Dark Warrior Unleashed

by Alexis Morgan

  She tried to separate her legs to coax him inside her, but he was having none of it as he nuzzled and licked her nipple before recapturing the sensitive tip with his lips. At the same time, he let go of her hands.

  Her fingers immediately dug into his shoulders, holding on to the solid comfort of his strength as he made her world spin out of control. When he moved farther down her body, she held her breath, waiting and wanting.

  Ranulf breathed deeply, loving the fact that this woman was so aroused by his touch. She was a generous lover, giving as well as taking as the two of them learned by touch and taste and sound how to please each other. Right now, he was going to send her rocketing over the edge. He looked up the curved planes of her body to see the anticipation in her smile.

  The lady knew what she wanted, and he was eager to indulge them both. With firm pressure, he spread her legs wide apart, lifting them over his shoulders. “Hold on, honey. This is going to be a fast ride.”

  At the first touch of his lips and tongue, she arched back, her head rolling from side to side. He was a warrior, trained from birth to never lose sight of the target. Using that same intense focus, he learned what Kerry merely liked and what drove her crazy, and he used that knowledge mercilessly.

  As soon as she started to shatter, he surged forward, claiming her mouth to absorb her keening release. When the tension drained away from her body, he briefly left her to fetch a condom from the bathroom.

  Kerry was waiting for him with open arms. His feet stuttered to a stop at the sight. Her smile was a siren’s call, drawing him back. Although his body had cooled in the few steps to the bathroom and back, hot blood came rushing in as he returned to the bed, covering Kerry with the full weight of his body.

  Aware of the differences in their size, he promised, “I’ll go slow.”

  Her smile brightened as she wrapped her legs around his. “Not too slowly.”

  The flow of energy between them burned hot as he eased into her tight passage, pausing every little bit to kiss her sweet lips and to give her body a chance to adjust. Damn, she fit him like a glove, the warm slide of her inner muscles caressing each inch of him. With one last push, he completed the union of their bodies.

  “Ranulf!” Kerry’s hips thrust up, seating him even deeper.

  The urge to ride her hard burned up the last bit of his hard-fought control. Withdrawing almost to the tip, he rocked forward again and again, each time faster and harder. The world narrowed down to the confines of the bed and this woman. In all his life, there was no moment more perfect than this one.

  He drove them on and on, claiming her with his body and his energy. His instincts burned hot and primitive, a celebration of life in an existence that had been too full of death for centuries.

  “Come for me, Kerry!” His breath came in shallow pants as he strained toward completion for them both. “Let go and fly. I’ll catch you.”

  “Yes! Yes!” she chanted as her nails dug into his ass to drive him even deeper. When her body seized his in a pulsing grip, he poured out his climax in a hot, pulsing surge as she careened right over the edge with him. Together they soared with the gods, then slowly settled back to earth, mortal again.

  For an eternity, the only sound in the room was ragged breathing and racing heartbeats. The world had been remade in bolder, brighter colors, and the energy still pulsing between them was honey sweet and sizzling hot.

  When Ranulf could string words together, he rested his forehead on hers. “Are you all right?”

  She ran her hands up his back to his shoulders before pushing his hair back out of his face. “If I was any better, I’d explode.”

  “I’m pretty sure you already did.”

  Kerry laughed and kissed him. “I think we both did.”

  Reluctantly, he withdrew from her body. “I’ll be right back.”

  On his way to the bathroom, he retrieved her nightgown and tossed it to her. “You might want this. It’s getting close to dawn, and Sandor might decide to check on you again.”

  “He’d better knock first.”

  When Ranulf returned to the room a minute later, he noticed that Kerry had followed his advice. His first thought was how much he would enjoy taking the gown right back off her again, but then he realized they weren’t alone.

  Sandor was in the doorway, staring at the thoroughly trashed bed and looking thunderous.

  “Go away, Sandor. I’ve already said you can’t come in.”

  Kerry tried to close the door, reminding Ranulf of his first meeting with her. She didn’t have any better luck keeping Sandor out. The Talion pushed his way in, careful not to hurt her, and headed straight for Ranulf.

  “You son of a bitch! You just couldn’t keep your filthy hands to yourself!” As soon as he was in range, he started swinging his fists.

  Ranulf blocked two punches before Sandor got lucky and managed to connect with Ranulf’s jaw. From the way Sandor winced and started cursing, the blow had done more damage to his hand than it had to Ranulf’s face. That didn’t mean he was going to let the idiot use him for a punching bag. When Ranulf let fly with a punch of his own, he didn’t hold anything back. It was bad enough the bastard was always insulting him, but he’d just spoiled the most perfect moment Ranulf had experienced in centuries.

  Kerry was railing at both of them as they took the fight to the floor, finally giving vent to all their pent-up hostility toward each other. She had the good sense to stay back, but she clearly didn’t appreciate a brawl breaking out in her room. Suddenly the two men froze in place, unable to move.

  Damnation, that meant Judith had joined the festivities. They’d be lucky if she didn’t plaster them both on the ceiling for pulling such a stupid stunt. Her control was shaky, though, because he was gradually able to push himself off of Sandor.

  He looked around for the Dame, but she was nowhere in sight. Which meant…His gaze snapped back to Kerry, who was glaring at him and Sandor equally, her hands outstretched. Sparks of energy flashed in her dark eyes as she held two of Judith’s strongest warriors pinned to the floor. Son of a bitch. She wasn’t just a Kyth but the rarest of their kind: a healer with the talents to become a Dame like Judith.

  Chapter 11

  Before he could say anything, Judith entered the room, assessing the situation in one glance.

  “Kerry, my dear, I’ll take over now.” She stepped between Kerry and the two men, breaking the energy connection. Kerry collapsed in a nearby chair, looking a little green.

  Ranulf finished pushing himself up from the floor, trying to make sense of what he’d just seen. Without thinking, he offered Sandor a hand up. The two of them stared first at Kerry and then at Judith. Slowly, Ranulf began adding up a few things that had bothered him about Judith’s behavior since she’d found out about Kerry’s existence. The answer he got did not make him happy.

  He turned his temper on Judith. “She’s like you, isn’t she?”

  Judith gave him a distracted nod as she stood next to Kerry, stroking her shoulder. He knew from personal experience that Judith was both soothing and energizing Kerry, helping the younger woman stabilize.

  He took a step closer. “How long have you known?”

  “I suspected from your first report and from the condition of the people she saved. It was obvious she’s a healer and a strong one. I had to think she and I might have other qualities in common.”

  He had other questions, but rather than risk saying something that might hurt Kerry, he stalked over to the bathroom door and slammed it behind him.

  A hot shower would clear out the cobwebs and wash Kerry’s scent off his skin. He cranked the dial all the way, figuring being boiled alive would be better than letting himself get tangled up with another Dame for the next millennium. He couldn’t face another year of killing for the good of their people, much less a thousand of them.

  Sandor wasn’t the only one who worried about the long-term effects of absorbing the twisted, dark energy of bastards like Bradan. Ran
ulf had only been down off the mountain for a few days, and except for the time spent with Kerry, his skin hurt with the need to break free of the confines of civilization.

  As the water pelted his body, he closed his eyes and leaned against the cool tile wall. Was Kerry all right? He shouldn’t have left her alone, even though Sandor and Judith would see that she was taken care of. But he couldn’t face her—not now that he understood why he felt this powerful attraction to her.

  He was the strongest of the Talions and had special talents that most of the others lacked. The only Kyth who was stronger than he was in some ways was Dame Judith herself. It was one reason he’d willingly served her for so long.

  And now Judith had finally found someone with the right gifts to serve their people as the new Dame when she herself stepped down. He now knew why she’d been so adamant about sending both Sandor and Ranulf to protect Kerry.

  If Kerry assumed the throne of their people, she’d need a Consort. Who would be more perfect than Sandor, the diplomat among the Talion? And who would get to spend a hundred lifetimes watching the two of them whenever they dragged him down off the mountain to kill? No way in hell he was going to let that happen.

  Even if he was willing to serve the new Dame, he sure as hell wasn’t going to dance to any tune Sandor played. Nor was he about to watch that smarmy son of a bitch following Kerry around, sharing her life and her bed. Especially now that he knew that their shared passion was as close to Valhalla as he’d likely ever know.

  He shut the water off. The sooner he dressed and ate, the sooner he could hit the streets and track down Bradan. The hours spent in Kerry’s bed had been the best in his life, but he had a job to do. Reaching for a towel, he made his plans.

  * * *

  Sandor hated—HATED—being shooed out of Kerry’s room like a child, even though he knew Kerry had questions that only Judith could answer. But as long as Ranulf was lurking in the next room, he would stay close, too.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the Viking had used Kerry’s nightmare to worm his way into her bed. And judging by the tangled blankets and sheets, he’d done a helluva lot more than just wake her up from the dark dream that had ensnared her.

  Damn it, they had been ordered to protect Kerry, not seduce her! Sandor stared at his image in the mirror and frowned. Was he jealous that Ranulf and Kerry had spent the night in each other’s arms? Maybe a little. He suspected making love to a woman with such strength and power would be like getting hit with a bolt of lightning.

  Brutal honesty forced him to admit that she had never looked at him with the slightest hint of interest. Normally he would’ve taken her rejection with good humor; he didn’t expect every woman he met to fall at his feet.

  But what did she see in Ranulf? Was it that big a thrill to take a barbarian to bed? Or was Kerry drawn to the darkness in Ranulf? The idea sent fear for their race coursing through his veins. Judith wasn’t the only one who had suspected that Kerry was most likely a healer after reading the reports about her reaction to the dance club fire.

  But if Kerry’s affinity was for the dark end of the energy spectrum, what would that mean to the Kyth as a whole? Had they found her too late, when she’d already been tainted?

  Clearly Ranulf couldn’t be trusted now. So if Dame Judith decided that Kerry was beyond redemption, he himself would likely get the execution order—a first for him. Although he’d brought other Kyth to face justice, he’d never been given an execution order to carry out. Judith had always said it had been because his talent as a diplomat had kept him busy enough. He’d always wondered if perhaps she’d doubted his ability to kill.

  It would be hard enough to take out a fellow Talion, but to execute a woman, especially this woman? A part of his soul would die. He stared again at his reflection in the mirror. The Kyth culture sprang from a warrior culture where a man’s worth was tied to his ability to wield weapons in the defense of their people. Underneath the veneer of civilized behavior, they still held on to those values.

  As much as Sandor despised the choices Ranulf had made in his life, the man deserved respect as a proven warrior.

  A sharp rap on the door disturbed the silence in his room. Banishing his dark thoughts, he opened the door. The Viking filled the doorway.

  “What do you want?”

  “We’ve got work to do.”

  Ranulf had showered and shaved, but the deep indigo blue of his eyes warned that his mood was still volatile. Diplomat that he was, Sandor knew how to talk his way around moody Kyths.

  “There’s no ‘we.’ I’ve been doing my job. You’re the one who’s been screwing…around.”

  Who knew indigo could go black so quickly? Ranulf’s hand snaked out to grab a fistful of Sandor’s shirt for the second time in as many days, yanking him up close.

  “Never insult her, Sandor. Watch your mouth or I’ll close it permanently.” Ranulf’s words rang with cold death.

  If they really went at it, there would be no rules, no quarter given. And right now, the only two people with the strength to stop them were too busy to do so. Sandor braced himself to do battle, but Ranulf abruptly released him and stayed in the hall, giving Sandor enough space to calm down.

  “I know you want a piece of me, but now isn’t the time. Bradan’s out there stocking up on death energy. We need to take him out while we still can.”

  The arrogant bastard was right. Even if they hated each other’s guts, it was imperative that they find some way to work together. Once Bradan was permanently out of the picture, there would be a reckoning.

  The Viking nodded, as if he’d read Sandor’s thoughts. Hell, maybe he had. There was no telling what secret talents he had honed over the years.

  “Where do you want to start?” Sandor asked calmly.

  The crisis over, Ranulf’s eyes faded to a lighter blue. “With breakfast.”

  Sandor acknowledged the peace offering with a quick nod. “Tell Josiah that I’ll be there in a minute. I need to change my shirt.”

  Ranulf glanced at the button hanging by a thread. “Put it on my tab.” Then he was gone.

  * * *

  Drying his hands, Bradan studied his studio. An artist had to have a place to practice his craft, and this was his. The smell of bleach would fade as the cement floor dried, but otherwise the room met with his approval.

  The boy had put up quite a fight. His efforts had been futile, of course, but quite remarkable for all that. His death had topped off Bradan’s tank, so to speak, leaving him buzzed and ready for more.

  It was time to go after his real targets: Dame Judith, the Viking, Sandor, and the delicious Kerry Logan. The order didn’t matter, although he leaned toward keeping Kerry for the last. Maybe if she saw how the others died, she’d be more willing to cooperate. Fat lot of good it would do her. In the end, he would bed her, either breaking her or killing her in the process.

  The stage was set. His instruments were all lined up neatly on the counter. The chains were reinforced, designed to stand up to the strongest of guests. He could see Ranulf straining against them, blood dripping from his wrists and ankles. The Dame probably thought Ranulf would prove to be Bradan’s most worthy opponent, but she would be wrong.

  All Bradan had to do was take either Kerry or Judith prisoner, and stupid, noble Ranulf would offer himself up in exchange for the woman’s life. Not that he’d trust Bradan to honor the agreement, but neither would he stand by and let a woman die without trying every possible way to save her.

  Bradan would keep him alive long enough to watch Judith breathe her last. The Viking had served her for God knew how long; it was only right that they die together.

  He left the house, locking the door and setting the alarm. He’d chosen the wooded lot for its remote location. When a man had unusual tastes in entertainment, it didn’t do to live too close to neighbors.

  He should reach Seattle by midafternoon. It was time to give Sandor another few hits to track down: a charge here, an ATM
withdrawal there, all geared to keep the Talions spinning their wheels like hamsters in a cage, running like crazy and getting nowhere.

  Climbing in his rental car, he started the engine and drove down to the highway, careful to observe the speed limit. A state trooper had a nasty habit of setting up a speed trap along the ramp that led back down to Interstate 90. Only a fool would risk years of planning for the fleeting pleasure of exceeding the speed limit.

  Delayed gratification was always the sweetest.

  * * *

  “For the last time, NO!”

  Kerry paced back and forth, wishing she’d been anywhere else except trapped in this room with an unnerving old lady watching her every move. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear any more about my so-called heritage. I don’t want to explore these newfound secret superpowers, and I don’t want a lecture on accepting the burden of my gifts. What I do want to do is shower, grab breakfast at a fast-food drive-up window, and get back to my life. My real life.”

  She turned to face Dame Judith, who had listened to Kerry’s tirade for the past half hour with the patience of a saint—and the stubbornness of a bulldog. Once the two men had retreated, Judith had done her best to reassure Kerry that it was perfectly normal to control two pissed-off males with the flick of a wrist. Oh, yeah, that made all the sense in the world.

  It made just as much sense to Kerry as finding out that she and Dame Judith must have had a common ancestor—or maybe that Dame Judith was the ancestor. If she accepted the fact that Ranulf really was a thousand years old, could Dame Judith be any younger? It was a sign of how far gone Kerry was that she actually believed what they’d been telling her.

  Praise be, the shower in the next room finally stopped running. How could she concentrate when her mind insisted on picturing Ranulf standing naked under that hot spray? His body was that of a warrior, and she’d reveled in being the sole focus of all that power and strength. Just thinking about it had her feeling restless and achy. A shadow of the sweet heat she’d experienced making love with him washed over her, leaving her staring at the bathroom door. If the Dame hadn’t taken up residence in her room, Kerry would have joined him.