by Susan Harris
Ever had thought the most surreal moment of her life was driving to a police station with an oversized wolf in the passenger seat. But no, travelling in the back of a police transporter with a drugged-up wolf in a cage definitely surpassed that. The wolf was making sleep yipping noises and jerking its legs around a bit. Ever had to get reassurance from Ricky that the tranquilizer dart hadn’t done any long-lasting damage to poor Derek.
“Ever, I promise that D will be fine when he wakes up. Sure, he’ll have a wicked headache, but considering the pain he was in a couple of hours ago, that will be a piece of cake.”
Ever took him at his word, but she was loathe to leave the sleeping wolf’s side. They could do nothing now but wait. Tom reluctantly phoned ahead and had a room prepared down in the basement of the station for her and Derek.
“You sure you want to stay down here with him, Ever? He’ll be out for a while,” Tom asked her when they backed the transporter into the station. The back doors opened, and it took six officers to shove the cage out of the van and carry it around to the back of the station.
“I’m sure, Tom. I just want to make sure that if he’s restless when he wakes, he can have a familiar face there to keep him calm.”
“Ricky can do that.”
Ricky snorted, hopping out of the van behind them. “Yeah, Sarge, but I’m not a gorgeous blonde with a megawatt smile. Besides, I wanna go check on Lanie.”
Tom put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Leave it be, son. Caitlyn will call when she has news. She’ll take good care of her. Why don’t you go get some sleep.”
It was an order, not a question, and Ricky trudged off with false mumblings that sure he would go get some rest… as if anyone would believe that. Until that man could see Melanie alive and well, so to speak, Ever would bet her life that there would be no rest for him.
Ever followed the officers as they struggled to hold on to the cage containing Derek as they descended a stone staircase. It was well lit for what was more or less a dungeon, with tiny spotlights leading the way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, Ever was amazed to see a fully functional kitchen, along with four rooms that sprouted off into four different directions. Boots clattered down the stairs behind her as Tom strode down and pointed to a room on the far left. He yanked open the door for the officers, who had by now lowered the cage to the ground, and heaved it inside the room.
As the officers left, Tom stayed with Ever. She walked into the room and glanced around. Four plain, grey stone walls greeted her, windowless, with a soft light overhead the only thing that prevented her from being thrust into complete darkness. Apart from the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room was the cage, if you could even consider that furniture.
Ever eased herself down on the bed, her bones suddenly so tired that they ached. A yawn escaped her, and she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. She heard the soft, familiar tone of Tom’s chuckle, and she glanced up at him.
“Don’t fight it, Ever. Get some sleep. We’ll need to rest up now and regroup in the morning. There’s food stocked in the kitchen as well as coffee. If he wakes early and is agitated—the wolf, I mean—there is a phone in the kitchen. Call me, and I’ll send Ricky with another dart.”
Ever shook her head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Tom. Can you ring my parents and let them know I’m okay? I haven’t checked in for a couple of days, and you know how they worry.”
Tom came over to her and ruffled her hair, just like he used to do when she was a little girl. “I already planned to, Miss. I do not wish to incur the wrath of Samhain by not keeping her up to date with what her precious daughter is up to.” He grinned before motioning his head toward Derek. “Should I leave out the bit about you and my second?”
With a grin, Ever replied, “Please. I don’t know what the hell is between us, and it’s best to keep them in the dark until we know what the story is.”
“Roger that. But Ever, be careful with him. He’s not as tough as he looks.” Words of wisdom given, Tom turned and strode out the door, only stopping when Ever said his name.
“I never thanked you, you know.”
Tom raised an eyebrow, and she continued.
“For finding me and making sure I was settled with good parents. I’ll always be eternally grateful that you were the one who found me and gave me a perfect, loving home.”
“There was no couple more deserving of you than them, Ever, and I still hold strong on my promise to help you look for whoever had to give you up if you ever want to.”
Tom left with a promise to fetch her and Derek in the morning, halting only to give a code to the lock on Derek’s cage. The sound of his steps echoed through the empty bunker until the door closed and she was alone with the wolf. Too tired to even take off her shoes, Ever slipped under the blankets and rested her head on the soft pillow. It smelled of Derek, wild and strong, and with one final check on the dozing, golden-brown wolf, Ever allowed her mind to clear and her eyes to flutter closed as she embraced sleep.
The sound of clashing metal was a welcome and comforting sound as she strolled along the shores of the beach, the vast beauty of her island home stretched out for miles in front of her. Sand wedged between her toes as her sandals slipped under the silky-smooth grains, but she didn’t mind. The sun glistened against the crystal-clear, blue ocean that lapped against the shore and sprinkled droplets of salty water against her skin. Serenity washed over her, the complete and utter calm that came to her when she returned to the shores of her home. It was a transformation she could not explain.
“Systir!”
A cry came from amongst the trees, and she turned to see the youngest of her sworn kin race from the forest, her arms wide and her gleeful face a welcome sight. She dropped to her knees as the young girl flung her tiny arms around her neck and held her in a tight embrace. Rarely did she show outward emotions for her kin, but this little girl could draw a smile from the most hardened of warriors.
“Ever, I am so glad you have returned.”
“As am I, sweet Marya, as am I. I have missed your smiling face.”
The little girl untangled her arms from her neck, and Ever drank in the sight of her. Eyes of the darkest blue, skin as pale as tropical sand, Marya had a mass of dirty blonde hair that caressed her bottom. Strands of wild hair usually tended to escape from the bands that tried to bind it off her face. Today, the hair snaked down her back in a plait laced with wildflowers.
“Have you been practicing while I have been away?” she asked the little girl.
Marya shoved her shoulders back and proudly said, “I have, of course! Mother says I am almost as good with a long blade as when you were a babe.”
Ever laughed, and the little girl beamed. A horn sounded before a medley of voices rang through the air. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she slipped her hand into Marya’s while they walked across the sandy shore and around the corner to where the raised voices had come from.
Marya slipped free of her grasp and ran ahead, eager to join in the fray. On sight of her, the shouts and fighting halted. Everybody that spanned the beach dropped to a knee, and the warriors on the ground bowed their heads with a fisted hand placed over their chests—a show of respect, a show of loyalty, of fealty.
“Rise, warriors!” she called out before continuing on her path toward the dais where her other sisters stood. The all greeted her with a nod of the head and a fist to the heart, and she returned the gesture.
“How is the training coming along?”
“Very well, Systir. Mayhap you would like to see for yourself? You still must choose your champion.”
Ever nodded, still hesitant to choose a warrior to tie herself to for eternity. Once chosen, the bond could not be broken by either. Only the final death would sever the bond and send them into oblivion, never to be reborn again. Final death wasn’t the easiest to achieve for her kind.
Her sister placed her fingers between her teeth and blew, a shrill whistle calling the collecti
on of warriors to stand to attention. Her warrior sister barked instructions, the warriors faced each other, one on one, and the slow dance began. The clash of swords and the cries of defeat set fire to her blood. She was eager to partake herself; it had been far too long since she had twirled her blade and felt the rush as metal grazed flesh.
She watched as their acquired warriors ducked, dived, wielded, and persevered, continuing on with their fists even when the coppery scent of blood marred the air. Her sisters had done a very good job of training and making the once-forgotten souls into fierce warriors in their army.
“Have we had any losses since I left?”
The hulking Danae was the one who answered her—her sister bigger than half of the warriors fighting below and twice as deadly. She folded her arms across her chest, the muscles bunching, veins almost popping free of her near-mahogany skin. “We have lost ten in total out of five hundred. But the losses that we suffered we justified; ego made them sloppy, and they challenged others. Foolish imps deserved the blade they were run through with.”
Ever felt a smile tug at her lips. “And pray tell, Danae, was it your blade that sent them into the next life or another’s?”
The warrior huffed. “I ran my blade through five, but the others… it was the right of the one they challenged, and he requested to be the one who ended their lives.”
“I would very much like to see this warrior who thinks he has the right to make such a request from those above his station.”
Turning her attention back to the demonstration, her eyes scanned the crowd in search of a warrior who might be suitable to be her champion. She had argued with Mother on numerous occasions that she did not need a champion, that the custom was outdated and she was not a typical princess to be babysat and coddled. Her mother, in return, argued that custom was important and that a champion was more than a babysitter—he was to be the second half of her soul, her confidant, and her lover… everything a queen needed to rule her subjects.
And in return for eternal servitude? Her champion would be bestowed with powers beyond his imagination. Strength, speed, vitality, and he would be the consort to the queen; he would stand beside her and command the army in her absence. They would birth the next generation of royalty, their daughters to rule, and their sons to fight. It would be the greatest achievement of his life, and supposedly, Ever would know her champion when she saw him.
The glint of metal caught her eye, and she tilted her head, narrowing her gaze so that she could focus on the pull she suddenly felt. Before her eyes stood the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen in her life. Barefooted with a naked torso, the fluid movement of his body mesmerized her as he took down his opponent with ease. Sweat gleaned from his golden skin, highlighting his toned physique, his well-defined muscles so deliciously lickable. Trimmed bronze hair completed the planes of his chiseled features, strong jaw, and high cheekbones.
As if feeling the heat of her gaze on him, the warrior lifted his head. Eyes of the deepest hazel—almost chocolate—held her own blue ones. Those eyes raked over her body, and when he brought them back up to hold her gaze once more, lust flared in his eyes and her knees felt weak.
“I see the warrior who thinks he is our equal has drawn your attention. He would make a fine champion and life mate for you.”
Erika’s voice pulled her from watching the warrior watch her. Her cheeks flushed as she pictured herself tracing the outline of his broad chest and shoulders as he lavished her with kisses. Her heart sped up, and her pulse jumped. How weak a woman was she that she let a man cause her to forget their objective?
“I was merely admiring his form. Perhaps he had the right to ask to be the one who divested the fallen of their second lives.”
A hearty laugh erupted from her sister’s mouth. “The lady doth protest too much.”
Ever shouldered her sister and knocked her to the ground with a fevered grin on her face. Marya clapped her hands in glee, knowing full well what was coming next. Erika leapt to her feet, pulling her daggers from her belt. Danae tossed Ever her sword, which she caught with ease, sighing as soon as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of it.
“You will pay for the disrespect, sister. Let us see if you have become rusty whilst preparing for politics.”
Twisting her wrist around, Ever dived from the dais, landing with both feet apart in the sand, and braced herself to fight.
“Or shall we see if my absence has made you sloppy, Erika? If I entrusted our army to the right general?”
They grinned at each other as they circled one another, waiting with the patience of a hunter stalking prey. Erika struck first with her right hand, punching out with her blade, aiming for the bare skin of Ever’s abdomen. Ever sidestepped easily and turned, swinging the length of her sword, narrowly missing the tender muscles of Erika’s neck.
For the first time in what felt like an age, Ever felt like herself. This was what she was born for, nothing more, and nothing less. The politics of ruling their people held no sway for her, and she wished that her mother would choose one of her other sisters to rule. But Ever was the only one born from their own mother, the only one with the queen’s blood coursing through her veins. It was a curse and a blessing all in one neatly wrapped gift.
She blocked one of Erika’s strikes, holding her sword out and letting the weapons clash off each other, the sound of thunder rumbling as they continued to dance around each other, both evenly matched in poise and skill. All the warriors had gathered to watch them, and Ever could feel the heavenly gaze of the warrior upon her. She knew it was he without even having to look, and she delighted in the feeling that bloomed in the pit of her stomach.
After an hour of strikes and misses, Ever could see her sister waver, and she took advantage of it. With the swipe of her leg, she kicked Erika’s legs out from under her. Her sister’s back hit the sand, and Ever put the tip of her blade to the curve of her neck.
Her sister, far from being angry, beamed up at her and held up her hands in submission, having dropped her daggers to the ground. Ever dug her sword into the sand and held out a hand to Erika, who promptly pulled her down onto the sand next to her—an old trick they had played as children—and they both burst into childish giggles. The crowd cheered at their display of skill, and Ever felt lighthearted as Danae helped Erika up and Ever lifted her gaze to the hand that was outstretched to her.
Hazel eyes held hers as she took the warrior’s hand and he pulled her to him so hard that she had to hold out her palms and brace herself against his chest. Her fingers tingled at the contact, and she slowly inhaled the scent of him. He smelled like the woods and earth. She traced the outline of his chest, and he growled.
“It is very good to have you home, My Queen.”
Ever grunted. “Hush, I am not queen yet.”
“You will always be the only queen I follow.”
She held his gaze for a moment more before stepping back and reluctantly removing her hands from his chest. He smiled at her then, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“What is your name, warrior?” she found herself asking.
The warrior bowed his head once and then held her gaze as he fisted his hand over his chest. “My name is Deryck, My Queen, and I am your future-destined champion.”
“Ever.”
Derek’s voice crashed her back to reality, and she bolted up in the bed, gasping for breath. Her head ached, and confusion swam an ocean in her mind. Where was she? Where were her sisters? What kind of place was she trapped in? Had she been captured by an enemy and cast aside in their dungeon? Her eyes darted from side to side as she searched for a weapon to defend herself.
“Ever, look at me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Her warrior’s voice reassured her, and as she looked over at his gloriously naked body, Ever remembered that she had only been dreaming, and she had awoken in the basement of the police station, and since Derek was Derek again, the sun must be up.
She swung her l
egs over the side of the bed and rubbed her temple. “Oh God! I’m sorry. I must’ve been dreaming again.”
“You were calling my name.”
She blushed. “Was I?”
“Yeah, you were.”
She ran her gaze over him as he sat huddled in the corner of the cage, his knees to his chest, his head resting atop his knees. He looked fine, no aftereffects from the drugs. When she was certain that Derek truly seemed okay, Ever allowed herself free rein to roam her gaze over him. All sculpted muscle that came from hard work rather than hours spent in the gym, his skin was slightly tanned, his thighs thick and his shoulders wide. She drank him in with her eyes and imagined what it would be like to trace her fingertips over the hard-ridged muscle of his stomach. When he cleared his throat, she realized she had been staring at him without saying a word for a while.
“Oh God! I’m sorry. Do you want me to get some clothes for you? There has to be something lying around.”
Cracking his neck, Derek replied, “There’s a supply closet in the room next door with some pants and tees.”
She scrambled from the bed and headed for the door.
“Ever?” Derek said, and she peered back at him. “What were you dreaming about that had you saying my name over and over? And what the hell is a Kappi?”
