The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(76)

He sniffed the air, suddenly hating the smell of that food because it saturated everything, blocking Delilah's scent. No, wait! He sniffed again, catching a trace of her innate perfume - woman and strength, waterfall and sweetness - and forced his heavy legs into motion. Each step was agony.

An eternity passed, surely, as he stumbled through vines, over thick roots, across crystalline pools and around the animals that usually hid from him. Pigs, birds, some type of cat. They watched him curiously, as if realizing he was too weak to hurt them but unsure what to do about him.

Why are you doing this? Why do you care? This is wrong. He had no answers, didn't even want to think about it just then.

Finally he heard the sound of a crackling fire, could almost feel its tantalizing heat. He stopped, black spots winking in front of his eyes. Murmurings floated to him.

"...will have to choose."

"But who?"

"The weakest or the betrayer?"

He crouched as best he could, considering his condition, and moved forward, determined to remain unseen by the god. He might be sent elsewhere if he was spotted. When he reached the edge, a group of leaves blocked his path. He pushed them aside - quiet, steady - and then he was looking directly at Delilah.

His heart stopped beating. The world slowed, fading to her. She was as soaked as he was, what little clothing she wore plastered to her like a second skin. Her body was cut and bruised, making her look like she'd just returned from a vicious battle - and lost. But she was awake. Alive. Shivering. And the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld. Ever. Even Susan had not compared, and he felt evil for even thinking so terrible a thought.

She'd anchored her hair on top of her head. Several stubborn strands refused to stay in place, however, and cascaded down her temples and past her shoulders. Tagart sat beside her in human form. Someone had given him a pair of pants, so his male parts were covered at least. The pants were too small, however, and hugged his thighs.

The bastard reached over and hooked one of Delilah's tendrils behind her ears, brushing her cheek with his knuckles in the process. Layel's stomach twisted and bloodlust roared through him.

Delilah angrily slapped the dragon's hand away, and that saved Tagart's life. For now. Layel relaxed slightly.

Tagart scowled and whispered to her - Layel couldn't make out the words.

"Has a decision been reached?" a disembodied voice suddenly asked. Harsh, edged with steel. "And do not think to beg for mercy as the team before you did. I have none. Not for you. You had only to stand in one location and demonstrate your endurance. Yet you failed, every one of you, allowing yourselves to be distracted, forgetting there were consequences if you lost sight of the goal. Had one of you lasted a single minute longer, you would have been the last standing. You would have won."

Everyone sitting around the fire stiffened. The flames stroked upward as though stoked, mingling together, swirling, almost raging, then forming into the body of an amazingly tall, thick-chested man.

"May we have more time at least before we cast our votes?" Delilah asked through her chattering teeth.

"No," was the firm reply. "You did not earn it."

"Then I guess we are ready." She closed her eyes, opened them, and determination fell over her features. Layel longed to wrap his arms around her, hold her close, fill her with his warmth. Keep her safe. "My vote is for the demon. He was the first to fall."

"I second the motion," Tagart said, shooting Delilah a pointed look.

The demon in question hissed at them. "I vote for Delilah," he said, his horns sharp and glistening with poison. "I had planned to choose the vampire, but you just changed my mind."

Layel's hands tightened into fists. He'd promised the demons to Zane, but he might take this one for himself. Or perhaps not. Zane's turn had come and the fierce vampire gleefully said, "My vote is for the demon."

"I vote for the Amazon," the centaur who'd shouted for quiet in the water said.

"That is three votes for the demon and two votes for the Amazon," the god said dramatically, as if everyone present had forgotten how to count. "A close race, indeed. Formorian, who does your vote belong to?"

The one-armed, one-legged creature scanned his teammates. His small, gossamer wings fluttered erratically as his mind swirled with what to do. The demon or the Amazon. Layel returned his attention to Delilah. She was stiff, unemotional. Waiting and expectant. She thought she would die.

The desire to hold her intensified as his gaze shifted to the dragon who had tried to kill him only a short while ago. The warrior was currently staring at the formorian with murder in his golden eyes, a silent command to vote as Tagart thought he should. Or die painfully. Ironic, Layel reflected, that he would feel grateful to a dragon.

The formorian gulped audibly, ruddy skin paling. "The demon. I vote for the demon."

And just like that, the others voted for the demon, too.

"No, please no," the demon was saying, shaking his head with violence. "Don't do this. I'm strong. I will take us to victory."

"Enough. The verdict has been rendered." The silver sword Layel now saw in his nightmares appeared in the center of the fire. Round and round the weapon spun, lethal, macabre.

With a shove, the demon was on his feet, backing away, gasping out, "No, don't do this. Please, don't do this." He stumbled over a thick root and fell.