by Caris Roane
A wave of her delicate floral scent hit him, and his breath caught. Her perfume affected the nerves in his body.
Streaks of lightning shot down his arms and legs, firing up his muscles. His neck grew almost rigid. His back started to arch and harsh sounds formed in his throat. He felt his dark power rise, and his mist started to swirl around him.
He took another deep breath through his nostrils. The perfume wafted in, and a new fire lit up his brain. He had to get to this woman.
She stood up and reached a hand toward him.
His vision tunneled down to the tips of those fingers. What happened next became a blur. He ran or levitated or partially folded to her position, he wasn’t sure, then grabbed her and pulled her out of the crowd, holding her against him and hauling her off the risers.
The alarms started shrieking as did several of the ascenders in the risers, though he didn’t know why.
A thundering followed.
Maybe he heard Luken’s voice.
HQ must be under attack, though he didn’t see the enemy, just the room moving in a strange way.
Still holding the woman in his arms, the one he had to get to safety, had to protect with every ounce of his being, he folded her to the corner of the room behind a weightlifting machine. He released her then ordered her to hunker down. He turned around to face the room, folding his identified sword into his right hand, his dagger to his left, ready to take the enemy on, to battle ten, a hundred, a thousand death vampires if necessary to keep his woman safe.
His dark mist rose in swirls around him, that part of his power he could control. He shifted on his feet, turning in an arc. Let the enemy come.
The alarms stopped suddenly.
The workout center had emptied of spectators, which would make it easier to battle what came at him. But Endelle had returned and the other warriors seemed strangely relaxed. None of them bore a sword in hand, which made no sense.
His vision was still off, even a little blurred.
“So this is what Santiago was telling us about,” Endelle called from across the room. “Look how much more defined his muscles are, bigger, too. And that mist is some bad-ass shit! Holy motherfucker.”
Samuel stayed in his battle pose, sword aloft, dagger ready.
“Stand down, warrior,” Luken commanded. “You’re among friends. No enemy here.”
“I heard the alarms,” he shouted, unwilling to relax his guard. His woman was behind him and needed to be protected at all costs, even if he died doing it.
More strange things happened: Thorne started to smile, then laugh. Jean-Pierre followed, which made Samuel completely uncertain about what was happening. These were Warriors of the Blood, all three men, and now Luken grinned and Santiago shook his head.
“Fold those damn weapons away,” Endelle shouted, “before you hurt the woman behind you. Aw fuck.” She turned to Thorne. “You deal with this goddamn breh-hedden shit.”
She lifted her arm and though all four warriors tried to stop her, she folded and the alarms started shrieking again. Luken once more got on his phone and seconds later, the alarms stopped, but he stayed on the phone. After about a minute, he called out, “Samuel, get rid of your weapons. This is a false alarm. Apache Two is locked down and I just got clearance for you to fold your sword and dagger out of here. Now do it.”
Samuel’s head finally began to clear so that he could see Luken was right. He released his weapons, folding them back to his weapons locker. He still didn’t understand what had happened. His brain had slipped into some kind of overdrive that made no sense.
“Are you Samuel?”
The voice, his woman’s voice, played a soft melody over his ears. As he turned, she rose from the floor where he’d pushed her down to make sure she was safe.
“Yes, I’m Samuel.” He stared into large, dark blue eyes, her light floral scent still swirling in his head and fracturing his thoughts.
He forgot about where he was as he stepped toward her, dragged her against his chest, and kissed her. Her arms flowed easily around his neck. Nothing had ever felt more natural or more right.
He had to taste her, to see if the floral scent also had a flavor, and it did. She moaned as he drove his tongue into her mouth, pushing and seeking, savoring. He wanted his tongue between her legs doing the same thing. Then his cock. He wanted his mouth on her winglocks, sucking, his fangs striking her neck and her blood down his throat.
He arched his hips into her so that she could feel his arousal and all that he had to offer, all that he intended to give her right now.
* * * * * * * * *
Vela drove her fingers into Samuel’s thick black hair as he pummeled her mouth. She lived in a dream, one that swirled this way then that, like she was caught in a dizzying carnival ride, and she couldn’t get enough.
She wanted more, to feel him inside her, low and deep. She ached between her legs, needing him.
Even her vein throbbed. She grabbed one of his hands and put it to her throat. He groaned as he stroked her neck and her vein rose for him.
She arched her neck, she felt him shift, she even felt saliva as he bathed her throat with his tongue. He would strike soon. His fangs would pierce her throat. She was so close.
Then suddenly everything shifted. At least three warriors were on Samuel, pulling him away from her.
Vela shouted at them. “What are you doing? Stop this. He’s mine. He belongs to me.”
Samuel started roaring at the ceiling, and more of his beautiful dark mist poured off his skin swirling in the air. She drank it in as Luken and Santiago hauled him backward. He fought like a madman but the men were vampire strong and held him.
She struggled to get to him only then realizing that someone held her back. “Mon dieu, cherie, please stop fighting me. We have to separate you just for this moment. I beg you.” Jean-Pierre, the beautiful Frenchman had her trapped. But why?
She shoved elbows into him and finally whirled and scratched at him. Every time Samuel let out another roar, she fought harder.
“Thorne,” Jean-Pierre called out. “We need Alison here. This is not right. Vela cannot calm down and I fear hurting her.”
She saw her opportunity and kneed Jean-Pierre hard. He grunted, doubled over, and suddenly she was free.
She raced, folded, then landed on Samuel, throwing her arms around him. Her weight, combined with his, took him to the floor. The other warriors reached for him again as the alarms once more shrieked. She didn’t understand all that was happening, but she had her man in her arms and held onto him.
When Thorne reached down for her, she hissed, long and loud and formed a spider-like pose over Samuel. Luken’s face looked like a hurricane had hit him.
Thorne said, “Well this is new.”
Vela understood exactly what had to be done and with a thought, she took Samuel into that dreamy place where she’d lived the recent nightmare, dark around the edges, but still in the workout center. At least now, Samuel was safe.
She still spidered over him, but she scanned the area beyond the boundaries of the dark space. Behind her, Jean-Pierre stood bent over, his hands on his knees, his face red. In front of her, Luken, Thorne, and Santiago stood in an arc, looking confused. It seemed clear to her that though she had a perfect view of all of them, they couldn’t see her.
The dreamy place allowed her to see out yet remain unseen. Exactly what she needed.
Luken shook his head. “Shit, she folded Samuel out of here.”
But Thorne, who had power-on-power, stood back and surveyed where they’d just been. “No. She didn’t. Neither did he. I can sense both of them. They’re still here. Well, what do you know; they’re in the darkening.”
“Que?” Santiago said. “The darkening? That is serious shit. You think Samuel has that kind of power, jefe?”
“No,” Thorne said, peering in her direction but not making eye contact because apparently he still couldn’t see her; he just knew or sensed she was there. “I think V
ela does. All right, forget Alison, we need Havily over here right now.”
Luken whipped his phone to his ear and issued a string of soft, calm orders.
Vela didn’t care what any of the men did, so long as they backed off and left her man alone.
She watched Luken shift his gaze to Jean-Pierre, who had remained behind her. Vela spidered, maneuvering sideways so that she could see his approach from the rear, her arms and legs still in a protective arc over Samuel.
Jean-Pierre hobbled in her direction. Oh, that’s right; she’d kneed him hard. Exactly what he deserved for keeping her away from Samuel.
Luken hissed softly. “She got you in the jewels, brother? Ouch.”
She felt something on her cheek and glanced down. Samuel looked at her with a light in his extraordinary gray eyes as he stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful. What’s your name?”
Her need to protect her man, traded places with her desire for him. She’d brought him to safety, still within the workout center, yet not. No one could touch them here. She could keep this warrior with her forever in this place if she had to.
“Vela,” she said. “My name is Vela.” As she eased down onto his chest, and found his lips with her own, as he once more drove his tongue deep inside, she thought forever seemed like too short a time.
He tasted of smoke and chocolate and man. She felt dizzy and aroused, ready to take things to the next level, when a woman called to her by name, “Vela.”
Whoever the woman was, she needed her to go away.
She kept kissing her warrior.
“Vela, can you hear me?”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but she was too busy right now to respond. Samuel had his tongue in her mouth and it felt so good. She hadn’t been kissed in years, not in years, and she wanted more, a lot more. She wanted everything. Now.
“Vela,” the woman called again, more stridently this time. “Can you stop what you’re doing for just a quick sec and talk to me?”
She had her hands knotted in Samuel’s hair and she didn’t want to talk. His hands kneaded her ass and she could feel all his male goodness pressed against her.
“Vela, listen to me. You’re caught in the breh-hedden, try to process that. You’ve never even met the man you’re kissing right now, have you?”
How the hell did the woman know she was kissing Samuel? Even Thorne hadn’t been able to see her.
As though having read her mind, the woman added, “I can see you kissing Warrior Samuel. Can you look up at me? I think you’ll be able to see me, too. I’m in the darkening with you. I have this power, as well. Your darkening ability.”
Darkening power?
She felt the urge to protect her man rise up again. She pulled away from Samuel and lifted up once more to half-spider him with one leg arched between his and one arm curved over him, her fingers touching the soft workout mats just past his shoulder.
She hissed softly, at the intruder, which proved to be a beautiful woman, with red hair, surrounded in a soft glow. Of course she knew her, who didn’t? She was Warrior Marcus’s breh.
But why was the powerful Havily Morgan spying on her, invading her secret space? How had she gotten here?
Havily stood within the black-edged boundaries of the protective place Vela had created, a glowing presence. “You need to go away, Havily. I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t be here. I will die before I let harm come to Samuel.”
Samuel’s hand was once more on her face, then on her breast, fondling. Her long hair covered his arm and hand. “Come back to me,” he whispered urgently. “I need you.”
She looked down at him. “Havily is here.”
“Make her go away. I need you.”
Vela shifted to glare at Havily. “You need to leave.”
“I will, if you’ll just talk to me for a minute. Otherwise, I’ll have to stay. I’m under orders.”
Vela’s arms trembled holding her pose, but she wasn’t about to let anyone get Samuel. He still lay prone, one hand kneading her breast.
She caught his hand and held it still as her mind cleared a little. Havily had spoken of the darkening. So had Thorne. Was this place the darkening? She needed to understand.
She met Havily’s gaze. “You can have one minute, then you’ll have to go.”
“Good,” Havily said. “I have just a few questions. Can you tell me how long you’ve known Warrior Samuel?”
Vela looked down at him and smiled. “Forever.”
She heard Havily chuckle. “I know that feeling well. But when did you first meet him?”
At that, Vela frowned and looked back at Havily. “I…can’t quite remember.”
“Have you ever met him? I mean, been introduced?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“So when did you first see him then?”
Vela leaned back just a little and her thoughts began to come together. “I was sitting on the risers when he walked by.”
“Then what happened? May I ask?”
She nodded. “I caught this wonderful scent, almost like chocolate, but very male.”
“I don’t usually tell people this, but my breh, Warrior Marcus, smells like a field of wild grasses combined with fennel.”
Vela smiled. Havily understood. Havily knew.
Then she remembered Madame Endelle saying something about the breh-hedden.”
“This is the breh-hedden,” Vela said, a rush of understanding ripping through her. “Oh, my God.”
“Very much so.” Havily held her palms up. “I went through something similar with Marcus during those early days. Luken dragged Marcus off of me and Antony held me back. It was…horrible. But later, I was completely mortified. I’m saying this so that you’ll know you’re not alone in what you’re probably feeling right now, or what you will soon experience.”
Vela shifted her spidery arm and leg so that now she knelt beside Samuel. Her heart started pounding and her cheeks felt fiery hot. “Oh, my God. No.”
She shifted away from Samuel, who sat up and stared at her not with lust, but with a puzzled expression. The dimming of her possessive, sexual feelings seemed to be having an effect on him.
Havily’s presence had done what otherwise would have been impossible. She’d essentially stopped them from having sex, in the darkening, right in the middle of the Apache Junction Two Militia Warrior Headquarters workout center.
She scooted back on her knees. “Warrior Samuel, oh, my God. I don’t know what happened.” Havily was right about one thing; Vela didn’t know him at all.
And she was mortified beyond words.
He reached his hand toward her but let it fall away before he made contact. “I am so sorry,” he said. “The need of the moment overwhelmed me. Jesus.”
But as she looked into his eyes, the power of the breh-hedden began to descend on her once more, especially as another wave of his erotic chocolate scent swamped her.
His gray eyes grew wild once more. “Yes,” he said, his gaze smoldering, boring into her. She felt herself falling back into the experience, as though to do anything else would be to defy the heavens.
“Vela,” Havily called sharply.
She drew in a deep breath and shifted her gaze back to Havily. “Oh, dear God.”
“You’ll be okay. That’s it. Just breathe. And if you can move away, it will be even better for you, or at least easier.”
Vela scooted a few feet back on the mats. She reminded herself that she didn’t know this man and that he was the last thing she wanted in her life: a warrior.
She closed her eyes and forced air deep into her lungs. After a moment, when she opened them, she spoke to Havily. “Could you give us a minute? We need to sort this out?”
Havily nodded and disappeared, though a faint glow, like a trace, remained behind, an after-signature.
“If we’re going to talk,” Samuel said, “I’ll need more distance. I’m barely holding on her
e because all I can think about is pulling you into my arms.”
She jumped to her feet because if she didn’t she’d let him do whatever he wanted to do.
“Thank you,” he said. He crossed his legs, his kilt looped into his lap. He stared at the black mats on the floor then shaded his face with one hand. “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered.
She took another step away from him, but couldn’t keep from staring at him. He was incredibly handsome with strong cheekbones angling to an equally powerful jaw. His nose had a slight curve, maybe not as marked as Warrior Santiago’s, but for her much more appealing.
Samuel. The word floated through her mind. She caressed his name again, Samuel.
He looked up at her. Telepathy?
Her cheeks grew warm again. Yes. You heard me call your name?
He nodded.
You spoke into my mind earlier, she sent. You called me your woman.
At that he shook his head, and with his forearms resting on his knees, he said, “I only vaguely remember. The moment you stood up, I had to go to you, to get to you.”
“The breh-hedden.” She said the word out loud so that she could start making sense of it. The call to him was still there, a ferocious beast that for now she had caged, but she’d never felt anything like this, like she had to be with him, be near him, touch him, take him into her body in as many different ways as she could, and do it now.
At the same time, she felt compelled to tell him of her dream. “I saw you battle last night.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how, but I think I was in the darkening and I felt called to the Superstitions. I watched the battle, how you saved Santiago. I just didn’t know who you were.” She told him several details of the terrible encounter, that he hadn’t been in wing-mount, and that he’d used both levitation and folding skills to slay the enemy.
“My God,” he said. “Do you do this often? I mean do you have these kinds of visions about other warriors?”
Her heart sank. “Never. This was the first time.”
“Then we’re connected somehow.” His jaw worked a couple of times. He pressed his lips into a grim line.
