“God, no,” I yelp, slapping my hands to my cheeks, but luckily Tristan doesn’t get distracted. The alligator’s open snout rams straight into Tristan’s powerful claws. The alligator wriggles his heavy body, his tail lashing through the air left and right. It hits the rock wall, breaking a whole chunk of it.
“Hell, the creature is strong,” the Old Priest says, his voice full of excitement.
A cracking sound rips through the cave as Tristan twists the alligator’s head, his hands clenched on the beast’s jaws, the muscles in his arms rippling. I stop breathing—could it be that Tristan snapped his neck?
But the alligator gets up, shaking the confusion from his head, and taking his huge claw to his thick nape.
Tristan doesn’t wait for a second attack. He flashes forward, his claws slicing the air and the alligator’s skin, quick like bullets from a machine gun. I can’t even follow the movement. I only see a blur of his claws, and hear them cutting the air.
The creature backs away, growling and grunting, soon putting up his claws to protect from Tristan’s attack. An intense sensation that I’m being watched makes me look at Mark just the moment he signals something to one of the serpents flanking me. The next thing I know, a serpent tail slithers around my neck, and squeezes. He doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt me, not even to take away my voice, but enough to make me scream in terror, my hands gripping the snake tail around my neck.
As Mark intended, Tristan’s eyes snap to me. He points to the serpent, baring his fangs.
“Hey! Let her go!” He lunges toward me, but the alligator intercepts him in the air with a blow.
Fuck, this was meant to distract Tristan, and I fell right into the trap!
I scream as my Tristan flies through the air and hits the cave wall, trickling to the ground. He stops on his feet, but he’s unstable. The alligator stomps over and starts serving him blow after blow like an angry Hulk. I scream, tears blurring my eyes.
Maybe it’s better this way. Better not to see Tristan getting killed. My heart aches so much that if I catch a glimpse of his battered body I might drop dead from heartbreak.
“Stop this show, right now,” a voice fills the cave, interrupting my thoughts. I blink my tears away, clinging to hope as I search the cave for the source.
The disembodied voice speaks again, coming from everywhere at the same time. The serpents, including Mark, move their heads around just as confused, their bodies slithering, their forked tongues hissing.
I notice the grey mist up in the air when it begins clustering up in the ring, between Tristan and the alligator. My mouth pops open as the mist hardens into the shape of none other than Lord Dracula.
I blink rapidly, even though I’m as sure as it gets that it’s him. He’s huge, bigger even than the alligator, his features brutal, his eyes red as blood, wild warrior hair brushing large shoulders. Not to mention, he’s stark naked, but still looking kingly even exposed. I avert my eyes to Tristan quickly.
The first thing Lord Dracula does is inspect Tristan, my beautiful vampire prince, worried about his state. Streams of blood mar his beautiful athletic body. It’s his own blood, but in the confusion since Lord Dracula revealed himself, his wounds have already closed, nothing but the blood left on his face and body. My heart swells with gratitude for that.
The serpents at the entrance hiss, slithering out of the way to reveal a woman sauntering in like a queen.
“By God,” I squeal. “Rux!”
She gives me a small smile before her ink-back eyes settle on Lord Dracula again. She’s carrying his clothes.
“My husband tends to lose his clothes when he transforms into mist,” she says to the entire cave, her voice calm and crystalline, but stately. “I thought I’d bring them to him so he can properly negotiate.”
“His wife?” Soraya says, and bursts into laughter. “I give him the chance to bring one of his men so that he can at least stand a chance, and he decides to bring his wife?” She laughs harder, clearly trying to instigate the others to laugh along. But only very few do, and Mark grabs her elbow, pulling her closer.
He says something in her ear, and I imagine it has to do with Ruxandra’s demoness powers as a Mistress of Pain. She’s well known and feared among the supernaturals, but apparently Soraya didn’t get the memo. Still, by the face she makes while her daddy explains, I should think she gets it now. I can see her swallow down her words.
“Now, I suggest we let the fight continue,” Lord Dracula says after he’s put on the pants and boots his wife has brought, now throwing on a plain white T-shirt. I never saw him dressed so modernly, and I must say the V-necked white T-shirt makes him look even larger, his size intimidating.
“Then, we’ll negotiate the rest. But since this fight has already started, I might as well let my best man take down your best guy, Mark.” Then, to Tristan. “Do what you have to do, brother. Don’t hold back. I got you.”
Tristan looks right back into Lord Dracula’s eyes, and I can see the trust, drive and bloodlust mounting in him. His electric irises recharge, his beautiful features lock in a dangerous expression, and his deadly fists ball.
Lord Dracula moves out of the way, winding an arm around Rux, who seems so much smaller than him. But I know how powerful a woman my sweet little niece has become. I’m also proud of the show they put up—her walking in from the tunnel where he left her to make an entrance. He must have transported her over enwrapped in the fog that his body became. It’s the only way they could have both gotten here so fast.
Tristan draws all eyes to him as he moves away from the wall, watching the alligator with the eyes of death. Chills run through me. Everybody in Bran had stories to tell about Tristan DeKnight’s assassin skills, and it looks like he’s about to unleash them now without holding back. Of what I heard in Bran, he can do with his bare claws what he can do with his blades, and it seems he’s looking forward to it.
The presence of Lord Dracula and Rux gives me strength, too, and I look defiantly to the Old Priest. He watches the couple with an intense glare.
“Something tells me your plan will backfire this time, too.”
“They’re only acting like they’re in control. In truth, they’re screwed, and they both know it.”
I grin. “If they knew, they wouldn’t be here. If they’re acting cool, it’s because they are.”
Fear shadows the Old Priest’s face.
“You and Soraya made sure the King of Vampires didn’t bring his brother, the Prince of Midnight, because you feared the combo between the two of them. But you forgot to consider the deadly team he makes with his wife.” I pause, watching the logic come together in the priest’s eyes. Indeed, the old prick didn’t see this one coming. “You better find a way out of here before they get to you.”
I can barely believe it when it happens, but he actually does try to escape. He turns around and scurries to the exit, but serpents intercept him and force him back.
I turn my eyes to the ring. With highly focused eyes, Tristan waits for the alligator to make the first move.
The alligator dances around him, looking for the right moment to strike, waiting for a change in Tristan’s stance so that he can attack. But nothing changes for minutes, Tristan standing like an ice statue in the middle of the ring, serpents all around him.