The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(41)

Elimination.

One member would not return from their counsel with the gods. And after the way the team had glared at Layel, she didn't have to guess who that team member would be.

IN THE SPAN OF A HEARTBEAT, Layel found himself sitting in front of a fire, trees surrounding him. The rain had stopped. Damn this! He was tired of being popped in and out of locations without warning. He himself had the ability but he rarely utilized it, not liking the sense of total exhaustion that always accompanied the transport. Still, he would rather deal with the weariness than with the god's seemingly unbeatable power. Freedom of choice was something he valued.

His teammates sat in a circle around him. They, too, had been popped here. How...wonderful.

"You purposely pushed the formorian into the water," Brand growled without preamble.

Layel arched a brow but did not verbally respond. He refused to explain himself to a fire-breather.

In truth, he couldn't even explain himself to himself. He didn't think he'd acted to prevent Delilah's team from losing. He despised that woman and her dangerous kisses. More than that, if they'd lost, Tagart might have been the one to die - a thought that pleased Layel.

Tagart.

Layel's teeth cut into his gums and blood flavored his tongue. Tagart obviously desired Delilah, obviously wanted her for his own. The dragon bastard was unworthy of her passion. All men were.

"He stepped on my hand," Irren cried, drawing him out of his dark musings.

Brand knifed to a towering stand. The fire crackled, amber light dancing over his harsh countenance. His hair beads slapped together in an ominous beat. "You cost us the victory, bloodsucker."

Rather than address the dragon, Layel eyed the formorian. "You cost us the victory, and you know it. You are simply too cowardly to admit it. Had you not fallen into the hole and slowed our momentum, I would not have been able to step on your hand, now would I?"

The creature's bruised cheeks colored in embarrassment, a rainbow of reds, blues and blacks. His glittering green eyes added to the rainbow effect. "Do not blame this on me! I would have climbed to safety."

"With your arm or your leg?" he scoffed without mercy. "You are the weakest among us and would have caused us to lose whether you climbed up of your own volition or not. You will cause us to lose every challenge, I have no doubt." He shook his head in disgust, though privately he admitted that disgust was not for the creature's infirmity. Rather his reaction stemmed from the desire he'd seen in Irren's eyes whenever the creature looked at Delilah. "You deserved to be hurt."

Surprisingly Brand had no response to that. None of them did.

Amid the silence, Layel's mind returned to Delilah and their kiss...His fangs elongated even more. He'd had his tongue and his fingers inside her. He'd rubbed his swollen shaft against her. He would have drunk from her and he would have bedded her if Tagart had not interrupted.

Not once had he thought of Susan.

Not once had he cared that it had not been his mate's gentle voice rasping his name, her soft hands clawing his back. No, Susan would not have clawed him. Their lovemaking had always been tender, as sweet as Susan herself. He had savored every moment with her.

Not once had he ever felt the desire to dominate her as he had with Delilah. He had wanted to possess the Amazon's very soul. Brand himself inside her, claim her every cell for his own. The need had been fierce, a rising tide of tangled darkness and light.

Because of that, he had betrayed Susan more than ever before. He didn't deserve pleasure. He didn't deserve happiness. And that he had experienced them, even for so short a time, made him as pathetic and shameful as the dragons. Yet...

When Delilah had reached for her teammate - nearly falling herself in the process - his first instinct had been to grab hold of her. Save her, keep her close. Guard her. He had refrained at first, telling himself it would be easier this way. She would fall, perhaps die, definitely be hurt. And he would stop craving her.

Finally, though, he had been unable to resist. He'd moved toward her. Rather than touch her, however, he had tried to dislodge the bastard holding her down. Stubborn as she was, she'd wanted to save her team member. Which Tagart had helped her do.

Layel blanked his mind as his teeth gnashed together. It's done. Over. You can't go back and change what happened.

As he focused on the here and now, he realized Brand had moved in front of him. Golden eyes were boring down at him, hot, wild. "I asked you a question, and I will be ignored no longer."

"What question?"

"You think to pretend ignorance?"

Annoyance swept through him, sure and potent. He'd been lost in thought and far away from the conversation. He wouldn't admit to it, though. Instead, he withdrew one of his wooden daggers, moving with lightning speed to slash Brand's jugular. But the blade disappeared from his hand, causing Layel to hit the dragon with his fingers. Brand opened his mouth to spew fire.

"Sit down," a booming voice commanded. A female voice this time, though just as powerful as the male voices they'd encountered before.

He frowned. How many gods were pulling their strings? Watching them? Torturing them? This was the fourth. He glanced left, right, unsurprised that he could not see the being's form.

"Until next time, fire-bastard," he said.

"Next time, bloodsucker. If you survive the elimination, which I do not think will be the case." Jaw clenched, Brand stomped back to his seat.