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Bloodkin 3

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

After he is killed, bloodkin Dante Bloodclaw remains in the world
of the living through the bond with light elf Eli Starburst. Enduring

in an existence that defies everything he’s ever known, he is
burdened by the knowledge that Eli deserves better than the
shadow of a mate. But Eli is completely decided to bring Dante

back. With the help of Dante’s father, the two attempt the
impossible.

But the bloodkin world is ripe with treachery and deceit, and
enemies are waiting in the shadows, ready to strike. Dante and Eli

find themselves not only fighting for their lives, but also for the
fate of the entire world.

Surrounded by uncertainty and hostility, Dante and Eli can only
cling to the love that miraculously keeps them together in their
quest to save themselves, and their loved ones. But can those

feelings reunite a nation and end age-old animosities? Can bonds
of blood, flesh, and spirit defeat death itself?

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Fantasy, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 54,652 words

BLOOD, FLESH, AND SPIRIT

Bloodkin 3

Scarlet Hyacinth

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

BLOOD, FLESH, AND SPIRIT
Copyright © 2013 by Scarlet Hyacinth
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-432-0

First E-book Publication: March 2013

Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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PUBLISHER
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Letter to Readers

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BLOOD, FLESH, AND SPIRIT

Bloodkin 3

SCARLET HYACINTH

Prologue

In the beginning, there were only the elves. Living apart from the

world of the humans, in their beautiful idyllic island of Manturanael,
they attempted to achieve a perfect balance with nature, with Mother
Earth. But in spite of the depth and knowledge they accumulated, not
even elves were perfect.

Two distinct types had existed from the dawn of time, the night

elves and the light elves. There was a natural wariness between them,
but they managed to coexist in harmony. Separated into two, the elven
clans were nevertheless drawn to each other. As different as the
elements they aligned themselves with, certain members still found
their opposites attractive.

Pairings were formed as light elves mated night elves. But the

cross-breeding had an unexpected effect. A new species emerged
from the mix, a different type of elf. It was with great dismay that the
elven leaders realized that these half-breeds had an affliction that
couldn’t be contained, the lust for blood.

Exiled from Manturanael, the new species ended up on the main

continent, in the lands of the humans. With great difficulty, they
started to build their own civilization. This was how the race of the
bloodkin appeared.

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In spite of their unfortunate beginnings, or perhaps because of

them, the bloodkin adapted quickly to their new circumstances. Soon,
their city, now called Tachaka, grew into a bustling metropolis.
Unlike the elves, who knowingly isolated themselves from the rest of
the world, they began to expand their area of influence, until their
dangerous instincts became a problem from the humans.

Fortunately, the bloodkin Imperators did not wish for unnecessary

suffering. Seeking to prevent their people from attacking the weak,
they created the Covenant, forbidding bloodkin from killing humans
in the feeding process. Since they knew that in some ways, this
limitation wouldn’t be received with too much enthusiasm, the
institution of the Kin Lords appeared, meant to enforce the Covenant
above all else.

Alas, in spite of seemingly good intentions, the bloodkin throne

was plagued by treachery and deceit. Constant attempts of
assassination within the same family often shook the bloodkin
political scene. The elves monitored the situation, but couldn’t get
involved. In the meantime, other races, such as the humans or the
avians, did their best to stay out of the range of the blast and hoped
the instability wouldn’t affect them too much.

To a certain extent, they succeeded. In the end, the bloodkin

always snapped back, and a period of relative calm followed after the
chaos. What would happen, though, when the desperate love of a
handful of elves and bloodkin changed the very outlook on life of the
bloodkin leaders? It was a good question, and one only these
courageous warriors could answer.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Chapter One

A few months before

“So, you’ll transmit this message to the bloodkin prince,” Eli

repeated, just to make sure his messenger fully understood what he
had to do. “Then return to me with a response.”

“I shall,” the wraith responded. “I won’t fail you.”
In truth, Eli knew the wraith held no loyalty toward him.

However, the messenger he’d chosen had known Eli’s friend, Kier, as
well as Vane Bloodmoor for decades. Eli had faith that the man would
complete his mission, for the two of them.

Distantly, Eli wondered what in the world he was doing. He must

have completely lost his mind. This was madness, and he would
certainly get punished for it once it all came out.

However, Kier was in trouble. Eli had known it would eventually

happen. He’d realized all too well that Kier’s involvement with the
bloodkin would likely lead Kier to his death. But understanding it
intellectually and actually being forced to face it were two completely
different things.

He and Kier had been lovers once. Not only that, but they’d also

been best friends, as close as two elves could possibly get. Even if
Kier had chosen Cole Bloodmoor over him, Eli couldn’t possibly
abandon the night elf in his time of need.

But his only ally in this matter was Marlais Hayden, the human

whom Kier himself had brought here. Eli had needed more help. He’d
used his father’s clout and influence to figure out what influential

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bloodkin figures would be more likely to assist him. This was how
he’d run into the name of Prince Dante Bloodclaw.

Dante was the youngest son of Imperator Aran Bloodclaw,

notoriously close to his father, but also against recent policy changes.
Many people called him idealistic, and in some circles, he was praised
as a visionary. Eli hoped that Dante owned up to the information his
father’s spies had provided. He was going to a lot of trouble to reach
out to the prince.

The only method he’d come up with was sending a wraith. After

some digging, he found the same one Vane Bloodmoor had used, a
man named Thomson. Ironically, Marlais’s presence had helped
convince Thomson that Eli truly meant well, although Marlais
seemed, on the whole, confused as to Thomson’s identity. Obviously,
Vane Bloodmoor had zealously guarded his secrets from Marlais,
even if there appeared to be a connection of sorts between the two.

In the end, Thomson had agreed to deliver his discreet request for

a meeting to Prince Dante. From this point on, there was nothing Eli
could do but wait.

Once Thomson was gone, Eli turned toward Marlais. “You have

to be ready,” he warned the human. “This won’t be easy. Even if the
prince receives my message, there’s no telling what he’ll reply.
Likely, he’ll want something in exchange for his assistance.”

“I don’t have anything of real worth,” the human confessed,

“although I doubt any material possession of mine would interest a
bloodkin prince. What would he possibly ask?”

“I don’t know,” Eli answered. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

* * * *

The next evening

The first thing Eli registered as he stepped into the inn was a burst

of boisterous laughter. The tavern Prince Dante had chosen as a

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

meeting place looked, for lack of a better word, very human. Not that
Eli had anything against humans. To a certain extent, he envied the
freedom of their ways. But this inn was as foreign for him as a
Tachakan establishment would be. If not for his strong resolve and his
long years, he might have actually panicked.

Instead, he stepped inside the large room, not hesitating for a

single second. The scent of tobacco assaulted his nostrils, and he
suppressed a grimace of distaste. Under the thick cloak of his
glamour, he looked like just another patron, but his reactions could
still give him away. Eli didn’t think that revealing himself as an elf
would be a very good idea.

Dodging swaying couples, intoxicated humans, and harassed-

looking serving girls, Eli made his way to a free table. As he sat
down, he quickly figured out why it had been free in the first place.
An earlier patron had decided to show his dislike for the
establishment in a very physical way. Eli had effectively managed to
step in a puddle of vomit. What a great way to prepare for a meeting
with the bloodkin prince. The table itself didn’t look that much
cleaner than the floor. In fact, it seemed suspiciously sticky.

Taking a deep breath, Eli prayed to Mother Earth for patience. He

had to look on the bright side. Likely, there was no way any spy could
figure out such an important meeting would take place in such a
dubious locale.

Forcing himself to relax, Eli waved a servant girl over and ordered

some ale. At the very least, he could try to fit in. Unsurprisingly, the
brew she brought over was abysmal, but it served its purpose anyway.

As he sat there, pretending to drink the concoction, Eli scanned

the room. Undoubtedly, the bloodkin prince would be under a
glamour as well. However, some mannerism, the intrinsic grace of
royalty, wouldn’t be easily hidden. Eli’s trained eye could detect
them. Did any of the people here look like they would qualify?

At first, the answer was a discouraging no. However, just as Eli

started to wonder whether he’d been fooled by the bloodkin, he felt

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something like a prickling at the back of his neck. As discreetly as
possible, he turned. Instantly, his gaze zeroed in on a darkened table
in the corner of the room, where one lone man sat. Upon first
inspection, Eli would have said that the stranger’s features were
completely ordinary, but even from the distance and through the
smoky room, Eli could see the other man’s eyes, shining like black
diamonds. No human had eyes like that. Eli was instantly transfixed.

He didn’t know how he’d originally missed the bloodkin’s

presence. It seemed so obvious now. For a few moments, they just
stared at each other, while Eli debated whether he should approach
the second table or not. In the end, the prince took the decision out of
Eli’s hands. He got up and sauntered toward Eli. Without even
introducing himself, he slid onto a chair next to Eli. “You and I have a
conversation pending, yes?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Eli replied laconically. No matter how beautiful the

man’s eyes were, he was reluctant to reveal anything until the stranger
dropped his glamour. Besides, such sensitive matters were better
discussed in private. If, in the process, Eli managed to escape this
damnable place, that would only be an additional benefit.

The other man smiled, his bright eyes glittering with amusement.

Eli had the passing thought that those orbs reminded him of the stars
in the Manturanael sky. Horrified at himself, he quickly pushed the
treacherous idea away and did his best to seem impassive.

“Perhaps we should continue our conversation somewhere else,”

the bloodkin suggested.

Relieved, Eli immediately wanted to assent. Although he felt a

little apprehensive as to the true intentions of the bloodkin in front of
him, it would be better to investigate them in a less frustrating and
disruptive environment.

“Agreed,” he told the other man.
He got up, abandoning his practically untouched drink. The

servant girl materialized at his side, a remarkable feat given the hustle
and bustle she had to dodge. Eli threw her a couple of coins, leaving a

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

little tip. He didn’t want to be remembered for either being cheap or
particularly generous. The best choice under these circumstances
would be to remain completely innocuous.

The bloodkin had already gotten up and was walking away. Eli

quickly followed, paying close attention so as not to lose sight of the
bloodkin. When he finally exited the large room, Eli realized with a
measure of dismay that the other man was headed upstairs to where
the sleeping quarters were presumably located. He supposed it would
have been too much to ask for them to leave this place entirely. In the
end, the whole point of meeting here had been the absolutely
unremarkable nature of the establishment, and that hadn’t changed.

As such, Eli didn’t hesitate and obediently trailed after the

bloodkin. As they reached the top floor, the other man entered one of
the rooms, and Eli did the same. Once they were behind closed doors,
the bloodkin turned toward Eli once again and said, “Perhaps we
should introduce ourselves now.”

Eli nodded, and in a sign of goodwill, allowed his glamour to

fade. “My name is Eli Starburst. I’m here to discuss the welfare of a
dear friend.”

A spark of interest appeared in the bloodkin’s dark eyes. “Ah, yes.

Kier Darksun. I believe he got himself in quite a predicament.”

As he spoke, the bloodkin dropped his own glamour. Eli didn’t

know what he’d expected to see. He’d met bloodkin before, and very
attractive ones at that. Personally, he had never understood the appeal,
never grasped the reason why his friend had decided to forego
everything he’d ever known for a member of that species.

However, as he stood there and looked at Dante Bloodclaw—the

identity of his companion was unmistakable now—Eli was struck by
the incredible beauty of the other man. His deep black eyes had
offered a hint of the man’s looks, but it didn’t truly strike home until
now. Dante had almost androgynous features, his long blond hair tied
in a neat braid. And yet, there was something wild about him, a sense
of barely leashed power that made Eli shiver. And those eyes…They

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seemed even more shocking now, deep pools of fathomless black.
Distantly, Eli thought that he could have easily drowned in them.

Shaking himself, Eli focused on the reason why he’d summoned

Dante here in the first place. All right, so the bloodkin was attractive.
That didn’t change what Eli needed to do. He was well aware of his
priorities, and they didn’t include drooling over the youngest bloodkin
prince.

“Yes,” he said, after a pause that seemed too long even to his own

ears. The concern for his friend gave him something to focus on that
wasn’t Dante’s full, oh-so-kissable lips. “Is Kier all right?”
Remembering Marlais Hayden’s request, he hastily added, “I’m also
interested in the welfare of Vane Bloodmoor.”

“For the moment, they’re both as unharmed as can be expected,”

Dante replied. “However, I expect that to change soon.”

Eli took a deep breath, memories of his long years spent with Kier

flashing through his mind. He couldn’t allow it. There had to be a way
to save his friend. “Can you help me rescue them?”

Dante hummed thoughtfully. “Why should I? What do I gain out

of all of this? And what’s your interest in Vane Bloodmoor? I can
understand a possible friendship with the dark elf, but Lord
Bloodmoor isn’t in that situation.”

“There is someone else, a human who is very worried for him,”

Eli replied honestly. “I’d have brought him with me, but I decided
against it since I didn’t know how risky this entire meeting was.”

“I see,” Dante answered, plopping down onto the bed and crossing

his legs. “But you still haven’t addressed my first questions. You’re
asking me to jeopardize my position, perhaps even my life. My father
doesn’t take being thwarted lightly. Why should I do it?”

Eli’s heart started to race as he watched Dante stretch

languorously on the bed. That simply wasn’t fair. He didn’t know if
the bloodkin was deliberately trying to seduce him, but he would not,
could not allow it.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

“For the same reason why you chose to come to this meeting in

the first place,” he replied without missing a beat.

Dante shrugged. “I was curious. Your message intrigued me.

There hasn’t been a real contact between the ruling families of the
bloodkin and the elves in centuries, even if we share a common
ancestry. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Eli had come here prepared to discuss that, in spite of his general

discomfort with the historical blunders of his kind. He had to admit
that he secretly thought the elven half-breeds who were the bloodkin’s
ancestors had been treated very poorly, and much of the problems
between the various species could have been avoided if only Eli’s
kind had shown more understanding, a better approach. But elves had
always been heavily engrained in tradition, as proven by the fact that
Eli’s own father had once sent Kier away to separate the two of them.

There was no point of saying any of that now. The past didn’t

matter, only the present. Eli was the only one who could make sure
Kier even had a future. “I looked into your approach toward your
father’s new policies. I believe you don’t approve of some of his
behavior.”

“That might well be,” Dante said, “but a difference in opinions

doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly decide to go against him in something so
serious.”

Eli gave up on reasoning with the man. “All right. What’s your

price?”

He didn’t have time to play games, and while he and Dante kept

dancing around each other, time was running out for Kier.

Dante’s lips twisted in a small, almost unpleasant smile. “You’re

in love with him, with the dark elf. So what are you willing to pay?”

Eli just remained silent. If he said anything else, it would

undoubtedly be used against him, and that was something he needed
to avoid at all costs. Dante’s grin widened at that. “Your answer is
satisfactory. Come here.”

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What could Eli do? He complied. As he walked toward the bed,

his gaze met Dante’s. For a few moments, time seemed to stop. Eli’s
natural apprehension melted into something else which he couldn’t
quite identify. There was hunger in those black eyes, one Eli had
never been the recipient of. He was by no means an innocent from a
sexual point of view, but never once had he seen such desire.

He didn’t know if Dante was using some sort of hypnotizing

ability on him, perhaps a glamour of sorts. He suspected bloodkin
were, as a whole, capable of such things. But right then and there, he
couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt drawn to the bloodkin like a
moth to the flame.

When he finally reached the bed, he stopped, glancing down at

Dante and waiting for further instructions. For whatever reason,
Dante’s previous displeasure seemed to have disappeared. “Kneel,”
he ordered, his voice filled with gravel.

Eli dropped to his knees, as if he could no longer hold himself up.

He felt like he’d lost all control over his own body. He was wholly
under Dante’s thrall, a willing slave to Dante’s power.

It should have frightened him, but it didn’t. Instead, an odd calm

settled over him, as if a voice whispered in his ear that everything
would be all right. He’d been so very scared ever since he’d learned
what had happened to Kier. He’d tried to ignore that terror, to focus
on coming up with a solution, and he’d kept his erratic emotions in
check only because he was well aware that he needed to be strong.
But now, he suddenly felt like he could let go of it all, that he needn’t
fear anything anymore.

As he sat on the floor, he realized that he was effectively facing

Dante’s crotch. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Dante
appreciated the attention. The bloodkin’s dick strained against the
material of his pants, as if reaching out for Eli. And Dante seemed
quite generously endowed indeed, judging by the size of the bulge.
Eli’s head started to spin, the musk of male desire getting to him.
Moving like in a dream, he reached for the bindings of Dante’s pants,

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

suddenly eager, no, desperate to get to the magnificent cock hidden
beneath.

To his surprise, Dante seemed of a different mind. He reached for

Eli’s hands and stopped him before he could complete his self-
appointed task. “No,” he said. “I was wrong. Not like this.”

Eli had no idea what Dante meant. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t

ask the questions bubbling in his throat. In fact, he was so dazed that
when Dante pulled him back up, he ended up falling right on top of
the bloodkin. By accident, he straddled Dante’s midsection in such a
way that his ass ground against Dante’s dick.

Before he could do anything to use this current situation, Dante

rolled them around, pushing Eli back onto the bed. A strange power
flowed over him, pinning Eli’s wrists above his head. In all honesty,
Eli didn’t think being subdued was necessary since he had no
intentions of fighting back. At some point during his conversation
with Dante, his bones and his will seemed to have melted. He was
lost, and he didn’t want to find himself.

“I am going to be blunt, Eli Starburst,” Dante whispered in his ear.

“I desire you more than anything I remember wanting in my life. But
a pretty face won’t make me trust you, so I’m going to have to taste
your blood.”

Eli had always found the entire process of blood drinking

distasteful. He’d never been able to fathom how Kier had accepted it
for years. He couldn’t have said that the apprehension had magically
disappeared, but at the same time, Eli found that he almost looked
forward to the bite. The desire burning in Dante’s eyes made Eli want
to truly experience what Dante offered.

It was so incredibly strange. Dante wasn’t asking for permission.

He’d explained the reason why they had to go through this process.
And yet, he didn’t move, watching Eli with those impossibly black
eyes.

Unable to speak, Eli tilted his head in silent acquiescence. Dante

released a slow growl, almost animalistic in nature, and instants later,

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a feeling unlike anything Eli had ever experienced burst through him.
As Dante’s fangs pierced his flesh, Eli was invaded by a pain so sharp
it tumbled into pleasure. Arching against Dante, Eli found himself
trembling and whimpering, needing to reach out to Dante, but unable
to because of the bloodkin’s strong hold on him. The suction against
his neck almost seemed directed at his dick, because the damned
member throbbed and pulsed, demanding Dante’s touch.

This time, Dante’s frustrating ability to keep himself in check

failed him. He did release his hold on Eli’s neck, perhaps concerned
of what effect the blood loss would have on Eli. However, Eli didn’t
even get to protest the fading of the mind-numbing rapture as Dante
suddenly crushed their mouths together.

The kiss was violent, almost angry, and so intense it made Eli’s

brain short-circuit. He couldn’t focus on anything else except kissing
back, moaning as Dante thrust his tongue into Eli’s wet cavern.
Already, Eli was almost on the brink of coming, as this simple lip-
lock felt better than some of the sex Eli had experienced, particularly
since his separation from Kier.

That stray thought sent a bucket of ice water over Eli’s passion.

Kier…Oh, Mother Earth, he was still in danger, and while Eli was
making out with a bloodkin, his friend might very well be fighting for
his life.

Dante must have noticed Eli’s change in attitude as he broke the

kiss and pulled away. “All right. We have some important issues to
deal with, so we can’t handle this right now. But we will. I promise
you, we will.”

Eli felt strangely bereft when Dante left the bed and got up. “I’m

going to help you, Eli,” the bloodkin said. “Since you’ve trusted me
with such a private thing, I’m going to trust you. But be prepared. It
will be far more complicated than you expected.”

As he looked at Dante, Eli had the sudden feeling that the

situation had already gone way out of hand. From the very moment
he’d looked into Dante’s eyes, he’d lost control. The most difficult

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

complication to handle had already appeared, and it was the strange
bloodkin prince who had suddenly become the biggest threat to Eli.
What did his peculiar vulnerability to Dante mean? Could he
withstand it, now of all times? Eli didn’t know, and that scared him.

* * * *

The next day

Bloodkin were renowned for their ruthlessness and bloodthirsty

ways. The royal family was often the most merciless one of all the
clans. In fact, Dante’s grandfather had been assassinated by his uncle,
years before Dante’s birth.

Therefore, one could have said that patricide ran in the family.

However, Dante had always been disgusted by the notion, by the mere
idea of someone wanting to harm his beloved father. Aran had been
everything to him, and from him, Dante had learned the concepts of
justice, faith, and fairness, things that went far beyond bloodkin
limitations.

And yet, here he was, on the way to his father’s quarters, with a

clear plan to assassinate Aran in mind. He had Marlais Hayden with
him, and he was relying on the young human’s obvious appeal to
ensnare his father and deceive Aran’s sharp senses. Marlais’s blood
contained a potent poison that could kill any bloodkin, and if Aran
tried to feed on the human, it would kill him.

Even as he walked through the corridors of the imperial palace,

though, a part of Dante was still screaming in protest. In his heart, he
knew he was doing the right thing. In recent years, his father had
grown increasingly unstable, and now he was threatening to dissolve
the Covenant altogether. Dante couldn’t allow that. For the memory
of the father who’d taught him so many things, he couldn’t let this
Aran destroy everything his beloved sire had worked so hard for.

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Still, as much as Dante tried to isolate those two sides of Aran

from each other, the fact remained that, if everything went as planned,
Aran would be dead by the end of the day. The thought honestly made
Dante sick to the stomach.

Perhaps he’d have given up, unable to continue because of the

natural affection he still held toward his father. However, he’d met Eli
Starburst. He was so very different from the light elf, and in many
ways, their priorities were not in the least bit similar. Eli had gone
against everything the elves stood for to seek Dante out so that he
could save Kier. In the meantime, Dante was attempting to kill the
father he loved so much for the good of the people. The contrast
seemed staggering.

And yet, at the very core of their desires stood the same truth.

Both of them were doing what they thought was right. Having Eli
there, with him, reminded Dante of that.

Fortunately, both Eli and Vane Bloodmoor—whom Dante had

managed to save from his imprisonment—had put up strong glamours
that would keep anyone from noticing them. Their presence would
likely be essential if they wanted to get out of there in one piece.

Dante didn’t fool himself. He knew that Aran’s death would likely

plunge the bloodkin world into chaos, especially since Dante’s older
brother, Gideon, was likely to pursue policies as aggressive as the
ones their father was currently focusing on. But Dante hadn’t jumped
into this without giving it a lot of thought. He had many other
bloodkin rallying behind him, ready to support him in taking over
once Aran was dead.

At last, the four of them reached Aran’s quarters. As it turned out,

the moment they entered the room, Dante was faced with a scene that
convinced him even more of his father’s instability. Aran was
attempting to force his lover, Cole, into killing Kier Darksun. Cole
didn’t seem inclined to obey, something which didn’t surprise Dante.
Even he knew that Cole Bloodmoor was completely obsessed with
Kier.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Hoping to distract Aran, Dante stepped into the room. “Greetings,

Father,” he said. “Am I interrupting something important?”

His father turned toward him and smiled, although it didn’t reach

his eyes. “Not really, although I taught you better manners than to just
burst in like this.”

“Apologies, Sire,” Dante replied hastily. “I didn’t think it would

bother you.”

Aran chuckled. “It doesn’t. If anything, I should be thankful.

Lately, I need to watch my back all the time.”

The undertone of his words immediately put Dante on alarm. In

that moment, he knew that it was highly unlike that his plan would go
as he’d hoped. Nevertheless, he didn’t even blink at the comment.

“That’s why we are here, my lord,” he answered, “so you

wouldn’t have to worry.”

He didn’t know if Aran was convinced, but nevertheless the older

bloodkin decided to inquire into the reasons of Dante’s visit. Dante
took the offered opportunity and pushed Marlais forward, explaining,
“I bring a gift. Since His Majesty did not enjoy my present a fortnight
ago, I decided to try again.”

In recent weeks, he and Aran had fought many times. Dante had

attempted to make Aran return to his older perspective, and he’d
decided to give him a copy of the Covenant, written by Dante’s own
hand. It was a time-consuming task and a labor of love, an attempt to
show Aran how much Dante cared. It had been useless. The Imperator
had ripped the scroll into pieces and furiously ordered him out of the
room.

Now, however, Aran almost seemed pleased. “Oh, Dante. Always

so thoughtful. I wish your brothers were a little more like you.”

Dante swallowed convulsively, the words like a dagger in his

heart. He was a breath away from stopping the plan, from foregoing
everything he’d built with such difficulty. But it was too late, and he
had no possible explanations why he’d now refuse to give his father
his present.

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Directing his attention at Marlais, Aran analyzed him with keen

eyes. “He is, indeed, quite a beauty. Have you sampled him?”

Dante shook his head. “No, Sire. I did scent his blood. I believe

you will find him delicious.”

“Let’s taste him then, shall we?”
Dante held his breath as his father pulled Marlais toward him, his

fangs raking against the human’s throat. He wanted to scream, and he
didn’t even know what result he was hoping for. In the end the
decision was taken out of his hands.

“Do you take me for a fool, Dante?” his sire sneered. “I know how

treason smells, and I know a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one.”

From that point on, all facades were dropped. Dante tried to

convince his father of his good intentions, but his lies tasted bitter on
his own tongue and had no effect on Aran. In fact, he only seemed to
make Aran angrier, so much so that in an outburst of temper, Aran
retrieved his knife, the Imperial Blade passed on from generation to
generation to every bloodkin leader, a weapon that was said to be
deadly for any of their kind.

Furious, Aran threw the knife toward Cole Bloodmoor. Dante

didn’t even know how and why he moved. He just had so many
regrets, the frustration of his failure, the pain of his inability to reach
out to his father, the shame of his attempt to murder Aran. He didn’t
want any more bloodshed. He simply wished for what he’d always
wanted, peace.

Eli wanted it as well. Perhaps that was the reason why Dante’s

heart had connected with that of the elf. They hadn’t even had the
time to explore their strange connection, but Eli had already come to
mean a lot to Dante.

He didn’t know what it meant, and it appeared that he wouldn’t

get the chance to find out. Instead of striking Cole, the knife hit
Dante, straight in the chest. For a few seconds, Dante was actually
shocked. He stared at the blade protruding from his flesh, unable to

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

believe what was happening to him. And then, excruciating pain burst
through him, and he crumbled to the floor, drained of strength.

It seemed obvious that some things about his father hadn’t

changed, as instants later, Aran dropped to his side, trying to reach out
to him, already calling for medical help. Dante took Aran’s hand and
squeezed it tightly, meeting those eyes that were so much like his
own. His life was already fading, and no one could help him. But he
could still do something. He could prevent Aran from making a
horrible mistake that would cost their kind dearly. “Promise me,” he
said. “Promise me you won’t break the Covenant and you won’t ever
let anyone do so.”

“I promise,” his father said, sounding dazed and broken.
There were so many other things Dante would have liked to say,

but already his world was starting to dim around the edges. Over his
father’s shoulder, he noticed Eli standing there, looking pale and
obviously wanting to come forward. He was losing control of the
glamour. Dante couldn’t allow it. If Eli drew attention to himself,
Aran would undoubtedly hurt him.

Perhaps Dante had been unable to love Eli like the elf deserved. In

his heart, he had wanted to give Eli the affection he’d craved so much.
He had seen it, that first time they’d met. He’d tasted it in Eli’s blood.
Eli still had so much to live for. Dante had to make sure the elf was
safe.

With that thought in mind, he tried to tell his father what he

wanted. “And that…you won’t h–hurt…I want El…”

All of a sudden, his voice no longer obeyed him, and he couldn’t

finish the phrase. Desperate, Dante looked at Eli once again and
mouthed, “Go. Live.”

It was the last thing he managed to do. After that, his world turned

into pure darkness, and he fell into an abyss of absolute blackness and
regret.

Was this death? If so, it would be unending torture, forever

reliving his failures, not knowing what his choices had triggered,

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fearing and doubting, thinking about the people he’d left behind, and
wishing he’d been able to spend more time with Eli.

It was so unfair that he had to lose Eli so soon, before they’d even

managed to get to know each other. Dante screamed, but he couldn’t
even hear himself, the void of death absorbing every sound he might
have tried to make.

And then, the darkness began to fade, and something like a green

light engulfed him, a kind warmth that attempted to smooth out
Dante’s sorrow and loss. It was the love of Mother Earth, one Dante
often felt when he prayed. This time, however, it simply didn’t
suffice.

As much as Dante would have liked to succumb to the peace

Mother Earth offered, he couldn’t find it. There was no up or down in
this place, and no way to even know if Eli was safe. For all he knew,
his father had captured the elf and was hurting him for some sort of
misguided vengeance.

That thought sent a wave of despair through Dante, one so

powerful that he clawed back against the force holding him here. At
first, he almost thought Mother Earth would keep him trapped, but
instead, he sensed the unbreakable chains holding him bound
loosening. A golden thread uncoiled toward him from somewhere
above him. Dante reached out to it, and all of a sudden, he found
himself propelled upward, flying with a speed that made his head
spin.

The same darkness encroached on Dante’s vision, and then it

slowly melted into something else, an image he could barely
distinguish. As it cleared, Dante realized he was seeing a camp fire,
with Vane Bloodmoor and Marlais Hayden sitting around it. Kier, Eli,
and Cole were nowhere to be seen. A wave of panic settled in Dante’s
heart, but then he grasped something else. He could feel Eli, just like
he had when he’d drunk the elf’s blood.

Taking a deep breath, Dante struggled to steady himself and leave

behind the gloom of death. As he managed to get a grip on his

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

emotions, he finally spotted the object of his concern and affections.
Eli stood straight next to him, rigid and staring into the darkness of
the night as if seeking for answers. Eli was keeping watch, Dante
realized, although he couldn’t exactly tell where they were located.
And, oh, Eli was as beautiful as the evening when he and Dante had
met, but his fair complexion had now turned pale and his gold eyes
looked haunted.

On instinct, Dante reached out for Eli, gently touching the elf’s

cheek. Eli shivered, but didn’t turn. He rubbed his chest, as if
suffering from some strange ache. “Oh, Dante…” he whispered
brokenly. “Why?”

He obviously didn’t realize Dante was there, and mourned

Dante’s death. It was so very strange, to see Eli show such sorrow
over something Dante hadn’t been able to fully accept. Once again,
Dante touched Eli, this time tugging on a stray lock of long blond. It
moved slightly, although not as much as it should have if he’d been in
a truly corporeal form. It was a cruel reminder, but Dante didn’t let it
dishearten him. He was here with Eli. He’d focus on that for now, and
not on what he’d lost.

“Eli,” he murmured in the elf’s ear. “I’m sorry, baby.”
This time, Eli looked in Dante’s direction, his eyes wide.

“Dante?” he asked.

“Yes, Eli,” Dante quickly answered, excited that the elf could hear

him. “I’m here.”

Eli shook his head and took a step back, almost stumbling in his

haste to move away. Only the natural grace of the elves kept him from
falling. “No. Get out of my head. I’m losing my mind.”

“Please don’t run,” Dante said, stepping forward. “I came back for

you.”

Eli’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

“How…You’re dead. I saw you die.”

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Dante grimaced. “Don’t remind me. It’s not the most pleasant

experience. But…I couldn’t leave you. I was worried Father would
harm you in retaliation.”

For a few moments, Eli just stared at him. He then came back to

Dante’s side and extended his hand. He could obviously see Dante
now, if he hadn’t before.

“It’s really you…It’s not a dream.”
As Eli’s fingers reached out to him to cup his cheek, Dante

waited, uncertain as to what he should expect. He knew that, in all
likelihood, Eli wouldn’t be able to touch him like before. And yet,
when Eli’s digits made contact, he felt them, felt their warmth and
their gentleness at the very core of his being. Yes, the sensation had
changed, but just the fact that he could experience it meant the world
to Dante.

“It’s not a dream,” he told Eli. It could have easily been a

nightmare, but it was their reality, and one that could have ended up
much worse. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make this work somehow.”

Eli just nodded silently, already looking a little livelier. Unable to

hold back, Dante brushed his lips over Eli’s in a brief kiss. It was very
different from the ones they’d shared in the inn, but what mattered
was that, in a way, they were still together. Dante didn’t know what
he’d do, but he could only hope Mother Earth would guide him. In his
heart, he knew he and Eli were meant to be. He’d been given a second
chance to make sure it happened.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Chapter Two

A few days later

“Thank you for everything,” Vane Bloodmoor said as he shook

Eli’s hand. “I don’t think Moss and I could have gotten out of there
alive without your help.”

Eli nodded, although he felt uncomfortable with Vane’s gratitude.

At times, a small part of him wished he’d never intervened. If he’d
stayed out of the situation, Dante might not have died. But then, Kier
would have suffered the consequences. It was so hard to have to make
a choice between two people he cared about so much. And how had
Dante become so important to him in less than a week? Having the
bloodkin’s ghost haunting him must be getting to Eli’s head.

Shaking himself, Eli finally replied, “I had to help Kier, for old

times’ sake.”

“He does care about you,” Vane offered. “It’s just…His

relationship with Cole…”

Eli waved a hand, interrupting Vane’s words. “I know. I

understand it now. I hope they manage to be happy.”

Kier and Cole had left their group shortly after their escape from

Tachaka, presumably to warn Marlais’s uncle of a possible retribution
from the Imperator’s part. Similarly, Vane, Eli, and Marlais had gone
to Elmya, where they’d picked up Marlais’s family. Now, the humans
were safe in Manturanael, while Eli was banished.

In a mysterious act of selflessness, Vane had left Marlais in the

elven lands, claiming that Marlais deserved a better life than the one
he could offer. This brought Eli and Vane, alone on the continent.

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Since they had virtually nothing in common, they had eventually
decided to part ways.

“I wish for that, too,” Vane mused. “Good-bye, Eli. And good

luck.”

Without further ado, Vane got on his horse—one of the bloodkin

mounts they’d stolen from Tachaka—and rode away. Eli watched him
go with a measure of relief. To a certain extent, he liked Vane, but he
needed privacy to solve his more recent problem.

“Well, I guess it’s just the two of us now,” he told Dante.
By his side, the dead bloodkin prince appeared. His form was a

little translucent, but still identical to what Eli remembered. It was
surreal, and sometimes, Eli had to pinch himself so that he’d actually
believe he wasn’t dreaming.

Like all elves, he had great faith in Mother Earth. However, he’d

never heard of a spirit lingering in the world of the living. Even so, he
couldn’t exactly complain. Having Dante like this was far better than
not having him at all. Just the thought made him recall the moment
when he’d seen Dante die, and he shivered, still tasting terror in his
mouth.

“Are you all right?” Dante inquired.
“Yes,” Eli replied automatically. When Dante gave him a

skeptical look, Eli sighed and plopped down on the grass, in the
shadow of a nearby tree. “It’s just hard. I almost…I can’t accept it.”

For a few moments, Dante didn’t answer. He seemed to be

attempting to figure out the meaning of Eli’s words. “I’m sorry,” the
bloodkin said. “I know my presence is a burden for—”

“No!” Eli shouted. “That’s not it. You’d never be a burden to me.”
Dante threw him a skeptical look. “I’m sorry if I have doubts

believing that.”

“It’s true,” Eli insisted. “I admit I don’t fully understand it. A few

weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other. But I believe everything
happens for a reason, and I think that there’s something between us, a
bond of sorts.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

At that, Dante’s lips twisted into a small smile. “Quite. You do

realize that you’re the only reason why I came back, right?”

Dante had said that before, although he hadn’t forced Eli to

acknowledge any responsibility in the matter. In truth, neither of them
knew what Dante’s new form implied, but if Eli had inadvertently
managed to reach out to the bloodkin even in the realm of the dead, he
could only be grateful to Mother Earth that She’d allowed Dante to
respond and return to his side.

In any case, that didn’t change the fact that Dante deserved better

than this. He deserved a real life, not an undeath, a ghostly existence
that could only be a shadow of what he’d experienced before.

“If that’s true,” he told Dante, “I wish I could do more. I wish I

could fully bring you back, to the way you were.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible,” Dante said glumly. “My body

wouldn’t have disintegrated since I’m too young for that to happen.
However, my father has likely burned it already, or will do so soon.”

Eli’s stomach roiled at the words. He simply couldn’t imagine

Dante’s beautiful form consumed by ruthless flames. Eli had only had
the chance to touch Dante once before the tragedy, but it had still
branded him with a desire he didn’t think he could ever quench.
Sitting here, with Dante by his side, he felt as if fate was taunting him
with what he couldn’t have. It hurt, but he consoled himself with the
thought that, in the end, he’d been shown more generosity than he
likely deserved. He would not be ungrateful, no matter how angry the
injustice of it all made him.

The whirlpool of emotions inside him finally prodded him to do

something he himself hadn’t expected. He extended his hand toward
Dante and brushed his fingers over the bloodkin’s cheek. He hadn’t
dared to do that until now, afraid of what he might find. For his part,
Dante hadn’t pushed him, perhaps feeling as anxious as Eli. But now
that Eli did have the courage, he was shocked to note that Dante’s
skin felt strikingly solid to the touch.

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Both he and Dante gasped at the same time. “Oh, baby,” Dante

murmured sounding lost and overwhelmed. “I can feel you.”

Eli didn’t even have words. This was different from what he’d

experienced that first night when Dante had returned to him. It was a
sensation of deep emotional connection, but also a physical one,
something which Eli hadn’t expected.

Taking advantage of this chance, Eli leaned in closer to Dante.

Dante met him halfway, and their mouths came together in a kiss that
took Eli’s breath away.

Suddenly in his arms, Dante pinned Eli against the trunk of the

tree. Losing himself in the bloodkin’s caresses, Eli parted his lips,
wordlessly demanding more. Dante didn’t delay in taking the
invitation, and thrust his tongue into Eli’s mouth.

It was beautiful, this coming together, just as good as Eli

remembered their first kiss to have been. No, it wasn’t the same, as
some of the physicality of it had morphed into something Eli couldn’t
quite identify. Nevertheless, Dante’s taste, his passion remained
identical, and it was easy, so very easy to forget everything beyond
this moment and this man.

Dante’s hands worked the buttons of Eli’s shirt. Eli helped as

much as he could, uncertain as to the limitations of their situation, not
knowing how much he would be able to move without disturbing this
half-dream, half-reality. In the end, they managed to get rid of Eli’s
upper garments without too much trouble. Dante smoothed pale hands
over Eli’s chest, tweaking his nipples and setting off small explosions
through Eli’s body.

When Eli groaned in passion, Dante separated their mouths and

started exploring the rest of Eli’s body. He nibbled on Eli’s earlobe,
and from there, he progressed toward Eli’s neck, tracing the largest
vein with his tongue. It was the same spot where Dante had bitten him
during their first meeting. He didn’t bite now, and Eli got the
impression that he couldn’t actually do it. However, he didn’t get to
dwell on that thought too much, as Dante’s wicked, talented tongue

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

played havoc on Eli’s body. It swirled over Eli’s collarbone, finding
sensitive spots Eli hadn’t even known about. And when Dante’s
strikingly hot mouth settled over Eli’s nipples, Eli almost came. It
wasn’t that other lovers didn’t pay attention to the tiny nubs. They
did. Kier in particular had always been very aware of their sensitivity.
But Dante went a step further. He bit down on the buds, giving Eli
just a hint of pain. Eli wouldn’t have thought he was into such kinks.
He’d never tried testing it before, but neither had he felt the need to
do so.

Yes, something had been missing. He could see that now. Just

these first few rough caresses enflamed Eli more than entire nights
spent with some of his kind. His dick ached with the need to come,
and he writhed under Dante, needing more, needing release.

He was so out of control that he didn’t even know what he was

doing or saying. He just needed skin to skin. He needed to be touched,
held, kissed, fucked, taken, and marked as belonging to Dante.

Fortunately, Dante seemed to be able to focus a little better than

Eli. Even as he continued his torment of Eli’s nipples, his strong
hands traveled over Eli’s abdomen all the way to the bindings of his
pants. It took a mere couple of seconds for the bloodkin to be able to
get rid of the flimsy resistance protecting Eli’s body from sight, and
then, his hot fist slipped into Eli’s trousers and enclosed his erection.
Eli almost didn’t recognize the cry he himself let out, an agonized
shout of unfulfilled desire and desperate want, a vocalization of a
sensual torture he’d never had thought possible. And still, Dante
didn’t lose control. His black eyes were completely focused, taking in
Eli’s face with almost eerie concentration. However, in their dark
depths, Eli saw lust, the same lust Eli himself experienced, untamed
like a fire burning through the wilderness, consuming everything in its
path. As Dante rubbed his thumb over the head of Eli’s erection, Eli
could do nothing but submit to Dante’s ministrations and hope his
brain didn’t short-circuit at the onslaught of pleasure.

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Time seemed to gain new meaning as Dante played Eli’s body

like a virtuoso would a musical instrument. At one point, the bloodkin
managed to push off Eli’s pants, although it took some wriggling and
effort from Eli’s part as well. They had to remove Eli’s boots first,
which meant he temporarily had to give up the mind-numbing
pleasure Dante’s caresses brought him. However, it turned out to be
worth it, especially when Dante disrobed as well.

While Eli had to take the long boring way, Dante seemed to just

will his clothing off. The garments evaporated into thin air, leaving
Dante naked, a sight that called out to Eli’s every sense. He was more
beautiful than the sight of dawn over Manturanael, more arousing
than the seductive sirens in the ancient tales, to the extent that Eli
almost couldn’t believe this was truly happening. He pushed away
that thought, and the doubts that came with it and focused on what his
heart and body wanted, Dante.

Extending his arms toward the bloodkin, Eli beckoned Dante to

him. He had no words to say, nothing that could express this urge in
his heart, this almost insane need to belong to Dante, to be one with
his soon-to-be lover. It went beyond the boundaries of reason, but Eli
was done asking questions. He had the most important answer deep
within his soul, and he had the sudden knowledge that similar
emotions dwelled inside Dante.

And then, thoughts melted into nearly incoherent ideas as Dante

pressed their mouths, and their bodies, together. Their dicks came into
contact, slick heads rubbing against each other. Eli wrapped his arms
around Dante’s neck, wanting to pull the bloodkin even closer, to fuse
their beings so that no one could ever part them.

At the same time, he spread his legs, accommodating Dante better,

offering himself to the bloodkin. Dante bit his lip lightly, and while
Eli suspected that normally, he’d have drawn blood, it didn’t happen
now. Nevertheless, the light pain was there, and it made Eli’s dick
jump and pulse with frustrated desire. He needed more. He craved
everything Dante was and had to give.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

When they broke away once again, Eli half expected for Dante to

return to his earlier, teasing caresses. Instead, the bloodkin went
straight for the gold. Crawling lower down over Eli’s body, he
brought his delicious, wicked mouth over Eli’s dick. Eli held his
breath, anticipation coursing through him, his blood boiling with lust.
And then, wet heat engulfed Eli’s dick and pleasure exploded over Eli
as his new lover took his cock all the way into his throat. Ecstasy
coiled within every inch of him, and brought each and every nerve
ending to life. Volcanic rapture flared through Eli, and as Dante began
to bob his head up and down his shaft, Eli knew that he would not
last. Unable to hold back, he threaded his fingers through Dante’s
long hair, loving the silky feel of it. Unleashing sharp, inarticulate
cries, he started to fuck Dante’s mouth, seeking out his pleasure and
his completion.

Dante seemed of a similar mind, as he employed every possible

trick to drive Eli insane with lust. In fact, he appeared to be intent on
making Eli come with due haste, as if Eli’s climax was the most
important thing, no, the only thing on his mind. He pursued this goal
with such single-minded intensity that soon, Eli was on the brink of
orgasm.

And then, as if the torture of his mouth hadn’t been enough, Dante

decided to add another layer of sensation. A dry finger rubbed against
Eli’s opening, offering a hint of dark delights. Slowly, the digit
wormed its way into Eli’s rectum.

The pressure, the burn, and the promise of rapture sent Eli over

the edge. Calling out Dante’s name one more time, Eli came, shooting
his seed into Dante’s mouth. At the last moment, the bloodkin
released his dick, causing Eli’s sperm to splatter over his face. It was
actually a little strange, because, by rights, Dante didn’t have a solid
body that could support physical substances. However, this didn’t
seem to matter now, which was quite fortunate, because Eli couldn’t
get his mind to focus on upsetting realities anyway. He was flying,
soaring on the wings of his surprising climax, wanting to reach out to

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Dante, wanting to give the bloodkin the same pleasure he himself had
received.

Dante had his own plans, though. He gathered Eli’s spunk on his

fingers and brought them to Eli’s opening again. Still shivering from
his orgasm, Eli found his body and his libido responding once more
when Dante started to stretch him. His dick twitched and went rock
hard, and Eli couldn’t help but push back against those invading digits
that felt so very good inside him. As those lovely, wicked fingers slid
inside, over and over, the fire of Eli’s lust began to flare even brighter
than before, his need for Dante just fueled by his previous climax.

He didn’t have the patience to wait for Dante to prepare him more

elaborately. In his heart, he was too afraid that he might lose this, lose
Dante. Burying his fingernails into Dante’s shoulders, he said,
“Please, Dante. Fuck me.”

Dante chuckled darkly. “I give the orders around here, baby, not

you. Always remember that.”

As he spoke, Dante crooked his fingers inside Eli, in the process

hitting Eli’s prostate. Eli’s mind just about melted, but he did know
that he was at Dante’s mercy. Dante was the one calling the shots, and
Eli could do nothing but submit to the bloodkin’s domination. Mother
Earth, why did that thought excite Eli so much?

With his free hand, Dante squeezed Eli’s hip, drawing his

attention. “I do wonder what you’re thinking about to cause that
expression.” He spoke idly and calmly, as if he was completely
ignoring the fact that he was finger-fucking Eli. “Perhaps I’m boring
you.”

“N–no,” Eli stammered. “Not boring me at all.”
Dante’s eyes glimmered with amusement and satisfaction. “Is that

right? Well then, let me ask you this. Do you trust me?”

The question put somewhat of a damper on Eli’s enthusiasm. It

was a serious inquiry, one that shouldn’t have been made when they
were together like this. Perhaps Dante knew it as well, because he
seemed to debate pulling away, to give Eli time to find an answer.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

That would have been pointless and unnecessary since no matter

what, Eli’s reply would be the same. “Yes. Absolutely.”

He had no idea when that had happened, but he did trust Dante,

with his life, his soul, and his body. The bloodkin smiled at him,
although this grin seemed somewhat different from the one before.
Grateful, maybe? “Good,” Dante said. “Now, hold onto the tree trunk
and don’t move your hands no matter what. Can you do that for me?”

Eli hated not touching Dante, but he automatically obeyed. There

was just something about the bloodkin prince that spoke to a part of
him he hadn’t even dared to understand before. He released Dante’s
shoulders and reached for the tree. It was old, and as he clung to it,
the grooves on its trunk raked across his palms. The sensation was
familiar, and it didn’t bring any discomfort. He’d had sex in the
shadow of trees many times before, back in Manturanael. And yet,
this was somehow different. Even if the actual scene might bear
striking resemblances to things he’d done in the past with Kier or
other elves, simply the fact that Dante was here instead made
it…more.

“Now, close your eyes.”
Again, Eli would have liked to keep his gaze on Dante, but he

complied. Now unable to see Dante, he remained nevertheless aware
of the bloodkin’s every move. It was as if his every sense was sharply
attuned to Dante’s motions, like his body reacted to everything the
other man did. Cutting himself off from the bliss of watching and
touching Dante made a new wave of sexual frustration flow over him,
adding to the one already building up due to the bloodkin’s skilled
ministrations. And all the while, Dante’s fingers kept working him,
stretching him, preparing him for the inevitable.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dante must have deemed

him ready. He removed his digits from Eli’s body and lifted Eli’s legs
on his shoulders. The thick head of his dick nudged against Eli’s
opening. And then, in one single, smooth thrust, Dante slid home.

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It felt…Eli didn’t even have words for it. He couldn’t hope to be

able to describe the sensations that assaulted him at Dante’s
penetration. But then, he didn’t have to speak. He didn’t have to
think. Words and ideas didn’t matter. Only emotions did, and sweet
Mother Earth, they swamped Eli in a hurricane that threatened to tear
asunder every concept of bliss Eli had ever come up with, shattering
every boundary he might have tried to put up.

It didn’t hurt, although it probably should have. Dante did seem

very generously endowed, and his girth stretched Eli, filling him to
capacity. There was a certain burn, but no real discomfort, and while
it did puzzle Eli, he didn’t let it distract him from what truly mattered,
the beautiful, delicious pleasure.

For a few moments, Dante stilled inside him, perhaps meaning to

let Eli adjust. Eli clutched the tree trunk tighter, struggling not to
reach out to Dante, not to force him deeper. Thankfully, Dante must
have noticed his tension since he pulled out and thrust back in, so
hard Eli would have been propelled forward if not for his grip on the
tree.

Shocked and shaken, Eli could do nothing but hang in for the ride.

Dante started a nearly punishing rhythm, pegging Eli’s gland with
every stroke, sending him flying higher and higher on new peaks of
rapture. At one point, Eli managed to gain some sort of the balance
and started pushing back, fucking himself on the bloodkin’s dick.

Dante responded by increasing the speed and violence of his

thrusts, moving faster and faster, almost frantically, as if he couldn’t
get deep enough inside Eli, as if no matter how much he tried, he
simply couldn’t satisfy his burning need for Eli. Eli knew all this
because he felt the same for Dante. It was sweet agony, and he needed
to come so badly that he thought he would explode, but at the same
time, he wanted it to never end.

He didn’t dare to open his eyes or let go of the tree, lest he destroy

the beauty of the moment. Instead, he let go of his fears and doubts,
losing them and himself in the dance of passion as old as time.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

The pleasure rose and rose, until Eli was choking, moaning,

coming undone, so close to climax that he could almost taste it.
Fortunately, Dante took pity on him. A murmur sounded in Eli’s ear,
so low it could have come from the very bowels of the world. “Come
for me, Eli. Come on my cock.”

The words acted like a switch for Eli’s brain and body. Just like

that, Eli arched his back and exploded, twitching and gasping out
Dante’s name as he found his peak. A few moments later, wet heat
flooded him, signaling Dante’s orgasm.

And then, the strangest thing happened. For a few beautiful

moments, Eli’s mind and heart were completely in synch with
Dante’s. He found himself opening his eyes, in spite of what his lover
had ordered, and he did so just in time to see Dante’s form blur and
disappear.

He would have felt shocked and bereft, except out of the blue, he

sensed a warm, familiar, yet foreign presence entering him, fully
melding with him. It was as if Dante had finally achieved his purpose
and had entered Eli deeper than anyone could possibly have. Eli
received Dante within him with glee, and the bliss that he experienced
as their souls came together as one. It wasn’t even a metaphor, but the
real thing, a true union of the very essences of their beings.

The most remarkable thing was that, even when Eli started to

come down from the high of his orgasm, that feeling of fullness, of
completion didn’t fade. Dante remained within him, a presence so
true and real that it brought tears to Eli’s eyes.

“Dante?” he thought tentatively, now wondering if the bloodkin

could hear him.

“I’m here,” his lover replied in his mind. “I have no idea what

happened.”

Eli didn’t know either, but he wasn’t about to question it. Panting,

he struggled to his feet, blindly searching for something to clean
himself up with. As he got up, though, he noticed something strange.
There was no spunk seeping out of his ass. He still felt the stretch of

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Dante’s dick inside him, but the evidence usually left behind by
satisfactory sex wasn’t there.

It confused Eli since he’d distinctively felt the wet heat invading

him, splashing against the walls of his channel. He rubbed his chest,
suddenly feeling an ache deep inside. He didn’t want to dwell on what
they didn’t have. There was too much they’d already been given,
including this privilege of making love.

It occurred to him then that there was still a great deal they didn’t

understand about Dante’s current condition. Eli had thought Dante
had more limitations, but it seemed obvious that this was not the case.
Perhaps the crux of the issue lay in Eli’s bond with Dante. What could
they achieve if they fully grasped its power and meaning?

For the moment, Eli didn’t have an answer, but he knew he had to

find it, no matter what. And he suspected the only way to do that
would be to brave a journey toward the same place he’d just fled.
Tachaka.

* * * *

Dante had always held a great deal of affection for Tachaka. As a

child, he’d learned the bloodkin ways in the imperial residence.
Wanting for Dante to also acknowledge the lives of their commoners,
Aran would sometimes lead him through the city, showing him
around, teaching him his vision of the world.

Those days were long gone now, but the memories had stayed. In

many ways, Tachaka remained the same, as beautiful and mysterious
as Dante remembered it. However, as of late, the bloodkin had grown
increasingly restless, which caused their capital to be under heavy
guard, more so than usual.

For that reason, Dante had seriously disagreed with Eli when the

elf insisted they needed to return to Tachaka to get some help for
Dante. Eli believed that Aran would help them if he saw Dante.
According to the elf, the Imperator had seemed truly grieved at

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Dante’s death. Dante believed that as the last thing he remembered
before the gloom of death was being held in his father’s arms while he
tried to reach for Eli. However, the fact remained that while Aran still
held affection for Dante, Eli would likely not be protected by it. Dante
didn’t want to risk his lover’s life. He’d have gone alone, but he
discovered that he couldn’t leave Eli’s side for too long. It seemed
like, in a strange way, he was anchored to the elf. Their connection
guaranteed that he could stay in the world of the living, but also kept
Eli bound to Dante. The selfish part of Dante was pleased, but deep
within himself, he also experienced a measure of guilt and regret at
the knowledge that he could never give the elf what he deserved.

In the end, Dante would have much preferred to go to

Manturanael to investigate his current condition since the elves were
likely to have information similar to the one in Tachaka. Eli had
refused, though, explaining that his father had banished him and
would never agree to help.

For that reason, they remained at a stalemate, trying to figure out

the answers to their questions by themselves, until something else
happened. Word reached their ears that the Imperator had become
increasingly unstable. He was leading a campaign to hunt down Cole,
Kier, Vane, and Marlais, whom he apparently blamed for Dante’s
death.

It was truly the strangest thing. The Imperator remained wise

enough so as to be discreet in his query, which was why Dante and Eli
hadn’t originally learned of it. But then, one night, while Eli had been
sleeping, they were both given a vision.

They saw a strange-looking young man, an avian from what Dante

could tell, smiling at them with kindness and regret. “Your friends are
in danger,” he said. “You must go to them.”

An image flashed through Dante’s mind, and from what Dante

could tell, also Eli’s. It was of Kier and Cole, in two dark cells, beaten
and defeated. Dante couldn’t be sure if this was something that had
already happened, or if it represented some image of the future, and

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the avian didn’t explain anything else. “Go,” he insisted instead.
“You’re the only ones who can save them.”

When the vision vanished, Dante knew he could no longer keep

his mate from Tachaka. He realized all too well that when his father
decided on something, nothing could stop him. It was only a matter of
time until the vision came true, if it hadn’t done so already. Eli didn’t
seem to be a focus, but then, Aran had plenty of targets to direct his
hatred at, more comfortable than a light elf who might have returned
to Manturanael.

“You believe this avian?” Eli asked as they packed up to go.
“I do,” Dante answered automatically. “Truth be told, I’m not

surprised. It makes sense that Father would take action.”

Eli nodded. “There was something about the avian that made me

want to trust him. I only hope he was right and we can help.”

As they headed toward Tachaka, Eli spent half the time under

glamour, narrowly dodging patrols and sometimes only escaping
notice because of Dante’s instinctual knowledge of how to handle
others of his kind. Dante hoped that once he spoke to his father, he’d
managed to temper Aran’s anger. If he didn’t, their friends would
most definitely be killed. Not only that, but Aran’s sorrow for Dante’s
loss would be seen as a weakness in the eyes of other bloodkin. Alas,
a weak Imperator was a dead one, and Dante had no doubt that
Gideon wouldn’t hesitate to assassinate Aran if he got a chance. He
wasn’t so sure about Valerian, as he’d never truly managed to
understand his middle sibling. They didn’t even share mothers, so
they weren’t close. Nevertheless, the fact remained that the only way
to avoid disaster was for the two of them to contact Aran.

As they traveled closer and closer to Tachaka, dread swelled

inside Dante. It wasn’t that he feared his father. Yes, Aran had killed
him once, but it had been an accident. Dante didn’t even blame him
for that. However, even as they approached more and more, Eli was
clearly beginning to have doubts, remembering the last time they’d
seen the Imperator, hatred and frustration pooling in his gut at the

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

memory of Dante lying on the floor of Aran’s quarters while Eli could
do nothing to help. No matter what Dante felt for his father, Eli
certainly didn’t share his emotions in that regard.

Dante had also discovered that no one but Eli could see him or

hear him. He could enter Eli’s body at will now, but unfortunately, he
couldn’t linger there, as it was too taxing on Eli’s physical form. For
that reason, Eli grew increasingly pale and thin, as if Dante’s presence
was draining him of life. Dante almost wished he’d never returned at
all. Perhaps it would have been better.

By the time they reached the bloodkin capital, Dante no longer

even knew what he wanted. To be given his life back, certainly. But
what if that wasn’t possible? What would he do then? Aran would
never allow them to leave. How would Eli be received by Dante’s
father? It was terrifying, and Dante hovered on the edge of indecision,
aching to tell Eli to go back.

He didn’t do it, though, instead showing Eli a secret way inside

and beyond the Tachakan dome, introducing the elf to everything his
father had taught him. That night, they went to rest at a Tachakan inn,
with Eli taking the guise of a bloodkin traveler. It was for that reason
that they overheard talk of new prisoners in the palace.

“It must be Kier,” Eli whispered later, as they retreated to their

rented room. “We don’t have much time left.”

Manifesting in front of his lover, Dante nodded. “It’s likely, yes.

We need to hurry.”

“Do you know a safe way into the palace? If we don’t get to your

father in time, it will be too late for them, and us.”

Dante mused over Eli’s words. He had considered a possible

strategy to reach his father and contact him all throughout the trip. In
the end, he’d figured out a solution, although it was a little risky. “My
father has always been a very faithful man,” he explained. “His
quarters would be well guarded, but there is a temple dedicated to the
Mother Earth, strictly for the use of the imperial family. There are
guards, of course, but because my father needs his privacy, their

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number is usually not as high. There’s no telling if he changed that,
too, but I’d say it’s our best bet.”

“It’s a good idea,” Eli said. “I can use an invisibility glamour to

slip past the soldiers, as long as it’s not for a long period of time.”

Dante sighed. “You’re tired. So very tired. I wish I could make

this easier on you.”

Eli beamed at him, and for a moment, the expression of pure

adoration on the elf’s face took Dante aback. “Your presence makes
everything worthwhile. Come to me. Come in me.”

Dante desperately wanted to take his lover, no, his mate. He’d

grown more and more convinced that he and Eli were soul mates.
Even if he hadn’t believed that bloodkin shared this characteristic
with their elven ancestors, it seemed so obvious now, and so very real.
He wanted to protect Eli so badly, to treasure him and keep him in a
place where nothing bad, tiring, or frustrating would ever touch him.

As much as he’d have liked to make love to Eli once again, he

decided against it. “Sleep now, baby. We have all the time in the
world to be together.”

Eli didn’t seem very happy about his words, or very convinced for

that matter. Nevertheless, he complied. It was a testament of how
truly weary he’d been that, the moment he crawled into the bed and
placed his head on the pillow, he surrendered to slumber.

Dante lay down next to him, watching him and occasionally

caressing his face. A side effect of his state was that he didn’t need to
sleep, which often came in handy. He could at least help Eli by
always keeping watch when they made camp in the wild so that the
elf didn’t have to lose precious hours of rest for that task. For his part,
he liked admiring Eli, wondering how he’d been so lucky to find the
elf and so unlucky in that he couldn’t truly enjoy life at Eli’s side.

Questions swirled through his mind, countless doubts badgering at

his brain. He’d never feared the sunlight, as his blue blood provided
him with strength beyond that of normal bloodkin. Now, however, he
was terrified of the next day, jumping at each noise coming from

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

outside their room, wondering if someone would figure out who they
really were. After all, more often than not it was strange for a
bloodkin to spend the night inside. They were beings of darkness, and
in spite of the dome, that metabolism had been preserved.

Fortunately, the innkeepers seemed to have believed Eli’s excuse

of being tired after his trip. No one bothered them, and the hours flew
with no incident. When Eli opened his eyes, he looked a little more
rested. Dante wished he could offer his mate a nourishing meal, but
that would truly draw attention, something they couldn’t afford.

“We should go,” Eli said, already in motion as he stole a look

outside. “How long did I sleep?”

“All night,” Dante replied. At Eli’s shocked look, Dante realized

the elf wasn’t used to the way days looked in Tachaka. “Yes, it’s
morning. But you needed the rest.”

Eli glowered at him. “We agreed last night that we didn’t have

much time at our disposal.”

“Well, if you must know, baby, it’s best for us to enter the palace

at this hour anyway,” Dante explained. “The guards will be weaker
and less vigilant. They’re more likely to miss our approach.”

At that, Eli no longer seemed so put out. He just nodded jerkily,

fixed his clothes, and grabbed the bags. “Lead the way,” he said.

They left the building after paying a disgruntled and confused

innkeeper. As they slipped through the Tachakan streets, Eli became a
stealthy shadow, again careful not to draw attention. There were also
humans in Tachaka, mostly blood donors, but they were retreating to
their homes as well, having adopted the metabolism of their masters.
Under the circumstances, when Dante spotted a familiar silhouette
through the corner of his eye, it was easy for him to identify it.

“Baby,” he whispered to Eli, “there.”
“I know,” Eli responded. “I saw.”
Eli crossed the street and slipped into the alley where they’d seen

the mysterious shadow disappear. They found Vane and Marlais
Hayden leaning against a brick wall, looking anxious. Well, Marlais

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seemed fearful. Vane just appeared to be puzzled, although Dante
knew all too well that one could never trust the expressions of a
bloodkin.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Eli Starburst,” Vane drawled. “This is a

surprise. Let me guess. You received a mysterious message from the
avians as well.”

He wasn’t looking at Dante, which probably meant the other

bloodkin couldn’t see him.

Eli nodded. “We had to come help when we learned Kier and Cole

could be in trouble.”

Marlais frowned at Eli’s slip of the tongue, obviously not

understanding why Eli had said “we,” not “I.” Vane arched a brow. “I
do wonder what my brother could have possibly done to warrant any
type of loyalty from the avians. The Bloodmoor family have a nasty
history with that species, you know.”

Dante remembered that Cole and Vane’s parents had been

murdered by avian rebels, although he’d been too young at the time to
know the details first hand. It was quite a notorious event because it
had a connection with the destruction of the first Tachakan dome,
which had led to Cole being exiled for fifty years. Dante’s father had
kept the general public from learning the more compromising
information, such as Kier’s involvement, but he had told Dante.

“Well, whatever happened, we can’t stay here to figure it out,” Eli

said. “Could you and Moss create a distraction for us?”

“Yes, we can,” Vane answered, “but first, you’re going to explain

what exactly is this whole ‘us’ business.”

Eli threw a gaze Dante’s way. They were probably never going to

believe Dante was alive, in a way. Then again, Aran wouldn’t believe
it either if they didn’t have a convincing way to present their case.

With that thought in mind, Dante allowed himself to slip into Eli’s

body. The elf welcomed him, sharing everything he was with Dante.
Normally, Eli remained in control, but obviously guessing Dante’s

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

thoughts, he now allowed Dante to control the physical form they
were both inhabiting.

For that reason, when he spoke, it was Dante’s voice that came

out. “I couldn’t leave Eli,” he told Marlais and Vane. “I’ve been with
him all this time.”

The color drained out of Marlais’s face, and not even Vane could

hide his shock. “Dante?” the other bloodkin breathed out. “Is it really
you? How is this possible?”

“There’s no time to explain. Kier and Cole are in danger, and Eli

cannot sustain two souls for an extended period of time. We’ll tell you
what we can on the way to the palace.”

Vane and Marlais didn’t argue with him. “You’re right, of course.

Come on. We’ll find a way to get you inside. You’re the only one
who can reason with the Imperator now.”

As they left the alley, Dante briefly abandoned Eli’s body to give

his mate some time to rest before they had to face Aran.

The trip to the palace was brief and uneventful. He and Vane had

no trouble in avoiding the Tachakan patrols. However, once they
reached the gates of the imperial residence, their task grew a lot
harder.

“Here’s where our distraction comes in, I guess,” Vane said. “Any

thoughts?”

“Actually, yes,” Marlais offered. “I acted as bait once. I can do so

again.”

“No offense to you, Marlais,” Eli pointed out, “but that didn’t

work out so well.”

“That wasn’t Moss’s fault,” Vane shot back, his eyes glittering

with possessiveness and protective anger. “You can’t possibly blame
him for what happened.”

Eli grimaced. “I don’t. It’s just a sensitive subject. Go ahead,

Marlais. Tell us your idea.”

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“Well, it’s nothing elaborate.” The human shrugged, looking

uncomfortable. “I thought I could cut my hand with something and
lure them with my blood.”

“You know, I think I agree with Eli,” Vane suddenly said. “Last

time didn’t work out so well. We should come up with a different
plan.”

Dante disagreed. He knew what urged Vane to say that, but it was

actually a great idea. Simple, yes, but most good plans often were.

Marlais glowered at his lover, obviously not appreciating the

dismissal. Fortunately, Eli intervened. “We can pull it off. Vane will
stay with you to keep you safe and make sure you escape unharmed.
It should work.”

“Can you and Dante handle it from here?” Marlais asked,

concerned.

It was, in effect, inspirational to see the human include Dante in

their group so naturally. Dante could see why Vane had fallen so
deeply for Marlais Hayden. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “I know the
palace extremely well. I’ll get us to where we need to go.”

Eli repeated the words since their companions probably couldn’t

hear them. Vane didn’t look happy about the situation, but then,
Marlais said, “It’s all right. I trust you to take care of me.”

Just like that, Vane’s resistance melted. It was almost ridiculous,

and Dante might have actually burst into laughter if not for the
seriousness of the circumstances and his awareness that he was
probably just as sappy in his relationship with Eli.

In the end, the plan went through without a hitch. Vane made a

small cut against Marlais’s throat, leaving a few drops of blood to
flow. Once they were ready, Marlais staggered toward the gates,
pretending to be a human who someone had fed from. Dante had to
admit that he smelled very appealing. Even in this form, Dante could
scent the intoxicating aroma of Marlais’s blood. Once upon a time, it
would have been nearly impossible to resist, but now, he had Eli, so
he didn’t even blink.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

The guards at the gate were, however, very distracted. The hour

had them frustrated and cranky, and smelling the blood of a human
they were technically speaking not allowed to touch—since feeding
from an already weak donor could kill him—put them on the edge. At
first, they just looked at each other, and then, they stepped toward
Marlais, looking very eager to approach the human indeed.

They weren’t exactly abandoning their posts, but their behavior

did give Eli and Dante the opening they needed to slip past the gates.
Trusting their companions to handle the guards on their own, Dante
and his mate entered the palace grounds.

The next hurdle they had to pass was the dogs. Dante cursed to

himself as he realized he’d completely forgotten about them. He
actually liked the beasts, and they liked him in return. But now, he
didn’t have a body they could scent and wag their tails around. The
only one they saw was Eli, and Eli remained a stranger.

Or so Dante thought, at least until the dogs looked from Eli to

Dante’s position, sniffing the air curiously. Once again, Dante entered
Eli’s body, this time allowing Eli to take over. And then, Eli started to
sing. Dante had never realized it, but his mate had a lovely voice. The
beauty of it didn’t delay in having an effect. The animals began to yip
happily, leaping around Eli’s legs like young pups. Dante wasn’t sure
if the dogs sensed him, as this was the same reaction he had elicited
from the dogs. Either way, he and Eli were allowed to pass without
any problems, although the animals would have probably liked to tag
along.

Navigating through the palace felt like waking up from a dream,

or falling into one. It was all so familiar, every wall, every item of
decoration. And yet, his perspective was one of an outsider now, of a
man bursting in without being invited. He had betrayed this place, just
like he had betrayed his family and his people. Did he regret it? Yes.
Would he have done things differently under the same circumstances?
Doubtful.

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But perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps he could make amends, fix

this somehow. “Your father is the one who’s at fault,” Eli said in his
mind, “not you. Always remember that.”

“I tried to kill him,” Dante replied.
“You wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t gone insane and tried to

break the Covenant.”

Eli had a point, but Dante still wasn’t comfortable with it. They

didn’t get to debate it further, as Dante directed Eli to the path toward
his father’s private temple. Keeping a strong glamour on, they
managed to pass the soldiers guarding the area, until at last, they
reached their destination.

As Eli advanced, an increasing feeling of doom filled Dante. He

felt as if he was on the edge of something momentous, like an abyss
loomed in front of him and he couldn’t quite see it. Was it his emotion
or Eli’s? He couldn’t tell, but he did know there was no going back
now. He just had to have faith that they were doing the right thing.

As it turned out, Dante got the answer to that question easily

enough. The silence of the temple was disturbed by the sound of
raised voices, shouts, and screams that should have had no place in
Mother Earth’s home.

They followed the noise and reached a room that was guarded by

half a dozen bloodkin soldiers. It was unfortunate, and they were not
so easy to bypass. However, Dante believed that his father must be
beyond that door. The only thing they had to do was to incapacitate
these men, even temporarily.

As always in complete agreement with Dante, Eli murmured an

incantation under his breath. The dogs came barreling from the
direction of the gardens. The guards released gasps of confusion and
distress, knowing clear instructions had been given not to harm the
animals.

Obviously satisfied, Eli allowed Dante to take over his body. Now

fully in control of this physical form, Dante slipped past the guards
and burst into the room.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

What he saw both shocked him and made him even more

determined to fix this. His father had brought Cole and Kier into the
temple. He had Kier on his knees in front of Cole and was just about
to murder the elf. The same dagger that had ended Dante’s life now
threatened to kill Kier.

At the same time, Dante noticed that in the center of the room

there was a crystal casket, lying on a marble platform decorated with
sculpted vines. Instinctively, Dante knew who was inside. His father
had not burned his body after all.

That was a good sign, and it filled Dante with hope and

confidence. Fortunately, the guards holding Cole and Kier down were
too surprised by Dante’s entrance to immediately subdue him, and he
had time to cry out, “Stop! Father, stop!”

He used his own voice, the one Aran knew so well, and it worked.

The Imperator turned toward him, losing interest in Kier. He looked
pale, not speaking, just staring at Dante—well, at Eli—as if he’d
never seen an elf before.

Taking advantage of the provided opportunity, Dante insisted,

“Father. Sire, please. You must stop. They are not to blame for my
mistakes.”

At that, Aran finally snapped out of his trance. “This is a trick,” he

said, hanging onto the knife as if it were an anchor. “My son is dead.
Modulations of voice won’t fool me.”

“I don’t expect them to,” Dante answered, “but it really is me,

Father. And I can prove it.”

And prove it he did. That day, Kier and Cole were released, but

Dante and Eli remained in the Tachakan palace. Eli wasn’t happy, but
both of them knew that this was the only way Dante could be rescued.
And while his father proved to be very welcoming, Dante knew that
they had a long road ahead of them if he ever wanted to return to
normal.

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Chapter Three

A few months later

Eli leaned against the banister of the balcony, gazing out toward

the city. It was dark, but then, it was always dark here. The bloodkin
had built a thick dome around their capital city, filtering the light of
the sun and keeping it from harming Tachakan citizens. It did come
through, but it was nothing like the rays he was used to, the ones he’d
reveled in while back in his homeland.

But Manturanael was lost to him now, and for good or ill, he had

to get used to the thought of living in Tachaka. It might not be so bad.
Yes, he could no longer return to the elven lands he loved so much,
but he had something more valuable for him, so very precious.

“You miss it, don’t you?” a familiar voice said by his side.
Eli turned toward Dante, already accustomed to the wistfulness in

Dante’s voice. He would have said “no” if he’d thought it would keep
Dante from feeling any guilt over Eli’s loss. But they knew each other
too well, and denying the truth of his emotions would just be an insult
to their close bond.

“Of course I do,” he answered. “But I don’t regret being here. I

never have.”

Dante released a heavy sigh and looked away. “What if I told you

I regretted it?” he asked. “This isn’t your home, Eli. You deserve
better.”

Unfortunately, Eli missing Manturanael wasn’t truly the problem.

The gist of the issue lay in the fact that every day, Dante became more
and more aware of the limitations of their bond. Furthermore, since

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

their arrival in Tachaka, Eli had many times found himself hosting
Dante’s soul inside him. Truth be told, he rejoiced in it, but the
experience was very taxing on him as one body wasn’t meant to hold
two separate people.

Still, just like he’d told Dante, Eli felt like he belonged at Dante’s

side. He couldn’t say he had no regrets. It was hard to do so when the
man he loved so deeply was dead, and, in many ways, beyond his
reach. But he had to hold onto his belief that Dante’s father would
come up with a way to bring Dante back.

Ever since their arrival to Tachaka, Aran Bloodclaw had started to

investigate the possibility of bringing Dante back to life. Dante’s body
remained well preserved in a crystal casket, something which allowed
Eli to hope. However, as time passed and their efforts continued to
fail, Dante was beginning to give up, largely because he believed Eli
was wasting away at his side, in an increasingly dangerous Tachaka.

But Eli would not let anyone push him away from Dante, not even

Dante himself. “Have a little faith,” he told Dante. “Your father is
bound to find a solution. You’ll see.”

Dante gave him a skeptical look. He obviously intended to protest,

but Eli didn’t want to hear it. He simply couldn’t fathom ever being
separated from the bloodkin. Those hours he’d spent thinking Dante
was dead had been more torturous than anything he could have ever
imagined. He now understood Kier better than he’d thought he would,
which was why he felt relieved that, at the very least, he and Dante
had managed to grant their friends the possibility of happiness. But at
the same time, he wanted what Kier, Cole, Marlais, and Vane had. It
could and it would happen. They just had to be a little patient.

In the meantime, Eli decided to distract Dante the only way he

knew how. He leaned closer to the bloodkin, invading Dante’s
personal space. It should have been strange to share such passion with
someone who was, essentially, a ghost, but their desire went beyond
the limitations of flesh.

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Slowly, ever so slowly, he brushed his lips against Dante’s. Dante

didn’t even hesitate. He kissed back, thrusting his tongue into Eli’s
mouth. Eli moaned and his eyes drifted shut as he wrapped his arms
around Dante.

He tangled his hands through Dante’s long hair, loving the silky

feel of the strands. Dante growled, their kiss growing more
aggressive, more wanton. All of a sudden, Eli found himself pinned
against the solid surface of the wall, Dante’s strength and domination
leaving him breathless and needy. He was as hard as a rock. The only
thing he wanted more than Dante’s dick in his mouth was the same
delicious member up his ass, stretching him, filling him, burning him
from the inside out.

They stumbled together into Eli’s quarters, or rather, the room

they shared. Eli didn’t even bother to open his eyes, relying on Dante
to guide them. The bloodkin didn’t fail him, directing Eli toward the
bed. As his knees hit the side of the four-poster, Eli fell back and fell
onto the mattress with a thud. Instants later, Dante’s weight landed on
top of him, so beautiful and real that it almost made Eli weep.

As far as Eli could tell, he was the only one who could touch

Dante like this. Aran had tried to reach out to his son, but more often
than not, he couldn’t even see Dante. With much effort from their
part, the Imperator had managed to glimpse a shadow of Dante a
couple of times, but they could only communicate if Dante inhabited
Eli’s body.

If he wanted to be honest, Eli had never understood how it could

be possible for him and Dante to make love in spite of the
circumstances. Perhaps he was imagining the whole thing. Maybe it
was all an elaborate, beautiful dream. Somehow, he doubted it. Dante
never drank his blood, and Eli knew both of them felt the absence of
the connection such an exchange could bring.

They were all trying to figure out what it meant and how they

could use it, but for the moment, they had no answers, and Eli didn’t
want to focus on problems with no solution. He just wanted to lose

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

himself in Dante’s embrace and forget, forget that he and Dante were
still separated, still unable to fully reach each other.

Alas, it was not meant to be. A knock sounded at the door, and

Dante pulled away with a sigh. Eli looked at his lover, his heart
clenching with emotions he didn’t dare identify. Dante looked
disgruntled, but so very alive that for a few instants, Eli couldn’t wrap
his mind around the truth he knew so well.

“It’s Father,” Dante said. “I should get it.”
Eli nodded. Now that Dante had mentioned it, he could also sense

Aran. The Imperator’s powers allowed him to cloak himself when he
wanted to, but he tended to give Dante and Eli privacy.

Personally, Eli had never forgiven the Imperator for what he’d

done. He didn’t think he ever would, not fully. Perhaps he might
change his mind, if they managed to bring Dante back. And of course,
he certainly appreciated Aran’s assistance, but he couldn’t just let go
of his burning resentment. No matter what the circumstances had
been, he could not get over the fact that Aran had wielded the blade
that had killed Dante.

But his near hatred toward the Imperator didn’t matter as much as

their shared goal. Aran wouldn’t have come here without having
something important to tell them. With a sigh, Eli resigned himself
that he’d have to wait a little while until he could get Dante alone. If
Aran brought news on their ongoing project to get Dante back, Eli’s
libido was a secondary priority. He didn’t want to dwell on that
thought too much, though. It could very well be something different.

Even if his lover had said he should get the door, it was obviously

Eli’s task. Dante’s effect on the world of the living varied. Sometimes
he could interact with objects, while other times he seemed incapable
of doing so. He had more luck with items that held some sort of
meaning for him or that Eli had touched before. He’d probably be
able to use the door knob, but it would be confusing and painful for
Aran to have to face his ghostly son like that.

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As such, Eli left the bed and went to let the Imperator in. When he

opened the door, he saw Aran standing patiently at the other side. A
glint of excitement shone in the black eyes that were so familiar to
Eli. “Is Dante here? I think we might have reached a breakthrough.”

The lingering traces of Eli’s arousal melted into a burst of

desperate hope. Struggling to keep his voice level, he asked, “What’s
happened?”

As he spoke, Dante made his way to Eli’s side. The tension in his

mate was such that it allowed Aran to see him. “Dante,” he breathed
out. “Oh, my son…”

“Be at peace, Father,” Dante said softly. “I’m here. What is it?”
Eli wasn’t sure if Aran heard the words, so he repeated them.

“The priests claim they might have figured out a way to put your soul
where it belongs,” Aran answered, immediately recovering. “We must
head to the temples at once.”

Dante didn’t look convinced, but nevertheless nodded. Aran threw

a glance Eli’s way, and for the first time, Eli realized that during his
brief make-out session with Dante, his clothing had suffered the
evidence of Dante’s passion. He was all mussed, several buttons
missing from his shirt and the bindings of his pants coming undone.

Eli had no clue when Dante had had the time to do all that, but it

didn’t matter. He quickly retreated in the bedroom and changed his
shirt. His presence in the bloodkin palace was strange enough already.
He didn’t want to birth more rumors by appearing in public as if he’d
just been ravaged by a lover.

When he returned, he found Aran speaking to Dante, standing

close to Eli’s lover, as if desperate to touch him. The Imperator would
be unable to do so, Eli knew, and it must be very strange for Aran to
see the obvious proof that, to a certain extent, Eli and Dante had
physical contact.

Nevertheless, when Aran turned toward Eli, he didn’t seem

resentful in the slightest. Instead, he was smiling. “Come. This might
be the solution we’ve all been waiting for.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Together, the three of them left Eli and Dante’s quarters. As they

walked through the winding corridors of the palace, Eli was
hyperaware of all the eyes on him, following his every motion. In the
private wing of the imperial residence, Eli had been offered full
freedom of motion, but he was still being watched. Dante’s older
brothers, Gideon and Valerian, were likely keeping an eye on him,
although Eli had only glimpsed them from afar until now. It unsettled
Eli that they hadn’t even deigned to see him once, if only to verify his
claim that Dante’s soul occasionally inhabited him.

Fortunately, Aran and the priests did believe him. As they reached

the temple of Mother Earth, Eli wondered if at last, that belief would
lead to a result that would benefit them all. He wanted Dante back
with him, hale and whole.

Inside, the shrine was quiet, cool, and dark. This was the

Imperator’s private space of worship, and as such, there were
numerous guards making sure everything remained as the Imperator
pleased. According to Dante, their number had increased, but Eli
wasn’t surprised at this fact, since, after all, the temple held Dante’s
body.

Indeed, as they stepped into one of the rooms, Eli saw the now

familiar crystal casket and inside, Dante’s flesh form. In such
moments, it was truly disconcerting to have his lover by his side. In
the casket, Dante almost looked like he was sleeping, so Eli always
shied away from calling the body a corpse. Perhaps a part of him truly
refused to process what had happened.

Shaking himself, Eli glanced away from the disturbing sight and

at the three priests present in the room. They were working on
drawing a large circle on the floor, connecting the slab where the
crystal casket lay and another identical one. Eli had gone through the
process before, as from the very beginning, the priests had decreed
that the only way to send Dante’s soul back into his body was while
Eli acted as a vessel for him. So far, their attempts had failed,
although Eli wasn’t exactly sure why.

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“Well?” Aran asked as soon as he walked in. “Here we are. What

have you discovered?”

The head priest bowed lowly. “Your Majesty, as we explained, we

believe that the transference process doesn’t work because we lack
the necessary strength.”

“Yes, so you said.” Aran sounded displeased and impatient. “It

seems that no matter how many priests serve me, even united, their
abilities are lacking.”

The cleric winced, obviously realizing that he should dwell less on

his own failure and more on the possibility of success. “Yes,
well…We’ve figured out that we might have been taking the wrong
approach. You have said before that His Highness seems most real
when he is touching his mate…privately. We thought that—”

“Wait,” Dante intervened, interrupting the man. “You want me to

have sex with Eli here, in front of you?”

Dante seemed so distressed that the Imperator heard him. “I know

this is difficult for you, son,” Aran said. “I understand your
relationship with Eli is private and you don’t want anyone witnessing
what you two share.”

“No, Father, I don’t think you understand. You—”
Eli stepped between Dante and Aran, drawing Dante’s attention to

himself and stopping his lover from saying anything else. “It’s all
right,” he said. “If they think it can help, I don’t mind.”

“You’re mine.” Dante’s voice was a low growl. “No one deserves

the privilege of seeing your passion. Only me.”

“But isn’t it worth that small sacrifice if it means we might be able

to be together in every way?” Eli stepped closer to Dante, brushing
his lips over those of his lover. “Besides,” he murmured, “it might
even be interesting. They’d be watching us, wanting me, lusting for
me, all the while knowing that I belong to you and they’ll never get to
touch.”

Dante was beginning to be convinced. “Would it excite you?” he

purred in Eli’s ear.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

It was dangerous, but always so very satisfying to play these

games with Dante. “You always do,” Eli answered.

“All right,” Dante said, finally relenting. “It will be as you wish

it.”

Now that Eli had gotten what he’d wanted, he really didn’t know

what to expect. They’d never made love with anyone else present, and
he honestly had no clue how it would affect him.

But Dante had made a promise, and he seemed intent on keeping

it. He guided Eli toward the slab, and the priests moved away to let
them pass. Eli sat down on the cold altar, keeping his gaze solely on
Dante. He knew the rest of the bloodkin were watching them,
watching the interaction between him and Dante. To a certain extent,
it did arouse him. In the end, though, he found that it was a secondary
feeling. As always, his focus remained on Dante, on the man who
never failed to turn his body into pure flame.

Dante joined him on the platform, and unlike other times, Eli

allowed himself to fully take in his lover’s form. More often than not,
when they made love, Eli kept his eyes closed, at least at the
beginning. A small part of him feared that if he saw Dante
translucent, he wouldn’t be able to feel him like this, so deeply, so
powerfully, and so very real. But of course, his fears were unfounded,
as he always learned. When they touched, Dante seemed more solid,
less of a ghost and more like a flesh-and-blood person.

It was supremely strange since Dante’s actual body was on the

other slab, but Eli didn’t allow himself to think too much about that.
Fortunately, Dante was of the same mind, and as he climbed on top of
Eli, Eli’s world became reduced to the heat of his lover’s form above
him, the desire emanating off Dante’s skin.

And then, Dante crushed their mouths together, freeing the sexual

tension that had been building up ever since their make-out session in
their quarters. Well, truth be told, the same want always existed
between them. It was like a hunger that they never fully sated. When
they made love, it stopped torturing them so much, but it always kept

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building up, again and again. Eli didn’t regret it. For him, every
moment he spent with Dante was precious. This kiss, this moment, he
valued them as much as he did his very breath.

Knowing all that, knowing him, Dante swept his tongue into Eli’s

mouth. He tasted Eli and claimed him in that unique way only Dante
could ever manage. Somehow, he managed to be both aggressive and
gentle, reaching out to both Eli’s sexuality and his heart. He explored
every inch of Eli’s wet cavern, and through the kiss, he seemed to
breathe in Eli’s soul and identity.

Just like before, Dante pinned Eli’s wrists above his head. This

time, however, there was no interruption. Oh, the other bloodkin were
there. Eli could feel them, hear them whispering and moving. To their
credit, they were trying to be discreet, but in all likelihood, they saw
this new development as remarkable. Perhaps they hadn’t expected
Eli and Dante to be able to touch quite like this, but Eli had a feeling
it was more than that. In spite of the fact that they were priests and
their purpose here a serious one, they couldn’t help being aroused. For
Eli’s part, he took it all in stride. He was flattered by the attention, but
Dante was the one who truly mattered for him.

As they kissed, even the need to breath became irrelevant when

faced with the burning fire of their lust. Eli ground his erection
against Dante, moaning into the lip-lock, begging for more. Dante
switched his grip on Eli’s arms, holding him immobilized with a
single hand. He used the other one to work on Eli’s shirt, tearing it
open with a haste that bordered on savagery.

Buttons flew and seams ripped as the material yielded to Dante’s

urgency. When Dante’s fingers trailed over Eli’s skin, exploring his
chest, it both frustrated and excited Eli beyond measure. It was simply
not enough to satisfy him, and the teasing caress made him even more
aware of how much he craved a total union with Dante. His dick
throbbed in his pants, and his anus clenched, demanding to be filled.

He and Dante hadn’t managed to have sex before being separated

by the event Eli didn’t even want to think about. But that hadn’t

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

stopped the two of them from exploring all the available avenues of
pleasure once Dante had returned. In fact, every time they made love,
it seemed Dante became more and more solid, something which was
actually the basis of the experiment they were about to have. Dante’s
bloodkin powers were all but gone, and he couldn’t use magic like he
once had, but that was truly a small price to pay.

That particular dimension of their coming together was set aside.

As Dante opened Eli’s pants, Eli lost interest in anything that didn’t
imply him being fucked in about ten seconds. Dante’s strikingly hot
fist engulfed his erection, and Eli moaned as the bloodkin skillfully
worked him, rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip, occasionally
going lower down to massage Eli’s balls. The pleasure had Eli already
writhing on the marble platform. Dante’s hold on his wrists tightened
for a few moments, reminding him to stay still. Eli both loved and
hated the restriction. He loved it because having Dante assert his
dominance over him provided a whole new layer of ecstasy he had
never experienced with another lover. However, it also meant that he
couldn’t touch Dante in turn. Everything happened as Dante dictated
it, and it was sweet sensual torture, to have to wait for Dante to decide
to allow Eli the caresses he craved so much.

When Dante released Eli’s hands, Eli instinctively knew that he

hadn’t been given permission to move. He struggled to remain still,
not wanting to disappoint his lover, his mate, his master. Dante repaid
him by starting to pull the rest of Eli’s clothes off. The bloodkin
discarded Eli’s boots first. No sooner had they hit the floor with a dull
thud than Dante went on to get rid of the even more frustrating pants.
Eli wiggled around a little, aiming to help his mate, but Dante had it
covered, and soon, Eli was naked on the marble platform, exposed to
Dante’s gaze like some sort of pagan sacrifice.

In spite of their ruthless nature, bloodkin didn’t perform killing

rituals for religious purposes. Some of them no longer practiced
religion at all, but those who did believed in Mother Earth, who was
by Her nature a benevolent deity. Nevertheless, even if bloodkin had

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been inclined toward sacrifices, Eli still wouldn’t have been afraid. In
Dante’s embrace, he always felt so very safe, like nothing could ever
hurt him.

The stone was cool under him, and he shivered slightly, half

because of the temperature and half due to his own awareness of the
sexual tension in the room. Most of it came from Dante, his bloodkin
prince’s gaze sweeping over Eli like a palpable caress. But Eli also
remained aware of the other people present. He didn’t particularly
mind them seeing him naked, but he was possessive of Dante.
Doubtlessly, they could all see Eli’s mate now.

But who cared about that? Let them watch. Let them lust. Dante

belonged to Eli, just like Eli belonged to Dante. Still holding his
hands immobile, Eli smiled up at his bloodkin and mouthed, “Please.”

“You should know better by now than to think that you can dictate

my actions.” Dante passed a claw over Eli’s cheek, and Eli trembled
under the dangerous touch. His mate didn’t draw blood, but Eli
wished he had. He wanted for Dante to feed off him. Since their
meeting, back when Dante had still been alive, the bloodkin never had
tasted Eli’s essence. No matter how many times they made love, that
limitation had never truly disappeared.

Even so, just having Dante there, above him, had Eli so aroused

he could barely think. In spite of his words, Dante did follow Eli’s
silent plea and disrobed. He was, as always, superbly efficient, the
material simply melting off him. Sometimes, Dante actually took the
time to strip in a normal way, to preserve the illusion that protected
them from undeniable facts, but he didn’t do so know. Perhaps the
priests had given him hope as well. Perhaps the urgency was simply
too much for him. Either way, in mere moments, Eli had his naked
mate above him.

Dante’s hands traveled over the entire expanse of Eli’s body,

exploring every inch of him. Eli felt that he was slowly being
consumed by the flame of the bloodkin’s passion, and he couldn’t
take it anymore. Today, neither of them was in the mood for much

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

foreplay. They were too raw, too high and excited at the possibility of
finally being able to come together in every way. Eli desperately
needed to be fucked, to have Dante inside him, and nothing else
would even do. But his mate was nothing if not stubborn, and he
loved drawing out this torture, driving Eli wild before he finally took
him.

Perhaps it was for that reason that Eli decided to disobey Dante

for the first time. No, it wasn’t actually a conscious decision. The
tongues of flame licking over his skin simply wouldn’t let him think,
wouldn’t allow him to cling to his control. He hated the thought of
disappointing his mate, of going against something Dante wanted, but
he simply couldn’t help it. And yes, he wanted to touch Dante, and he
wanted to test his mate, to see what Dante would do.

He was not disappointed. For a few moments, Eli managed to

touch Dante’s chest, but then, Dante caught his hands and growled his
displeasure. “It looks like you want to be punished, don’t you, Eli?”

Eli didn’t reply. He didn’t think he could have. The heat of

Dante’s eyes melted his brain cells. And then, Dante flipped him over
on the marble platform, gesturing for him to sit on all fours. Eli
complied, pushing his ass out and exposing himself to Dante’s gaze.

Dante released another of his trademark growls. “What a greedy

little slut you are. So eager for my cock. Well, you’re not getting it.”
His hand landed painfully on Eli’s ass cheek with a loud, fleshy
sound. Eli hissed, his cock throbbing as his brain translated the pain
into pleasure.

“You need to be punished,” Dante continued, undeterred. “Now,

eyes front.”

Eli obeyed and found himself facing the bloodkin priests. Since

he’d been on his back on the platform and fully focused on Dante, he
hadn’t seen them or their expressions until now. One of them stood
rigid, like a statue, his gaze fixed on Eli’s face. The other was staring
avidly at Dante in rapt awe, while the third one didn’t even try to

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pretend he wasn’t aroused. He was leaning on a column and touching
himself under his robe.

It was natural for a cleric of Mother Earth to have a high libido, so

there was truly nothing inappropriate in them expressing sexual
desire. Still, Eli had never experienced this situation in Manturanael.
Elves weren’t so keen on exhibitionism, and as far as Eli could tell,
bloodkin were quite possessive as well. But Dante seemed intent on
making use of the circumstances for a little experiment.

“Look at them,” Dante purred in Eli’s ear. “See how they’re

watching you? They’re imagining themselves in my position,
imagining putting their cocks in your beautiful mouth, in your ass. Do
you want that, baby? Do you want their cocks?”

“N–no,” Eli stammered. “Only you, Dante. Only you.”
“You don’t sound very convinced.” Another smack. “Perhaps we

should ask them to come forward and fuck your face. Or maybe you
want them here.” His fingers trailed over Eli’s crease and against his
fluttering opening. As much as he’d have liked to remain calm, Eli
couldn’t help a moan at the touch. Dante chuckled darkly. “I see the
thought appeals to you.”

What appealed to Eli was having Dante there, fucking him hard.

He wanted to say that, to scream it, in front of the priests, in front of
the entire world. But he couldn’t speak, and when Dante delivered
four more hard slaps, two on each ass cheek, the only sounds he could
make were moans and whimpers. By now, he was entering that head
space where his bones became liquid, his brain shrouded by a mist of
desire. He could barely even see anymore. The only thing he could
focus on the heat of Dante’s touch against his ass and back.

And Dante wasn’t done with him, not by far. With no warning, he

thrust two fingers inside Eli’s channel. They weren’t lubricated in any
way, not even with spit, and Eli loved it. He loved the burn, the
roughness of it, the bite of pain that blurred into ecstasy. As always,
Dante knew exactly what Eli needed and delivered it, even if this was,
supposedly, Eli’s punishment.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Dante finger-fucked him roughly, occasionally brushing against

his prostate, but more often than not, deliberately missing. Eli realized
it was on purpose because Dante never made mistakes, not in this.
The bloodkin knew Eli’s body better than Eli himself, and it seemed
that he did plan to teach Eli a little lesson on who was truly in charge.
He massaged the walls of Eli’s channel for what seemed like forever,
providing teasing caresses that never quite materialized into what Eli
wanted. Then, he started ruthlessly rubbing Eli’s special spot, causing
him to push back against those invading digits just so that he could
have more. Then, he removed his fingers from Eli’s ass and nudged
Eli’s opening with the head of his dick. Eli held his breath in
anticipation, and groaned as Dante’s cock started to slide in. Slowly,
the shaft popped past the first ring of guardian muscles, penetrating
Eli’s opening. One instant passed and Eli was just about to shove
himself against that delicious dick, and then, Dante was gone. The
bloodkin’s dick left Eli’s body and didn’t return, leaving Eli feeling
empty and confused.

Two more slaps followed, and then a nearly painful squeeze of

Eli’s dick. Then, over and over, a repeat of the sexual torture, giving
Eli what he craved so badly then snatching it away at the last moment.
It was beyond Eli’s power of comprehension how Dante could have
such self-control. For Eli’s part, he was already in tears, babbling
pleas for mercy and swearing he would never disobey again.

Just when Eli thought Dante would surely kill him, Dante

suddenly positioned his dick at Eli’s opening. Instead of the slow
glide from before, he thrust inside, so hard Eli’s teeth rattled. By now,
Eli was a little more stretched due to Dante’s games, a side effect
which Dante must have expected and likely intended. Still, Dante’s
size would have likely hurt him if not for the peculiar effect Eli had
already gotten used to. Sometimes, Eli almost wished it gone since it
was a symptom of a larger issue, but right then and there, he was
grateful for it as it allowed them to come together without worrying
the bloodkin would actually hurt him.

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They fell into a beautiful rhythm, with Dante moving in and out of

Eli, shoving his dick hard inside Eli’s channel. Eli pushed back
against Dante, seeking more of the addicting sensations, more of
Dante. He was on fire, and nothing mattered except pursuing his wild
desire for Dante. Lust pulsed through his veins, burning him from the
inside out. Distantly, Eli wondered how a member of a species so
sensitive to sunlight could cause such sensations within Eli. For his
part, Eli had always loved the sun—it was a large part of the life of a
light elf—but not even the beautiful rays he still missed could
compare to the brightness of Dante’s soul, to the scorching heat the
bloodkin emitted. Eli might have loved seeing the sun, but he loved
Dante more.

It was all so beautiful, and yet so raw and purely carnal that soon,

Eli was on the brink of climax. And Dante still wouldn’t relent,
continuing to drive in and out of him with that same near-ruthlessness
that helped him drive Eli wild with desire. It was pointless to resist
and a losing battle to attempt doing so. The pleasure kept building
until at last, Eli couldn’t take it anymore. Three more thrusts, and it
was all over. Crying out Dante’s name, Eli came, his spunk flying all
over the marble platform.

To his credit, he wasn’t the only vocal one in this relationship. As

Eli felt Dante’s dick pulsing inside him and wet heat filled him, Dante
released a groan of his own. “Eli…Oh, baby.”

And then, something changed. Usually, after making love with

Dante, Eli floated on a cloud of absolute pleasure, surrendering
himself to the ecstasy Dante had provided. At first, he thought things
would be exactly this way, but it didn’t happen. Instead, out of the
blue, Eli felt a strange force sweep through him, reaching to the very
core of his being. It shook him, as if a whirlpool had appeared in his
soul and was sapping out his energy, his emotions. Oddly enough, it
seemed like this force was reaching specifically for his feelings
toward Dante. Eli would have opened his heart to it, hoping for the
best, but the heat of Dante’s presence began to dissipate, and that

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

scared him. As his vision focused, he tried to turn toward his mate,
but he realized the strange sculpted vines on the platform had now
wrapped around his wrists and legs, keeping him bound. For good or
ill, he was stuck.

He couldn’t see the priests anymore, but he could hear them,

chanting somewhere to his left. They must have gone next to the
casket, Eli realized. Toward the end, he’d completely forgotten what
they’d come here to do, what their purpose was and what his focus
should have been on.

He might have actually felt a little guilty, but he couldn’t

concentrate on such an emotion, not when he was so confused and
frightened. Surprisingly, the Imperator appeared in front of him and
gripped his chin. “Look at me, Eli. Focus. You can do this. Just open
yourself and think about how much you want Dante to come back to
you, to us.”

Eli had the urge to say that they wouldn’t have been in this

situation in the first place if not for Aran’s foolishness and hunger for
power. But now was not the moment for such things. Eli actually
wondered where the Imperator had been while Dante had been
fucking him, but it was probably fortunate that he’d stayed out of
sight. Nevertheless, this time, he didn’t move away, keeping those
eerily familiar eyes on Eli. “Focus,” he repeated. “You’re the only
one who can help him. I know you love him. I know how much he
means to you. Bring him back.”

For some reason, Aran’s words helped. Perhaps it wasn’t even the

words themselves, but the sight of those jet-black orbs so alike to
those Eli had once fallen in love with. Eli ignored everything else
about the man in front of him and kept looking at his eyes. Aran and
Dante were very similar, so it wasn’t very hard for Eli to imagine his
lover there instead of the Imperator.

Of course, Aran was perfectly correct. Eli could do this. He

wanted to do this. It was the reason why he’d come to Tachaka, after
all. Yes, he’d aimed to help Kier and Cole, but in the end, if he’d been

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forced to choose between Kier and Dante…Eli didn’t really want to
think too much about that, but suffice to say, he now understood Kier
so much better and regretted rejecting Kier for so long because of his
love for Cole Bloodmoor.

Love. It all came down to love. Eli strongly believed in his and

Dante’s relationship. Even in their incipient form, the feelings
between them had been strong enough from keeping Dante’s soul
from vanishing into the world of the dead. Now that they had grown
so much, how could they not be able to bring Dante back?

Still holding the Imperator’s gaze, Eli pushed aside the fear and

allowed his every emotion to flow through him, to feed this strange
power. He experienced a measure of panic when his vision began to
dim, but he didn’t allow it to stop him. This was for Dante. Dante, the
man who had given Eli new insight on true love. Dante, the one
who’d made Eli understand sacrifice and loyalty, but also passion and
nearly obsessive desire. Dante, the single most important thing in
Eli’s life. No matter what happened, Eli had to bring him back, to
give Dante a full life. He had to fix this, to wipe the horrors of the
past so that Aran and Dante’s relationship could finally return to what
it had once been. As much as he resented the Imperator, Dante
actually worshipped his father, and Eli lived for Dante’s happiness.

Memories flashed through Eli’s mind, both old and new. Himself,

growing up in Manturanael, learning the ways of his people. After
that, he and Kier, experiencing the stirrings of first love. Their
youthful fumbling, their laughter, the passion they had shared. And
then, their separation and the pain Eli had felt when his father had
sent Kier away. The bitter taste of the betrayal that had nearly crushed
him when he’d learned of Kier’s relationship with Cole Bloodmoor.
He had thought he’d never love again, but he’d been so very wrong.
His true soul mate had been another one, a bloodkin with a wicked
smile and glittering black eyes. Eli remembered how much he’d
desired Dante from the very beginning and the terror that had gripped
him upon realizing the extent of that lust. He remembered their first

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

kisses, exchanged in the worst circumstances possible. He recalled
Dante feeding off him, the eroticism of the moment branded into his
body, heart, and mind for all time. And of course, he could never
shake the horror of the sight of Dante dying in Aran’s arms.

But it had not been the end. Dante had returned to him. For that

amazing strength, for the affection Dante had showered him with, Eli
wanted to give his mate everything he was and would ever be.

“I love you,” he thought, for no reason in particular. “I love you

so very much.”

He didn’t know if Dante had heard him. He certainly hoped so, as

he didn’t think he could have spoken, and he truly wanted to let Dante
know how he felt. In fact, he didn’t get to say anything else. His
world turned into darkness and exhaustion, and the last thing he could
focus on was his hope that this hadn’t been for naught.

* * * *

Dante didn’t have too much faith in his father’s priests. Oh, the

men were well intentioned enough, and they genuinely wanted to
help, but they didn’t seem to have any clue on how to solve Dante’s
problem.

As such, he had not believed this strange experiment would

amount to anything useful. He’d only gone through with it because of
Eli’s insistence. Besides, he’d been horny, and he found with great
surprise that in this form, arousal could be just as torturous and potent
as before.

The last thing Dante had expected when he’d agreed to it, though,

was to be snatched away from Eli just as he was riding the last waves
of his climax. At first, he tried to fight it, uncertain as to what was
happening, but then, he remembered the purpose of their little visit
here, and he attempted to open himself to the process.

It seemed to work, and for the first time in what seemed like

forever, Dante experienced a very real surge of hope. He felt himself

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float and was dismayed upon realized he was being pulled away from
Eli. But he had to believe it was for the best. Their separation would
only be temporary. Likely Dante was being returned to his own body
in the crystal casket, and if that was the case, their wait would soon be
over. Dante would be able to claim his mate in every way. Oh, they
would be so immensely happy together.

He watched Eli attempt to turn, and realized that oddly enough,

the sculpted vines had wrapped around the elf’s arms and legs,
keeping him from moving. He didn’t like that, and liked the fear in
Eli’s stance even less. But then, Dante’s father made his way to Eli’s
side and gripped the elf’s chin. Oddly, the elf relaxed, which in turn
eased some of Dante’s tension. Eli didn’t like Aran, resented him for
what had happened, something which Dante regretted, but had
expected. Now, though, the Imperator’s presence, or perhaps his
resemblance to Dante seemed to soothe Eli. Dante had hope that one
day, the two men he loved most in the world would come to care
about each other as well.

As he thought this, an influx of emotion prodded him closer to the

crystal casket. For a few moments, Dante lost track of Eli and Aran.
He lost track of most everything, his muscles becoming rigid, his
vision darkening. All of a sudden, he felt very cold, and what he did
see seemed filtered through a strange, blurry veil.

His reason translated these new sensations with ease and reached

the natural conclusion. He was in his own body, the one his father had
preserved so religiously, in spite of not knowing that Dante’s spirit
had survived his death. He’d have been ecstatic, but before his soul
could get accustomed to his new condition, something else pulled at
him. It was Eli. Eli was in danger.

No matter how much Dante had wanted to return to his normal

life, Eli was more important. Pushing away the strange power that had
helped him so much, Dante hastened to his mate’s side. Aran stood by
Eli’s platform, looking like he didn’t know what to do. In the

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

meantime, Eli was pale, barely breathing at all and seemingly sapped
of all strength.

“What’s happening?” Dante shouted as soon as he reached Eli,

pulling at the stone vines.

He almost feared that they wouldn’t hear him since his effect on

the world of the living varied. However, they did. The priests rushed
forward, possibly intending to help. They didn’t have to intervene,
though, as the strange bindings retreated back into the platform at
Dante’s touch.

Dante couldn’t possibly figure out what had caused them to

appear, but he didn’t have the time to focus on that right now. Instead,
he directed the entirety of his attention on Eli. He caught Eli before
the elf could collapse painfully on the slab and turned him over. His
father snapped out of his trance and took off his cloak, covering Eli
with it and providing some heat and modesty.

“What are you doing?” he asked the clerics. “He needs medical

assistance.”

While the priests joined them next to the platform, Dante checked

Eli’s vital signs. It was truly very hard to say what had gone wrong.
The only thing Dante could tell was that Eli seemed to be suffering of
extreme exhaustion. Dante had witnessed similar symptoms before. It
usually happened when Eli tried to sustain both their souls for too
long. Obviously, something similar had occurred now, but to an even
more worrisome extent. And Dante could do next to nothing to help
his mate. He realized then that his return to his physical form had
gained him something, a solidity that he hadn’t had before. But how
would that help him if his mate got hurt in the process?

“If you’d please give us room to work, Your Highness,” one priest

said, “we will examine your mate.”

Dante obeyed silently. Priests were by their nature skilled in

medical work. The high priest in particular was required to have
knowledge in several fields. Some bloodkin might not hold onto their
original faith, and most of the ways of the Mother Earth had been lost,

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but the priests remained a strong force, especially in times of turmoil
and transition. They had their own specialized army, the Inquisitors,
bloodkin no one could deceive and who mostly intervened when the
country was shaken by assassinations or other such attacks.

Fortunately, in spite of the fact that the priests were specialized in

bloodkin physiology, elves were similar enough for the clerics to have
a full grasp of what they were dealing with. Knowing that they were
eminently capable of handling the problem helped Dante very little,
however. He paced through the room, mentally praying to Mother
Earth and cursing himself for having gone along with this insane plan
in the first place.

Dante watched as the men took Eli’s pulse and whispered

incantations. One of them brought a sort of strange oil and rubbed
Eli’s chest and extremities with it. They worked in silence, and Dante
did his best not to get in their way.

Finally, the high priest turned toward him and spoke. “His

condition is stable,” he said solemnly, “but he is very weak. We need
to get him to a more comfortable place, so that we can provide him
with the best of medical care.”

Dante felt like he was back in that moment when his father had

struck him with the dagger. No, it had hurt less. “But he will recover,
right?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“It is likely,” the priest answered. “Please, Highness, trust us. We

will take care of him.”

Anger flared through Dante. “I can hardly trust you enough to

touch him at all. You had us go through this ritual and now—”

“Dante,” his father interrupted him. “This isn’t helping anyone.

We must keep our heads and figure out what is best for Eli.”

“We should get him to your quarters,” a priest finally suggested.

“He will likely be more comfortable there. And after that…Well, the
only thing you can do is wait and hope.”

Wait and hope. As he heard those words, there was nothing he

wanted to do more than to pounce the priest and tear his throat out.

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Chapter Four

Eli floated through the darkness of unconsciousness, aware of

very little except the very clear possibility of being stuck here. He
wondered idly if this was death, but no, it didn’t feel right. He was
just so weary. He wanted to sleep, to remain here and rest for a while
longer. Dante wouldn’t mind. Dante always understood him.

The distant thought almost seemed to open a mental pathway

through the darkness. The sound of angry voices reached out to him,
urging him to return to the real world. “You forced this on him!” an
angry man said. “He could have died. It might still happen. How
could you do this to me, Father? How?”

He sounded so sweetly familiar to Eli, and even in his exhausted

state, he easily recognized Dante. On instinct, he wanted to reach out
to the bloodkin, to tell him everything would be all right.

“Dante, stay calm,” another voice said. “He’s fine. He’s just

weakened by the process. We did the right thing.”

It took a little more effort to figure out the identity of the second

speaker, but Eli’s logic managed to identify him as Aran. The
Imperator appeared to be attempting to calm Dante down, but it
wasn’t working at all.

“The right thing?” Dante repeated in disbelief. “Mother Earth,

how can you say that? Look at him.”

Whatever Dante was urging Aran to observe didn’t make Dante

happy in the slightest. “I admit I had my doubts in bringing him to
Tachaka. And then I saw how you treated him. I saw your openness
toward him, and I dared to have hope. Apparently, I was mistaken.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

“We’re on the right track, Highness,” another man said. “If you’d

just be good enough to notice…”

“Silence!” Aran bellowed. “My son is completely correct. You

have failed him. I have failed him by not keeping his mate safe.”

At that, Eli opened his eyes. As his vision began to clear of the

dizziness, he saw that he’d been returned into his chambers at some
point. Dante, Aran, and a man he recognized as a one of the priests
who’d been present for the ritual were talking a few feet away from
the bed Eli lay in.

Honestly, Eli didn’t know what was going on. The last thing he

remembered was being on the marble platform and having sex with
Dante. No, there had been something else. Eli had been fighting to
help Dante’s soul return into his body. Had something gone wrong?
He couldn’t recall.

“Dante?” he asked, his voice coming out raspy and weak. “Dante,

please…”

Eli honestly couldn’t remember how many times he’d asked

Dante for something. More often than not, though, his pleas were
erotic in nature. There was nothing erotic about them now. Eli just
wanted Dante by his side.

Instantly, Dante turned toward Eli, his black gaze fixing on the

bed and Eli’s form. In seconds, he was by Eli’s side and took his
hand, squeezing it tightly. “Welcome back,” he said with a tremulous
smile.

For a few moments, Eli dared to hope that their experiment had

worked and Dante was back. After all, Dante had been speaking with
Aran and the priest with no problem. He seemed to have more solidity
than ever before. But as their hands touched, Eli knew it was not the
case. Yes, Dante appeared to be more…normal, for lack of a better
word, but Eli still felt that telltale chill that differentiated his first
memory of Dante from his current reality.

“It didn’t work,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment.

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“It almost did,” the priest hurried to explain. “We were very close

to uniting His Highness’s soul with his body, but something went
wrong because of the large amount of energy needed from your part.
His Highness had to pull back.”

Eli gasped, his eyes widened. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t strong

enough. I failed you.”

“No, baby,” Dante hurried to reassure him. He brushed his lips

over Eli’s, and while the kiss was as sweet as ever, Eli felt he didn’t
deserve it. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It’s just the process that’s not perfected,” Aran explained. “You

were very brave and very strong.”

Hope swelled in Eli’s chest. “So if we try again it could work?

Perhaps when I’m more rested, once I’ve eaten and slept better.”

“That would definitely be helpful,” the priest offered. “And we

have already learned a great deal from this first attempt. We can make
it safe—”

“Absolutely not,” Dante said, glowering at the other two bloodkin

present. “I won’t risk my mate again.”

Dante’s voice held so much decision that Eli just knew his lover

was on the brink of taking a step neither of them could undo. He
pulled on Dante’s hand, drawing his mate’s attention toward him once
more. “Dante, please. Don’t do this. Give it one more chance. Have a
little faith. We can do it, as long as we stick together.”

“Baby, you didn’t see what I did. You almost died. I wouldn’t be

able to bear it if something happened to you because of me.”

“We’ll be more careful the next time,” Eli insisted. “I didn’t

expect it either, so I pushed myself beyond what I could handle. But I
will learn to control it. I will work with the priests to direct the
energy.” He pleadingly glanced at Dante’s face. “This is our chance,
Dante. You’re so much better now, I can tell. We’re so very close.
Don’t give up now. Please.”

Dante took a deep breath, obviously torn between Eli’s wishes and

his own need to protect Eli. “We’ll see,” he finally said. Turning

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

toward the priest, he ordered, “Get my mate some sustenance. He
needs to recover after his ordeal.”

By rights, it wasn’t the cleric’s task to do that, but nevertheless,

the man rushed out. Aran remained in the room and kissed Dante’s
forehead. It was the first time there had been any real contact between
the two bloodkin. They had tried, through Eli most of the time, but it
hadn’t truly worked. The fact that they could do so now, even to a
certain extent, spoke volumes of the progress that had been made.

“Be at ease, my son,” Aran whispered. “I know we made a

mistake, but I wish for Eli’s safety as well. You might not realize it,
but he does mean a lot to me as well.” Aran threw a gaze in Eli’s
direction. “After all, he brought you back to me.”

Even if Eli hadn’t forgotten what Aran had done, he couldn’t help

a small smile. They were in this battle together, and it was honestly
much better to have Aran on his side than fighting against him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he offered. “I’m flattered by your

trust in me.”

A shadow of grief passed through Aran’s eyes. “It’s the least I can

do after everything.” Pulling away, he added, “I’ll leave you for now.
There are still numerous things I must see to. Please, take care of each
other, and I will see you in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Father.” Dante bowed formally. “Your support

means a lot to us.”

For the first time, Dante was the one who saw his father out of the

quarters he and Eli shared. Eli mused over that for a few moments,
adamant to have a long conversation with Dante when the bloodkin
returned. But in spite of his determination, the wait drew out for too
long. Finally, Eli’s eyes started to drift shut. He succumbed to
exhaustion with one crystal-clear thought in his mind. He would not
allow his mate to give up. Somehow, they’d be together in every
possible way. He was sure of it.

* * * *

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As he left his son’s quarters, Aran Bloodclaw mused over what

he’d learned today. There seemed to be a distinct possibility for Dante
to be able to come back. He had seen clear progress today. It was
more than regrettable that it had come at the expense of Eli’s pain. He
had been honest in that he did care about the elf. However, he had
faith that those obstacles weren’t insurmountable. Finally, they had a
battle plan, and Aran fully intended to explore all the possibilities that
had opened this day. Fortunately, he had Eli’s valuable support, and
he was relying on the elf to convince his more reluctant son to
participate.

In the meantime, though, Aran had a couple of issues of his own.

He had not mentioned it to Dante or Eli, as he didn’t want to concern
the two, but he was well aware that Dante’s brothers were growing
increasingly restless and planning something behind Aran’s back.

He had people of his utmost trust following Gideon and Valerian

and had found out that his older sons meant to betray him. It was still
unclear as to what exactly they intended, as they remained very
careful in their proceedings. Nevertheless, if Aran pushed a little more
in his inquiries, he would likely be able to prove his sons’ treachery
beyond any shadow of a doubt.

A few months ago, Aran might have been inclined to do just that,

to eliminate the threat outright. Today, his heart just wouldn’t let him,
not after what had happened with Dante. Gideon and Valerian were
his children, after all. They might not understand him to the extent
Dante did, but he still loved them.

He had to find a way to deter them from their actions. But treason

was treason, and if they went through with their plan, Aran would
have no choice but to punish them as the law dictated. Through death.

This brought to mind a different issue. Not many knew what had

truly happened, the real cause of Dante’s demise. If Aran had revealed
it, he’d be in a whole different predicament altogether. Of course,
technically speaking, Dante had suffered through his punishment, but

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

it could be argued that Aran’s insistence to bring him back went
against bloodkin laws.

Aran wanted to protect Dante from all that, from the filth and the

treachery. He wanted to at least give Dante time to heal, to find his
way back. But it was not easy, not when he had to pretend to remain
the same ruthless Imperator the court knew and hated.

Suppressing a sigh, Aran headed toward the throne room. Hiding

his true emotions behind his practiced mask, he burst inside, his
guards silent shadows behind him. “Send for Gideon and Valerian,”
he ordered. “I wish to see them.”

He put the maximum amount of chillness and irritation in his

voice, something that didn’t go unnoticed. The guards bowed lowly,
hardly even daring to look at him. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. At
once.”

As they scampered away to do his bidding, Aran relaxed on the

throne and scanned the room. Memories assaulted him, images from a
time when things had been easier. He had never wanted to be
Imperator. He had loved his father, the previous bloodkin leader,
perhaps more than his sire had expected. Still, he hadn’t done so out
of ambition. He would have been satisfied with an administrative
position at his brother’s side if tragedy struck and took his beloved
father away.

Sadly, tragedy had indeed separated him from his family. His own

brother had killed their sire in a bid for power. Aran had been forced
to follow the law and sentence his own sibling to death.

It had hurt, but he had no regrets, not in that regard. But his

children…Oh, he’d committed so many mistakes already with them.
He could never forgive himself for what he’d done to Dante. How
could he possibly hurt his other two boys as well?

He was still musing over how to proceed when the doors to the

throne room opened. “Their Imperial Highnesses, Prince Gideon and
Prince Valerian,” the usher announced.

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Aran had no use for formality and no desire to dwell on it now.

“Send them in,” he ordered briskly.

Gideon and Valerian walked inside, framed by a group of guards.

It was completely normal of them to have their own men watching
their backs, but Dante still frowned. “Out,” he ordered everyone else.
“I wish to speak with my sons alone.”

Was it his impression or did some of the guards hesitate in

complying? Either way, they had no choice but to obey and left the
throne room, closing the large doors behind themselves.

For a few moments, Aran allowed himself the luxury to scan his

older sons’ faces. Unlike Dante, neither of them resembled him too
much physically. Valerian was a lot like his mother, his green eyes
piercing, mysterious, and often times, hiding too many secrets, just
like the plant he’d been named after. He wore his hair long, in an
intricate braid, the way Aran did, and he had inherited some
distinguishing features, such as Aran’s cheekbones and lips.
Nevertheless, he remained very much his mother’s son, in more than
one way.

In the meantime, Aran’s eldest, Gideon, held the same classical

handsomeness that had once allowed Aran’s father to break many
hearts. His stern nose and rigid posture gave him an aristocratic
bearing more than appropriate for a king. He was, above all, a
warrior, and every inch of him, from his muscular body to his shrewd
black eyes, showed it.

Personally, Aran wasn’t as shallow and as vain to allow a little

thing like physical resemblance to make him favor one child over
another. However, the differences between himself and his two older
children went beyond appearance. They had very different priorities.
For a little while, Aran had lost himself to hunger for power, and the
consequences had naturally appeared. His older children both showed
a propensity for making similar mistakes, and Aran had to correct that
before it was too late.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

When he didn’t speak, Gideon finally took the initiative and

tentatively asked, “You wanted to see us, Father?”

Aran arched a brow. It was unusual for a lower ranking individual

to address the Imperator before being spoken to, but Gideon had
always been strong willed, even daring. Nevertheless, Aran couldn’t
let the issue slide. He dismissed Gideon’s inquiry and turned toward
Valerian. “I understand you have some concerns, Valerian,” he said.
“I wish to hear them now.”

“I have faith in my Imperator and in Tachaka,” Valerian replied

almost automatically. “I am not concerned.”

Aran chuckled. “Very well.” He decided to be lenient, just this

time. Sometimes, it paid to take a step back and pretend to be weak,
so that he could take his adversary by surprise later on. Even if he
didn’t like thinking of his children as adversaries, it was nevertheless
a fact. As such, he offered them both a small smile and gestured them
forward. “If you won’t share your worries with your leader, perhaps
you would do so with your father. And yes, Gideon, I wanted to
discuss with you. After all, your concerns are mine.”

Gideon’s face was an unreadable mask, or at least tried to be.

Aran had gotten very good at reading people, particularly those from
his family. No matter how much Gideon tried, he could not hide his
apprehension from Aran.

“Speak freely,” Aran prodded. “It’s been a very confusing time

for our family, and I wish to clarify all misunderstandings.”

“Your wish is my command, Father,” Gideon replied. “It is about

Dante.”

When Gideon said nothing else, Aran was forced to once again

insist, “What about him?”

“We were very grieved upon hearing of our brother’s death,”

Valerian said carefully. A shadow darkened his green eyes, and he
seemed to be trying to find the best words to explain the situation.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were aware of the

circumstances of Dante’s death. In fact, Aran would have been

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disappointed if they hadn’t found out. The bloodkin imperial
residence was a place of great intrigue, but generally, all the children
of the reigning Imperator had their own group of followers who kept
them informed even of things that weren’t public knowledge. Right
now, Dante’s little army had been disbanded, although Aran had
refrained from killing them out of respect for his dead son. However,
Gideon’s and Valerian’s networks of spies remained very much
active.

Taking advantage of this, Aran retrieved the Imperial Blade and

started to toy with it, flipping it around in the air. He actually hated
the knife, ever since he had ended his son’s life with it. In his darkest
moments, before Dante’s return, he’d considered using it on himself.
But in the end, he’d done no such thing, and kept the weapon close as
a reminder of his never-ending guilt, of what he needed to do, of his
mistakes and promises. This time, however, the knife was a clear
threat, even if he didn’t outright point it at his children.

“And you are concerned because you know what truly happened

there, why Dante died,” he said. “Tell me. How do you feel about
that? Did it surprise you to hear about what Dante had done?”

“Actually, yes,” Gideon answered slowly. “He always…He

respected Your Majesty a great deal. I’d have never thought that
the…deference he showed you was nothing but deception.”

He didn’t speak of affection or caring, but that didn’t surprise

Aran. Sadly, his oldest boys were unreachable in that regard, and it
was in many ways Aran’s fault. When Gideon and Valerian had been
born, Aran had still been struggling with rebuilding what had been
broken by his own father’s death. He hadn’t spent as much time with
his sons as he should have. Their mothers had been an unfortunate
choice for concubines. Dante had actually been in a similar
situation—bloodkin women were not known for their warm and
caring nature—but Dante had always had a far more resilient, open
soul. It was for this reason that Gideon and Valerian had never truly

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

understood Aran, and showing preference for the youngest of them
couldn’t have helped.

At this point, there was very little Aran could do to reach out to

Gideon and Valerian as a parent. It was a horrible time, and he needed
to stabilize the nation and the Kin Lords, not worry about treachery in
his own house. Speaking of emotion would just cultivate Gideon and
Valerian’s belief that he was weak.

As such, no matter how much he hated it, he’d have to wait to

mend this unbearable chasm between himself and his two older sons.
“It was not deception,” he explained, “but the belief that he knew
better. It’s unfortunate, but he was punished accordingly.”

“And yet, there are rumors now that you are trying to bring him

back from the dead,” Valerian offered. Ah, so they were finally
getting to the crux of the issue. “There’s even an elf here, one who
claims he can help you with this task. You’ve kept us from your trust
for months now, Father, but the rumors cannot be contained. What is
truly going on? What are the priests attempting to—”

“Valerian,” Gideon interrupted his older sibling, “that’s quite

enough. We cannot question Father’s decisions. It is not our place.”

“No, it isn’t,” Aran confirmed. “Nevertheless, I will give you an

answer. Your brother is already back. You must have heard tell of the
fact that the elf claims to have Dante’s soul within him. It is true. I
have seen it with my own eyes.”

Valerian just gaped at him. “But how?” he asked breathlessly.

“How can this be?”

Gideon remained as calm and collected as ever, obviously very

much doubting Aran’s words. Deep inside, Valerian was likely
thinking the same thing, but he’d chosen a different approach and
reaction, perhaps intending to investigate the matter a little closer.

“Like it is not your business to inquire into my actions, I cannot

doubt those of Mother Earth. I can only conclude that She means to
return Dante to us. Dante has suffered his punishment. He
understands his mistake. Right now, he cannot come back in a normal

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form, but we have faith that it will happen. When it does, I expect
both of you to receive him with open arms.”

“Of course,” Gideon answered blankly. “As always, we live to

serve.”

Aran just smiled. “Do you have any more questions?”
“Would it be possible for us to see Dante?” Gideon inquired, still

with the same cool, detached tone. “Perhaps we can extend our
welcome and support to our brother.”

“I will consider it,” Aran replied. It might actually be good for all

three of his children. The brothers had never been close, as they had
different mothers and different interests, but it was never too late to
try.

“In the meantime, Gideon, I’d like you to work on a

reorganization of our troops in the western area. Valerian, work with
your brother, but focus specifically on the South. I want elaborate
reports from all the Kin Lords. Centralize them and give me data on
how many blood donors they keep, how they’re using their funding
and contributing to the imperial coffers.”

He continued to give them tasks, issues they were more than

qualified to handle, but which amounted to very tedious and time-
consuming work. At one point, even Gideon’s eyes began to glaze at
what Aran was demanding of them.

However, keeping them busy with less sensitive issues was for the

best until Aran managed to solve the more serious problems. He had
to talk to the Kin Lords himself, of course, but these meetings were
strictly political and the administrative aspect of the Lords’ holdings
wasn’t as important as the way they handled their duties. These
reports would come directly to him and not through his sons.

He had other plans, ideas he was struggling with in the long hours

when nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep. The truth was that bloodkin
were expanding beyond their current resources. Aran had been aware
of that for quite some time, and in his arrogance, he’d gone against
everything he’d once believed in while attempting to solve the

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

problem. He had wanted to give Dante the world, but also to free his
son, his heir from anything that would shadow his future reign.

Seeing what he had done to his son had brought him back, but it

still didn’t eliminate the issue. Aran needed to find new ways of
acquiring sustenance without unbalancing the current state of affairs.
There were a lot of humans who were willing to act as donors, but
also an increasing number of bloodkin. Animal blood could work as a
substitute, but it simply didn’t provide what bloodkin needed and
wanted.

Right now, Aran was interested in exploring the lands beyond the

Great Waters a little further. Bloodkin had never gone so far before,
mostly because a large part of the area was under the influence of
Manturanael and the elves.

But his first priority remained Dante and getting his son back. It

was hard enough to have to be both a father and an Imperator at the
same time. He didn’t need to be worried about having his older sons
stab him in the back.

“Do you understand your new duties?” he finally asked.
“Yes, Father,” Gideon dutifully replied. “Perfectly.”
“Of course, Sire,” Valerian said in turn. “Thank you for your

trust.”

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”
As his two older sons left the room, a man drifted from the

shadows and entered the throne room. “Watch them,” Aran ordered.

The spy nodded and bowed. “It will be as you will it, Majesty.”
Aran grinned. “Thank you, Thomson. Your loyalty will be, as

always, greatly rewarded.”

The wraith’s eyes glittered with lust as he leaned ever so slightly

toward Aran. Aran arched a brow and shook his head. He was not in
the mood for anything sexual right now, and the wraith hadn’t done
anything to earn any specific favors.

Swallowing nervously, Thomson pulled away. “I will return when

I have more information for you.”

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Aran watched him go with a smile. He still had countless aces up

his sleeve that not even Dante was aware of, and if anyone tried to
betray him again, they would understand the true meaning of his
wrath.

* * * *

After Eli’s awakening, the hours dragged on forever. At first,

Dante had panicked when he had found Eli practically unconscious
again, but as it turned out, his mate had only been sleeping. The
priests expected him to make a complete recovery.

Still, Dante didn’t move from Eli’s side. The fact that he didn’t

actually have any physical necessities came in handy, and he waited
there, next to Eli’s bed, wondering what he was going to do now. Eli
wanted to try again and Dante had sort of promised that he would
agree. But was he making another mistake in allowing Eli to persuade
him? He knew himself well and he realized that if he was truly against
something, he wouldn’t do it. However, he couldn’t help but
remember Eli’s words. This went beyond a simple plea from his mate.
Eli had asked him to have faith. How could Dante refuse?

Time passed slowly as Dante mused over what to do next. There

were so many things he’d have done differently if he had been given
the chance, but now…Now it looked like his path was set out for him
and there was nothing he could do but tread it.

“You look so serious,” a familiar, beloved voice commented.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dante jumped, guiltily realizing that he’d been so lost in thought

he hadn’t realized his mate had woken up. “How long have you been
watching me?” he inquired, gently cupping Eli’s cheek.

“Not long,” Eli replied with a small smile. “Now don’t try to

avoid the question. What’s on your mind?”

Dante wanted to be strong for Eli. He owed his mate that, after

everything that had happened. But Eli had a way of crumbling his

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

every defense, and Dante found himself blurting out everything. “I
just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to protect you,
how to make you happy. I want to be a good mate for you, but I’m
failing so miserably.”

“You’re not failing.” Eli frowned and brushed his thumb over

Dante’s lower lip. “Don’t ever say that. You’re the best mate a man
could ever want. We’ve encountered a couple of hiccups along the
way, but I believe we’ll make things work eventually.”

Hiccups? Dante almost couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re truly a

master of understatements, aren’t you, baby?”

They chuckled together, allowing themselves the brief moment of

amusement and relaxation. Sadly, they were once more interrupted by
a knock at the door. “Your father again,” Eli said.

Dante grimaced. He cared about his sire, but he was still not over

what had happened earlier that day. “I trust he brings us better tidings
now,” he answered.

“Technically speaking, we did receive good news,” Eli pointed

out. “We just didn’t have a clear grasp on how to handle it.”

Eli’s continued optimism humbled Dante. He had to admit that, at

times, he almost couldn’t understand his mate. Eli seemed determined
to sacrifice his own welfare even for the slightest hope of getting
Dante back. Dante wasn’t sure what he’d done to warrant that kind of
devotion, but he kept himself from addressing it. Instead, he headed
toward the door and let his father in.

“Greetings, Father,” he said. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course,” Aran replied as he entered the room. “How is

Eli?”

“He’s actually just awoken, but he’s not up for another ritual.”

Dante frowned, unable to contain his disapproval. “Surely you know
that.”

As he spoke, Eli slipped out of the bedroom and into the main

receiving room. He threw Dante a reprimanding look, then said,

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“Your Majesty, thank you for taking an interest in my well-being. I’m
on the mend.”

“Excellent,” the Imperator answered. “I don’t mean to keep you

from your much-needed rest. I just came to bring a small matter to my
son’s attention.” Turning toward Dante once more, he added, “Your
brothers wish to meet with you.”

Dante froze in shock. So far, his father had kept him away from

Gideon and Valerian. Dante had honestly preferred it that way,
especially since it was likely they wouldn’t have been able to see him.
Now, though, a meeting was possible, perhaps even inevitable.

“Do you want me to see them?” he asked his father slowly.
“A good question,” Aran commented. “I suppose that, to a certain

extent, it would benefit me for them to learn that I’m not insane and
pursuing shadows. On the other hand, I don’t particularly intend to
involve them in any of my more sensitive plans. In the end, it’s your
choice. I won’t force you either way.”

It was true. His father would not push him into something he

didn’t feel ready for. Nevertheless, Aran might not be saying it, but
this was an important decision, more so than what it seemed at first
glance.

Eli seemed a little puzzled, still not fully understanding the family

dynamics even if he intellectually acknowledged it. But Dante did
grasp all the subtleties of it. Right now, for good or ill, there was a far
larger chance that he would be able to come back and take his
previous place in the imperial family. Gideon’s and Valerian’s
reactions were important. The bloodkin were already in turmoil over
issues that Dante couldn’t currently get involved into. At the very
least, he could attempt to gain his brothers’ cooperation.

“All right, Father,” he answered. “They are my siblings and

deserve this simple courtesy. I agree.”

“Can I join you?” Eli asked hesitantly. “I know this is probably a

private meeting for the family, but I don’t like the thought of leaving
Dante’s side.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

“Oh, baby.” Dante wanted to hug Eli and never let go. “It

wouldn’t be for long.”

“Actually, your mate has a point. Hiding him here in these

quarters is useless. It would be far more recommendable for people to
start meeting him, too.”

Dante couldn’t argue against that. So far, the only people who

knew Eli were the priests of Mother Earth. They were good people,
and they got along with Eli well enough, but they almost never left
their temples. This was actually why information on Eli was so
limited amongst other bloodkin.

If he wanted to be honest, Dante was more than comfortable with

the current situation. It meant that the risk on Eli’s life was kept at the
minimum. Exposing his mate to his brothers was unwarranted and a
chance he shouldn’t take, especially when Eli had just gone through
such a difficult experience.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t only his choice to make. Dante could

attempt to protect his mate all he wanted, but in the end, he respected
Eli too much to truly keep him from something.

“Be honest, baby,” he said. “Do you think you’re up for it? It

won’t be easy. My brothers aren’t exactly the most pleasant people to
be around.”

“I’m not worried.” Eli shrugged. “I’m more resilient than you

think, Dante, and I’m already feeling much better. This is important
for you, so it’s important for me, too. I want to do it.”

“We can hold the meeting here,” Aran offered. “We’ll keep it

brief, so that Eli doesn’t get tired. I believe that the gist of what your
brothers aim to learn can be said in a couple of minutes.”

For the millionth time that day, Dante released a heavy sigh. Aran

and Eli were right. They couldn’t hide here forever, not from his
brothers, not from the world of the bloodkin. In the end, like Eli had
said, it was all about faith. Dante had to stop doubting and believe.
After all, no matter how many attempts either of them made to fix
this, only love could truly help. And if there was anything Dante

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trusted in this world, it was his and Eli’s love. Against that, he could
make no argument.

So without further comment, he agreed to the meeting. He only

hoped that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

* * * *

The first thing Eli noticed about the older bloodkin princes was

how different they were from Dante. He had seen them before, in
passing and from the distance, but never from up close.

But as they entered his and Dante’s quarters, he noticed it all now,

and the difference shook him. These men weren’t like Dante. They
weren’t even like Vane and Cole Bloodmoor, or like their father, who
had many times shown emotion. Gideon and Valerian Bloodclaw
were blank slates. Eli couldn’t read them at all, couldn’t even see a
shadow of dislike or repulsion. He wanted to believe that it was a
mask. Anything was better than the thought of his mate having such
cold and emotionless siblings.

Aran let the two princes inside, opening the door for them when

they were led here by a group of guards. The Imperator then stepped
aside, leaning against the wall and giving them space. Dante had not
yet made his appearance, as he and Eli had decided to monitor their
reactions to Eli first.

Eli got up from the settee he’d been lounging on. “Thank you for

coming,” he said. “Your interest is greatly appreciated.”

“We have not come here for you, elf,” the younger of the princes,

Valerian, said. Eli recognized him easily, mostly because of the
difference in build and stance, but also due to Valerian’s very
distinctive eye color. “We wanted to see our brother.”

“Remember yourself, Valerian,” Aran warned. “Eli is a guest in

my house, and I won’t have you slight him in any way.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

Immediately, Valerian revised his behavior. “Of course, Father. It

is merely impatience that sharpened my tongue. We are very eager to
be reunited with Dante.”

“I understand completely,” Eli hastened to say, “and your

wariness toward me is understandable. But let me introduce myself. I
am Eli Starburst, Dante’s mate.”

“His mate,” Gideon said, speaking for the first time. He almost

seemed amused, although Eli suspected it would be a mistake to
interpret Gideon’s reactions by his normal standards. “I see. And I
take it we have you to thank for our brother’s imminent return.”

“Indeed,” Dante answered in Eli’s stead as he appeared from the

bedroom. “Cut the sarcasm, brother. It was never your strong point.”

Dante’s appearance caused quite a reaction. Neither of the two

older bloodkin princes seemed to have expected their father’s claim to
actually amount to anything. Eli actually experienced a great deal of
satisfaction upon seeing the shock on their faces, one that not even
they could hide.

The surprise passed in but a moment, and both Gideon and

Valerian snapped back. “Dante,” Gideon said neutrally. “I suppose it
would be a foolish endeavor to ask if that’s really you.”

“I expect you know me well enough to judge that for yourself,

Gideon,” Dante answered. “Yes, it’s me. This is my…spiritual form,
so to speak. My body remains in the temples. With Eli’s help, we are
attempting to unite the two.”

“I see,” Gideon replied. “And have you had any luck in this

endeavor?”

“To a certain extent, yes,” Aran piped up, “but it is very taxing on

Eli, and we wish to make sure Dante’s mate is completely safe before
we proceed further.”

“Taxing in what way?” Valerian inquired.
Eli wondered just how much they should be saying in this matter.

Gideon and Valerian might be Dante’s brothers, but that didn’t mean
they were trustworthy.

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“It is an energy exchange,” Aran offered, much to Eli’s surprise.

“To return to his physical form, Dante needs a great deal of strength
and support, one which Eli, as his mate, is struggling to provide. But
it is of course not something easily handled, and we cannot rush the
process.”

“Of course,” Gideon repeated, his gaze scanning Eli from head to

toe. “You do look a little pale, Lord Starburst.”

Eli didn’t like being the center of attention like that. This meeting

wasn’t about him, in the end, but about Dante. Alas, Gideon’s words
did make Dante focus on Eli. “Are you all right?” his lover inquired.
“Come on. Sit down.”

Even if he hated being babied, Eli obeyed. The last thing Dante

needed was something else to be worried about. “I’m fine,” he said as
he sat down. “Please, continue your conversation.”

“We can do so another time if you’d prefer,” Valerian said.
Eli just shook his head, and Dante seemed to resign himself to the

situation. “He’s stubborn,” he told his brothers, “and he’ll never
forgive me if I asked you to leave now. Please, make yourselves
comfortable. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Maybe you’re even
angry at me.”

“We’re not angry,” Gideon said, staring straight at Dante and

apparently choosing to speak in Valerian’s name as well. Then again,
of course they weren’t furious. They had no reason to be, if they were
emotionless. “We would like to know, however, how you made your
way back and what your intentions are at this point.”

As both Gideon and Valerian took Dante’s invitation and sat

down, Dante chuckled. “My intentions? I have to be alive to proceed
with any particular plan. Right now, I just want to do that. Once we
manage—as we all hope will be the case—I trust Father will have
numerous tasks for me, things to catch up on. The rest will come in
time. As for how it happened, I cannot take the credit in any way. Eli
brought me back. I believe Mother Earth gave us another chance to be
together because of how much Eli and I cared about each other.”

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

As he spoke, Dante plopped down next to Eli and gripped Eli’s

hand. “Well, you definitely haven’t changed,” Valerian mumbled
under his breath.

The comment actually sounded derogatory, but Eli held his tongue

and placed his head on Dante’s shoulder. At that, Aran clapped his
hands together and said, “Well, in spite of what Eli might say, I think
it’s high time we ended this meeting. There’ll be plenty of time to
discuss things further.”

“Indeed,” Gideon answered, now getting up. “We have a great

many tasks to accomplish and we cannot linger.”

Dante left the couch as his brothers readied themselves to leave.

In spite of still feeling a little weak, Eli followed his mate’s example.
“Again, thank you for your interest,” he said, smiling. “I believe that
your assistance would be invaluable in these difficult times.”

It was his way to offer an olive branch. He didn’t know if it

worked or not as the bloodkin princes remained as unreadable as ever.
Still, he thought he detected a small smile on Valerian’s lips, just
before the other man turned toward the door.

Eli wasn’t sure what it meant, or if it was a good sign or a bad

omen. Nevertheless, he was more than relieved when both the princes
and the Imperator left the quarters he shared with Dante.

“Well, that was interesting,” he commented.
“If by interesting you mean excruciatingly awkward, yes,” Dante

replied. “Let’s just go to bed, baby. You need your rest, and I need to
hold you.”

They were both aware that Dante couldn’t hold him, not really, no

matter how much solidity the bloodkin had gained. Still, as they
retreat to their quarters, he once more gave thanks that Dante had
turned out such a great man. Comparing Dante to his brothers truly
put things into perspective, and now more than ever, Eli was proud to
be Dante’s mate.

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Chapter Five

A few weeks later

Dante had always had honest appreciation for more

unconventional places to have sex in. He was by no means shy, not
necessarily because he had no reason to, but rather because it simply
wasn’t a smart thing to be in the bloodkin imperial family. However,
he was gaining new appreciation for the comfort of a simple bed and
the privacy of his own quarters.

Dante shook himself as he climbed on top of Eli on the marble

platform. He hated to say it, but he was beginning to have a visceral
reaction just from entering this room. No sooner had he entered the
temple than his cock hardened in anticipation of what was to come.
But then, who could blame him, with such a lovely mate, waiting for
his embrace, for his kisses, and of course, for his dick? But yes, he’d
have much preferred to enjoy his mate in private, and it irritated him
that he had to go through this process again and again.

Eli arched a brow at him and grinned. “Don’t you look eager. One

would think it’s a chore to have sex with me.”

“Impertinent little elf,” Dante growled. “It’s always a chore

dealing with you. You never listen.”

That was a humongous lie, and they both knew it. But they

enjoyed playing this game, as proven by the shiver that went through
Eli’s slender frame. In the end, when they came together, their
location truly mattered very little. Dante had actually started to grow
accustomed to the witnesses, although his jealousy still reared its ugly
head from time to time.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

But the thing that truly made him reluctant to step through these

doors was not possessiveness, but concern. Dante couldn’t help but
fear that one of these days, they’d make another mistake and Eli
would pay for it. So far, it hadn’t happened. The priests had kept their
word and kept the elf safe. But Dante’s need to protect Eli increased
with every day that passed, and he always wondered what if.

As he started to pepper Eli’s face with kisses, Eli somehow

managed to breathe out, “How are your brothers? Have you managed
to speak to them today?”

Dante froze in the act of licking Eli’s collarbone. “You cannot be

serious. We’re trying to have sex here, and you’re asking me about
my brothers? Believe me, right now, I couldn’t focus on them if I
tried.”

Eli grinned at him, his gold eyes shining like the sun. Dante could

lose himself in the heat burning in those orbs, melt in Eli’s hot
passion. He might always take control of their lovemaking, but in
their relationship, Eli had the upper hand. Whether the elf knew it or
not, he held the keys to Dante’s heart. Dante would have said that at
this point, Eli was as important to him as his life or his breath, but he
knew better now. He no longer had either of those things, but his bond
with Eli had endured.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Eli purred, wrapping his

arms around Dante’s neck, “like I’m precious to you.”

“That’s because you are precious to me,” Dante murmured.
Eli already knew that, but Dante still liked to say it, over and over

again. No matter how much Eli might try to hide or downplay it, the
elf still very much missed Manturanael. Being exiled by his own
father hurt him deeply, and he felt the absence of everything that was
familiar and dear to him very acutely. Dante couldn’t replace what Eli
had lost, and he had no intentions to try. He respected Eli too much
for such a thing. He did, however, plan to show Eli so much love that
the elf would never lack for anything.

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There were no words after that, just sweet, stolen kisses. Dante

covered Eli’s mouth with his own, allowing his passion to speak for
him. Eli’s taste overpowered Dante’s senses, making him drunk with
lust. He didn’t even know what to touch first, craving each and every
part of Eli’s body.

As he feasted on Eli’s mouth, he swept his hands over the elf’s

flanks, testing and exploring, enjoying the silky texture of Eli’s skin.
Mother Earth, he could never get enough of Eli, and he didn’t even
want to. Every time they came together, it was just as special, just as
perfect as their previous lovemaking sessions, or, impossibly enough,
perhaps even more. Dante was simply hypnotized by it, by the
loveliness of his mate and the profound beauty he controlled.

He only broke the kiss because, even in this form, he couldn’t be

everywhere at once, and he needed his mouth for other purposes. As
he engulfed a pink nipple in his mouth, Eli’s cries echoed against the
walls of the temple, his moans and whimpers assaulting Dante’s
already-frayed control.

One would have thought that a man continuing on in an existence

beyond the flesh wouldn’t have such problems. By rights, Dante
shouldn’t be responding to Eli quite to this extent. But when they
were together, no rules applied. Dante supposed he should have
guessed that having sex with Eli would provide him with the chance
to return to his mate’s side. One thing was certain in all of this.
Whenever they made love, Dante felt more alive and real than he’d
been even before his death.

Around them, Dante heard the chanting and occasional discreet

whisper coming from the priests. As their attempts to bring Dante
back intensified, the high priest had started to bring more and more
people, mostly for safety purposes. Dante had grown very adept in
ignoring them, though, and Eli didn’t seem to mind either. As always,
the elf focused solely on Dante, and Dante liked it that way.

Fortunately, Gideon and Valerian didn’t participate in these little

sessions. Dante could handle his father being here without feeling too

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

awkward, but he didn’t like the thought of having his siblings witness
Eli’s charms.

Right then and there, though, no one mattered but the two of them.

The priests were irrelevant beyond the fact that they were doing their
job. Dante’s father had, as always, disappeared from sight, and his
siblings were not here to frustrate Dante with their mysterious
statements, sarcastic comments, and little digs. All distractions aside,
Dante had every intention to lavish the full extent of his attention
upon the elf.

Eli’s nipples were beautifully sensitive, something which Dante

had learned well in his time at Eli’s side. As such, he took advantage
of this knowledge and suckled at the tiny nubs, all the while
congratulating himself for his idea of disrobing before climbing onto
the platform. He’d have much preferred a bed for this, since it
couldn’t possibly be comfortable for Eli, but Eli actually seemed to
like the slight discomfort that came with fucking on the slab. And Eli
was very vocal when he liked something, his moans sweeping over
Dante like a physical caress.

Dante clung to his hard-earned control and resisted Eli’s lure for

as long as he could. He continued to torment one of the elf’s nipples
with his mouth, working the other one with his fingers. Every fiber in
his being strained to take Eli, to bury himself inside Eli’s welcoming
warmth, but he held back. He didn’t even grind against Eli’s nude
body, in spite of feeling Eli’s shaft leaking pre-cum all over his belly.
If he let go, he’d be unable to come back, and he wanted the buildup.
He craved it, and Eli deserved it. In this game, in this seduction, both
of them found sweet oblivion. Here, their problems ceased to exist,
and only the quest for pleasure remained. Dante loved every second
of it and had always enjoyed this type of play, even with previous
lovers. But with Eli, it went beyond anything he’d ever experienced
before. The pleasure he found in each carnal act multiplied simply
because of Eli’s reaction to it all.

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He lingered for a good couple of minutes on Eli’s nipples, and

then released the nubs of flesh. As he kissed down Eli’s chest, the
elf’s moans intensified, his anticipation almost palpable. Eli’s cock
swung around like a beacon, practically begging for attention. But it
was not the right moment, not just yet. Dante wanted to give Eli more,
to bring his mate to that edge where the sense of reality started to blur,
to see Eli’s gaze becoming hazed as his lover fully lost himself in the
moment. Under normal circumstances, he’d have had many tricks on
how to achieve that, some of them involving utensils that could bring
both great pleasure and great pain. But Eli was a stranger to such
experiences, and when they did explore it, Dante wanted it to be in
private, with both of them in a normal condition. After all, Dante
might have made good progress in the past weeks, but wielding a
whip on his mate’s flesh took skill, and he didn’t want to risk erring.
He still couldn’t use his telekinetic abilities, and he missed them more
than ever. He’d have very much like to see his mate bound by mental
shackles Dante himself summoned.

For the moment, he chose more discreet methods, which could be

just as satisfying if used correctly. With a chuckle, he bypassed his
mate’s dick, making Eli release a choked sound of distress. “Dante,
please,” the elf gasped out, fidgeting and starting to reach for him.

“Don’t,” Dante commanded. “I will take my pleasure with you as

I see fit, and you will not contradict me. Is that clear?”

Eli whimpered, but nodded. “Yes, Dante.”
In the past, Dante had asked his previous submissives to call him

Master, or Sir, but he didn’t do so with Eli. He didn’t feel the need to
emphasize the difference between them where their lovemaking
dynamics was concerned. It might have been because Eli surrendered
to him so naturally, without asking any question, or maybe due to
Eli’s absolute openness toward him. Eli had given Dante everything
in more than a sexual way, and the relationship between them didn’t
require labels.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

When Eli stilled on the platform, clutching the stone edges to hold

himself in check, Dante gave the elf a small smile to point out he was
pleased. As Eli looked into his eyes, the tension vanished from the
elf’s elegant features, replaced by an expression of peace. Oh, the
sexual tension was still very much present, as eloquently proven by
the rigid dick stubbornly attempting to draw Dante’s attention. But Eli
seemed to find strength and determination in Dante, as if merely
looking at Dante gave him a resolve beyond his own power.

Sometimes, Dante wondered what Eli saw in him. Yes, he had his

own personal accomplishments, and he might have been nicer than
other bloodkin. He wasn’t modest enough to forego his natural
handsomeness, intelligence, or his skill in the arts of passion. But he
was also too realistic not to understand that Eli might have been much
happier with an elf who didn’t have such a complicated existence. Of
course, by the time Eli and Dante had met, Eli had already chosen to
go against elven law to assist his old friend Kier, a feat of loyalty
which both angered Dante and made him proud. A small part of him
remained jealous of Kier Darksun, even if he was well aware that the
love story between the two elves had ended a long time ago. But still,
in his darker moments, Dante did ask himself if Eli’s life wouldn’t
have been better or easier with one of his own kind.

And then, Eli gave him one of those looks, and Dante’s mind

crumbled on itself. He knew that at this point, he would not be able to
let Eli go. Bloodkin loved obsessively, and in that regard, he was no
different from others of his kind. He honestly didn’t know what he’d
do if the possibility of a better future appeared for Eli, somewhere far
from him, but his selfish side made him wish it would never happen.

Pushing away all such thoughts, Dante started kissing down Eli’s

legs, tracing the elf’s thighs with his tongue, going all the way down
to Eli’s feet. Eli continued to moan and gasp, but he didn’t attempt to
coax Dante into anything, letting Dante set the pace. Dante took a
little time mapping his mate’s body with his tongue, then decided to
reward Eli for his obedience. Without giving his mate one word of

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warning, he crawled back up over Eli’s body and took Eli’s dick in
his mouth.

Dante loved dick. Other bloodkin who called themselves

dominants didn’t appreciate the way they could make a submissive
squirm by applying just the right amount of pressure at the right time,
by alternating nips and licks with harder sucks. Blow jobs were the
perfect way to control a lover’s body, and Dante knew every trick
there was in that regard. He shamelessly used them all on Eli, loving
his mate’s reactions to it all. Sometimes, he bobbed his head up and
down his lover’s cock, giving Eli the friction and heat he so
desperately needed. When he detected Eli might be approaching
climax, he stopped and squeezed Eli’s balls, holding it back, fanning
the flames of Eli’s desire without quenching the heat.

At one point, Eli’s remarkable control broke, and he dissolved

into pleading once more, “Oh, yes,” he gasped. “Suck me. Fuck me.
Take it. Oh, please, Dante.”

Each word was punctuated by a gasp. Dante was tempted to give

Eli a little punishment for actually believing he was in any way in
command of this, but the sound of Eli’s voice was too beautiful and
changed his mind. Yes, no matter how much he might have tried to
hide it, he had no defenses against Eli. But who could blame him?

He drew out the torture a while longer, just because Eli needed

him to stop. Finally, when he decided Eli had truly had enough, he
reached behind his mate and thrust two fingers inside Eli’s channel.
One significant advantage of Dante’s current form was that, even
when they had rougher sex, Eli couldn’t truly get hurt. Therefore,
more often than not, they no longer bothered with lubricant. Eli had,
in fact, explicitly asked Dante to abandon it. The elf craved the burn
and the bite of pain that sex with Dante should have provided. Dante
couldn’t give him that, not just yet, but he wasn’t adverse to using
current circumstances to his advantage.

Eli was, as always, very appreciative of his efforts. With a cry, he

exploded, sending hot spunk down Dante’s throat. This part of giving

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a blow job was always a little strange for Dante, at least now. During
the actual intercourse, he didn’t really notice, but the taste of the pre-
cum wasn’t as potent as it should have been. Oh, Dante enjoyed it,
and could, oddly, swallow Eli’s cum. He had no idea where it went
since he didn’t have a physical body that could process it. Still, it
remained clear to him that there was something missing. Even if his
soul allowed him to touch Eli’s body, they were still, in a way, kept
apart.

But Dante didn’t allow it to frustrate him. Instead, he took

advantage of the fact that his mate was floating on the waves of
climax. Releasing Eli’s dick from his mouth, he spread the elf’s legs
and lifted them on his shoulders. In one single thrust, he slid home.
Eli’s velvet heat enveloped him in a tight fist, and in spite of all of his
control, Dante couldn’t help but release a groan. “Oh, baby…”

“Yes,” Eli moaned, his dick already responding to Dante’s

penetration. “Just like that. Fuck me.”

Dante didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. He allowed

his body to speak for him, to show Eli how much he was wanted and
loved. It was easy, so very easy to forget himself when he fucked Eli,
but Dante held onto his composure furiously. He needed this to last,
needed to hold onto Eli forever. When he was with his mate, the
world, everything that conspired to separate them, simply melted in
the fire between them. Eli’s eyes had begun to gain that look Dante
had anticipated. Yes, this was what he had craved. There was nothing
that could compare with it, not in this world and likely not in any
other.

Over and over, he thrust in and out of Eli. His mate moved with

him, still clinging to the sides of the platform, although it seemed hard
for him now. Dante nodded, giving him permission to let go. Eli
instantly reached for him, clutching his shoulders, digging his
fingernails into Dante’s shoulders.

Dante was starting to feel a little light-headed. He sensed his

orgasm closing in quickly, but there was also that distinctive feeling

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of the power waiting for the right moment to act. Eli must have
experienced the same thing, as for a few moments, his eyes gained a
little clarity and he smiled.

There was hope in that gaze, and love, so much love. Coupled

with the physical pleasure, the intensity of it pushed Dante into
orgasm, and he came, sending his seed deep within Eli’s body.

In spite of his ghostly form, he could ejaculate, although his sperm

always vanished afterward. But for as long as he could, he wanted to
brand Eli as his, to bind him and mark his mate with his spunk. A
primal impulse, but one Dante couldn’t deny.

But as Eli’s ass tightened around him, the feeling of light-

headedness increased. Dante recognized the feeling now, and
although it bothered him to be separated from his mate in such a
special moment, he opened himself to it, accepting the power flowing
over him. His form disengaged from Eli’s, and Dante saw Eli reach
for him for a brief moment before the elf relaxed on the platform and
closed his eyes. With Eli’s focus and determination came a
strengthening of the odd magic ushering Dante toward the second
platform.

It went far more smoothly than the first time, but then, Dante had

expected that. They’d practiced more than once and stopped the
process only when it became apparent that it was straining Eli far too
much. Today, though, Dante had a feeling he’d never experienced
before, one of certainty. The flow of power was natural, as if he
floated on the waters of a calm river, one that caressed him and
soothed his senses. Unfortunately, the gentleness couldn’t last for
long, and out of the blue, Dante was thrust back into his stiff, cold
body. It seemed as if the warm river had, for some reason, plunged
him into an icy waterfall. Still, Dante didn’t fight it, accepting the
discomfort as natural. He’d managed to reach his physical form a few
times before and had learned that these sensations were completely
normal. While his body had been preserved and had resisted
putrefaction, the rigidity of death could not be avoided. Only when his

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soul inhabited this form could his heart start pumping blood again and
awaken his muscles.

For a few moments, Dante waited for the mental alarm that

always told him something had gone wrong. He waited for the priests
to appear in their usual efforts to keep Eli safe. None of that
happened. Instead, Dante felt the strange force settle within him. In
his heart, he sensed the warmth of Mother Earth. He could actually
hear her now, although it wasn’t in a language he understood. He did
grasp what she meant though. He realized that her power had
transmuted Eli’s love for him into a second chance. Together, they
had earned Dante’s right to live again. And just like that, Dante’s
vision cleared. For the first time in months, he took a real breath.

Instantly, he choked. There was very little air in the crystal casket,

and Dante started to grow a little dizzy again, for a whole different
reason. With a great deal of effort, he moved his hand. At once, the
priests appeared and removed the lid from the casket. As he looked at
them, Dante was struck by a second sensation. Thirst. Mother Earth,
he was so thirsty. Moaning, he tried to express his need, but the
burning desire for life essence couldn’t even let him speak.

Fortunately, his need had been anticipated. A bleeding wrist

appeared in his line of sight. Dante glanced up and saw his father
smiling down at him. “Drink your fill, son. Take your life back from
me.”

Those words meant more than Dante could process then. A part of

him wanted to reply, but his thoughts were scrambled, and the scent
of blood awoke a beast inside him. Gripping his father’s hand, he
buried his fangs in the tender flesh and simply drank.

Animalistic satisfaction exploded over him. The first few gulps

barely even registered, but slowly, Dante started to process the
delicious taste of his father’s essence. It was, naturally, very powerful,
and that strength was going to Dante’s head. Memories flashed
through his mind, images of people both foreign and familiar. But he
couldn’t focus on either of them, too intent on the taste of the liquid

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flowing into his mouth. The moment held no eroticism, but as Aran’s
blood provided what Dante’s body lacked, Dante nevertheless found
his dick hardening.

As rich and deeply satisfying as his sire’s power was, Dante

craved something else. He desired the blood of another person, one he
hadn’t had the chance to taste too much. As a ghost, he had not been
able to feast on Eli, to claim him like this. Some strange limitation
had kept him from doing so. But Dante needed it. He needed it so
badly that he found himself sucking on Aran’s wrist harder, to
compensate for what he couldn’t have.

Aran placed a hand on Dante’s shoulder and slowly freed his arm

from Dante’s grip. Distantly, Dante realized that it was probably for
the best. His father had already given him more blood than he should
have. Right now, Aran needed to be strong and alert at all times, as far
too many enemies waited in the shadows, ready to strike. Still,
Dante’s body had suffered for too long from the deprivation. Aran
had helped a lot, but Dante’s thirst had not been quenched.

As if hearing Dante’s call, Eli made his way to the crystal casket.

Following Aran’s example, he offered his own bleeding wrist. By
rights, Dante should have refused. Eli must have been truly drained
from the ritual. For that reason, he hesitated. But when he met Eli’s
eyes, he saw only decision, affection, and a dose of exasperation. “Go
ahead,” the elf said. “You need this, but so do I.”

Dante couldn’t bring himself to reject that honest offer, not when

the tantalizing scent of Eli’s blood tickled his nostrils. He gripped his
mate’s wrist with more gentleness than he had his father’s, drinking
softly and all the while holding his lover’s gaze. Several thoughts
passed through his mind as it began to clear. He felt grateful that Aran
had kept him from unleashing his savage nature on Eli. He was in awe
at the ease with which Eli accepted his nature. A part of him still
couldn’t fully process that, after months of being a ghost, he’d finally
been granted this magnificent chance, but his reason did accept it and
wondered what it would mean for Aran, for the other bloodkin. His

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heart, though…His heart was fully focused on Eli’s obvious joy and
on the excitement and anticipation of finally being able to complete
their bond, the way it was supposed to be.

This time, the memories came to him as clear as day. There were

many countless images, countless wishes burning in Eli’s heart, but
most of them rotated around Dante. The purity and intensity of Eli’s
emotions humbled Dante, soothed his body and his soul.

He was so distracted by his own thoughts and Eli’s that he didn’t

feel the danger approach until it was too late. Only when Eli tensed
did his senses become clearer. He finally registered the proximity of
several presences that hadn’t originally been in the temple, and likely
had no business being here.

Outside, a guard shouted, “Halt in the name of the…”
The rest of his words were drowned out by an inarticulate noise,

and the sounds of battle erupted outside. “Majesty,” one of the priests
said with a gasp, “you need to get out of here.”

Ignoring the man, Aran helped Dante out of the casket. “Come,

my son. You are still weak. We cannot allow them to hurt you once
again.”

“What’s going on?” Eli asked. “Who is attacking?”
“Likely, one of my brothers,” Dante mumbled. He tried to stand,

but his knees buckled, and he would have fallen if Eli and Aran
wouldn’t have supported him.

“Do not fret, children,” Aran soothed him. “I haven’t been

Imperator for decades so as to fall to a ridiculous insurrection.”

Dante wanted to believe that, but it seemed clear that whoever

was behind this had been pretty organized. In fact, he’d bet money
that they had some source of information here, in the temples. They
had waited until Dante was back in his body, as his ghostly form was
a factor that couldn’t be controlled. Someone here must have given
them the cue to strike once Dante had recovered, and the delay
between his recovery and the assault was likely caused by the time it
had taken for them to organize something coherent.

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Aran seemed to be thinking the same thing. He scanned the room

with shrewd eyes, until his gaze fell on a particular priest. “You!” he
said. “You did this.”

At first, Dante had no clue how his father had singled the man out,

but then, he saw it, an apprehension that had nothing to do with the
events outside. The priest’s eyes widened. “No, Majesty, I…”

One look from Aran silenced any lies that might have come out of

the priest’s lips. “Who is behind your ploy?” Aran asked.

“Lady Antemia,” the priest blurted out. “Please, Majesty. Have

mercy. I—”

The Imperator didn’t allow him to finish. A wave of power swept

over the room, sending the man to his knees, powerless and unable to
move. Normally, a traitor might have been interrogated further, but
any information the priest could provide would be useless in a couple
of minutes. The rest of the conspirators would undoubtedly burst into
the temple, and then it would all come to light. As such, Dante
expected his father to simply slit the traitor’s throat. Instead, Aran
said, “I will give you one chance. Go out there and stop this. Tell
them I will hand myself in. I don’t want any more blood spilled this
day. However, Dante and his mate will not be touched.”

The priest gaped, having obviously known his chances to survive

were very slim. Dante couldn’t focus on him, though. His sire’s words
still rang out in his ears, horrible and damning. “You have a plan,
right?” he whispered. “You won’t just let them…”

“Of course I have a plan.” Aran grinned and kissed Dante’s

forehead. “Antemia doesn’t know half the things I can do. She is a
fool if she thinks she can earn the throne for her son like this.”

Many years ago, Antemia had been Aran’s concubine, the first

one of many. After she’d given birth to Gideon, Aran had granted her
great wealth, very pleased with his new son. Nevertheless, as time
passed, it became clear that she was not a good mother to Gideon.
Aran had ended up replacing her with Valerian’s mother, although he
had never taken back his presents to her.

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But it seemed obvious to Dante that, no matter how much

Antemia aimed to become reigning queen, she wouldn’t have
attempted such a thing without Gideon’s cooperation or at least his
knowledge. Sadly, Dante couldn’t say this was particularly surprising,
but it unsettled him that his father seemed to disregard Gideon’s
involvement. Aran wasn’t telling him something, something very
important. But his father still had many secrets, things he had kept
from Dante, as well as from Gideon and Valerian. Dante only hoped
that one of those secrets could help them break free of this
predicament.

“Go,” Aran told the treacherous priest. “Tell them. Explain my

terms and return to me with their agreement.”

The man got up and scuttled toward the exit like a bug. The other

priests allowed him to pass, unlocking the doors. As he slipped
outside, the rest of the clerics quickly blocked the entrance again.
Instantly, Aran’s demeanor changed. “Quickly now, son. Follow the
priests. There is a passageway in the temples that will lead you
outside and to safety.”

“But what about you?” Eli asked.
Aran smirked, showing his sharp fangs. “Don’t worry about me. I

always have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

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Chapter Six

The attack had taken Eli by surprise. A part of him had truly

hoped that Dante’s brothers had remained open to his offer of
cooperation. Apparently, that had been too much to ask for.

Eli was honestly worried. Aran seemed to believe that he could

handle this, but how was that possible? How could Aran remain this
optimistic when a large group of enemies advanced upon them? Why?

Because yes, it seemed obvious to Eli that Aran’s allies were

painfully outnumbered. He’d only caught a brief glimpse of what was
outside, but that had been more than enough. Surely, Aran didn’t
intend to just give himself up and die for a cause. The Imperator
didn’t strike him as that kind of man.

But no matter how concerned he might have been for the man

who was, essentially, his father-in-law, Dante remained his priority.
And Dante was very weak still. He couldn’t afford to be caught in
another battle. Eli was fairly certain that if something happened this
time around, there would be no more second chances.

Predictably, though, Dante didn’t seem inclined toward leaving

his father. “No, Father,” he said, shaking his head stubbornly. “We
will not abandon you.”

“Consider it an order then.” Aran narrowed his eyes at Dante.

“Go. We don’t have time to argue. You’re a liability to me here.”

The words were harsh, but Dante didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed

to understand what Aran meant. To a certain extent, Eli grasped
Aran’s meaning as well. This would be a battle, one that Dante most
likely couldn’t handle.

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With that thought in mind, Eli squeezed his mate’s hand. “He’s

right, Dante. If we stay, we’ll just hinder him. He means well.”

Dante still looked torn, but Aran wouldn’t accept any other

protests. He physically pushed Dante and Eli in the direction of what
seemed to be a plain wall. “Go. I promise I’ll join you.”

“All right,” Dante said finally. “Just take care of yourself.”
The high priest pressed a concealed button, and the stone parted,

revealing a hidden passage. Eli wasn’t surprised since he’d been
through one of these corridors before. However, he couldn’t help but
wonder if it was truly safe. After all, Dante’s brothers were bound to
know about it.

He was likely not the only one who realized this simple fact, but

nevertheless, none of those present hesitated. It seemed they trusted
Aran to have anticipated these circumstances and taken the necessary
precautions. The high priest in particular looked a little calmer, and
Eli suspected the man might have been aware of the possibility of an
attack, perhaps informed by Aran himself.

The thought encouraged him, and as the priests entered the

passageway, he followed, half dragging Dante along. His mate wasn’t
very cooperative and kept looking back, which could turn out to be
very dangerous. These hidden corridors were booby-trapped, and one
bad step could kill them all. Aran stopped Dante’s behavior by
closing the passage. At that, Dante seemed to brace himself and
focused on the road ahead. Eli could only guess how hard it must
have been for his mate to leave his father at the mercy of the traitors,
all alone. Even to him, it seemed wrong somehow.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “I think he guessed this

would happen.”

“Probably,” Dante answered. “But I worry that he underestimated

my brothers. I trust him, Eli, but I wish there was something I could
do to help.”

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From ahead of them, the high priest replied, “You can. Above all,

the Imperator needs you to survive. He can handle your brothers as
long as he knows you are safe.”

There was nothing more that could be said to that. Eli understood

what Dante was going through, but the priests didn’t. In the end, as
much as Eli hated to admit it, the cleric had a point. Dante had to
survive. While under normal circumstances, he’d have undoubtedly
been an asset to his father in battle. Today, he definitely couldn’t
fight.

Eli didn’t know how long they walked through the passageway.

At times, Eli thought he could hear voices behind them, but his
imagination might have been playing tricks on him. The torturous trek
seemed to go on forever, and Eli half expected that any moment now,
their foes would find them and kill them.

No such thing happened. In fact, just as Eli was beginning to lose

hope, the high priest opened a hidden door and stepped outside. At
first, Eli couldn’t tell where the corridor had taken them, but as soon
as he left the passageway, he figured it out. It was honestly very easy
to tell. The Tachakan dome shone overhead, and the sounds of the
city surrounded them from all directions. They had ended up in a
Tachakan alley, somewhere behind the bazaar, if Eli had to hazard a
guess. Ironically, it was quite close to the inn where Dante and Eli had
stayed when they’d returned to the bloodkin capital.

As far as Eli could tell, the citizens didn’t realize that something

was happening at the palace, which was, to a certain extent, good
news. Or so Eli hoped. He had loathed Aran for ending Dante’s life,
but now, he’d come to respect the Imperator, and even care about him
a little. He prayed that Aran would manage to control the situation,
although he doubted such a thing was possible.

“This way,” the high priest said, ushering them in the direction of

the Tachakan outskirts. “We need to get you as far away from the
passage as possible.”

“Are we leaving the city?” Dante inquired.

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109

“I do not know,” the cleric replied. “I was instructed that, in case

something happened, I was to take you to a specific location. From
that point on, I’m not sure what will happen.”

That actually sounded a lot like something Aran would do,

secretive, shrewd, yet preemptive. The rest of the priests seemed quite
confused, which confirmed Eli’s original guess that only their leader
had been informed of the potentially dangerous situation. Even so, no
one asked any more questions, and they followed in silence after the
high priest.

On instinct, Eli placed a glamour on himself and Dante, but

instants later, he realized the group of clerics now flanked them and
were masking their presence as well. More importantly, Dante
appeared to be recovering more and more with every second that
passed. This pleased Eli greatly, but it also concerned him, because it
meant that any moment now, Dante would demand to return to the
palace.

“We shouldn’t have left him,” Dante murmured, right on cue.

“They’ll kill him.”

“Dante, stay calm,” Eli replied. “We’ll go back for him. Have

faith. Let’s see what precautions he took first. It might help.”

Fortunately, his mate agreed. They advanced through the busy

city, mostly using smaller alleys and always keeping a strong glamour
on. At last, the high priest stopped in front of a particular building.
“Here,” the man said, gesturing them inside.

Eli eyed the structure with equal amounts of curiosity and

suspicion. Around them on the street, there were all sorts of shops
advertising various services, from haberdashery to pleasures of the
flesh. This particular establishment offered antiquities, all sorts of
peculiar items and other such eccentric miscellanea. Other than that,
there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. But when they
finally entered the building, Eli did notice something that made him
feel a little better. On the wall in front of him lay the symbol of

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Mother Earth. For some reason, that made him feel protected, safer,
and more assured that he might find something here that could help.

The main room of the shop held no patrons or customers, and the

shopkeeper was missing as well. “Hello?” Eli called out. “Is anyone
here?”

After a few moments, a voice responded, “Yes, yes. I’ll be right

there. You young people. So impatient.”

Eli heard some noises in the back room and surmised the owner of

the store would come to assist them. As he waited though, his gaze
fell on the symbol of Mother Earth again. There was something else
there, something he hadn’t originally noticed. Peering closer, Eli
distinguished another, more discreet drawing. It was a representation
of the Sky Lord, the deity other races such as the humans and the
avians worshiped.

He didn’t have time to figure out what that meant, because an old

man entered the room, gazing of them with shrewd eyes. “Oh, it’s
you.”

“I take it you were expecting us,” Dante answered without

missing a beat.

The man chortled. “You could say that. Come, come. We don’t

have a lot of time.”

Eli and Dante followed as the old stranger headed back the way

he’d come. The priests attempted to come with them, but their
peculiar host threw them an ugly look over his shoulder. “The rest of
you must stay here.”

It was all very puzzling, but Eli held his tongue and asked no

questions. His mind was still on the symbol of the Sky Lord painted
on the wall, hidden from sight. What did it mean, and why had the
Imperator sent them to a person who worshiped another deity? Not
that the difference in religions mattered. It just seemed odd to Eli,
given Aran’s clear dedication to Mother Earth.

With all those unanswerable questions swirling through his mind,

Eli was still shocked when, in the back room of the shop, he found the

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strange avian from his vision. He sat carefully on an old couch,
looking so young and out of place it was mind numbing. “You,” Eli
gasped out unintelligently. “You’re the one who helped us before.”

The avian smiled slightly. “Yes. I trust that my assistance was

helpful for you and our common friends.”

“You know it was,” Dante pointed out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t

be here now.”

Their new companion released a small laugh. It sounded like

bells, and oddly, memories of Manturanael flashed through Eli’s
mind. Shaking himself, Eli focused on what the avian was saying
now. “Indeed.” The young man moved his wings slightly, and the
sound they made startled Eli. For the first time, Eli realized that the
avian’s appendages didn’t have real feathers. Instead, they seemed to
be formed out of mirrors.

They were beautiful, but in Eli’s opinion, quite unpractical. After

all, how could someone fly with such frail feathers? Perhaps there
was magic involved, because otherwise, Eli couldn’t explain it.

“They’re strange, aren’t they?” the avian asked Eli. Eli was

horrified upon understanding he had been staring at the wings.

“No,” he hastily replied. “I mean, they’re lovely.”
This time, the young man’s smile was sad. “My blessing and my

curse. But never mind that. Let me introduce myself. My name is
Shurien. You will pardon me for not greeting you more properly, but
alas, my condition makes it hard for me to have real contact with
anyone.”

“So they break?” Dante asked hesitantly.
Shurien nodded. “Sadly, yes. I have to be very careful, lest I lose

my gift.”

Eli wondered how the avian had managed to enter Tachaka in the

first place. His problem clearly eliminated the possibility of stealth.
But if the Imperator had sent him and Dante here, it meant that there
had been a cooperation of sorts between Shurien and Aran. Eli

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honestly had no clue how that had come about, but he had no doubt
that Aran was more than capable of pulling something like that off.

“So why did you risk coming here then?” Eli asked.
“It was the Imperator’s request that I come to grant you

assistance,” Shurien answered. “You might not be aware of this, but
the avians once reached an agreement with the bloodkin.”

“I know about the truce between our species,” Dante offered. “It

was a long time ago, shortly after the fall of the first dome.”

Shurien nodded. “Indeed. Unfortunately, at that time, there were a

great deal of avian rebels who hated the thought of such cooperation.
A particularly aggressive group was behind the murder of Ferdinand
and Abigail Bloodmoor, which eventually led to their son, Cole
Bloodmoor’s exile. This is why I opened my home to him and his
mate when they needed the help.”

“But the avians are the bloodkin’s enemies now,” Dante said.

“The truce didn’t hold.”

“My people were misguided,” Shurien replied. “The rebels

continued to attack, until your father dissolved our tentative
agreement. Shortly after that, I was born, but by the time I became
Seer, it was too late to mend what the hostility and the hatred had
broken.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Eli asked. “To make amends? To fix

the truce?”

“I’m here to give you a choice,” the avian answered. “The

agreement between the Imperator and I is part of it, but not the whole
story. Now, come closer and see.”

Eli wanted to know and hear more, to understand this peculiar

development. He had a feeling Shurien could provide those answers.
Together with his mate, he approached Shurien.

Under Eli’s astonished gaze, the odd feathers began to shine,

flaring around Shurien’s body. Distinct images started to form in
those mirrors, hovering in front of them, dancing like ghostly
silhouettes. Eli instantly recognized Aran, standing alone in the room

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they’d just left. The picture changed, showing the Imperator trapped
in a jail cell. Valerian seemed to be trying to get him out, furtively
inserting a key in the lock.

Relief swamped Eli at the realization that they had some sort of

ally in the palace. It was short-lived, however, as another picture
floated within their view, one of Aran lying on the floor, unconscious
and apparently dying.

“Is this some sort of game?” Dante asked, his voice trembling

with rage and agony. “What are you trying to tell us?”

“I am sharing my gift with you, like I did once before with your

friends,” Shurien explained calmly. “From this point on, there are
various possible futures for you and for the Imperator. I will not lie. It
is, of course, in my interest for your father to survive, so in that
respect, I believe we share a common goal.”

“If this is the future, what can I possibly do to help?” Dante

inquired. He freed himself from Eli’s grip, straightening his back and
glowering at Shurien. “Do you mean to taunt me with my own
helplessness?”

“There is no such thing as a definite future,” Shurien replied,

“only a number of possible ones, all affected by choices of
individuals. I try to guide my people in the right direction, and I want
to do the same thing for you. But in the end, it has to be your
decision.”

“And what other choice do we have?” Eli scowled at the avian.

“We have to help Aran. It’s not like we can just let him die.”

“I’ll just ask you outright,” Dante said. “What must I do to keep

my father and my mate safe? And please don’t give me any cryptic
replies. I want to know the truth.”

“No, what you want is for me to tell you to go back,” Shurien

said. “You’re burning with guilt and the desire to wash it away. But if
you do that, if you rush into things now, then your fate, and that of
your father, will change.”

“Change?” Dante repeated. “In what way?”

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Shurien smiled mysteriously. “In many ways, more than even

your father imagines. Again, I will be honest. You walk a risky path,
and anything can go wrong.”

Dante groaned. “Let me guess. Your advice is to have faith.”
“Yes and no. Faith can only get you so far. In the end, we make

our own destinies. And if we’re lucky, we have help.”

Suddenly, Eli felt a few familiar presences behind him. As he

turned, he gasped in delight and shock. “Hello, Eli,” Kier said softly.
“It’s nice to see you again.”

They were all here, Kier, the two Bloodmoor brothers, and even

the human, Marlais Hayden. “Why?” Eli couldn’t help but ask.

“Come now, Eli,” Vane said. “You and Dante helped us. Did you

really think we’d abandon you in your time of need?”

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “Apparently,” he drawled,

answering in Eli’s stead. “But don’t flatter yourself. We just want to
make sure the Imperator is safe. We were, after all, promised Kin
Lord positions.”

Kier shook his head, obviously accustomed to his mate’s antics.

He didn’t comment on Cole’s words, having apparently expected the
lingering tension. Instead, he reached for an item that had been
strapped to his back and handed it to Eli. “Here. I made this for you
since I figured you might have left yours in Manturanael.”

Automatically, Eli took Kier’s gift. It was a bow, crafted in a

traditionally elven style. Of course, it wasn’t as ornate or richly
adorned as Eli’s previous one which had been handed to Eli by his
father, Sorr. That particular weapon had been taken from him when
he’d been exiled. For that reason, and many others, this gift meant a
lot to Eli. As he caressed the curve of the bow, he smiled at his friend.
“Thank you, Kier. It’s beautiful.”

Dante’s hand landed on Eli’s shoulder, just as Cole’s arm wrapped

around Kier’s waist, pulling the night elf closer and away from Eli.
Eli couldn’t help it. He met his friend’s gaze and burst into laughter.
“It seems, my friend, that we’re both in quite a predicament.”

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115

Kier grinned back and leaned into Cole’s embrace. “But we

wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As if to follow his brother’s example, Vane hugged Marlais as

well. The human grinned slightly, then said, “Well now that our
respective mates have finished showing off their possessiveness, how
do we do this thing?”

Shurien smiled slightly. “In that regard, my friends, I can help

you.”

* * * *

In the temple room, Aran waited as the sounds of battle outside

finally grew dimmer. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy for the
treacherous priest to control the crowd outside. In fact, there were
good chances that the man wouldn’t manage at all and would die
trying. He had honestly considered tearing the guy apart, but he had
decided against it, half because he didn’t want to shed blood in
Mother Earth’s temple, especially after She had given back his son.
He’d also been reluctant to kill like that in front of Eli and Dante.

However, he was a firm believer in using even the most

unfortunate of circumstances, and he knew his people well. As such,
he’d taken advantage of the man’s presence to stall for a little while
so that he could give his son time to escape.

He had anticipated this. Thomson had warned him something was

brewing, although not even the astute wraith had managed to figure
out exactly who was behind it. Antemia had been very careful, but
that didn’t surprise him since her son had always been an excellent
tactician.

It was sad, and a little ironic that the story had to repeat itself. Of

course, Aran had no intentions to get killed like his father had been,
but the basics of the two situations were the same. But what his son
didn’t know was that Aran had made preparations for this. In the past
weeks, he’d been actively working on adding a provision to the

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bloodkin law of primogeniture. If he died, Dante would be the next
Imperator, and all of Gideon’s efforts would be for naught.

Bored, Aran went to the platform that still held the now-open

crystal casket. He swept his hand over the smooth surface, smiling. In
spite of what was happening outside, he felt at peace. The guilt that
wouldn’t let him breathe was finally starting to let up. He would never
fully forgive himself for what he’d done to Dante, but now that his
son was back, he could safely say that Mother Earth had, at the very
least, granted him her pardon.

At last, the doors burst open, and Antemia stalked inside, followed

by a group of soldiers and the cowering priest. As he stole a look
outside, Aran noticed that most of his guards were out for the count,
but not dead. Satisfactory. The priest had reached Antemia before too
much damage had been done.

Keeping his face blank, Aran glanced at his foe. Antemia had

always been a very gorgeous woman, and that hadn’t changed in the
slightest with the passage of time. She still boasted the same stern,
classic beauty that had drawn Aran to her in the first place. In a way,
she was the epitome of the bloodkin female, which in those times,
Aran had seen as a quality. He wished now he’d handled the situation
with more care since, as it turned out, mothers had quite an influence
on their children. Who knew?

“Hello, my dear,” he said pleasantly. “I haven’t seen you in quite

a while. What brings you here?”

Antemia’s elegant brow twitched. “Come now, Imperator. Let’s

not play these games. We know each other too well for that.”

Aran laughed. “Oh, but I do remember playing a lot of games with

you. Have you forgotten?”

“Not at all,” she answered without missing a beat. “Sadly, those

times are long gone now, and you have other playmates.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Aran smirked. It was probably not

a good idea to antagonize her, but he couldn’t help it. Besides,
holding onto the conversation would give Dante a little more time to

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117

get further away from the palace and keep Antemia’s attention on
Aran. “I always knew you loved me.”

For a few moments, Antemia’s eyes flashed with rage, the pure

hatred of a scorned bloodkin woman. It was gone in instants. “I
thought you said you’d come quietly. Surrender to the inevitable.
There’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

Aran groaned. “Must you be an absolute cliché? At the very least,

come up with something more original to say. And I’ve kept my
word. I’m not fighting you in any way.”

As he spoke, the soldiers with Antemia started surrounding Aran.

If he’d wanted to, he could have killed a fair number of them, but he
held back, waiting to see what she would do.

Antemia tilted her head inquiringly. “Is your offspring truly so

important to you that you’d sacrifice your life and throne?” When
Aran didn’t grace that question with an answer, she sneered.
“Pathetic. You don’t deserve to be called Imperator.”

“Perhaps.” Aran smiled. “But your son has a lot of work to do

before he can even try to take my place.”

Something shifted in her manner, a strange emotion briefly

crossing her face. No one else would have noticed it, but Aran knew
Antemia well. He saw a dose of apprehension and…satisfaction?

Making a mental note of that reaction, Aran sarcastically inquired,

“So what’s the plan now, my dear? Do you mean to murder me? You
might be disappointed if you try.”

“Disappointed,” she repeated in disbelief. “And why would that

be?” Her eyes widened as realization dawned. “Oh, Mother Earth.
What did you do?”

Aran burst into laughter. “Why don’t you look into it, my dear,

and get back to me? Perhaps we can repeat this process once we’re
more prepared.”

This time, Antemia didn’t even try to hide her anger. “We’ll see

about that, Aran. What are you doing, you fools? Take him to the
prisons.”

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Even as the guards led him out of the room, Aran was still

chuckling. In truth, he could have fought them back and escaped.
They couldn’t have resisted his magic. However, he’d set into motion
some events that couldn’t be stopped. For the moment, he knew that
by now, his son should be safe. The passageway they’d used was
known only to the Imperator and the high priest, and Antemia
couldn’t possibly find it, not without forcing the knowledge out of
Aran. Given that she’d sent him to the dungeons, she didn’t seem to
realize any of that.

Oh, yes, this was going exactly as he had planned. With some

luck, he’d weed out the traitors in his home and start anew. It might
be painful and risky, but Aran could do it. He would do it, for
everyone who had shown loyalty to him. There was too much at stake
for him to hesitate.

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Chapter Seven

Aran sat on the hard floor, looking at the ceiling without really

seeing it. He had to admit he felt a little irritated. He hadn’t expected
his plan to go quickly, but he wasn’t used to inactivity. It annoyed
him, like a niggling fly that simply wouldn’t go away.

Of course, the fact that no one had come to see him could be

considered a good thing. It meant that his foes hadn’t found out about
his plan to enlist the avians to his assistance in exchange for a truce.
Likely, they were still trying to figure out how to go around the legal
provisions Aran had made. He snickered under his breath. There was
no way they could change it. He’d been studying the old laws for
years. Yes, his original intention had been an entirely different one,
but the knowledge served him well now.

Either way, he expected Thomson to keep an eye on things and

bail him out if push came to shove. So far, the wraith had managed to
come to him once, confirming that Dante had, indeed, escaped, and
that Antemia had taken over the palace. At that time, news of the coup
had not leaked to the population, although Thomson had noted the
conspicuous silence on the part of both princes.

Aran wondered how much longer they were going to keep him

here. A good couple of hours must have passed since his capture. Did
they plan to bore him to death or what? Well, if he wanted to be
honest, his extended stay in this place did present a slight
inconvenience. Normally, Aran could live for weeks without feeding,
but he’d given a large quantity of blood to his son, so he was hungry.
Unfortunately, as a wraith, Thomson couldn’t provide the much-

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needed blood, and so, Aran had no choice but to rely on his own inner
strength to circumvent this inconvenience.

Probably, his foes were aware of his need. The treacherous priest

had been there when Dante had drunk Aran’s blood. Nevertheless,
Aran wouldn’t let a little thing like that get to him. He had too much
willpower for that. Distantly, he asked himself when that blasted
whore would realize it and send someone to interrogate him.

As if in response to his mental dilemma, the sound of an open

door rang out somewhere outside. Aran frowned as he heard silent,
rushed footsteps approach. He recognized them, and he had to admit
that the identity of his visitor surprised him. Under such
circumstances, Aran didn’t like to be surprised.

A few moments passed, and then his middle son appeared at the

door. He carried the keys to the cell and threw a harried look toward
Aran. “Hurry, Father. We must get you out of here before they hurt
you.”

Aran got up and brushed his once elegant outfit of dust. “What are

you doing here, Valerian?” he asked with a frown. “It’s far too risky
for you. How did you even bypass the guards?”

Valerian smiled slightly. “I’m more resourceful than you think,

Father. But I can only do so much.” He inserted the key in the lock,
and the door opened noiselessly. “Follow me. I can get you out.”

Aran examined his son’s face, suppressing a scowl. He was no

fool, and he didn’t believe in random shows of affection or loyalty.
He had seen through it when Dante had attempted to kill him—an
unfortunate event which had nevertheless reminded him of his
priorities and goals. With Valerian, though, this offer for help
instantly triggered a realization.

Deciding to pretend for now, Aran nodded. “Have you heard from

your brother?” he asked as he followed Valerian out of the cell.

Valerian shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to Gideon since the

day before yesterday. I believe he must be planning something with
Antemia, but I don’t know what.”

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121

At that, Aran grabbed Valerian’s arm and pulled him back into the

cell. “Do you think I am a fool, child?” he asked. “Do you think me
so weak so as not to see your deception because you are my son?
What did Antemia say to you? What made you think that you could
get away with this?”

Valerian paled visibly. “F–Father, no,” he stammered. “I would

never do such a thing. I would never go against you. You must
believe me.”

“I mustn’t do anything,” Aran shot back. “I am the Imperator. I

decide what I can and cannot do.”

His power flowed through him, and he sent Valerian flying to the

other side of the room. Valerian hit the wall with a grunt, and Aran
made his way toward him. He lifted his son in the air, squeezing the
younger bloodkin’s windpipe as anger burned through him. He was so
tired of being lied to, so tired of deception. He and Dante finally
understood each other in that regard. Why couldn’t his other sons do
the same? And how in the world had Valerian gotten involved with
Antemia?

In truth, it wasn’t hard to figure out what scheme Valerian had

come up with. Due to Antemia’s connection with Gideon, any action
she took would automatically reflect upon her son. If Antemia killed
Aran, according to the old laws, the throne would have gone to
Valerian, as Gideon would have been blamed as well. So perhaps it
hadn’t been Antemia who had planned the whole thing. In the end,
she was the face of the plot, the person who would undoubtedly suffer
the consequences of killing an Imperator. Valerian, on the other hand,
would reap all the benefits without having to lift a finger. Aran
actually felt proud of him.

“You know what, ignore that last question,” he said. “I think I’d

better ask how you managed to convince her to go through with such
a foolish ploy.”

Still, Valerian wouldn’t relent. “I told you, Father. It’s not me. I

only intended to help.”

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Aran would have very much liked to believe him, but over

seventy years as an Imperator had taught him lessons he would never
forget.

“I see,” he replied blandly. Even as he spoke, he buried his claws

in his son’s flesh. “I suppose you must think you’re very clever. After
all, who would doubt you?”

Valerian started to make choking noises, but Aran was too far

gone at this point to care. The scent of Valerian’s blood beckoned him
closer, urging him to take what he needed. The answers and the power
were right there, within his reach. Why shouldn’t he take it?

Surrendering to the impulse, Aran buried his fangs in Valerian’s

throat. It was forbidden for any person to drink the blood of a member
of the imperial family, but he was Imperator. He could do whatever
he wanted to. None of them, not even Antemia or his older sons,
could argue against that. As long as he still had breath in his body,
they were traitors to Tachaka and its people.

He realized his mistake moments after Valerian’s blood hit his

tongue. Almost instantly, he smelled the poison, and he recoiled,
tearing his mouth away from his son’s neck. But it was already too
late. A few of Valerian’s memories flashed through his mind’s eye.
He found the answers to all his questions, and he knew that this time
around, he’d been outsmarted. It seemed that Valerian was more alike
to Aran than he himself had originally thought. Somehow, Valerian
had seduced Antemia into helping him. It was definitely an
interesting, if unexpected, strategy, one that might very well lead to
Aran’s death.

Clutching his bleeding neck, Valerian staggered back. Aran met

his son’s eyes and lifted his arm, ready to slit Valerian’s throat. He
never got the chance because the poison was already rushing through
him. A strange lassitude flowed over him, and his knees buckled. He
might have been able to steady himself, but Valerian’s magic struck
him. For the first time in years, Aran’s power failed him, and he fell
to the floor.

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123

At this show of weakness, Valerian burst into laughter. “Antemia

was right. You are pathetic. You think so highly of yourself that you
couldn’t detect the most basic of plans.”

Aran knew what his son meant. This was exactly what Dante had

tried once. At that time, Aran had managed to scent the poison. Blood
Freedom was a potion concocted by the elves against the bloodkin.
Any of Aran’s kind who drank the blood of someone who had
ingested the poison would be killed.

Even so, Aran refused to abandon the fight, and his dignity, so

easily. “And how did you intend to avoid the inquisitors’
investigation?” Aran inquired. “They will be able to read your
treachery in your blood.”

His son shrugged. “Inquisitors are people as well. Everyone has

their price, Father. I managed to convince a priest to join my cause. I
can do so with your famous inquisitors.”

To a certain extent, Valerian was correct. The inquisitors were no

longer the incorruptible force that had helped Aran rebuild the nation.
However, even if all outside factors were eliminated, Valerian’s plan
held significant holes.

The fact that Valerian had been willing to chance taking the

poison himself spoke volumes of the younger bloodkin’s
determination. True enough, logic stated that the substance had to
enter the blood stream directly for it to have an effect on the carrier.
This meant that one of Aran’s people could drink it if he or she did so
the human way. Still, the very point of Blood Freedom was that, if a
bloodkin fed from the carrier of the poison, the substance would rush
through the veins of the latter in order to reach its target. Surely
Valerian knew that. Surely he must realize that in his quest to get rid
of Aran, he’d sealed his own fate.

“You are a fool, Valerian,” he said, frustrated with the weak

sound of his own voice. “You don’t realize what you’ve done. I might
die because of this, but so will you.”

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“You’re wrong. We modified the poison. It’s…” Valerian trailed

off, his grin vanishing. He leaned against the wall and slid onto the
floor. “What’s going on?”

“I told you already,” Aran pointed out. “There’s no way to avoid

that particular effect of the poison. It was created to work like this,
and no matter how hard you try, you can’t change it.”

If Aran ventured a guess, he’d bet money that the modifications

his son had implemented slowed down the effect of the poison.
Normally, Blood Freedom worked much faster. By now, Aran should
have been at least unconscious.

Taking a deep breath, Aran gathered his remaining strength. He

refused to die like this. There had to be a way for him to save himself,
and perhaps Valerian. Valerian might deserve this fate, but in his
heart, Aran still loved his son.

He wished now he had been a better parent. If he’d gotten more

involved in the lives of his children, this could have been avoided.
But it was too late for regrets. The time for action had come.

In spite of the weakness flooding his body, Aran struggled to his

feet. In Valerian’s memories, he had seen both sides of his son’s plan.
If Aran hadn’t figured out Valerian’s deception, his son would have
taken him out of the cell, then argued that Aran had been trying to
escape in order to kill him. As such, there were guards waiting to
intercept Aran. If he could reach them, he might have a chance to at
least help his son.

From a rational point of view, he would be better off allowing

Valerian to die. Then, in case Aran didn’t survive, Dante would
become Imperator with little resistance. But Aran had committed
enough mistakes in raising his children. He didn’t want them to pay
for it. Valerian deserved the same chance Aran had given Dante.

With that thought in mind, Aran dragged himself into the corridor.

Following his son’s memories, he headed in the direction where the
soldiers would be waiting. His vision was growing dim already, but
he sustained his body through sheer willpower. He heard voices up

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125

ahead and opened his mouth to explain what had happened. His vocal
chords simply refused to work. He saw the guards rushing toward
him, with Antemia leading them.

They had their weapons drawn, and Aran decided that since he

couldn’t speak to them, he had to show them. It might be a good thing
that Antemia herself had decided to join the show. Perhaps she could
find a way to save her lover.

Aran backed away, heading toward the cell once again. As he

entered it, he saw that Valerian had fallen still and unconscious, now
barely breathing. The jagged wound at his neck looked almost
obscene against his pale flesh.

Dazed and feeling weaker than ever, Aran knelt next to his son,

intending to help him somehow. Some part of him grasped that he
didn’t have the means for it, but he was running on instinct and he
couldn’t help himself. However, as he reached for Valerian, his
pursuers burst into the cell. Antemia released a gasp when she saw
him. “Mother Earth, he’s gone insane. Take him out.”

Aran just stared at the group as the guards pointed their weapons

at him, their magic creating a ball of tension inside the cell. At this
point, he couldn’t say anything or move a muscle, the poison
incapacitating his body’s every function. Some of the men seemed to
show some hesitance in attacking him, but sadly, that couldn’t help
him now.

Finally, the lingering remnants of his strength dissipated and he

collapsed in a heap onto the floor. The soldiers looked taken aback.
Some of them must have known about the poison, but those who
didn’t seemed genuinely shocked. Either way, no one appeared to be
particularly inclined to act as the killer of the Imperator.

Finally, it was Antemia who grabbed a spear from one of the

soldiers and directed the sharp tip at Aran. He could barely see her
now, his vision fuzzy and dim. Even so, he did acknowledge the fact
that he was likely moments away from being murdered.

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But then, something happened that Aran hadn’t expected.

Antemia released a garbled cry and dropped the spear. She turned to
look out into the corridor once again, and as she did so, Aran saw an
arrow embedded in her neck.

Pride and frustration warred within Aran. He supposed it had been

too much to expect Dante to stay away from the palace. He worried
about his son, but he trusted that Mother Earth would take care of
Dante. More importantly, with this knowledge came another one.
Dante would make an amazing Imperator. That realization gave Aran
peace, and he succumbed to the darkness with a final prayer for all of
his sons.

* * * *

A long time ago, the elves had perfected the art of stealth and

defense. Their home island of Manturanael was inaccessible to
anyone outside their species. Taking this into account, one would
have thought that elves would have stopped focusing on military
education, but that was not the case. From a very early age, elven
youths were taught how to wield weapons, more specifically, but not
exclusively, bows.

Eli was no exception to this rule. In fact, he’d always been very

skilled at archery, and also at other techniques that complimented
marksmanship. Therefore, when the time came for him to participate
in the attack, he was completely in his element.

In a few seconds, his eyes took in the clear picture of what was

going on. The Imperator and his middle son were lying unconscious
on the floor. A woman Eli didn’t recognize threatened Aran with a
spear. Eli acted without even thinking about it. As he shot, the bow
felt like an extension of him, and as always, his arrow hit true.

The woman screeched like a banshee and dropped the weapon,

turning toward him. “Well, at least we distracted her,” Eli said with a
grin.

Blood, Flesh, and Spirit

127

“Get ready,” Vane warned them. “This won’t be easy. Aran never

did have a taste for weak lovers.”

So the woman was Aran’s ex. Damn, being a bloodkin was

complicated. Eli had many times resented the limitations placed upon
him by his ancestry, but compared to what he’d seen here, his family
life had been perfect.

“She’s not your mother, is she?” he whispered to Dante.
“Err…No,” Dante answered. “Gideon’s. Her name is Antemia.”
Behind them, their new avian companion, a man named Roshan,

cleared his throat. “While this is all very fascinating, I do believe
we’re not here to discuss family trees.”

Roshan was a member of the Seer Guard, especially trained avians

who protected Shurien at all times. He also happened to be Shurien’s
father, although from what Eli could tell, the two didn’t have a real
relationship. In fact, Eli had actually heard Roshan call Shurien Seer,
and he didn’t think that the older avian did that only when they were
in public.

But that was none of Eli’s business. His concern lay with getting

himself, his friends, and his lover out of this situation, while still
managing to rescue Aran. It wouldn’t be easy, given that they’d only
snuck a limited force inside the palace. As it turned out, Shurien had
come accompanied by a good number of avians, something which the
Imperator had, apparently, condoned. Since they couldn’t exactly take
an army into the imperial residence, two task forces had been created.
Eli, Dante, Vane, and Roshan formed the first one, while Cole, Kier,
the high priest, and two other avians made up the second. Marlais had
agreed to stay with Shurien since neither of them were a match for
bloodkin in a physical battle. So far, the operation had gone well, and
splitting into two groups allowed them to sweep through the dungeons
of the palace without wasting time.

This proved to be a good decision since it certainly looked like the

Imperator was in trouble. Fortunately, Eli’s attack drew Antemia’s
attention away from Aran, but Eli could still see the Imperator a little.

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He suspected that Aran had already been severely injured and needed
urgent medical attention.

Antemia wasn’t about to be defeated so easily, though. She tore

out the arrow using her mental abilities, a remarkable feat indeed
given that the projectile should have at least incapacitated her. She
was clearly having trouble speaking, but somehow, she managed to
utter one word, “Attack!”

Eli’s presence, as well as Roshan’s, seemed to anger the bloodkin

guards, and they lunged forward. Eli wasn’t intimidated in the
slightest. He retrieved more arrows and aimed at the approaching
foes. He managed to anticipate even the way some of the soldiers
dodged, and each arrow struck its target.

Of course, the guards were far too resilient for one arrow to take

them down. As the group approached, Eli’s companions attacked as
well. Now that he’d recovered his flesh-and-bone form, Dante had his
magic back. With Vane’s assistance, he intercepted the bloodkin who
would have assaulted Eli and Shoran using telekinesis. The avian
seemed well versed in handling such battles, and he leapt to assist the
two. Naturally, Eli didn’t delay in following their example and
attacked as well.

The bloodkin guards were well trained, but Eli and his

companions held more power. Eli’s real concern lay in that they were
taking too long in reaching Aran. Something told him that time was
quickly running out for the Imperator.

He didn’t know how much they’d have been delayed had a

familiar voice not suddenly shouted, “Stop!” Eli instantly recognized
it, and it shocked him so much that he leapt back, narrowly avoiding
an attack from a bloodkin soldier. With the corner of his eye, he
caught sight of Dante immobilizing one of his opponents before
jumping next to Eli.

“Stop,” Thomson repeated, stepping between Dante and the

remaining foes. “You don’t want to harm the next Imperator.”

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129

“My son is the heir to the throne,” Antemia managed to say. The

injury from Eli’s arrow made her voice sound husky, but the message
came out loud and clear.

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Thomson shot back. “According

to the new law, Prince Dante is the Imperator’s chosen.”

“The Imperator isn’t supposed to elect his own heir,” one of the

soldiers dared to say.

“No, he isn’t,” Thomson shot back. “Prince Gideon was supposed

to be the next Imperator, but what with Antemia’s involvement in this
ploy, he would be automatically suspected of murdering his father. If
you’re relying on a reward from Valerian, however, you’ll be
disappointed to learn that Imperator Aran modified the law.”

“Lies!” Antemia gurgled out.
“Do you want to risk it?” Thomson asked, glaring.
The soldiers hesitated, which made Dante act. “Look, I don’t care

about the throne,” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “All I want is to
save my father. Now, will you get out of my way or will you rather
get trialed for treason?”

At last, the bloodkin acknowledged the truth. Their situation was

already precarious, but if Dante was indeed the heir, they were all
likely wondering what in the world they were going to do now.

In the end, it was all very easy. One of the men stepped aside, and

everyone else followed his example. Dante rushed past them, and Eli
followed him, his heart hammering as he prayed to the Mother Earth
for Aran’s survival.

What he found in the cell took him aback. Aran and Valerian were

both unconscious on the floor. Eli took one look of them and said,
“Blood Freedom.”

He and Dante had attempted to use the poison on the Imperator

once before. It made no sense that Aran would fall for it now. And
how had Valerian gotten involved in all of this?

As if guessing Eli’s dilemma, Thomson proceeded to explain. “It

looks like Valerian was behind it the whole time. The Imperator

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ordered me to investigate while his foes deemed him incapable of
resisting their coup, but…I was too slow.”

Was it Eli’s impression, or did the wraith look a little

heartbroken? He could only imagine what the connection between
Thomson and Aran could be. Also, he had not forgotten that Eli
himself had contacted the spy to request his assistance in sending a
message to Dante. Had Aran known about it all along? It was a
sobering thought, one that made Eli wonder exactly what else Aran
had figured out and planned.

It didn’t really matter, because they hadn’t come here to ask

questions. Eli wasn’t ready to give up on Aran, not when he knew
how much the bloodkin Imperator meant for Dante.

Even if Eli and Dante hadn’t managed to complete their bond, Eli

could already sense his mate’s pain. He refused to accept it. They had
to find a way to fix this, or it would all be for naught.

Most people thought that no cure existed against Blood Freedom.

Eli was in the unique position of knowing this was not the case. As
the son of the light elf leader, he’d been made aware of the truth in
this regard. The effects of the substance could be countered.
Unfortunately, Eli didn’t know how to do it. The only people who did
were beyond his reach, in the home he’d left behind for Dante.

However, in spite of the differences between himself and his

father, Eli still had faith in Sorr. He still believed that the older man
wouldn’t just let a person die if he could help it, even if the individual
in question was bloodkin.

Besides, Valerian’s situation couldn’t be forgotten either. Valerian

was still very young, and while his actions toward his father were
unpardonable, light elves had too much respect for life to allow
Valerian to just perish.

Oblivious to Eli’s thoughts, Dante dropped to his knees next to his

father. In the meantime, more bloodkin stepped into the cell,
clustering around the Imperator and Valerian. “What do we do?” one
of the men asked.

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“Prince Valerian needs blood,” someone offered. “The Imperator

must have drunk quite a lot from him.”

Dante shot the man in question an angry look. “Are you an idiot?

It’s not blood loss that has him unconscious. It’s the poison.”

His body was as tense as a bowstring, and he seemed ready to

pounce on the guard any moment now. Eli pressed a hand to his
mate’s shoulder and said, “Don’t. Now is not the time for that, Dante.
We need to get them both to Hashiraden.”

Dante’s gaze immediately turned toward him. “Hashiraden?” he

repeated in disbelief. “Why, Eli? They exiled you just because you
helped Kier and came in contact with Vane in the process. You can’t
possibly think that they’d help us. Besides, there’s no cure for Blood
Freedom.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Eli would have been surprised that his

mate hadn’t seen this information in his memories, but Dante had
only fed from him a few times, and Eli’s focus had never been on the
poison. “I believe the high priest of my people would know how to
heal them, but we have to hurry.”

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” Thomson started to

protest.

“The wraith is correct,” Antemia piped up. “You’re mad if you

think the elves will help us in any way.”

“Be silent!” Dante shouted at her. “No one asked for your opinion.

It does indeed seem likely that we’ll be refused. However, we don’t
have a choice. The alternative would be to let them die without even
trying, and that is simply unacceptable. Thomson, make yourself
useful and find Gideon. We need some organization while I’m gone.”

With a nod, the wraith dissipated into thin air. Eli had honestly

never understood the true extent of a wraith’s abilities, but he was
glad to have one on his side. Even if Thomson had betrayed Eli and
his mate, he appeared to have some form of loyalty toward Aran.
Right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

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Dante didn’t even blink when Thomson disappeared. Instead, he

directed his attention toward the rest of the gathering. “Roshan, get
Kier and the others. We’re going to need some help with this.”
Turning toward the group of bloodkin soldiers, he scowled. “All of
you…If you want to be spared upon my return, take this woman to the
tower and make sure she doesn’t escape.”

Roshan responded to Dante’s words by turning on his heel and

disappearing down the corridor, presumably to go through with the
command. The bloodkin weren’t nearly as efficient. “Yes, Your
Majesty,” one of the soldiers said, although he still seemed to hesitate.

“Your Highness,” Dante corrected the other man. “Last time I

checked, my father was still alive.”

Eli didn’t bother to tell his mate that might not be the case if they

didn’t hurry. Dante already seemed more than aware of it. With
excruciating gentleness, he took his father in his arms and left the cell.
Eli did the same with Valerian, and rushed after his mate. His mind
was already screaming at him, berating him for what he intended to
do. Even so, Eli would not back down. He’d face his father and his
past, and hopefully with the help of Mother Earth, he’d come out the
victor.

Fortunately, Thomson came through for them with striking

expedience. As they ran toward the dungeon exit, he reappeared at
their side and said, “Prince Gideon is in his quarters. Apparently, he’s
been drugged, although not with Blood Freedom.”

“Of course,” Dante murmured. “They’d want him to be out for the

count until they went through with their plan.”

Thomson nodded. “I’ve managed to wake him, but he is still

dazed.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Vane said. “You can’t just leave

the palace with no one to handle it.”

“True,” Dante said. Before he could add anything else, their group

ran into Kier’s. Cole released a curse when he saw them, while Kier

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paled, something quite striking given Kier’s dark coloring. “Sweet
Mother Earth,” the other elf said. “What happened?”

“Blood Freedom,” Eli replied simply. “Quickly. We need to get

them to my father.”

Kier didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea of having to return

to Manturanael, but neither did he protest. They didn’t have time to
hesitate or doubt. There was too much at stake here.

“Vane, Cole, I’m giving you back your Kin Lord positions, at

least on a temporary basis. In my absence, help Gideon hold the fort
and make sure nothing else goes wrong.”

“I’m going with you,” Kier offered. Dante assented with a brisk

nod, already heading toward the stables.

Cole didn’t seem very happy about Kier’s decision. Given his

long separation from Kier, Eli didn’t blame him. But then, Kier kissed
Cole’s cheek and smiled slightly. Eli half expected the bloodkin to
keep Kier from going, but Cole didn’t. Instead, he pulled Kier close
for a real kiss, one of passion and need. When they broke apart, the
bloodkin brushed his thumb over Kier’s lower lip. “Good luck.”

In spite of the awful circumstances, Eli felt pleased that his friend

had finally managed to find happiness. That brief pang of glee was
overshadowed, however, by the knowledge of his own mate’s
distress. “Come on,” he told Kier. “Let’s go.”

With a silent good-bye toward his friends, Eli rushed after Dante

and to the stables. Death was already looming close to Aran and
Valerian, and salvation lay in Manturanael. Would they manage to
reach Hashiraden in time? Would Eli’s father even agree to receive
them? Eli couldn’t be sure, but he certainly hoped so. He had to
believe that, no matter how much hatred elves felt for bloodkin, his
sire wouldn’t refuse such a request. He didn’t want to even consider
what would happen if they were refused.

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Chapter Eight

A long time ago, before bloodkin influence had extended all over

the continent, elves had kept an eye on human activity. Back then,
elven envoys had, at times, even opened trade routes. For the purpose
of their transportation, magical portals were created.

No one even knew anymore what kind of power had been behind

the emergence of these gateways. After the bloodkin expansion, most
of the ones on the continent had been abandoned, left forgotten, and
unused. Since only an elf could open them, there was no danger for
anyone outside these species to end up in Manturanael.

Nevertheless, in Eli’s memories, Dante had seen that the portals

still existed and remained in working order. In fact, one of the
gateways lay in the Tachakan plains, very close to the bloodkin
capital.

This proved to be fortunate in more than one way. First of all, this

had been the portal used by Eli and the others to escape shortly after
Dante’s death. Moreover, this would be the gateway that would carry
Dante and his companions to Manturanael, and hopefully to the cure
Aran and Valerian so desperately needed.

They left the palace using the bloodkin horses bred for the

exclusive use of the Imperator. Dante held onto Aran, always paying
close attention so as not to jar his father’s body too badly. Valerian
received the same treatment from Eli, while Kier rode ahead,
scanning for any possible threats. To prevent additional problems,
Dante remembered to put on a strong glamour so that the Tachakan
citizens wouldn’t see him carrying away the half-dead Imperator.

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This strategy worked, and they exited the city with no incident.

Even so, an impending sense of doom weighed on Dante’s heart. This
wasn’t how he’d imagined the day of his resurrection. He’d wanted to
finally wipe away the guilt he could see every time in Aran’s gaze.
He’d been dreaming of completing his mate bond with Eli and finally
having a family. Alas, it seemed that fate had other ideas.

Unlike Eli, Dante didn’t dare to hope that his mate’s father would

help them. From his point of view, a man who banished his own son
for no reason other than being a good friend couldn’t be relied upon.
But Eli still believed in his father, and Dante truly had no other option
but to trust his mate’s assessment. In the end, just like he’d told the
rest of the bloodkin back at the palace, this was the only option they
had that gave Aran and Valerian even a slim chance for survival.

At last, they reached their destination, a small grove in the middle

of the Tachakan plains. Dante had passed this spot countless times
without knowing what it hid. To his bloodkin eyes, the area looked
completely normal, the only thing that could have possibly drawn the
eye being a tree stump.

Everyone dismounted, and Dante carefully lifted his father off the

horse. As Eli did the same with Valerian, Kier eyed the two bloodkin
with clear skepticism. “I don’t think they’re in any condition to
withstand a transport through the portal,” the dark elf said.

Dante had never travelled through an elven portal. He’d caught

brief glimpses of it in Eli’s memories, but nothing significant enough
to allow him to understand what Kier meant.

“The trip is hard on people who’ve never experienced it before,”

Eli explained. “Perhaps we should try something different.”

“Like what?” Dante inquired. “We don’t have time for further

delays.”

“I was thinking to go ahead and let my father know,” Eli mused,

“but you’re probably right in that it wouldn’t work.”

“I guess you’re right. We have no choice but to chance it,” Kier

said as he headed toward the tree stump. “From what I know, Blood

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Freedom is very potent. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, the Imperator and
Prince Valerian should have already been dead.”

“I can only guess some modifications were made to the

substance,” Dante answered, following the dark elf with his father in
his arms and his horse in tow. “Is this where we need to be?”

Kier nodded. “If I may, perhaps you’d allow me to carry your

father,” he told Dante. “This is your first time traveling this way and
you might lose your balance.”

The words were likely not meant as an insult, but Dante couldn’t

help but bristle. His naturally suspicious nature pointed out that Kier
had a lot of reasons to hate Aran. They had a history, and a very
unpleasant one at that. Dante’s father had once exiled Cole, therefore
separating Kier from his mate for fifty years. Upon Cole’s return,
Aran had taken him as a lover. And okay, Dante’s reluctance to
cooperate with Kier might have also had something to do with the fact
that a part of him was still jealous of the dark elf. How in the world
could he possibly trust the other man with something so precious to
him?

“I understand how you feel,” Kier said, surprising Dante. “But I

think now that he’s a good man. He was just…misguided.”

Misguided. Dante supposed that word was quite generous, from

Kier’s perspective, at least. Dante honestly would have preferred to
give his father to Eli, but his mate was carrying Valerian, and they
couldn’t wait around passing unconscious people to each other while
the persons in question suffered.

Then, Dante looked in the dark elf’s eyes, and for a moment there

he saw the same man Eli did, a good friend who’d found happiness
and had left the past behind. Something eased inside his heart, the
burden of doubt slowly vanishing. Without a word, he handed Aran to
Kier. Strikingly, Kier was just as careful with Aran as Dante himself
had been, which confirmed the fact that Dante had made the right
decision.

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“If you’d do the honors, Eli,” Kier said as they all gathered around

the tree stump. Eli nodded and started to chant. Before Dante even
knew what was going on, the world started to swirl madly. Lights
flashed in his vision, reminding Dante far too much of the first day
after his death.

He didn’t know how long it all lasted, but when the madness

stopped, Dante fell to his knees and took a couple of deep breaths. His
first thought was that Kier had been correct about the portal’s effect.
As his mind cleared, he realized something else. The air smelled
different. It felt different. When Dante looked up, he was unsurprised
to find himself in a wide grove, surrounded by light elves. He was in
Manturanael.

Unwilling to allow the nausea to keep him on his knees in front of

the people he still considered his opponents, Dante got up.
Meanwhile, the elves in the area were gathering around them, holding
wicked-looking bows. Judging by their expressions, they weren’t very
happy to see Eli back, and even less pleased that Eli had brought
bloodkin with him.

All of the lingering dizziness vanished, replaced by tension and

apprehension. Dante could probably take these elves on long enough
to make an escape, but the situation of their injured worsened with
every passing second. Coming here had to be the craziest thing Dante
had ever done, but he held his ground and didn’t allow anyone to see
his anxiety.

Eli handed Valerian to him and smiled slightly. “Don’t worry,” he

mouthed. “We’ll get through to them.”

Dante wanted nothing more than to hug his lover tightly. Instead,

he held onto his dying brother and waited to see what would happen.
Turning away from him, Eli slowly approached the other light elves.
Instantly, dozens of arrows were pointed his way.

Even if he held Valerian in his arms, Dante couldn’t help but take

a step forward. Kier stopped him, placing himself between Dante and

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Eli. “Don’t. If you want this plan to have any chance of success, you
have to trust Eli will know what to do.”

“I trust Eli,” Dante murmured. “They, on the other hand, are a

different matter entirely.”

Having obviously overheard him, one of the elves threw a dirty

look his way. “And what would a bloodkin know of trust?” he
sneered.

Eli intervened before the matter could escalate into violence.

“Please. I didn’t come here to fight. I just want to see Father.”

“I don’t believe that would be a very good idea,” another elf guard

said. “Turn back at once.”

“This is important,” Eli insisted. “These men need his help. Could

you at least take a message to him?”

All of a sudden, a loud voice rang out in the grove. Dante looked

past the group of assembled guards and saw a tall, blond elf
approaching. His somber air and elegantly embroidered outfit clearly
illustrated that he occupied a position of authority. Something about
him, likely his gold eyes, reminded Dante of Eli.

“That won’t be necessary,” the new arrival said. “I’m right here.”

* * * *

Several months had passed since Eli had last seen his father. At

that time, his sire had banished him from Manturanael, only because
he’d allied himself with Vane in order to save Kier.

His father hadn’t changed in the slightest, but that came as no

surprise. Of course, physical differences were out of the question, but
Eli had been hoping for some sign that his sire had missed him.
Obviously, he’d been asking for too much. Ironically, when he was in
public, Sorr Starburst showed as much emotion as some bloodkin Eli
had recently met.

Of course, Eli couldn’t say it surprised him. Growing up, he’d

gotten used to his father’s ways. He’d never known his mother, as she

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had unexpectedly died when she’d given birth to him, but according
to what he’d been told, she hadn’t been Sorr’s true mate. Eli guessed
that might be one of the reasons why his father had never had the
ability to understand him.

But Eli didn’t let that stop him. Pushing past the guards, he met

his father halfway. As Sorr arched a brow at him, Eli dropped to his
knees and bowed. “I humbly request your assistance for a matter of
grave importance.”

“So I heard,” Sorr answered. “Rise, son. I do believe we don’t

have time for formalities.”

Eli looked up at his father, taking in Sorr’s matter-of-fact

demeanor with wide eyes. Automatically, he followed Sorr’s
command and shot to his feet. Sorr threw him a small, almost
imperceptible smile, making Eli revise his opinion of his father’s
approach toward public displays of affection. It startled him so much
that he almost missed what his father said next. “As I understand it,
the Imperator is gravely injured. We must get him medical attention at
once. Where is he?”

If he wanted to be honest, Eli had expected to have more of a

battle on his hands, to have to coax and plead in order to convince
Sorr to assist them. But his father seemed to already be aware of the
matter, which surprised Eli a great deal. Not to mention that this
unexpected helpfulness was quite out of character. Nevertheless, Eli
quickly recovered and headed toward his waiting mate. “This way.”

The elven guards allowed them to pass, and they rushed together

to Kier and Dante. Sorr took one look at the unconscious bloodkin
and said, “This is very bad. We must make haste. Follow me.”

Was it Eli’s impression or did Sorr’s gaze linger slightly on Aran?

The brief moment of hesitation likely went unnoticed by the rest of
those present, but not by Eli. Either way, no one spoke as they
abandoned the grove with the portal and headed toward the city.
Fortunately, this particular portal was very close to the capital city of
the elves, Hashiraden.

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Hashiraden was one of the few places in Manturanael where both

breeds of elves lived together. Living here had allowed Eli to meet
Kier and eventually fall in love with the orphaned night elf. As they
entered the capital city, Eli greedily took in its beauty and its quiet
elegance, the way his kind had built every structure around the trees,
integrating their lifestyle within nature, instead of modifying it.

It felt surreal to be walking through the streets of Hashiraden with

Dante. But nothing, not even the awe-inspiring sight of Hashiraden
could wipe away Eli’s growing fear. Suddenly, the city’s size became
an annoyance. Other elves glanced at them as they passed, their
curiosity and quiet disapproval settling over Eli like a malevolent
cloud. He ignored it, but it still seemed to take forever for them to
finally reach the temple of Mother Earth.

When Eli saw the large structure looming ahead, a small spark of

hope bloomed inside him. So far, things had gone well. His father had
proven to be quite cooperative. And if anyone in this world could heal
Aran and Valerian, it had to be the elven priests of Mother Earth.

As Sorr led them inside, a remarkable number of clerics gathered

at the entrance. “Blood Freedom,” Sorr said. “They’re fading already.
We need to act quickly.”

Activity exploded around Eli, Kier, and Dante. They were led in a

large room that bore a striking resemblance to the one where the ritual
to bring Dante back had taken place. There were even similar marble
platforms, although the sculptures and symbols were somewhat
different.

“Place your injured there,” one of the clerics said. Eli recognized

him as one of the most preeminent members of the priesthood, Lenias.

“Quickly now,” Lenias commanded. “Every second counts.”
Dante threw Eli a look of uncertainty, but obeyed. He laid

Valerian on one of the platforms, while Kier did the same with Aran.
“Very good,” Lenias told them. “Now, I’m going to have to ask you
to wait outside. This is going to be a very delicate process.”

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It wasn’t unexpected, but Dante still looked like he wanted to

protest. Eli took his mate’s hand and slowly pulled him out of the
room. “Let’s allow them to do their jobs,” he whispered. “They’re
good people. Since they’ve taken on this task, they’ll do their utmost
to save your father and your brother.”

For a few moments, Dante just stared at Eli. Their gazes met and

locked, and in Dante’s dark eyes, Eli saw so much heartbreak it
crushed him. Following a sudden impulse, he stepped toward Dante
and hugged his mate tightly. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right. I
promise you.”

“Oh, baby, you can’t possibly say that,” Dante whispered. “This is

out of your hands. You know as well as I do how slim their chances
are.”

“We’ve been through more and come out victorious. Don’t lose

hope.”

Dante didn’t reply. Instead, he crushed his mouth to Eli’s in a kiss

that tasted like need, fear, and desperation. And there was something
else, an edge of guilt and happiness that Eli could distinguish. He
wanted to push the pain aside and focus on the bliss of finally being
together, but emotions didn’t work that way. He could only hope that
his love would soothe some of Dante’s hurt.

The sound of a cleared throat interrupted them. Eli reluctantly

broke the kiss, at first thinking Kier was the one intervening. Sadly,
he turned out to be mistaken. Eli froze as he found himself facing his
father once again.

All traces of the earlier kindness had completely disappeared. Eli

took a deep breath, realizing that with everything that had happened,
he hadn’t even managed to introduce Dante to Sorr. In spite of Sorr’s
obvious disapproval, Eli refused to be ashamed.

Straightening his back, Eli said, “Father, this is Prince Dante

Bloodclaw, the Imperator’s youngest son. Dante, this is my father,
Lord Sorr Starburst.” As the two men looked at each other, Eli added,
“Dante is my mate.”

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“Your mate,” Sorr repeated. He looked from Eli to Dante, as if he

couldn’t quite bring himself to believe what Eli was saying. “Are you
serious?”

“You know I am,” Eli replied without flinching. “Please, Father.

Now is not the time for arguing.”

“Indeed,” Dante said. “I am grateful to you for your assistance and

am honored to be here, in your lovely home. However, I cannot
accept you questioning the bond between Eli and me.”

“You’ve got nerve, Prince Dante.” Sorr scowled at them. “I’ll

definitely admit that I’m not happy about this. But Eli is right in that
we have other priorities at the moment. For now, you’re both
welcome in Hashiraden. I’ll arrange for you to stay in the Starburst
family home.”

Eli looked past his father and saw Kier waiting there, looking a

little uncomfortable. “And what of Kier? He needs a place to stay, as
well.”

Sorr arched a brow. “Please, Eli, don’t insult me. I know that I

banished Kier, but today, I received the Imperator and his children in
Manturanael.”

Again, he sounded a little thoughtful, although Eli couldn’t detect

a real reason why this would be the case. “Thank you,” he said,
making a mental note to ask about Sorr’s strange attitude later.
Throwing a gaze toward the closed door, he decided to ask, “Do you
think they have a chance?”

“I wish I knew,” Sorr answered, more honestly that Eli had

expected. “In truth, Blood Freedom is one of the biggest mistakes our
people have ever made. No matter what our opinion on bloodkin is,
that poison shouldn’t have been created. It is lethal, and from my
point of view, evil. But if there’s anyone who can help the Imperator,
it’s those men in there.”

Eli leaned against his mate and nodded. From this point on, there

was nothing they could do but wait. As silence fell over the temple,
Eli sent a prayer to Mother Earth. She had somehow managed to

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convince Sorr to receive them. It seemed like one of the few
explanations that made sense. Perhaps, if everything went well, She
would listen to him and help Aran, too.

* * * *

Aran didn’t consider himself a weak man. He had his faults, of

course, but who didn’t? His affection for his children remained a
paradox for him, although Aran now realized it was a good thing.

Perhaps because of that love, the first thought that passed through

his mind as he opened his eyes was “my children.” In an instant, he
remembered what had happened, Valerian’s treachery and then,
Dante’s unexpected arrival. He couldn’t recall what had occurred
after that, but those brief flashes were enough to unsettle him greatly.

He tried to get up, but a strong hand pushed him down. “Stay

calm. You’re still very weak.”

Aran’s vision began to clear, and as he looked up, he saw a tall,

blond elf looming above him. Adrenaline kicked in, the knowledge
that he was in the presence of a foe casting away his dizziness. In one
flash of motion, he pushed the elf’s hand away and leapt off the bed.

Wait…bed? Where in the world was he? He didn’t recognize this

room, and he definitely didn’t recognize this man. Frustratingly
enough, his body decided this was a good time to prove the stranger
right, and his knees buckled, proving that no, willpower wasn’t
always enough to keep him on his feet.

He’d have undoubtedly fallen if the elf hadn’t caught him. Aran

glared, and would have tried to free himself from the man’s grip.
However, it seemed quite obvious that if he tried that, he’d do a less
than graceful face plant, which in the end, would only humiliate him.

Fortunately, the stranger didn’t make any derogatory comment.

Instead, he led Aran back to the bed. As Aran sat down, he took a
deep breath and decided to vocalize his numerous questions. “What
happened? Who are you, and where am I?”

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“My name is Sorr Starburst. You were poisoned with Blood

Freedom and dying because of it. My son, Eli, came up with the idea
to bring you here, to Manturanael.”

Aran couldn’t believe his ears. “I’m in the elven lands? That can’t

possibly be right.”

“Well, terribly sorry to disappoint you, but it’s true,” Sorr replied.
“Sorr Starburst,” Aran repeated the name to himself. “The light elf

leader.” As he scanned his supposed host from head to toe, he
couldn’t help but think that the ruler he’d long considered one of his
most dire enemies might just be the most attractive man in the world.
“I admit you’re not what I expected at all.”

“I understand exactly what you mean,” Sorr said, meeting Aran’s

gaze. “I didn’t think the Imperator would be so…young.”

Young? Aran narrowed his eyes at Sorr. Of course he had a

youthful appearance, but so did most bloodkin and elves. “Should I
take offense at that?”

Sorr opened his mouth to answer, but Aran waved whatever reply

the man intended to give. “Never mind. I don’t care about your
opinion of me. How’s Valerian? Is Dante all right?”

“Prince Dante is unharmed,” Sorr replied, seemingly not bothered

in the slightest by Aran’s comment. “He accompanied Eli here. I had
the most difficult time in getting him to leave your side.”

A flash of relief swept through Aran before he realized Sorr had

not addressed the first question. “What about Valerian?”

“I’m afraid that by the time Prince Dante brought him here, his

condition had already worsened. He has not recovered yet. We do not
know yet if he will ever awaken.”

Aran inhaled deeply, accepting the pain and the guilt that came

with that announcement. This was all his fault. If he’d been a better
father, a better example for his sons, this never would have happened.

He didn’t realize how much his emotions showed until Sorr’s

strong palm squeezed his shoulder. Aran was immediately horrified
since no matter how much he needed the comfort, he couldn’t allow it

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from the elf leader. Besides, his body once more disobeyed him and
was having a very unfortunate reaction to Sorr’s proximity.

Sorr would have undoubtedly realized his situation had a soft

knock not sounded at the door. Aran looked up, and his senses cleared
as he identified the familiar presences. Obviously noticing Aran’s
eagerness and anxiety, the elf headed toward the door. A few
moments later, Eli and Dante stepped into the room.

Instantly, Dante’s gaze zeroed on the bed. “Father,” he breathed

out. “You’re awake.”

Aran’s smile was only half-forced as he watched his son rush to

his side. “Thanks to the attentive ministrations of our honored host,”
he said.

“Yes, well, you are family,” Eli piped up.
Awkward silence fell over the room. It hadn’t occurred to Aran

until now, but yes, given that Eli and Dante were mates, the
Bloodclaw and Starburst clans were now inexorably related. He didn’t
really know what to say to that, but it was nevertheless quite amusing
to see Sorr twitch at Eli’s words.

The strange quiet was broken by Dante. He sat on the edge of the

bed and took Aran’s hand. “We’ve just come from seeing Valerian. I
don’t know how much Lord Sorr told you, but he was pretty sick,
more so than you even. It seems that your age and abilities gave you
some protection against the poison, but Valerian didn’t have that. In
any case, he looks much better. I’ve spoken with the high priest, and
he says he’s optimistic with regard to Valerian’s recovery.”

Aran eagerly scanned Dante’s face, seeking any sign of deception.

He saw none. It had to be true then. There were real chances that
Valerian would recover. A weight lifted off Aran’s heart, and he
allowed himself to plop back on the bed.

“Perhaps we should give the Imperator time to rest,” Sorr

suggested. “Everything else can wait until he’s completely
recovered.”

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“Yes, of course,” Dante quickly replied. As he got up from the

bed, he offered Aran a small smile. “Welcome back. You’ve been
missed.”

Aran grinned at his son. “It’s nice to be back. Go on. Run along

and enjoy your mate. I’ll be just fine.”

Knowing Dante, Aran guessed the younger bloodkin would have

held back and not claimed his mate because of Aran’s condition.
Well, Aran would not stand for it. He wanted Dante to be happy. And
if the concept of Eli bonding to Dante once more made Sorr twitch,
well, that was another plus.

As thankful as he felt for the assistance Sorr had granted them, it

seemed obvious that the light elf wasn’t exactly thrilled to have Dante
as a son-in-law. Even sick and recovering from Blood Freedom
poisoning, Aran wouldn’t allow any slight to his son.

Eli and Dante shared a look, and the younger light elf blushed a

little, confirming Aran’s guess. Dante took his mate’s hand and
nodded at Aran. “Thank you, Father. We’ll be back soon.”

“May Mother Earth ensure you a speedy recovery,” Eli added.
As the young couple retreated, Aran was left alone with Sorr

Starburst once again. In his mind, Aran revised a couple of his plans
to adapt to the situation and turned toward his host. “I believe you and
I need to talk, Lord Starburst.”

He had not expected this to happen, but he would be damned if

he’d let the occasion go to waste. There was too much they stood to
lose and to gain. As an Imperator and as a father, Aran would do his
utmost to reach out to the man in front of him, no matter how hard it
would be.

* * * *

Dante almost couldn’t believe it. His father had awoken. His

brother was on the mend. It simply seemed too good to be true. And
yet, it was undeniable, and the elves had made it all possible.

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Chuckling slightly, Eli held onto his hand and said, “Come on.

Let’s go. I want to show you something.”

Dante followed after his mate, for the first time in many days

allowing himself to experience the full joy of being with his mate.
Since coming to Hashiraden, they had barely even touched, respecting
the seriousness of Aran’s condition. More than once, Dante had been
tempted to forget his fears in the sweet bliss of Eli’s embrace, but
they’d always stopped before going too far.

Now, Dante greatly anticipated finally bonding with Eli.

However, he realized in shock that Eli wasn’t headed toward the room
they shared, but rather toward the exit of the Starburst home.

“Baby, there’s only one thing I’m interested in seeing, and it isn’t

outside,” he said flirtatiously.

Eli threw a grin over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m well aware of that.

And I promise you’ll get everything you want.”

Any resistance Dante might have tried to put up melted at Eli’s

expression. His dick went rock hard, pure lust burning through his
veins. He squeezed Eli’s hand harder, trying to convey his urgency. It
must have worked because Eli began to move even faster, speeding
past the occasional elf walking through the corridors.

In a way, it was unsurprising that Eli wanted to leave this place.

The day of their arrival, they’d been given accommodation here, in
Eli’s former home. In spite of the obvious apprehension of the
Hashiraden elves, Sorr had proven to be quite a welcoming host. He
still seemed displeased at Dante’s relationship with Eli, but he didn’t
show it quite so openly. More importantly, he didn’t allow it to
intervene with the assistance he provided to Aran and Valerian. As he
recovered, Aran had been transferred here, too, while Valerian
remained in the temple of Mother Earth.

But in spite of Sorr’s general solicitude, both Dante and Eli

needed a break from this place, preferably somewhere as secluded and
private as possible. Eli seemed to think the same, as the moment they

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left the large mansion, he started to lead Dante toward the outskirts of
Hashiraden.

They passed the temple in their walk, and Dante spared a thought

for his ailing brother. He was glad Valerian had survived. No matter
what their differences might have been, Valerian remained his
brother. Still, Dante wondered what his father would do once he
returned to the throne.

Pushing away that unpleasant thought, Dante devoted his full

attention to his mate. Even so, Eli noticed his distraction and slowed
down. “Everything all right?” he asked.

Dante wrapped an arm around Eli’s waist and kissed his temple.

“You know me so well. I was just thinking about what would happen
to Valerian.”

Eli released a put out sigh. “And here I thought I had at least a

little success in distracting you.”

“Oh, baby. You distract me more than you can possibly imagine.

In fact, if we get to whatever you want to show me, I’ll distract you
right back.”

They continued teasing each other, snickering and stealing sweet

and teasing caresses. At one point, it became a game to see who could
arouse the other more. They deliberately walked slower, prolonging
the wait that had already taken far too long. The sexual tension that
had been building between them for days started to pile up more and
more. By the time they at last exited the city, Dante’s skin itched with
desire. He tasted blood in his mouth, his own blood, since he seemed
to have no control over his fangs. It was a little frightening, really,
given that Dante’s thirst should have abated by now. He’d been
feeding regularly from his mate, although he’d tried not to overdo it.
Truth be told, Dante was now surprised at how he’d even manage to
control his libido while drinking Eli’s blood. It seemed unfathomable
now.

As they left the city, Dante allowed himself to indulge in more

daring caresses. He lowered his hand over his mate’s back and down

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to Eli’s buttocks. “How much further?” he asked as he rubbed his
fingers across Eli’s crease.

“It’s…It’s close,” Eli stammered.
So was Dante, close to losing what little control he had left.

Fortunately, Eli’s words turned out to be truthful, and soon, they
veered off the main path into a more hidden one. From this point on,
the vegetation became denser, almost wild. The trees allowed them to
pass, though, almost as if Eli had some conscious control over the
environment. Dante knew that his mate didn’t have such abilities. It
was just that Manturanael as a whole welcomed elves in a way that
went beyond Dante’s power of comprehension.

At last, Eli stopped in a grove that was a lot like the one with the

portal. “This used to be the place where I went to be alone and think.
After I met Kier, I didn’t come here all that much anymore. To tell
you the truth, I don’t really know why. I shared everything with him,
except this.”

As he spoke, Eli sat down in the shade of a nearby tree. Dante

plopped down next to him, his mind whirling as he took in Eli’s
words. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand how much you mean to me,”

Eli replied. “I know it’s been hard for you, to be here, to accept my
friendship with Kier.” The elf suddenly straddled Dante, effectively
pinning him against the tree. “I never thought I’d love again when I
lost Kier. I didn’t realize that I hadn’t actually found my true love
yet.”

There was so much Dante wanted to say, so many things he’d

have liked to reveal, express, and shout to the world. Of course Eli
understood everything Dante had been going through. He might have
acknowledged the fact that Kier and Eli had long ago stopped being
an item, but the green-eyed monster still reared its ugly head from
time to time. What with his father sick, he’d been even more on the
edge. But he’d held his tongue and kept his temper in check, both
around Kier and around Sorr.

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He decided that he could never come up with something to

eloquently suggest his feelings. Eli was definitely better at this than
him. But Dante had other ways to convey his need and love for his
mate. Without hesitating one single second, he pushed Eli off his lap
and pinned the elf to the ground, holding him there with his own
body.

Eli’s beautiful lips beckoned him closer, drawing him like a moth

to the flame. Desperately craving Eli’s taste, Dante pressed their
mouths together. With a gasp, Dante parted his lips for him, granting
Dante entrance. Dante didn’t delay in taking advantage of his lover’s
submission. He thrust his tongue into Eli’s wet cavern, delving deep,
taking no prisoners. Eli wrapped his arms around Dante’s neck,
rubbing against him, obviously seeking more.

Dante might have been the one to take command in the bedroom,

but he was also completely at his lover’s beck and call. Today was no
different, and Dante’s urgency sky-rocketed, so much so that his
power surged through him, scathing, ruthless, and intense. With a
thought, he bound Eli’s hands over his head. He took great pleasure in
smothering Eli’s groan of protest and pleasure with his kiss. He felt
the loss of Eli’s touch acutely, but he knew his lover needed to lose
himself and grant Dante control over their shared passion.

Here, with Mother Earth as their only witness, nothing but that all-

consuming desire mattered. And oh, did Dante desire his mate. He
needed to claim Eli more than anything he remembered craving
before. They’d been waiting for so long, too long, separated by
factors that shouldn’t have had any effect on their love in the first
place. But now, it was all over, and Dante could at last grant himself,
and Eli, their prize.

His instincts were running rampant now, and he bit down on Eli’s

lower lip. It was his turn to groan as the flavor of Eli’s blood hit his
taste buds. No matter how many times he fed from his mate, he
simply couldn’t get enough of it.

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Tearing his mouth away from their kiss was likely one of the

hardest things he’d ever done. But living as a bloodkin prince had
taught him discipline, and he clung to his dutifully cultivated control.
There was so much he wanted to do to his mate, too much to rush
ahead like a rash neophyte.

Grinning, Dante pulled away ever so slightly and took in the sight

of his mate lying there, at his mercy. Eli had told him once that
Manturanael was beautiful, but to Dante’s eyes, the loveliness of
elven lands paled when compared to Eli’s almost surreal perfection.

“Dante,” Eli whispered, “please, touch me.”
Dante arched a brow. “You know it doesn’t work like that. It’s not

my touch that you crave. It’s the pain I can give you.”

Eli’s breath came in ragged pants now, his golden pupils dilated

with desire. The elf couldn’t hide anything now, and in those beautiful
eyes, Dante saw Eli’s every need. He could hear it, like a whisper at
the back of his mind, as if Eli were talking to him out loud. Was this
the bond that appeared between a bloodkin and a donor? If so, Dante
could only imagine how much deeper the mate connection would be.

Slowly, carefully, Dante began to remove Eli’s clothing. With

Eli’s hands bound, it was a little awkward, so Dante decided not to
bother to rescue Eli’s shirt. In one smooth motion, he ripped the
frustrating material, revealing his mate’s chest. Eli’s nipples perked
up, as if demanding Dante’s attention. Since he was in a generous
mood, Dante complied. He passed a claw over the tender nubs, at first
only teasing them, but then, pressing a little harder. Eli hissed as the
sharp tip drew blood, but it was a sound Dante easily translated as one
of pleasure.

“I’m thinking that one day, we should get these pierced. They

always react so beautifully. What do you think?”

Eli’s only reply was a moan, which predictably went straight to

Dante’s cock. He considered asking Eli to remain completely silent,
but the noises Eli made were too sensual to be hidden or suppressed.

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Besides, Dante would never be so weak so as to refuse his mate
something because of his own inability to keep himself in check.

Instead, Dante allowed the sound to flow over him, accepting the

way the nearly physical caress reached out to him. As torturous as it
was, he decided he wanted to hear more. But first, he had to finish
what he’d started. After all, there was a time and place for everything,
and right now, the moment had come for all those clothes to be taken
off Eli’s lovely body.

Dante pulled off Eli’s boots and dumped them on the grass, next

to the remnants of his mate’s shirt. He trailed his fingers over the arch
of Eli’s foot, marveling at the delicate feel of the skin. Dante had
never been particularly attracted to feet, but even Eli’s toes were
beautiful. He found himself distracted by the softness of the sole, the
clear surface of the toenails, and especially the way Eli twitched just
so when Dante touched him there. It was captivating to discover new
and exciting things about his lover’s body. Throughout the time
they’d spent in Tachaka, their lovemaking had lacked a certain
dimension of corporeality. Even if Dante had been more real and
more solid around Eli, something had always been missing. But now,
he had the freedom to explore in every way, to exert control over Eli’s
body and guide Eli to peaks of pleasure the elf had never before
reached. While Dante anticipated all of that, planning every step of
his seduction, he was still in awe with the little things, the details that
made Eli so very perfect.

A part of him would have liked to rush things along, but this was

their first time together in both flesh and spirit. As such, Dante
decided he’d take the luxury of mapping every inch of Eli’s skin with
his tongue, just like he’d always wanted. He lowered his mouth over
Eli’s foot and slowly sucked on the toes, waiting for Eli’s reaction. It
didn’t delay in coming, and Dante had to weave a spell of restraint
around Eli, lest his mate kick him in the face.

As Dante fellated one foot, then the other, Eli began to lose

whatever composure he’d managed to preserve. It suited Dante just

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fine since this was what they both needed. Dante wanted to see Eli
come undone under his touch, to watch him writhe in passion, to have
the gold of Eli’s eyes melting in the fires of desire. Eli was well on his
way there, and Dante had only just started.

Since Eli’s cries were increasing to alarming extents, Dante

released his mate’s foot and returned to his previous task. He pulled
off Eli’s pants, drawing the elf’s underwear down with it. Eli released
a high-pitched whine as Dante’s hand brushed over his prick. “More,”
he begged. “Oh, sweet Mother Earth. More.”

“I think not,” Dante replied. “It seems it’s time to teach you a little

lesson.”

As he dropped the pants with the rest of Eli’s garments, Dante

swept an idle hand over Eli’s leg. “You see, my dear sweet elf, I’ve
been gentle with you so far. Given my previous condition, I couldn’t
show you what being with me truly meant. But I will show you
today.”

Back in Tachaka, Dante had owned a great deal of toys, shackles,

and other such items. He’d refrained from using them with Eli for
obvious reasons, and here he had none of them. However, his whole
body was a weapon, one he could use at will, and in this case to inflict
a lot of pleasure on Eli. Yes, it would be painful pleasure, but Dante
could already tell that his mate would very much enjoy it.

Even so, for the purpose of safety and because he remained very

protective of his mate, Dante said, “First of all, pick a word,
something that wouldn’t come up in normal conversation.”

Eli blinked, as if trying to steady himself or clear his mind. “Now?

You want me…you want me to think of something like that now?”

“It would be preferable, yes,” Dante replied. “Take your time. I’m

not going anywhere.”

Just because he wanted to tease Eli, he removed his hand and sat

back, practically losing all contact with his mate in the process. Eli’s
eyes widened, and he tried to free himself, but the bindings wouldn’t
let him. Technically speaking, Dante hadn’t anchored the magical

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shackles from a physical item, but they immobilized Eli regardless,
because he wanted them to.

“Well?” he asked with a smirk, rubbing his engorged dick through

his pants. “Come up with anything yet?”

Eli’s gaze instantly went to Dante’s prick, which had actually

been his intention in the first place. “Inn,” the elf said. “I pick inn.”

Inn. The place where they had first met, and where Dante had

nearly forced Eli into a blow job. Dante remembered it well now,
remembered the strange anger he’d experienced at the thought of the
beautiful, odd elf sacrificing himself for another man, one who
already had a different love. It seemed like so long ago now. How had
he ever considered Kier a threat? Kier couldn’t give Eli what he
needed. Dante was the only one who truly knew and appreciated Eli
in every way.

Satisfied with the choice, Dante got up. Eli’s face took a panicked,

almost haunted expression. He likely thought Dante would just leave
him like that, bound and tortured by the unsatisfied want. That
strategy was always quite appealing for Dante, because when he
returned to Eli’s side, the elf always became so much more desperate
and passionate, to a maddening extent. But Dante didn’t have such
plans today. Instead, he started to take his own garments off.

Before, when they made love, Dante had been able to will himself

undressed. It was, apparently, a side effect of being a spirit, rather
than a living person. He no longer had that ability, but while he
missed the simple expediency, there was something to be said about
the more time-consuming method. He could have, of course, been
almost as efficient, either with the use of his magic or just by simply
tearing the material off. However, he wanted to give his beautiful
mate a show. As such, he stripped at an excruciatingly slow pace, all
the while holding Eli’s gaze. “It’s a good choice,” he said, keeping his
voice steady even as he removed his shirt. “Remember that word and
say it if I ever do something you don’t like.”

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Eli took in his every motion with greedy, lustful eyes. “I think

that’s likely an impossible endeavor.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Dante told his mate a little more sternly.

“You’re not used to some of the things I do. If it ever gets too much, I
want you to speak to me. Don’t be afraid or ashamed. Do you
understand, Eli?”

Dante’s tone instantly tamed whatever protest Eli might have tried

to make. “Yes, Dante,” he replied automatically. “I understand.”

“Yes, Master,” Dante corrected. This time, for the purpose of the

more intense game, he wanted to get Eli in the perfect mindset, to
make Eli fully understand what his own desires meant. “Say it. I want
to hear it.”

“Yes, Master,” Eli parroted. “Yes, Master.”
He repeated the words a few more times, as if he liked the sound

of them. His voice died, though, when Dante discarded his own boots
and finally reached his pants. For a few seconds, Eli actually seemed
to stop breathing, staring transfixed at Dante’s groin. Maintaining the
same pace, Dante undid his laces and slowly pushed his breeches off.
Eli made a sound like a dying bird when, at last, Dante freed his cock
from its confines.

Eli’s response to Dante’s nudity was perhaps one of the most

potent aphrodisiacs in existence. It took everything in Dante’s power
not to pounce on Eli and simply thrust his throbbing prick in the tight
welcoming heat of Eli’s body. In hindsight, he’d have probably been
better off staying clothed, but he disliked the idea of keeping his
garments as some sort of armor to protect him from Eli’s effect on
him. Their passion was a normal, natural, and perfect thing. Dante
could tame it and use it, not hide it or push it back. He wanted Eli to
see how much he was wanted. They weren’t only two men meeting
for a fun romp in the privacy of the forest, but mates and longtime
lovers who were finally finding what they’d sought for so long.

Dante knelt next to his mate, and allowed his bloodkin nature to

emerge completely. Eli’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

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Dante might have mistaken that reaction for fear, if Eli’s dick hadn’t
twitched, already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum on Eli’s belly.
Nevertheless, Dante asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

“No, Master,” Eli answered. It was a simple, three-syllable

response, but it aroused Dante beyond belief, just because he could
see how openly and naturally Eli submitted to him.

He ached to show Eli that he’d made the right choice, but he

needed to take it slow, both for the purpose of his seduction plan, and
for Eli’s enjoyment and safety. “Are you afraid of this?” he inquired.

“Maybe,” the elf said this time. “I’m not sure how I feel, Master. I

just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You will stop thinking such nonsense right now,” Dante ordered.

“You could never disappoint me. Now close your eyes and relax.
Listen only to me. Your thoughts, your will don’t matter. Nothing
matters, except what I say.”

As he spoke, Dante threw aside every possible doubt, trusting

himself and his instinct. He watched Eli’s face carefully, monitoring
every reaction, seeking signs that Eli might not be ready for this. He
needn’t have worried. Slowly, as if hypnotized, Eli obeyed him, the
tension leaving his body. He closed his eyes, and while Dante missed
looking at those golden orbs, he was pleased with Eli’s compliance.

Dante kept talking because Eli enjoyed it, but also because he

himself liked telling his mate everything he was going to do. But
words were no longer enough, and Dante began to show Eli exactly
what it meant to be a bloodkin’s mate. He raked his claws over Eli’s
chest, this time applying just enough pressure to draw blood. A few
superficial scratches appeared on his mate’s skin as a result, but Eli
didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he arched his back, wordlessly
demanding more. Dante gave in, and in one particular spot, just above
Eli’s heard, he allowed one of his claws to pierce the flesh a little
deeper.

Eli said one single word, “Master,” and Dante knew there was no

going back. Lowering his body over Eli’s, he licked the thin trail of

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blood now flowing down Eli’s chest. It was in no way a real wound as
Dante would never actually hurt his mate. He would have rather cut
his own hand off before allowing that to happen. The pain he
provided was for the enjoyment of both of them, and as they danced
the thin line between agony and ecstasy, Dante listened to the sweet
sound of Eli’s cries and took them as his guide.

Dante sealed the tiny wound with his tongue, then progressed

lower down Eli’s body. He loved the perfect expanse of his mate’s
skin, but he liked it even more when it was covered by love bites from
him.

As he mapped the entirety of his mate’s athletic form with his

tongue, he applied the occasional nip of fang. Sometimes, he bit
down, although never quite hard enough to draw blood. Other times,
he sucked on a particular spot until a bruise formed on Eli’s pale skin.
But he never lingered too much in one area, not wanting to push Eli
too hard. Instead, he gradually increased the intensity of what he was
doing, building up to a more challenging experience.

His mate had dissolved into all-out incoherence by now. He’d

clamped his eyes shut, just like Dante had told him, but his original
relaxation had melted into renewed sensual desire. The elf’s cock
bobbed between their bodies, and judging by its angry, purplish color,
Dante would have bet money his lover was very close to coming.

That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. He enjoyed making Eli

come, but the progress toward climax could be just as rewarding.
With a thought, Dante created a cock ring around the base of his
mate’s dick, effectively staving any potential climax.

At that, Eli’s eyes snapped open. Dante looked up into those

golden depths that simply melted his heart. As he massaged Eli’s
dick, rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip, he asked, “Anything
you’d like to say, Eli?”

For a few seconds, Eli seemed to want to argue, but then, he

changed his mind. “Just that I want you, Master,” he replied honestly.

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Dante’s dick throbbed painfully at those simple, yet so special

words. Even so, he held onto his carefully cultivated control and
grinned at his mate. “Exactly what is it that you wish from me?”

Eli released a small whimper, wriggling around under Dante. It

seemed like Dante’s question had a physical effect on the elf, which
was actually very pleasing. “Fuck me,” Eli whispered. “I need you to
fuck me.”

Dante chuckled. “Is that right? Well, if you want my cock in your

ass so badly, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Releasing his hold on Eli’s dick, Dante straddled his mate. He

climbed over Eli’s chest, bringing his cock close to his mate’s mouth.
Eli’s gaze focused on Dante’s member and he licked his lips, straining
against the bindings he couldn’t break. Slowly, Dante brushed the tip
of his dick over Eli’s lips, drawing a moan out of the elf. Taking
advantage of the provided opportunity, Dante pushed his shaft deep
inside Eli’s wet cavern.

The heat that engulfed him temporarily threatened to make him

come. Dante gritted his teeth, stubbornly reeling in his orgasm. But
Eli was so beautifully submissive, so eager to accept everything they
did together that Dante’s mind almost became overwhelmed. He
allowed the full extent of his passion to burst free and thrust his dick
all the way into Eli’s throat. For a few seconds, he held still, knowing
that he was cutting out Eli’s air supply, but understanding the limits of
what they could do together without any real danger. Even if Eli
couldn’t say his safe word around a mouthful of cock, their bond,
halfway complete as it might be, provided Dante with insight on Eli’s
every emotion.

Eli didn’t protest this time either. The trust he showed toward

Dante was almost humbling, but then, Eli had given Dante access to
his soul and body in even deeper ways. This was only a physical,
carnal manifestation of the way they fit together just perfectly.

With a groan, Dante pulled his dick out of Eli’s mouth and thrust

back in. Over and over, he fucked Eli’s mouth, both seeking his

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climax and avoiding it. Looking down, he could see the perfect sight
of his mate’s lips wrapped around his dick. It was the image of sin,
and yet the bliss on Eli’s face held a sense of purity that, under normal
circumstances, Dante would have never expected from a man giving a
blow job.

In spite of the intensity of the pleasure that Dante found in Eli’s

skilled mouth, it was Eli’s happiness that finally triggered Dante’s
orgasm. He could resist raw physical ecstasy, but he had no barriers
against Eli’s openness and love. Growling, Dante buried his dick one
last time in Eli’s throat and came. As his cock pulsed and filled Eli’s
mouth with streams of spunk, the elf greedily drank it all down, at the
same time shivering and moaning, almost sounding like he’d come as
well.

This was not the case, of course, due to the cock ring Dante had

placed on him. However, as he freed his dick from Eli’s mouth, Dante
glanced at Eli’s dick, and its engorged state clearly illustrated that
only that enchantment kept Eli’s orgasm in check.

Pleased, Dante decided it was time to give Eli his reward. But

first, he pressed his mouth to Eli’s, sampling the flavor of his own
spent pleasure, combined with Eli’s specific taste. When he pulled
away, he started to pepper Eli’s chest with kisses and bites, advancing
toward Eli’s abs as he did so. He didn’t take as much time as he did
before, instead going straight for the prize.

Without giving his mate a single warning, Dante took Eli’s dick in

his mouth. Oh, how he’d desired this, to feel the weight of Eli’s dick
on his tongue, to truly experience his mate’s flavor without the veil of
his previous ghostly state. It was glorious, just like he’d thought it
would be. Dante’s cock, which had never fully gone limp, became
rock hard once again. He bobbed his head up and down Eli’s shaft,
taking the swollen member all the way into his throat and swallowing
around the head. As Eli’s cries grew in volume, Dante slowed down,
choosing to swirl his tongue around the head of his mate’s dick
instead or lazily licking the side of the delicious prick. He directed his

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attention to Eli’s balls, teasing the delicate spheres and exploring the
wrinkled sac.

Finally, when his own libido was starting to beg for mercy, he

sucked in Eli’s shaft once more. This time, when he swallowed it
down, he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his fangs into the base of
Eli’s dick, feeding from Eli like he’d wanted to for so long. Eli went
rigid, the pleasure he experienced from the feeding obviously
becoming too much for him to contain. Screaming, Eli exploded, his
passion managing to circumvent Dante’s spell. It surprised Dante a
little, but didn’t upset him since he’d intended to cancel the spell
anyway.

For a few seconds, he allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the

taste of Eli’s seed. He pulled back at the last minute, and some of the
spunk landed on his face and his chest. Dante gathered it on his
fingers, and even as his mate continued to tremble through the
afterglow of his orgasm, he thrust the slick digits inside Eli’s ass.

Unlike before, they didn’t have the benefit of Eli’s body adapting

to Dante’s girth whether they used lubricant or not. Therefore Dante
had to take his time and prepare his lover. He finger-fucked Eli,
scissoring his digits inside the elf to stretch his mate’s passage. He
rubbed Eli’s prostate mercilessly, knowing how much Eli would
enjoy it. And of course, he was right. His efforts didn’t go unnoticed,
and Eli started to pant and moan again, his dick stiffening in response
to Dante’s ministrations.

He sounded breathless now, his voice ragged and hoarse as he

cried out, “Dante…Oh, Master, please, take me!”

Dante hummed thoughtfully as he pulled his fingers out from Eli’s

ass. “Mmmm…No, I don’t think so. You were very disobedient. You
need to be punished.”

Eli’s eyes widened at that, but Dante didn’t give his mate time to

even process what he’d said. He flipped Eli on all fours, tightening
the invisible bindings around the elf’s wrists as he did so. “You came
without being allowed to,” he whispered, working his digits into Eli’s

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anus once more. “You broke the spell I had on you. That’s an
extremely serious crime.”

With his free hand, he caressed the curve of Eli’s ass. “I should

leave you as you are, but that would defeat the purpose of this
lesson.” As he spoke, he added a third finger into Eli’s passage,
moving them in and out of his mate’s body with relentless intensity.
The first two digits had gone in with more ease, but now, Eli’s body
protested a little. “Remember now, that it doesn’t matter what you
want. You’re surrendering to my will, and you are mine.”

“Yes, Master,” Eli replied. “Oh, sweet Mother Earth, yes.”
A part of Dante wanted to stop this and just bury his dick inside

Eli like they both clearly desired. But he didn’t. Instead, he slipped in
a fourth finger. Eli gasped, having obviously not expected that. It was
really a tight fit, and with the only lubricant being Eli’s own cum,
likely quite difficult for the elf to take. But still, Dante didn’t stop.
The rhythm of Eli’s heartbeat reached his ears so loudly. Eli’s words
became incoherent mumbles, and yes, Mother Earth, yes, he was
enjoying it so much that his pleasure burned over Dante’s skin.

And then, Dante pushed his thumb in, as well, and slowly, ever so

slowly, his entire fist. Watching Eli’s hole stretched around his hand
was almost surreal, beautiful, kinky, arousing Dante’s every
possessive instinct. This time, when he moved, he did so gently. He
could have easily hurt Eli in this situation, especially if he summoned
his claws, but Dante wouldn’t even dream of that. He was careful,
exploiting all the potential of what he was doing, but still remaining
mindful of Eli’s limits.

Even if it must have been difficult for Eli, the elf didn’t complain.

Dante decided a little reminder was in order, just in case. “Remember
you can say your safe word at any time,” he said, gentling his voice.
“You won’t disappoint me.”

Eli didn’t immediately answer. Dante waited patiently,

understanding Eli’s difficulties. Then, just as Dante thought Eli
wouldn’t be able to reply, Eli said, “I remember. I’m just so…yours.”

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Each syllable was punctuated by a gasp, but Dante got the

message. It came through loud and clear. Dante worked his hand in
and out of Eli’s body a few more times, just as slowly, and then
pulled out his fist.

By now, Eli seemed practically mad with lust. Dante couldn’t

deny either of them any longer. Positioning his cock at Eli’s opening,
he slowly pushed inside. He kept the same slow rhythm, knowing that
Eli was likely feeling the strain from the fisting. But he needn’t have
worried, because Eli’s body swallowed him right up almost greedily.
The elf released a small sob, and in it, Dante heard ecstasy, pleasure,
and relief.

As he bottomed out inside Eli, Dante couldn’t help but crave to

see Eli’s golden’s eyes. It was those lovely orbs he had fallen in love
with first, when he’d seen them so full of determination and desire.
Needing to reacquaint himself with their beauty, Dante maneuvered
Eli onto his back, somehow managing to do so without even
dislodging his dick from his lover’s body.

When he faced Eli, he was left dumbstruck by the sheer bliss on

Eli’s face. If he’d had any doubts that Eli truly enjoyed every second
of what they’d been doing, just that look would have definitely settled
it. Dante became the slave of the love and the pleasure in Eli’s golden
gaze. He couldn’t have stopped himself to save his life.

Never once looking away from Eli’s face, Dante pulled out, then

thrust back in. He already knew Eli’s body as well as he did his own,
so he angled his dick just right, hitting Eli’s prostate as he moved.

At first, he kept a gentler rhythm, but gradually, he intensified the

pace. There was no more teasing now, just pure rapture, the ecstasy of
finally being on with his mate. At first, Eli met his every motion, but
as Dante sped up, he fell into the naturally submissive head space that
seemed to come so easily for him. Each of Dante’s punishing strokes
drew small cries from the elf, and every time he heard those beautiful
sounds, Dante’s passion soared higher and higher. It was a vicious

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circle, urging him onward, deeper, demanding that he take more of
Eli, always more. He was greedy for Eli, unable to get enough.

They both became receptacles of the flame of desire building

between them, threatening to consume them. Dante’s fangs dropped
as his need for his mate started to win the battle against his control.
Fortunately, this time around, he didn’t have to be strong. He could
lose himself in Eli, just like Eli could lose himself in Dante.

And then, Eli exposed his throat, his surrender a sweet aphrodisiac

that made Dante’s head spin. Without further hesitation, Dante struck,
burying his fangs in Eli’s flesh.

He had fed from Eli before, but never quite like this. As sweet

blood flooded his mouth, Dante felt a bond click into place, like a
string tying him and Eli together. To a certain extent, it had already
existed, but now, it became so powerful that Dante could feel it
physically. For a few beautiful moments, he saw every thought in
Eli’s mind, felt the full expanse of Eli’s pleasure.

It was too much. Thrusting one more time inside his mate, Dante

came. As he filled his mate with his seed, a new wave of pleasure
flowed over him as Eli found his peak as well. Wet heat splashed
against Dante’s stomach, and Dante groaned as Eli’s climax
prolonged his own.

It went on and on, with Dante and Eli united in the deepest way

two people could possibly be. At last, mindful of Eli’s well-being,
Dante released his mate’s neck and licked the wound to prevent
excessive blood loss. He slipped out of Eli’s body and released the
bindings holding Eli captive.

Instantly, Eli’s arms went around him and pulled him in for a kiss.

Dante went with it, happy to comply. As their mouths met, Dante
whispered in Eli’s mind, “I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Eli replied. “Thank you for everything you’ve

given me.”

Dante smiled to himself. Eli might be grateful to him, but Dante

knew the truth. He was the lucky one, and the one who’d been granted

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Epilogue

A few weeks later

The Tachakan throne room was filled to the brim with various

nobles, Kin Lords, and clerics. From the throne, Aran scanned all of
their faces, distantly wondering how they would react to the decision
he planned to announce. Not that he particularly cared about what
protests they might put up. Of course some of them would complain.
But this was too important for Aran to let anyone stand in his way.

To his right, Gideon, Dante, and Eli stood together, their

expressions completely impassive. Aran was pleased to see Dante and
Eli holding hands, in spite of the public nature of the event. If anyone
was uncomfortable with Dante’s relationship with the elf, they knew
better than to show it.

Since he preferred not to prolong an uncomfortable situation for

longer than strictly necessary, Aran finally spoke out. “Welcome. I’m
extremely pleased to have you all in my home once more. I will keep
this announcement brief, as all of you undoubtedly will have many
things to handle on your respective domains.” He paused for effect,
pointing out that yes, what he planned to say would make their jobs a
little harder. “As you undoubtedly know, I was recently the recipient
of an unfortunate attack. The guilty parties have been arrested and
will be subjected to trial. However, while recovering from my
injuries, I was fortunate enough to meet with Lord Sorr Starburst,
leader of the Manturanael light elves.”

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Several of the Kin Lords began to fidget restlessly. Of course they

must have known about Aran’s stay in the elven lands, but hearing it
from their Imperator’s mouth was a different thing altogether.

“Lord Starburst and I have agreed on a truce between our two

nations,” Aran continued. “We will in fact cooperate to enhance elven
understanding of the bloodkin lifestyle and to help bloodkin advance
beyond their current limitations.”

He stopped speaking, knowing that his people would undoubtedly

have a lot of questions. Predictably, one of the elder Kin Lords took
the offered chance and asked, “If I may, Your Majesty, what exactly
will this cooperation entail?”

“As you well know, with our ever-increasing population, the

problem of resource management has appeared,” Aran explained.
“Our people are growing restless because, as things stand, the supply
of blood is quickly dwindling, and the Covenant prevents them from
taking it from where it is easily accessible. Since we’ve long
established that the humans shouldn’t have to suffer because of
bloodkin ways, we are coming up with alternative solutions to the
situation. At this time, nothing is certain, but you will be notified once
revisions to current policies are made.”

He didn’t say that he already had a pretty good idea of what the

new policies would be. Its unfortunate causes aside, his visit to
Manturanael had proven to be very informative. Once he’d gotten
through to Sorr, the elf had also become very cooperative, obviously
realizing that everyone would benefit from peace. Of course, Aran
had been quite convincing in a more…private way, but that wasn’t
something the Kin Lords needed to know about.

His vague reply must have clearly pointed out that he would

accept no protest on this. As he swept his gaze over the crowd, he met
each gaze and pinned them with his stare. He’d survived one
assassination attempt, and was stronger than ever now. If anyone
dared to question him, they’d be sorry.

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“Now, for any other inquiries in this regard, you can consult my

youngest son and his mate. They will act as liaisons between our two
peoples.”

Several Kin Lords glanced at Dante and Eli, but the two showed

no reaction to Aran’s words. Aran had, of course, informed them in
advance of his decision, and both young men had been thrilled to
participate in this project that might very well change the world as
they knew it.

“For domestic matters, speak with Prince Gideon,” Aran added.

“Should you have pressing concerns, he will arrange for a private
meeting with me. You are all dismissed.”

One by one, the bloodkin nobles left the throne room, until only

Gideon, Dante, and Eli remained. Aran sighed heavily. This had
honestly been very easy compared to what he was about to do.

“Gideon, bring them in,” he ordered his oldest son.
“Yes, Father,” Gideon replied. “At once.”
As it turned out, Gideon had proven to be invaluable in Dante and

Aran’s absence. With Vane and Cole’s assistance, he had controlled
the Kin Lords and quieted the rumors before they reached the
population and caused instability. Since returning from Manturanael,
Aran made it his business to include Gideon more in every decision.
He knew that his older son didn’t fully understand his current
mindset, but he could be taught.

Gideon left the throne room through a side door and returned

shortly after with Valerian and Antemia in tow. Vane and Cole
accompanied them, as well as a good number of guards.

Valerian was very pale, and likely, it was only in part due to his

previous condition. In the end, with a lot of effort from the elves, he
had recovered as well, although not as quickly as Aran. Now that he
was better, though, Aran had to face a decision he truly hated taking.

“You committed treason,” he began without preamble. “The

penalty for it is death. Tell me one reason why I should spare you.
Each of you have one minute.”

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“I don’t think you should spare me,” Valerian said, straightening

his back. “I don’t want to die, but it is our way and I understand the
consequences of my actions. At the time, I thought I was doing the
right thing. If I’d live through it again, I’d probably make similar
choices.”

“You don’t trust me as Imperator,” Aran said. “Well, at the very

least you’re honest. Antemia?”

“Let’s not play this game, Aran,” she said. “We both know that,

while you might be considering sparing your son, I’m already dead. I
gambled and I lost. I was a fool to trust a child. I realize that now.”

Valerian threw her an ugly look but didn’t say anything. However,

much to Aran’s surprise, Gideon intervened. “Could I have one
moment of your time, Majesty?”

“Speak, Gideon,” Aran said. “What’s on your mind?”
Gideon took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something.

“Valerian is right in that it has always been our way for treason to be
punished with death. But we are changing those ways. We’ve reached
out to the elves. Why not change this as well?”

Aran was pleasantly surprised by Gideon’s comment. “Valerian

and Antemia would argue that it would be weak of me,” he answered.

“Weakness is relative,” Gideon shot back. “I’ve been…I’ve spent

a lot of time with several of Your Majesty’s new allies, and I’m
beginning to understand things are not always as I thought they
were.”

“Indeed. Power is an abstract concept that can have many

meanings.” Aran smiled at his first born. “Very good, Gideon. I will
grant your request. Your mother and your brother shall live.”

Aran turned toward Valerian, pinning him with his gaze. “Do not

think I have forgotten what you’ve done. I have forgiven Dante for a
similar deed, but his actions were born out of desperation. At this
point, you still genuinely believe that you’d be a better Imperator than
me. As such, you are a danger for me and Tachaka’s stability.” He got
up from the throne and came to stand in front of Valerian. “My

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169

decision is made. Both you and Antemia will be imprisoned,
indefinitely.”

Valerian clenched his fists, obviously not happy about his

sentence. Perhaps it would have been easier for him to accept death,
rather than this absolute deprivation of freedom. But this was Aran’s
choice, not Valerian’s, and his son had to obey.

Still, because he loved his son and hated having to do this, Aran

hugged Valerian and kissed his forehead. “Perhaps one day, you will
understand why I am doing this,” he whispered. “And when that day
comes, both of us will be free.”

Saying more would give Valerian power over him, so he released

the younger bloodkin from his embrace and turned toward the guards.
“Take them away to the tower. I want them placed under permanent,
heavy guard.”

“Yes, Majesty,” one of the soldiers replied. “At once.”
As Valerian and Antemia were led out, Aran was left in the

company of his other two sons, the Bloodmoor brothers, and Eli.
“Well, at least we have that out of the way,” he told them idly.

“Indeed,” Eli replied. “Can I ask you a question, Your Majesty?”
“Of course, Eli,” Aran replied. Eli’s cautious tone made him quite

curious.

Much to his surprise, Eli pulled him aside, looking a little

apprehensive at the presence of Gideon and the Bloodmoors. Aran
made an impatient gesture. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell me. I trust
the people here.”

“All right.” Eli bit his lip, then blurted out, “What is it with you

and my father?”

Aran couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. “That, my dear Eli,

is knowledge for another day. For the moment, just be sure that the
two of us cooperate very well.”

Eli looked like he wanted to ask something else, but Dante

intervened, pulling him in for a kiss. And as the elf melted in Dante’s
embrace, Aran knew without a doubt that his plan would work. Dante

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and Eli were the best example that elves didn’t have to be at odds
with bloodkin. Whether the happy couple knew it or not, they had
paved the way for a better, brighter future for them all.

THE END

WWW.SCARLETHYACINTH.WEBS.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A native Romanian, Scarlet was born in 1986 and grew up an avid

fan of Karl May and Jules Verne, reading fantasy stories and
adventure. Later, when she was out of fantasy stories to read, she
delved into her mother’s collection of books and, of course, stumbled
onto romance.

As a writer though, Scarlet Hyacinth was born one sunny summer

day, when a dear friend of hers—the same friend who introduced her
to GLBT fiction—proposed they start writing a story of their own. As
it turns out, the two friends never did finish that particular story, but
Scarlet discovered she had a knack for writing and ended up starting
to write individually. And so, between working on her dissertation,
studying for exams, and reading yaoi manga, she started writing the
Kaldor Saga. Along the way, Scarlet met a lot of wonderful people
who supported her, and in the end, she found her story a home and, in
the process, fulfilled a beautiful dream.

For all titles by Scarlet Hyacinth, please visit