Hero's Haven

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Her legs rose, and her small ankles crossed at his back, pushing at him.

  “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to hers.

  “What a way to go.” She twisted her head to lick his neck and sink her teeth into his earlobe.

  Ecstasy spasmed through him, from head to toe, electricity zipping up and down his spine. He gritted his teeth to remain in control, going still momentarily until he could breathe again without coming. Okay. He had this. She tightened around him, caressing his length, gripping him with an immortal strength.

  Sometimes he forgot her lineage.

  He groaned and pulled out of her, then pushed back in, his movements increasing in speed and strength, unable to stop himself. She dug her nails into his arms and held on tight, throwing her head back on the pillow. Her honey-blond hair spread out, filling the air with the scents of oranges, strawberries, and Haven. All Haven. Sweet woman with a hint of paint to her.

  She arched against him, a moan escaping her.

  He hammered harder, losing himself in the moment and in her. Haven. The marking on his palm burned its way up his arm to his neck, making his skin feel the flames.

  She tossed her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Bite me, Quade,” she moaned, meeting every thrust with one of her own.

  His fangs dropped of their own volition. He released her hip and planted the marking on the bedcovers, far away from her flesh. Then he grasped her other hip with the hand scarred by the Seven rituals, and struck, going deep in her neck and taking her blood.

  She cried out, her body stiffening, and orgasmed so powerfully she gripped him tight enough to make him gasp.

  He pounded into her, riding her waves, his eyes closed. Sensations of raw ecstasy, powerful and uncomfortable, edged through him, uncoiling with sparks of electricity as he shoved inside her one last time, held tight, and came.

  He rode the most powerful orgasm of his life and then caught himself with his elbows before flattening her. His fangs retracted, he licked her wound clean, and then rolled over onto his back, panting wildly.

  “Wait. We forgot protection and birth control,” she said.

  He exhaled. “Immortals don’t need protection and can only get pregnant if mated.”

  She propped herself up on an elbow, her eyes the soft yellow of a golden sunrise. “Let’s do that again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Three times. They’d had sex—to completion—three times. More than sex. There was nothing casual about sleeping with Quade, and she refused to lie to herself. Maybe to him. Not to herself. So what had that been? Too much. Definitely too much. She snuggled into his side, her body shutting down from exhaustion and pleasure. He smelled like the forest with a hint of mint. Had he eaten more toothpaste? She didn’t have the energy to ask.

  “We should talk,” he said, caressing her arm.

  “Hmmm,” she agreed, her eyes closing. Tired. She was so tired. He may have kept talking, but she dropped into sleep, dreaming about paintings and colors and lakes surrounded by vampires.

  Then she was walking along the beach in the dream world she’d painted. Was Hope around? She looked, admiring the pink trees and finally turning to face the rocks in the center of the stream. The ancient-looking green book was open in the sun, its weathered pages almost glowing.

  What kind of book was it?

  A noise, something of a crackle, startled her, and she turned to face the forest. The shadows lengthened and darkened. Her breath quickened, and she turned to run, but a force yanked her toward the darkness. She cried out, her arms scrabbling in the sand, but was dragged through the trees.

  She landed on her back on soft green grass with a dull thud. Pain ached in her shoulders, and she sat up, groaning. The world spun around. Water bubbled amidst large patches of grass with a happy gurgle, and the place smelled like sugar cookies.

  “Who are you?” The voice came from behind her.

  Jumping to her feet, she spun around to see two women, both short, one blond and one red-haired. The blonde had one green eye and one blue eye, while the redhead had a brown eye and a blackish eye. “Who are you?” she gasped as the world tilted around her and then settled.

  The blonde wrung her hands together. “I’m Juliet and this is Morgan. We’re stuck here. How did you get here? Show us the path out.”

  Okay. This was weird. Haven rubbed her eyes. Nope. They were still there. “I don’t know the way out.” It was the truth. She focused her gaze. “Are you fairies?” The two different eye colors were a clue.

  “Fae,” they both said at the same time.

  She nodded. “Totally agree about that.” A chill washed over her shoulders, and she looked around, spotting a forest with deep green trees in the distance. “You guys usually are able to teleport from world to world, right?” It was the first time she’d been actually curious instead of terrified of this odd gift. Or curse.

  Juliet nodded. “Yes, but when we all rendezvoused here before heading back home, we discovered we were stuck.”

  “We? How many of you are there?” Haven looked around to see a flock of birds with bright purple wings flying above.

  Morgan studied her. “Seven of us. The others are out scavenging for food right now and will be back soon.”

  Haven’s skin tingled, and the forest began to pull at her. She fought the sensation. “There’s food here?”

  “Not much,” Juliet admitted. “There are berries and birds, but the birds are hard to catch. We can survive a few more days comfortably, and then we’ll start to get emaciated. We might live for fifty years or so, maybe longer, but it’s going to be painful.”

  “Very,” Morgan muttered. “Since you’re here, you must know a way home. Let’s get everyone back here.” Her eyes glowed, and she exhaled. “Thank goodness.”

  The pull grew stronger, and Haven hunched her shoulders to stay in place. “I can’t control it,” she grunted. “Don’t know the way.” She dropped to her knees and dug into the grass, fighting full on now. Her hair flew back into the wind, and she arched.

  The wind lifted her, and she screamed, blowing across the grass and into a portal in front of the trees.

  She swirled around in nothingness, her head aching, her body bruising. Whatever portal was using her wasn’t meant for people, anybody, to travel through.

  For the first time, she landed on her face. Pain exploded across her forehead, and she sat up, wiping away blood. Damn it. She was back on the hot rock. Turning, afraid to look, she saw the swirling blue portal. “I am so tired of you!” she yelled, standing with her legs braced. “Enough of this bullshit. What the hell do you want?” Anger flushed through her, even though her entire body felt like it had become a smoothie in a blender.

  The portal widened and started to pull at her.

  She grunted and fought. This was like a fucking bad 1950s television show. “The graphics aren’t even that good,” she bellowed, beyond angry. And terrified. But anger felt a lot better than fear, so she went with it.

  Last time she’d jumped into the abyss below her and then awakened safely in her bed. She was inching toward the side when a force much stronger than before lifted her off her feet and whisked her through the portal. She screamed but only silence echoed.

  Pressure moved in, cracking at least one of her ribs. Pain forced the air from her lungs. When the pressure lessened, she bunched her muscles, prepared for the fall.

  This time, she landed on a squishy blue ball, bounced several times, and settled onto her knees facing a far shore across pitch-black liquid. Something swam beneath the surface, leaving ripples. She held her breath, staying completely still.

  A figure strode out of the trees at the shoreline, his strip of white hair contrasting with an eerie red sky. Light-blue veins showed beneath his too-pale skin.

  The ball wobbled around her, and she
didn’t dare stand. “Ulric,” she said quietly. Yeah. She’d figured this would happen.

  He wore some sort of animal hide, his fangs out, his eyes a deep, swirling purple. “I’ve dreamed of you.” His voice was a low baritone that easily crossed the distance.

  “Ditto.” She wanted to stand to face him, but no way did she want to fall into that black murk. A splash sounded behind her, and she jumped, wincing as her broken rib protested. She set her forearm against it to ease some of the pain. “You must have some serious power to pull me here.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have tried for years, but only recently have I felt you coming. I have sensed your presence.”

  Probably because Quade’s world had failed. “I’m not helping you get back,” she said.

  His smile was the most chilling sight she’d ever faced. “Yes, you are.” Bubbles rose from the water, and a massive silver head began to rise.

  Haven screamed.

  * * * *

  Quade shook Haven, the blood roaring through his veins. “Wake up.”

  She sat up, sucking in air with a painful wheeze.

  He sat and turned to face her, kicking bedcovers out of the way. “Hold on. Take a deep breath. You are safe.” His heart thundered. Holding her shoulder, he reached to the side and turned on the light before facing her. His body went cold. Deep purple bruises covered her forehead and her bottom lip was bleeding. “What the hell happened?”

  She winced and pressed a hand to her rib cage. “Broken,” she grunted.

  Fury heated his torso, and he forced it away. For now. He gently took her other shoulder. “Look at me.”

  She gasped, the sound pained, but her gaze met his.

  “All right. Breathe with me and imagine sending healing cells to your rib cage.” There might be other damage, but the ribs were the easiest to fix first.

  She took several shallow breaths, her green eye darkening to almost match the black one, her lips pursed as she concentrated. Tears filled those eyes, but she did not make a sound.

  What the hell had happened? He had been sleeping right next to her and had had no clue she was in danger or pain. Should he not have felt something? He kept his grip light and caressed her arms, checking for broken bones or obvious bruises. No lumps and no cuts. Good.

  The sound of her ribs clicking back into place would plague him for decades. She gasped, her eyes widening, her body jerking. “Ouch,” she snapped.

  Quite an understatement. He wiped blood off her lips. “Do an inventory of your entire body, from head to toe, and see what is injured.” He kept his voice low and soothing, when he really wanted to swear and yell. Loudly. But that would not help her, and she was all that mattered right now. “You can do it.”

  She shuddered but did as he said, a couple of tears sliding down her damaged face. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Fix your face, then,” he said quietly, holding both of her hands. “You can draw strength from me.” He would give her blood, but she needed to learn how to heal herself quickly if possible, and she was succeeding at the moment. “There are bruises and a cut. Probably some internal damage. Fix it all.”

  This time she shut her eyes, and tingles popped in the air around them. The bruise across her forehead slowly shifted from ugly purple to yellow to a barely there discoloration.

  “That’s all I have.” She opened her eyes and dark circles appeared beneath them.

  Healing could be exhausting. It was the middle of the night, so he shut off the light, gathered her close, and settled them both beneath the covers. “Tell me,” he said, spooning her. “All of it.”

  Her body was cold against him, and she shivered but told him about her journey. He held her, his mind considering different scenarios. He was a soldier and had an enemy to fight, but getting to that enemy was the problem. In addition, if Ulric had the power to pull Haven to his world, he’d soon have the power to gain his freedom. While Quade was itching for the final fight, so far, according to Ronan, only two of the three Key females had been found. In addition, Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood was still a child and not able to choose her own path as the Lock yet.

  So Ulric had to remain contained.

  Haven wound down, her voice lost. Quade held her closer, somewhat surprised when she let him. “When you were traveling, did you get any sense how to stop the portals from pulling you? To close them all for good?” he asked.

  “No.” She yawned. “I didn’t have a sense of anything except trying to fight the pull, which I couldn’t. Do you think there’s a way to stop or end all of the portals?”

  There had to be. “Yes.” He needed to get inside those worlds with her to figure out how, but first, he required more information, and that was not to be found at Realm headquarters. “Go back to sleep, and I will watch over you and remain awake.”

  “No way.” She shook her head. “I don’t need more sleep. Maybe ever.” She sighed. “But I do need to somehow rescue those Fae. They’re running out of time. If it’s possible to stop this type of teleporting, we need to bring them home first. How do we do that?”

  “I do not know.” But he believed the answers were to be found at Seven headquarters. It was time to escape the Realm, whether his great-nephew the king liked it or not. “You do understand that we must mate now, correct?”

  She stiffened.

  Ah, hell. “You have to learn to trust somebody someday,” he said, as gently as possible. “I cannot give you forever, but together, we could save the world.”

  She snorted. “That’s quite a proposal.”

  He thought so.

  She scooted from the bed and stood, wrapping a blanket around her to cover her nudity. “Listen, Quade. This was more than I anticipated, and I need time to process all of it.”

  Sweet little Fae thought she could run from emotion. Fear drove her, and considering her childhood, he could understand. He had patience to give her, but unfortunately, not time. Time was not on their side nor on that of those lost Fae females. “The decision is yours, Haven Daly. I believe you will decide to give yourself to me, and I will protect you for as long as I am able.”

  “Whoa.” She took several steps back, her hair a wild and sexy mass around her bare shoulders. “I’m not giving myself to anybody.” One hand waved in the air while the other clutched the blanket to her chest. “I may decide to mate you if that’s the only way to save those people, but that’s just a working arrangement.” Turning, she strode into the bathroom and shut the door.

  He cocked his head. “That’s not how a mating works,” he murmured. More importantly, that was not how he worked. If they mated, she would be one thing above all others.

  His.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Quade walked out of the bathroom after a hot shower and another shave to find Haven packing their meager belongings in a bag.

  “I want to bring some of the paints,” she said, looking around the room. “Maybe one canvas, if possible? We can leave the finished paintings.” Her nose wrinkled, and she focused on him. “They’ll keep the paintings, right? Not burn them out of anger or anything?”

  “Right.” Quade couldn’t imagine Dage Kayrs burning those works of art for any reason. “Are you ready?”

  She lifted her chin and sniffed the air. “Minty.” Her nostrils flared. “Quade. Tell me you did not eat another tube of toothpaste.”

  He shuffled his feet and moved to throw borrowed jeans into a bag. They were his now. “I did not.”

  “Quade?” She drawled his name out this time.

  His ears heated. “I just had a little.” It tasted so good, why didn’t everybody eat some after brushing?

  “That’s it. We are finding you some candy today. You can’t keep eating the paste—it’s not good for your stomach. More importantly, I need toothpaste to brush every day, and it’s getting harder to steal from people. Will we have time to
go to a store today?”

  He finished with the jeans and borrowed shirts, turning around. “I do not know. This is the first helicopter I’ve stolen.”

  She gulped. “Your brother knows how to fly?”

  Quade kept his expression stoic, when he really wanted to wince. A lot. “Yes. Ronan can fly.” But Ronan had only been back on this world for a short time, so how had he learned the skill? It was doubtful, it truly was. But Quade trusted Ronan, and there was no alternate way out of the Realm. Hopefully, Dage wouldn’t have them shot with bullets. Could bullets hurt a helicopter? Probably not. Yet Quade had learned about missiles the other day, and surely the Realm had some of them? “We will be fine, as you say.”

  “Humph.” She tiptoed into the living area and past it to gather paints.

  He followed. “Leave the canvases. The paints you can put in your pack, but if we leave with a canvas, they’ll know we’re not going for a stroll.” His brother had planted the seed that Haven had trouble sleeping and Quade often took her for strolls outside in the snow to tire her, so hopefully, anybody seeing them would think that the case. He doubted the king would be fooled so easily, but often members of his family had blind spots when it came to family.

  Haven reached him by the door. “This is probably a huge mistake.”

  He nodded. “Aye.” He reached past her and twisted the knob, not surprised to see Ronan waiting against the wall.

  “You ready?” Ronan asked.

  No. “Yes,” Quade said, looking down the empty hallway. Silence filled the lodge at this time of night. “What is your plan for the patrolling guards?”

  Ronan’s eyes gleamed a dark green. “I’ve memorized their patrol movements, and we can time it just right to reach the helicopter bay without being spotted. The weather has cooperated, giving us another blizzard. It will be tough flying but even tougher following us.” He motioned them down the hallway. “There will be two guards standing post at the building, and we’ll have to knock them out. No killing.”