Zauran

by Poppet

  I'm going to kill Jowendrhan. None of my clothes fit, in less than a week. If Ryan wasn't built like a 'roided elephant I wouldn't even fit his shirt.

  Fat. I'm fucking fat and my blood is mercury.

  Thanks Jo, why don't you go fuck yourself you cowardly cocksucker.

  Sveta smiles at me from behind Ryan, as if he can hear me.

  I try to smile back but the effort is too difficult. Instead I just give him my, 'in another life I would have broken you' stare.

  “Is that better, Božena?” says the monster with mommy issues.

  Why point a gun at a pregnant woman Ryan? How fucked up are you?

  Is that better Božena? You know what would be better? You fucking off and letting me go back to a hotel room with room service, that would be better.

  You getting your motherfucking hands off me would be better.

  Screwing Sveta would be better!

  Fuck off you creep.

  “Yeah,” I grumble, staring back at the hateful hissing wall.

  Sveta make him leave, he pisses me off.

  Again, as if hearing me, Sveta pulls Ryan away, guiding him to the doorway and escorting him out.

  Now that's a man. He anticipates exactly what you need and delivers. When these babies pop out and I recover, I'm looking this guy up.

  Is that better? Yeah, now it's better 'cos you have fucked off out of my air Ryan!

  Sveta comes back, smiling at me, leaning closer to kiss my forehead again.

  He smells fantastic. Hot, sexy, spicy, good enough to lick and savor the sting all the way down. I like a man with bite and he looks like he's even got a growl hidden under that rusty-hued stubble.

  Drop and roll Sveta - you are on fire handsome.

  Fire. He's walking fire. Fire that desperately needs a haircut.

  Chapter 21

  Ryan:

  She's coming. It worked.

  The sweet subtle art of mental suggestion.

  So many assume neuri are physical warriors when what we really are, are mental warriors.

  Which is why we have the gifts of telepathy and compulsion.

  We're built like low level giants so that we'll appeal to leaders. Leaders have always required physical protection and our size makes us the obvious choice for that job.

  Then when we're close, we go into the mind of the tyrant and 'change his mind' for him.

  It's the subliminal art of mental warfare.

  We influence thought processes and change damaging patterns, we rework the way a brain works, the way an individual thinks, guiding them slowly and unobtrusively back to the path of peace to a place where they work for the greater Love rather than against it.

  Neuri are everywhere now. We are back and we are reclaiming our rightful place in society. World peace is in our grasp. The Warriors Against Tyranny are remolding all world leaders; in fact all leaders who operate from an ego base.

  We're so close now.

  Bodyguards have become guardians in disguise.

  Zaria's internal dialog and fascination with my home becomes more immediate. She's snared between curiosity and fear.

  I made sure she can't sleep and got up to find a kitchen, to meander off the route and end up here.

  Come closer anđeo, I promise I won't bite.

  *

  Zaria:

  Wandering into a dark room, faint sparkles of light draw me nearer. Curiosity incenses me as I sneak closer to the glow reflecting off the shadowed ceiling.

  It's a beacon calling to my soul, urging me forward.

  Holding my breath, quiet, I tiptoe carefully to see past a big silhouetted object.

  Awestruck, I stare into the turquoise of an enormous rock pool. Motes of light squiggle through the water, illuminating it into aegean glory, sending rainbows into the liquid to other glowing particles. They're like water lightning bugs and firefly squid.

  They're tiny, miniscule, but so bright they're shining beams through the water to refract onto the ceiling. It reminds me of ultraviolet light shone deep underwater at luminous jellyfish and other tropical creatures.

  Frozen, I'm spellbound by the vision before me. Ryan is floating in the middle of the pool lit from within with these embers of light, and he's glowing.

  Tyrian bleeds away from his body into the water, swirling into it like smoke, while his skin and eyes hold a feral glow of the amethyst haze I've witnessed in his eyes.

  How does he do that?

  Twisting, he swims lazily to the edge, flips over and drifts back to the center. His muscles glisten with fluid as if oiled and his black hair fans out like a sooty halo around his head.

  I've never seen anything so beautiful.

  It's a pool full of shooting stars and shimmering prayers, iridescent and magical. Ryan is a celestial dream floating in a nebulae of a million hues.

  “I see you've discovered my haven,” he says to the shimmering ceiling in the vibrato baritone that defrosts my blood.

  Too ashamed to speak, caught spying, my mouth dry and my insides tense, I wait to see if he's really speaking to me.

  Standing abruptly, the water only waist deep on him, he looks directly at me. “I can hear your thoughts, Zaria. They announce your presence.”

  He's so majestic standing there, lit from below and draped in splendor from the flattering ambiance. His skin is luminescent and his eyes are pouring out that bright vapor. If humans could see him they'd never forget a neuri. Not ever.

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, burning my neck and making me feel like a disgraceful Peeping Tom.

  “This is beautiful,” I manage to mumble, indicating the rock pool.

  He extends an arm, offering me his upturned hand, “Come.”

  Shaking my head to indicate the negative, I retreat a step, deeper into shadow.

  “Let me teach you about light, Zaria. You have no one to show you and it calls to your spirit. It claws at your soul.”

  It's true, I have a desperation growing in me the longer I stand here. It looks so glorious and serene in there. It's enticing and ethereal.

  Pulling himself out in one graceful motion, he stands closer with his skin emanating a soft candescence. It makes me itch to touch him.

  He takes another step nearer to me, now we're barely a foot apart, and I simply refuse to meet his eyes for fear of compulsion. His thrall is domination which is both welcome and resented, so I'm avoiding it.

  Stuck staring at his defined chest and stomach, nerves grow in my belly, weakening my legs. The heathery gleam off his skin has a smell which is accosting me on every level of my being. It vandalizes my common sense and is strongly redolent with power and seduction.

  I could never describe this smell, except to say that it is fresh, clean, new, with a hint of sandalwood spice, a dash of crushed raspberry, and charisma mingled with lightning.

  Avoiding his gaze means staring at his immaculate body which I've just noticed is very unusual. His navel is heart shaped.

  It mirrors his build. The contour of his torso is the same shape, wide and perfect, tapering to slender hips. The muscles above his collarbones are the crescents of the heart, and the muscles of his lats running down behind his ribs to his waist create the perfect curved sides.

  My god, he's heart shaped!

  He offers me his hand again, holding it between us in invitation.

  Come anđeo, trust me.

  Anđeo? I'm no angel Ryan, I think back.

  “Let me show you,” he whispers.

  His voice is a symphony which melts resistance.

  Tired of the struggle, worn down, I nod, accepting the offer.

  His grasp is warm, firm, taking my hand and leading me to rose quartz steps, guiding me into balmy water.

  The second my feet immerse in the radiant liquid, my skin begins to feel as if it's fizzing. It's effervescent, thrumming up into me with such overwhelming joy.

  It's a pool of happiness. Glowing, shining... elation.

  Like you, he smiles down at me.

>   Pulling me deeper so I lose footing, his palms come up to support me, balancing my body across his hands as if I'm a babe, or a sacrifice.

  Close your eyes and just feel it, Ryan says in a tranquil tone.

  It's soothing and lulls me into a dreamy trancelike zone.

  The light specks pop on my skin like guppy kisses. Every pop leaves a zing behind which buzzes into me, giving me the sensation of being excited, as if anticipating a wonderful moment.

  Shutting my eyes, I float, held safe in his hands, daring to trust my nemesis.

  It's sublime; a salve which penetrates the mind and the soul, the spirit and the flesh, filling me up with resplendent euphoria.

  *

  Ryan:

  Finally she is here, in my hands, inside the truth-tank.

  The light coalesces around her, communing with her soul and revealing her spiritual colors to me. The black shirt floats up from her body, billowing away from orchid pale legs. Diaphanous rainbows slick her skin with a polished gloss and her colors are drawn out, exposing her inner secrets to me.

  Her light is cherry blossom pink, it seeps out of her into the water, coding her essence into the true-light-tank. The light inside each of us, placed there by Spirit, we call Plyx. It's the matrix of life, of potential, it is the umbilical cord to the universe and all creation.

  Staring at hers, drawn to the gentle baby pink that exposes her heart to me, my veins begin to throb with ache.

  Her light is the color of heart. She's right, I am a heart, the heart of the neuri nation. I beat the pulse which strengthens us and keeps us going, keeping us alive, giving us purpose. But her light is the heart-hue of love. Pure unmarred love. The kind we all dream of, hope for, live for... It's a chakra color, usually found in humans only over the heart.

  Tracing my focus over the swell of her breast, down the barely revealed stomach to her navel, the gentle jade green of her belly seizes my breath. Zauran is there, waiting to grow, waiting to bond them forever. His soft aquamarine-green and her pink Plyx make her seem like a living, breathing, body of watermelon tourmaline.

  The pale pink is overpowering and yearning is getting the better of me.

  Glancing back at long feathered lashes closed to rest on her skin, I break my personal oath, taking over her mind and suppressing her ability to respond.

  Sending her deep into the dream, deep into the light where movement and physical life no longer exist, I push her into the haven of pure spirit, submersing her consciousness chasms deep inside Plyx.

  Forgive me, I just need to taste. Just this once.

  Bending closer, parting my lips, I breathe in the light swirling from her face, from her sensual mouth, tracking the glow down her body, gorging on the wisps of her spirit.

  Inhaling her through my mouth, I spiral her body where it floats suspended in my palms. Tasting every limb, every shape and curve, I'm giddy with her potent Plyx.

  She is incredible. Pure and perfect.

  My body reacts, pumping my veins out as my breathing grows ragged and desperate from her bouquet. The cocktail of her smell and taste is ambrosia on my palate, burning my eyes with the vision of vivid energy.

  The world recedes so it becomes the realm of pure energy and I lean in to where the pink glow is brightest, kissing it, licking it, letting it siphon into my veins, soul, eyes, heart.

  My god, what a magnificent creature you are.

  It takes a mammoth effort to break the spell, to withdraw and cast my eyes back into human vision, shocking myself into immediate guilt.

  It's instinctive to thrust her mind deeper into the Plyx of the universe, hiding my depraved behavior from her.

  But now that I'm here, it won't hurt to have a little nibble. Just a quick taste. Watching her face for any reflex or reaction, I slowly run my tongue into her, my entire body pulsating in a vibrant throb as she remains motionless inside the bliss.

  Closing my eyes, I drink in the elixir of her power, the taste of her essence, the deepest treasure of her existence. It slides over my tongue like a string of pearls slipping down a wave of satin.

  Powder soft wonder sends electricity into my tongue, sparking synapses right through my body, the frisson giving me a violent shiver.

  Delving deeper, my body reacts, bursting light out of me, blasting the room and the pool with the prism of purity. I am undone, resting my cheek on her concave stomach, kissing her skin, the two of us encapsulated in a rainbow bubble of divinity.

  Gulping to regain my self-control, I run a finger inside her, marveling at how juicy she is. Supporting her pelvis up out of the water, I trace the delicate skin with reverence, widening her again so I can appreciate the passage of masculine worship.

  I wish with every spark of my being that I could bury myself in there, deep, to feel her all around me, covering me, to experience the silkiness of her thighs hard up against my hips.

  Coaxing her with my fingers, her gasp of pleasure gives me a smile.

  I'm getting another raging hard on, and I indulge, sliding two fingers in and rotating a gentle thumb on her arousal. I'm amazed when light bursts out of her, hot and wild, spinning away, staining into me, sinking through my skin, decapitating my ability to breathe.

  I do it again, just to watch the way her Plyx behaves, smells, feels.

  My thighs are shaking, my bones weakening, I want to collapse on my knees and adore her. I want to hold her down and kiss every perfect tight pore on her flawless body.

  I want to hide inside her and never leave.

  I'm not the envious type, but I'm hoping Zauran is dead. This Slakax is the only woman to ever capture my attention and hold it. Her resistance makes me crave her even more.

  Entranced, I watch her light spasm into my hand; it wraps over my skin and dissolves into me.

  Her pleasure smells like sun-warmed mallow, and I crack, unable to hold my reaction in check, slicing the silence with another muffled moan of orgasm.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

  Snatching my hand out of her, my vision blurred with purple passion, I peer into the shadows beside the pool.

  Fuck!

  Chapter 22

  Aisyx:

  “R.y.a.n,” I say in warning.

  “She needed the light. She needed it,” he snaps, pulling his black shirt back down to cover her body from my view.

  “You have her so deeply under your dominance she can't object. Look at her! She's full of Zauran's light mixed with her own. You sick bastard!”

  He's at least wearing swimming trunks. It could be worse. It's tempting to see a woman wearing your clothes, I know, but still - what the hell was he thinking?

  “What do you want Aisyx?” he snarls, his voice deepening and fracturing, anger turning his eyes into indigo moonbeams.

  Distracted by her Plyx communing with the spirit lights in the pool, I mention, “They match. Zauran's green is the color of the heart chakra. So is her pink. Face it Ryan, those two are meant to be together.”

  “Then where the fuck is he?” he glowers, lifting her out of the pool and carrying her to the huge clamshell couch.

  Now she looks like a mermaid rescued from the ocean. Lights continue to twinkle across her skin and in her hair, tempting anyone with a pulse to caress her serene face with a tender touch. She's hard to resist that one. Very.

  Damn it, I want my own woman!

  Ryan obviously caved after having spent so much time in isolation with Zaria, she's captivating. Her gentle soul is plain to see, even without Plyx cascading out of her to haze her toned legs with comforting pink.

  It suits her.

  Snapping my focus back to the deceitful slimeball, I say, “Božena's in trouble. Sveta sent me to you for help.”

  Ryan indicates the pool, “Go get her and put her in here. There's enough healing in this tank to save her.”

  That's damn good thinking. Fuck, sometimes we can be so thick in a crisis.

  *

  Ryan:

  Sveta launc
hes into the grotto beneath the kitchen, carrying Božena.

  She is in trouble, I can hear her struggle to breathe from here.

  Glancing back at Zaria, whom I pulled back to the lucid surface just enough so that she'll wake naturally in a few minutes, I'm pleased to see neither of us still emanate the telltale flares of carnal indulgence.

  My brothers tease me for my old fashioned manner of speaking, but I'm most comfortable as the sovereign I once was.

  I miss dressing well, living in a manner befitting royalty; it's why I still stay here despite having the villa in Italy.

  This residence will always be my first love. This is my home.

  My customs will never be modern no matter how hard I try to blend in.

  Walking to the crystal ledge, I help Sveta lower Božena into the water.

  “Christ!” I say in shock.

  I've never seen anything like this, ever.

  Hopping into the water to support her, I look at Sveta's flammable eyes when I announce, “She's darklight.”

  He nods, “I suspected as much.”

  While I'm watching, the glowing particles in the water flee from her body. Instead of swimming toward her to bond and fraternize, they are boycotting this end of the pool, leaving it dark with shadow, unwilling to touch her.

  “Shit.” Now what do we do with this woman? She needs a fucking vampyre to save her. “Get her out!” I order Sveta, lifting her up for him to take.

  This will just damage her further.

  He hauls the heavily pregnant woman out, fear visiting his expression as he stares at me in desperation.

  “Aisyx, come here,” I snap, helping Sveta lay the woman down on her side to ease her breathing.

  He's beside me in an instant.

  Giving him my 'eat shit' smile, I say, “You're half vampyre. You can help her.”

  “How?” He looks from me, to Božena, and back again.

  God, I live with halfwits and idiots.

  Snatching his arms, gripping his wrists, I guide his hands to the pearl buttons marching a line over her abdomen on my mafia black shirt.