by Sasha White
Samuel’s hand was once more on her face, then on her breast, fondling. Her long hair covered his arm and hand. “Come back to me,” he whispered urgently. “I need you.”
She looked down at him. “Havily is here.”
“Make her go away. I need you.”
Vela shifted to glare at Havily. “You need to leave.”
“I will, if you’ll just talk to me for a minute. Otherwise, I’ll have to stay. I’m under orders.”
Vela’s arms trembled holding her pose, but she wasn’t about to let anyone get Samuel. He still lay prone, one hand kneading her breast.
She caught his hand and held it still as her mind cleared a little. Havily had spoken of the darkening. So had Thorne. Was this place the darkening? She needed to understand.
She met Havily’s gaze. “You can have one minute, then you’ll have to go.”
“Good,” Havily said. “I have just a few questions. Can you tell me how long you’ve known Warrior Samuel?”
Vela looked down at him and smiled. “Forever.”
She heard Havily chuckle. “I know that feeling well. But when did you first meet him?”
At that, Vela frowned and looked back at Havily. “I…can’t quite remember.”
“Have you ever met him? I mean, been introduced?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“So when did you first see him then?”
Vela leaned back just a little and her thoughts began to come together. “I was sitting on the risers when he walked by.”
“Then what happened? May I ask?”
She nodded. “I caught this wonderful scent, almost like chocolate, but very male.”
“I don’t usually tell people this, but my breh, Warrior Marcus, smells like a field of wild grasses combined with fennel.”
Vela smiled. Havily understood. Havily knew.
Then she remembered Madame Endelle saying something about the breh-hedden.”
“This is the breh-hedden,” Vela said, a rush of understanding ripping through her. “Oh, my God.”
“Very much so.” Havily held her palms up. “I went through something similar with Marcus during those early days. Luken dragged Marcus off of me and Antony held me back. It was…horrible. But later, I was completely mortified. I’m saying this so that you’ll know you’re not alone in what you’re probably feeling right now, or what you will soon experience.”
Vela shifted her spidery arm and leg so that now she knelt beside Samuel. Her heart started pounding and her cheeks felt fiery hot. “Oh, my God. No.”
She shifted away from Samuel, who sat up and stared at her not with lust, but with a puzzled expression. The dimming of her possessive, sexual feelings seemed to be having an effect on him.
Havily’s presence had done what otherwise would have been impossible. She’d essentially stopped them from having sex, in the darkening, right in the middle of the Apache Junction Two Militia Warrior Headquarters workout center.
She scooted back on her knees. “Warrior Samuel, oh, my God. I don’t know what happened.” Havily was right about one thing; Vela didn’t know him at all.
And she was mortified beyond words.
He reached his hand toward her but let it fall away before he made contact. “I am so sorry,” he said. “The need of the moment overwhelmed me. Jesus.”
But as she looked into his eyes, the power of the breh-hedden began to descend on her once more, especially as another wave of his erotic chocolate scent swamped her.
His gray eyes grew wild once more. “Yes,” he said, his gaze smoldering, boring into her. She felt herself falling back into the experience, as though to do anything else would be to defy the heavens.
“Vela,” Havily called sharply.
She drew in a deep breath and shifted her gaze back to Havily. “Oh, dear God.”
“You’ll be okay. That’s it. Just breathe. And if you can move away, it will be even better for you, or at least easier.”
Vela scooted a few feet back on the mats. She reminded herself that she didn’t know this man and that he was the last thing she wanted in her life: a warrior.
She closed her eyes and forced air deep into her lungs. After a moment, when she opened them, she spoke to Havily. “Could you give us a minute? We need to sort this out?”
Havily nodded and disappeared, though a faint glow, like a trace, remained behind, an after-signature.
“If we’re going to talk,” Samuel said, “I’ll need more distance. I’m barely holding on here because all I can think about is pulling you into my arms.”
She jumped to her feet because if she didn’t she’d let him do whatever he wanted to do.
“Thank you,” he said. He crossed his legs, his kilt looped into his lap. He stared at the black mats on the floor then shaded his face with one hand. “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered.
She took another step away from him, but couldn’t keep from staring at him. He was incredibly handsome with strong cheekbones angling to an equally powerful jaw. His nose had a slight curve, maybe not as marked as Warrior Santiago’s, but for her much more appealing.
Samuel. The word floated through her mind. She caressed his name again, Samuel.
He looked up at her. Telepathy?
Her cheeks grew warm again. Yes. You heard me call your name?
He nodded.
You spoke into my mind earlier, she sent. You called me your woman.
At that he shook his head, and with his forearms resting on his knees, he said, “I only vaguely remember. The moment you stood up, I had to go to you, to get to you.”
“The breh-hedden.” She said the word out loud so that she could start making sense of it. The call to him was still there, a ferocious beast that for now she had caged, but she’d never felt anything like this, like she had to be with him, be near him, touch him, take him into her body in as many different ways as she could, and do it now.
At the same time, she felt compelled to tell him of her dream. “I saw you battle last night.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how, but I think I was in the darkening and I felt called to the Superstitions. I watched the battle, how you saved Santiago. I just didn’t know who you were.” She told him several details of the terrible encounter, that he hadn’t been in wing-mount, and that he’d used both levitation and folding skills to slay the enemy.
“My God,” he said. “Do you do this often? I mean do you have these kinds of visions about other warriors?”
Her heart sank. “Never. This was the first time.”
“Then we’re connected somehow.” His jaw worked a couple of times. He pressed his lips into a grim line.
Unfolding his legs, he rose , towering over her not just with his height but with his powerful physique. She was five ten, so she wasn’t exactly short for a woman, but he made her feel petite.
“You don’t need to worry,” he said, his brows pinched once more. “I won’t come after you. I’ll leave you alone.”
She sensed a deeper meaning behind his words, behind his intention, that he’d just spoken his natural state, his isolation. What had her friends told her earlier, that Samuel never came to the workout center, that he’d been held captive for a decade and tortured, that though he was back, serving the Militia Warriors, he essentially kept to himself?
“I’m sure that would be for the best.” Yet doubt squirmed.
The past few years suddenly ripped through her mind. She realized that what had just happened between them, this sudden onslaught of the breh-hedden, had somehow illuminated what now looked like her dreary existence.
And yet, she didn’t want a man like Samuel in her life, never again. She and Jeff had been married for over six decades and all that time, day in and day out, she’d lived with the possibility that he would die in the line of duty. Then the night had come when he’d been ambushed by death vampires and her life with him had ended.
She hated the war, its seemingly endless
nature. Even getting rid of Greaves had only shifted the ongoing conflict and in some ways had made it worse. In one month, the activity at all the Metro Phoenix Two Borderlands had quadrupled, putting heavy pressure on those warriors assigned to Borderland duty.
“This was my last day at HQ,” she said. “I’m transferring to Fiona’s rehab center to begin my counseling internship. I start next week.”
At that, he met her gaze. She knew the tight set of her lips matched his now.
He nodded. “You’ll be doing important work.”
“What I did here was important work, just different.” She drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m committed to building a new life for myself and that doesn’t include connecting with warriors on any level. I’m…I’m not built for this. Do you understand?”
He nodded and his frown deepened.
“Okay.” She believed they’d reached an understanding. “But I’ll probably have to touch you to take you out of this place.” Her instincts told her that much.
“So where are we exactly? Do you know?”
Vela thought about Havily and all that she’d said. “I’m pretty sure we’re in the darkening.”
He whistled. “You have that kind of power?”
She shrugged. “Apparently, but I’m not happy about it.”
At that, he smiled, a kind of weary smile that squeezed her heart. He huffed a sigh. “I can relate,” he said. “Oh, boy, can I relate.”
In this moment, she knew two things; Samuel was too damn attractive and she actually liked him.
Without giving him a warning, she closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of his arm, and took him on a quick ride out of their hiding place.
She released him at once, letting her hand fall to her side. She flexed her fingers several times but other than that, she didn’t move away from him. She felt a powerful need to remain close.
Everyone had left except Havily, Jean-Pierre, and Luken.
Luken then gave the orders. “Vela, we’d like you to go with Havily and talk this over with her, even take a couple of trips into the darkening and explore this power with her.” His gaze shifted to Samuel and he drew in a deep breath. “I’ve persuaded Thorne and Endelle to back off a little. I reminded Thorne that when Marguerite left Second Earth he actually abandoned his post to follow her. But we both agree on one thing, that you need to work with Jean-Pierre and get this power of yours figured out. You already know that one of Jean-Pierre’s gifts is facilitation, so will you at least agree to work with him?”
Vela glanced up at Samuel. He met her gaze briefly, but his jaw looked pretty stiff. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, “but if I feel anyone’s in danger from the nature of my power, I’m out of here.”
Warrior Luken opened his mouth to speak, but apparently rethought his words because he closed his mouth, nodded, then said, “We thought when Endelle defeated Greaves that we would enjoy a long period of peace, that, moving forward, our primary tasks would be to dismantle his army and pursue every last death vampire he created to the ends of the earth. Then our job would be done.
“We didn’t anticipate three generals off the grid with nearly a million warriors under their different commands. But that’s what we’ve got. One month after the battle at White Lake, and we’re in deeper than ever. You know this.”
“I do,” Samuel said.
Luken met his gaze squarely. “Do your best. No leader can ask for more.”
“I will.”
Luken’s lips curved. “And you always have. Plus, I can think of more than one time you’ve had my back in the field over the past few months.” He glanced at Vela. “Will you do the same, Ascender Vela?”
“Yes, of course.”
He smiled softly. “I knew your husband. He was a good man.”
“One of your finest,” Vela said, her throat closing up tight.
Luken nodded several times. “I have to go now. I have assignments to pass out at the Cave.” He glanced from Havily to Jean-Pierre. “If you’ll report in later, that would be great.”
After both Jean-Pierre and Havily nodded their assents, Luken headed toward the doors and the long march to the landing platforms.
Havily met Vela’s gaze, her eyes full of compassion. “Why don’t we go to my office at Administrative HQ?”
She inclined her head toward the same doors through which Luken had just disappeared. Vela agreed and put her feet in motion. But each step felt strange, like she was leaving something important behind, maybe the most important thing in her long ascended life.
* * * * * * * * *
Samuel’s head had finally cleared, but he was still reeling.
The breh-hedden.
He didn’t get it. Why him?
Jean-Pierre headed to the closest set of risers and waved Samuel forward to join him. Samuel followed.
Jean-Pierre sat down then stretched out his long, lean muscular frame by planting his elbows on the riser step behind him and crossing his feet at the ankles. “You must tell me what is going on with you, Samuel. I have learned something during these months of training so many different Militia Warriors. There are times when only drills and working hard will do, but right now I believe we must talk.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bench to his right.
Samuel knew this had to be done but he didn’t like it and he was definitely too tense to lean back like Jean-Pierre. Instead, he sat forward, his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together, his thoughts still full of Vela and the breh-hedden, of the last glimpse of her thick, wavy, unruly hair swaying behind her as she walked away.
He glanced at Jean-Pierre. He thought for sure that the strange vampire mate-bonding that had been making its way through the Warriors of the Blood, would have taken down another What-Bee this time, instead of his own fucked up self. But then Gideon had been struck by the myth and he was still a mere Militia Warrior, although everyone agreed he fought at Warrior of the Blood status.
But Gideon deserved the accolade, the power. He’d been a leader among the Thunder God Warriors for a long time.
Samuel only served as support to another Section Leader, and part of that time he’d been roped up, tortured, and now endowed with some kind of power, a portion of which he couldn’t control. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He could have hurt Vela when he released his power. That he hadn’t seemed like some kind of miracle.
Jean-Pierre spoke forcefully. “Tell me about your dark power, mon ami. Tell me what you fear about its nature.”
“This power,” he began, his gaze dropping to the nearest black mat, “came out of my captivity, as a direct result of what I went through, how I survived.” His sense of rage and shame descended on him like a waterfall of remembered pain. The experience was a blur of hurt, blood-hunger, and food starvation. He’d blocked out a lot of it, but there were times, especially during the first few months of his release, when he woke up sweating and half out of his mind.
During the years of his captivity, his survival had required that he grow in strength, but what had come of it was a dark power that he couldn’t control. For the entire last year, while tortured, he’d released the smoky misty from his body, but up until the moment that Duncan showed up, his power had been benign.
Maybe seeing Duncan had jump-started the other part of his dark power, the uncontrolled part, but he’d never really know. Streams of energy had started to pour from him, in addition to the smoky mist, and through the Creator’s grace he’d been able to warn Duncan to fold the hell out of there. But the slaves, unable to leave the grounds, had perished to the last man and Samuel lived with the guilt of those undeserved deaths.
He’d always liked the Frenchman, trusted him. For that reason, he told Jean-Pierre everything, his voice low, the words flat as they left his mouth.
“Merde.” Jean-Pierre shook his head slowly back and forth. “And you say when you escaped, these streams of energy reached out and attacked those around you, without discrimina
tion?”
“That’s the best way to explain it.”
“I understand now why you held back. I apologize for yelling at you.”
“You were just doing your job. The problem is that when I release the mist-based part of my power, I can never feel the streams, so I have no way of knowing what they are or what would cause them to appear.” Still leaning forward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “And now the breh-hedden.”
“Oui, and now the curse-that-is-not-a-curse. I understand your woman is to work at the rehab center with my breh, with Fiona?”
He nodded. He wanted Vela to go on with her plans, to fulfill a dream that had nothing to do with death vampires and darkening work. “I don’t want to see this power developed or utilized.”
“Mais, Samuel,” Jean-Pierre said, his French adding another syllable to his name, “You cannot deny that you single-handedly saved a Warrior of the Blood last night. So, how can you say your power should not be encouraged, brought forward, strengthened? You battled like a Warrior of the Blood. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but what if I killed someone accidentally. I couldn’t live with that.”
“Then we should work together, you and I, in a controlled space, with no one else around.” He even smiled. “I am not without power myself, so I believe I could take these streams because, as you said, they did not kill immediately, but took some time.”
“But I couldn’t stop them. That’s my point. I watched these men die.”
“Will you let me help you, if I am able? Perhaps this will become more about separating these powers, encouraging the dark mist and accompanying power while perhaps setting shields in place to block the energy streams.”
He turned and met Jean-Pierre’s gaze. “That would be the right place to begin. But are you sure.”
Jean-Pierre narrowed his gaze. “If you feel the streams emerge, warn me, and I will fold.”
Samuel rose to his feet. “Then let’s do this thing.”
* * * * * * * * *
Vela stood with her back to Havily’s office. She stared out at the fading eastern landscape, a view of the desert that stretched for miles beyond the window all the way to the Superstitions and Militia HQ. With her arms crossed over her chest, she withheld a sigh. Even standing here, she could feel Samuel. How was that possible?
