by Rue Allyn
At first, she’d been self-conscious. She received attention from men on a daily basis, she hardly knew the warrior. Still, he’d already taken two bullets and saved her from a demon. More than that, he saw past her exterior to not only her roots as a Dryad, but her pleasures as a woman.
Sabin quickened his pace and she gasped with the unexpected pleasure.
Speaking in a language that Tera didn’t understand, Sabin smiled sensually at her. He continued entering her, diving in, seeking her out. She found herself on the edge once more, dizzied at the sight of the incredible man before her.
“You are so beautiful.”
His voice was deep and thick with want. “I’m going to lose myself much too soon with you, Tera. I need you to catch up to me.” Without further warning, Sabin nimbly brought his fingers to her sweet spot, rubbing her as he continued plunging into her, reaching her deepest crevice of pleasure. With each deep thrust, the muscles of his strong body flexed and the very sight of his masculinity took Tera to a place of sensual dreams. His determined fingers worked her with relentless determination until finally her world shattered and there was nothing but ecstasy.
Best. Day. Ever.
Sabin lowered himself onto the bed beside her and pulled her against him. He whispered something in his language but it was lost on her. Tera nestled into the soft, warm skin and fell asleep in the warrior’s arms. It was amazing how well she fit there.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Sparrow awoke after a much less pleasant night than her friend, with a killer headache. Slowly lifting her head up off the dining table where she had passed out during the ritual the night before, Sparrow realized that her aunts were already gone.
“Man, a girl can’t even get a pillow?” Sparrow grumbled and used the side of her arm to wipe drool from her deep slumber off her cheek. Breathing in deeply, she tried to focus her mind on a glamour charm to mystically cleanse her face. Cupping her hands over her cheeks, her palms began to glow.
Ughh. Sparrow’s head was splitting from the absinthe shots and nightmares, and it was obvious that she was going to have to clean herself up the old-fashioned way. Trudging toward the shower through the empty house, she caught a glimpse of the clock.
She was late.
Picking up the pace, she skidded down the wood hall way and into her large room. Peeling off her shirt, she couldn’t see that her back was a beautiful canvas of painted flight, but she knew each tattoo intimately. The long neck of a swan graced the skin where her spine was, the body of the bird dipping all the way to the small of her back. Diving down the right side of her back was an owl, plunging swiftly with outstretched wings in flight. On the other side of her back were colorful songbirds like the brilliant yellow warbler, and of course, a hovering sparrow.
When Sparrow finally arrived at the coffee shop for her shift, she tied on one of the many homemade, colorful aprons. At ten o’clock, the coffee shop was booming, and luckily, her aunts had come to open it since she had overslept. Morgana and Melissandra seemed to be in quite good spirits as she pushed past them at the front counter and into the kitchen. Obviously, they didn’t have the same caliber of nightmares as she had after their rituals. From inside the kitchen where Sparrow began organizing her baking ingredients, she heard her aunts trying to persuade a customer to try biscotti.
“No, thank you.” The voice was deep and masculine, and utterly sexy. “I’m not hungry.”
Sparrow heard her aunts cackle as they made their way back into the kitchen. She didn’t have to be psychic to realize they were trying to trick Duncan, the local vampire, into a mystically enhanced treat.
“I told you, Melissandra, he’d never take food. It’s always the same, black coffee, untouched.”
“Well, excuse me, sister, if I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try to get him to taste a hexed biscotti,” Melissandra frowned at her older sister.
Heaving a sigh, Sparrow tossed a towel over her shoulder, and consulted her aunts. “What are you guys talking about? And what the heck—you strong arm me into an absinthe binge, and then don’t even bother with a measly levitation to put me in my bed?”
Morgana smiled sweetly and patted Sparrow’s head while Melissandra explained. “Well, Tera said the vamp was harmless, so I didn’t think it’d be a problem to charm the guy’s biscotti with an anti-shirt incantation—oh, and it wasn’t an absinthe binge. You’re just a lightweight, darling.”
“Don’t be such a cougar, Melissandra.”
“I resent that label.” Dropping her jaw as if to imply scandal, the fifty-something-year-old toyed with her long silver and blond-streaked hair. “Besides, he is decades older than I am, I’m sure.”
“I am not a lightweight. You guys just drink too much.” Sparrow threw up her hands in exasperation before pointing a finger at Melissandra. “And you. He looks like he’s my age for crying out loud, so please don’t sign up for Blood Banks Anonymous.”
The three Reeds peeked through the kitchen curtain into the coffee shop to drink in the sight of the vampire. He was stretched out comfortably on one of the armchairs, with faded blue jeans and a Green River band tee. Sparrow appreciated his musical taste, but still didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And judging from the ropes of lean muscle under the grunge band shirt, she wouldn’t be throwing him at all.
After much sleuthing though, Tera had deemed him harmless, and Sparrow had deemed him a good tipper. Melissandra had deemed him eye candy. And Morgana liked to watch her sister make a fool out of herself around the gorgeous vampire.
“So, elephant in the room . . . ” Sparrow finally tried to turn the conversation to the ritual from the prior evening.
“You really think he’s too old for me?”
“No, you’re too old for him.” Morgana slapped her sister over the head playfully.
“I meant the chaos we saw last night in the looking glass.” Sparrow rolled her eyes dramatically, which only earned her a whack on the head from both her aunts.
The bells on the front door jingled and a customer walked in. Before Sparrow even peeked past the curtain to make her way to the register, she sensed something approaching. Something both unusual and familiar.
As Sparrow settled herself at the counter, she watched the young woman approach. The girl was exotic-looking, definitely new in town. Her tan, olive-tone skin peeked out of a bright blue pea coat, and long, raven-colored hair framed electric blue eyes. Eyes that apparently couldn’t be pried away from the vampire lounging on one of the couches. Not that Sparrow blamed her.
As the young woman neared her, Sparrow was sure she sensed an animalistic spirit inside the woman. Shape shifter. Peering over at her aunts peeking through the curtain, she received nods of agreement; they had sensed the same thing.
Smiling, Sparrow greeted the young woman as if she was none the wiser. “Hi, what can I get for you today?”
“Oh, hi. Actually, I was hoping to see if you guys needed any help. I just moved to the area. Back home I was a barista and I smelled coffee so I thought this might be a good place to start.”
Sparrow surveyed the girl’s hopeful, shy face. “Well, you’ve got a great nose and perfect timing.” Smiling mischievously, she paid attention to see if the girl reacted to the subtle compliment on her sense of smell. Generally, animals did have a superior sense of smell. “One of our girls is having a baby soon, so she’ll hang up her barista apron shortly. Let me give you an application and I’ll give it to Tera when she comes in.”
Returning through the curtain of the kitchen to search for an application, Sparrow was immediately accosted by her aunts.
“I sense a feline in that woman,” Morgana voted.
“No, she’s far more exotic. I bet she’s a wolf,” Melissandra quipped.
“I think Morgana is right this time. Feline, definitely. I sensed it. Just say it’s the bird in me looking out for my feathers.” After giving the stranger an application, Sparrow watched the shifter make her way back thr
ough the coffee shop. On her way out, the vampire stopped her. Morgana and Melissandra came quickly out of the kitchen and stood by Sparrow at the register.
“What’s going on? I thought you said Duncan was harmless?” Morgana whispered.
“Here, child.” Melissandra swatted Sparrow with a damp cloth. “Go clean that table over there and keep an ear out for what he’s saying.”
Grateful for the good idea, Sparrow took the cloth and moseyed past the vampire and shifter to wipe off a table. Peering over to where Duncan sat on the couch, she noticed a sketchpad with an intricately drawn jaguar. Seems the vampire knew something that they didn’t. Suddenly, Sparrow was struck by the dream she had the night before. In the violent battle of her nightmare, there had been a vampire and a jaguar. Realizing that she was no longer wiping the table, but was absently smearing air like an idiot, Sparrow snapped back to reality. Still, all she could think of were the ominous scenes from her dream.
She had to get a hold of Tera.
Chapter Thirteen
Tera woke nestled into the warmest, most comfy cocoon she had ever achieved in bed. Her naked body was molded against Sabin’s, her arm curled around his torso. Only a sheet was draped across their lower bodies, the pink comforter a mass on the floor. Lifting her chin, she took in the handsome face of her gentle, yet passionate lover.
“Good morning, Tera.”
If it was possible, his face was even more handsome than it had been the day before. His eyes were calm, liquid blue, like the sea, both transparent and deep. “Your eyes are so beautiful.”
“As are yours, Dryad. You have an earthly beauty that puts all others to shame. The mossy shade of your eyes makes me think of making love to you on the forest floor, and staying there for all eternity.”
The insides of her stomach tightened with a welcome anticipation. “I could live with that.”
The dreamy blue quality of Sabin’s eyes became laced with steely gray. “I wish I could. But if I were to forsake my duties, the Knights of the Fog would be right to hunt me. I would be charged with treason for abandoning my post.”
Tera still felt hopeful, though. She trailed her fingers down Sabin’s hard chest, “You guys don’t get vacations from time to time?”
“To be honest, I hesitate to think of leaving you once this is all over. Now that you’ve tasted passion, I would kill another before they tried to give you what I can.”
“You’re kind of a downer in the morning, aren’t you?” She smiled mischievously at Sabin to try to lighten the mood. “You’re lucky. I was born of a man-hater, remember? After you leave, I’m sure Artemis will be back to whip me into shape.”
Sabin rolled her on top of him so that their noses were touching. “You are my perfect one. Know that you have changed this immortal’s life completely. No matter how many eons of life I have, I will never know life like I have during this time I have spent with you.”
Tera nestled her face deeper against his, and parted his lips with her own, sliding her tongue against his slowly. Her hands traced every inch of contoured muscles as they kissed. Sabin also worshipped her curves as he smoothed his palm along her body, resting on her rear. Flipping her over so that she was on bottom, Sabin smiled. “I hope check-out isn’t anytime soon.”
Tera’s face lit up, her soul feeling fulfilled by Sabin. For a moment, she thought she might finally believe in the idea of a soul mate. “Time doesn’t exist for me when I am with you.”
“That’s the spirit, my darling.” Once again, the couple dove into bliss together.
• • •
Fog hung thick around the heavy stones that made up the prison in the Realm of the Fog, where those who broke the laws of the Portal Realm were held. The tall cylindrical towers that encased the mystically enforced jail were far from any portal. Here in the middle of nowhere, the prison appeared eerie amidst dark violet sky and hazy gray fog. The cells were crowded since the diversity of creatures that traveled in the realm could become quite creative in their violent hostilities toward each other. Just two weeks prior, Sabin had subdued and sent Azra, a Quetzalem female, into the prison for torching a succubus. Quetzalem, a humanoid/dragon cross, appeared stunning at times with their beautiful angel-like wings, but were infamous for their fire-breathing antics. Many vampire species for example, could be torched until they were nothing more than ash.
Third-degree burns were a serious crime in the Portal Realm, especially since for many immortals, flame was the only way they could perish.
Azra appraised the two other Quetzalem demons in her cell. Both were male. Nero she recognized, his tarnished copper scales and matching wings were torn and dirty from whatever events had brought him to the prison. Normally, a Quetzalem’s wings would magically mold into the skin, but his were so damaged they simply hung pathetically. Nero’s eyes were glazed over with permanent fury.
The other Quetzalem, Azra did not recognize. She certainly would have remembered his handsome face and glittering blue scales. The creature’s dark, golden eyes were framed by black hair that hung like lethal blades against his shoulders.
Now the dragon demons sat back against the cold wall of her cell and listened in on the fresh chaos. It seemed as if three Knights of the Fog themselves had been sent to the prison. They cursed in a variety of languages, their usual telepathy communication obviously not whetting their anger.
• • •
“Damn Sabin!” The Knight called Zeth roared, his face twisting with anger. Two fists slammed against the dark stone wall, a faint crack hinting the Knight’s rage. “I can’t believe that high and mighty bastard sent us here.”
“High King Breasal!” Sodor yelled, commanding the presence of the legendary being in charge of the order of the Knights.
Rowen laid a calm hand on Zeth’s shoulder before he could throw another punch at the wall. “Sabin and I have worked closely for eons. There must be something we do not know. And Sodor, have more respect when summoning our master.”
The High King Breasal was the ruler of guidance and protection for travelers and explorers. The immortal law keeper had a reputation as a man to be reckoned with, but he spent much of his time living on an otherworldly island. Only one night every seven years was his island visible to the human eye.
Now High King Breasal was either utterly unmoved by Sodor’s summons, or had already planned to leave them there. Rowen growled, “His Mighty’s lack of presence implies that you have greatly offended him. You should get on your knees and beg forgiveness. Then perhaps he will come.”
Sodor did sink to his knees, but did not speak for a moment. Instead, he took two balled fists and slammed them into the stone floor beneath him. Frustration left a desperate icy-blue fire in the Knight’s eyes. “Rowen. You have always been a voice of reason. I think you may be right. Something else is at work here.” His voice was an eerie calm for a moment, but then the warrior exploded. “Why else would we be left here to rot in our own prison?”
“Recall our encounter with Sabin. He did not even think to fire his weapon at us. Even after we shot him twice. Blood soaked his chest. I’ve seen Sabin withstand much pain, but this . . . Sabin knew our bullets would not kill him. He knew his heart was innocent of the crimes we accuse him of.”
Just then, a presence entered the room via astral projection. Her hair was long, thick black dreadlocks that looked much like snakes. Gold rings were clasped around various dreadlocks, and a sumptuous gold crown graced the top of her head. Only the gold of her crown was covered by a blood-like crimson coating. Sheer black fabric clung to her curves, held in place only by a brooch shaped in the form of a golden apple. “Do you recognize me, Knights?”
“Your broach is the apple of discord. You are the Goddess of Chaos.” It was Sodor who spoke, but they all had recognized her. “You cast the apple that led to the great Trojan War. You are more detrimental to humankind than the Goddess of War herself.”
Eris’ full black lips parted and a deep-throated laugh erupted f
rom the Goddess. “Oh Gods, you do me such honor in your praises, Knight.” With a gaze the color of smoldering embers, she smiled at Sodor. “Perhaps then, you will be the one to do my bidding this eve?”
Realization flooded Rowen. “You pushed the Nunanish through the portal barrier. You have been behind the confusion. You have been getting off on the mayhem and violence.” He shook his head in disgust. “We will have no part in your plans, Goddess.”
But Zeth was still a dark picture of fury huddled in the corner of the cell. His eyes were a blazing purple fire as the image of the Goddess floated toward him. Curling a pointy, gold fingernail against his chin, lifting his gaze to hers, the Goddess of Chaos tried to fuel his fury.
But dismayed by the Goddess’ attempt to use him, Zeth also rejected her motions. His eyes became narrow slits, his massive shoulders held like a warrior’s. “I may be a madman, Goddess, but I am also a Knight of the Fog. My fury will be unleashed, I promise, but only to undo what havoc you have caused.” Zeth gritted his teeth and for a moment, he looked very much like an animal, dangerous and on the edge of attack. “Perhaps, Chaos, it was wise for you to come in astral form.”
“How dare you?” Eris hissed, and her black dreadlocks swayed, appearing for a brief moment like an awakened nest of snakes. “I was merely seeking entertainment, Knight, but now I fear things are getting personal.” She smiled cruelly, her expression both sensual and sinister. “Do you know, Knights? Fury breeds the best kind of chaos.”
Chapter Fourteen
Later the same day, Tera rolled over in bed and gazed at the faux-redwood canopy of the ceiling. A wood-framed mirror reflected how she felt inside. A gigantic, sleepy smile was spread across her face; it was a grin of sheer satisfaction.
“Good morning again, gorgeous.” Beside her, Sabin’s hard, warm chest cradled her body against his own.
