by L A Kennedy
“Perhaps I’ll send Garm in here for the night,” Strain countered, smiling right back at her. Only her smile was a little more unsettling than his ever could be in that moment.
He knew she didn’t care about any of this. Dead or alive, she was good with either outcome. There truly was nothing he could do to rattle her. And he had tried, right down to dragging innocents to her feet and taking their lives. She didn’t blink twice. She would shrug, flick the bloody bits to the floor then go back to picking at her nails or asking for a book to read because she was bored.
Her smile only grew when she saw his. “Fantastic. It’s been several days since he and I made love. He is a dash better in bed than you. But don’t feel bad, Strain. You could learn. Well, if you’d only take better direction. But that Garm, I tell ya… He knows what a woman wants. He’s a fine choice for the night. Thank you.”
Strain let his anger push him toward her. Oh, they’d dance tonight. He would waltz her right into submission and eventual unconsciousness. Standing in front of Sasha, he smoothed her hair back, grabbing a fist of it at the base of her neck and jerking her head toward his.
His pain was instantaneous. There was no pause between action and reaction. His brain registered it immediately. Like jumping into a fire, the burn was there before the first flame was seen. When her knee connected with his cock, he doubled over and brought her to the floor with him. Dry heaving, he held her in place.
Her hitting him in the balls was a sure-fire way to ensure her death. The pain radiating from his testicles left him seeing red. To be fair, Strain knew that if the roles had been reversed, he’d have ripped the cock clean off and willingly suffered the death for it.
“Oops. Like I said, I have two left feet,” Sasha said, her words rolling into a deafening laughter. Her laughter soon faded, as did she. Strain wrapped his hands around her neck and dragged her into unconsciousness.
Strain stepped out of the room, hating her and respecting her. She had balls, that one. In the face of death, she could laugh. Her bravery wasn’t a false one. She was just that fucking tough. A stupid bravery, but brave nonetheless. There would be no dancing tonight. She’d made sure of that. She reminded him of Des, right down to the cocky attitude that would be her death—eventually.
Cursing them both, Sasha and Des, Strain headed out to meet Garm. They had a hunting party to attend, but not before he ordered his men to move Sasha to a new location. He knew the Slayers would return for her, and he wasn’t about to make it easy for them. He urged his men to make it snappy. When she came to, she’d beat half of them to death before they could move her. Spitfire? Yeah, that doesn’t cover it—not even close. She was a wild animal, bloodthirsty, with a killer instinct. What the fuck is she?
Putting her out of his mind, he focused on the night. He was looking forward to the party tonight. Strain knew that even if the bitch had disappointed him, Garm wouldn’t. His little puppets were lined up in a field and waiting, dead to the world until now. With a wiggle of his pinky finger, they were all his.
Divided up into five teams of five, each given a set of orders, they were off and shambling. Nothing short of a true death brought on by fire would stop them. If there was even the most minute possibility of finding their target, they’d find them and kill them. There would be no bargaining. There would be plenty of begging that wouldn’t change the outcome and no answered prayers. Once they were given orders, Strain—and only Strain—could call off the dogs, and he had no plans to do so.
Strain released his monsters into the crystal clear night. Breathing in the fresh air of the forest, he felt alive. He was giddy with anticipation. His hands were shaking with it. He couldn’t wait for the carnage to begin. Putting Garm in charge, he headed home. Only his father could wipe this grin off his face.
The Slayers may have taken Nerissa—who would have proven to be useless anyway—but Strain would have the last laugh. He would sleep soundly. Come tomorrow, the fallout from crossing him would be splattered all over the walls of those he’d chosen to die. The power of deciding who would live and who would die tonight was a flavor all of its own. It was better than the sweet intoxication of bringing pain to Des and Cael. This was better than anything he’d ever felt.
Chapter Eleven
Awake, with a clear mind, Neri had Zylan carry her to see Amity. They sat beside the bed, Neri holding Amity’s hand. Amity’s body was cold to the touch. She was still just as beautiful dead as she probably had been when she was alive. Everything about her, right down to her selfless soul, was beautiful. Amity’s touch was familiar. Being near her was familiar. Neri knew it was Amity who had given her life so she could live.
Neri was in rough shape, but she wouldn’t remain in her bed when Amity was fighting for her return. Neri wouldn’t rest in comfort, knowing that the only reason she was alive was alone in a dark room. She’d forced Zylan to pick her up and carry her to Amity, and she’d been here since. Zylan had reminded her of the risks. When Amity awoke, she’d be starved for blood, and Neri was the perfect little snack. Bane had volunteered to be the first drink, and the rest of the Slayers had followed suit. They had a good supply of blood for Amity. She’d need it. To survive the initial change, she’d need a lot of donors.
Sid sat on the other side of the bed, brushing Amity’s hair. “She likes it when her hair looks pretty.”
Zylan was curled at Neri’s feet, on the floor. “You’ve got it bad. You’ve got the loves.”
Neri kicked Zylan softly in the chest. “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Zylan grabbed her ankle, pulling it back into his chest. Neri knew he didn’t want to let her go. Ever since she’d woken up the previous night, he couldn’t be away from her. Each time she’d try to have a moment alone, Zylan would be hit with anxiety attacks. Together, they had spent the day with Amity, checking for signs of her new life.
Neri debriefed with the Slayers, while watching over Amity. She hadn’t given up any information to Strain. She was proud of that. Zylan and his men were proud of her for enduring hell to keep her people alive. They had found her banker’s box and were in the process of building her a lab for her to continue her work.
“Why don’t you two go get some sleep? I’ll keep watch,” Sid spoke, not looking up from Amity. “This will probably take another day—twelve hours at least. I still can’t feel her.”
Neri hadn’t been tired until Sid mentioned sleep. That one word made her eyelids feel like they were lined with concrete. She blinked lazily, nudging Zylan at her feet.
“Sounds like a good idea. Zy, can I get a lift?”
Zylan stretched out his body, his bones cracking in protest at the movements. “Jeeves, bring the car around.”
Neri grinned as Zylan lifted her into his arms. She turned back to Sid. “Sid, please wake me when she wakes up. Swear it.”
Sid nodded. Neri and Sid left the room, leaving Sid to meticulously groom Amity for when she woke up. Sid’d told Neri that he’d already polished her nails and given her a pedicure. He’d said he wanted her to feel perfect when she woke. He wanted her to feel pampered for once. She’d had a rough life so far, filled with the kind of training that made a POW camp look like a resort.
Zylan moved toward the infirmary, but Neri shook her head. “Please, I don’t want to go back in there. It’s a constant reminder of where I was.”
“Amity isn’t using her bedroom,” Zylan said, walking back up the hall.
“Can I stay with you? I don’t mean to put you out. I just don’t want to be alone. Unless you need to be alone… I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”
Zylan smiled. “You can stay wherever you feel safe.”
Zylan walked to his bedroom, pushing the door open, wishing it looked a little less than a flophouse, bachelor-style. Flipping on the lighting, he saw that his room had been cleaned. There was fresh bedding and candles, with a small sitting area to the right, hosting overstuffed chairs. He knew the chairs. Des had moved t
hem in a few weeks ago, for her and Cael to do morning coffee after their missions. Now they’d been placed into his room. It looked more like a bedroom now and less like a shithole.
He placed Neri on one of the chairs and moved to the bed. A little white card sat at the foot.
You’re welcome, dickhead.
Love always, Des and Cael.
P.S. Talk shit to my Fyrvor for a second time, and you’ll not wake up again. Des says there are clothes in your closet for Neri.
Zylan grinned, letting out a small laugh. He didn’t blame Cael. If anyone so much as touched a hair on Neri’s head, he’d fucking kill them.
“This isn’t what I expected,” Neri said, looking around his clean bedroom.
Zylan ran his hands over his head. “Yeah, it’s not what it usually looks like. You can thank Des and Cael.”
Neri pointed to the chair beside her. “Are you going to sit or pace?”
Zylan took a seat on his bed. He didn’t want to crowd her. He didn’t know what to do or how to act. He didn’t want to pry, but he didn’t want to sit in complete silence either.
Neri slowly stood and started to shuffle over to him. Each step looked as painful as the last.
“What the hell are you doing?” Zylan asked, jumping up and rushing to her side, grabbing onto her arm to balance her.
“I don’t want to be alone, Zy. I’m asking for comfort, nothing more. I just… I’m alone…in my head. I want to fill my own silence with something, anything,” Neri whispered, moving to the bed, Zylan in tow.
He helped her onto the bed and under the blankets. He climbed over her and lay down beside her. He froze when she rolled into him, placing her head on his chest.
“Tell me a story—any story, funny or sad. Something, please,” she asked.
He found himself whispering while running his hand through her hair. At first, he felt uncomfortable, like touching her was wrong. Soon, she was laughing with him, as he told her stories of his first bombed kiss, fighting with his siblings and his first hunt that had ended with him catching a bird and it trying to peck his eyes out. Once his body relaxed against hers, it felt natural. It felt right. He felt like no one could touch them in this moment. Regardless of his path, he would always have this moment.
“Since my father died, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this safe,” Neri said, her voice sounding groggy.
Neri rolled her body tighter into Zylan’s arms. Zylan knew nothing could touch her here. Nothing could hurt her. He would see to it. She had a warrior who would fight to his death for her.
When she stopped talking and her breathing deepened, he stayed with his arms wrapped tightly around her, his breathing matching hers. It was the deepest he’d ever slept. For ten years he’d always been on guard, ready to run from a fate that was nipping at his ass like hunting dogs.
It had felt like they’d just closed their eyes when Bane charged into the room, holding his bloodied neck. “Holy shit, she’s awake.”
Neri jerked, sitting straight up then trying to crawl out from under the covers. Zylan jumped up then lifted her into his arms. He couldn’t bear to watch her struggle on her broken and taped-up toes. With her in his arms, they flew down the hall, yelling at everyone to get out of their way.
Cael stepped in front of the door, holding his hand out. “Give her a moment. She’s just coming around now.”
“Cael, respectfully, get the fuck out of our way.” Zylan’s words were harsh and heated.
Cael shrugged and stepped to the side. “If she eats you, don’t come crying to me.”
Amity stood in the corner, drenched in blood, her eyes darting around the room. She looked scared, caged and starved.
“Put me down, and go to her,” Neri whispered. “Please, help her.”
Zylan put Neri down in a chair by the door, motioning for someone to stand beside her, in case Amity let loose.
With his hands up, he moved toward Amity. “Amity, it’s okay. It’s me, Zylan.”
Her eyes flickered from Zylan to Neri. Her lips curled her face into twisted anger. She stepped forward, hissing at Neri. Zylan stepped into Amity’s line of sight, removing Neri from her vision. Vampyres by nature were highly territorial. That’s all he needed, a fight that ended with him having to kill Amity to protect Neri.
Zylan did the only thing he knew how to do—made himself the target, put himself in harm’s way to protect innocents. It was all he knew. He moved toward Amity, grabbing her arms and spinning her around, pulling her back into his chest with her arms crisscrossed against hers.
This reminded him of watching cowboys on bucking broncos. She thrashed in his arms, trying to get away. He’d seen this happen many times. It took time to come back, time to remember who you were. He would hold on to her for all time, if that’s what it took. It was that or have to put her down, which he’d seen happen as well, when they didn’t come back from the other side, stuck in a state of feral animal. Those unfortunates were revenants, zombies and bloodthirsty with no higher brain power.
Sid joined Zylan, standing in front of Amity. He cracked his neck. “Zy, you’d better be holding on damn hard. I’m about to hotwire her memory.”
“Shit, you can do that?”
“It’s not going to be a walk in the park. It’s gonna hurt something fierce,” Sid said and grabbed onto Amity.
Holding on to her, Zylan touched the edge of the pain, just a taste of what Amity was feeling. She bucked like she’d been electrocuted. Her entire body pitched off the floor. Both he and Sid held on, while Amity screamed one hell of a scream. Their ears would ring for weeks.
On the edge of Amity’s memories, he saw glimpses of Sid’s memories with Neri. Flashes slammed into Zylan’s brain—moments between Sid and Neri, Sid holding onto Neri’s hand as she had been tortured, Sid begging for help, begging the Orygin for aid. Sid had been given a choice—intervene and Neri would die as a result or be at her side and she would live. Sid had wanted to intervene, but his love for Zylan had kept him in the shadows. Each time Strain had come to Neri, Sid had stood at her side and pulled as much pain from her as he could, while maintaining the shadows that cloaked him.
With regret he could hardly bear now, Zylan remembered that each brutal time Sid had returned to the compound, filled with pain and hurt, he’d been met by Zylan and his hate. Sid jerked, shutting down his own memories, then let go and staggered backward. Amity and Zylan fell to the floor. Zylan and Sid kept eye contact momentarily, just long enough for Zylan to know exactly what Sid had endured for the Slayers. One nod was all it took, and both men had an understanding. Zylan would never question Sid again, and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to either.
Amity, no longer in Zylan’s grip, rolled away and jumped to her feet. She moved around Sid, ducked under Cael, shoved Bane to his back and slid on the floor to a stop in front of Neri.
Neri didn’t flinch. “Amity?”
Amity blinked. “I knew you’d make it.” Neri reached out to Amity, who backed up. “Not yet. I can hear the blood pumping through your veins. I can smell your body, just beneath your skin. I do not trust myself to touch you yet.”
Zylan had moved, putting himself between them. “Move back, Amity.”
Amity ducked her head. “As you wish, sire.”
“Wait, Amity? Are you with us?” Zylan asked, feeling like he’d just kicked the one person he owed his world to.
She nodded, her eyes on the ground.
Zylan grabbed her, making her flinch, then he pulled her into his arms. “Thank you. Thank you, Amity. Thank you.”
Her body slowly relaxed. “Sire, I cannot breathe.”
With a laugh, he released her back into Sid’s arms. He hugged her just as tightly.
“All that work to pretty you up, and you’re covered in blood.” Sid laughed.
Neri had Zylan help her to her feet. “Thank you, Amity, for all you have given. I cannot ever repay you.”
Amity took a shaking breath. “Love him. Love him as he loves
you, and that is payment enough. I will find a way to undo this.”
Zylan and Neri didn’t hang around for the remaining feeding. This was usually a private matter for a Vampyre. Sid would remain to make sure everyone made it out alive. Neri and Zylan would sleep—together, soundly and safely.
Zylan carried Neri back to his bedroom, breathing her in, trying to hold her scent inside long enough to stain his lungs with her. Tucking Neri back into bed, he would live the dream tonight. Come tomorrow, reality would set in. Regardless of what Amity had said, there was no way to undo this. There was no way around it. He would have to return to Sola-Nosfer. He would be killed during his Reaping, then he’d be forced to marry Amity and rule over their people. The idea of leaving Neri was a pain too great to dwell on tonight. He wouldn’t hate Amity. In the end, he would treat her well and with honor. She had earned it and more. He would give her unprecedented freedom and love, but it would not be true love. It would be the kind of love you gave someone you respected.
Tonight he’d hold onto Neri, because tonight it was just them. Fuck the rest. He pulled Neri closer. He felt uneasy, like the calm before a coming storm. That’s exactly what this was. She was the calm, and his future was the brewing storm.
Chapter Twelve
“I’ve never smelled anything so beautiful,” Amity whispered, twirling in the hallway, holding her gauze gown out at either side.
Sid leaned against the wall with one foot up, watching her hair twist and float in the air as she twirled. The smell she was referring to was Zylan and Neri and their love. Amity, a full Vampyre for a week now, had wandered the compound, sniffing the air with Bane. With each new smell, Bane would give it a name. Her favorite, by far, was the smell of love.
Everyone had been woken up because of her following her nose and ending up on top of them in their sleep, her face pressed to their hair. No one minded. They were used to odd around these parts. Not even Zylan or Neri minded. Their love for each other had extended to Amity.
