by Sasha White
But as he passed by the risers, his steps slowed. A funny kind of scent wafted in his direction, very light and floral, even sweet. Perfume, maybe. And somewhere in the back of his head he knew that scent, as though nothing more important existed. He might even have stopped but the fragrance faded so he continued his march.
Given the audience, he hoped Luken intended to take the conversation to the conference room, but the moment he drew within fifteen feet, Thorne started in. “What the hell have you got to say for yourself, warrior, that you would hold back this kind of power, when you know how desperately we need Warrior of the Blood capacity right now? Santiago gave a full report before turning in early this morning. What the fuck?”
“The power I have,” Samuel stated as forcefully as he could, “isn’t stable. When it first emerged, it killed several innocent men, slaves I think. And I only allowed it out last night because it was either that, or watch those pretty-boys swamp Santiago.” He frowned. “And despite the fact that I felt in control, which is something I freely admit, I also know that there’s an uncontrollable side to whatever the hell this is. I don’t want anybody else dead because of it. And that’s the goddamn truth!”
Thorne rubbed a hand over his brow. “Okay, that’s reasonable answer. But, shit, we need you.”
“I know that,” he said quietly.
“When did this power emerge?” Endelle asked.
His gaze shifted away from her, away from all of them. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to remember. He took a deep breath. “While I was hanging from ropes in that prison cell in Honduras Two. That’s one reason I’ve never trusted this power. It’s dark, it came from my hatred of my torturers.”
Endelle shook her head a couple of times. “Listen up, warrior.” She angled her thumb toward Jean-Pierre. “You need to put yourself in JP’s hands, and start trusting some of the What-Bees, that maybe they’d be able to handle this dark-ass power of yours and help you gain control of the rest of it.”
He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she shushed him. “Ch-ch-ch! Not a word, asshole. You’ve been holding out and we’re all pissed as hell. We’ve got a full-blown war on our hands and the Borderlands have expanded with activity every goddamn night. So, this isn’t a discussion. You will work with Jean-Pierre and you will like it. Do we understand each other?”
He nodded. “Yes, Madame Endelle.”
“Good. Now someone tell him about Duncan. I’m outta here.” She lifted her arm, and much to everyone’s dismay she folded straight out of room, which set the alarms shrieking. Luken already had his phone to his ear and a few seconds later, the alarms shut down. No one folded in or out of Militia HQ, without express permission, except by way of the multiple landing platforms.
Once his ears stopped ringing, he focused his attention on Luken. “What about Duncan?” The warrior was one of Samuel’s few good friends and had helped him to escape his captivity a year ago.
Luken met his gaze squarely. “Duncan’s missing. We don’t know where he is, or what happened to him. He disappeared while battling at the New River Borderland two nights ago. There’d been so many teams folding in and out of the space that it took almost twenty-four hours before we concluded he’s now MIA.”
“What?” Samuel’s chest tightened. “But how the fuck is that possible?” Duncan was an extremely powerful Militia Warrior and one of two dozen who had been working with Jean-Pierre to bring his What-Bee powers on line. In recent weeks, Duncan had confided that he’d been having visions, similar to those Elise Jordan experience, but he’d know more in the coming months.
Samuel hadn’t seen him in over a week since Duncan’s responsibilities as a Section Leader for the Thunder God Warriors kept him damn busy. Samuel had never been much for socializing in any significant way, preferring battle and clubbing, but he considered Duncan a good friend who had helped keep him sane during the past year, as he adjusted to his return to Militia Warrior service.
He was just about to ask what he could do to help, when that scent came to him again, this time much stronger, a river of fragrance that started wrapping around him. He even turned in the direction of the risers, though uncertain why.
He sniffed the air, and drew more of the flowery scent into his nostrils, which in turn invaded his brain. A strange dizziness descended.
What the hell was that?
Chapter Two
Vela’s gaze had narrowed to a fine point that encompassed the warrior from her nightmare who had saved Santiago, the one called Samuel, the one now turned in the direction of the risers, a furrow between his brows as he scanned the crowd.
From the time he had passed by the risers, some kind of ascended knowing had possessed her, as though she already knew this man. He looked made for war in battle gear, and whether he realized it or not, he had a Warrior of the Blood thing going on with his black hair long and bound in a leather strap. He had moved like war and grace combined, a lethal fluid stride surrounded by a dark aura, and her body had bloomed for him.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Donna whispered.
Vela couldn’t respond. She wanted to, she wanted to expound on Donna’s theme, but her vocal chords wouldn’t work.
The strangest part of all, however, was that she swore she could smell him, that a stream of something warm, male, and wonderfully bitter like dark chocolate, emanated from him.
The scent filtered through her nostrils and began to drift into other parts of her body. Her thoughts funneled down farther to the warrior as though nothing else in this room existed and when his searching gaze found her, something really strange happened: she heard his thoughts like a soft whisper through her mind, She’s the one. She’s mine.
She felt naked beneath his gaze, and the stream of his scent thickened as he took several steps toward the risers. Her lips parted and she shifted in her seat like she couldn’t get comfortable. Her breasts felt heavy and achy. Her nipples beaded and pleasure descended very low until her breath hitched and the deepest part of her began long hard pulls on something that wasn’t there, but needed to be there, the sooner the better.
She felt bathed in pleasure and all she’d done was catch Samuel Daman’s scent and meet his gaze.
* * * * * * * * *
You’re mine. Samuel sent the thought again, straight at the woman in the risers, the one with a mass of wild, long blond hair, and large blue eyes.
A wave of her delicate floral scent hit him, and his breath caught. Her perfume affected the nerves in his body.
Streaks of lightning shot down his arms and legs, firing up his muscles. His neck grew almost rigid. His back started to arch and harsh sounds formed in his throat. He felt his dark power rise, and his mist started to swirl around him.
He took another deep breath through his nostrils. The perfume wafted in, and a new fire lit up his brain. He had to get to this woman.
She stood up and reached a hand toward him.
His vision tunneled down to the tips of those fingers. What happened next became a blur. He ran or levitated or partially folded to her position, he wasn’t sure, then grabbed her and pulled her out of the crowd, holding her against him and hauling her off the risers.
The alarms started shrieking as did several of the ascenders in the risers, though he didn’t know why.
A thundering followed.
Maybe he heard Luken’s voice.
HQ must be under attack, though he didn’t see the enemy, just the room moving in a strange way.
Still holding the woman in his arms, the one he had to get to safety, had to protect with every ounce of his being, he folded her to the corner of the room behind a weightlifting machine. He released her then ordered her to hunker down. He turned around to face the room, folding his identified sword into his right hand, his dagger to his left, ready to take the enemy on, to battle ten, a hundred, a thousand death vampires if necessary to keep his woman safe.
His dark mist rose in swirls around him, that part of his power he c
ould control. He shifted on his feet, turning in an arc. Let the enemy come.
The alarms stopped suddenly.
The workout center had emptied of spectators, which would make it easier to battle what came at him. But Endelle had returned and the other warriors seemed strangely relaxed. None of them bore a sword in hand, which made no sense.
His vision was still off, even a little blurred.
“So this is what Santiago was telling us about,” Endelle called from across the room. “Look how much more defined his muscles are, bigger, too. And that mist is some bad-ass shit! Holy motherfucker.”
Samuel stayed in his battle pose, sword aloft, dagger ready.
“Stand down, warrior,” Luken commanded. “You’re among friends. No enemy here.”
“I heard the alarms,” he shouted, unwilling to relax his guard. His woman was behind him and needed to be protected at all costs, even if he died doing it.
More strange things happened: Thorne started to smile, then laugh. Jean-Pierre followed, which made Samuel completely uncertain about what was happening. These were Warriors of the Blood, all three men, and now Luken grinned and Santiago shook his head.
“Fold those damn weapons away,” Endelle shouted, “before you hurt the woman behind you. Aw fuck.” She turned to Thorne. “You deal with this goddamn breh-hedden shit.”
She lifted her arm and though all four warriors tried to stop her, she folded and the alarms started shrieking again. Luken once more got on his phone and seconds later, the alarms stopped, but he stayed on the phone. After about a minute, he called out, “Samuel, get rid of your weapons. This is a false alarm. Apache Two is locked down and I just got clearance for you to fold your sword and dagger out of here. Now do it.”
Samuel’s head finally began to clear so that he could see Luken was right. He released his weapons, folding them back to his weapons locker. He still didn’t understand what had happened. His brain had slipped into some kind of overdrive that made no sense.
“Are you Samuel?”
The voice, his woman’s voice, played a soft melody over his ears. As he turned, she rose from the floor where he’d pushed her down to make sure she was safe.
“Yes, I’m Samuel.” He stared into large, dark blue eyes, her light floral scent still swirling in his head and fracturing his thoughts.
He forgot about where he was as he stepped toward her, dragged her against his chest, and kissed her. Her arms flowed easily around his neck. Nothing had ever felt more natural or more right.
He had to taste her, to see if the floral scent also had a flavor, and it did. She moaned as he drove his tongue into her mouth, pushing and seeking, savoring. He wanted his tongue between her legs doing the same thing. Then his cock. He wanted his mouth on her winglocks, sucking, his fangs striking her neck and her blood down his throat.
He arched his hips into her so that she could feel his arousal and all that he had to offer, all that he intended to give her right now.
* * * * * * * * *
Vela drove her fingers into Samuel’s thick black hair as he pummeled her mouth. She lived in a dream, one that swirled this way then that, like she was caught in a dizzying carnival ride, and she couldn’t get enough.
She wanted more, to feel him inside her, low and deep. She ached between her legs, needing him.
Even her vein throbbed. She grabbed one of his hands and put it to her throat. He groaned as he stroked her neck and her vein rose for him.
She arched her neck, she felt him shift, she even felt saliva as he bathed her throat with his tongue. He would strike soon. His fangs would pierce her throat. She was so close.
Then suddenly everything shifted. At least three warriors were on Samuel, pulling him away from her.
Vela shouted at them. “What are you doing? Stop this. He’s mine. He belongs to me.”
Samuel started roaring at the ceiling, and more of his beautiful dark mist poured off his skin swirling in the air. She drank it in as Luken and Santiago hauled him backward. He fought like a madman but the men were vampire strong and held him.
She struggled to get to him only then realizing that someone held her back. “Mon dieu, cherie, please stop fighting me. We have to separate you just for this moment. I beg you.” Jean-Pierre, the beautiful Frenchman had her trapped. But why?
She shoved elbows into him and finally whirled and scratched at him. Every time Samuel let out another roar, she fought harder.
“Thorne,” Jean-Pierre called out. “We need Alison here. This is not right. Vela cannot calm down and I fear hurting her.”
She saw her opportunity and kneed Jean-Pierre hard. He grunted, doubled over, and suddenly she was free.
She raced, folded, then landed on Samuel, throwing her arms around him. Her weight, combined with his, took him to the floor. The other warriors reached for him again as the alarms once more shrieked. She didn’t understand all that was happening, but she had her man in her arms and held onto him.
When Thorne reached down for her, she hissed, long and loud and formed a spider-like pose over Samuel. Luken’s face looked like a hurricane had hit him.
Thorne said, “Well this is new.”
Vela understood exactly what had to be done and with a thought, she took Samuel into that dreamy place where she’d lived the recent nightmare, dark around the edges, but still in the workout center. At least now, Samuel was safe.
She still spidered over him, but she scanned the area beyond the boundaries of the dark space. Behind her, Jean-Pierre stood bent over, his hands on his knees, his face red. In front of her, Luken, Thorne, and Santiago stood in an arc, looking confused. It seemed clear to her that though she had a perfect view of all of them, they couldn’t see her.
The dreamy place allowed her to see out yet remain unseen. Exactly what she needed.
Luken shook his head. “Shit, she folded Samuel out of here.”
But Thorne, who had power-on-power, stood back and surveyed where they’d just been. “No. She didn’t. Neither did he. I can sense both of them. They’re still here. Well, what do you know; they’re in the darkening.”
“Que?” Santiago said. “The darkening? That is serious shit. You think Samuel has that kind of power, jefe?”
“No,” Thorne said, peering in her direction but not making eye contact because apparently he still couldn’t see her; he just knew or sensed she was there. “I think Vela does. All right, forget Alison, we need Havily over here right now.”
Luken whipped his phone to his ear and issued a string of soft, calm orders.
Vela didn’t care what any of the men did, so long as they backed off and left her man alone.
She watched Luken shift his gaze to Jean-Pierre, who had remained behind her. Vela spidered, maneuvering sideways so that she could see his approach from the rear, her arms and legs still in a protective arc over Samuel.
Jean-Pierre hobbled in her direction. Oh, that’s right; she’d kneed him hard. Exactly what he deserved for keeping her away from Samuel.
Luken hissed softly. “She got you in the jewels, brother? Ouch.”
She felt something on her cheek and glanced down. Samuel looked at her with a light in his extraordinary gray eyes as he stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful. What’s your name?”
Her need to protect her man, traded places with her desire for him. She’d brought him to safety, still within the workout center, yet not. No one could touch them here. She could keep this warrior with her forever in this place if she had to.
“Vela,” she said. “My name is Vela.” As she eased down onto his chest, and found his lips with her own, as he once more drove his tongue deep inside, she thought forever seemed like too short a time.
He tasted of smoke and chocolate and man. She felt dizzy and aroused, ready to take things to the next level, when a woman called to her by name, “Vela.”
Whoever the woman was, she needed her to go away.
She kept kissing her warrior.
“Vela, can you hear me?”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but she was too busy right now to respond. Samuel had his tongue in her mouth and it felt so good. She hadn’t been kissed in years, not in years, and she wanted more, a lot more. She wanted everything. Now.
“Vela,” the woman called again, more stridently this time. “Can you stop what you’re doing for just a quick sec and talk to me?”
She had her hands knotted in Samuel’s hair and she didn’t want to talk. His hands kneaded her ass and she could feel all his male goodness pressed against her.
“Vela, listen to me. You’re caught in the breh-hedden, try to process that. You’ve never even met the man you’re kissing right now, have you?”
How the hell did the woman know she was kissing Samuel? Even Thorne hadn’t been able to see her.
As though having read her mind, the woman added, “I can see you kissing Warrior Samuel. Can you look up at me? I think you’ll be able to see me, too. I’m in the darkening with you. I have this power, as well. Your darkening ability.”
Darkening power?
She felt the urge to protect her man rise up again. She pulled away from Samuel and lifted up once more to half-spider him with one leg arched between his and one arm curved over him, her fingers touching the soft workout mats just past his shoulder.
She hissed softly, at the intruder, which proved to be a beautiful woman, with red hair, surrounded in a soft glow. Of course she knew her, who didn’t? She was Warrior Marcus’s breh.
But why was the powerful Havily Morgan spying on her, invading her secret space? How had she gotten here?
Havily stood within the black-edged boundaries of the protective place Vela had created, a glowing presence. “You need to go away, Havily. I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t be here. I will die before I let harm come to Samuel.”
