in his silver eyes vanished at her answer. “All right,” he breathed. “Then we go back and find it. We’ll have a small group search the cliffs and forests around the catacombs in case he stowed it somehow.” His gaze met Tallon’s. “Another small recon group will attempt to see if he yet lives.”
At his order, the group moved into action. All except Tallon.
“See if he yet lives,” she repeated. “Are you mad? We have to get him out of there!”
Kestrel pointed to the corner where his mate and resident healer stood, her arms littered with scrolls. “Doc says the horde’s ritual is taking place in two days. There is no time to wait for Declan or plan an escape. I’m sorry, but retrieving that crystal is more important. Even Declan would agree.”
“But…”
“No buts, Tallon,” he ordered. “We cannot afford any more needless losses.”
“A needless loss?” Tallon bared her fangs. “Is that what my brother is to you now?” Before he could answer, she lunged forward. And before she managed a step, Falcon’s thick arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her back to his front.
“Let it go, Tal,” he whispered beside her temple. “And you,” he snapped to his brother. “Ease off her, would you?”
Tallon wriggled her shoulders, fighting against Falcon’s hold. “Put me down.” Even though she was angry, she would never bite Kestrel, or the others, for that matter. They knew it, too. Most had served her parents since before she was born and were used to her mother’s fang-baring tantrums, as well.
Declan was the only one who never lost his cool. No matter what, he always stayed calm and levelheaded.
Declan. Her heart pinched in her chest and she finally quit fighting.
“I can’t lose everyone, Falcon,” she said, sinking back into his chest. Tallon closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of helplessness, allowing herself to relish the feel of his arms around her, if only for a moment. “I knew the minute he told me to leave I’d never see him alive again.”
“You don’t know that.”
But she did. Somewhere in her soul, darkness festered and grew. So much sorrow, so much pain and loss, she couldn’t take any more. Wouldn’t take any more.
Lips quivering with renewed anger, she pushed out of Falcon’s embrace. “That blonde monster,” she shouted. Chest heaving, she turned back to Falcon, ignoring the concern in his green eyes.
“She is going to pay for this. They all are.”
Chapter Four
DECLAN WINCED AS SPEARS of pain lanced through his flesh to the bone. The rivers of blood, long caked on his skin, itched like mad. But he didn’t have the strength to lift a hand and attempt to ease them.
In what became a slow struggle, Declan opened his eyes. His breath seized to see a swirling gray mist clouded around him. And to see he was standing even though a shift of his shoulders proved he lay on the dungeon floor.
“What the…?”
He slammed his eyes closed. Even though his senses confirmed he still lay on the dungeon floor, he saw that freakish fog around him. Felt himself vertical. Holding his hands in front of him, he cautiously walked forward. His foot touched air and the earth fell out from under him.Wind lapped his flesh as he fell into a void. On instinct, he called upon his dragon form, hoping to shift and fly out of this vortex.
Nothing happened.
Opening his eyes wide, he noticed a small circle of red shining like a beacon at the funnel’s bottom. Each passing second brought him closer to the light. Closer to the ground. Declan only had time to shut his eyes in useless but instinctual defense before he hit thick carpet with a thwack.
Carpet?
Head spinning, Declan fanned his fingers through plush red fibers. His brow tightened as he tensed and pushed up to stand, his eyes darting about an empty room. Seeing no one, he closed his eyes and channeled his dragon senses. Again it proved he still lay caged in that cell.
“So, I’m dreaming,” he said beneath his breath as he opened his eyes. Even though it was vivid, more crisp and unsettling than any dream he’d ever had. “But of what?”
With guarded steps, he moved through a large chamber. The relentless fog closed in with every step, until even the walls melted into its embrace. When the mist had nearly engulfed him, a set of elaborately carved French doors materialized before him. They opened without a sound and Declan stepped inside.
The mist swelled at his approach and then parted, as if the room itself had taken in a deep breath and blown it away.
Declan swallowed. Hard.
A woman stood before him. A gloriously naked woman.
His eyes drank in the violin curve of her back, sliding lower over the soft swell of her ass. Every inch of her milky-white skin glowed and shimmered in the soft amber light. His palms burned to caress her and spears of heat shot through him, barreling like a rocket to his tightening balls. Then she pivoted and he found himself holding his breath.
At the sight, his heart stuttered and then stopped completely.
It was her. The sexy blonde vamp who fired his lust and fueled his hate.
“Alexia,” he whispered. The flavor of her name on his lips bled into the taste of her. Tangy and rich, her phantom essence coated his throat and burst on his tongue, making his mouth water. Never had he tasted anything like her. It had taken all the will he’d owned to pull away from her sweet neck and he would give anything to be there again now.
Breath takingly beautiful, her wide black eyes, pale skin and lush lips filled his vision. He stepped closer. Though part of him wanted to awaken and end this torture, another wanted to get closer, crawl inside her and never come out. Overcome, he reached for her. However, the hand that lifted and smoothed down her cheek did not belong to him. Declan frowned. His gaze fixed on the fingers closing around her neck, the wide, ruby ring on the index finger and long black claws extending from each tip.
Lotharus.
Even trapped in this hallucinogenic sleep, the countless wounds and cuts on his body ached at the memory of the torture he’d endured at that monster’s hands. And now they were all over Alexia. Declan shot his gaze back to her face. The fear in her eyes nearly felled him and set protective rage simmering violently in his veins.
Declan shuddered in his sleep, helpless as the vampire spun her around, forcing her to bend over the rail at the bottom of the bed. Lotharus swiped the curtain of her blond hair over her shoulder, baring the back of her neck to his gaze. One finger trailed over the long line of her nape before his hand bit down atop her neck and he positioned himself behind her.
“No.” Declan stepped forward to help her, to stop this, but his feet wouldn’t move. It struck him then that he couldn’t even turn around. Clenching his jaw and fists tight, he closed his eyes, unable to watch and not opening them until Lotharus roared out his pleasure in one word.
Mine.
Declan jerked awake. As he had realized sometime before the crazy dream began, he still lay on his back on the dungeon floor. Cold sweat covered his body. He flexed his stomach muscles, wincing at the ribbon of slight pain curling around his gut. Wrapping an arm around the ache, he dragged himself to sit up. Resting his back on the wall, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.
Images of the dream flashed through his mind with lucid clarity. It had been so real, vivid, like a memory. Holding his head in his hands, he pushed it back to the far recess of his mind, trying to ignore the most unsettling aspect of it all—the protective rage and palpable anger still quivering through every muscle of his body. A body still ready to leap to her defense and stop that terrible event from ever taking place. To save the little vampire who’d shot