Kissed by Darkness(33)

His eyes had gone all funny. The icy blue was gone and instead they were glowing and kind of dark yellow. No. Gold. His eyes had gone gold and red. Not red like that vampire’s eyes, but more an orange red, like the flames of a fire. His pupils were narrow slits of greenish black and the gold and orange flames danced around them.

I tried to say something, to ask him why his eyes had changed, but I couldn’t get any words out. I just stared into his eyes while my brain went hazy and the darkness swirled and surged in my blood. I wanted him. I wanted him with a fever that was almost unbearable. I grabbed the front of his shirt and tried to pull him down to me.

He groaned again and I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I might not have been fighting it, but he was. “Morgan, no. Morgan, stop.”

His hands were still on my shoulders, heavy and warm. I didn’t know what it was he wanted me to stop and I didn’t care. I wasn’t in the stopping mood. All I could feel was the rush of pure need, pure desire, surging through my veins like molten lava. I was hot and wet and so ready for him.

I finally found my voice, but it came out all funny. Sort of husky and breathy and not like me at all. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t me, that I wasn’t doing anything, but instead I said in that strange, breathy, not-me voice, “Don’t fight it, Inigo. Don’t fight it.”

He did for half a second before his mouth came crashing down on mine, his hard body pressed up against my softer one as he molded himself around me. Fire surged through me, chasing the darkness. Electricity tingled through my body, desire so strong I thought I’d die from it. Darkness, fire, the little sparkles grew brighter. There was only me and Inigo and our breaths, our mouths, our bodies.

I wrapped myself around him, burying my fingers in his silky hair. His skin nearly burned me with the heat of him. I gave myself over to his kiss, to the feel of him, losing all sense of time as I fell into the sensation of him. And then there was darkness.







In a cave under a plateau in a desert land, I sat, feverishly clutching a golden amulet. The blue stone in the middle glowed weakly, barely lighting the dank earthen walls around me. I’d spent nearly all my remaining energy painting the story of our dying race on the walls of this cave. One day a city would be built on this plateau, a city that would be the center of a thousand conflicts. I, however, would not live to see it.

I swiped at my forehead, my hand came away slick with sweat. The sickness ravaging my body was finally winning, taking over a little at a time. Soon, there would be nothing of me left at all.

The Key was closing. I could feel the protection of its power slipping from me little by little. Soon it would be beyond my reach and the sickness would take over. The last High Priest of Atlantis would be no more. Instead there would be a ravening beast, hungry for blood and for violence.

I’d already witnessed so much violence. Shocking to a man who’d spent his entire life devoted to peace. I clutched the amulet tighter to my chest and felt myself slipping in and out of time. “I am now become Death.” I smiled weakly. I would not be the only one in history to utter such words. I could see this as I had seen so many other things in my lifetime.

And I had become death. I had done my duty as High Priest all too well and now Atlantis and all her people, the last of the full-blooded Atlanteans, lay buried beneath an ocean of rock and lava. I had stopped the disease in its tracks, but at such a cost. Now Varan and his Warriors had only to find and destroy the few humans still carrying the disease, the Nightwalkers. This world would be safe only when every last one lay dead.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the rich scent of earth and sent a prayer winging to gods who refused to answer. It wouldn’t be long now. Surely Varan would come soon with the news that the last of the Royal Bloodline was safe. Only then would my work be done and I could turn the Key over to its new Guardian, my only son, and end this existence with some shred of myself intact.

Please let it have worked. My fingers twitched against the dark blue of my robes, twisting and scrunching the rich fabric. It would take a miracle, but perhaps Varan could deliver that miracle. The most important thing of all was the Bloodline. The Royal Bloodline must be saved. To save the future, to save all that was truly Atlantis, the Bloodline must survive.

There was a scratching sound at the entrance and Varan entered, eyes wild, blood streaking his muscular body. “Quickly, my lord, we must leave. They’ve tracked us!” I hastened toward him, but it was too late. A rumble from outside told the story. A landslide. We were buried inside the cave. The half-blood Warriors and their human allies had done their job far too well.