A hiss from Petru stayed his hand. “Remember what you promised. Andri is not to be killed.”
Ah, yes. It was the reason Petru had been helpful, and Alex had to admit that the asshole had played straight with him. He nodded in reassurance, although if the changeling was foolish enough to raise a weapon at them, he would have to be taken out. Alex had already told his warriors that after Dafydd, Idris, Mateo and Merlin, their lives came first. They were to take no foolish or sentimental chances. Harry grabbed Petru by the arm and hauled him back out of the way.
Without further hesitation, he led his loyal troops into battle. He kicked the door down and they entered in the V formation that they’d rehearsed. The mercenaries were indeed waiting for them, their rapid fire greeting their arrival. But they were expecting a human fight, aiming at a level of a man running in. Alex and the others jettisoned themselves in at a height above the men’s heads. They rained bullets down on them as they arced up and over, then continued the barrage as they flipped behind the humans’ ragged line of defense.
It was over almost before it started, a dozen or so rag-tag mercenaries sprawled dead on the floor. Will and Malcolm did a quick sweep to make sure none were alive to cause more trouble. When they gave the all-clear, Alex lowered his weapon and took a closer look. The room was an odd and disgusting mix of opulence and degradation. It was obvious from the way it looked and smelled that Dracul and his human army had spent day upon day stewing in their own juices. In a complex filled with the stink of unwashed bodies and stale air, this was the worst of it.
It didn’t surprise him that Dracul hadn’t been among the greeters. “Come out. You can’t stay hiding behind your ridiculous chair forever.”
A second later the fucker emerged, his hands in the air. His appearance startled Alex. He hadn’t considered what kind of toll his journey down into the cistern might have taken on his body. It wasn’t pretty, and he bet that, as vain as the guy had always been, it must have infuriated him to be so disfigured. But it wasn’t merely the scars and mangled extremities that caused him to nearly gasp. It was the pure madness in Dracul’s eyes. This was why he’d stayed in this place, even though a wiser man would have expected to be found and suffer a counterattack. He should have been on the move already, instead of sitting here like an insane king, brutalizing Dafydd in petty revenge. Because Dracul was completely naked, Alex could see he wasn’t armed. So he put his own weapons down and stripped off his body armor, extra ammo, comm system and earbud to leave himself equally devoid of any advantage and encumbrance.
“Always the gentleman,” Dracul sneered. “Do you think to best me in hand-to-hand? If I were you, I would take the shot.”
Alex shook his head. “You were never like me, nor I you. That’s been the problem for over a thousand years.”
Dracul lowered his hands. “Well, all good things come to an end.”
A changeling with black and white hair and wearing some kind of silky robe dashed from behind the throne and past Dracul. He skidded to a halt at the doorway because Petru was coming in with Harry.
Petru’s eyes lit up. “Andri!” He held out his hands, as if to embrace his former lover. His shackles rattled. The boy gave him a look of disgust and tried to go around him. Petru blocked his way. “Stop. There’s nowhere for you to go, not without me. But it’s okay. I’m promised my freedom and we can go wherever you want.”
The boy’s lips curled down in apparent disgust. “Why would I do that? I’ve only ever wanted one Master.” He looked over at Dracul. “He was worthy of my love. You are nothing.”
Petru’s expression flashed with fury before he settled down again. “You don’t mean that. You’re upset. I understand. I’ll take you someplace quiet and warm. You like the sun. It might take time, but you’ll learn to appreciate me again.”
For a few tense seconds, the two of them stared at each other. Then Andri made another move to leave and this time, when Petru stood in his way, there was a flash of something in the boy’s hand.
“Watch out!” Alex’s warning was too late.
The knife went into Petru’s throat above his body armor. Blood spurted, hitting the boy in the face, although it didn’t stop him. Petru did, though. As the boy pushed past, Petru grabbed his slender neck with one hand and brought him down to the floor as he himself collapsed. The sound of Petru crushing the changeling’s windpipe rang clear across the room. The boy jerked and writhed, but with his dying strength, Petru hung on. Although Harry raced to help, he couldn’t wrestle Petru’s fingers from the boy. Then blood starting seeping out of the artery from Petru’s nails penetrating Andri’s skin. It was over seconds later, the changeling lying still. It was then that Petru let out a burst of what might have been laughter before turning into dust.
“Jesus,” Will muttered.
“I almost feel sorry for the fucker,” Malcolm added.
Alex understood what he meant. As horrible as Petru had been all these centuries doing Dracul’s bidding, in the end he’d been truthful with them, purely to retrieve this one human who’d tossed his surprising devotion aside in favor of the dubious enslavement by Dracul. Now they were both dead.
He turned his attention back to Dracul, who was staring at the carnage with something akin to a smile on his face. “You destroy everything you touch. Your older sons are dead, most of your followers, even that demented boy. And you don’t care about any of them, do you?”
Dracul merely shrugged. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
Good point. Alex was wasting time asking questions that he already knew the answer to. And yet he gave one more try to bring Dracul back from the brink. “We have a Queen. She will bring peace and harmony to all of us, if you will let her.”
Dracul stood frozen for a moment, but just as Alex thought something had finally penetrated the madness, the man laughed. “You think I care about that?” He laughed again, as if Alex had delivered the funniest line of comedy ever.
There was nothing left to do now except that which he should have done from the moment his first officer had questioned his decisions. All those chances he’d given him, including this last one, had been wishful thinking. Honor had been satisfied—and then some. It was time for action. He flew at Dracul with enough force to take them both across the room. They hit the wall together. Plaster cracked and littered them and the floor as they grappled for supremacy.
Being naked, Dracul was more vulnerable, but he was also slippery. Alex had to dig his fingers into the guy’s flesh to gain purchase. He used his booted feet to sweep Dracul off his. They fell to the floor and rolled across the carpet. With each pass, they snapped and snarled, each trying to take a bite out of the other. Because Dracul didn’t fight fair, neither did Alex. Fuck his sense of chivalry. He had to be victorious—not because he worried that Dracul would escape. None of his men would permit that. No, it was getting back to Quinn that drove his desire to stay alive.
When Dracul kneed him in the balls, Alex took the opportunity to bite his ear off as he collapsed forward. He spat the ash that coated his mouth the moment he severed the thing from its blood supply. Although he tried to maintain momentum and sink his fangs into Dracul’s jugular, the monster managed to toss him off and roll away. Alex tumbled in the opposite direction and leaped to his feet. They stood facing each other, circling and baring their fangs. With dual roars, they both lunged, connecting in mid-flight.