She traced her fingers over this hardened length. “Good.”
Falcon stilled her hand. “I’m not a Black Knight.”
Sonya sat up. Her arousal instantly replaced by anger. “Did Hadrian strip you of your title?”
“No. Silvie did.”
Sonya felt her brows knit together in a deep frown. “I’m lost.”
“Weeks before my king’s coordination, Silvie went to Hadrian before your capture and asked that he place me in her charge. Apparently, I’m the personal guard of the Shaw Priestess.”
Laughter bubbled inside her. “Seriously? So, we were never breaking any laws.”
“This past week, every time I denied us was for naught.”
Sonya fell to the mattress, with a huff. “All the sexual torment we suffered. Damn. We could have been hooking up all this time.”
Falcon turned onto his side. Cupping her face, he stroked his thumb over her jaw line. “Oh, love. It has all been worth the wait.”
Sonya curled into him. Her breasts flattened against his chest. His erection pressed against her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair. Falcon cupped her nape and brushed his lips softly across her cheek. Need ignited within her.
“Falcon, do you know the title given to those who serve as guardians of the Shaw?” she asked, biting her lip. Sonya tried not to giggle.
“No.”
“White Knights.”
He groaned. “Really?”
A light laugh escaped her. “Yes. I think it suits you.” She kissed his chin. “You rescued me from the evil witches.” Sonya kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re my white night.”
“And you are my wicked king.”
Falcon captured her lips with a long, passionate kiss.
Epilogue
Gabriel knelt before the line of Clan Chieftains. His fist firmly pressed over his heart, his head hung low. The chill of the cell’s stone floor seeped into his bones. Upon his arrival to the Validus strong hold high in the Carpathian Mountains, he and Gannon had been escorted to the underground dungeon. Gabriel had loudly, yet politely, demanded to speak with the rulers. Apparently, he and Gannon weren’t the only unwanted and untrusted guests in residents. He had overheard some of the guards speaking of Red Order Counsel members who recently lost their leader and were now seeking peace with the vampires. He rolled his eyes. Keep dreaming.
Dimitri, the last remaining pure blood of the vampire line, broke ranks and came to stand before him. Gabriel kept his gaze directed at the floor, he didn’t even glance towards the shinning leather tips of Dimitri’s shoes.
“The Clans were established by the four original vampires. Their fledgling all united by blood,” Dimitri stated, his authoritative voice echoed through the dungeon.
Gabriel remained silent. He may be an outcaste, but he knew the rulers. The Madame had instructed him well. Unless he was granted permission to speak or asked a direct question, he would hold his tongue. Gannon followed his lead, like always.
“He displayed incredible bravery for coming here,” Sonya said. Her voice was distant. Gabriel assumed she stood by the dungeon’s stairs.
“Or incredible stupidity,” Hadrian drawled, his tone bland.
“A new Clan.” Gabriel could practically hear Dorian shake his head.
“Made up of Outcastes?” Sonya asked. “They are criminals.”
“Not all,” Dimitri corrected. Gabriel could feel the ancient vampire’s ice like gaze upon him. Burning him. “Some are blood bastards.”
“Explain your purpose for wanting to form a new Clan, Gabriel,” Dorian commanded.
Gabriel swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. He could barely breathe. Keeping his head down, he explained, “The Outcaste Society has been lawless for too long. I seek to unite the outcastes and put an end to the infighting and the victimization and mindless slaughter of mortals.”
“A noble cause,” Hadrian mused.
Dorian came to stand beside Dimitri. “If we are to grant your request, would you seek our military aid in uniting the outcastes?”
“I pray that won’t be necessary,” Gabriel answered.
“You understand that by reciting your vows and becoming king that you will be subject to the Death Curse,” Sonya pointed out. “You will need to choose an heir.”
Gabriel nodded. He was fully aware of the consequences of his decision. He had lived long enough and he viewed the Death Curse as a get out of jail free card.
“What linage do you claim?” Hadrian asked.
He inwardly cringed. “Lady Ingrid Hjort.” Gabriel swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. It had been centuries since her name crossed his lips. It nearly choked him.