by Angel Lawson
“Then show me! You’re each amazing with your talent and art, but there’s something deeper inside. I can feel it.” I take a deep breath. “I feel it in your touch. In your bodies. You’re so strong.”
Expressions of pride settle on the faces of my guardians. Oh boy, they liked that. Dylan is the one to reply for the others. “It’s a double-edged sword. We are strong. We are beyond capable. And we do hone our skills each and every day. But if we have to show you what we can do, then we’ve failed.”
“Why?”
“It means the Darkness has slipped by us and the gates of hell have opened.” He gives me a hard look. “Don’t ask for something you can’t take back.”
I nod in understanding. For all their tough bravado, these men are playing with fire—me—and if they’re not careful they will set off a bomb they can’t contain. I pick up my fork in an effort to change the subject and move on with dinner.
What I don’t tell them is that during Bunny’s story, listening to the pain and the wonder of the gods’ decisions, the rune over my left breast burns like the fire of a thousand suns.
And I like it.
Chapter 11
Damien
With the package in hand, I cross the entry foyer, hoping to catch Dylan in his rooms. Davis, always seeming to know my intent, stops me from the pantry off the kitchen.
“Master Dylan is down in the training room.”
“Is he?” He hadn’t mentioned an extra session, but I suspect I know the reason. “Thank you, Davis, you saved me from going up three flights of stairs.”
I cut down the side hallway and take the back stairway to the basement training room. Midway down I hear the loud, thumping bass Dylan cranks up during workouts. I push open the door and see he and Clinton are in the middle of one of their crazy circuits. The moves are intense and I can’t help but stop in the doorway and watch.
Although we’re all superb physical beings, Dylan and Clinton are the biggest of the guardians. Dylan is tall and lean, his muscles tight cords that run along his back and arms. Clinton is just massive. A huge beast of a man. When you see them like this—or really any of us in the training room—it’s not far-fetched to believe we were created by the gods.
With Clinton timing, Dylan begins the last round of nine circuits. Nine pull-ups, nine push-ups, nine dead-lifts, then platform jumps, planks, and four other back-breaking exercises. Dylan groans in pain as he pushes through the final round, screaming as he drags a hundred-pound weight from one side of the room to the other.
“Time,” Clinton says.
Dylan screams in pain, relief, and accomplishment before picking up the weight and throwing it across the room. It lands two feet away from me with a crash on the rubber mat.
“Hey,” I call out. “Don’t take that stress out on me.”
They both look up and Dylan gives me a sheepish grin. He’s breathing heavy and sweat soaks through his gray t-shirt.
“You want in?” Clinton asks, racking the weights.
I shake my head. “I worked out earlier and I’m about to head out for a while.” I hold up the package. “I finished.”
Clinton drops the last weight in the rack with a heavy thud and Dylan stares at the felt-wrapped object in my hands. I unwrap it, excited to show them.
“Damn, she’s gorgeous,” Clinton says.
“Can I?” Dylan asks, holding out his hand.
“Yeah, of course.”
The sword is solid but lightweight. The hilt is carved with protective runes and I embedded magic-infused gems into the guard. Dylan takes the sword by the grip and holds it upright. “Beautiful.”
He performs a few moves, the blade cutting through the air and glinting in the harsh training room lights. Satisfied, he flips it over and offers the handle to Clinton, who tentatively takes the powerful weapon.
“You’ll start training her tomorrow?” Dylan asks him.
“First thing.” He raises an eyebrow, skeptically. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s part of the prophecy. We have to teach her properly. God forbid the gate falls and she’s unable to fight.”
“What if she uses it against us?” I ask. It’s the question we all have. I know I feel the creeping Darkness every time I’m near her. The longer it takes her to find a mate, the more apparent it is.
“I have faith Morgan is strong enough to withstand the evil and will fight for the good,” Dylan replies. He looks between us. “Do you not?”
“I think she needs to pick a mate and channel her energy as intended. Her indecision is concerning,” I say.
Clinton’s eyes narrow. “Are you jealous? Because—”
I hold up my hand. “No, I’m not jealous. It’s hard to be jealous when every time she or anyone else in this house gets off and you feel it too. It’s the best of both worlds and I’m sworn and dedicated to my service. But instead of the Darkness diminishing as she explores her choices, I just feel it getting stronger.” I look at Dylan. “Do you not?”
“I concede that Morgan herself is getting stronger. I’m not sure about the Darkness.” He walks over to grab his towel and wipes the sweat off his face. “She’ll have to choose at the end of the thirty day span. She has twelve days left. After today, I’m confident that she not only understands her role, she’s embracing it.”
“Was that before or after she sucked you off?” Clinton asks. I search his eyes for a hint of the jealousy Dylan accused me of but it’s not there. It’s a genuine question.
Dylan holds him with a hard stare and simply replies, “During.”
Chapter 12
Morgan
The city lies before me, like a kingdom. The lights spread for miles, dotting the landscape with tiny stars. The heat of the day has dissipated and the green grass under my feet is soft and warm.
After dinner, Sam asked if I wanted to see the rooftop garden. Although Dylan mentioned it when I’d first arrived at The Nead, I’d forgotten it existed. We passed by Bunny’s studio (where he’d disappeared to right after the meal was over), and into a narrow alcove with what looked like a small, built-in seat. I’d never paid much attention to it. Sam hopped up on the platform and opened a small door on the low ceiling. It wasn’t a seat but a step.
Sam offered me his hand and helped me up. My muscles were sore from my morning workout and the climb up the narrow, wooden staircase seemed to go for miles. He waited for me at the top and snapped my photograph as I walked into the garden for the first time.
Long stretches of grass. Small fruit trees. Flowering bushes and plants line flat-stoned pathways. Sam stretches his arms like he’d been dying to do it all day.
“Come on,” he says, taking me to a small bench facing the west. “We’re just in time for the sunset.”
I split my time between watching the orangey-pink ball of fire disappear and Sam work his camera. It’s a nice one with a complicated lens and attached flash. He takes pictures of me, the sunset, and the city below. I know the photos aren’t normal. None of his pictures turn out the way things look now—but tainted by the influence of the Darkness. Sam’s cameras capture the image of what the world will be—not how it currently is.
“Can I see how it works?” I ask once the sun has disappeared and the sky is streaked with purple. Stars dot the sky behind us to the east.
He walks behind me and circles his arms around my body so the camera is before us, capturing an amazing view of the city below. I feel the heat of his breath on my neck and the thump of his heart against my back. In my ear he says, “It looks normal through the viewfinder.” I squint and see the buildings in the distance. Nothing weird. He snaps a few photos and then clicks a button, making the images appear on the small screen.
“Holy crap,” I say, pulling the camera closer. Sam leans his chin on my shoulder. On the screen the beautiful, lit-up city is gone. There’s nothing but the shell of jagged, bombed-out buildings and a hazy, ominous mist hovering over the decaying city. “This happens every
time?”
“Yes.”
“So, even though we’re doing all this to stop me—the Morrigan—from opening the gate, this is still going to happen?”
“Yes,” he says but then frowns. “Well, maybe. Right now? Yes. Can we change it? We think so.”
“How?” But I know the answer. I feel it in my bones. The hunger and the want. I must take my mate and release the negative energy inside into the one I’ve chosen. They hope the Morrigan will be appeased with a bond. I lean against the edge of the building and face Sam.
He cups a hand behind my neck. “I know it’s hard and I know it’s a lot to take in. You came up here to be a student and now you’re dealing with all of this.”
“I’m not even close,” I confess. “I have no idea who I want to pick.” I gaze into his sincere, sympathetic eyes. “When I’m with you, I want you. When I’m with Clinton or Damien or Bunny or Dylan…I want them. You each give me the feeling of safety and security. You all bring out my deepest desires. I trust you all. With my body—with my life. I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose.”
“You have a few more weeks.”
I slip my arms around his waist and pull him closer. “Two months ago,” I tell him, “I sort of liked this one guy at school. He was cute-ish, with a hipster beard and glasses kind of like Bunny’s. But he wasn’t that into me and he was sort of a pretentious dick.”
Sam raises an eyebrow.
“I thought Ryan was the best I could get, you know? I never had great luck with guys. I had no idea the five of you would not only be here but had been waiting for me all along.”
“Maybe that’s why you never clicked with anyone.” He presses his lips to mine. “You knew, deep down, we were here.”
“Is it weird?” I ask him. “Knowing I’m with the others? That we do…stuff together?” Even in the shadowy garden I know Sam can tell I’m blushing. I’m getting better about it—talking about sex—but even so, it’s still awkward at times.
He stares at me for a minute and then asks, “Did you ever hear how we transformed from ravens to men?”
“No.”
He takes my hand and leads me to a wrought-iron bench with a spectacular view. Roses bloom nearby and I smell their heady fragrance.
“When you opened the gate the last time and the Darkness got through, things became chaotic. We’d been sent to watch and observe you in the form of a raven. The instant the Darkness crossed over it was like suddenly we were too large for our skin. I was in the air searching for you when I fell from the sky, landing hard on the ground. My bones broke and stretched. My feathers dropped from my body. My skin peeled away. I, and the others, were left in the forest in new bodies,” he uses his hands to gesture, “these bodies, with the understanding we needed to get the gate closed and find you.”
“But you didn’t find me.”
“No, but we closed the gate.” Sam looks out over the city. “It was a hard battle. And we fought it on both sides, until we managed to close it up once more. You were gone by then—disappeared into thin air—but we knew this was a good thing. You needed hiding and we were no longer able to follow you like we had once before.”
“So then what?”
“We were brought up here, to The Nead. We worked and studied, refining our skills until we found you again.” He takes my hand. “To answer your question about how we feel about this; we’ve known this day was coming for a long time. We’ve prepared for it. We’ve trained for it. We will do anything for you, Morgan. Anything. Jealousy isn’t an option.”
His words are sweet. Heartbreaking really, but something else bothers me and I finally just ask. “I know I’m supposed to choose my true mate. But what about you all? Is it just an obligation? A duty? Or does love not matter in all of this?”
He laughs and shakes his head. Lifting my hand to his mouth, he kisses my palm. “You own our hearts, dear Queen. Our minds and our souls. The guardians not chosen will break into a thousand pieces when you finally pick the one, but it’s a risk we are willing to take. It’s a risk we must take.”
“This is just so freaking weird.”
The sky is fully dark now and the city casts a glow over the garden. I take a deep breath, absorbing the flowers and trees. Absorbing Sam. Even though our time together has been chaste—nothing more than a few kisses--I feel a sense of peace from our talk. Our bond is more than sex. My release comes from my mind as well as my body. I look at the handsome, sweet man next to me and for the first time since I learned about needing a mate, I think I feel a little closer to a decision than ever before.
Chapter 13
Clinton
The sliver blade glints when I hand it to Morgan. Her eyes widen and the surprise that graced her lips shifts into something different—the curve of a small smile.
“Damien made this for me?”
“Yes. For your training.”
She looks up from the sword, her eyebrow lifting in question over her dark, curious eyes. “You want me to fight with a sword. Like a knight or something? Wouldn’t it look a little weird for me to carry a weapon like this?”
“When—if—the Darkness succeeds, Morgan, the ways of the present will fall away.” I press my hands over hers, feeling the magic in the sword rush from the hilt through her skin and then mine. “The enemies you’ll fight won’t go down easily. This will help you win.”
“So to beat the Darkness, which we don’t even know exactly how that will present itself, I need physical training, runes painted on my body, magical charms,” she glances at the ring on her finger, “and now this? You’re scaring me, Clinton.”
“Good.”
I slip behind her and maneuver my hands around her hips and back onto the blade. Her body molds to mine and I inhale her sweet scent. “You’ll want to hold it like this.”
I show her but it quickly becomes apparent that her innate abilities are strong. She holds it perfectly, cutting through the air with precision. Her hair is pulled back but wild tendrils curl around her face, and her cheeks are bright with excitement.
“How does it feel?” I ask, taking a step back.
“Good,” she says with a hint of surprise.
I walk across the room and grab my own weapon, a similar sword off the rack on the wall. When I return to the mat, we square off. “Are you ready for this?”
“Strangely,” she says, gripping the handle, “I think I am.”
I’m skilled in the art of warfare. The gods created me from the ash of the strongest, most cunning soldiers in the Morrigan’s war. I know her moves as well as I know my own. I’ve shadowed her from the sky and the ground. I’ve slept next to her soul. But today I have height and weight on her. I have experience she hasn’t even begun to unravel—yet she stands before me with the darkest glint in her eye and I know I should be careful.
The tip of her sword shines against the light and she smiles wickedly before lunging to the left and then spinning, throwing me off balance. I straighten and tilt my head.
“It’s like that then?” I feel the surge of adrenaline between us and can’t take my eyes off the way her chest heaves with excitement.
Her only reply is to lick her lips before she goes on the attack once again, her blade slicing toward me.
I bring down my sword and we duel.
Chapter 14
Morgan
The tip of the blade points at Clinton’s throat. In a blink, he could be dead. One slice and his blood would spill. I’m reveling in my skills when he moves beneath me, sweeping my legs, sending me tumbling to the ground. He moves fast—quick as lightning—and before I can think he towers over me, clasping a hand around my wrist. The sword stays tight in my grip, the magic coursing from the metal, but Clinton squeezes with a mighty force. I grunt bitterly before finally dropping the blade.
The heavy metal is replaced by Clinton’s hand and fingers and in seconds I’m pinned to the ground, not with a sharp sword but by the overpowering man.
“Well done,” he
says. His hair falls over his ears and I long to brush it back. “I think you’ve retained some of the Morrigan’s fighting skills.”
“That’s crazy. How could that even be possible?”
“The same way we all cling to memories, rituals, and understanding of the past. It’s in our soul, Morgan. It’s instinct.”
I look up at him, paralyzed by the gray steel of his eyes. The rush of the fight boils beneath my skin—a conflict of desire. I’m finding that I love a fight. I revel in it, the way my body and mind feel when they’re pushed to the brink. But along with that comes the Darkness that has only one cure. “Right now my instinct tells me to kiss you.”
Clinton licks his lips and dips his head to mine. My hands are still bound and although it makes me a little edgy and out-of-control, I like the way it feels. I like the way he feels. He’s big. He’s unpredictable. And I’ve come to trust him completely.
His mouth lands hard against my own and I sink into the mat. I’m sweaty and slick from the workout but so is he. Unlike Dylan and Bunny, Clinton isn’t shy with his affection, but even though he’ll kiss me there’s a firm line and I know soon we’ll have to cross it.
Unlike the others though, something about Clinton scares me. His size maybe, or just his presence. He’s powerful and I’ve felt the hardness between his legs.
Dylan warned me off but it only took a second for him to become putty in my hands. Clinton? I don’t have the same confidence.
I blink and take in the man hovering over me. He releases his grip and cups one hand behind my head. His kisses are perfection. Soft when they need to be, hard when I want it. The dark energy from the training drains with every touch and I want to inhale him.
I lift up on my elbows trying to reach him and his hands move down my sides, sending a ripple through my body. The runes heat up; I feel them under my skin and I desperately want to feel that way all over, inside and out.
I bite down on his lip and grab for the front of his pants. Murmuring in his mouth I say, “I’m ready for this too.”
