Zauran

by Poppet

  I love that description Zaria gave my taste in attire.

  Focus! warns Sveta, glaring at me. I immediately shut him out. I have dominion here and none of my subjects have the right to infiltrate my mind with demands.

  “Concentrate on energy from your heart, pull affection out of your chest, feel it flow down your arms and out your hands. Just try it for fuck's sake!” I say to Aisyx.

  His fingers tremble when he touches her body, inhaling dramatically.

  Examining her face, I know we're in deep shit with this one. She's clutching to life, barely.

  Fuck it.

  Standing, I move behind Aisyx, holding his shoulders and taking over his mind to do it for him. We don't have time to squander.

  Forcing energy from him into Zena, I feel the change. She inhales sharply as if it's the first breath after holding it in for hours. Pumping his Plyx into her, I send it to her womb, to her children that are sucking out her life for their own, steering the energy to her heart, her brain, then tracing it across her veins and into her nervous system.

  Opening my eyes, I'm fascinated to see Aisyx's hands glowing black. Jesus!

  Black!

  This night goes down in history.

  And look at her! Zena's Plyx is red. Bright chili red. It responds to Aisyx, hovering out of her body to cover his fingers.

  A lover's caress. Her spirit thanks him.

  Snapping my focus to Sveta, it hits me. His Plyx is orange, hers is red. Again, the two are perfectly matched. Their strengths are so closely matched they fit together like puzzle pieces.

  Well isn't this just peachy. My brothers have found the perfect mates to compliment them, to find solace and comfort and utterly precise companionship. They couldn't be better suited spiritually if they'd been cast into constellations together.

  That means I have only one who could be my match, and I've hardly said two words to her. She goes home in the morning.

  Bother and fucking damn!

  *

  Zaria:

  Comfy.

  Mmmm.

  I wish they'd hush so I can sleep.

  It's with reluctance that I finally open my eyes to witness Sveta and Ryan lifting Božena out of the cosmic pool.

  Her skin is translucent, her veins look like grotesque scars under her skin. It gives her a wicked aura.

  Turned onto her side, her eyes open and she stares at me.

  She looks so evil with the light from the pool filtering off her face, her skin is so watery and deathly, and her eyes are now a vivid Polar-blue.

  She's turning into a vampyre so completely and it doesn't suit her at all.

  Cripes, just looking at her scares my hackles into rising.

  Looking away, sitting up but still feeling lethargic and weak, I watch Ryan take over, forcing Aisyx to help Zena.

  Her body responds with light on his hands, and his hands flow black vapor over her, into her.

  It's like watching smoke twirl lazily into a sky thick with blanketing white cloud. That amazes me. He's blond with blue eyes and yet his essence is black. It contradicts his looks and demeanor.

  Ryan glances at me with his eyes glossed with magenta poison. My body responds with instant heat, my veins humming as if in recognition of his power.

  Sveta stands to his side, long teeth extended over his lip with worry. It's an unguarded moment when he is pure neuri.

  His eyes verily burn bright with bourbon fire, it licks over his eyelashes and up into his hair. He's naturally pale, but now he looks like he's pumped weights for the last hour, defining every exposed muscle I can see, cording his arms and neck with thick veins, every masculine thing which comprises him is protruding in stark strength.

  He really digs Božena.

  For his sake I hope she's gonna be okay.

  I don't know how it will work, a neuri and a vampyre, but I guess Aisyx is living proof of it.

  Oh yeah, well I guess Sveta has to duel Aisyx for Božena's affection.

  Flicking my focus back to her, I'm confounded. She's gone back to normal. Her skin is no longer milky and opaque, her eyes are back to midnight blue.

  Freaky.

  This is all just freaky.

  Looking away, the twinkling pull of the pool beckons to me. Stars float and swim in the crystalline pond; the rocks are quartz and clear and gleaming like jewels at the edges.

  There's so much comfort and pleasure in there.

  I must thank Ryan. I'm pleased he convinced me to try the pool of lights, because it's healed me in places no one can see but I can certainly feel.

  The fear, the tension, the worry, the ache, has all vanished.

  I know with the intuition embedded in me that Zauran is going to be okay. He'll be back to kiss me.

  I guess I misjudged Ryan after all. He's a good guy hiding masquerading as an egocentric asshole.

  Staring back their way, both Aisyx and Ryan are looking at me as if I said that out loud.

  Oh cripes! I didn't, did I?

  The familiar heat of a blush rides up to my cheeks and I fidget, unable to look away from Aisyx's accusing stare and Ryan's beautiful smile.

  Chapter 23

  Zaria:

  Tonight is my last night in this opulent bed, and I'm so relieved.

  Traipsing over the thick pile of the cream carpet, I note the fresh black shirt waiting on the bed for me.

  He's thoughtful, he really is.

  I haven't seen any help, so I assume it's Ryan who manages to ghost in and out of the rooms being the magick elf to keep everything orderly.

  The en-suite bathroom comes standard with extra goodies. It's like a hotel with the little soaps and miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner and fairy sized tubes of toothpaste.

  It was exciting unwrapping the toothbrush from the pink cellophane wrapper for the first time, and sampling everything.

  He's nothing like Zauran. Zauran is earthy and practical, he's simple in his tastes and style. But Ryan obviously enjoys the finer things in life.

  My room has a drawer full of gold wrapped chocolates, a pile of silk bound books on the cherry wood bedside table, and wisteria scented candles in the candelabra.

  The lamp where I sleep is tasseled and looks downy soft, but I haven't had the courage to touch it. Everything seems so antique and expensive I'm afraid I'll break something.

  Padding to the bathroom, I absorb the vanilla smell of the sandstone room. It's spacious and luxurious, and I am out of my comfort zone every time I come in here.

  Ignoring the gleaming bath large enough for three and the wide open shower encrusted with mother-of-pearl mosaic, I move to the basin and dutifully brush my teeth.

  It's strange that I haven't located any light switches. The lights just fade out when I climb into bed and close my eyes. It's the weirdest thing.

  Unbuttoning his still damp huge shirt, I hang it up on the shower faucet; it reawakens too many memories.

  He has arms like Zauran. Soft hair lines his forearms to the elbow and every time he rolls the cuffs up to his elbows I notice it. I think black shirts will forever remind me of Ryan and this strange home.

  Tired, cupping a yawn, I meander to the bed, moving the clean shirt and placing it on the velvet ottoman where my freshly laundered jeans wait for the morning.

  I've given up wearing my boots, it seems pointless, and there is zero way I'm asking to wear his socks. That would be uncomfortably intimate.

  No way.

  What's that?

  Moving retrograde back to where the shirt was placed on the silk divan, I stare at a parchment envelope. Picking it up, I sniff it.

  Sandalwood with the sweetness of raspberries, and electricity.

  It must be Ryan's stationery.

  Looking at the weighted thick envelope, it's slightly waxy and has that tea-stained manuscript appearance to the paper.

  Sitting down on the end of the bed and tucking my leg underneath me, I examine the thick black penmanship and the flourishing style of the fou
ntain pen where my name is written.

  Suddenly anxious, I turn it over and stare at a deeply purple wax seal securing it shut. It's a filigree heart.

  I don't want to break it, it's too pretty.

  Being my retarded self, I fiddle with the edge of the envelope, picking at the corner until I get the side open enough to tear the paper open with my nail.

  Flopping back, stretching my legs, I open the letter.

  My dearest Zaria

  Thank you for being my guest. I apologize for any discomfort you may have experienced whilst in my care, but know it is with my deepest sincerity that I say it has been an honor to become acquainted with you.

  You have brought a vibrant energy into my home which it has sorely missed, and it will be so much poorer when you leave on the morrow.

  Wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv.

  Forever Yours

  Ryan Kasun

  Neuri King

  Aw! This is so thoughtful and sweet!

  It's so unexpected from tough Ryan. He's indomitable and guarded. He's unpredictable and cruel. Today he's been like Sveta, exposing the vulnerable underside to that villain exterior.

  The way he took over to save Božena and the way he invited me into the light... the coffee earlier... sigh.

  Who is Ryan? Is he the warden with the black heart, or is he this person? Or is he both?

  He shot his brother for heaven's sake. He's both. He's a king, a neuri warrior, but he's Slakax too. Wow, that must be hell to live with for so long, being an immortal and all.

  A long desperate sigh exhales out of me.

  Lifting the letter to the light, I spy the watermark in the heavy page. It's a crest of a heart split into three like the peace sign, the edges curled and graceful, just like his handwriting.

  Neuri king. That does sound official. That must be why his stationery is so fancy... it would also explain the royal color of his neuri mojo. The purple that flows out of him is that perfect combination of puce and indigo, and the best way to describe it is royal. He often looks like he owns the essence of a morning glory flower with deep indigo, amethyst, and tyrian, all billowing together. Maybe that's also where the combination of smells comes from?

  I wonder what “wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv” means.

  It's a language that is impossible to pronounce in my head. Even when Zauran spoke it I struggled to capture the syllables and sibilance.

  Enough.

  Sitting up, I place it on the bedside table with a decisive thunk, smiling to myself again at his incredible thoughtfulness.

  He actually thanked me for staying here and I have to be the most ungracious guest he's ever had.

  Okay scratch that, Božena probably is. I heard her tell him to fuck off the other day on my way to the kitchen.

  I don't believe she's my sister, not for one second. There's something bad in her heart. I don't like her and it's instinctive. But then I didn't like Sveta either and he's related to Zauran.

  Hang on... Why did a paper envelope and page thunk like that?

  Retrieving it, I squeeze the envelope into an oval, peeking inside.

  Oooh!

  Fishing my finger in, I unhook a metal object, turning the envelope on end and shaking to get it to drop out.

  A gorgeous key falls out to glisten wicked temptation at me from the luxuriant linen. Leaving the envelope and letter on the table again, I fiddle with the key, turning it over as if it would bite.

  It's breathtaking.

  The head is a triple segmented heart, each segment a different gem. It splits the heart into three hearts conjoined like a clover, separated with a pink-gold type metal. Touching it, I trace the purple pearl ridge, then the black opal, and then the garnet.

  It looks ancient. The key is obviously priceless, and so intriguing.

  Picking it up I hold it to my heart, knowing deep inside this is precious, very.

  What does it mean?

  Ryan?

  Where are you? What riddle is this?

  Oh to heck with it. I'm tired.

  Tugging back the puffy divan I crawl between the ivory silk sheets, reveling in the sensation of the sheen against my naked skin.

  So this is how the other half lives.

  Tucking my hand under the pillow, still holding the key, I feel oddly cherished and cosseted.

  Thinking back to the pool of blissful secrets, I sink deeply back into that comforting light, bathed and saturated with gossamer love.

  Clouds of warmth wrap around me and I flow away on a ribbon of evanescence.

  *

  Ryan:

  I'm sucked in by her gravity and I just can't help it.

  Hidden in deep shadows I watch her from beyond the doorway. She believes she's alone in this wing, and without clothing with her she's chosen to sleep naked despite having a shirt placed out for her.

  Standing here, I listen to her internal dialog. Women chatter mentally. I find it delightful.

  My home is a lavish but silent cage. Day in and day out I listen to nothing but the energy of the stone.

  Zaria changed that, and I'm fascinated.

  She's right about Božena. Zaria doesn't understand the concept of darklight. They have dark urges. Their pleasure is often combined with pain, and they thrive on it.

  The lights switch off when I fade them off. I stand guard until she's asleep. I stand guard while she sleeps.

  There's no explaining how protective I feel over her. I worry the second I turn my back whomever attacked Zauran will come after her. He's gone and it's my duty to keep her and those babies safe.

  Emotion prickles my eyes, and it's utterly alien.

  How can one person turn your world upside down by simply being themselves?

  She's graceful, a wonder, sexy and demure. Her eyes are deep and mysterious, shrouding the imp I know is present in her character.

  Her loves are simple and uncomplicated. She is uncomplicated. That is so refreshing in so many ways. It's also appealing and delectable when packaged in a body that poetic. She sparks prose on the tongue while she ignites blood.

  I'm not ashamed of what I did. What is a worse punishment, to have it in your hands and never indulge, or to know how indelible her soul is so that you can treasure it for the rest of a life?

  I'm better off knowing. It equips me.

  It arms me with knowledge on how to approach her, the knowledge of her essence means I have an intricate understanding of her soul and how to appeal to it and protect it from harm. It also means no one will ever get close to her again as long as I'm alive. I've seen the pain in her heart from the death of her brother, from her parents dying so young, to Darise even - who is the last of a long line of boyfriends to betray her trust.

  Why take Zauran when men like Darise walk this earth?

  God damn I'd like to know where he is and why anyone would attack him.

  She pines for him. She paints my home with her tears and when her heart breaks and the pain bleeds out, I feel it. I taste it.

  Her breathing is deep and relaxed now, so I walk over the carpet which hides footfalls, to stand over her, looking down at the woman with hair of black silk and skin of sun-kissed luster.

  So softly I brush her forehead with a kiss goodnight, switching off the light and returning to inhale her natural perfume.

  The fact that she chose to sleep holding the key of destiny warms my blood. With that key she is ordained. Now she will always be protected by the neuri nation and what happened to Božena will never happen to her. It's a mantle of power that wards off all others but neuri.

  It's also the key to the kingdom, she has free passage. Both her and her children will be treated as sovereigns. If Zauran comes back he can consider it a promotion. If he doesn't, at least I know she will always be safe, from every threat and hardship, no matter what happens to me. This is the fail-safe.

  My power is now hers to use and abuse as she sees fit.


  The abuse bit sounds far too appealing right now.

  Biting my cheek, I clamp down on the train of thought, staring down on the enrapturing Slakax.

  You wonder what wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv means.

  It means my little angel, my anđeo... Thank you for every precious moment, I shall treasure them always.

  Always Zaria.

  Always is a very long time.

  I leave her to her rest with reluctance, moving silently back to the passageway, keeping her safe... from a distance.

  I am sentenced to adore her from this accursed distance.

  Zauran either come back and claim your mate, or set her free.

  I am bewitched and it's eating through me.

  Unable to rest, sleep, eat... she's the holograph of Plyx that plays over and over through my thoughts until she fills them again with her incessant internal chatter.

  Like a sunbird.

  This one must always be free.

  By the ring on my hand and the heart of my navel, no one shall cage her again. Doing it to her this once is sufferance enough.

  Chapter 24

  Zaria:

  I inhale liberation while I stand on the lawn waiting for the others to join me, enjoying this high view of the Sava river.

  The sun is shy today, hidden behind angel wing clouds, but I do not care because I can breathe out here. Twisting, I look back at the facade of his residence.

  Insignificant, instantly forgettable, it blends into the surrounding neighborhood; convincing, it conceals the hidden catacomb it is as it burrows deep into the mountain on which the veneer stands.

  Shoving hands into my jean pockets I peruse the street, and a familiar fragrance assails me. Gaje. It is the scent of a sacred grove. It is the smell of Venix.

  Excitement explodes through me and I whip with the wind, searching the trees and shadows for the angel. Twinkling stars across the road in a wooded stand of evergreens catch my attention.

  Venix?

  He steps out of the shade, holding his arms out to me, inviting me to run in for a hug with his eyes glowing brighter like two suns brought to warm my soul.