Endangered Ch. 08

"You don't know what you want, you're too young." She couldn't hold his piercing gaze as she denied him, his look of hurt was too much. "I could never leave if you changed your mind. Besides, I'm indebted to another."

She resisted when he cupped her chin but he wouldn't have any of it, exerting his considerable strength against her. She could have answered with her own and fought him easily enough but it would be childish. He waited until their eyes had met for several moments before speaking again.

"I know exactly what I want. Everyone tells me to stop fighting my instincts, here I am. I would do anything for you, Lillian. You are a beautiful, caring person underneath your mask. I will buy your debt to Reyla, even offer myself instead if I must. I've missed you every day that you aren't with me this last month. I want you, Lillian, and I know we'll be perfect together."

What was left of her jaded, human heart broke. All her promises to ensnare him, to taste his blood, to fuck him, to steal him away for her own and break her bond with Reyla came flooding forward. Her chance was now, offering himself without condition. But she was a wicked, evil creature. She was the spawn cast aside by the dark aggressors of that ancient war. Her inner beast snarled in rage as she exerted her will into a resolution against everything that she was. This pure creature of unimaginable magic and goodness would not be tainted and destroyed by her. He would certainly not be allowed to offer himself to Reyla in her place. That would be unacceptable for she knew the elf would take such a deal in a heartbeat and the dragon would be lost to her forever.

"I can't, not yet," it sounded weak even to her. Their bodies still clung to each other desperately though she was starting to regain control over her base desires.

"Liar," he growled, hurt to have her reject him even after his admission.

"I can't," the steel was back in her voice and she used her strength to step away, breaking his grip on her buttocks. "I'm sorry it's come to this."

"Lillian... No, please." Now he sounded weak and her already throbbing heart felt like someone had thrust a silver knife deep inside. His feelings were genuine, she knew this. He truly wanted her, vampire and all. It nearly broke her resolve to see him like this, so ruined.

She had to get away, was on the verge of flying back into his embrace.

"We can't be trusted with each other. It is the only way, I will demand a replacement from Reyla tomorrow morning. We can say goodbye, but after tonight you won't see me again."

The very thought of never seeing her, never hearing her adorable Russian accent, never being close to her again sent anguish to sear his pounding heart. Tears formed in his eyes, blurring her. He blinked them away hurriedly, afraid she would use her magic to disappear altogether.

He reached out but her telekinetic power stopped him in his tracks, used against him for the first time outside of training.

"Lillian!" he almost choked, his throat was constricting painfully.

"Enough!" she barked harshly. "I will see you safely back to the hotel this evening and then you and I will be done. It is for your own good. Now get a grip on your concealment before someone shows up."

She was gone, pushing past him and fading in his senses, invisible.

"I won't give up on you," he hoped desperately that she was still listening.

***

Lauren led the heartbroken young dragon back to the others. Having witnessed the entire thing, from the panty soaking first kiss to the spiralling abyss of rejection, she should be jumping with joy. The juicy gossip she could share would have her entertained for weeks but she just felt too bad for the sweet young man. Already, she knew she would be keeping this to herself.

His beautiful entourage quickly surrounded the distraught dragon, extracting a stammered version of events even as he was still struggling with excessively moist eyes. Thankfully no one was tactless enough to suggest collecting the dragon's tears, though Susan would have had to admit to being a little tempted.

Rufus was more than a little concerned for his cousin but ordered a round of shots, his finest tequila, and offered the use of his booth to them for the rest of the night. Hosting complete for the time being, he went off to have a word with his cousin. He wanted to hear her side of things. Surely giving the young dragon a roll in the hay would be easier on everyone than this disaster. He knew Lillian wasn't averse to a casual fuck. If this somehow came back badly against vampires there would be hell to pay, the Vampire Council was very interested in this particular dragon. So was everyone else.

Michelle offered everybody who wasn't part of their brood an apology for bringing the tone of the evening down and asked that they be given a little space. Soon the curtain was drawn across the front of the booth and what was going on could only be guessed at by curious onlookers.

Inside, everyone took turns trying to console him and he soon enough pulled his shit together externally. Internally was a different story altogether. His shit was all fucked up, a huge shit-tornado ploughing through his feelings. It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside.

His dragon was keening sorrowfully. It was so tempting to just phase out of there and fly away. Petra and Claire would come, keeping pace with him as he fled from the wreckage of his unrequited love. A glance at the two dragonesses only made him feel worse, their support and concern practically radiated around them booth. All of his brood shared his pain, sending their feelings of love and comfort his way, even little Immi, who hugged as much of him as she could get her arms around.

Only Annabel's face betrayed her anger, which he quickly worked out was directed at Lillian, not himself.

He was so lucky to have them. Flying away to escape would be so unfair. Perhaps the cowardly act could wait until tomorrow and simply be used to distract him and dull his hurt.

He wasn't sure what to do. Should he leave now and abandon Lauren's party? Should he wait until they were the last people in the joint so no one else would see him? Should he teleport them all to Antarctica and live out the rest of his days as an honorary emperor penguin?

In the end he took a shot glass of the offensive smelling liquor from the tray in the middle of the booth and downed it.

He never did manage to get his concealment back up.

***

The club was winding down when they did finally leave. Chris was starting to sober up which didn't help how he felt. The numbness of alcohol and comfort of holding his loved ones close had acted like a Band-Aid, which was now being pulled off rather slowly.

They would be walking back to the hotel, obviously Chris was in no state to be attempting a teleport. Immi was already squeezed into a backpack Rufus had lent Annabel, safe from prying eyes for the journey home.

As they approached the main entrance of the club, he could sense Lillian, waiting for them in the shadows ever mindful of her duties.

Chris wondered if Reyla would really remove her as his guardian. He almost hoped she wouldn't but that would be too cruel a fate for the vampire. Despite the animosity between the two powerful women, he feared that if it really came down to it; Reyla would have to give in or lose Lillian as an asset altogether. If only that stupid bloodpact could be nullified maybe he and Lillian could... He had to stop. She had made her choice, he could respect that even if he didn't agree.

"Please come out, Lillian. I won't make a scene. I promise." He spoke softly to the patch of darkness he knew contained her.

Her form appeared silently and any tiny hope he'd had that she'd miraculously changed her mind was shattered forever. Her features were deadpan, showing no hint of emotion whatsoever.

Thankfully, Annabel managed to keep her anger bottled up tight and the rest of his brood looked almost sympathetically at the vampire. She'd been a part of their family, a friend. It hurt to lose her.

"Let's go," was all Lillian said before turning and walking out the door onto the well-lit street, looking as devastating as ever in her skin tight red dress.

Chris sighed heavily and followed, mindful that a group of tipsy humans were waiting behind them to get out.

Something tickled in the back of his mind as his foot came down on the sidewalk. He stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he looked up sharply. Lillian also had her hackles raised, watching tensely for anything amiss. His arm shot out backwards, warding off Annabel as she came through the door. Something was wrong, his dragon knew it.

"Chris wha..." Annabel asked.

Tyres squealed slightly as a vehicle came to life and accelerated hard from down the street. He couldn't see it in the path of any street lights. Chris watched as Lillian turned her head towards the noise, he saw the intent, predatory focus on her face.

The side of her head exploded.

A dull thump-whistle followed, sounding loud in his enhanced senses as his world closed in. It couldn't be real, her body losing its life, falling limply to the concrete. A deep, bone-aching cold settled upon him.

"Lillian!" Annabel screamed, watching horrified as a mist of blood and gore began to settle on the sidewalk.

Lillian, his friend, his teacher, his protector, his family. His brood. She was his brood, and she was dead.

Anger warmed him dangerously, like the hot exhaust of a weed whacker in the middle of a summer drought. His chest burned hot with fury. Thankfully the vampire's days of training began kicking in, he assessed. He had to do this quietly, no big scene. The club's enchantment should protect his actions at least a little bit. Strange, he sensed no magic other than that first tickle when they'd walked out into the street.

"Stay back, all of you! Annabel, shield! Like we practiced." He rushed forward to crouch near the fallen vampire, heedless of his own safety.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Annabel tried to concentrate on sending her thoughts to Bartholomew. It didn't help that she was still a little tipsy. And Lillian. Lillian was gone. She'd been so angry with her after what they'd shared. She'd thought it had been clear she would join them eventually.

Screams echoed in the club as someone behind, curious at the commotion, caught a glimpse of the blood splattered pavement.

Annabel hoped to god that the enchantments around the club would hold up to this level of pressure. What she was about to do could get them all in serious trouble.

Lillian's body lay on its side, not even twitching. Chris could see the wound, blood and brain matter seeping into her hair, flecks of broken skull arrayed like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. No one would be putting this one back together.

Michelle stuck her head out of the doorway for an instant, assessing the situation. Not a moment too soon she pulled it back inside and another muffled shot rang out, splintering the wood next to where her head had been. More screams rang out from inside.

Michelle put two and two together.

"Chris! They're trying to snatch you, come back here now!" There was a reason the sniper wasn't shooting at him.

A white transit van screeched to a halt in front of him. The door slid open and Chris was facing three gun barrels.

"Bartholomew, please," Annabel whispered desperately. "I need you."

A warm breeze brushed her cheek, a confident, calming aura washed over her. Her back straightened automatically.

"Feel for him, Mistress. Be clear in your intent, calm. You have done this before. I will lend my strength," Immi's beating wings ruffled her hair as the sprite alighted on her shoulder.

It gave Annabel a huge boost to know her companion and teacher was there to support her. She felt the little tattoo, agitated, afraid, unsure what to do. She embraced him, feeling their very essence merge. Immi was right, they had practiced this before. The rest came easily back to her and she stepped out onto the street.

Anyone watching would have thought she was insane. A tiny shimmer in the air around her was the only clue to her intention.

"Come with us peacefully and no one else dies," spoke one of the men behind a balaclava.

Chris' eyes flashed pure hatred their way just as he felt Annabel's shield pass over and envelope him.

"You killed Lillian, you're fucking dead." The coolness in his voice was not his own. He was all dragon.

"Our sniper has your girlfriend here in his sights, don't do anything stupid," the man reasoned, his voice uncompromising.

Immi giggled, an entirely unsettling tremor of high pitched mirth.

"Fuck this! Tranq 'em and take the girl down!" one of the others cried out as he got a look at Immi. "We don't know what the fuck that thing is."

Their leader quickly brought up a strange pistol, firing it with a thump. At the same time, another dull, silenced crack zipped down the street from the high-powered rifle.

A large dome of air shimmered purple on the sidewalk as the startled attackers watched their tranquiliser dart freeze in the air, barely five inches in front of its intended target. It fell to the ground. Over to Annabel's right a heavy 7.62mm pill ricocheted into a nearby car with an angry snarl.

Chris leered evilly back at them.

"Shit!" The leader with the tranquiliser gun dropped it to the floor of the van and drew a pistol, fear beginning to cloud his judgement.

The target vanished into thin air. His teammates fired out of instinct, their machine pistols belching out a hail of bullets towards the girl and the tiny blue woman. Thin propellant haze hung in the confined van as bullets skimmed, rebounded and were even stopped dead in their tracks by the strobing purple dome.

"Jesus fuck, my ears!" The van's driver screamed as the guns clicked empty after barely two seconds of automatic fire.

"Bad boys!" Immi's high-pitched cackle was the stuff of nightmares. "Were you trying to hurt little old me?"

Their shell casings could be heard rolling out of the van onto the street with a faint tinkling.

"Fuck it. Abort. Get us out of here!" the leader roared, covering the girl and the small blue woman with his pistol as his teammates began reloading.

"I don't think so."

Chris merged back into the Norm almost instantaneously nowadays.

From the passenger's seat of the van, he slammed the heel of his palm against the drivers unsuspecting temple. As if that wasn't enough, the force of the blow propelled his head into the driver's window, shattering the safety glass into a thousand pieces.

There wouldn't be any more sniper fire. Two hundred yards away, in a bedroom on the third floor of an old apartment building, a man lay hunched over his rifle. He was still, his neck cricked at an impossible angle.

The leader brought his pistol to bear just in time to see his target in the front seat vanish again. His operation was going sideways at an astronomical rate.

That tranquiliser would have put him down for the count for sure, it was some black-market shit. If only they'd managed to hit him with it... he dropped his pistol and dove out onto into the gutter. Behind him, a muffled shriek spelled the demise of another of his teammates. He rolled and came up crouched, drawing the carbon-black combat knife from his thigh sheath. No one had seemed to notice him pick up the tranquiliser dart, the shield-girl was backing away warily towards her beckoning friends.

"Leave him for Chris," Michelle urged Annabel back into the relative safety of the doorway.

Annabel shrank her shield back with her and Michelle stepped forward to shelter her in case the knife wielder lunged forward. She needn't have bothered. Chris prowled out of the van like a vengeful jungle cat, his large, sinuous body radiating power.

Behind them, Petra, Claire, Hailey, and Susan were trying to calm the people inside the club and direct them towards the emergency exit into the alley. People were crying and screaming, worked into a frenzy by the roar of automatic gunfire. There were a few game souls who, in panic, attempted to flee out the main door into the middle of the firefight and had to be forced back.

"Make sure he stays alive," Michelle ordered Chris, halting his advance on the man, who stood boldly stalwart against the vengeful beast.

The man in question wondered that such a creature could be contained in this masquerade of a young man.

Having reconsidered his assault, the dragon attacked. He sprang forward, pressing the balaclava wearing knife-wielder instantly into retreat. He pressed again, throwing a punch the man should see coming. Half way into the blow, as the man was already reaching to slice his underarm with that wicked blade, he phased. A micro-teleportation later in the bland looking Ether, he merged back, wrapping one arm around the man's throat from behind, squeezing. His other hand applied inhuman strength to the man's knife wielding wrist, bones crunched. The weapon clattered uselessly into the gutter.

The already weakening man's breath left him in a strangled cry of pain, but not before he jabbed his non-ruined arm against Chris' thigh.

Chris felt the prick of the needle in his thick quadricep but was unable to do anything about it for a few seconds as he struggled the last of the man's strength away. When the body went limp, Chris put him down rather unceremoniously and yanked the fluffy-tailed dart out.

He stared at it, eyes blinking heavily.

"Shit," he slurred, "I've... Lillian..."

His huge body lurched forwards, the dart dropping from his grip as he staggered the few steps to the vampire's corpse. He slumped to his knees.

"I'm s..ssorry, I'm sorry," he could barely speak, and his vision was starting to fade at the edges. Maybe it would be nice to drown this all out for a while?

Someone rushed over to the unconscious man to check on him. Michelle.

"She yet lives, Master," the sprite chirped in his ear, her cheerful timbre coming out of nowhere. He hadn't even noticed her land at his side.

"Wha... What?!" Chris' mind rallied against the seductive heaviness falling over him.

"Yes, though grievously wounded, her head has not been severed from her neck. The wound is not infected with silver. Lillian may recover if she drinks enough blood right away. Of course, your blood would be preferable, if anyone could heal her it would be you. Time is of the essence."

"Her brr... her brain," Chris mumbled sleepy disbelief. Immi seemed far away, speaking through a badly connected phone.

"Your blood can save her!" The sprite shouted up at him almost petulantly. "Stupid dragon."

Chris looked down at the sprite, confused, comprehension only just starting to seep in.

A siren could be heard approaching. He had to get her out of here but he just couldn't. He was so tired.

"Go master, I will watch over the others." The sprite reached out her tiny finger and a zap of crackling energy arced out to the skin of his forearm.

Chris' head shot up like he'd been jabbed with a cattle prod. A temporary surge of the sprite's energy reanimating his sluggish nerves. He barely had the focus necessary to cradle Lillian in his arms, let alone teleport with her. Where would he go? She was covered in so much blood, she would drink his blood. Would it be messy? Focus. A bath?

He gathered his energy and pulled her deathly body into the Ether with him.

A tiny pop heralded his merge back. He stumbled into the wall of the bathroom, mashing at the light switch with his shoulder. Thankfully, it came on with a yellow glow as he swayed over to the huge semi triangular bathtub. He stepped inside as gracefully as possible, which wasn't saying much in his condition. Immi's little jolt was wearing off quickly.