Page 152 of The Vampire's Thirst
Hearing the caws of a raven, Dax craned his neck to look overhead at a gigantic beast who winged its way toward a distant tree-barren hillside. It landed beside a male whose long black coat whipped around his boots.Lort.The vampire Arisen Dawn general had watched the battle from a safe, lofty perch. Dax wondered if he mourned the loss of his soldiers or if he had sacrificed them to study how the Firebrands operated.
Fin, along with others, waited at the stronghold’s portal, tears in her eyes, a hand smothering a cry when she rushed toward Thorn. Dax released him to her care, glancing around at the crowd.
There. Chiara.
Once she was in his arms, he rubbed a thumb across the smudges of dirt on her face, tucking a wayward strand of curly black hair behind her ear. No wounds. When her hands stroked his jaw, he leaned into her warm touch. Nobody had ever waited for him. Usually after a fight, he beelined it to the nearest O blud den. This was better. So much better. Someone cared. He mattered to Chiara.
A slight chill settling over his aching body, he welcomed her spell, one which calmed a troubled mind and mended flesh. An odd feeling struck Dax. The little witch was his, but he belonged to her, too.
He cleared a throat raw with unexpected emotion. “It’s over for now. I’d call it a draw. Not a win. Tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow, I’ll cradle you in my arms, vampire. That’s all I want.”
He pinched her chin between a thumb and forefinger, lifting it. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“You saved me.”
“No. You saved me.”
Chiara gave him a cocky wink. “We saved each other. Now home. I have plans to fuck you silly.”
He perked up, his wounds no longer painful. “Give me the deets.”
Chiara lifted onto her toes, her hot breath whispering across his ear. “First, I’ll get on my knees, unzip your pants, take you into…”
That’s when his fangs punched from his gums, his cock nearly popped through the fabric of his jeans, and he tossed a giggling Chiara over his shoulder. Next stop, their bed. If he made it that far.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Roarkwidened his stance to withstand the rolling motion, the ground at the garrison tilting beneath his feet as Cerberus stood in the epicenter of an earthquake, his hair whipping around his face, his cloak stirring at his feet, his eyes mad with power.
So much drama.
The warlock certainly loved himself, being the narcissistic, charismatic, almost unkillable sonofabitch he was. Nasty combo for those on the other side.
Lort tossed from side to side as Arisen Dawn soldiers rushed from the barracks. When they saw Cerberus at the center of the phenomenon, they stopped, staring in awe when they realized who their leader was, stunned by the presence of someone so powerful.
The warlock’s voice thundered through the air. “Hear me, Aeternals, and know who I am. Be not dismayed. We lost a skirmish but will win the war when I tip the scales in the final battle. My destiny is victory.” The quake stilled with a wave of his hand. “Bow down.”
Really?
Roark added delusions of godhood to the list of Cerberus’s qualities. But the Arisen Dawn soldiers dropped to their knees, their heads angled, their eyes on the ground.
The warlock frowned at the males by his side. Wiping a sweaty brow, Boden immediately fell to the dirt. Roark shrugged, looking at Lort, who squared his shoulders. Both males took a knee but kept their chins up, their expressions looking as if they had swallowed a bitter dram.
After proper adoration from the crowd, the warlock gripped his black robe in a fist. “Dismissed.”
The soldiers scuttled back to wherever they had come from, devotion to their leader written on their faces.
Lort, apparently as unmoved as Roark by the warlock’s megalomaniacal show of force, spoke once the area was clear. “Defeat may be a bitter flavor, but I watched and learned.”
“What did you learn, General?” asked Cerberus.
“This was not our battle to win. We were too few. Too inexperienced. But I learned how the Firebrands fight.” Lort took a breath. “We rebuild. Add to our army. Train harder. Learn to counter the warriors’ style of battle. Punish those who fail to live up to standards. We will continue to batter the humans with small incursions, keep them on high alert, ramp up their fears.”
“Yes. This fits with my ultimate strategy. Once we have filled our stable of Blood Coven descendants, we will be ready.”
“Care to share that ultimate strategy?” Roark examined his nails. “The more we know, the more we can help.”
