Possessed by a Dark Warrior

by Heaton, Felicity

  Bleu flexed his fingers around her waist and looked between all three men, sending a prayer to his gods that Leif and Fynn would listen to Dacian and back down. They didn’t mean any harm by wanting to take the burden of her from his arms and escort her to the cell, but they were pushing him without knowing it, testing the limit of his ability to control himself.

  His eyes leaped from Leif to Fynn and then back to Dacian, a motion he repeated as he monitored all three of them, constantly assessing them as he fought the deep primal urge to lower Taryn to the ground and lash out at them, to drive them back and eliminate them if they didn’t relent.

  His breathing quickened, heart pumping harder as he prepared himself for a fight.

  Taryn shifted against him, a small movement but one he felt to the very marrow of his bones. She brushed her fingers across his chest, a touch that soothed the ragged and dangerous side of himself, the one still dancing with the darkness that the drug and the bloodshed had unleashed in him.

  “Commander Bleu?” Dacian said, a note of warning in his deep voice together with an unspoken question.

  Was he going to be alright?

  Bleu drew down a deep shuddering breath, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes again, all three men were studying him closely.

  “The male drugged me.” It was a reasonable explanation for his unusual behaviour and one he felt sure they would believe if he added a few details he had intended to keep private. He closed his eyes again and lowered his head, and gods, Taryn smelled wonderful as his breath washed off her hair and her shoulder. His mouth watered, fangs itching for another taste of her. He tamped down that dark hunger and focused on the lighter side of the feelings she stirred in him, the side that drew comfort from her scent. “I was forced to attack someone… a fae female.”

  Someone gasped.

  Bleu lifted his eyes, heaved a sigh and pushed out, “The female dragon stopped me from killing her, and… I attacked her instead. I almost killed her too.”

  Leif rocked back on his heels as if Bleu had struck him with those words and stared at Taryn, disbelief mingling with fury in his violet eyes.

  Bleu had to bite his tongue to stop himself from growling at the male and did the only thing he could do to make them see he was telling the truth about her and the heinous thing he had done as repayment for her kindness.

  He gently lowered her in his arms and she did wonderfully well at pretending she was unconscious, her body so limp he was almost convinced himself. Her arms fell away from him as he leaned over her, splaying out at her sides and making her look as if she was falling through the air. He studied her bloodstained face as he kneeled and carefully laid her down on the dewy grass.

  His beautiful ki’ara.

  He could feel the tremor of her fear in his blood and willed her to feel he was with her and believe that he wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to her. He had gone against her wishes, but the dragon realm wasn’t safe for her and he couldn’t allow her to commit suicide by returning to her brother without him.

  Her violet-to-white hair spilled away from her throat, cascading across the bright green grass, and her head slipped towards her right, revealing the ragged marks on the left side of her throat.

  Bleu rose onto his feet and looked down at her.

  At what he had done to her.

  It was hard to look at her when she was laying on the grass, her knees together and twisted towards her right, hips rotated but shoulders against the earth, and her arms spread at her sides.

  Her throat ravaged and blood staining her moon-white skin.

  She looked dead.

  She might have been if he hadn’t stopped when he had. He had come perilously close to killing her.

  “I did this to her,” Bleu husked. He cleared his throat but it did nothing to remove the rawness from it. “She is not our enemy. Our fight lies with her brother.”

  Leif and Fynn closed in again.

  Leif made the mistake of flexing his clawed fingers around the hilt of his sword.

  Readying it.

  Bleu couldn’t stop the reaction as it swept through him, his defences so battered and heart so bruised that it was impossible to retain control. The male wanted war and he would get it.

  No one would touch his female.

  He had sworn to keep her safe and he would, no matter what it took.

  He fixed cold eyes on Leif and drew his black blade from the air, teleporting it into his left hand.

  He swept his right palm up the length of the sword, transforming it into a double-ended spear. His ears grew pointier and flattened against the sides of his head as darkness swept through him, an oily rising tide that obliterated the light that Taryn had brought into his soul and left only black hunger behind.

  Bleu snarled through his fangs.

  Raised his spear and prepared to attack.

  CHAPTER 23

  Dacian appeared right in front of Bleu, his right hand shooting out to curl around the shaft of his spear and holding it fast.

  “Not wise,” the larger male whispered in a low voice, one that told Bleu to listen and consider his actions.

  It was hard when Leif was still standing on the other side of Taryn, sword ready to strike her down.

  Harder still now that Dacian was standing between him and his female, blocking his path to her, stirring the darker side of his instincts that roared to protect her. The males meant to take her from him. They meant to harm her.

  His grip on his spear tightened and he wrestled with Dacian, trying to tug it free of his grip so he could cut the male down and reach his female. A low snarl curled up his throat and Dacian’s eyes narrowed, blazing violet as his pointed ears flared back against the shorn sides of his head, a show of aggression that only sent Bleu sinking deeper into the dark hunger for violence rising inside him.

  “Listen to reason, Bleu,” Dacian growled and Bleu froze, knocked right out of the grip of the darkness and onto his backside by one single word.

  He couldn’t remember the last time Dacian had used his name without his rank.

  “Commander Bleu is still under the influence of the drug and the torture inflicted by the dragon male. I suggest you back down, Leif, as you are inciting his rage and allowing the darkness to gain a firmer hold on our leader.” Dacian kept his eyes locked on Bleu’s as he raised his voice loud enough that the whole damn valley could probably hear him. There he went again, pulling out the big words. “Unless you would prefer me to send a report to Prince Loren about what happened here and why Commander Bleu reduced your scrawny backside to a pile of blood, skin and broken bones?”

  That was the Dacian that Bleu was more comfortable with, the one he could understand. The warrior.

  Leif’s eyes darkened but he lowered his sword. Evidently threatening to give Leif a bad name with Loren was the best method of keeping him in line. Bleu would have to remember that.

  “Your orders?” Leif said, an edge to his expression that told Bleu he knew what they were without asking and he wasn’t happy.

  “We take her to the castle and I will speak with Prince Loren.” Bleu put as much authority into his words as he could muster, making it clear that he wasn’t going to accept any objections.

  “And get some medical attention,” Dacian added, his rugged face sober and unreadable. “You look like hell.”

  The big warrior cracked a grin.

  As if Bleu needed the reminder.

  Now that Taryn was no longer in his arms, he could feel every ache in his battered bones, every throb in his muscles as they struggled to hold him upright. Her blood was healing him, quickening the process, but he was still weak. He needed sustenance and something to purge the drugs from his body. Not the damned medicine though. Never the medicine. He hated that shit.

  He needed rest.

  He doubted that was going to happen.

  The moment he told Loren about what had occured and what he had discovered, his prince would send him back out to
finish what he had started.

  Dacian backed off and joined Fynn and Leif.

  Wind blew across the green land, stirring the grass. Bleu looked down at Taryn where she lay at his feet, the breeze playing with the bloodstained threads of her hair. The thought of taking her to the elf castle was both a balm and a poison. She would be safe there, because the castle was heavily guarded, but she would be in danger too. Everyone in the castle still believed she was responsible for stealing the sword.

  He would need to make sure she was protected while he spoke with Prince Loren about her and her brother.

  He sent his spear back through his portal to his room in the castle, bent and scooped her up into his arms, and she rolled towards him as he adjusted her weight, her head coming to rest against his bare shoulder and skin warming his.

  He wished he could teleport her to his apartments as he could his weapon, but while he could send items there directly, he couldn’t enter the castle through that route. He had to use the main portal in the courtyard. That meant teleporting her into an area where there were always soldiers around.

  Unmated males.

  He wanted to stay with her too, to keep her by his side, but it would be impossible. He couldn’t take her to meet with Loren. The guards wouldn’t allow it, his men wouldn’t, and even he wouldn’t go through with it, because there was no way in the three realms he was going to place his prince in danger.

  He didn’t believe Taryn was in on the plan with her brother, but he was hardly thinking clearly right now, his brain addled by the incomplete bond between them.

  He had to meet with Loren alone and discuss everything with him.

  That meant leaving Taryn in the care of his team.

  Leif still looked as if he wanted to hurt her. Fynn no longer looked certain.

  Dacian looked as if he would hurt any who lifted a finger to harm her, his powerful arms folded across his chest as he stood guard close to Bleu and his violet eyes challenging Leif to defy his order.

  If Bleu had to choose one of the three to stand on his side, he would have chosen Dacian.

  The warrior was fiercely protective of those he cared about and loyal to a fault. Not only that, but the thought of Dacian near Taryn didn’t stir a black urge to kill the male. Bleu had seen him with his fated one, and the knowledge that he had a female of his own, even one that didn’t belong to him yet, tempered the primal instincts that were commanding him to attack any male who so much as looked at Taryn.

  He would trust Dacian to take care of her in his stead while he spoke with Loren.

  Bleu closed his eyes and willed his portal. He tucked Taryn closer to his chest as the green-purple light flashed over his body and the darkness swallowed him. It felt colder this time, a biting chill that stung his flesh and seared his bones. The darker side that all elves possessed affected everything in their life, including their abilities. The icy air that froze his lungs in the short span of time between disappearing from the land near the stronghold and reappearing in the castle courtyard was a product of that. He had never felt it before, and gods, he never wanted to feel it again.

  He would slowly piece himself back together, purge the darkness from his soul, and find his balance again to ensure that happened.

  Taryn tensed as they appeared, the leafy green trees and neatly mown grass of the courtyard shimmering into being around them. Warm light reflected off the pale grey stone of the castle but soaked into the darker bands. He lowered his gaze from the towering conical-roof-tipped spires of the castle, down the pale gravel path that led from the arched entrance of the building to the circular portal landing area, and then to her.

  Her violet-to-white eyes were huge, speaking of the fear that ran through her blood and through his too.

  “You will be safe here,” he whispered in her tongue but her expression didn’t shift, her dark eyebrows remaining furrowed and eyes fearful.

  Gods, he wanted to brush his fingers across her cheek and reassure her.

  The feel of so many pairs of eyes on him stopped him though and fear of what might happen should any witness his affection for her, see that he was biased where she was concerned, kept him remaining at a distance.

  He set her down on her feet and held her steady when her legs wobbled.

  Dacian stepped forwards and Bleu looked over her head at him.

  “Take care of the female while I speak with Prince Loren.” Fuck, those were some of the most difficult words he had ever had to say. It was hard to remain cold and distant, to act indifferent, when he could feel Taryn’s fear and hear her heartbeat kick up a notch as she realised he was going to leave her alone in a castle filled with elves who all thought she had stolen the sword and was their enemy.

  It was hard to resist looking at her.

  Somehow, he managed it when Dacian pressed his right hand to his chest in a salute.

  Bleu pushed off, the ache in his chest growing with each step he took that carried him further from her. Her eyes remained locked on him as he walked the straight pale path that cut through the orchard towards the castle, searing his back with the heat of her gaze, making him itch to turn back around, grab her hand and pull her with him.

  Filling him with a terrible black urge to fight any who stood in the way of him taking his female somewhere he deemed safe.

  He had lied to her.

  She wasn’t safe here.

  This was the worst possible place he could have taken her but he had to speak with Prince Loren. He needed to speak with him. About the sword. About Taryn.

  About everything.

  His reason for coming to the castle wasn’t solely to report to his prince. It was to speak with Loren about what she was to him. It was to seek his advice.

  His palms sweated at the thought of telling Loren everything, confessing that Taryn was his fated female. He rubbed them on his leathers as he approached the entrance of the castle and nodded to the two males guarding it, their black armour a stark contrast against the pale stone of the arch.

  Gods, the last time he had felt this nervous about entering the castle had been the first time he had come here over forty-two centuries ago, brought before Loren to tell him about what had happened on the battlefield where Vail had gone mad and slaughtered his own men.

  He halted before he reached the entrance, the sound of running water arresting his steps. He turned towards the source of the noise, a fountain off to his left, and diverted course. As he strode towards it, he called a cloth to his hands.

  Meeting with Loren while covered in blood would not be a wise move, not if he was going to convince his prince that the female dragon was no threat to them. Loren leaned towards overprotective, a trait that was good for a prince but bad where he was concerned. The male coddled him too much, and seeing him bloodied and battered would trigger an episode of fussing that Bleu didn’t want to deal with right now on top of everything else.

  He dunked the cloth in the crystal clear water, pulled it free and ran it over his bloodstained skin, scrubbing himself clean. It smelled tinny as he used it to wipe the thick crust of blood off his neck and face. When the cloth was deep red, dripping crimson onto the pale gravel, he sent it away, back to his bathing room in his apartment, and looked himself over. A marginal improvement in his appearance. Deep red gashes still criss-crossed his chest and arms, angry scarlet around their edges, and his skin was still pinker than usual from all the blood, but it would do. He couldn’t exactly dunk himself in the fountain as he wanted.

  The damned thing was sacred.

  He had already gained a multitude of black glares and looks that questioned his sanity by using the water to wash himself off. If he got blood in the water, he would probably find himself strung up in the cells.

  He blew out his breath and quickly headed towards the arched entrance of the castle. The guards eyed him as he passed and he swiftly moved through the ground floor of the castle, his bare feet silent on the cool stone flags. The pale stone walls glittered in the warm glow
from the lights along the ceiling. White statues towered above him on either side of the grand hallway, standing at intervals between elegantly carved columns that looked like pristine flowers made of ice.

  The old kings and queens of the elf kingdom. Loren’s bloodline. Bleu had never known any of them, but he had walked this hallway so many times that he knew every detail of their faces and their clothing.

  He kept his eyes locked on the wooden door at the far end of the wide corridor, exhaled hard and inhaled again, wrestling with his nerves.

  Loren was in the throne room beyond those doors. Bleu could feel him.

  He looked back towards the entrance behind him. The brightness of the outside world made the archway a blur of white light, impossible for him to see beyond. His steps slowed and he turned back towards it.

  Taryn was out there.

  Unmated males surrounding her.

  He growled and took a step back towards her, forced himself to stop and spun on his heel to face the closed wooden doors again. As much as he wanted to return to her and protect her from every male in the castle, ensuring none looked at her and that she was his and his alone, he had to keep moving forwards. The only real way of protecting his female was to explain everything to Loren and request he inform everyone in the castle that Taryn wasn’t the enemy and was not to be touched.

  Or even looked at.

  Bleu growled low in his throat, satisfied by the thought of Loren telling everyone that they couldn’t so much as look at her.

  She was his, and only he could gaze upon her beauty.

  He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and growled again. Thinking like that was only going to get him into trouble—both with others and with her. He had witnessed Loren in the throes of the mating urge, suffering from an incomplete bond to Olivia. He had seen King Thorne of the demons go half-mad with need of Sable.

  He had to be stronger than that.

  He had to keep control and keep a level head.

  He refused to fall victim of his instincts.