Pure Ambrosia

By PopTop38

Now, for those who read my first copy of this story by the name of The Sweetest Nectar, I'm so sorry for the sudden deletion! But, I just couldn't keep continuing it with all those chapters that were written so…badly. Every time I reread it, I would find a new mistake and it would drive me crazy. That, and the fact that the story was swerving off the path I wanted it to go. So, with a heavy heart and screaming mind, I took a deep breath and got rid it.

I'm rewriting it though, as you can clearly see, so no need to worry. Hopefully, this copy will be noticeably better than the last. Now for those who are newcomers to this story, welcome! Your viewing is much appreciated, and your thoughts and opinions are very loved by me, of course. Well, enough of me talking. Time to start reading!

Prologue:

The hellish sounds of inhuman snarls and shrill screams reached my perked ears through the thick stone walls of my hidden room, each growing fiercer by the passing seconds. Consequently, a heavy mix of worry and anger was rushing through my veins like liquid poison, paralyzing my twitching limbs with numbing toxin.

Even though he was less durable than the other members of his family now, my mate still believed it would be best to fight alongside the others since he was physically stronger than them all for the moment. How long that would last though, I didn't know. I should have never given him more.

Noticing my fear for his safety before he left, my tender warrior had cupped my tear-stained cheek with one of his large hands and bent down for a kiss that was sweetly heated. His lips, warm with the foreign blood rushing through them, whispered a silent promise against my own; one that spoke of his return if the battle was too much for his new form.

That had been over two hours ago, with not even a hint of his reappearance, so as a result, my rigid emotions were beginning to shift with restlessness for his quick return.

"Where are you now?" I asked myself in the emptiness of the room. Obviously, no answer was given to me, which bothered me greatly.

Last I heard, he had been charging through a mass of wild newborns with the fiery rage of the Roman god he was named after, destroying them all with a ferocity of a enraged lion. Demetri had given this information to me through the locked door with a raised breath of both excitement and reassurance before continuing on with his own battles. That had been over hour ago, with no other news from the guard or my warrior himself since.

Now, my bare feet were digging into the pale blue rug in the middle of floor with each pacing step I made over it. In the process, my eyes kept glancing over repeatedly at the aged grandfather clock in the far left corner of the room. Its hands a few inches from the twelve, a constant ticking resonated from its mechanical chambers, driving me into further madness.

Knowing it was pointless to tire myself out while waiting, I went over to the majestic, king-size bed, which dominated most of the room's space, to lay underneath the sleek covers. Childish as it was, I could not help the sudden need to pull the covers over my head. It was a pleasant feeling, being shielded in the soft darkness of the sheets with my lover's scent still embedded in the silk fabric.

It all reminded me of him, whose large frame could conceal me with ease when he wished to protect me from the dangers that surrounded my life. He was not here this time though. Instead, his protective instincts were engaged in finding the ones who had took me away from him for that torturous time which still echoed with the pain and misery they caused me.

The brutal noises of raging war that I tried with all might to block out washed over me like a large tidal wave of glacier-cold water suddenly. It was all too much. The fighting, the worrying, the fear, all of it was just too much for to handle at the same time. I was going to lose my mind soon if it did not end.

To my both razor-sharp suspicion and joyous relief, another sound besides snarling also echoed from behind the firm oak door of my room: a knocking, low but persistent.

Careful to be as quiet as I could like how I had been advised, my feet were arched tightly with each tiptoed step I made toward the door. Once my position was about five feet away from the entrance, the figure on the other side called out in a soft, but familiar voice, "My sweet, it's me."

Elation shot through my heart with the incredible speed of a bullet. "You made it back!" I whispered in delight while taking the final steps to the door. Turning the lock and opening the heft entry way by leaning back and using all my human strength, my expression quickly changed from that of glee to horror at the sight of my battle-weary lover.

Pale and shaky, with his own ancient sword stabbed through and up his stomach at a dangerous angle, my beloved gazed down at me with his azure-colored eyes glazed and unseeing; the first signs of an imminent death. His midnight blue shirt was ripped and torn to shreds, while a dark stain spread from where the sword was poking out his abdominal.

"No," The helpless word trailed out my closing throat in a hoarse whisper, repeating once more when my wounded warrior fell against me in a feeble manner.

Struggling underneath the weight of his bulk, I gently helped him laid against the bed before racing over to close and locked the door again. With forceful restraint, my panic thoughts turned away from the sticky, crimson liquid covering my hands and the recognizable copper-and-ink smell that wafted from it.

"Bella," He croaked, reaching out an unsteady hand to me with a racking cough that was very coarse. Scared and unable to find help if the many fights happening in the halls was any indication, my mind instinctively pushed me to grab his waiting hand and hold it between both of mine.

Tears, stinging and warm, watered underneath my eyelids at the agonized look on my lover's face. Another cough racked through his pierced lungs, wet with the fluid building in them. He tried to cover it with his hand, but I could see the painful effects inflicted on him by the tight frown on his lips and the furrowed of his eyebrows.

The horrible aftermath of this particular fit was revealed however when he dropped his hand back down on the sheets, showing the palm stained with an unpleasant combination of crimson blood and blue-green venom. It was too much for me to handle then; to know that my warrior was losing the most deadly battle, and I couldn't somehow help him win, was clawing my heart to shreds and ripping my soul to pieces.

Without even knowing, the tears built into my eyes fell with the similarity of raindrops. One after the other, they landed on either the blood-soaked bed sheets or the back of my shaking hands.

Physically upset at the sight of the tears tumbling down my cheeks in silent trails, my beloved extended his other hand and brushed the back of it against my face with a gentle caress.

"Do not cry, my fearless swan," He told me in his usual stern, but loving tone. It brought even more salty tears into my ducts. Feeling as if the world was crashing and burning around me, my only reply to him was a weak sob that choked out my throat.

In the back of my mind, I had knew letting him go to fight was a huge risk, but he had been so adamant on finding the immortals who had hurt me and ending their lives in the most excruciating ways possible that I couldn't stop him.

Seeing him now though, with his new life source seeping out of him in crimson waves, made me wished I had done more than just tell him a hollowed 'good luck.' I was an idiot to let him leave in his…condition.

Cautious of the sharp sword sticking out from his lower back through his abdomen, my tender warrior pulled me down beside him and held me close with his powerful arms wrapped around my smaller figure. My head laid against his chest, the sound of his large heart beating into my right ear with a slowly fading echo made me think of the distant thunder you hear with an approaching storm.

"Il mio amore per te è eterno, Isabella. Never forget that," He whispered inside my left ear with a dwindling softness that stabbed at my bleeding heart.

At an utter lost for words, I leaned back and gazed down at him though my blurred vision. His expression was tinged with love and regret, and to my surprise, tears were glazing his lidded eyes as well. They were a faint pink color, each and every one colliding together to form a watery veil that hid the fading flames in his irises.

Cradled in the palm of my hand, I stroked his pale cheek with the pad of my thumb as I answered his passionate words with my own, "And my love for you is endless, Marcus. Don't you ever forget that."

Powerless to do anything else, and realizing that his death was near with each painful breath he took, I pressed my quivering lips against my departing warrior's own trembling, blood-stained ones in a goodbye kiss that could make Shakespeare himself envious in his grave.

Well, that is the prologue to my new/old story, Pure Ambrosia. Did it catch your attention or just confused you horribly? I have a few different ideas that I'm going to be trying with this story, so I'm hope you enjoy. Review about what you think so far please, or if you're a reader who remembers The Sweetest Nectar, tell me your thoughts about the differences I've made. Alright, until next chapter, bye!