She did not just feel gratitude that he had saved her and taken her away from the crazed villagers. He was not just a desirable male easily replaced by another. He already felt special to her as short as the time was that she had known him.
He was a man she could love, and she felt far more for than she should have felt for a virtual stranger.
The seeds of love had been sown. It seemed unlikely they would be nurtured by the man who had sown them even if they won the battle they were about to be drawn into and lived to see another day.
It made her chest tight with unshed tears to think it so she put it away from her. She would need purity of heart for Him to answer her. She would need to focus—without grief for things that might have been, or that she might lose. She would have to be strong and willing to sacrifice herself if necessary for the innocents whose lives had been taken.
She allowed herself to sink to the ground when he had set her on her feet, bracing her back against the stout wall of the barn behind—for she knew now for certain that was what it had been. It still smelt of the livestock that had sheltered there.
Instead of setting about making camp as he had done each night before in their travels together, Arsen untied his pack and dropped it to the ground and then walked the horse around the side of the barn. In a few moments, she heard splashing sound of water and realized there must be a trough on the other side, or perhaps a small stream she had not noticed. Her throat closed with thirst.
She debated briefly but finally struggled to her feet and followed the sounds until she found Arsen standing beside his horse, staring at the fading light from the setting sun. He was either so deeply in thought that he did not notice her or he simply chose to ignore her as she squatted beside the stream, allowed her blanket ‘cloak’ to slide to the ground and scooped handfuls of water up to assuage her thirst.
It nauseated her as everything else of sustenance in the living world did now, so she only drank a little before she straightened to return to where Arsen had left his bedroll. She discovered he had tethered the horse by tying the reins around a young sapling and walked away while she was drinking. Pausing in consternation, she searched for him with her gaze and finally hurried back around the barn. She was relieved to find him standing as he had near the stream, staring toward the abandoned cabin this time.
“They died there,” he said, almost to himself.
Amaria felt her throat close. “I am…so sorry,” she said. The words sounded hollow and a shadow of what she wished to say. She’d never experienced such a loss—she didn’t know if there were any words that could bring comfort. She doubted it.
He glanced at her, his face contorted with pain. “I cannot even recall how long since they were…since they were murdered by that creature. I feel as if…”
“They knew in life that you cared for them. They only know peace now. They have no awareness of this world any longer and would not blame you if they did. You should not blame yourself…”
“I was not here!” he said angrily. “I failed them!”
Amaria bit her lip, knowing she could not say anything that would console him. “We are only human,” she said finally. “We can only do the best we can for those we love. And sometimes all that we can do is not enough.”
For a moment, she thought that he would blast her with his temper. Instead, he seemed to dismiss her. “They have no peace. They were…torn apart by that monster. But I will give them peace today…and release them.”
He had barely gotten the words out when Amaria felt Ezantor’s presence. She looked up at the sky and saw only darkness. Her vision had grown keener with the night—not worse. Panic threaded her insides.
“He is here!” she gasped in warning. Too late, for Ezantor materialized in a blood red mist almost upon them before she had even finished speaking.
“Ah! Now I understand! Were these…little rabbits yours?” Ezantor said, a smile of satisfaction curling his bloodless lips. He was fair and white—a polar opposite to Arsen’s dark hair and swarthy, healthy skin. Something so frigid should not be so frightening, and yet looking into his black, red rimmed eyes sent her fear soaring.
Arsen let out a roar of rage and charged the vampire, slamming into him hard enough that he sent Ezantor flying backwards to land flat of his back in the brush. As swiftly as Arsen fell upon him and began to pound away with his ham sized fists, Ezantor abruptly vanished, leaving him pounding upon the ground.
The vampire reappeared several yards away and gathered his magic, sending a ball of plasma toward Arsen like cannon shot. It slammed into him as he came erect, lifting him from his feet and carrying him several yards where he hit a tree and crumpled to the ground.
“Arsen!” Amaria gasped, surging to her feet.
At almost the same moment, Arsen was up, bellowing a roar of fury as he charged Ezantor again. And Ezantor laughed.
Arsen cut it short when he slammed into the vampire like a raging bull.
“You are annoyingly persistent,” Ezantor growled, losing his superior poise. His fair hair tangled over his eyes, ruining the cool, pristine exterior he so carefully guarded. Blood flecks gathered at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
Realizing the anger in the vampire’s voice indicated that Arsen had succeeded in giving him pain, and that it had only angered Ezantor, Amaria was abruptly reminded that she was not merely a bystander to stand gaping at the horror unfolding. If she did not help Arsen, they were both done for!
Struggling to her knees, she unearthed the amulet she wore close to her heart and clasped it in both hands, praying to Him. Neither Arsen nor the vampire seemed to pay her any mind. They were far too busy slamming into one another and pounding away.
Closing her mind to the sounds of furious destruction around her, Amaria focused on the amulet and her prayers to god. Uttering the words her god had given her when He had come to her in her dream over and over, she began to feel the warmth of his presence. That strengthened her resolve--not just her body, and she began to recite the chant louder and with more conviction. And with each repeat of the chant, more heat and more strength poured through her until she realized she was glowing with it and the light was growing brighter and brighter more and more rapidly.
The Sun god was within her!
“Come to me, I pray you! Take this creature of the night and send his damned soul to dwell in hell forevermore!” she shouted to the sky, coursing with the power of the sun.
Silence cloaked the world around her for a split second and then a burst of blinding light lit up the entire clearing as if it was suddenly filled with the light of the brightest day. Ezantor screamed--a sound that froze her blood.
Blinded by the light and glory of the Sun god, Amaria could do nothing but wait, frozen, for Ezantor to fall upon her and rip her to shreds.
Instead, as the light slowly faded and her vision began to clear, she saw there was no sign of Ezantor at all.
Hardly daring to believe He had done what He promised, and that she was still alive and not consumed by the fire, she strained to see into the darkness.
Everything within the radiance of her god had been flattened and burned, she saw—horrified when she saw no sign of Arsen.
“Arsen! Beloved!”
She heard a groan. Hopeful but disbelieving, she hurriedly followed the sound. She found him sprawled on the ground, nearly falling over him. Dropping to her knees, she struggled and managed to lift his massive head to her lap. “Arsen? Are you dying, dearest?”
He uttered a choked sound that she was not entirely certain of. “Where is that bastard?”
Amaria whipped a look around but the farm was bathed in darkness once more, only the light of a sliver of moon and a sprinkling of stars to give light. “He is gone. I think.”
“To hell, I hope!” Arsen growled, struggling to sit up.
Amaria wanted to hold him, to scold him for trying to get up when he might well be grievously wounded. But she yielded to his determination to rise.
At that, Amaria searched within herself and realized he was truly gone and had not merely vanished into the night to return again. “He is gone. The Sun god sent him to hell…as he promised he would!”
Arsen stared at her for a long moment and finally walked off.
Feeling strangely let down when he dismissed her without a word and walked off, Amaria stared after him for a few moments and finally gathered herself and headed back to the barn where he had left his bedroll and supplies. She found she neither had the will nor the strength to make a pallet, however, and merely slid down the wall of the barn to sit on the ground and dozed off.
A glow against her eyelids woke her some time later—seemingly only moments—and she opened her eyes to discover to her absolute horror that the cabin was on fire.
A sound nearby drew her attention and she whipped her head around to see that Arsen was leading his horse around the barn. He drew the horse to a halt near her and took his bedroll and secured it.
“We are…leaving?” she asked.
“You are leaving,” he said gruffly. “I release you, Amaria of the sun valley. Go back to your people.” Leaning down he helped her to her feet and then lifted her to the back of the horse.
“But…I cannot take all that you have left!”
“It is my gift to you. You helped me avenge the deaths of my Isa and our children.” He studied her for a long moment. “You deserve far more, but I have nothing else to give you.”
Amaria bit her lip, struggled with her desires. “You have much to offer…if you could bring yourself to offer it.”
He looked so confused she was torn by the twin desires to clobber him and kiss him.
“Never mind, Hunter. You owe me nothing. I desired to destroy Ezantor to free myself from him and it was He who set me free and avenged your family. Offer Him your gifts. I hope that you can find the peace and happiness you deserve in life, Arsen.”
Slipping from the back of the horse, she got her bearings by searching the sky until she found a faint lightening that told her where the sun was and then stalked off purposefully. The sun crested the far horizon before she heard the pounding of horse hooves behind her. Startled, she moved to the edge of the narrow track she had been following.
Arsen came into view in a few moments. When he had drawn even with her, he pulled his horse to a halt and then merely sat looking down at her. A faint smile played about his mouth. “I was never accounted a lack wit, but I confess I have never had a proposal from a woman before so it took me a bit to figure out that that was what it was.”
Amaria glared at him resentfully. “You are conceited! I did not propose!”
He chuckled—a delightful sound she had never thought to hear that melted away much of her embarrassment and anger.
Dismounting, he gathered her close. “I owe you more than I could ever repay, but I am a selfish man. I am far more interested in offering my devotion for the joy it would give me.”
Amaria pulled away and looked up with stunned surprise and the burgeoning of joy in her heart. “Truly? Can you find a place in your heart for me?”
He tightened his arms around her and gave her a tender kiss filled with promise, and then pulled away and lifted her onto the rump of the horse. “Truly,” he said once he had mounted and enclosed her in the warmth of his arms, with the sun bathing them in its glorious rays. “Let us go home—to your people—and I will show you.”
The End
About Jaide Fox
www.jaidefoxbooks.com
Jaide Fox loves spinning tales of faraway lands filled with brooding men, willful women, and sometimes haphazard, madcap adventures.
www.jaidefoxbooks.com
Love me Hard by Tracey H. Kitts
Love me HARD by Tracey H. Kitts
Tris Grima Series
Vampire hunter Tris Grima is having difficulty finding those responsible for her mother’s murder, and making her a vampire. With the help of her guardian/sexy gargoyle Hugh, she will begin to uncover the truth.
Chapter 1
“Vampires are not like what you see in the movies. First off, they don’t sparkle in sunlight, they catch fire. But if you’re really into the sparkly look, you could use body glitter.”
“Body glitter is hot. But I dig the whole vamp look even more.”
Clearly my sarcasm was wasted on him. The only reason I was in the club was to follow up on a lead and this guy would not stop chatting me up. He liked my outfit, so he’d told me repeatedly, and kept trying to talk about vampires. It wasn’t as if I had put out any signals. Then again, just being a vampire might be a signal. I still haven’t gotten used to some aspects of this whole creature of the night thing.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
“That’s nice of you, but no thanks.”
“Come on, what can I get you?”
Fine. I was done trying to be halfway polite. This guy had been bugging me for almost an hour while I scanned the crowd.
“Blood. O positive if they serve it here.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. So, you’re like really into the goth thing, huh?”
What a moron. “No. I’m a fucking vampire.”
I flashed my fangs at him and let my eyes burn to red and just like that the fucker whipped out a cross.
“That’s what I thought,” he said.
Religious symbols aren’t always a safe bet, but a silver cross is a real bitch. If the person wielding the cross doesn’t believe in what it stands for, the vampire has nothing to worry about. But silver hurts, always.
As long as it didn’t touch my skin, I’d be fine. My arm moved so quickly it looked like a blur as I grabbed his wrist, twisted it behind his back, and shoved him into the bar.
A few people around us took a step back and the bartender yelled, “What the hell?”
“What are you playing at?” I growled. “You’re no hunter.”
We had about thirty seconds before one of the bouncers reached us.
“No, I’m not.” With those words he pushed back against me and I lost my grip. As he turned, his eyes flashed amber in the semi-darkness of the club.
“You’re a werewolf?”
His grin revealed fangs as a bouncer tapped my shoulder and said, “Is this man bothering you?”
It’s interesting how they always assume the man is the problem and the woman is the victim.
“Actually, I was bothering him,” I said. “And now I’m leaving.”
I wasn’t unnerved that he was a werewolf; what bothered me was that I hadn’t sensed it. Someone must have used a cloaking spell on him. But why? I made my way as quickly as possible through the gyrating ocean of bodies. Techno music pumped loud and hard, like the heartbeat I no longer had.
I could sense him now, and he was closing in on me. I didn’t think he’d throw down right here in the middle of the club. Still, I didn’t want to take a chance and get any of these people hurt. I wasn’t afraid of a little one on one with a wolfman, but I needed to get out of this crowd.
I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes. I was still learning to use my powers; however, I was partially psychic before becoming a vampire. Now, I was pretty damn good at manipulating minds. That is, when I could actually focus. I radiated thoughts of opening the side exit to the bouncer I saw standing there. Without his key, an alarm would sound and I didn’t want that.
All I wanted was to get outside into the alley. As I approached the bouncer he was already using his key to open the door. He held it open for me and seemed about to protest when I looked him directly in the eyes and said, “You do not see me.”
Chapter 2
Thunder rumbled like a large angry lion and a cold breeze blew through my hair as I stepped outside. The scent of rain hung so heavily in the air I was surprised a downpour hadn’t already started.
Ther
e was also something else in the air.
“Werewolves,” I said as four more stepped from the shadows.
These I could definitely smell. It’s not that they stink or anything. Werewolves have very distinct pheromones. Actually, they smell pretty damn good. It’s like the best cologne that money can’t buy. And to my heightened senses, the males were like sex on a stick.
What I couldn’t figure out was why they were after me. I’m not one of those vampires who goes around having “issues” with werewolves. That’s a bunch of speciesist crap and not at all my thing. Once upon a time, that wasn’t the case. (I admit that before I was turned I hated vampires just for being vampires. However, I never hunted anyone on that basis alone.) But a monster is a monster and I am definitely a monster. I can’t imagine hating someone else on the basis that we’re not the same type of monster. I’m more of the, “hate you for eating people,” or “hate you for killing children” type. Still, I didn’t take on jobs involving werewolves and I never had.
There were three men and one woman. The woman was tall, with long blond hair in a tight braid. She was built like the proverbial brick shithouse. She had muscles and curves like something out of a bodybuilding magazine. One look at her posture and the way she stood in front of them let me know she was the one in charge. Judging by the way they were all dressed, they’d probably been a part of the crowd inside the club.
“What do you want?” I asked, directing my question toward her.
“Fame, fortune, the usual,” she said sarcastically. “But I’ll settle for your head on a spike.”
I glanced around the alley. “Looks like we’re all out of spikes.”
Her laughter was deep and throaty. “Tris Grima,” she said, looking me up and down. “I expected a legend like you to be taller.”
“Legend? Me? I had no idea.”
Taming the Vampire: Over 25 All New Paranormal Alpha Male Tales of Contemporary, Military, Shifters, Billionaires, Werewolves, Magic, Fae, Witches, Dragons, Demons & More Page 150
