Lion of Midnight

by Aliyah Burke

  “You, you, stay away from her,” he warned.

  “What?” True shock tinged Marcus’ tone.

  He crowded Marcus. His brother, half-brother, narrowed his green eyes in challenge.

  “I said, stay away from her.”

  “Back up off me, brother,” Marcus rumbled in a tone as dangerous as his own.

  “I saw you staring at her. Saw the lust in your eyes.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Nik!” Cleo snapped, shoving between them, unaware of the danger. “That’s it. I’m done. I told you he loves his wife. I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but I can’t deal with it.” She shifted her attention to Marcus. “I’m truly sorry about this. It was great to meet you.”

  Nik’s belly heaved with jealousy as she glared at him, smiled at Marcus, and shot him another icy glare before walking off. Nik met Marcus’ eyes and watched the anger recede to be filled with concern.

  “Talk to me, Nik. What’s gotten into you?”

  “I don’t know.” He winced as he heard a vehicle start up and pull away. “I need her.” The anger still raged within him.

  “I know, I know, but you have to stop acting like that. Now, go after her.”

  Together, the men headed for the door. Nik glanced at his brother. “Will it ever be easier?”

  “No,” Marcus replied immediately. “We’re men from a different time, Nik. It’s not in our nature to let another man touch something we see as ours. But, know this—I look upon Cleo as a sister, nothing more. There is no other woman for me than Kit.”

  That calmed him a little, for he heard the honesty in his brother’s voice. “And Kit, is she okay with the—how’d Cleo put it—Neanderthal behavior?”

  “Nope. Kit gets angry like your Cleo. The thing is, I know Kit loves me and needs me as I do her.”

  “I don’t know that.” Nik shrugged into his coat. “She refuses to tell me she needs me. I don’t understand. I can give her anything she wishes. And she doesn’t care. Not at all.”

  Marcus smiled. “Remember how you laughed at me with Kit and how I didn’t do anything normal?” Nik nodded. “I believe our positions have been reversed.”

  “Not helpful, brother,” Nik grumbled. He’s got a point about that, though.

  “Oh, didn’t know I was supposed to be.” Marcus sobered and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, Nik, tell her the truth.”

  “Don’t you think she’d freak out to know I was born at the end of the eleventh century?”

  Marcus sighed. “I meant tell her you love her.” He paused. “Although, the other should be done, as well.”

  “You’re right.”

  With a smirk, Marcus said, “I know.”

  They opened the door and stepped outside. A warning snaked up Nik’s spine seconds before a low roar left Marcus as he leapt off the steps to land beside Kit’s prone body. Nik almost stepped back at the rage in Marcus’ eyes when he lifted the body of his wife in his arms. That was a look Nik had seen once before. Back when Marcus had been the knight known as The Devil.

  Holding the door for him, Nik scanned the outdoors. The feeling wouldn’t end.

  “Brother?” he asked, maintaining his position by the door.

  “She’s okay. Just knocked out.” Green fire stared at him. “Get your woman, brother.”

  One sharp nod and he slipped out into the cold, his body attuned to all surroundings. Striding down the steps, he headed toward the road, staying in the middle of the driveway. Jaw set, arms hanging down in a deceptively relaxed manner. His fingers moved in the leather gloves.

  “Show yourself, Trickster,” he growled in Russian.

  Before him, the air shimmered, and Nik found himself staring at a tall, handsome man with thick black hair and clothed in brown leathers, which were covered by a fur cloak. Arctic eyes with red-rimmed pupils met his gaze.

  “If you call me, mortal, show some respect.”

  “I don’t want your help, Trickster. I want my woman.”

  A creepy grin filled Loki’s pale face. “What makes you think I have her?”

  Rage erupted within him. “Give. Her. Back.”

  “I wonder if she would still want you were she to find out the truth.” Loki’s smile widened and did nothing to comfort Nik.

  Shoving back his growing fear, Nik said, “Cleo loves me. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Really? So sure of that? Women can be very fickle.”

  “Yes,” he insisted with way more confidence then he felt.

  “We’ll see.” Loki shrugged, and Nik felt lightheaded. The same as he had right before he’d begun battling Loki before.

  αβ

  Yelling seeped through the darkness she’d been enveloped by. Cleo rolled to a sitting position and winced. Damn, my head hurts. What the hell happened? She pushed to her feet and staggered, trying to clear her head. Kit! Cleo looked around and frowned. Nothing looked familiar. The screams seemed to get louder and louder.

  “I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” She licked her lips and took note of the dwelling she was in. Dirt floor. One room and a pile of nasty straw in one corner. Her stomach rolled. Brushing the dirt off her jeans, she moved to the door and peeked out. There was no Kit, no truck, and no ranch. Not even any snow. What she did see made her wish she hadn’t.

  “I’m dreaming.” There was a battle going on out there. Men with swords engaged in life and death matches. Some men burned the other huts. “I’d really like to wake up now.”

  Cleo shrank back inside before taking a breath and peeking out, again. A scream left her as a man on horseback grabbed the collar of her coat and shirt, lifting her so she sprawled over his lap.

  “Let me go!” she screeched.

  His hand smacked her ass, hard, and Cleo squirmed even more. Pretty soon, she slid coatless to the ground and landed face first in a mud puddle. On her hands and knees, spitting out what she’d just ingested, Cleo scrambled away. A hand grabbed her ankle and flipped her over. With another scream, Cleo kicked out with her other foot. The crunch of his nose under the heel of her hiking boot reached her. So did his cry of pain.

  Clambering back, Cleo whimpered as his bearded face took on an ugly scowl. Fear lanced through her when he withdrew a sword. Heart pounding, Cleo made one last-ditch effort to get away. It didn’t work; the sword-wielding man cornered her against a hut.

  Anytime you wanna wake up, now would be just fine by me!

  It seemed surreal, in slow motion, as she watched the sword rise and begin to fall. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the blow. It never came. A ring of metal on metal did.

  “Run, Cleo!”

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of her name. And her mouth dropped open. Between her and the psycho with the sword stood Nik. But not. This Nik wore leather pants and boots with nothing on his upper body. She ogled at his muscles as he wielded his own sword. Holy crap! The sun glinted off the studs on his black arm guards.

  “Run!” he ordered, again.

  This time, she obeyed. However, she didn’t go far. Pausing at the edge of another hut, she turned back to watch. Nik was spectacular to behold.

  This is definitely a dream. Nik’s body was covered by a sheen of sweat as he dispatched one man and turned to face the next. Odd, the blood seems to be real. The monstrous blade Nik brandished lost its silver sheen and became stained by the blood. This isn’t right. Cleo watched harder at the sword as he clashed with others. I’ve seen that somewhere before. Legs unable to hold her anymore, she sank to the ground and closed her eyes. “This is too much. I want to wake up now.” The tapestry.

  Footsteps in mud prompted her to open them. Six pairs of feet surrounded her. Shit! “Hi,” she mumbled, looking up. Their gazes ranged from dislike to lust and a few things in between.

  “Nyet!”

  A loud voice ripped through the air. The men stepped back three per side, and she had a direct view of Nik looking up at them, his booted foot pushing on a guy’s body pierc
ed by the end of his sword so he fell to the ground. Cleo clamped her mouth shut so she didn’t puke. Nik didn’t even look at the body pooling in its own blood. His face was set, sword in one hand, blood dripping with each step he took and his rosette eyes fixed firmly upon her face.

  Cleo began to stand. One man reached down to help her but stopped when Nik slashed his eyes to him. She wouldn’t be surprised if Nik had hissed at the man. Nik’s eyes glowed with possessive fire and worry as they drilled back into hers. Stopping before her, he never said a word, just hauled her close with his free arm and dominated her with a kiss. Her legs trembled as his tongue thrust deep into her mouth. Her body pulsed as it grew wet. Nik ended the kiss, his eyes still not gentle.

  “I told you to run,” he growled. Looking at the others, he barked some orders she couldn’t understand.

  Cleo tried to step back, but his grip shifted to her arm, and he propelled her off to the interior of one hut, which thankfully wasn’t burning. She tripped and jerked free of his hold when she regained her feet.

  “Stop it!” she snapped.

  Nik glowered down at her. “Why did you disobey me?”

  “Are you serious? Oh, my God, I need to wake up! Can you do something with that thing?” She pointed at the bloodied sword. Wiping her head, Cleo felt the cold smear of mud across her skin. Nik rested the sword against the crumbling wall and reached for her. “No! No!” Cleo held up her hands to warn him off. “Don’t touch me.”

  Pain flashed through his gaze before it was masked under a veil of cold, calculating indifference. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the man who had the ability to turn her world upside down with a mere glance.

  “You’re him, aren’t you?” He remained silent, just staring at her. “The one they call the Lion of Midnight.”

  Nik grabbed his sword and stepped toward her. Cleo couldn’t stop the squeak from escaping. His brown eyes narrowed, but he never slowed.

  “Yes,” he said, reaching for her.

  She backed up, holding up her index fingers. “Don’t touch me.”

  “We need to go, Cleo,” he told her, the words forced through a clenched jaw.

  “I ain’t going with you. I want to go home.” Stay calm. Breathe deep. Her internal advice wasn’t working.

  “Willingly or by force, Cleo. Your choice, but I won’t leave you here alone.”

  Cleo wanted to scream and fight, but one look in his determined face, and that idea vanished. Glaring at him, she skirted a wide path around him and went for the door. Six men sitting on massive horses stared at her. At the head of the men stood a large gray horse.

  Her breath caught when Nik moved past her to the horse. While he spoke to one of the men, she focused on the way Nik’s leather pants molded to his lower half. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? She swallowed when he bent over and picked something up. Cleo continued to stare as he cleaned and sheathed his sword on the horse before grabbing a shirt and pulling it on.

  A sharp nod and as one the six rode off without looking back. Nik ran a hand through his hair and walked toward her. Raw power poured from him. Black leather pants, an off-white sleeveless shirt, and black guards on his forearms made one hell of a sight. Damn, that man is hot!

  “Where’d they go?” she asked when he stopped before her.

  “I sent them ahead.”

  “Why?”

  Flames licked his eyes. “None of them would stand against me, Cleo. Had they stayed, they were well aware you belong to me.”

  “I don’t belong to you!”

  “The hell you don’t. You are mine, Cleo, and I swear to you, I’ll kill any man who lays a hand on you.”

  “Go to hell, Nikolas Andreyevich!” she ground out.

  Nik shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cleo. I know you hate me right now, but you need to listen to me. This isn’t your time. Here, women are property.” He held up a hand, warding off her retort. “Listen to me. I love your independence, your fire, but you—” He threw up his hands. “Never mind.”

  Why is he scowling?

  “Let’s go,” he said. She watched him go back to his horse and swing on. He rode off a bit and looked back.

  Is he serious? “So, I’m to walk, then?” she bit off.

  “You were the one who said for me not to touch you,” he reminded her.

  She growled low. “Are you getting me out of here?”

  “You mean away from me?”

  Cleo shrugged, declining to answer. Instead, she shoved her hands in her pants pockets, walked toward him then passed him without a word.

  My feet hurt. My legs hurt. Everything hurts. Cleo knew they’d been walking for nearly three hours. Well, I’ve walked. He’s been riding. She kept ahead of him, refusing to look back or even speak to him. A rumble of thunder shook the heavens. A glance up told her what she didn’t want to know. A few seconds later, it was confirmed as her clothes were plastered to her skin. Well, I should look on the bright side. I’m no longer caked in mud. She groaned and kept walking.

  “Cleo.” Nik’s voice filled the air, much like the thunder had.

  Grinding her back teeth, Cleo kept walking.

  “Damn it, woman!” He rode up, reached down, lifted her clean off the ground, and settled her across his lap.

  She wanted to struggle. She wanted to scream. She did neither. Cleo sank into his embrace, cursing how his touch made her feel. It no longer mattered her wet clothes were molded to her body. Nik’s heat warmed her completely.

  “You stubborn, hard-headed…” He trailed off and wrapped his arms around her. Turning the horse around, he pressed his lips to her wet temple.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m getting you out of this rain. There was a small house back there.”

  I didn’t see it. “And you know the people who live there?”

  “No one’s living there. My guess is they’ve been captured or killed.”

  “You know, there’s no need to tell me these kinds of things,” she snapped.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, snežinka.”

  Heat spiraled from her feet up. How is it a word I don’t even know the meaning of can make me feel safe? “What do you call not telling me you’re…what, a bit over nine hundred years?”

  His horse whickered, and Nik said, “Once we’re inside, snežinka. Wait here and let me check it out.”

  He kissed her cheek and dismounted before she could say a word. The lack of him pressed against her made the chills begin, again. Water seemed to seep into her skin. At least this horse is behaving. She shivered. I feel like a bloated tea bag.

  “Come, snežinka.” With those words, Nik reappeared by her side.

  In the fading light and steady downpour, Cleo peered down at the man reaching up for her. Exhaustion swamped her, along with fear, so again, there was no resistance to his outstretched arms. She slid toward him and let him lower her to the ground. Cleo didn’t say a word, just waited as he opened what passed as a door.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Alone, Cleo hesitantly scanned the small space. “Well, not a vacation hideaway.” The door creaked, and Cleo glanced over to see the doorway filled with a soaked Nikolas Andreyevich holding his saddle, trappings, and weapons. He looked around and set the items down on the hard-packed floor.

  “I’ll have a fire for you, in a moment.”

  Cleo shrank into herself as he moved by, once again, extremely overwhelmed by what apparently was not a dream she just couldn’t wake from. Nik busted a stool, and soon, a small fire burned.

  “Stand near the flames, Cleo. You need to dry out.”

  She obeyed instantly. Her coat had been left behind at the other place so she only wore a lighter long-sleeved shirt. Cleo bit back a whimper when Nik whipped off his shirt, wrung it out, and hung it over the three-legged table. The firelight made his tan skin golden, and she couldn’t drag her eyes away. His hair, darkened in color by the rain, continued to release droplets onto his shoulders. Some of that
moisture trailed down his chiseled body, dipping over each defined pectoral and abdominal. Cleo traveled her gaze over the tight fit of his black leather pants. Her eyes glued to the juncture of his thighs, she licked her lips.

  He cleared his throat.

  Cleo looked up, ashamed she’d been caught. Nik watched across the small fire at her. His struggle to control his desire, obvious.

  “Cleo,” he began. “You need to get dry. Take your shirt off, wring it out, and draped it on the table by mine.” Her suspicion must have been all over her face. “Please, Cleo. I don’t want you sick.”

  She could see his internal war not to force her to do so. Cleo grabbed the hem of her shirt and drew it off over her head. Refusing to look at Nik, she wrung out the excess water and placed it on the table. She could feel his eyes on her, but Cleo remained steadfast and wouldn’t look at him. Still, she snuck a peek when he walked by into the other room. Damn! That man is fine! Tilting her head to the side, Cleo squeezed out more water from her hair.

  “Come, give me a hand, snežinka.”

  Before she realized what happened, Cleo found herself moving through the doorway to find Nik bent over a wooden pallet. Her nose flared as she ogled his body. The sound of rain hitting the floor made her shiver.

  “Grab the other side for me.”

  Slipping by him, Cleo did as ordered. Once she saw the item, she knew he was more than capable of moving it on his own and figured he was trying to keep her mind busy. Together, they left the leaking room and carried the pallet out to rest against the wall facing the door. He grabbed some things from by the saddle and quickly laid furs on the wood.

  “Won’t be as comfy as some of the beds we’ve shared. But we’ll be dry.” Nik sent her a small smile.

  How can he be happy?

  His expression sobered. He stepped toward her, and Cleo stiffened. Nik slowed but didn’t stop until he stood right before her. One hand reached out and skimmed the outline of her face, close but never touching.

  “Can I touch you, snežinka?”

  “I want to go home,” she said on a sob.

  “Tell me it’s okay to touch you, snežinka. Let me comfort you.”