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

instigated vehemence in the ranks. The Elders dared not stand against their true blooded King. But that didn't stop the whisperings of unease, or the blatant disregard by the odd right wing extremists who thought they knew best. Shoring himself up for what was to be an intriguing evening, Arial awaited instruction from his brother and his liege.
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    Arial didn't sit. Instead, he let the weight of his back settle against the marble altar and listened to Lachi's address. “This God-forsaking cock sucking, son-of-a-bitch is really starting to get up in my face. Not only is he making waves topside by feeding on the humans, now the Pope’s been contacted. Anonymously, of course. Fucking coward, we all know who it is, but we need the damned proof. The fucker’s going to slip and when he does, I’ll rip his motherfucking treasonous head off.”
    Laziel stayed silent, eyes watchful for the encroaching darkness always lurking just beneath the surface. Malachi's eyes glowed an intense pitch black with just the barest flicker of red, a sure fire sign of the rage at war within his head. Arial stayed stoic, unaccustomed to the ferocious beast of Lachi's true form. He had not been introduced to the more acquired side of Lachi's savagery. Laziel felt the Fallen's tempered anxiety and couldn't help the sardonic grin that spread over his face. The fucker needed to be aware, and watchful. God help anyone if Lachi ever lost hold of his will. Even now as the vampire paced, his mind reeled from the news that one of his own kind had seen fit to contact the Pope. The Pope, of all humans.
    The treaty between Nephilim and vampire was a goddamn joke, fractured and more fragile than fine china. The cracks grew wider with each passing century. Nephilim of a darker, more ferocious nature were on the rise. They thought nothing of slaughtering whole enclaves of vampire communities in surprise attacks orchestrated by the same fucking someone that had to be behind the contact with the Pope. The same someone who held direct knowledge of both races.
    Pushing away from his position against the far wall, Laziel cut into Lachi's path and brought the King up short. Lachi’s gaze swept up to Laziel and his nostrils flared as he drew in the angel’s scent. Placing one hand on Lachi's shoulder, Laziel willed his male calm and drew into himself the noxious rise of anger residing inside the vampire.
    “It's as plain to me as the nose on my face. The rise of the Nephilim, the strength of their army, the obscene number of slaughtered vampires, and now the hierarchy of the church being propositioned; we have a traitor, a vampire deranged enough that he’s willing to sell out his own kind and stand cold as their slaughtered remains are brought back in shrouds.” Lachi stilled at Laziel’s words, and Arial moved to join the vampire's side, listening intently as Laziel went through the workings of this latest rise of attacks.
    “It's not a fully thought out plan, and we know the one that’s responsible for this is infiltrating not just the church, but the Nephilim, too. Now, while I think there are many who seek the direct power Lachi has seized for himself, there are few who see sense in challenging what they will never defeat. Lachi is, as we all know, mine in every way, shape and form, a conscript that few would ever endeavor to understand. However, they might think with enough provocation they could somehow bring him down.” Laziel looked over at the two stoic faces and smiled before closing the gap to brush the pad of a broad thumb over the vampire’s hard chiseled jaw.
    “Your race is not a stupid one my liege, and that notion in itself leads me to believe the workings of the mind behind this is unduly troubled. Sick with the ramblings of age and lost to the delusional workings of a bitter angry mind. So much so, that breeching his own personal ethics and pride come second to bringing down the one thing this loathsome character