The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (42 page)

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. We have to go now."

Adele's concern for him outweighed everything else, even her own
safety. She couldn't doubt his determination, but a knot in her stomach
grew tighter as they ran. The front of her coat was soaked in Gareth's
blood, slapping warm and hard against her chest. They headed north,
through the quiet orderly new city of Edinburgh. Glancing back at the
dark castle she realized that she had not had the chance to say farewell
to Morgana or even to Pet, and the pain of that struck her hard for a
moment. She swore she would someday return to Edinburgh and take
them both back to Equatoria.

Gareth constantly scanned the sky above them, but to Adele's relief
it remained clear. They left the city behind and entered a forested countryside. The terrain was uneven and overgrown, with only a few paths
and cart tracks cut north through the tangled woodlands. The ground
was muddy, making it a crueler and more unforgiving struggle for
Gareth. Still, he set a grueling pace, covering miles of countryside.
Adele did not argue because she knew what was at stake.

As the long hours passed, Gareth's usual tenacity faded. He faltered
twice only to catch himself at the last moment and push on. Adele saw
the etched lines of determination on his face and knew that this man
would put himself into a grave before he would stop.

Finally, encroaching darkness made the footing more treacherous.
When Gareth went down for a third time and stayed on his hands and
knees, his panting breath spraying the ground with bloodied spittle
as it hissed from his straining lungs, Adele prevented him from
rising.

"Enough, Gareth. You have to rest."

"No time." The words rasped. His body ached as though from a
great distance, and weakness plagued his bones. Far too much of his life's
blood had seeped out.

"At least let me sew your wounds so you don't lose any more blood.
Please!"

He tried to stand, but her hand all too effectively kept him
grounded. Closing his eyes, Gareth fought to stay conscious as he licked
at his lips before croaking with a voice as defeated as his battered body,
"If Cesare catches us out here in the open ..."

"Then so be it. But you won't make it to the end of the hedgerow,
much less into some wild countryside in the north in this condition, and
you know it." Her hand brushed his check, drawing his gaze up to hers.
"Even Greyfriar must accept he has limitations."

Gareth watched with dull eyes as Adele efficiently shoved off her
pack and gathered what passed for rudimentary medical suppliesscissors and a simple needle and thread. He struggled to remove his coat,
and she quickly moved to help. Then with scissors in hand she cut away
his shredded shirt. She gasped at the vicious and ugly wounds.

"Oh, Gareth," she whispered. She threaded the needle quickly, but
when she turned to sew his torn flesh, she faltered.

"I won't feel it," Gareth assured her even as he grimaced at the touch
of her hand. "Quickly now, do what you must. Stop the bleeding, and
I'll do the rest."

Adele paused, still hesitant to add to his pain. "Should I remove my
cross?"

"It doesn't matter. Just don't say a prayer for me."

Huffing at his odd humor, she remarked, "Better safe than sorry."
She laid the silver object aside and bent to the task, jaw clenched. Gareth
did not flinch or gasp, so her confidence grew until she realized she was quickly stitching as if he were merely a tailored shirt. The allusion made
it easier to bear, though no less dreadful.

Gareth tingled at her touch even without the cross, although
without the same overwhelming intensity. He watched her with attentive eyes. Her steadfast nature through adversity was calming. Exhaustion nagged at him, his vision tunneling at times as his body threatened
to shut down. He was loath to admit it, but he needed to feed. Baudoin's
scolding frown was in his mind's eye, as if the servant was bidding his
master to eat and build strength. Gareth smiled.

"Gareth?" Adele's worried voice called to him. It took a moment,
but then the prince concentrated, feeling a low ripple of fire along his
nerves. He hadn't realized his eyes had slipped closed. Her hands were
at his shoulders, anxiously attempting to rouse him.

"I'm fine." Straightening, he placed a hand on hers to reassure her.
Again, the current in her passed to him. It felt like a dull thumping
against the back of his skin.

"You're so pale," Adele whispered as she reluctantly sat back.

"I was born pale." He released her hand and the current faded. He
tried to rise but still lacked the strength. "Help me up."

But she didn't, studying him, her eyes teeming with concern. "You
need to feed, don't you?"

He sighed. "Eventually. It will restore what I have lost. But there is
no time for it now. Come, get me on my feet." He drew his long legs
under him but couldn't find the strength to straighten them.

Adele felt a sense of shame. Morgana and other humans were willing
to spare some of their life's blood to help Gareth and didn't find it
strange or repulsive. Adele had known Gareth only a short time, and yet
she already understood this bond.

He had given so much of himself to keep her safe, to keep everyone
safe. And still he refused to falter. Her heart pounded at her chest as the
impact of what this vampire, this man, had endured for her sake washed
over her. The human princess of Alexandria knew what she wanted to do.

She bared her arm to Gareth and met his pale gaze.

His eyes widened as he realized her implication, and he reared back.
"No, I cannot.... I'll feed from someone else."

"There is no one else around. Gareth, you don't understand. I want
this." Adele couldn't bear to see him suffer one minute longer, not when
she could ease his hurt.

"But there's no reason!"

"There's every reason! I caused this pain." Her fingers dropped to
gently brush against his hideous wounds. "So it should be my blood that
eases your suffering." She shifted closer to him, preparing herself.

Gareth exchanged a panicked glance with her and again tried to
sway her from this venture. "You can't afford to be weak, Princess. Our
flight will be long and arduous. We'll pass a settlement eventually. It
will be wiser to let me feed from-"

Adele cut him off with an exasperated sigh. "Good God! You're
wasting valuable time. Now, drink." She lifted her arm to him, her voice
softening, "Please. Let me heal you."

Gareth's instinct cried for him to grab her arm and sink his teeth
into her veins and drain her dry. That hunger was always with him, but
his will had always been stronger. That was what set him apart from his
kind. Through this act, he would come to know Adele more intimately
than she could imagine. The desires and emotions that combined to
make her who she was would slip tantalizingly across his tongue.
Humans had no way of absorbing another on such a profound level. Or
so Gareth assumed. He wasn't a human. He had never "loved" anything
before. He protected the human inhabitants of Edinburgh. He cared for
the cats that shared his home. But Princess Adele was the first being that
he wanted to please, with every gesture or word.

His strong graceful hands took her arm as if it were the most delicate of instruments. He brushed his lips against the warm skin at her
wrist, and her breath drew into her lungs in a small gasp. He could hear
her heartbeat race, and the flow of blood in her veins rushed beneath his
lips like a river. He needed to dip into those waters and ease his pain.

"You may turn away if you wish," he said, almost in rote fashion, his
concentration solely on the blood just the skin's depth away from his mouth.

"I won't turn away," she promised him softly.

"Adele." Her name slipped like a prayer from his lips. He opened his
mouth and extended his fangs and bit her swiftly.

Adele reeled, reaching with her other arm to steady herself against
the cold damp ground. The pain quickly faded, and all that remained
was a pleasant warmth created by the heat of Gareth's lips on her skin
and the rush of blood that sped to the source of his gentle bite.

The thick rich liquid flowed into Gareth, bringing with it a torrent
of knowledge that nearly overwhelmed him. In that instant, he knew all
that Adele was-and it terrified him.

Death.

She tasted of death.

Fear flooded his brain. Princess Adele would kill every vampire that
walked the earth. Her hand would sweep across the land, purging all of
his kind. There would be no place to hide. Even for him.

Instinct demanded he kill her now. Save his people! Save himself!

But he couldn't.

Beneath the horror of her power he could sense her kindness, her
rebellious spirit, her sense of wonder. All the things about her that
thrilled him. And he tasted her profound feelings for him. She trusted
him. She needed him.

Adele's breath quickened. Gareth's gaze lifted, and his light blue
eyes locked with her dark ones. She was desperate to convey to him she
was all right. She was speechless, but she wasn't frightened. Where
once his vampireness had terrified her, now she saw the eyes of
Greyfriar nestled in the face of Gareth: tender, caring, and filled with
wonder about everything human. Her gaze softened, a tender smile
tugging at her lips.

She released her hold on the rooted grass and touched his hair, silky
and long between her fingers. Her contact was gentle and soothing. His
wounds were terrible things to behold, and she wanted him to heal,
needed him to be whole once more. She could never repay his sacrifices
for her. He had turned his back on his kingdom, all for her. That devotion sparked in his eyes every time she looked into them. May all of
mankind forgive her, but she cared deeply for him.

Finally he withdrew. It was a quick motion, not so much painful but
more a chill as the heat of his mouth left her. Gareth quickly placed a strip
of his torn shirt over the small wound and tied it with a tender touch.

Already there was a blush on his pale cheek as he wiped his lips clear
of her dark rich blood.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked almost shamefully.

It took a moment to find her voice. "No, Gareth, you didn't," she reassured him, her voice soft. "But was it enough? Your wounds still look
ghastly." She had no concept of how long it took for vampires to heal. She
knew little about vampires other than how to kill them. And even if he
could feel no pain, she did every time she looked at his raw injuries.

"It was enough," he told her. "Thank you. I'm very grateful."

"You are welcome to more if it would help."

"Any more would drain you too much to travel. Trust me. In an
hour or so, my flesh will close. Your blood has healed me." Gareth bowed
his head.

He had always known there was something special about her, but he
had never expected the revelation he felt while feeding. She was terrifying in her power, yet he was unafraid. He had craved absolution from
her and it had finally been granted; she was no longer afraid of him. He
would forever be loyal to her, and now he was damned because of it. His
whole species was damned, but he didn't care.

Adele kissed his head softly, resting her cheek against him, relishing the relief she felt at his words.

He looked up, his breath a shuddering inhale. "I will always protect you."

For a brief moment, Adele forgot her own impending marriage to a
man she did not know or care for. Instead she reveled in the moment she
shared with Gareth, the Greyfriar. Her heart sang with the simple joy
that fact brought.

"We must keep going," Gareth cautioned, the fear of losing her
again weighing heavily.

"I know." Adele rose and pulled Gareth up with her, supporting
him. But his vigor was already replenished, and his strong hands
steadied her more than she him. They pulled away from each other
reluctantly. Adele picked up her cross again and adjusted the Fahrenheit
dagger and Greyfriar's revolver in her sash.

She was ready.

ESARE'S AIRSHIP MUSCLED into the air over Scotland.
The ship flew low and slow, but with the confidence of superiority. There was no chance it could be attacked by an enemy. It was the
king of the sky, despite the fact that it was an unpainted hulk with
splintering wood and tattered sails. It looked like a ghost ship. The
bloodmen slaves cared little for naval discipline or maintenance.