Possessed by a Dark Warrior

by Felicity Heaton

  The pounding of her heart grew frenzied as fear seized her, her eyes locking on his fangs as he launched at her again, aiming for the base of her left wing.

  He was going to kill her.

  Taryn kicked hard with both back paws, slamming them into his belly and knocking him back just as his jaws closed. His fangs clacked together bare inches from her wing bone and he growled at her. She kicked again, frantic with a need to escape him.

  Only one thing could have caused him to turn on her.

  He had found the sword.

  He must have used her scent on the cloth, tracking it through the castle.

  As he reared back, looming above her, bloodlust shining in his narrowed eyes, she did the only thing she could to save herself.

  Taryn shifted back into her mortal form. Her weaker form.

  Fear was clouding her judgement and she had to see through it to the truth, trusting that he didn’t want to kill her. He just wanted to punish her for taking what belonged to him.

  His greatest treasure. His prized possession.

  She had to trust that his dragon instincts and his instincts as her twin brother were still strong enough to prevent him from attacking her when she was weak and he could easily kill her.

  He remained staring down at her, cold merciless eyes pinned on her as she huddled on her side, naked and trembling. Blood coated her, seeping from the gashes he had inflicted, the wounds burning even as the red liquid cooled her skin around them, catching the steady breeze that blew across the valley.

  Taryn prayed to the ancient gods and closed her eyes, bracing herself for his killing blow.

  May the gods have mercy on Hell. She had failed everyone. Tenak would kill them all now he had the sword.

  The expected blow didn’t come and she managed to convince her lungs to work and her eyes to open.

  They did so slowly, fear still flowing through her, poisonous whispered words that said he would strike her down the moment she set eyes on him.

  Tenak stood before her in his mortal form, dark purple leathers encasing his legs. His handsome face was dark as midnight, grim and forbidding, filled with the anger she could feel flowing from him and over her. His cold eyes held hers, sending a deeper tremor through her, one that wracked her right down to her soul.

  She had looked into the eyes of hundreds of males, all of them wretched and dark in some way, foul and twisted, but she had never looked into their eyes and witnessed what she could see in Tenak’s.

  He wanted to kill her.

  She had never feared those males, her masters, as she feared her own brother.

  “You had the sword,” Tenak growled and advanced on her. She shifted onto her bottom and scooted away from him, until her back hit a boulder and she had nowhere to run to escape his fury. He bared sharp teeth at her and his eyes flashed like fire. “You kept it from me. You lied to me.”

  Taryn shook her head, shifting her violet-to-white hair across her bare shoulders. “No. No, Brother.”

  He snarled. “Liar. You deceived me. You stole the sword and you kept it from me. It is mine, Sister. Mine.”

  “I know,” she said and he stilled, some of the tension leaving his muscular body as he eased back a step and eyed her, silently commanding her to continue. “I was bringing it back to you.”

  He didn’t look as if he believed her. She had to convince him that she had been returning the sword to him or her quest to free Hell of her brother’s demented plans was going to end here, with her back against a rock, caged between it and him.

  Caged.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and fought that word, that feeling it awoke in her, sinking the sensation deep into her bones until she felt trapped in her own skin.

  The trembling worsened as she began to lose the fight and she started to rock, stared at his knees and desperately tried to hold the pieces of herself together so she didn’t fall apart. Not now. She needed to convince her brother to believe her. She couldn’t slip into the madness. She fought it, but no matter how fiercely she pushed back against it, it was gaining ground, pulling her down into the darkness.

  “I am to believe you meant to return the sword?” Tenak hunkered down in front of her, his deep voice little more than a thick growl as he glared at her.

  His lips twisted in a vicious smile that faltered when he reached out to touch her and she flinched away. A frown flickered on his brow, a brief flare of anger in his eyes that she felt was directed at someone else and not her.

  At the males who had shattered her in a way, even when she had believed herself unbroken.

  “I escaped,” she whispered, not strong enough to put more force behind her words. They shook from her lips, trembled as fiercely as her body. “I spent months tracking the sword… and I stole it back… I was bringing it to you.”

  His face darkened again and he curled his outstretched hand into a fist and drew it back to him. He unfurled it and pressed it against his bent knee, mirroring his other hand. The position caused his bare chest and arms to tense. A display of power. A tactic many male dragons employed where females were concerned. He was making sure that she knew he was stronger than she was, both in this form and his dragon one, silently keeping her in line and under his rule by eliminating any thought about attacking him.

  “If you were bringing it to me,” he murmured in a low voice that was so calm it set her on edge, screamed at her that he was close to lashing out at her again, “why did you not give it to me that day I found you here in the valley?”

  Taryn swallowed hard and managed to force her eyes up to meet his. “Because you were angry with me… as you are now. I was afraid. I feared you would kill me. I fear you will—”

  “I would never kill you,” he interjected, and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. The next second his hand wrapped around her throat and he snarled, “But if you are lying to me… I will butcher you.”

  Taryn’s heart skipped several beats before slamming hard against her ribs, and she quickly shook her head. Her eyebrows furrowed as the fear that had already been flowing through her shot up to a level where it was hard to breathe, and almost impossible to find her voice to speak and convince him otherwise.

  His hand tightened around her throat, sending her careening beyond the reach of fear as fury rose up to overwhelm her.

  Cold steel. Heavy. Tight. Choking her.

  She hissed at him, grasped his wrist and yanked it away from her throat, twisting it hard at the same time and tearing a pained yelped from him.

  “I was bringing the sword to you,” she snarled, the darkness in her voice shocking her, but not enough that she could escape the grip of it.

  She tightened her grip on Tenak’s arm, digging her emerging talons into his flesh and spilling his blood. His eyes darkened but they no longer frightened her. If he wanted to fight her, she would fight him back, and he would learn that she was no longer the meek little female he had always protected.

  She was a fierce dragoness.

  “I brought it to you because I need you to help me make them pay.” She bared her fangs and spat on the floor between them, aiming it at those who had caged her, who had somehow broken her despite her attempts to stop them. “I want to make them all pay.”

  Tenak’s grimace became a dark smile that pleased her too much, promising her retribution.

  Vengeance.

  “You are the only one who can help me!” she hissed and held his gaze, knowing that his only reflected the madness, the hunger for bloodshed and violence, that filled hers. “You are strong… more powerful than I… and with the sword… you will be invincible.”

  Tenak grinned and rose onto his feet, easily shaking her grip. He held his hand out to her, his eyes filled with a bloody promise, one she wanted to accept even when she knew she shouldn’t.

  “This valley is our kingdom now… but soon all of Hell will cower at our feet.”

  Taryn placed her trembling hand into his and allowed him to pull her on
to those feet he spoke of, and the image his words evoked terrified her.

  Because she had made it possible.

  As she stared up into her brother’s eyes, she could only feel one thing.

  She had made a terrible mistake.

  And all of Hell was going to pay for it.

  CHAPTER 9

  Bleu sipped the dark bitter liquid, the cream mug warming his left hand, and stared at the bustling mortals. Their idle chatter blended into one stream of sound that filled the silence in his mind as he relaxed in a corner of the large warmly-lit room, surveying them and picking out the differences between each individual. He took another sip, enjoying the buzz that chased through his entire body each time the liquid hit his tongue. He had become accustomed to the brew the mortals called coffee, slowly introducing himself to it, aware that it held the same risks as alcohol. Too much, too quickly and he would be hit with the full effects in a heartbeat, and the thought of bouncing around like a maniac, jacked up on caffeine, was not appealing.

  It also tended to make it hard to hold his mortal guise. His black apparel of t-shirt, jeans and a long coat was only part of his disguise, and the easiest one to control since they were clothes he owned and had teleported to him before entering the establishment. The one he was in danger of losing control over was the more important part of his disguise, an elven trick that allowed him to blend into his environment by changing two key areas of his appearance—his eyes and his ears.

  Right now, his eyes were a more human shade of green and the tips of his ears were rounded, but if he lost control, they would change back to violet and to pointed.

  And gods help him if he really lost control and his fangs descended.

  So, small sips were required, caffeine in moderation.

  He sank into the armchair, green gaze idly following a male as he crossed the room to a group of waiting friends who greeted him with warm smiles and affectionate embraces. Losing interest, he switched his focus to another patron of the shop devoted to the dark brew, a younger male, one so awkward in his own skin that Bleu wanted to shake his head and give the boy a few pointers in how to hold himself with confidence, commanding the respect of those around him.

  The teen shuffled from foot to foot in the queue, bright gaze leaping between his red scuffed shoes and the female serving behind the counter.

  A crush, perhaps?

  He had been young once, but he had certainly never been so unsure of himself, so embarrassed around females.

  What in the gods’ names did mortal society do to young males to turn them into such pathetic limp creatures, afraid of their own shadow in the presence of a pretty female?

  He snorted and took another sip, diverted his attention elsewhere and settled it on a slightly older male, this one looking as if he had indulged in far too much feasting. His shorn hair was visibly receding as he removed a cap and then replaced it, neatening it as he moved through the occupied tables. The male stopped at one where a lonely female sat and Bleu canted his head. The female was pretty enough. Not beautiful, but she had kind eyes and a warm smile for the male as she stood and embraced him.

  Bleu huffed and shut them out as they began to kiss, no longer interested in watching them.

  He swirled his cooling coffee in his mug, his eyes on it, the gentle buzz in his veins quietening as his body purged the caffeine and the silence in his mind dissipating, whispered thoughts surfacing as his focus turned inwards.

  He had come to this place to fill some time, but perhaps he had only thought that. Perhaps he had subconsciously had an ulterior motive for venturing to a place where mortals were known to pass idle time, thinking about things in their life or meeting with friends to talk.

  Perhaps he had come here to think too.

  That realisation seemed to open the floodgates, filling his mind with too many thoughts, all of which clashed, crashing against each other until the comfortable silence he had been enjoying became a cacophony he could no longer ignore.

  The coffee cup shimmered out of focus, replaced by Loren in the courtyard, looking at him in a way that had spoken to him, telling him something without his prince having to use words, answering the question Bleu had done his best to ignore.

  Why had he left the elf kingdom a month ago?

  He could easily lie to himself, keeping the one he had been living rolling and pretending the truth was the lie instead, but he was tired and everything over the past few days had mounted up on his shoulders and they felt heavy now.

  Pressing down on his heart.

  His prince was right.

  He had left because he had no longer had a purpose or a place where he felt he belonged.

  For four thousand two hundred years, he’d had the purpose and that place, but now things were changing.

  No.

  Now everything had changed, and it felt as if it had happened in the blink of an eye.

  Forty-two centuries, most of his life, lived in the same way. A routine that had been ingrained so deeply in him that now that it was gone, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing anymore.

  His prince no longer needed him as a personal advisor, or to take care of him. He no longer had to attend to Loren’s morning ritual, entering his rooms at the castle before he woke to open the curtains and the double doors to allow light and air into the space. He no longer had to ensure Loren had the blood he needed to heal whenever he was injured, or that he didn’t overwork himself and had the rest he required to remain strong.

  He had been reduced to a glorified bodyguard, his primary responsibilities taken away from him.

  By Olivia.

  Loren’s mate and the kingdom’s new princess.

  Olivia had replaced him, and Loren no longer needed him.

  It was the same with Iolanthe, his sister. She had Kyter now, her mate who travelled with her on her adventures when she was hunting for an artefact, there to get her out of whatever trouble she landed herself in. It had been Bleu’s job once.

  For his entire life, since Iolanthe had been brought into it, he had watched over her, had protected her and taken care of her.

  Now she had another male to do that for her.

  His fingers tightened around the mug, threatening to shatter the delicate clay.

  He no longer had a purpose when once his purpose with those two people, the two he was closest to, had meant everything to him. Serving as Loren’s aide and commander, and protecting his sister, had been his life and he had loved it.

  Bleu closed his eyes, his eyebrows dipping low as he tried to shut out the noise of the coffee shop and the roar of his heart as it ached, throbbing madly behind his ribs. He rubbed the spot over it with his free hand, shifting the black t-shirt he wore. It was just the caffeine making it pound and hurt. Nothing else.

  He set the coffee cup down and focused on something else.

  The dragon.

  His thoughts were quick to shift to her whenever he felt lost and adrift, uncertain. He mulled over everything he had learned in the last month, every shred of information, even the small titbits that had seemed like nothing at first glance. He lost himself in his hunt instead, systematically shutting down the parts of him that were shaken by the changes in his life.

  Changes that were jarring and unsettling, difficult for him to process.

  Gods, he wasn’t processing them at all.

  Loren knew it. Bleu had seen it in his eyes and knew what the male had wanted to say to him, what he would have said if they had been in private.

  He had responded to the upheaval in his life in the only way he knew—by distancing himself.

  Loren had pointed it out countless times during their centuries together, always with a smile, a laugh in his voice even though he was deadly serious, as if he thought delivering it in such a manner would stop Bleu from glaring at him.

  It never did.

  But he didn’t know how else to react. He hadn’t received the lessons that Loren had during his upbringing, given training in han
dling delicate situations often involving the feelings of others, ones that had enabled him to process his own emotions too.

  Bleu had been trained as a soldier from his youth, taught how to respond to situations in a more tactical way, and that was exactly what he was doing now in order to protect his heart from taking more damage.

  He had withdrawn in order to regroup.

  He sipped the coffee and grimaced as the cold liquid hit his tongue, set the cup down and pushed it away from him, sliding it across the dark wooden surface of the round table. He kept his hand outstretched, fingers resting on the table top, his green eyes fixed on them, his mind wandering a course that was unfamiliar to him.

  One that had it connecting to the heart he had locked behind walls of elven metal so impenetrable he had thought it safe, when in reality it had been exposed all this time, allowing Loren and Iolanthe to steal a piece of it and leave him bereft as they had left him behind.

  He growled under his breath and fought to push his thoughts onto a more stable path, one free of the tangled web of emotions slowly snaring him and pulling him deeper into his feelings.

  Rosalind flashed into his mind, a fleeting image of her looking down at Vail, her blue eyes filled with adoration and tenderness, and Vail gazing back up at her, the corners of his lips tilted into a satisfied and peaceful smile.

  Bleu curled his fingers into fists and the sound of wood creaking hurled him out of his memories and back to the present. He stared at his serrated claws where they were still pressed deep into the table top and the long ragged grooves he had cut into the wood with them without even realising it.

  He hadn’t issued a command to his armour.

  Hell, he hadn’t even had it out under his mortal clothing of black jeans, boots, t-shirt and long coat.

  It was out now though, covering him from toe to neck, forming his claws.

  A response to the darkness that had surged through him on remembering how tender Rosalind had been with Vail?

  He drew down a deep breath and focused on his armour, willing it to return to the black and silver bands around his wrists. It obeyed, but not instantly, taking more than a second before it responded to the command. Not good.