all three 103

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sentinels to watch over Jocelyn—should Valentine be waiting somewhere with his brothers, expecting you to do exactly as you're doing. You will go and feed, and you will not return to your female until your blood lust is entirely sated. I will search for Valentine myself, to see if I can draw him or his brothers out into the open—if they are indeed with him. You and I will speak again tomorrow before Nachari arrives."

Nathaniel was not in agreement. Shelby was his brother, too, and Valentine had placed a heavy burden of guilt on all of them. Revenge was the least of what they owed their little brother. "Marquis, I am sorry, but I cannot relinquish my right to hunt the Dark One this night."

There was a long moment of silence before Marquis pulled rank. "I have spoken, Nathaniel." His tone was one of absolute authority. There would be no more discussion...no further questions.

The descendants of King Sakarias lived by a powerful code of honor, just as their ancestors had done before them, long before the Blood Curse. There was nothing random about their hierarchy, as each member devoted centuries of their lives to learning the ancient arts, honing their supernatural powers, and perfecting their abilities.

Eventually, all males who sought the hard-earned title of Master were required to complete four centuries at the Romanian University, where they would ultimately become an expert in one of the Four Disciplines: Warrior, Healer, Wizard, or Justice. And even then, a Master had to live a thousand years before he earned the title of Ancient.

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The fledglings obeyed the Masters; the Masters obeyed the Ancients; and all obeyed their Sovereign. In the case of Nathaniel and Marquis, where both brothers had achieved equal status as Ancient Master Warriors, the younger brother deferred to the elder. Much had been learned during Marquis's five-hundred additional years on earth, and his decree was beyond reproach.

Knowing the declaration was final, Nathaniel suppressed his fury and respectfully bowed his head. It was a required gesture of deference and obedience. A gesture Marquis was owed in spite of Nathaniel's disagreement.

Marquis directly bowed in response. "Be well, my brother."

"Be well, Marquis."

The hologram shimmered out of view, and Nathaniel paused to collect himself before turning to face Jocelyn, who was now sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked beneath her, staring at him with both awe and apprehension on her face.

"You need not fear me," he said. "You are my destiny, Jocelyn, and I will fight to keep you safe as I should have fought for Dalia. Do not be frightened of the sentinels, either.

They will gladly lay down their lives for you, and they will not enter my home unless you have need of their assistance. You will be safe until I return."

* * * *

Jocelyn had a thousand questions, not the least of which was what would become of her if Nathaniel didn't return. It was strange, the mixed emotions he caused in her: On one hand, she feared him—as well as whatever he had planned 105

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for her future—probably more than she had ever feared anything in her life. But on the other hand, he made her feel safe...important...like maybe there was some hidden bond between them that he valued with his life. It was impossible to deny that there was something between them.

For a moment, she actually thought about asking him to stay. She was afraid for his safety. Of what might happen if he disobeyed his brother and went looking for the creature anyway, but she knew it was fruitless. She also knew that it was utterly insane to care.

As if he had read her thoughts, Nathaniel walked over to the couch and crouched down in front of her. He stroked her cheek. "I am truly sorry, angel." His voice was pure magic. "I know you have seen far too much this night. I will return before sunrise." Leaning over so that his mouth was directly at her ear, he added, "But Jocelyn, you must hear me when I tell you that as long as you do as I say, no harm will come to you; however, should you try to escape this place, you will have far more to fear than me." With a low growl of warning, he stressed, "Obey me in this, tiger-eyes. Do not try to leave me."

Jocelyn felt a sudden flash of anger. "Obey you?" She spat the words before she could catch herself. "I don't even know you!" Jocelyn had never obeyed anyone in her life.

Nathaniel stood up then and took a small step back, clearly looking displeased.

Already committed, Jocelyn rose and faced him squarely.

"If I were going to try and escape you, Nathaniel, do you think I would do it on a whim? Without a plan? And do you 106

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think I would be stupid enough to try and escape your sentinels?" Her voice was insistent. "I have absolutely no idea who these men...males...are, but if they're anything like you or your brother, I wouldn't stand a prayer anyhow." She didn't mention that she was more afraid of what was out there than what was in here. "No, Nathaniel. I will not attempt to escape you...tonight." She crossed her arms and added, defiantly, "But it won't be out of obedience."

Nathaniel regarded her thoughtfully but said nothing right away. He rubbed his chin with his hand, and then he took a step toward her.

Jocelyn stepped back.

"Jocelyn," he said in a gravelly voice, "trust me when I say I do not think you are stupid. You saw the monster in that chamber. You saw what he can do. In this particular matter, I am only thinking of your safety."

Jocelyn frowned and slowly averted her eyes. "I, uh...I know you're trying to protect me...it's just that...I don't like to be told what to do."

Nathaniel stared straight into her eyes, "You will learn in time, Jocelyn—obedience is not always a weakness."

Jocelyn watched as his eyes flashed a deep crimson red, and the hard angles of his jaw tightened. Once again, he was trying to suppress his rage at the situation...for her. And once again, she could see that the anguish remained too much.

The truth was: As much as she feared him...as much as she knew she was right to fear him...as much as she hated some of the things he said, a part of her wanted to comfort him. He was carrying impossibly heavy burdens.

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Without thinking, she stepped forward and gently took his hand. "You are hurt, Nathaniel," she whispered. "Let me look at your hand before you go."

* * * *

Nathaniel stood in stunned silence. Unable to speak or move. Not wanting to say or do anything that might lessen Jocelyn's kindness.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing: This extraordinary woman whom he had plucked out of the forest like a wild flower was reaching out to him with concern. Despite his promise to let her go, he had taken her against her will. And they both knew that her life was about to change, forever...beyond her imagining. Under the circumstances, she had every right to be defiant, even angry, yet here she was acting like...only his true destiny would.

Nathaniel knew the wound on his hand would heal on its own, yet her concern moved him just the same. For a brief instant, the rage burning in his chest warred with the tenderness expanding in his heart. Without thinking, his warm mouth found the hollow of her throat, and he pressed a gentle kiss against her soft skin.

He wrapped his heavily muscled arms around her and held her to him, even as his soul continued to fume. His teeth scraped inadvertently back and forth over her pulse before he finally nuzzled his chin in the soft wealth of her coffee-colored hair and deeply inhaled her scent. And then he felt a curious mist forming in his eyes as affection, grief, and fury all danced together in some sort of primitive tango in his 108

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heart...as this breathtaking female stood so boldly beneath him.

When she didn't pull away, he held her even closer, this time pressing a soft kiss against her cheek before gently resting his forehead against hers. "Tiger-eyes, you move my soul," he murmured. His voice was husky and unfamiliar—

even to his own ears.

And then the scent of her blood began to call to him, the soft echo of her pulse beating against him like a small, beckoning drum. His hunger stirred, and his rage threatened to come to the surface.

Jocelyn must have felt the shift in his countenance because she all at once became rigid, and then she slowly pulled away. "Nathaniel, what are you doing?" she whispered cautiously. "You don't want to hurt me." It was as if she was talking to a wild tiger, hoping to back her way out of his cage.

He frowned. "Come back to me, love." He hastily pulled her to him and held her in an iron grip, his powerful body pressed hard against hers. And then he quickly released her before he could frighten her any further...before she could provoke the beast dwelling so tenuously beneath the surface.

"I could never hurt you, my love. You belong to me.

Hurting you would be like hurting myself."

Jocelyn's eyes grew wide, but before she could protest, Nathaniel swept her up in his arms and carried her back to the sofa. He laid her down and covered her with the blanket.

Holding his hand over his now protruding fangs, he spoke a single command: "Sleep."

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As her eyes fell closed, Nathaniel disappeared from the room and headed for the midnight sky.

How could he possibly explain? He may have looked like a man, but he was a predator first, an animal.

A male vampire.

And his anger had been stirred beyond the point of no return.

He had to have blood.

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Chapter Ten

Nathaniel's enormous, magnificent wings sprang forth from the small of his back to the blades of his shoulders, expanding more than six-feet in width, like those of a mythical, primordial dragon or warrior angel. His silky blue-black feathers shimmered like dark crystals beneath the moonlight, a perfect match to the exact shade of his glorious hair, as he soared through the skies like a man possessed, scouring the landscape beneath him for fertile prey.

Although it was taboo for a vampire to hunt so close to home, his first instinct was to fly over the Dark Moon Casino.

It was always full of tourists and travelers, many with dark secrets and hidden passions, not always so pure. But the more he replayed the vivid memories he had extracted from Jocelyn's mind, the more furious he became. There was simply no energy coming from the casino that was strong enough, vile enough, to satisfy the unquenchable thirst for blood Valentine had stirred in him.