He cleared his throat. “Be at ease, milady. Should it please you, this warrior would know your name...and your lineage.” Whoa, where did that come from? He knew, intuitively, that it was the proper response, although he had no idea how.
The female raised her head then, and her smile was positively radiant. “I find your inquiry satisfactory, warrior. My name is Ciopori Demir, begotten of the goddess Cygnus and the human ancestor Mateo Demir. Daughter of our noble King Sakarias and his gracious wife, Queen Jade.”
Marquis cleared his throat and stared at the female like she was an alien from another planet. He opened his mouth to respond, but when no sound came out, he simply cleared his throat a second time and continued staring. He was positively dumbfounded.
The female looked momentarily confused. “’Tis I who would hear your lineage now, warrior. Do you belong to my father’s guard?”
Marquis shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. His grief had finally consumed him. He was hallucinating. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You claim to be the daughter of King Sakarias? The King Sakarias? As in the father of Prince Jaegar and Prince Jadon: the ruler of the Celestial Beings before the Blood Curse?”
Ciopori’s shoulders stiffened and she raised her chin. “I make no such claim;‘tis an assertion of fact, warrior. And I am beginning to find your attitude almost as wanting as your command of our native tongue, far too relaxed for my liking. Do you not have more respect for your kingship? Do you or do you not serve my father’s guard?”
Marquis licked his bottom lip and stifled a laugh, although the situation was hardly amusing. “No, milady; I can assure you that I do not serve your father’s guard…as King Sakarias died twenty-eight hundred years ago—thirteen-hundred years before I was even born. And even if he hadn’t, serving is not my thing.”
Ciopori staggered backward. Her eyes grew big, and she cried out before abruptly catching herself. She brought her hands to her mouth to stifle the sound. It was as if such a display of emotion would be undignified in front of a...commoner. Despite her gallant effort, her face became gaunt and her body started to sway back and forth as if she were about to faint. The female was shocked...terrified…and clearly grief-stricken.
Marquis felt as overwhelmed as she looked. Surely, she wasn’t…she couldn’t be...
She did appear to be of their race, though, and she spoke their native tongue—obviously better than he did, as she found his dialect offensive. But there were no female Vampyr, only human destinies who were sired by their mates. So what else could she be…if not a Celestial Being? Marquis delved gently into her mind, quickly scanning her thoughts, unraveling her memories. He followed the pathways back...back...to—
Holy mother of Cygnus!
As tears began to pour down the beautiful woman’s face—Princess Ciopori’s face!—Marquis glanced around the forest. He wasn’t at all sure what he was looking for, but given the impossible turn of events, he half expected to see a god or goddess saunter out of the trees, perhaps someone better suited to handle the astonishing revelation than he. Gods knew, he was anything but tactful on a good day, and today was a very bad one.
And then Ciopori fainted.
Marquis moved with all the fluid, supernatural speed of the Vampyr race, catching her just before her elegant form hit the ground. As his hand slid beneath her waiste, a bolt of awareness shot through him like a sudden surge of electricity. Memories—no, dreams—began to flood his mind at record speed...
They were memories of his own dreams, ancient pictures that had come to him again and again over the centuries. Dreams that had sustained him through battles and losses. A face that had haunted him with eternal loneliness...
They were fantastical visions he had almost forgotten over the endless years: images of a woman with raven black hair and golden eyes with amber irises, dreams of a woman he had always known...
And loved.
Marquis looked down at the frail body slumped peacefully beneath him. Was he really holding a living, breathing female of his race in his arms? After all these centuries—his people believing not one had survived? And was the angel from his dreams—the raven-haired beauty who had come to him so many times in the night—actually a real woman?
Or was he just going mad?
His arms tightened around her waist, and he pulled her closer to his chest, deeply inhaling her scent.
It was familiar.
Dear gods, it was her.
And she felt exactly as he...remembered...exactly as she had felt in his dreams.
Marquis stared down at Ciopori’s face, studying every detail, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to awaken her, but it had been so long...so many years since he had touched a woman, held a woman in his arms...or his heart. So many years since he believed he even had a heart. Her beauty stole his breath away, and he knew the moment she awakened, he would have to let her go.
Marquis thought about calling out to his brothers telepathically. He had to tell someone what was happening. After all, this had monumental implications for their race. But not yet.
Not yet.
Right now, he would hold this angel from his dreams safely in his arms and remain in whatever fantasy-world he had drifted into. Right now, he would imagine she was his.
Time seemed to stand still. It was as if the sun had simply ceased its journey across the sky and all of heaven was holding its breath, while Marquis basked in the glow of Ciopori’s exquisiteness…gloried in the feel of her slight frame tucked so reverently beneath his own. Felt alive for the first time in centuries.
And then the princess slowly opened her eyes.
Dear gods, she was breathtaking.
She looked up at him but did not appear afraid. And then she lifted her elegant hand and placed the palm ever so gently against his cheek.
“Marquis?”
Marquis froze. Her voice was like a robin’s song as she spoke his—
Dear gods in the heavens, she knew his name!
Marquis’s lips curved into a tentative smile. “Yes.”
She blinked several times. “You are the warrior...from my dreams.”
Marquis began to tremble as he slowly let his forehead rest against hers. He had never met this woman, yet he knew her intimately: everything about her. The way she moved. The way she talked. The sparkling sound of her laughter. The elegant fall of her hair against her bare shoulders when she...undressed before bed.
Marquis closed his eyes, afraid to hope. He had been alone...forever. Born alone with a Dark One for a twin; cast into solitary existence following his father’s disappearance; cursed as a male who had never been given a female destiny...in fifteen hundred years. The only peace he had ever known had been in his dreams—loving a woman he could never possess—throughout the endless centuries of his life. Yet, here she was...
When he opened his eyes, his gaze locked with hers. Her own recognition was reflected in their light: She knew him, too.
Marquis exhaled slowly. “I have waited over a thousand years for you.” His voice was not his own.
Ciopori studied his face. She softly traced the hard slant of his jaw to the masculine angles of his cheeks, her fingers gently brushing the chiseled lines as she traced the outline. All at once, she drew back her hand and smiled. “And I, you, warrior. And I, you.”
Marquis drew her close to his heart, and held her like she was the very air he breathed—the most precious thing on earth—because she was. When he finally released her, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. He gently brushed them away. “Where did you come from, angel of my dreams?”
Ciopori shook her head. “I...I’m not sure. What year is this? What is this...Blood Curse...you speak of? And where am I?”
Marquis shook his head. Wow. Where to begin? Perhaps the less traumatic information should come first. “You are in Dark Moon Vale.”
“Dark Moon...what? Is this place in Romania?” Her eyes swept the forest floor, the distant canyons, and the
high mountain peaks. “We are yet in the Transylvanian Alps, then?”
Marquis blanched. “No, Ciopori; you are in North America. The Rocky Mountains.”
Ciopori sat up then, and Marquis helped her to her feet. She slowly turned around. “Then we did cross the great sea as I remembered.” She rubbed her eyes as if awakening from a dream. “And the strange, uninhabited land, it is called...North America? Yes, of course, that’s right. Fabian brought us here. Myself and Van— Oh dear gods, Vanya!” Her tone became frantic. “You must help me find my sister. At once!”
Ciopori explained how she and Vanya had escaped Romania prior to the Curse—how Fabian had placed them both in an enchanted sleep to await the return of their brother Jadon. The story was almost impossible to believe.
Marquis followed Ciopori to the site of her awakening and scanned the earth’s crust for anomalies. Fortunately, it was early autumn, and the ground was growing cold. While he couldn’t see beneath the surface, he could easily detect the slightest variation in temperature. It was a lot like having a built-in, infrared heat detector. Wherever Vanya was, her body would put out a clear, recognizable signal.
Sure enough, the undisturbed sleeping chamber was directly ten feet beneath them, about five feet to the east of where Ciopori had lain…for twenty-eight hundred years. As the original Celestial Beings were neither gods nor humans, but the prodigy of the two species intermixing, they had very long life spans. But they were not immortal.
No, immortality had been a cruel punishment enacted upon the males when they were turned Vampyr at the time of the Curse. It had been done to prolong their suffering—to make sure they experienced it...indefinitely. Consequently, Fabian’s feat had been nothing less than astounding: keeping two females suspended in animation—alive yet not aging—for this many years. Casting a spell that could only be broken by the return of their beloved brother, Jadon.
Marquis shuddered at the thought. Jadon would have never returned. What if Marquis’s own cry had not awakened her? He refused to allow the thought.
“She is here,” he said matter-of-factly, indicating the ground with his foot.
Ciopori turned toward him. “How will we get her out?” Her face paled. “Dear gods, what if she’s—”
“She’s alive; just as you were.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I can hear her heart beat.”
Ciopori shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever did my sisters turn you into?”
Marquis ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs, wondering if she knew—from the dreams, that is. He studied the ground intently. “The fastest way to reach her is to dig in a straight line.”
Ciopori nodded. “Very well. Where shall we find a spade?”
Marquis smiled then. “A shovel? We don’t need one.”
“You intend to use a digging fork or some other lesser tool?” She scoffed.
Marquis chuckled. “I’m going to use my mind.”
Ciopori frowned.
“I can move matter with my mind,” he explained.
“Matter?” Ciopori raised a brow.
“Yes: objects, things…materials.” He eyed her sideways. “Never mind.”
Ciopori sighed. “Even if one could do such a thing, it would take forever.”
Marquis shook his head. “No. Not with enough speed behind it.”
Ciopori cocked her head to the side, like a canine studying a confusing human, lost somewhere in the translation between species. “Marquis, this curse that was wrought upon the males...what did it do to them? You say you are still related to our people, the Celestial Beings, yet you are a separate race altogether: Vampyr. What all can a vampyr do?”
“A vampire,” Marquis supplied.
Ciopori nodded. “What all can a vampire do? What powers do you possess, warrior?”
Marquis rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking. “We have heightened senses: sight, hearing, taste, smell. We can fly or simply move through time and space at will. We can read the thoughts and memories of others, or change them if we choose. We can control the actions of others, speak to one another telepathically, and harness fire or electricity in our hands.” He paused, trying to think of anything else. “Our strength is tremendous, and our speed is...well, beyond anything you have witnessed, I’m certain.”
Ciopori blinked several times. “Wow, is that it?”
Missing most attempts at wit or humor as Marquis often did, he shrugged. “No, we can also walk through walls and self-regenerate...heal ourselves of almost any injury. We’re more or less just better at everything.”
Ciopori cleared her throat. “Humble as well, I see.”
“No, not really.”
When Ciopori stifled a laugh, Marquis stood quietly, not sure if he should go on.
“Well, I can do magic,” she offered playfully.
Marquis shifted uncomfortably. “Yes...so can my younger brother, Nachari.”
Ciopori laughed heartily then. “Were vampires not given a sense of humor, warrior?”
Marquis frowned. So that was the source of her amusement. “I guess one man’s humor is another vampire’s...headache. If vampires got headaches, that is. Which we don’t. Get headaches.”
Ciopori wrinkled her forehead. “Pardon me?”
Marquis shook his head, irritated. “Nothing. It was just something stupid my brother Nathaniel said not long ago. Uh...no...we have humor. I mean, they have humor—other vampires—apparently, it’s just me.” He turned away and began studying the ground in earnest. Princess or no, he would not continue to make a fool of himself for a female. “I’m going to lift the dirt from here.” He made a circle with his hands. “And move it over there.” He gestured toward a small grove of birch trees. “The circumference should probably be...at least ten feet around, so that nothing falls in on her.” He glanced up then, to see if she was still laughing.
Ciopori sauntered closer, her eyes sparkling like rare jewels, and he could have sworn his heart literally skipped a beat when she cupped his face in his hands. “Know this, warrior: I have not traveled across oceans—and survived for centuries—in order to enjoy your brothers’ humor. You are the one I have dreamed of.”
Marquis sighed and drew her to him. His hands fell down to the small of her waist. His grip was strong and possessive. “You will come to understand me, Ciopori.” He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head to meet his gaze. “And I will come to understand you...if such a thing would please you.”
Before she could answer, he bent his head, his mouth suspended just above hers. “Vampires are extremely passionate,” he drawled. “Some of us are better with our bodies than our words.” He brushed her lips with his, kissing her ever so gently. “And all of us are enormously protective.” He pulled her tightly against him, overwhelming her body beneath his own until she was forced to arch her back. When he looked down at her seductive curves, he groaned. “And fiercely possessive.” He fisted his hands in her hair, carefully tilting her head until she gasped, and her lips unwittingly parted.
It was then that he kissed her: the full hunger of fifteen-hundred years unleashed in one erotic brush of passion. He flirted with her mouth, tasted every texture of her tongue, nibbled on her lips, and drank in her taste. He loved her with the hunger of one who had never before been sated. Yes, he had experienced a few romantic affairs with human women before, but such couplings had never satisfied his deeper longings. Not to mention, they were always so dangerous. Vampires were primarily animals—powerful, instinctual predators—and a passionate interlude could easily turn deadly for a mortal woman. Males had to exercise extreme restraint.
In his loneliness, Marquis had imagined his destiny many times over the centuries, until he had finally given up believing she would ever come. But this woman—this angel he had loved in dreams long since forgotten—she was his every erotic fantasy, and his body craved hers like his species craved blood: to sustain, quench, and regenerate until he was replete.
/> His hands rose to cup the weight of her breasts, his thumbs instinctively finding her nipples. “I know how to protect what is mine.” His mouth found the hollow of her throat, and he teased her pulse with his tongue until she shivered. “I know how to defend and avenge that which I hold dear to my heart.” And then he pressed the hard length of his arousal against her quivering stomach. “And make no mistake; I know how to please a woman.”
Ciopori went limp in his arms before stuttering an incomprehensible reply. And then she cupped his face in her hands and returned his kiss, matching him passion-for-passion, desire-for-desire, need-for-need.
When Marquis finally pulled away, his eyes were burning, and they must have been glowing red because Ciopori looked startled. “Your sisters gave us these feral eyes, but the heat you see—that is your doing.” His fangs elongated against his will, and he scraped them gently along her carotid artery. “We use these to feed...but I will use them to bring you to your knees with pleasure.”
Ciopori groaned as he nicked her skin, then swirled his tongue over the wound, creating the dual sensation of pain and pleasure. “This is who and what I am, Ciopori. Can you accept me?”
Ciopori took a step back and rubbed the small wounds on her neck. She stared at him then…taking in everything.
Her eyes missed nothing.
After what seemed far too long for his comfort, she smiled a mischievous grin. “Only if I am to be the one to please you...and feed you...warrior.” She stepped forward and laid her head against his chest, just above his heart. “And love you…if you will have me.”
Marquis bit down on his lower lip and closed his eyes. He didn’t dare breathe. Warriors did not shed tears. Marquis Silivasi did not shed tears. Yet, for the first time in his life, his heart wept with joy and gratitude. “The gods themselves could not take you from me now, Ciopori.”
Stroking her long raven hair, he motioned toward a tall quaking aspen that still had its summer leaves. “Stand over there, my lost angel. Let us find and awaken your sister.”