Call Of The Dark



The hearth was burning with fresh logs, its fire crackling, its flames trying to chase the evil of the palace as the shadows danced on the walls of his chamber. "That loud thud shook the palace's foundations," Viktor said in a low, feral voice. "I want that dragon off from my lands." At one point of time, he was interested in the dragon, but when his men failed to catch her, he wanted her out of Wilyra. 

"She can't go anywhere, father," Lazarus replied as he leaned back on his chair, watching the fire crackle and grow. "Nephie is here to protect Emma and try as you may, she wouldn't leave. However, if you try to chase her, she may end up eating our soldiers to their bones or might end of burning the forest that surround our palace and the kingdom of Wilyra so smugly."

He slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair. "Then make her go! I don't care, but I want her gone. I can't afford another round of commotion in the palace because of your dragon."

"The commotion in the palace was not because of Nephie. It was because of some vampire who had sneaked in my bedchamber and tried to attack Emma. Apparently, the vampire was blood thirsty," Lazarus replied in a voice so guttural that Viktor clenched his teeth. Lazarus's eyes went to his necklace that glimmered in the light of fire and he masked his disgust. 

"Why are you after the security of Emma when you know that you must protect Olya?" Viktor asked. 

"Because she is my mate," he said with urgency in his voice. "If she dies, I won't be able to take it and might end up burning this whole planet!" That was a jab on Viktor on how he treated his mother. 

"You are a lovesick fool who can never rule Wilyra!" 

"And you are an old crone who is refusing to believe that your sons are ready for it." 

"Lazarus!" Viktor's voice boomed in the bedroom. 

Lazarus got up and straightened his jacket. "If there's nothing else, I would like to leave." 

Viktor gripped the armrest tightly. "I am hosting a ball two nights later in the honor of Olya for she is to be your bride soon. You can come there, but I don't expect Emma to be there." 

Lazarus gave him a pointed look. "I am surprised that you didn't even inquire about the vampire who attacked Emma, but you are more interested in a useless ball." 

"I am not interested in anything that is remotely concerned with the palace or the kingdom. Emma is of no consequence and so I don't care," came Viktor's cold answer. 

Lazarus scoffed. "Expected from you." Before Viktor could reply, he bowed and traced back to his chamber. 

Sitting on the couch Emma watched him pacing the room. "Lord Lazarus, you look agitated. Why don't you sit down and talk to me?" 

He shook his head as he muttered curses under his breath. "Who could be the vampire who broke into our room?" 

"I was thinking about it, Lord Lazarus," she said. "And most likely, he has to be some royal. I mean—" she bit her bottom lip and looked away. 

He sat next to Emma. "Emma, tell me about it." 

She took a deep breath in and said, "I feel that it could be one of the royals because a guard wouldn't dare to pull this kind of a stint." 

"What kind of a stint?" he asked, his brows furrowing. 

"The man ran from the bathroom towards the window. The window was open and when he jumped, he should have met at least one guard, but not a single guard saw him according to Yul," she said. 

Lazarus moved his head back slightly. "That means that the vampire traced midair as he jumped off the window." 

"Yes!" Emma's blood ran to her cheeks in excitement. 

"And only a royal could do that because guards do not have the power to trace midair." 

"That's my point, but I may be wrong." Emma blinked her eyes as she searched for his approval. 

"Orrr…" he drawled. "You could be right." 

"But it would be very difficult for you to find out who the man was. It's not like he would come and declare himself." 

He cupped her cheeks with his large hands and caressed her skin with his thumb. "We'll see." 

--- 

Two days later, Olya was fretting. "I really don't want to go to this ball, Lord Magnus," she cried as she gave a look to the gown that he had taken out for her to wear. 

"It's just a matter of a month and a half. We have been quite successful in maintaining the illusion that you would be Lazarus's bride."

"It sounds so wronggg," she whined. 

Magnus came to stand in front of her. He lifted her chin up and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "I know, but we have come so far. Let's not ruin it now. You are safe with Lazarus. Besides, I think your sister and her husband are still in the palace."

"What?" she said, shocked. "I thought they had left." 

He chuckled. "They were on the verge of leaving when the king asked them to stay for the ball." 

"I hate it!" She sagged and flopped back on her bed. Magnus crawled over her. "Olya," he said in a low, lusty voice. 

"Yes, Lord Magnus," she replied as she stretched her hands above her head and crossed them. 

He lowered himself until they were just a breath away. "This is important, love," he said, his control slipping away. 

She arched her body up and her breasts hit his chest softly. He groaned, "You would be the death of me," and slammed his lips on hers. 

An hour later, Olya was walking down the corridor, her hands curled in the crook of Lazarus's arm. She looked at every servant who was assessing her, examining her and then how their gazes went to those behind her — Magnus and Yul. They reached the ballroom and the guards announced their arrival, opening the doors for them. As they walked down the carpet, Lazarus's eyes landed on his father and then on each of his siblings. As soon as their eyes met with him, he found that some of them gave a curt nod while some curtsied. It meant just one thing—some had started considering coming to his side. 

"Father," he said and bowed to him. 

Viktor looked at them and his lips lifted up in approval. He waved at the dance floor. "You both do the first dance." 

Olya's blood rose to her cheeks. She glanced at Magnus from under her eyes, hoping he would rescue her from this, but he was standing like a statue. 

"Yes father," Lazarus said and holding Olya's hand, he led her to the dance floor. "Just dance with me for five minutes Olya," he said, his voice a nervous rasp. 

"Where is Emma?" she asked. 

"In her bedchamber." 

"You shouldn't have left her alone," she said. The music started and Lazarus took the lead. As he danced, his eyes scanned the crowd, especially the royals. 

Back in his room, Emma sat near the fire hearth, sadness enveloping her chest. Yul had ordered most of the guards to go to the ballroom. Only a few remained outside her door. Suddenly, the glass of the window crashed. 

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