Disclaimers: All the characters in this story belong to me. The concept of the Night World belongs to L.J. Smith and I am simply borrowing it for the purposes of entertainment. I'm not making any money off of this story.
Spoilers: None. This takes place a very long time ago, before the Night World books.
Rating: PG. There's only one curse, I believe. (But a few magickal ones.)
Author's Note: Thanks go out to my friend Krystel, who told me what parts sucked and how I could fix them. And to my cousins Alison and Kathryn, who read over a revised copy and lent the use of their bedroom and car, where the pictures of the characters were drawn. (The first draft of this story was written on 7/12/99. The drawings in the title image were drawn on 7/16 and 7/17 by me, and cannot be used. I spent a lot of time drawing them, and I'll be seriously pissed if they're taken.)

Delilah gathered her long skirts in her fists and rushed through the lush gardens to where the high stone wall separated the city from her home.

There he stood, hidden mostly by shadows, tall and dark haired. As she came nearer she could see the silver of his irises, glowing in the darkness. Breathless, she stopped before him and dropped her skirts, feeling them fall around her ankles and swish lightly in the cool breeze.

“I thought you were not coming,” he said, and she shook her head desperately.

“Oh, no, never!” she murmured. “I would never leave you out here waiting for me. It just took a while for the attendants to leave my bed chambers.”

His hands came down and rested on her shoulders, pulling her a little closer to him. She felt enveloped by his warmth and being, and a serene sense of security settled over her. It didn’t matter if they were found; nothing mattered as long as she was in his embrace. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her. His hands were a warm weight on her back, their strength radiating through her body and making her feel cared for. He would never let anything happen to her, as long as he lived. And once he made her a vampire, they would both live forever, with him protecting her and her loving him with all her heart and soul.

Fingers trailed over her face, spending sparks shooting through her skin. Through their soulmate link she heard him whisper, I would do anything for you, my angel, my sweetness…

Sighing, Delilah leaned her head against his shoulder and he toyed with the ends of her long mahogany curls. I love you, Dorian. You are my life.

Dorian stepped back without releasing her slim frame, slanted silver eyes searching her upturned face. Her skin was like warm porcelain, and her long brown tresses and large green eyes gave her the appearance of a doll. He could break her so easily between his two large, strong hands, but she seemed oblivious to the danger. She stared up at him, dark green eyes blinded by his handsome face and by love. She stood in the circle of his arms, young and trusting.

Naivete is a beautiful thing, Dorian thought to himself, and Delilah didn’t hear him.

“Come, my dear, sit with me.” He took her small hand in his and led her over to a marble bench that was situated beside a large fountain. Not for the first time he marveled at the fragility of her bones, and fought the urge to crush them, to hear the delicious crunch they would surely make. “Let’s talk,” he said. “Tell me, how are things in the castle?”

“Well, Father and Mother believe that I have truly stopped seeing you.” She giggled. “Isn’t that silly? I would die without you.”

He smiled, and to Delilah, it appeared sincere. “I need you, as well, my blessed angel.”

Delilah sighed. “Oh, you’re so sweet to me, Dorian,” she crooned, smoothing his thick, wavy hair back from his face. “What would I do without you?”

“No, darling, it is what would I do without you?” And that was the truth. Dorian needed Delilah. Without her he’d be hopeless. He drew her into his arms, laying a kiss on the top of her head. She whispered words of love as he looked over her shoulder, towards the windows of the castle she lived in. The castle he could not enter…for now.

“I don’t understand why we cannot be allowed to be together,” Delilah said softly, tears forming in her eyes. “Doesn’t Father see that you’re not like all the other vampires? You’re different, and good, and…my soulmate. I would know if you had evil intentions, and I do not sense any in your mind. You are so pure, my love, so pure and beautiful.” She gazed into his silvery eyes with an innocent wonder that amazed Dorian. How could one person be so oblivious?

“Dearest, listen to me.” Urgency deepened his already low voice. “I have found a way for us to be together.”

Green eyes widened impossibly. “Truly?” Delilah asked, a happy, hopeful smile stretching her pretty red lips.

“Would I lie to you?” Dorian admonished lightly. “But I must have your help in carrying out this plan.”

“Anything, my love!” Delilah’s eyes sparkled with eagerness.

“Well,” Dorian began, pulling a small, flat, paper package out of his pocket. He handed it to her. “In there is a powder that you must slip into your father’s drink. It will make him permit our relationship.”

Horror transformed Delilah’s delicate features. “Dorian!” she exclaimed, shocked. “A witch cannot manipulate another person’s will without being punished by the divine forces!”

Shaking his head, Dorian corrected her. “It’s not manipulation, Angel. It will simply open his mind to reason. It’s not going against his will. I would never do anything that would bring harm to your family, even though they despise my kind and I. You must know that.”

Delilah stared at her hands, twisted tightly in her lap. “Are you absolutely sure that this will not go against his will, Dorian?”

“I am sure, Delilah.”

She sighed, then nodded and turned to him. “Alright, my love. Tell me what I must do.”

*   *   *   *

Delilah poured red wine out of a gold flask into her father’s jewel-encrusted goblet. She slipped the paper packet out of her billowing white sleeve and opened it. She was alone in the kitchen. The servants were asleep, and she always brought Father his nightly drink. No one would ever know what she had done, and if it allowed her to spend the rest of forever with Dorian, she could live with the guilt.

The red powder made a slight hissing sound as it fell from the package. Sparks flew when it landed in the wine, and it turned a glowing yellow color before returning to burgundy. Delilah sniffed the liquid and found nothing but the intoxicating, faintly sweet and sour smell of the wine. She swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, clasped the goblet in her hand, and made her way towards the stone steps that led to her father’s personal chamber.

*   *   *   *

Her father answered the door and let Delilah in with the drink. He was not the most powerful person in the castle, but he was one of the most important. He was the head royal guard to her mother, who was ruler of all witches. Mother was sick and dying, though, so Father kept the peace with his guards and his firm, but gentle ruling hand. He was a good man, and he surely had her best interests in mind by forbidding her to rendezvous with Dorian. Delilah remembered all the times Father had read to her by the fire and played with her in the garden, and almost threw the goblet to the floor. But her love for Dorian won out, and she allowed her father to take the cup from her fingers. He smiled at her and took a sip.

“So, Lilah,” he began conversationally. “How was your—” He choked, and red liquid dribbled out of his mouth. It’s the wine coming back up, she thought, but even as the words passed through her mind she knew that wasn’t it. She watched in horror as her beloved father fell to the cold, hard floor, blood pouring out of his mouth and eyes.

Delilah took a step back, and the bile rose in her throat along with a scream. But neither had the chance to escape, because she was shocked into silence by the sight of Dorian’s long, agile body climbing through the window. He glanced down at her father’s bloody form and smiled at her.

“I see it worked.” He moved towards her, arm outstretched, and she slapped his hand away.

“Dorian! You knew this would happen!” Delilah felt her heart shattering to sharp pieces inside of her as waves of guilt and betrayal washed over her, nearly drowning her. She wished they would.

Shrugging, Dorian let his hand drop. “You’re right, I did know this would happen…Angel.” A mocking smile curved his lips, and his eyes were as cold and gray as stone, no longer the smooth liquid quicksilver she used to lose herself in.

A loud banging turned her attention to the door, and she watched, terrified, as the heavy hinges broke and fell to the floor with an echoing clang. The door was pulled out of the frame and set aside, and the room filled with vampires smiling their pointy smiles.

“We have the Mother in our possession,” one told Dorian. “She is dying, but for the moment she is stable.”

Shrugging, Dorian gestured to Delilah. “It matters not,” he informed his army. “We have the heir right before us. She is under my control, and with her as my puppet we shall rule both the witches and vampires.”

“You used me!” Delilah cried out, tears running down her smooth cheeks. She whirled on Dorian and tried to scratch him, but he caught her easily and held her immobile against his body.

“So sweet…” he murmured, brushing his fingers over her neck. She felt his face move towards her, and felt his lips on her neck.

“No!” she shrieked, fighting against him with every ounce of strength her small body possessed, but to no avail. He was too strong, and there were at least twenty other vampires in the room. She had no chance against them.

She relaxed her body, slumping against him in defeat. How could he have betrayed her like this? She had to know.

“Why?” she asked. “Why have you used me in this way? How could you do this to your own soulmate?”

Dorian laughed, and it was a harsh sound that traveled over her skin like a piece of jagged iron. “‘Soulmate?’” he repeated. “You still believe we’re soulmates? You stupid girl.” She felt him shake his head. “I’m a vampire. I have mental powers, or didn’t you know?” The others in the room laughed with their leader. “All those warm, fuzzy feelings you felt…dragonshit. I made you feel them with my powers. And the way we were pulled into each other’s minds? All those memories you saw were made up. My brother never died, causing me grief that only you could ease. I don’t even have a brother!”

Blinking rapidly, Delilah felt herself enter a state of shock. It was all a game. She had played right into his hands. He had used her all along, and she had never even realized it. The man she had loved didn’t exist. Her father was dead, and her mother would be soon. The edges of her vision began to blur, and then Delilah remembered something from very long ago.

“If the legacy is ever threatened and there is a chance it might be controlled by outside influence through you, you must end the legacy, Delilah,” her mother had once told her. “Speak the words on this scroll while your blood is being spilled and the Goddess will take you to be with her.”

“We’ll kill your mother, and then make you one of us,” Dorian was saying. “Then, unless you want to die, you will do all that I say. Through you I shall control all the witches, and then I will move on to shapeshifters. And then I will have the world in my grasp.” He looked up and addressed his men. “How does that sound to the lot of you?” They cheered and he grinned, turning back to Delilah. “Have you anything to say, Sweetness?”

Delilah forced herself to remember the spell she knew her mother was reciting this very moment and ignored him. He shrugged and kissed her throat before biting into the soft, resilient flesh. Delilah gasped at the pain, but the moment she felt the first trickle of blood down her neck she began to whisper the incantation.

“Goddess, take me in your arms. Hold me; keep me safe from harm. Your daughters shall die unless I go first. Release us from the coming curse.”

She repeated the words over and over, and vaguely felt Dorian lift his head to stare at her. All were transfixed by the small girl casting a spell before them.

“Stop,” Dorian said. “What are you doing?” When he realized what she was saying, he felt fear grip him with icy talons. He would not be able to make the witches follow him if there was no ruler. He had to keep her alive, or else the witches would simply elect someone else. Delilah was the last of the royal family; without her, his dreams were crushed to nothing. He clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to prevent her lips from moving, and they stopped. He sighed in relief, then heard a strong voice resounding in the room.

“Daughter, I take you in my arms. I hold you, keep you safe from harm. You shall die so my daughters can live. To you one last wish I give.”

Screaming, the entire vampire army burst into flames as Delilah’s body slumped in Dorian’s arms, the last of her life leaving it a cold and empty shell. But just before her spirit left the room, Dorian heard her voice in his head, whispering through his mind like a cool wind.

Dorian, you shall have your wish. You will live forever…but you shall always be alone. No one will love you as much as I did, and when you finally die, it will be painful, and in isolation. Good-bye, Dorian. Enjoy my gift to you.