Crimson Reign by J.T. Cheyanne, V.L. Moon Page A

muscle turned and strolled into the small private chapel Malachi Denali had commissioned for him on the very same day the new vampire King claimed his throne. Distracted, Arial nearly choked on his tongue when the low wasted jeans Laziel wore slipped down further to reveal the rhinestone encrusted strip of a bright pink G-string.
    Rolling his eyes, Arial tried desperately to dislodge the visual seeping into his brain. The stories he'd heard from the King’s own race were enough to make what was left of his wings tremble. Laziel had always been different. Arial knew the celestial to be unique. Being Seraphim, the angel held no apparent sexual gender and could shift between female and male. But, he'd never pegged the warrior elite for a masochist. But then, Arial relinquished a sigh. We just can’t help who we fall for.
    Malachi Denali might be the vampire King, but that held no light in comparison to the depth of the bond shared between the vampire and Laziel. Like the proverbial Earth rotating around the sun, they were orbits to each other’s souls. A very endearing quality considering the King’s addiction to the angel’s blood. The predilection seemed to strengthen their mutual desire for each other. Fuck, what Arial wouldn't give to find that sort of inner peace. The righteous connection to another that joined two as one. A soul mate. Of course, for Arial there would be no such thing. He was fallen, doomed to an eternity on Earth until the one he hunted redeemed him of his sins.
    Standing before the marble altar, Arial eyed the ornate sculpture of their Creator before shame rose inside of him and he quickly turned away. “There is no shame in what your heart desires Arial, only in that you refuse to accept it.”
    “Get out my head, Laziel. Do not presume I won't find him. I will. I have to. Then and only then, when I have bathed in its blood and cleansed myself of its evil impurity will I be able to ask for my rightful redemption.” Arial scowled and watched as Laziel’s heated gaze poured scorn over Arial's fallen demise.
    “You are wrong, my brother. Tis not scorn I afflict on you, but the disbelief in your theory. If we as celestials were not supposed to feel the beauty of love then I myself should wear the same shame you burden yourself with, should I not?”
    “I stand before you as I have done for many a year my friend, ruined and shamed by the burden of my will. Yet, you still title me with the affiliation of your blood, your brother. When our own Creator and my own kin renounce me, you do not. For that, and the gift of the service you offered unto me, I offer you and your King my eternal loyalty. Know I shall never endear to befall thee.” Pride was a rueful quality, one Arial still held in abundance.
    “I'm glad to hear it, and so is Laziel. Now, Arial, my friend, pray tell us what brings you into our wicked graces. Have you news?” The King’s voice instantly commanded the attention of the room with his precise enunciation accented more by his Italian flare.
    Dressed impeccably as usual and attired solely in black, the King, was the epitome of the fictional vampire portrayed in present day romance novels. The biggest difference was Malachi Denali would never fit within the romantic fables foretelling of whimsical female fantasy and love. With penetrating dark eyes, he possessed a fathomless stare cold enough to chill even the hardiest of warriors. He wielded the strength of Braun and a presence that overtook any room he entered. The vampire King was no one’s idea of Prince Charming. Arial could reel off a list the words to describe the male’s appearance and persona, but only two really signified the dark untamed depths of Laziel’s vampire. Feral and malevolent in every extreme, the King and Laziel were an unholy duo vindicated by the heavens.
    Their ferocity didn't forestall them from having enemies. If anything, the unity of their bond and their radical reforms to strengthen the vampire race