Purity War

by Laurel Night

  Eventually, I pulled back and Mick released me from his hold. His eyes met mine and must have read the question there, without my having to ask it. The glow in his eyes was so bright it almost outshone the fire, dancing with striations of teal and gold.

  “It doesn’t feel like the right time,” he said, his voice husky. “I want you, but I feel… something holding me back. I’m not sure what it is. I hope you don’t misunderstand, I want to pair with you. Something just told me this wasn’t the right time.”

  I did understand. I felt the same thing, although for me it was a tiny sliver of fear, a question at the back of my mind I still hadn’t answered.

  I nodded. “Yes, I feel it too. It’s not the right moment.” Relief washed over Mick’s face, and I realized he worried I’d be upset or hurt like last time. To assure him I wasn’t, I cupped his cheeks in my hands and planted another kiss on his lips, then wrapped my arms around his warm body and dipped my head into the space between his chin and shoulder again.

  Mick breathed in deeply, then wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. “Come on,” he said releasing me. “Let’s go to bed.”

  I didn’t want to. Going into the cool bedroom, however beautifully decorated, was not appealing. I would have to warm up the empty bed by myself. I was warm in his arms, and I didn’t want to leave.

  Mick shifted beneath me. “Come on,” he said again. “The sun will be up soon, and it’s been a long night.”

  “I’m not tired,” I grumbled, tightening my grip on his back in rebellion. However, my body immediately betrayed me and a yawn escaped my mouth. I tried to stifle it but it was audible.

  A chuckle rumbled in Mick’s chest. “Mm hmm, not tired at all. You’re a terrible liar.” His hand rubbed warm circles on my back.

  “I don’t want to get up,” I tried again, being honest this time. “I’m warm here with you, and cozy, and I don’t want to go back to my big empty bed.”

  Mick froze underneath me, holding his breath for a moment before he inhaled deeply again. “Do you… would you like to sleep with me?”

  My heart picked up again. “Can I?” He’d never offered before.

  “Yes…” he answered, and his hand resumed the circles on my back, the gesture feeling more nervous than reassuring. “But there’s something you should know first.” His voice was odd, tense.

  “What, do you snore or something?” I teased, trying to ease his sudden discomfort.

  Mick gripped my arms lightly and pushed me back so he could look me in the eye. “Lucy, there’s a reason I’ve never invited you to stay over.”

  His expression was difficult to read, but I felt that he was nervous, afraid of my reaction.

  “What is it, Mick? Do you have nightmares? Are you a sleepwalker? I promise, whatever it is, I’m fine with it.”

  His eyes searched mine, and whatever he found there gave him the courage to continue. “I sometimes shift back to my vimpiri form when I sleep,” he answered softly. “I don’t want it to frighten you.” His gaze dropped to his feet, waiting for my response.

  And I understood. I’d never seen him as he really was, as he was born. I’d only ever seen him the way he wanted me to see him. Asleep he would be vulnerable. He worried I wouldn’t like him.

  My heart thumped in my chest for his embarrassment. He was insecure, afraid he couldn’t be himself with me. That was why he was still holding back.

  “Mick, are you afraid I wouldn’t love you any more if I saw you in your true form?”

  Heat burned in my cheeks at my slip. I hadn’t thought about using that L-word, it just happened. I couldn’t take it back now, although I wasn’t sure I would want to.

  Mick’s eyes flashed to mine in surprise, then held my gaze, his irises dimming. “Yes,” he answered solemnly.

  “Do you trust me enough to give me a chance before you assume how I’ll react?” I asked gently.

  “I saw how you reacted to Todd,” he replied in a low voice, dropping his gaze again. “I don’t think I could bear it if you looked at me that way.” The pain in his voice was a raw edge that told me how deep a fear this really was for him.

  I lifted my hands to his face, gently turning it towards me again. “Mick, it surprised me. I knew nothing about the Vimpiri then. Don’t you think I understand a little better what I’m getting into now than I did a few months ago?”

  His eyes were dark, the green irises solid, flat discs. I forced him to hold my gaze, and after a few moments, the flame of hope rose in his eyes until they were alive with color. A dozen shades of green and blue swirled around his pupils, flickers of gold highlighting the motion and enhancing the glow that emanated from him.

  I swallowed, trying to keep my mind in the present and not get caught in the whorls of color in his eyes. “Mick, do you trust me?”

  His hand reached out tentatively and cupped my cheek, warm against my skin. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Then let’s go to bed.” I released his face and stood, stretching my hand back to him. He gripped it and rose, lacing his fingers through mine. Mick’s eyes never left my face, and I held his gaze firmly. I knew this was important to him now, this connection, and it gave him courage. I wanted to be that for him.

  I squeezed his hand and tugged lightly toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. His eyes dropped to our interlaced fingers and his lip curled in a one-sided grin. Mick’s gaze rose to my face once more, and the grin spread across his face, lifting his cheeks in a smile so open it nearly stopped my heart. “Yes, let’s go to bed,” he repeated, then took the lead and walked me down the hallway.

  When we reached my door he didn’t hesitate but continued on to his bedroom, his bare feet slapping lightly on the stone floor. The hand not holding mine reached out and turned the handle, and he stepped aside to hold the door open for me as I entered. The walls lit in response to the motion, and when I passed through he shut the door gently behind me, still gripping my hand.

  Mick’s bedroom decor was very similar to that of every other room in the house, neutral whites and grays with touches of metallic bronze accents. His bed was large and unmade, with a nest of soft cotton sheets and a fluffy down comforter piled in the middle.

  Smiling at his very human male inability to make his bed, I slid my hand from his grasp and grabbed the corner of the bedding, lifting and fluffing until it laid flat on the mattress. Mick understood my intent and grabbed the other side, helping me spread the blanket evenly on the bed before we turned down the top. Abruptly awkward, he gestured for me to climb in first.

  I hadn’t made a pit stop at my room for my pajamas, and I didn’t want to leave and have him change his mind, so I just stripped off the sweater and jeans I was wearing, leaving only my underwear and camisole. I unhooked my bra under the shirt and slid out of the straps, depositing it on the floor, before I climbed into the bed.

  Mick observed this process silently, his intense gaze bringing heat to my cheeks as he watched me undress in the brightly lit room. I usually waited until the lights were out to do that in front of a guy, but here, with lights that turned on when you moved, it just wasn’t going to happen.

  Now, however, I got to be the one who watched. Mick’s black dress shirt was already unbuttoned at the neck, and he didn’t bother unbuttoning it the rest of the way. Instead, he reached back and grabbed the back of the collar, pulling it forward over his head and sliding it off his arms in front, his eyes never leaving mine. Before I had a chance to marvel at this ingenious way of removing a shirt, he started unbuckling his belt. My eyes dropped at the metallic clanging sound, then my blush deepened as I realized he was watching me stare at his pants. I lifted my eyes quickly to his and caught the bemused grin on his face as he continued to remove his pants. Eventually, they dropped to the ground, revealing black boxer briefs that I caught in my peripheral vision. I focused on keeping my eyes on his, and although my breathing was a little shallow, I managed it.

  Mick approached the bed slowly, having stepped out of
the bundled clothing on the floor. He slid between the sheets smoothly, then sat still, unsure of what to do next.

  The confused look on his face got me, and I laughed out loud. “Come here,” I said chuckling, and he scooted closer. I pushed him to lay back on a pillow, then slid over, positioning myself so I was comfortably nestled in the crook of his arm with one arm and a leg draped over him. At first stiff as a board, he eventually relaxed and his breathing became more even.

  “Is this how you always sleep?” His voice was low, rumbling in his chest beneath me.

  “God no, this is just… nice,” I answered. “How do you normally sleep?”

  “Upside down,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “Like a bat.”

  I stiffened, holding my breath for a moment while I wondered if he was serious. The snickering gave him away, and I slapped him lightly on the chest with my palm. “Not funny,” I grumbled.

  “Truthfully, I usually sleep on my side,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” I smiled. “Let’s do that.” I held onto the arm beneath me and rolled onto my side, facing away from him, then reached back and grabbed his free arm, pulling him onto his side and wrapping his arm around me. He repositioned so his warm body was curled around mine, and his arm tucked tightly around my body.

  “Mmm,” he grunted, “this is better.” His breath stirred my hair and warmed the back of my neck. I settled more deeply into the pillow.

  Comfy and warm, a little tipsy from the wine and the relief, I had to agree.

  This was definitely better.

  The End

  EPILOGUE

  LUCY

  I woke slowly, drifting out of sleep with the realization I was hot. Mick’s body was like a furnace, and I wasn’t used to it. His arms were still wrapped tightly around me, and his body pressed to my back.

  Being stealthy so as not to trigger the motion lights, I reached a foot forward, kicking the blanket back with gentle motions until I could feel the cool air on my leg. I reached up with my free arm and pulled the covers down, exposing my torso and Mick’s arm to the air, allowing some of the heat radiating from him to escape. When I tucked my arm back in next to my body, my skin brushed against Mick’s arm. His dry, scaly arm.

  My heart sped up as I realized he must have changed form. I imagined his face like the image of Todd in my memory, green and turtle-like. It was too dark to see well, but I could see his skin was darker, and his arm shorter, then it was in his human form. Mick’s breath was still even and deep in my ear.

  My momentary panic ebbed quickly. I was curious about what he looked like, but I didn’t want to wake him. Much like I wasn’t ready to strip naked in front of him in broad daylight, he wasn’t ready to intentionally reveal his full vimpiri self to me. I had shown him trust by stripping down to my underwear despite my discomfort. He was showing me trust by inviting me to sleep here, knowing he might change and I could see. I certainly didn’t want him to know I had a second of panic realizing he had changed in his sleep—it would just confirm his fears.

  Instead, I reached up and laid my hand gently over his, feeling the dry texture of his stubby fingers. They tightened, gripping me reflexively, and I smiled to myself at his unconscious reaction. Snuggling in, I wondered idly if I could get him to bring the Nutella jar back to bed in the morning, or if he would think that was weird. Plotting how I would talk him down to a spoonful before I had to get up, I drifted off to sleep.

  Thank you!

  From the bottom of my heart, thank you for downloading this book and taking a chance on me. I hope you have enjoyed Mortal Heat so far! The final book in the trilogy, Dying Star, releases early 2020. My newsletter subscribers will get first notification of releases and giveaways. I hope you’ll stick around and see how the adventures of Lucy and Emily continue!

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  Once again, thank you so much! Two years ago I had a dream of publishing my own stories, and it just means the world to me that people find, read, and (hopefully) enjoy them.

  Now, please enjoy this taste of my free book Mortal Flight. Mortal Flight is a prequel to the Mortal Heat series, and takes place in the same world. However the two are not interdependent, and feature different characters.

  Mortal Flight

  In the summer of 1945, Geri Hayes is just another female pilot who never saw war. That is, until a mysterious stranger offers her a dangerous opportunity that is too good to pass up, and makes Geri wonder: How far is too far?

  Factory life in her small New York town had taken on a depressing regularity for a pilot who dreams of soaring through the stars. A chance encounter introduces Geri to James, whose alluring eyes and imaginative conversation soon have her head over heels in an unexpected romance.

  The relationship takes a surprising turn when James offers Geri the one thing she craves more than love: The opportunity to explore the unknown. The offer comes with a shocking revelation, and a price. Will Geri decide to pursue her dreams, or will the cost be too high?

  This is the Part One of Mortal Flight, the prequel to the Mortal Heat series.

  Both stories take place in the same world, but are otherwise unrelated.

  Mortal Flight is a free novel that will be released in three parts. Subscribe to Laurel Night’s newsletter to receive Parts Two and Three free!

  MORTAL FLIGHT SNEAK PEEK

  August 14, 1945—New York

  I watched the confetti drift to earth like multi-colored snowflakes. It wasn’t real confetti, of course; colored paper was far too expensive to waste on something as frivolous as throwing it out of a window, no matter the reason. Instead, it was scraps of cloth; the tiny, useless bits leftover from dressmaking. The pieces too small to salvage for a doll’s bonnet. The refuse that builds up around the feet of sewing machines in the factories several stories above our heads.

  The image of a bird roosting in my wild auburn hair, drawn by the cozy nest of fabric, rose unbidden to my mind. A scowl took up residence on my face despite my best efforts to enjoy myself. I had taken care to tame the unruly curls into some semblance of the fashionable ‘Victory Rolls’ all the girls wore. With the rate the confetti rained down, a mountain of shredded fabric would soon conceal my carefully coifed head. What was the point?

  Of course, the girls told me it was important to look our best tonight. The war was over, Japan would surrender, and it was time to celebrate. I played along, trekking to Edith’s cousin Marie’s apartment in the Garment District of New York City so we could get gussied up and go out on the town. My hair was styled, my lips painted, and my feet squeezed into a pair of borrowed shoes a half-size too small. I stood my ground on the dress; I hated dresses and always had. Painting lines down the back of my legs to pretend I was wearing hose in the sweltering August heat was ridiculous. Instead, I wore my comfortable cotton trousers, and fashion be damned. Despite how well she knew me, my friend Edith had tried to coerce me into borrowing one of her frocks, a well-worn knee-length number with tiny blue flowers.

  “But Geri, it’s blue! You like blue, and it matches your eyes. Oh, you’ll just look divine in this dress. You have to try it on!” She pressed the dress into my hands.

  “No, thank you,” I answered stiffly. Pulling my hands back, I refused to take ownership of the offending garment and forced Edith to keep it or allow it to drop on the floor.

  “You’re impossible!” She sighed in defeat, tossing her chestnut hair over her shoulder. “You will never find a husband in that getup.”
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  “Perfect,” I replied, straightening my collar. “I don’t want one.” A grin curled my lips, softening the blow from my harsh words. I loved that she cared, I just wished she’d accept me for who I was.

  “Give it up, Edith,” my other friend Ruth interjected, patting her smooth blonde curls in the mirror. “You’re not going to talk Geri into doing anything she doesn’t want to do. She’s more stubborn than you are.” She smacked her lips together, spreading the bright red lipstick perfectly across her full pout.

  “Fine. Fine! I give up. But remember this moment when you’re a lonely old maid with only cats for company. Remember I tried to help you, and despite my best efforts, this is how you ended up.” Symbolically washing her hands of me, she returned the dress to the closet.

  An hour later we knew her threats were empty. No one cared what I was wearing. No one cared what anyone was wearing. We were all part of a vast, exhilarating celebration, and fashion did not matter. Music blared from open doorways and people danced in the streets. Edith, Ruth, and Marie soon found partners and danced in jubilation. I had also been asked to dance but citing my too-small shoes, I begged off. There were plenty of other girls to choose from so my would-be suitors disappeared, and I got to muse over my mixed emotions in peace.