Apocalypse the Blossoming (The Power of Twelve Book 2)

by Miranda Martin

  There’s no mistaking the way he tacked on the word tonight. Worst part of that is I can’t deny how good an offer like that from Tynan would be. I’m not sure I could say no, or that I’d want to. There’s been so much sexual tension between the guys and me, and now to add in the Dragon?

  It’s starting to feel like I’m nothing more than a raw, sexual hive of nerves. A girls gotta get some relief at some point.

  Mentally I exert control of myself and try to tuck away any hint of my desires. I don’t know how well it works, because I see he feels my interest. The way he looks at me, I feel vulnerable and want to run back to my room and hide.

  “Thank you,” I say, deciding to respond to the words he said, and ignore the implications. “I am quite tired.”

  “You’re probably wondering about your friends. I’m sure they’ll be around soon. They have access to the lower lounges.”

  The lower lounges, got it, I think. Something must show on my face, or else he is reading my thoughts.

  “Only the very special ones frequent the higher halls, dear. Tradition dies hard, even in Bunker society.”

  “Tradition flows from —” I start to snap, but I’m interrupted by the dreaded sound of hooves.

  It’s the horsemen of the Army that was released with the last trumpet. I feel them stampeding across the earth, leaving destruction in their path. Cold fear races down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I look around trying to spot the source.

  “It’s they who should fear us,” Tynan says, smiling and certain. “When I hunt with my brothers, I serve up trumpet–fare for our most special affairs.”

  I control my facial reactions, remembering Silas social lessons he put me through.

  He’s completely serious. Of course he is… he’s a Dragon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Efram

  “This isn’t what we agreed to,” I say.

  “No, not exactly,” Rafe says. “But it doesn’t change the situation. We have to do what’s best for Aviella.”

  “We could start with knowing exactly where she is, right now,” I say, frustration mounting.

  “We should go out exploring,” Nathaniel says. “Get the lay of the land.”

  “Silas said she would be taken to the upper levels,” Rafe adds. “Nothing is different than what we expected.”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and count to ten. I have a wild urge to punch the demon in the face. It’s not his fault I’m frustrated. I want to find Aviella. I need to see her, to know for sure she’s okay.

  “Fine,” I say, getting control myself at last. “I’m going out to explore. Maybe I can drum up some work.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Nathaniel says, nodding his head.

  The angel isn’t any better than the demon. It pisses me off that they both seem calm. I know I can trust Silas, but it doesn’t make it any easier to be separated from her. Another trumpet has sounded, and I should be at her side.

  Rather than argue further, I walk out of the small, shared bunk we’ve been assigned. We’re in the lower levels, as they call them here. Everyone is dressed in drab gray coveralls and rushes from one place to another. I fall in with a group heading towards something. They barely give me a side glance.

  “What’s the rush?” I ask.

  “We have to hurry up and prepare,” one of them says, glancing over.

  “Prepare for what?” I ask.

  The leader of the group looks over his shoulder, frowning deeply. “Are you kidding?”

  “No?” I give him my best smile.

  “The contest is only two days away,” he snaps. “Who do you think does all the set-up work? Who do you think makes sure it goes off without a hitch? It doesn’t take care of itself.”

  “I see,” I say, nodding. “Well I’m sure your hard work is appreciated.”

  “The only thing our hard work matters for is, it gives us an opportunity to compete,” another one of the group answers. “I’m going to be selected this time. I’m sure of it.”

  “Selected for what?” I ask, a cold ball of ice forming in my stomach.

  “To be one of the Darlings, of course,” the same one answers me. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “Why are you following us?” the leader asks, glaring. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “I’ll be going on my way now,” I say, dropping away from the group and letting them run on.

  Interesting. I can infer from what I gathered there that they have some kind of regular contest giving the lower-Bunkers an opportunity to move up into the higher-Bunkers. I pass the rest of the day listening and asking questions. It’s not the worst system that I’ve seen. As with most of the Bunkers, the society here is cutthroat. By their very nature, it’s hard to have them be any other way.

  There’s a limited number of resources to be shared among all inhabitants. The laws of supply and demand cause some to rise to the top while others suffer. That’s the nature of man. As an educated guess, the contest for the Darlings is as much about dangling hope in front of the worker class than an actual advancement. I’d be curious to find out what happens to those who “win.” There’s part of me that doesn’t want to know.

  I’ve spent enough time on this and decide to head back and see what Rafe and Nathaniel have found out.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As I walk away from the dinner with Tynan my skin is on fire. The pulsing need and burning desires cloud my thoughts. One way or another, I’ve got to get some relief soon. It’s a terrible situation to be in. So many handsome men, all interested, all wanting me, but not a damn one of them will act. Sooner or later, this house of cards has to come tumbling down. It’s only a matter of who’s going to make the first move.

  I’m just not sure how long I can wait. A girl’s got needs.

  My thoughts are consumed by the dinner. Tynan is arrogant yet sexy, confident—and yet behind that I felt a vulnerability. That vulnerability drew me in like a moth to a flame. I want to unwrap his hard exterior and find that soft center.

  I’m more than willing to admit I also want to unwrap the package of his body. I have no doubts of its perfection.

  No, Aviella, get a grip. I need to push past this. What can I do?

  “I’d like to see my friends now,” I say to the staffer leading me through the hallways.

  “I don’t think they’ve come out of processing yet,” she says, clearly dodging the request.

  “Why is it taking so long?” I ask.

  She stops, turning towards me with a now-familiar fixed smile.

  “The upper levels are not for everyone. I’m afraid they are not welcome here, and at this point in time it would be very bad for you to go to them. So, they are not currently available,” she says, keeping that fixed smile, but behind her eyes there’s something much more dangerous.

  I debate her words. I want to smash her face in and make her take me to them. Lucky for her, I’m trying to be more mature and in better control, like Silas taught me. Silas, that’s an idea.

  “Then take me to Silas,” I say.

  I see the debate raging in her eyes as she tries to find some reason to not take me to him too. I have to wonder, are these Tynan’s orders? Is he trying to keep me separated from my friends? If he is, why?

  “Of course,” she acquiesces.

  I follow her, doing my best to remember the various turns we take as I try to learn the layout of this new Bunker. We go down one level by stairs before we get to his place. She motions to a door without saying a word.

  “I’ll find my own way home,” I say, smiling.

  “Of course,” she says, nodding at last. I’m not leaving her a lot of room. If she was to argue further, it would become more than obvious I’m not a guest. If nothing else, I know Tynan doesn’t want me to think that, no matter what the case may be.

  I watch her leave before I raise a hand to knock on the door.

  “Aviella,”
I say, in surprise.

  Her energy hits me like a crashing wave. Instantly I’m swept up in its embrace, surrounded as it drags me under. Involuntarily, I step back. The power of her emotions and the fire in her eyes takes me by surprise. She’s wearing a beautiful evening gown that accents her perfect curves and reveals more of her chest than I’ve seen. I can’t keep my eyes off that bare skin.

  “Silas,” she says, a tentative smile on her face.

  My eyes are drawn to her full lips, and lust rages to life, filling me. Her sweet lips, burnings eyes, luscious body —all call to me. The urge to claim her consumes me, burning at my self-control.

  “Come in,” I say, stepping to one side and motioning.

  It’s hard to form words. My thoughts are a wild storm of emotions and desire. My own magical energy entwines with hers, twisting and turning together in the same way my body wants to meld with hers. My control is slipping, something that hasn’t happened in ages. Physically, blood rushes to the one part of me that I don’t want to be getting any extra right now. It adds to the distraction.

  She walks past, hips swaying as she moves. Is that an extra bit of swing? The flow of her steps, the way her ass moves up and down, the curve of her side… STOP!

  Control. I am in control.

  I tear my eyes away. Walking past her, pointedly not looking, I go over to the small bar that came with my room. Pulling out two glasses is routine, normal, and it focuses my attention.

  “Would you like some water?” I ask, holding up the crystal decanter so that it catches the light, causing a prism spray.

  Looking at the rainbow effect is sufficiently distracting to keep my attention. It helps.

  “Please,” she says, her voice low and husky.

  I pour water for both of us. It’s pure, fresh water that hasn’t been filtered and re-filtered, unlike any of the other Bunkers. Bunker 3 has the only pure source left on the planet. It’s untainted by radiation or other side-effects of the Apocalypse.

  As I do, she makes herself at home, sitting down on the overstuffed couch and pulling her legs up under her. Avoiding direct eye-contact, I hand her the glass then take a seat across from her. Desire pulses off her in pounding waves. It’s like a driving bass line at an overly loud concert. Assaulting my defenses instead of my eardrums, but the analogy is a good one.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says, swirling the tumbler of water. “No, maybe.”

  She shakes her head, not meeting my eyes.

  “What’s happened?” I ask, leaning forward, drawn in by her.

  “I had dinner with Tynan,” she says, not looking up.

  That explains a lot. The Dragons have this effect on women. It’s part of their nature, a supernatural effect. A stabbing pain drives into my heart, and I barely suppress a grimace.

  “How did that go?” I ask, carefully schooling my face and voice.

  I have to know—but I don’t want to. I want her, for myself, not to share with a being like one of the Dragons. If he claimed her… I’ll what? Tynan is a Horsemen, a Dragon like all of them, but more than that. What right do I have to her? She gives me what she decides; I am not in control of her.

  “Interesting,” she says. “He’s different…”

  “Different?” I ask, encouraging her to keep talking.

  “Yes, powerful, of course,” she says, musing. Suddenly her eyes lock on mine, and my heart soars as my breath catches in my chest. “There’s more to him than meets the eye. Something deeper, a part he doesn’t show the world.”

  “I see,” I say, breathless, consumed by her lips and my desire to taste them.

  “Or maybe he’s playing me,” she says, looking away and breaking the moment. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m working on him,” I say. “He has texts even more ancient than any I or the mages do, I’m trying to gain access. I hope to find more information on the symbols you’ve seen.”

  She nods, distracted and obviously not wanting to change the subject. When she looks at me again, desire burns hot in her eyes. Slowly, sensually, she rises from the couch. Setting the tumbler down on the coffee table, she lingers in that bent-over position. Her breasts sway under the thin cloth. My mouth waters and my cock stiffens, harder than steel.

  She moves around the table, desire given form. Pausing in front of me she places a leg on each side of mine than slowly leans in towards me. I should stop this. I should… but I can’t.

  Her lips close with mine. I struggle for control but the scent of her is intoxicating, heady, like the best of drinks. Rarified air that has to be breathed to appreciate.

  Her eyes burn with desire, consuming me with her fire, as her lips and body move closer. Her breasts touch my chest, my cock pulses in time with my pounding heart.

  “Thank you,” she exhales, her sweet breath warming my skin.

  She’s been through so much, and she has needs. We all do. It will be okay if I give in. Our lips touch. Hers are soft, full, and lush with a hint of raspberry. She moans softly when I return her kiss. My hands move to her sides, fingers tingling with delight as I touch her curves, sliding them down towards her perfect ass.

  Her tongue darts out, seeking mine, and I welcome it.

  Lust. Pure. Unadulterated.

  No. I can’t, I won’t. Not like this.

  She’s too special. This is not the way I will have her.

  I pull back.

  She pushes forward, trying to claim her desire, but I sink further into the overstuffed chair keeping the small distance between us. Disappointment flares in her eyes as her face falls, her lips forming a frown. The look on her face is a more direct assault on my control than anything that has happened so far. It takes all my will to hold onto it.

  “It’s late, lovely girl,” I say. “I’ll escort you to your quarters.”

  She rises, straightening her dress.

  “Of course,” she says, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink.

  Standing, I take her hand, silently, pushing away my own regrets as I struggle internally to keep control and do what I know is right. We walk out in tense silence but by the time we reach her hallway the tension is gone between us. She unlocks her door, and I wait until she steps inside. She turns, leaning against the door, meeting my eyes at last.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, eyes demure.

  The overwhelming nature of my feelings for her rages, swelling to fill me and pouring out. I will do anything for her. I am hers, truly and fully. Including this: I will give her away if that is what she wants. The bond between us is that strong.

  I smile to cover the emotional storm raging inside and nod, unable to form words.

  She closes the door. I wait until I hear the turning of the locks before walking away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  God, I’ve made a fool of myself! What was I thinking!

  Storming around my room, I tear off the dress, almost ripping the delicate fabric as I struggle to get out. The zipper catches and won’t budge no matter how I tug.

  “Damn it!”

  Breathe, calm down

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, holding it. Letting the breath out slowly I open my eyes then reach behind myself and methodically work the zipper. It releases at last, and I slide out of the dress.

  Walking into the full bath I turn on the shower. In moments steam is billowing and the mirror is fogging over. I step under the hot water. It beats down on my back, and the tension starts to ease.

  It’s not that bad. Right? He returned the kiss, and there isn’t any doubt whatsoever he wanted me. There was no mistaking the bulge in his pants…

  Nope, I’m a fool.

  Throwing myself at Silas like some kind of hussy. What the hell was I thinking? Idiot. What would Efram, Rafe, and Nathaniel think? What would Tynan think?

  Why do I care?

  Who am I to have problems like this?

  Ugh, stop!

  Circling my thou
ghts like this will get me nowhere. I know this too well from my time in the orphanage. I was an outcast then with no friends. Damn, I miss Rowan.

  How long has it been since she left?

  I’ve barely had time to think about her, but it’s times like this that her infectious smile and mime antics would lift my spirits. Make me feel less like a fool. I need that.

  She’s with the mages, safe. I hope anyway. In theory, she’s safe. Safer than she would be with me, obviously. I attract attention, too much of it. Dragons taking an interest in me? What next?

  I let the water run over my face, and the tension finally drops away. My thoughts quit circling. Thank you, Rowan. Even when you’re not here, you’re my best friend.

  I want to see the boys. Rafe is almost as good as Rowan at lifting my spirits. Almost, but not quite. He would be every bit as good, I’m sure, if it wasn’t for the attraction between the two of us. Running my fingers through my hair, rinsing out the soap, that thought blossoms bright.

  How, in the name of all that’s holy, am I supposed to balance this? There’s no denying the attraction between me and each of the guys. It’s visceral, real, magnetic, and a dozen other adjectives I can’t think of. Each one of them has a hold on me but each in their own, unique way that is distinctly them.

  If I was to do something with one of them, what would that do to the others? I don’t want to hurt any of them. I want all of them. Damn, I’m greedy I guess, but how would that ever work?

  I don’t know.

  I do know it feels right. There’s something about it that makes the universe click into place, as if this is the way it’s supposed to be.

  I turn off the water, step out, and dry off. I wipe the steam off the mirror so I can stare at myself, dripping wet, hair plastered to my head.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask myself.

  Unfortunately, I don’t answer myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Six