The Vampire Queen's Dragon Lord

Chapter 9

Eventually, the soldiers hauling Declan came to a brace of doors and burst inside without knocking. When they stopped, Declan forced his heavy head up. Blood-red velvet draped the back wall of a lush chamber. Gothic tapestries hung alongside one another. However, he could not keep his eyes off the bed in the corner----off the intricate wooden frame at its foot.

The one from the dream...

Vivid images of Luthur and Anastasia flashed behind his eyes. Unbidden, a low growl vibrated in his chest. Declan felt Luthur's cold presence before he saw him emerge from the corner. Although the room did not seem overly masculine, Declan deduced right away that it must be Luthur's room. Realized with the little grain of consciousness left to him that Luthur would want to hold the memory of his murder within private walls, keep it close, like some sick kind of security blanket.

When the vampire finally stepped fully into the room, Declan's lip curled into a snarl. Memories of the last time he'd seen that sneering face, of what he'd done to Anastasia, clawed to the surface. The hate he'd channeled toward her shifted to Luthur for reasons he couldn't explain and wouldn't explore.

With a primal instinct, Declan yanked his limbs away from the unsuspecting guards and lunged for Luthur. However, the collar quickly pilfered the strength his fury had given him. Hands descended on his chest and legs, pushing him back until he slammed against a stone wall. At the impact, chains rattled beside him. Declan swallowed an uneasy lump in his throat as the soldiers strung him up, securing that unbearable collar around his neck to a hook on the wall, his wrists and ankles to connecting chains.

He noticed Luthur had not flinched a muscle during the entire ordeal. He merely stood, watching. And Declan did not take his eyes off him. Satisfied with the bindings, the guards slipped back and stood along the walls. Luthur stepped forward, his black eyes leveled on Declan, no emotion in their shadowed depths. Only black nothingness.

"Now," Luthur said, tugging up the sleeves of his black overcoat. "Are you ready to tell me where the crystal is?"

Declan smirked. "Three things I can't stand... Horde, Thai food, and answering the same question over and over..."

Luthur tucked his arm back, landing his fist on Declan's nose. Before he had time to recover, another hit blew against his temple. A third slammed against his eyebrow. One for each hate, he figured.

Throbbing pain began a low drumbeat in his skull. Declan gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound, determined not to give the bastard one ounce of satisfaction. He lifted his head to see Luthur staring down at him. Slowly, he started undoing the buttons of his coat. Shrugging out of the garment, he laid it carefully over the side of the bed before stepping forward.

"You know," he said, rolling up the cuffs of his black shirt, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "I don't think I properly thanked you last night.

Declan forced his lips into a smile. "For what? Showing your girlfriend how to kiss?"

An elbow slammed into his gut before the last word had fallen from his lips. Declan sucked in a breath and groaned when he repeated the action.

"You may think you're funny now, but it will be I who is laughing last, Derkein. I assure you."

"Aw, come on," Declan said with a pained grunt as he stood upright again. "I thought that was a good one."

A booted heel slammed into his ribs, sending him back over, and a fist cracked across his face, followed by another and another. Declan coughed, spitting out the stream of blood flooding his mouth onto the pristine white floor at his feet. As he watched the red flow between the tiles, a shadow darkened over him.

"That was for drinking from what's mine," Luthur's knee kicked into his gut, once, twice. Usually, Declan could handle these simple hits. But the collar acted like some sort of muscle relaxer. He couldn't tighten his abs and block the blows. Instead, each one sank deep into his body, crushing his lung and perhaps a rib or two in the process. As Declan fought against the bolts of agony wrenching his gut, Luthur squatted in front of him. "And that is for trying to claim her," he said before standing and walking away.

Declan smiled through the pain. So, that was what this was all about? The girl? His smile turned into a chuckle. The chuckle morphed into an outright laugh. The footfalls stopped. Luthur held his hands twined to the base of his spine. His demeanor and poise looked calm, composed. However, his actions had already given him away. Something about Declan touching Anastasia made him livid, even more so than the notion that Declan had the crystal.

"What do you find so amusing this time?"

Declan laughed again, stretching the cut on his split lip. He ignored that twinge. "I don't know what's funnier. The fact that she came to me like a bee to honey, or the fac that you're jealous."

With blinding speed, the vampire stood in front of Declan. "I can't be jealous of what's already mine," he spat. "It think it's you who is jealous. You fed from her once. I can only imagine the rush of power that flooded through you at that taste of her."

Declan's smile fled. His fangs itched at the memory. Clamping down on his jaw, he fought the truth of the monster's words.

"She's beautiful and ripe for the taking. I imagine you'd like to experience that rush again, Derkein. Believe me, I can tell you it is an amazing feeling, that rush."

Luthur's words stabbed through him with irrational precision. Narrowing his eyes, he met the black ones staring down at him.

"At least when I had her beneath me," he said through clenched teeth, "I didn't have to force her there."

A feminine gasp sounded. Declan snapped his focus over Luthur's shoulder. His eyes immediately settled on Anastasia. The pale blue, floor-length négligée and wrapper she wore set off the golden color of her hair. She looked ethereal, beautiful and shocked. And to see her standing beside that bed brought back the dream into glaring focus.

"What did you say?" Luthur growled.

Declan switched his gaze back to him. "You heard me you sick bastard. Are you so pathetic you have to take advantage to get laid, or do you just get off on terrifying innocent women?"

The anger in Luthur's eyes multiplied. Shaking with rage, he lunged for the fireplace, grabbing a silver poker from the stand. Anastasia rushed forward, taking his arm. "Luthur, no----"

Without missing a step, he turned, backhanding her. Instinctively, Declan's entire body lunged to protect her. His muscles strained against the iron bindings. However, all thoughts of helping her fled when Luthur swung back around, impaling the poker where he'd landed his fists moments before. The sharp burst of pain in his gut momentarily debilitated Declan. He couldn't see, think or hear, but only focus on the blinding agony radiating through his midsection. Luthur leaned forward, holding his face mere inches from Declan's. "I will answer to no one. Especially not some flying rat."

Luthur heaved back, dragging the poker's jagged tip through Declan's flesh. He doubled over, hearing the silver rod rattle on the floor, discarded. Blinking, he looked up. Luthur brushed his palms together as if he'd done little more than squash a bug. "Get this thing out of my sight. He's bleeding all over my floor!"

The soldiers quickly unhooked him and Declan fell limp in their arms. His eyes drifted to the corner of the room, searching for Anastasia. He couldn't make her out. His vision had gone foggy, and he shut his eyes, not opening them until he was unceremoniously tossed to the ground, shackled and the dungeon door slammed shut. He wrapped an arm around his middle and curled into a ball on his side. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he focused on breathing, on Talia, on images of home. He knew coming here was a dead end, a ticket to hell. As the pain lashed and bit, threatening to choke him, Declan told himself that he would take this suffering and anymore the horde could dish out to save his flock.

He stared at the filthy walls of the dungeon with newfound wonder in his eyes, feeling them mist. The idea that both his parents might have lain in this very spot---may have felt unbearable agony and loss and yet faced it as it was----brought comfort to Declan and he finally fell into the sleep his body so desperately needed.