The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(93)

"And what should we do with the losers?" Hestia added, rubbing her hands together.

"I have an idea," Poseidon said. They huddled closer to him, each grinning with anticipation.

LAYEL WAS STILL RAW an hour later, when the gratingly familiar challenge horn sounded. He stiffened in dread but pushed to his feet. Once Susan's image had faded, he'd dressed and begun tracking Delilah's footprints. He'd been hunkered on the ground, following her trail, but her prints had seemed to disappear.

He needed to find her, talk to her, hold her. He just...needed her. If necessary, he would beg for her forgiveness. He should have fought for her, should not have driven her away. Hopefully it was not too late.

She'll be at the challenge, he thought, quickening his footsteps, dread shifting to anticipation. I will make her talk to me.

These past few weeks, he hadn't drunk any blood, hadn't slept, hadn't really eaten. He'd been tortured with thoughts of Delilah and Susan, with need and want and pain and bone-deep suffering. All he'd wanted was Delilah, he realized now, but he'd hidden the need with memories of the past. A curtain, a shadow.

Finally he'd allowed the light inside. Nothing and no one would do but Delilah.

I've been such a fool. He'd wasted all of this time. Time he could have spent in Delilah's arms. I'll make it up to her.

The sky was brightening as he broke through the forest's trees, and his heart was pounding. Everyone was already in place. Delilah was there, too, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Mine. Her back was to him, and that blue hair he so adored hung to her waist in silky waves. He wanted his hands in it, fisting it, jerking her face to his for a kiss. Never again would he deny himself those delectable lips.

My mate. My love. He needed her to love him, which meant he needed her to give him what she'd offered before: a chance. And once he had her, he was going to get them both the hell off this island and safely back to Atlantis, where they could be together in peace. He'd go wherever she wanted, live in the Amazon camp if necessary.

His focus stayed on her as he stalked to the beach. She didn't stiffen when he drew near her side, didn't act as if she cared at all.

Tagart, who stood guard at her other side, was less nonchalant. He hissed at Layel with the feral intensity of a hungry predator.

Layel paid him no heed. All he cared about was Delilah. "Delilah," he said, savoring her name on his tongue.

She flicked him a bored glance. "Go away."

I deserve that. Once, she would have turned to him with longing in her violet eyes. Once, her arms would have opened for him and she would have proudly embraced him. "Delilah, I want you to know I care nothing about the dragon you were with. My past has hardly been perfect. I - "

"Will leave," Tagart growled. "You aren't wanted here. By any of us."

Brand strode to the warrior's side and gripped his arm, probably holding him back from a sure fight. A fight Layel would have craved only hours ago, with blood, with death and staggering amounts of his enemy's pain. Today, there was only one thing Layel wished to fight for and it wasn't the death of a dragon.

He breathed in Delilah's scent, a fragrance of femininity, the essence of pleasure, and savored every drop in his lungs, his mind accepting his adoration without protest. Peace truly was his for the first time in centuries.

"I need you," he told her, and they were words straight from his soul. "I need you more than I've ever needed another."

Her gaze finally returned to him, but her eyes were devoid of emotion. Violet yet...blank. Gone was her warmth, her laughter. "I'm sorry, but I'm no longer interested."

Again, deserved. She'd once asked him to reveal the worst thing he'd ever done. Now he knew. It was causing this, this change in her. She looked colder. Harsh. Hard. He battled despair. "You should never be sorry. Not to me. It is I who owe you a thousand apologies. I know a thousand will not be enough, but however long it takes, whatever I have to do, I am willing. For you, anything."

"Go away," she said again, just as bored.

Never. "All I ask is that - "

There was a screech, high-pitched, infuriated, and then a spear was sailing toward him. Lightning fast it happened, yet he watched as if the world had slowed to a crawl. He heard the whistle of air and managed to reach out and catch the limb just before it penetrated his heart. A second longer, and he would have been dead. As it was, the razor-fine tip managed only to slice his skin.

There was no time to search out his attacker. No need, either. Nola was shoving him down before he could drop the weapon. He allowed her to pin him, punch him and claw at him. He had vowed never to let anyone hurt him without retaliation. But her, he let. She was avenging her sister.

Delilah watched, her blank expression never changing.

A hard right was delivered to his nose, and the cartilage snapped out of place. Nails scored his cheek, drawing blood. Another right, then a left.

"That's enough. Stop!" Brand had issued the command with enough force to halt the Amazon's fist midair.

She glanced at him, murder in her eyes. "Don't interfere, or you'll be next."

Then someone was lifting Nola off Layel, and she was cursing in outrage.

Zane, he realized. The warrior held the now struggling Nola, and released a roar the likes of which Layel had never heard. "Be still, woman! And be quiet."