Blood Moon by Dixie Carnley (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📖

Chapter One

They come in the darkness of the night seemingly floating across the forest floor, demons with skin as white as snow and teeth like twin daggers. Their eyes are filled with a vile hatred while the bodies these demonic presences take being unearthly beautiful. They have power, unlike any I have ever seen, and they live off the blood of others, human and werewolf alike. But, we have tricks up our own sleeves. The voice of nature sings to us, it’s haunting melody like that of our wolf halves. We can make things grow with a single though, and for those belonging in the royal family, we can raise the earth and destroy it, if that is our wish. However, no matter how much I want to fight, I cannot. My people are dying, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
“The last remaining heirs to the throne must stay alive, for the sake of their people.” My mother, Queen Reaghan, explained the night my elder brother died. Dray had been out in the war, fighting along side his people. He was a great warrior, a fierce white wolf who was known simply as the Killer. It was not good enough though, because when his back was turned while helping a fellow pack member, one of the vampires jumped on him. That simple but second quick decision had cost by brother his life, leaving my five year old sister and myself the last blood kin of the Lucian line.
Now, as I walk these blood ridden fields of a battle more recently finished, it amazes me at how many warriors each side is always losing. The death toll is staggering, and only a few fighters are left. Every time I walk these fields, now without my mother’s knowledge, chills tingle up and down my spine as if someone is scrapping a icy dagger along my back. Two different types of blood stain the summer green grass,: the warm crimson blood of the shape shifting wolves and the cold sapphire blood of our enemy vampires. A carrion scented wind blows from the north, swirling my black cloak around my dark brown leather clad legs. Just over the peaks of Passage Mountain, the sun is setting, it’s bright orange presence lighting the sky to a bloody red. A blood curdling scream shrills through the air, full of so much pain and agony, my body recoils. Suddenly, just as the sound started, it stops.
Another soldier is lost to the land of the dead, forever to be but another wonder in our sea of ancestors.
“Tristan.” I say to my best friend. The captain of the royal guard steps forward on cue, worry written on his handsome face. His dark gray eyes are alert and focused but the tender smile that plays on his lips smooth out his harsh expression.
“Yes, Princess Aiyana.” His voice is rough and deep, not at all like the high pitch from his childhood. When I do not acknowledge his presence, he grabs my upper arm gently, turning me gently towards him. Beings that it is just him and me, he pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and resting his head on the black hood that he makes me keep up. “Why do you do this, Aiya?”
“Let us go-” I start, pulling away into the direction of the castle, but another yell sounds in my ears. Instinctually, I jerk in the general direction, my hood falling back to reveal the soft waves of silver that ends at my waist. My silver eyes scan the forest before me, tracking the cry through the thickness of the trees.
“Aiyana,” Tristan warns, reaching for me. Just as his hand brushes my shoulder, I lunge away. The cape flies out behind me, my powerful legs pushing me further and further into the density of the woods. Reaching out, I try over and over again to block the slapping branches from impacting my face, but the effort it useless. I have no concentration right now to will them from my path, so the sharp stings cut across my cheeks and forehead. Behind me, I hear heavy footfalls slam into the leave strewn ground as my friend bounds after me, calling my name over and over. I never slow down.
I can hear the slowing of a heart, a gap the gets wider between each thump. The sickly sweet scent of vampire blood wafts into my nose, threatening to make me sneeze, but I hold it in. First, I fly right passed the body. The only thing that tips me off is the pained groans of pure agony and the heavy scent of blood. I slide into a small clearing, witnessing a wounded blood sucker as he is slowly tortured on his back. I know very well that he will not die; it is nearly impossible to kill them. Only a stake through the heart will do the job, and it appears the soldier who attempted such a brave act did not pass. The spit of wood is only about two inches in, only enough to graze the outside of the male’s beating heart. Vampires, despite what feeble humans truly think of them, are really rather simple. They look, grow, live just like everything else. They grow from babies like us, and eventually die, though their life spans are longer than that of a human. They are incredibly fast, strong, and they stop actually aging at the age of forty.
I take care approaching the victim, examining the extent of his injuries. The arm closest to me, his left, is torn at the shoulder, hanging on by just a bit of muscle, tissue, and skin. On his right leg, deep parallel lines start from the outside of his hip and ends on the inside of his knee. Nonetheless, that is not the worst of the injuries. The stake it what I am worried about.
As I bend down next to him, I slide my gray eyes to his face, contorted with torment. He looks familiar. “Who are you?”
He grits his teeth together, shooting his eyes to mine. I nearly fall back at the blazing color, reminding me of glowing sapphires. There is only one family that has such a blazing color.
Prince Kaiden’s eyes go wide, “Princess Aiyana.”
The words cause him great pain, for he screams once more. The stake is tipped in a deadly poison, but only if enough gets into his system. At this rate and with the extent of his injuries, I assume that he will just be gravely ill. His eyes take on a glittery sheen to it, and I realize that tears are building in his eyes. Those piercing jewels pin to my own, the salty drops spilling over the corners.
“Please,” he chokes out, “I don’t want to die.”
Something starts in my chest, a tight shock that rings through my whole body. I realize then that he is just another son to another mother. He did not ask for any of this, none of us did. It is just something that our forefathers started and cursed upon their descendants.
I take my golden tan hand and wrap around his blue smeared, pale white one, noticing the startling contrast. From the forest’s edge, I sense Tristan, silently keeping vigil, like the soldier he was bred to be. Above, the moon’s brilliance is cast over the land, painted everything in milky white, inky black, and everything in between.
“You will not die.” I say, making my mind up. “You will not be another lost son to another mother.”
Tristan makes his way to us cautiously, as if expecting an ambush. Prince Kaiden looks shocked. “What are you talking about?”
I smile down at him, gently pushing his black hair out of his eyes. “I am taking you home.”
Yeah. I am going to take this wounded soldier back to his home and to his family, right smack into the heart of enemy territory.

Chapter Two

“What?” Tristan yells, snatching my arm and whirling me around. His eyes are burning, changing colors, a swirling mass of gold and steel. “Aiya, you can’t.”
I latch my eyes onto his, feeling a shift beneath my skin. My sister wolf is rising to the surface, having heard the lesser wolf try and command us to do something. I sense her looking out of my eyes, staring down Tristan. Realizing his mistake, he crouches on the ground amidst the blood, looking up while remaining submissive.
When I talk, an icy growl escapes my throat, the earth beneath me trembling, “you do not command me, Tristan. Remember that.”
The captain slowly creeps backwards on his hands and knees until he is a safe distance away. The human part of me hurts to see him in this position, such a strong man having to prove his loyalty to a small female like me, but that is the way it is. “Yes, your grace.”
In acknowledgement, I bow my head and turn back to the vampire prince. He has silently watched the whole act with wide eyes, which he abruptly turns to me. “It is rare a vampire is allowed witness to a wolf’s dominance struggles.”
“Uh huh,” I murmur, tenderly fingers the base of the wooden stake. He cringes beneath my touch, a small groan leaving his mouth. I wrap both of my hands around the wood, “this is going to hurt. Try not an yell too loud, there might be other scouts around.”
Kaiden briskly nods his head, gritting his teeth together and fisting his right hand. On the count of three, I yank the weapon from his chest, and a feeling of pride washes over me when he does not scream. But the pain is evident on his tear and blood stained face. I watch as the wound begins to spill sapphire blood, and I smell the poison in it. The deadly substance will kill a vampires, but only if it gets enough actually in the heart during the first impact. If not, and the weapon merely is in the skin, then the poison will flow through a vampire’s blood stream, drastically decreasing the healing time. Which explains why his cuts have not been healed.
“This is the part that I am more than a little worried about.”