Adva

by Daniela Jackson

  “Yeah, you could do that stuff for me.” I run my palm down her arm, over the indent of her waist and over her round ass. “You have a really nice ass.”

  I guide my hard cock into her entrance and enter her gently. Her heat and tightness sheath me like heaven.

  We make love. We’re slow. We kiss, laugh, and touch.

  Then we fall asleep, our bodies covered in sweat, our bodies as one.

  Adva

  I wake up as the first sun’s rays brush my face. Conah rolls on his other side and snores lightly.

  I get up, put my underwear and dressing gown on and walk out of the bedroom then out of the house. As my feet touch the grass, coldness penetrates them.

  I blink.

  I inhale.

  I remember everything. Everything.

  A rustle diverts my attention and I turn around. My glance meets Heather’s, but she’s not my Heather. That woman in front of me is a wise and experienced version of my stepdaughter.

  “You’re pregnant,” I say.

  She loops her arm through mine. “I am. Let’s go for a walk.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “You still look eighteen.”

  “I’m an immortal, Mom. I will always look eighteen.”

  We immerse ourselves into the humid coldness puffing from the woods. The scent of resins settles in my nostrils as pine needles scrape my feet.

  “So who’s the father?” I ask. “Theo?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I’m certain it’s Theo.

  I stop and we stand opposite each other, sheltered by a wall of bushes. Streaks of mist slither above the ground like lacy snakes.

  “I remember everything,” I say as bitterness boils inside my chest.

  “I know.”

  “You killed my human fiancés, both of them, child, in cold blood. Now I remember.”

  “I had to kill them, Mom. Tamara sent them to distract you.”

  “They were innocent humans.”

  “Thousands of innocents will die if we don’t stop that bitch.” Heather puts her hand on the back of her neck and massages her pregnant belly with her other palm.

  “I understand.”

  I do. I’ve met Heather on a number of occasions, enough times to understand the threat Tamara poses to us all. Now all the pieces create a clear picture.

  “Mom—“

  “You wiped my memory. And Conah’s.”

  “I had to do this. Everything I do, every bad thing I do—I do it to protect my family. You know this. I have to be bad sometimes so that you can live and be happy.”

  She looks so defeated I grip her wrist and pull her to me, stroking her back up and down.

  “I understand, sweetie,” I say. “I really do.”

  “She’s Lilith, Mom.”

  Dread surges through my veins. “Who?”

  “Tamara.” Heather sobs and clings to me. “Tamara is Lilith. I have just found out about it. I don’t know what to do.”

  The worst bitch of all times has decided to rule over the world. It makes a perfect sense. She wants to have the ultimate authority over all the species. She’s always wanted to. She’s always been a greedy, emotionless bitch.

  “Someone let her out,” Heather says.

  “I suspect.”

  Lilith has been imprisoned for millennia, but it looks like she has a powerful ally. She made fools of all the archangels. She must have—they’re following her after all.

  “I’ll be with you no matter what, I promise.” I kiss Heather’s head.

  “I don’t want to be her daughter,” she shrieks.

  “You’re my daughter,” I say. “You hear me, child? My daughter. You’ve always been my daughter.”

  She pulls away and I hold her hands in mine. Chills go down my spine and I know this is because the timeline is stirring.

  “I can’t say more,” Heather says.

  “I know.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  I kiss her forehead and she vanishes.

  I turn around and my eyes fix on Talia.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as I frown.

  “You know me. I’m always in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She takes a deep breath.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  Talia huffs out. “What a mess.”

  “Go to your husband and son and keep quiet.”

  She steps forward, kisses my cheek and vanishes.

  I breathe in the life waking up in the woods. I listen to the birds twittering their good morning.

  I promise myself to be happy.

  Then I turn around and dart to my husband.

  I dive under the duvet and shake his arm. His sleepy eyes slide over me.

  “I love you,” I say. “You’re the love of my life.”

  “It took you a while.”

  “Everything is nice and clear now.”

  He pulls me into his embrace and plants kisses along the curve of my neck. “You said something about big shopping?”

  ***

  We’re standing in the centre of the shop. Heather turns her head in every direction as Rebel yanks her hand. Theo looks like he’s pissed off. Conah is pissed off, but he tries to hide it behind his beguiling smile.

  I take Rebel’s hand and pull him towards Conah.

  “Your job for today,” I say.

  “Alright.” He nods. “Buy everything you need and I’ll pay.” He grabs Rebel and throws the boy over his shoulder.

  Heather loops her arm through Theo’s, but I tear her off him. Her disappointment pricks my skin like tiny needles.

  Conah walks off to the playground outside the shop and I pull Heather towards the hangers. I dig my hands into the richness of colours and fabrics and show her a red dress.

  Heather winces and looks at Theo like she’s the puppy craving attention.

  “I like the black dress better,” Theo says as he points his finger to a piece of black fabric that looks like a dress from a sex shop.

  “You’d better go to the playground,” I say.

  I must look scary enough because he doesn’t hesitate.

  I pick up a white summer dress and Heather nods.

  “I like this one,” she says.

  “Theo will like it too.”

  “He likes black dresses.”

  “Alright. We’ll buy the black one too.”

  “I can’t wear dresses,” Heather shrieks. “I can’t wear heels as a normal girl would. I’ve never had nice dresses or high heels.” She looks desperate.

  “I’ll teach you.”

  She clings to me. “Can you choose nice underwear for me as well?”

  “I’ll buy you something practical. Something made of cotton.”

  Heather sighs.

  “But on your eighteenth birthday,” I continue, “I’ll buy you some lacy underwear, I promise.”

  ***

  Ten months later.

  We have gathered in the bar to celebrate Heather’s eighteenth birthday. Conah pulls our baby son to his chest as the whole family sings for her. She blows out the candles on her birthday cake and folds her hands as if praying.

  Rive cuts the cake and the plates start floating.

  My family members eat, drink and chat. Heather looks in every direction, pulling down the edge of her black dress that barely covers her ass. She winces and two tears glitter on her cheek—two blue crystals the size of a pinhead.

  I know why she’s crying. Theo wished her a happy birthday and left the bar with a bottle of vodka swinging in his hand.

  I move closer to her and grip her wrist.

  “Let’s talk,” I say and pull her towards the corner of the bar behind the stairs.

  We stand opposite each other in the dark scented with old wood.

  “I have this dress on,” Heather says and sniffles. “I have high heels on… And he’s not here.”

  “Maybe he
doesn’t like parties.”

  Theo has been harsh on her recently. He’s asking for more tasks far from the clubhouse. Rebel is staying either with Talia or with Heather.

  “He doesn’t like me,” Heather says as her voice trembles. “If I try to talk to him he’ll ignore me.”

  “He’s gone through a lot—“

  “I can make him happy. I can make him forget about S’Ylla, about every bad thing that happened to him.” She wipes the tears flowing down her cheeks away from her face with the back of her hand. “He likes going to the casino. Women look at him there. They talk to him there. I saw it with my own eyes. I wanted to kill them all.”

  Ice fills my veins. “But you haven’t killed anyone?”

  “Not yet.”

  I stroke her arm then glide my palm over her head. Her hair is styled in a high bun and it’s adorned with violet blossoms.

  “Everything’s gonna be alright, sweetie,” I say. “Go back to the party.” I shove her towards the bar.

  I sneak out of the bar through the kitchen and pick my way between two wheelie bins and two sheds. My eyes sweep over my surroundings, and I see Theo standing by the oak tree. He’s smoking a cigarette.

  I move closer to him. He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. The smell of tobacco circles around me and dies.

  “Heather is waiting for you to entertain her with your songs,” I say.

  “I don’t sing—“

  “You do, but you haven’t touched your guitar since S’Ylla left you. Sing for Heather.”

  “You can sing for her.”

  I shake my head and send him the sternest of my glances. “It’s her eighteenth birthday.”

  “So she doesn’t need an old man to sing for her.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “Why are you here?”

  I stroke his arm. “I need to speak to you.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Who?”

  I growl and grip his wrist. “You know who. You think I’m blind? I’m old, son, not blind.”

  Theo chuckles and reaches to the back pocket of his jeans with his hand. He takes a red velvet box out.

  “This is what you think it is,” he says in a raspy voice.

  “Good. She needs you, Theo. She needs you desperately. She needs your love and goodness to keep her in check. Do you know who she is?”

  “A weird chick with white wings? A very pretty chick?”

  “She is untamed and dark. She needs your love.”

  “Rebel and I need her too,” he says more to himself.

  “So go back to the bar and give her the ring.”

  “You think…?”

  “No, I know. Give my daughter that ring and marry her.”

  “Does she want me?”

  “Of course she wants you. Go, son.”

  Conah

  Theo walks in and Adva follows him. Heather starts crying like a child and everybody falls silent. Rive takes my son from my arms and drops into the couch.

  Theo approaches Heather, grabs her hand and kneels on one knee. I’m so stunned I can’t move.

  “Heather,” Theo says in a loud firm voice. “Will you marry me?”

  She’s gonna kill him. I know my daughter. She’s a warrior and she’ll kill him for this ridiculous joke. Because this is a joke, right? It can’t be happening.

  “Yes, I will,” Heather says.

  My jaw drops.

  The family erupt into laughter and they clap their hands. Theo stands up and pulls my daughter into his arms, kissing the top of her head. An urge of murder rages inside my chest.

  A tiny hand strokes my arm. I turn my head and my glance meets Adva’s.

  “They’re so in love with each other,” she says.

  “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew. This is my job to know.”

  I watch a man embracing my daughter and kissing her. Music starts to play. Heather clings to Theo like her life depends on it. No, she rubs herself against him. Fucking hell, my hands itch to kill.

  “Shall we dance?” Adva winks at me.

  “Can you see her?” My voice has a high-pitched crack.

  “I told you,” Adva says as she rises on her tiptoes and kisses the angle of my jaw. “Your daughter has grown up. Your daughter is in love.”

  “He’s too old.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  Theo and Heather sway, entangled, around the dance floor. They look like the world is non-existent for them. I’ve never seen my daughter that happy. She’s rubbing herself against Theo like a cat. And that pisses me off so much I pierce my palms with my own nails.

  My glance meets Theo’s.

  I pull myself together.

  I bow my head and he bows back.

  He’s the best of us all. I know he’ll put in ten thousand percent of effort in order to make my daughter happy. I trust in him as I trust in Kadmiel and the others.

  Adva pulls me towards the dance floor and we dance.

  I’m happy.

  I feel complete.

  Then I’m furious because I can’t see my daughter or Theo.

  “Where are they?” I growl.

  “Some place far from you?” Adva winks at me.

  She brings my lips down to hers and I’m mush.

  “I want another baby,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “I want you bent over the table.”

  “Really?”

  Red Amaia

  By

  Daniela Jackson

  Red Riding Hood Retold

  Shadow Immortals Book 3.5

  An Adult Fairytale Romance

  Chapter 6

  Amaia

  The air is still as silence hangs around me like the essence of menace. I pull the red hood of my cloak down, my eyes surveying the woods. A rustle makes me jerk my head to the side. A grey shimmery mist slithers from the woods towards me and layers the path I’m standing on. The silence rings in my ears. I feel the subtle vibes of some primal presence prick my skin. It’s untamed, brutal, animalistic. Invisible. Another rustle makes me shudder. My skin prickles. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  I reach back to the swords hanging on my back and sweep my cloak away to my left shoulder, gripping the hilts. The metal blades screech as I remove them from the scabbards. With my arms raised, I bend my knees and steel myself.

  A swish goes through the air, followed by a dull sound. I see a massive frame land on the ground at my right three steps away from me. The dense masculine scent puffing from the crouching figure hits my nostrils like a whiplash.

  Another figure pops out from behind a tree trunk. Then two more. Their scents engulf me like a blanket. I can smell sweat, wind, resins. A wolf’s fur.

  I sweep my eyes over the four half-naked men surrounding me in animal-like positions. Their amber eyes framed by thick dark eyebrows bore through me. They are enormous—all muscle, all power and pure masculinity.

  I’ve never seen wolves, but the stories about them are true.

  They are primal like the high mountains.

  They are wild like the river bursting its banks.

  They are dangerous like my uncles.

  “I come in peace,” I say as my voice falters.

  They erupt into laughter that resembles the thunder tearing through the midnight sky.

  “A little half-breed,” one of them says. He has short black hair. “The rumours are true.”

  My heart pounds in my chest as they rise to their feet and come closer, sniffing, grinning. Their scents cause my mind to twirl.

  “I’m a half-elf, sir,” I say.

  Another wave of their laughter tears through the air.

  “A little half-elf with two little swords,” the wolf with short black hair says. He puts his palm on the back of his neck and sends me a beguiling smile. His perfect white teeth flash in the light filtering through the trees. “A pretty little half-elf.”
>
  “I’ve come to talk business,” I say and put my swords back into the scabbards.

  They’re not my enemies, and I want to be polite.

  The black-haired wolf moves even closer to me, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin to mine. His eyes narrow as his thick black eyebrows form a line. I see a scar on his cheek, a thick uneven line that wavers. Green flickers dance in his amber irises. He lowers his head and sniffs at my neck. His breath is like an exhale from a desert—hot and dangerous.

  I know this is how they are, but uneasiness sits on my chest anyway. The others kneel on one knee with one palm against the ground, their eyes fixed on me—predatory and assessing. I feel like I’m naked.

  “Are you their alpha, sir?” I squeak.

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he circles me, his body touching mine. His muscles are as hard as a rock. A sense of wrongness creeps inside me as he nuzzles his nose against my hair, my neck, my cheek. His breath brushes against my skin, scorching and unnerving. He stands opposite me—too close, invading my personal space entirely. He really is massive. It’s like a bear is leaning over a bird. Our glances meet. His eyes slide over my lips, his thick eyebrows giving his face a beast-like appearance. An urge of escaping stirs inside of me.

  I roll my fingers into fists. My surroundings waver then pulsate in rhythm of my heart. My mind screams to retreat—my feet are like two pieces of concrete. I take a deep breath and jerk my body back, but the wolf’s arms shoot towards me. He wraps them around me like the body of a python has entangled me. I can’t breathe. He turns me and my back rests against his chest. His hot mouth touches my ear.

  “Mine,” he growls.

  I’ve never heard anything more elemental than that growl. It touches the part of me I never expected to have—this is the primal part of me.

  The others howl like the wolves they are then they hoot, as an eerie energy surges through me. It’s as though the mystery of the universe has brushed me. For a split second, I’m endless and bright like the stars being born.

  My heartbeat speeds up, my skin burns, and my core pulses.

  My captor bends slightly, his palm pressed against my tummy. Then I feel his fingers move down, and he rubs two against my crotch. His massive erection digs into my ass even though he has jeans on and I have my trousers and cloak on.

  “Move away from her, motherfucker,” my grandpa roars behind us.