She looked back and forth between us. “I think maybe it’s time for a break.” She smirked knowingly.
Ashley turned, acknowledging Violet for the first time since she’d seen me. “Thanks for a good fight,” she said.
“It’s becoming less and less of a good fight every session,” Violet said, and returned her blade to its place on the rack.
“That’s the point, right?” Ashley asked.
“Yup,” Violet smiled as she walked past. “Have fun, you two. And if he teaches you anything interesting, show me tomorrow.”
With that, she was gone.
“It would be pretty sweet to teach her something for once,” Ashley said with a smile that soon faded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show this morning.”
“I made a promise,” I said.
“A man of your word,” she replied. “Just like Walter.” There was a sadness there, disappointment.
“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, as she tossed me a katana.
I caught the hilt without thought. It was a simple reflex. And my focus remained on Ashley. What had she hoped for me to say? Something? She’d been so happy when she’d been training with Violet. Now that we were alone, that jovial playfulness was gone. It was me. It was the way I’d left things the night before. It was the distance I’d put between us, when what I really wanted was no distance at all.
Ashley made the first move, striking high, then kicking low. I played defense, blocking each strike. At first she said nothing, but no words were required to tell me how she felt. Her eyes were ablaze, intense, blood-red.
More than when I’d watched her spar with Violet, I was impressed by her competence with the blade. Though her aggression was careless, and her press forward was filled with emotion.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked, voice soft and even.
“Like always,” I replied.
A quick slice downward caught the top of my sleeve, tearing through thin fabric. I hadn’t expected that.
“And you?” I asked.
Ashley pushed forward, swiping high, then low.
“Like a kitten,” she said.
I whipped my blade around hers, grabbed her wrist, and twisted. The katana clattered to the floor. She shoved both hands out. The wind hit me like a hurricane, blowing back the shirt on my chest, the pants on my legs. The door slammed shut, loud from the force. I dropped my katana and knocked her elbows with my forearm. Ashley ran at me, knocking me into the wall. She was fire, she was life, and more than anything I wanted a taste. I flipped her over, pinned her beneath me against the wooden door.
Her irises swirled red, her lips softly parted revealing the tips of her fangs, and the gentle scent of honey mingled with the natural scent that was her. Intoxicating. She was soft, yet strong, and I had never wanted anything more. My lips crushed hers, and I showed her the desperation I felt. I claimed her with everything that I was in one deep, sensual kiss.
Chapter Sixteen
Tyr
Her soft breasts swelled against my chest, the rounded tops pushed up from her black shirt. My cock pressed hard against her hip, desperate to sink deep between her legs.
Her eyes glowed red with heat, her cheeks blushed in a pleasant pink. A mess of golden blond hair fanned out around her face like a halo.
Her wrists were still beneath my palm, all of her aggression abandoned as I held her still. I could smell her desire, just as sweet as the perfumes in her hair.
Part of me knew I should hold back, that this was the point of no return. If I tasted her, I would never be satiated. If I buried myself inside of her, I could never walk away.
She shoved her lips against mine, traced my fang with her tongue. A hint of warm copper filled my mouth. Just a drop—of her.
Her sweet scent overwhelmed my nostrils, as her taste cleared the last cloud of hesitation. I tore her pants down with my free hand, holding her hands above her head.
She stood before me in her form-fitting tank and black panties, and I took in every gorgeous curve.
She lifted her legs around my waist, holding my cock hard between our hips. I reached around her thigh, and stroked the thin strip of silk that covered her. The fabric was damp beneath my fingertips, and I wanted to lap up every drop.
She moaned and threw her head back against the door, and arched her spine. The fair skin of her neck was exposed, an invitation I gladly accepted.
“Tyr,” she cried as I sank my teeth into her tender flesh. She was warmth, sweetness, on my tongue. I pushed her panties aside. Her pussy was drenched as I slid in two fingertips. She rocked her hips upward, grinding her clit against my palm.
I took her mouth with mine, and shoved my tongue deep between her lips, my fingers deeper inside her slick heat. She moved into my mouth as her tunnel pulsed around my fingers.
She pulled her wrists from my grasp, surprising me with renewed fervor. She clicked the lock on the door, and dropped her legs. With a flick of her wrist, she forced the air around me to move back. It was like wind in a fierce tropical storm, difficult to fight.
“I forget that doesn’t work with you,” she said, with a grin.
She looked sexier than ever, and on the prowl.
She shoved my shoulders with her hands. I allowed the momentum to push me, and took a step back.
“Have I displeased you, my queen?” I mirrored the smile she gave me. My cock pressed hard against my fly, throbbing with need. With every fiber of my being I wanted more, I wanted this, I wanted her.
“Quite the opposite.”
She tore open my pants, decimating the buttons and fly. Her small, soft fingers wrapped around the base of my cock. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling.
“Your queen wants this,” she said. “King takes queen.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. I held her up against the wall, tore her panties in half, and buried my cock in deep. She squeezed the back of my shirt in her fist, and bit my lip as I gave her every inch. Her tight, wet pussy squeezed me as I gave in and let go. I thrusted until she cried out with pleasure, pushing me over the edge. I came with Ashley, feeling more alive than I had since I’d returned. I wasn’t lost. I was home. Here, with her.
As we came down from our high, I realized my pants were torn beyond repair. She had fared better, losing only her panties, leaving her pants intact.
“Rule with me,” she said.
It was what I craved and what I feared—power. As if she could read my thoughts, she touched my wrist and looked deep into my eyes, straight to my soul—if our kind was capable of having a soul.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” she said. Her eyes were the green of rolling fields of summer grass in Scotland. Her hair was golden sunshine. And her smile—that was a warmth that I’d missed.
“At one time, I would have said yes without hesitation,” I said.
“What changed?” she asked.
“Time,” I said. “Me. There’s a turmoil inside, between the monster and the man.”
“And you think that being close to me, and being in charge somehow hurts your chances of staying the man you want to be?”
Her face was soft, understanding. I hadn’t expected her to understand me, not like this.
“Yes,” I said.
“And that’s why you don’t like to drink blood,” she said. “It feeds the vampire side.”
“Yes.”
“So why don’t we keep each other in check,” she said. “You teach me, and I’ll help keep you from turning into what you fear.”
She was serious, and capable.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Me too.”
Ashley took a seat on the mat, and patted for me to come down beside her. I did.
“So tell me who you were, what made you change into who you are, and who you want to be,” she said.
It was a reasonable request, yet difficult to know where to start. I told her of Odin, of my brothers, and their death
s. And I told her how I met Lyra.
March 21, 1118
Outskirts of Racaia, The Roman Empire
Not a day had passed since my brothers’ slaughter that I wasn’t completely consumed by rage. At daybreak I was haunted by nightmares, reliving their gruesome deaths over and over again. Their anguished faces were etched into my mind in a horror that never relented. At nightfall I hunted.
It had taken a month of searching, but I’d finally found the wolves responsible.
At the edge of Racaia was a quaint village. At its center was a modest but long hall, home to the territory’s only wolf pack. Reclusive enough not to draw attention, the shifters rarely left their village. Except for the morning they had ambushed The Frith.
Why they had come didn’t matter. All that mattered was what they had done. And they would pay. Every last wolf would die this night.
The yard was dark, the moon hidden behind a blanket of clouds. I strode up to the front door without encountering a single guard. I could hear their hearts beat, a flurry of life nestled within the stone walls.
The first was a woman, then a man, then countless others. I bathed in their blood, in a frenzy of destruction. Blade, fists, fangs, I tore through them all. The first met their end in their sleep, never to wake again. Room after room was filled with bunk beds of warm bodies, who would never see another sun. I bestowed upon them the fate they’d resigned my brothers to. I drained. I killed. Then I heard his voice.
“Aeliana!’” The sound that followed was a wail of despair. I knew that cry well, and it fed my righteous vengeance. And the voice, I knew it, too. I heard it in every nightmare, every time I relived that morning.
The giant of a man kneeled over a corpse. His massive shoulders hung low as he held her body to his chest. “Aeliana,” he cried.
“Let their blood stain these walls,” I said, repeating his own words. “Their cries land only on deaf ears.”
Only then did the wolf look up at me. His face was as hideous as the gargoyles of The Frith, distorted in hatred, grief, and malice.
“Demon,” he spat.
And I laughed.
“You reap what you sow,” I said. “As you have murdered my kin, I yours.”
“Our attack was in defense of—”
My blade sank deep with a single strike. His eyes went wide before the inevitable fall. I expected to feel something—vindication, relief, something. But I was numb.
Smoke clouded the ceiling as the rooms grew warm. I walked back toward the door. Fire flicked across linens, across carpet and curtains. I didn’t see the torch that had started it, but I didn’t care. I continued toward the door until I heard it.
A gentle cough, a fluttering heart. I followed the sound to a room I had missed. Looking up at me was a pair of big brown eyes. A child. She didn’t scream, didn’t run, just clutched a cloth doll in her tiny fist.
The fire roared, overtaking the building in smoke and flames. I took the girl into my arms and she squeezed my neck. As I carried her from the building, I felt something. And it wasn’t rage.
Chapter Seventeen
Ashley
“That little girl, that was Lyra?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
I laced my fingers in his and let it all sink in. It must have been horrible, all of it. And living with that regret so many years later—he carried a burden much heavier than I’d imagined.
“I’m sorry for all that happened to you,” I said. “But I’m glad you found her.”
“Thank you,” he said. “If I could go back and change what happened, I would. Not a day passes where I don’t regret the man that I was.”
“There’s nothing you can do to change the past,” I said. “But you were there for Lyra, right? You did what you could, and you changed yourself.”
“I did.”
I inched closer and leaned my head on his arm. This was all so much. I’d thought maybe I was wrong about him, that maybe Tyr didn’t like me. And then this, and him opening up. I cherished our newfound closeness, and I wanted to stay just like this, him and me as long as we could.
The door knob jiggled.
“Hey guys, I heard there was some crazy fighting going on in here.” Of course, it was Charlie. “Can I watch?”
I looked around the room, from the weapons that were knocked off the rack to Tyr’s shredded pants. It definitely looked like something intense had happened in here.
A small smile slid across Tyr’s face.
I rose to my feet, and unlocked and opened the door, though I’d have rather ignored Charlie and everything else on the other side of that door for just a little more time alone with Tyr.
“You look like shit,” Charlie said with a stupid grin.
“Thanks,” I said. “You should see the other guy.”
Tyr stood beside me, as strong and confident as always, even as he held together his shredded pants. Charlie looked him over as he had me, like we’d just brawled our brains out. Which was kinda true.
“So I missed the whole thing?” Charlie asked. “I bet it was awesome, throwing each other through the air with telekineptics. Ninja flips and bullets and swords…”
“Telekinesis,” Tyr said.
“So it’s true?” Charlie’s eyes lit up.
“I’m just going to go—” I said.
“No, wait,” Charlie cut in. “I need to talk to you.”
“Fine,” I said. “But you’ll have to do it while we’re walking. I need a hair band or something.”
“Maybe a brush,” Charlie offered.
I looked back at Tyr, who I was sure would be glad to have a few minutes alone to get some new pants. His eyes were soft and gentle, the soft green that always looked just a little sad. This time it was less so. This time there was no distance. The barriers were down, and we knew each other, or at least we were working on it.
Charlie said, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I said, “okay.”
I turned to go, wishing for another few minutes alone with Tyr, for another story, for a chance to say how much our time together had meant to me. But, as usual, duty called.
“Now that I’ve got the chance,” Charlie said as we started up the staircase, “I need your help.”
With his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and his chest bare, Orlando walked in the other direction looking kind of sad.
“Hey, Orlando,” I said, as we walked by the shirtless guard. I turned to Charlie. “Did you know he was back? Did he pass the tests or whatever Bennet is doing to them?”
“Yeah, I was supposed to tell you that,” Charlie said. “There’s blood, too. Only one batch, but—”
I grabbed his arm and stopped where I stood. “Seriously, Charlie?” I asked. “The first words out of your mouth weren’t hey, Ashley, you can actually have breakfast today?”
“What?” he asked, shaking his head like I wasn’t making any sense. “No, obviously. This is more important than—”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
I turned around and headed back the way we’d come, toward Orlando, wherever he went. Charlie followed.
“Of course it is,” he insisted, frowning as he kept pace. “It’s about Walter.”
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Does he need to speak with me?” I asked.
“Well, if you’re offering, that’d be great,” Charlie said. “He’s super pissed. It’s Angel. Walter won’t even give her a chance. He hasn’t spoken a single word to me, let alone her. I thought he’d do something scary, you know? Throw furniture, or punches, or something. But the silence is so much worse…”
Even though he totally deserved the silent treatment, siring some chick in secret, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Charlie was a nice guy, even if his judgement was terrible.
“She’s your amor aeternus, right?” I asked.
“She is,” he said. “She really is.”
There was certainty in
the set of his jaw, and the furrow of his brow. He was sure.
“Then Walter will come around,” I said. “It’s this whole eternity thing. He’ll come around some time. When he’s ready.”
“Thanks, Ashley,” he said. “Do you really think it will take an eternity?”
There was no good answer for that one. This was Walter we were talking about.
I patted Charlie’s shoulder, and chased down Orlando before I lost sight of him again.
“Orlando,” I called, “hey.”
“Just getting you a serving of—”
I snagged the pouch from his hands, and tore my teeth through the plastic.
“Okay, then,” Orlando said.
It was warm, just the way I liked it, and delicious, just like the day. Energy flowed through me, renewed my strength, and brightened everything. The red of Charlie’s shirt seemed more vibrant, as did the sky-blue of Orlando’s eyes.
“Thank you,” I said. “So much.”
“You’re welcome, your majesty.”
“Can I ask you something, Orlando?” I asked.
“Anything.”
“Do you like doing the whole shirtless thing?” I asked.
“I don’t mind—”
“Because if you like shirts, or ties, or jeans, and flannel, or whatever,” I said. “Wear it.”
“Thank you, your majesty.”
I patted his shoulder and headed back up the stairs to my room, leaving Charlie and Orlando behind. Everything was going to be fine. It was better than fine. I’d brush my hair, slap on some lipstick, and figure things out. Me and Tyr—together.
Chapter Eighteen
Tyr
If I didn’t launder my garments soon, I’d be stuck wearing something from another era. While I hadn’t minded pantaloons, wigs, and ruffled shirts when they had been in fashion, I preferred not to relive fads decades or centuries later.
I gathered my dirty clothes, neatly folded beside a tall stack of boxes, and piled them inside an empty box.
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