Beating Hearts (A Contemporary and Paranormal Valentine Anthology)

by Krystal Shannan

  CHAPTER THREE

  Elle slowly came into consciousness, aware of the vague feeling of lazy lust and warmth. The hands on her body were big and firm; their touch methodical and meticulous in exploring her body, examining her, confirming that she had survived the conversion. For her there had been no time between the passionate frenzy of meeting, mastering, mating her Nephilim, consuming his blood and this. He was not as lucky.

  For Sorath, the change of his Sinnis from a human into an immortal being was excruciatingly lengthy. For three sun rises and sets, he had watched her lifeless body and listened to her silent mind, cursing himself for believing that his blood could be anything but evil. He had not left her side, not that he had anyone in whom to confide. She was all he had and for three long days he thought he'd killed her.

  "You should have trusted me." Elle's voice sounded rough from disuse but it also had a magical allure to it. Upon hearing her speak, Sorath released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Her smell was intoxicating and made him acutely aware that he had not fed since she'd fallen into the change. "I'm hungry, too." She held her arms up to him without opening her eyes. "We sustain each other from here on."

  She obligingly separated her knees when she felt him pushing his body between her legs. Expecting to feel his mouth further south, she was surprised by his gentle kiss on her own mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him against her, and Elle deepened the kiss. She could feel his worry melting away.

  Rocking his hips back and forth, he rubbed his length along her slit, over her clit, using her own moisture against her. Every ridge and vein dragged over her pearl, sending waves of pleasure through her whole body. Blood rushing, need pooling in her core, she was ready and he slipped inside of her without meaning to. She moaned into his mouth. He covered hers, capturing the sound as if he would gobble up everything she offered.

  It hadn't been his plan - getting right to it - but she was enjoying it so much that he didn't dare stop. He wanted to relish her, savoring their first time as equals. What he could do was move slowly, enjoying the agony of her tight sheath around his painfully hard cock. There wasn't much he could do to slow what was building inside her.

  "Hold me tight," she ordered. Wrapping his arms under her body, he squeezed her so that every thrust was felt on the maximum surface, his hair rasping her skin with every stroke. "Yes, now, harder!" His Sinnis liked to be in control. He was fine with that. Hearing every thought she had the instant she had it meant he didn't need her to tell him what she wanted but hearing her say it was an added bonus.

  There was no softening, no slow withdrawal from her canal. "You didn't orgasm," she stated, the question clear in her voice.

  "My Domme did not give me permission. I believe that is how it works in the BDSM culture."

  "How did you know that?"

  His eyes shifted away from hers. He wasn't sure if what he did was a breach in trust or not. It was simply unavoidable. "I shared your memories while you slept as a way to be with you, to convince myself that you weren't truly dead."

  Perhaps she should have been upset with him but she found she wasn't. His mind was completely open to her and she could access any memory of his that she wanted. It was alright that he had that comfort during her conversion. Elle studied his handsome profile. Her gaze traveled down to his neck where she noticed that he wore a tight leather collar. She tried to slip a finger between it and his skin and, when she couldn't, realized he wasn't wearing it - it was a part of him. She traced the symbol that marked him as hers.

  "It seemed only fair," he whispered, his own gaze going to her neck.

  She put a hand to her throat but was met with only smooth skin. Only then did she notice they were on a roof; no mirror to be found here. She looked into Sorath's thoughts and found the image of what he saw. There it was: his birthstone glowing just below the surface of her skin in the hollow of her neck. It must have settled there sometime during their lovemaking.

  She rolled them over so that she was on top. Sitting back so that she straddled the member still inside of her, she let him lay on his back, looking up at her. Putting her hands on his rock hard abs, she used them to balance while she rode him. It felt incredible to have this being of immeasurable strength at her command. Only after her legs began to shake with anticipation of her building climax, did she give him license to finish.

  His hands flew to her thighs, sliding up to her hips. They were large enough to move her up and down at the tempo he wanted all the while, his thumb reaching the apex of her folds to find the button that activated her own release. They came together and she collapsed onto his chest.

  "I want to fly," she admitted after they'd caught their breath.

  Without hesitation, Sorath stood, holding her against him, and jumped. Only a minor movement from his wings had them soaring. Austin was such a beautiful town, made more so by her enhanced vision. She could see the life, the prana, in everything and the greenbelt was a region through the city lit up like the Las Vegas strip. People shone the brightest, followed by animals and then plants, but her town was so filled with all three that the whole place glowed. Then she saw her home, the huge chunk of land owned by the Daughters of Women, her magical order. It was breathtaking. She could see the shield that surrounded the area like a bubble. The Nephilim and Sinnis there shone like beacons in the night, sources of life and energy akin to the sun.

  Suddenly her throat felt dry. Without realizing it, Elle started to claw at Sorath. Her incisors lengthened into terrible points and Sorath, palming the back of her head, directed her face from the buffet of prana to his neck. She sank her teeth in and took a long pull. Instantly she felt more herself. How could she survive at home with so much temptation if she was going to become a ravenous monster every time she saw a Nephilim, she wondered.

  "You were just overcome with your first bout of hunger. Just as in this instance, I will always be with you to provide what you desire. I will not permit you to become a betrayer."

  Sorath's voice was soothing. Elle offered her own neck to him and he drank a small amount, only enough to be technically following her wishes. Setting her feet back on the rooftop, Sorath let her go. It was the first time since her awakening that their skin had not been in contact and in that instant her mind was bombarded with the thoughts and feelings of thousands around her. The pain brought her to her knees and she clutched the sides of her head, but before she could make contact with the floor Sorath had her. He took to the sky and immediately landed in a nearby empty lot, thinking the connection with Ki, mother earth, would heal.

  "It isn't the ground that silenced them. Your touch did that. Let go." He did so reluctantly and she took a step back. The psychic noise was deafening. If she concentrated hard enough the pain was bearable, but more than unpleasant. Sorath watched her closely, his hands hovering a hairsbreadth from her skin. He wouldn't touch her without permission but he also wouldn't have her brook one millisecond of extra pain.

  Try as she might she could not reduce the pain or noise further, but both went away as soon as she made contact with Sorath. With one down-sweep of his massive wings, they were airborne again. In mere seconds, they were miles above the city. She knew from his thoughts that this distance was a safe zone, had she been able to fly without touching him. The sensation of flight was incredible and sharing the experience with Sorath did almost as much to clear her mind as his body.

  She didn't even have to search for them; her questions were answered before she even asked them. The conversion had enhanced her mind-reading abilities, but Sorath's thoughts would always be stronger, easier to access. His touch made it impossible to hear any but his. Eventually she would be able to filter the thousands and focus on single ones. His blood had made her strong and practice was all she needed to make her power useful again and controllable. Until then, they would need to be in constant contact. That thought wasn't abhorrent to either of them.

  How quickly Elle's life had changed from not being abl
e to stand physical contact with anyone to needing it. She quickly thought of how wonderful the change was, wanting Sorath to know that his endowment, his presence, wasn't a burden but a gift. Even within the coven, she was lonely, cut off from everyone. Now, because he was miraculously, mysteriously, released from the prison that kept him secret from her, she had someone for her own, someone who could calm his thoughts and silence those around her.

  The reminder of his previous dwelling place, made her shudder. The prison held the betrayers, those Nephilim who had given in to their hunger and feasted on the blood of other Nephilim. They were the most dangerous creatures on earth. Prior to the petrification of Nathalia and her Nephilim, Eiran, their blood had been the only key to the monsters freedom. Since they, the Keepers of the Betrayers, had not released Sorath, how had he gotten free and how many more, both those deserving as him and those not, had been released with no one to evaluate or instruct them. Elle needed to see the prison for herself.

  Momentarily forgetting that it was as easy for him to hear her thoughts as it was for her, Elle jumped when Sorath said, "To take you there is impossible. Its location is hidden from us, though now it would not matter." He guided her to the memory of his liberation.

  His view, which had scarcely changed in his century long internment, was bare rock wall. He had felt the moment when the Keeper had found his Sinnis, had seen Nathalia in her first months of immortality. Sorath had also known the moment when the Keeper and his Sinnis had stepped out of time. Their petrification was felt by all inmates, and celebrated. Though the inmates could not communicate from inside their Plexiglas coffin shaped cells, they could sense each other, and one by one Sorath could feel less and less until he knew he was all alone. No one had donated their blood to activate the lock. His pod had split, releasing him into an empty cave, its only other inhabitants similarly cracked pods.

  They arrived almost before she'd decided she needed to go to her coven's compound. The shield was up and though it would have recognized her before, she wasn't sure it would know her with Sorath's blood in her veins. There was no doubt that it would reject Sorath. Elle assured him silently that it was nothing to do with him, not a measure of his worth. The shieldmaker had be-spelled it so that only the witches who lived here and the Nephilim who guarded them would be admitted. They would have to go to the guard tower like every other visitor.

  Landing just outside of the magical barrier, Sorath kept in contact with Elle, shielding her from another blast of telepathy. She watched as a small tab of skin at his neck grew. After it was about four feet long, the texture changed to that of leather, the same as his collar. He had given her a way to touch him without clinging to him and it matched her desired image of being a Mistress with an all powerful submissive. Grasping the leash, Elle took the lead and found it had the same effect as holding his hand.

  They approached the gate naked. She was no stranger to nudity and certainly every woman on the compound and most of the males had seen all of the Daughters of her rank naked a hundred times or more. But this was the first time she didn't fear the vulnerability nudity meant for her specifically. As long as Sorath was with her, no ones touch would bring her powers to the surface. It wasn't long before the Abbess came running down the path, her long dark hair flying behind her.

  She stopped short of hugging Elle, having grown accustomed to the hands off policy. "Elle? We've been so worried about you. You just disappeared..." Maeve stopped when she saw that Elle was not alone. A smile split her face. "Well, I guess finding your Nephilim and being converted is an excusable reason to go AWOL." Seeing more than bliss in her friends expression, she asked, "What's wrong?"

  "We have a problem. My Nephilim was released not by a Keeper, but by the prison itself and he was the last one."

  Maeve's hand flew to cover her mouth. She clearly understood the implication. If the prison was empty, its convicts were on the loose. Dozens of them were free to claim or kill their Sinnis. They were unaware of the method of conversion and many of the women who were destined to save the Nephilim from themselves would die. No Sinnis had ever been killed. There was no limit to what a Nephilim who felt the loss of his mate would be capable of. The world's period of relative safety was over and the Daughters would need a new way to protect humanity.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author Natalie Gibson writes what she likes to read. No matter what genre, her stories are filled with action and adventure that will keep you turning the page, haunting images that stick with you, and endings that keep you coming back for more. Her blend of paranormal and urban fantasy, whether it be contemporary or historical, provides for an entertaining read.

  http://www.authornataliegibson.com

  email me at ishtarbooks@gmail.com

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  Grabbing Fate

  By

  Jinni James

  There’s no harm in a little one-night stand on Valentine’s Day right?

  Ever since high school Samantha has hated Valentine’s Day. But, after spontaneously grabbing the arm of her sexy seating partner Drew, she’s thrown into a night of unbelievable passion.

  A surprise awaits her the morning after.

  Will she grab her fate or run from it?

  CHAPTER ONE

  I hated Valentine’s Day. Ever since my freshman year of high school when my boyfriend of six months decided to dump me on Valentine’s Day to go out with the ditzy blonde bitch I used to call my friend, I had hated the stupid day. I mean who cared about Valentine’s Day really? It wasn’t even a real holiday. I couldn’t walk into a store without being surrounded by red and white hearts, flowers, cards that said what people couldn’t bring themselves to say, and so much candy that made you throw your diet right out the window. I guess you could say I was bitter. But really… shouldn’t you celebrate your love for one another every day instead of going all out one day a year? But how I would I know? I hadn’t had a real relationship since my husband died three years ago from a brain tumor, and on Valentine’s Day no less. I hated the day before I met my husband and I hated the day more afterwards. I didn’t need a relationship. Relationships took up too much time especially for a woman who owned her own business, or that’s what I kept telling myself.

  Maybe that’s why it’d become a tradition for me to go see a horror movie at the theater while every other woman in Alabama dragged their significant others to see a sappy romantic comedy. I used to love those sappy movies, now they made me want to hurl.

  I sat and waited patiently for the previews to start. A few people here and there walked in and took their seats throughout the theater. It seemed like more people shared my feelings about this dreaded day with every passing year. I didn’t care. I had my martini in hand, and I was planning on getting plastered by the time the movie was over. Thank God Huntsville had a theater that served alcohol.

  The screen began to widen, alerting me the previews were about to start, I glanced over just as someone took the seat next to me. What the hell? The theater was full of empty seats. Given there were maybe twenty people in the room, why did this person have to sit right next to me? I nonchalantly picked up my glass and managed a quick peek to my right. The guy next to me was insanely good looking.

  My eyes ventured from his short dark hair down to the bulge in his arms. He was no body builder, but he was definitely toned. He looked over and smiled at me with the most perfect straight white teeth I’d ever seen, and then leaned back in the big leather chair.

  He must be waiting for his girlfriend. There was no way he was here alone. However, by the end of the sixth preview there was still no one sitting beside him. He must have noticed me looking because he looked at me and smiled again. I slumped down into my chair, feeling my face heat with embarrassment. I was so thankful I was in a dark room.

  An hour and a half into the movie and it was just as gory as I thought it would be. It was full of
ghosts and bloody demons jumping onto the screen. Thankfully, the movie was not in 3D and I had yet to scream like a little girl.

  Thirty minutes later one of the bloody ghosts jumped out of a mirror and seemed to slam right against the screen, causing me to jump. I instinctively grabbed hold of the man’s arm next to me!

  “Oh my God! Did you see that?” Realizing I was grabbing a complete stranger, I gathered myself and returned to my original position. I sunk down in my chair again, while facing straight forward. “That didn’t just happen.”

  A low laugh rang in my ears. He leaned toward me. “Yes it did, and just wait until you see what happens next. I’ll place my arm back on the arm rest so if you get scared again feel free to grab it.”

  Surprised, I turned toward him. “Seriously?”

  He leaned in and whispered. “I could think of worse things than having a hot woman clinging to me.”

  As I swallowed the lump in my throat, I returned my attention back to the screen. He didn’t just say that. I kept trying to tell myself that, but every time I peeked out of the corner of my eye he met my gaze and smiled at my failed attempt to be sneaky.

  Sure enough, what came next scared the devil right out of me. Once the ghost grabbed the girl lying on the bed and pulled her off, I jumped again and grabbed ahold of his arm. Like music to my ears, he laughed again and then patted my arm that I had firmly wrapped around his.

  “Told ya.” He smiled again then returned his attention to the movie. I did the same but refused to let go of his arm. Every time the ghost surprised me, I hid my face against his arm. I usually loved horror movies, but this one took the cake. I preferred the old corny stuff as opposed to the realistic crap that could actually happen. People laughed at me all the time because things like ghosts and possessions freaked me out. Movies like Jason or Halloween weren’t too bad. Those were so fake looking.