The Shadow Enforcer: The Shadow Enforcer Series Book One

by N M Thorn

  “Fine,” she said faintly as his hand progressed up her thigh. “But before I let you go, I want to explore how willing of a sex-accomplice you truly are.” She smiled and waved her hand at him. “Rise.”

  Cole got up and rolled his shoulders, flexing his well-defined muscles. A soft hiss escaped her lips as her eyes traveled up and down his tall, lean body.

  “Your pants,” she said quietly, but even her whisper sounded like a harsh order, “off.”

  Cole pulled down the zipper and let his pants slide down his narrow hips slowly. She leaned back a little and flicked her wrist.

  “Everything—off...”

  He smiled coldly but complied with her demand. Straightening, he gazed down at her as she observed him as if he was one of the statues decorating her gardens.

  “You reminded me of him,” she murmured wistfully, rising. “Just as proud... just as perfect.” She moved her hands along his sides, down to his hips, slipping to his behind. “If not for that resemblance, by now, I would’ve probably killed you many times over for your disobedience and insolent behavior. Would be a shame though... You know how to please me better than anyone...”

  “Remind you of whom?” he asked, closing his eyes for a moment as she proceeded exploring his body shamelessly.

  “I prefer you silent,” she replied and closed his mouth with her kiss.

  Chapter 14

  ~ Damian Blake ~

  It was well past midnight when Damian finally settled in his new room. Over the years, he had gotten used to a life on the road with fleabag motels, flimsy beds that nearly broke under his weight, and questionably looking showers. So, to him, the spacious master bedroom River had set up for him seemed better than any luxury suite of a five-star hotel. It had a direct entrance into the pool area which led to the home gym and exercise center. The pool deck had a backdoor, leading to the outside of the Paradise Manor property into the desert, and he could take a midnight run toward the purple mountain any time he wished without the need to cross the entire right wing of the house.

  Damian put his black tank top and sports pants on, ready to go out to check the house, but a careful knock on the door stopped him in his tracks.

  “Come in,” he said, heading toward the door.

  River walked inside, almost running into him, and chuckled. “I was hoping I would catch you here before you leave for”—a guilty smile crossed her face—“whatever it is you do here at night.”

  “What can I do for you, ma’am?” he asked, gazing down at her with curiosity.

  “It’s River. Please call me by my name,” she said quietly. “I thought we passed that official, military-like form of communication.” She glanced to the side, a vibe of discomfort around her getting heavier. “Listen, Day... Damian... Why don’t you take a break from your guard’s duty tonight? From what I understand, you didn’t sleep for twenty-four hours straight already. Because of me.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t,” he objected softly. “At least, I shouldn’t.”

  “As my personal bodyguard, you’re no good to me if you’re falling off your feet because of sleep deprivation.” She sighed, and her expression closed up. “I promised I was not going to boss you around, but this one time... As your employer, I am giving you this night off. You’ll start your work tomorrow.” She tapped his arm and smirked. “Nothing is going to happen in those few hours. Get some sleep, soldier. You look like you’re at the end of your rope.”

  Before he could object, she pivoted on her heels and left the room. For a moment, he stared at the closed door. Then he turned around and headed back to the bed where he collapsed without taking his clothes off. He knew he was tired, but until he assumed a horizontal position, he had no idea how truly worn out he was. His every muscle was sore, and his legs buzzed with exhaustion. He kicked his sneakers off, took the socks off and grabbed one of the pillows, wrapping his arms around it as he turned on his stomach.

  A noise coming from behind his door woke him up with a start. Damian jolted to his feet, his pillows and blanket falling to the floor in his wake. The door was shaking as something scratched and tore at it. Still dazed, he rubbed his face, shaking off the last shreds of sleep.

  “Wake up! Waaaakeee uuuup!”

  The words sounded in his mind, and it took him a moment to realize it was Gypsy scratching at the door vigorously, trying to wake him up.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, heading toward the exit as he noticed a furry paw reaching through the narrow space between the door and the floor. He opened it and saw the cat, her fur standing on her back, her tail tripled in size.

  “Finally!” she squealed furiously, the sound of her voice in his mind giving him a throbbing headache.

  “Gypsy,” he hissed. “Don’t you know how to meow anymore? Why are you waking me up, screeching in my head like nails on a chalkboard!”

  The cat hopped in place, swinging at his bare feet with her paw, her claws extended. “You’re the worst Child of Earth I’ve ever met! I understand you don’t have the second sight, but do you have your other senses! Or brain, for that matter?”

  “Shut up!” snapped Damian and closed his eyes, sharpening his other senses as he channeled his magic.

  The fluctuation in the magical energy field was so insignificant that he could barely detect it. From the moment his powers had been partially stripped, he had never been able to trust his senses completely, so he had learned to trust his intuition. And since right now it was throwing one red flag after the other, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Without saying another word, he walked out into the hallway and ran toward River’s room, his bare feet stepping softly on the carpet. Her room was only a few yards away, but the spikes in the energy field noticeably increased, becoming more and more prominent the closer he got there.

  Damian halted in front of her door and closed his eyes, placing his palms against it. He checked the area inside her room for dark energy, but since he didn’t detect anything troubling, he removed his hands and channeled more of his magic.

  “Praecidio Amnia,” he whispered, placing the protection spell over River’s room. He thought for a moment and channeled the energy of Earth, entwining it with his magic. Quickly, he drew four glowing orange runes at each corner of the door and whispered the second spell, reinforcing the protection. For a heartbeat, the runes lit up brighter and then disappeared.

  The spikes in the magical energy became faster and stronger, and a wave of cold air rushed through the hallway, coming from the main foyer. Gypsy hissed, pressing her side to his leg.

  “That can’t be good,” he muttered and took off running toward the epicenter of magical disturbance.

  The closer he got to the foyer, the colder it became. Now, he could feel the dark magical energy flowing through the walls, floor and ceiling, wrapping around him, burning his skin with its icy touch. He stopped a few feet away from the foyer and channeled as much of the elemental energy as he could safely hold in his body. Taking a step forward, the floor trembled under his feet, but at this point, he didn’t care if someone would detect a seismic disturbance in the Arizona desert.

  Like in some gut-wrenching nightmare, the walls of the house flexed and shuddered soundlessly. A strange wave moved through the drywall, making them sway, gathering closer around him. He swallowed hard, feeling the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. The darkness grew heavier, becoming almost tangible, and the temperature dropped lower, making him shiver.

  The dark magical energy invaded all his senses at once, suffocating and immobilizing him with its powerful presence. He groaned, pressed the back of his hand over his mouth, and moved forward, fighting the resistance of dark energy. The ground shook, responding to his every move. The walls and the ceiling kept moving and grinding as the dark magical presence intensified further.

  As soon as he crossed into the foyer, the frosty winter blizzard hit him with full force. He leaned forward against the overwhelming wind and raised his arm to
shield his eyes but could see nothing through the rotating particles of ice. Taking another step forward, he slipped on the ice covering the floor and almost fell, barely able to maintain his balance. Something sharp bit into the bare soles of his feet, but he had no time to check what it was.

  Loud whispers filled the foyer, coming from every direction at once. Someone called his name, laughing and mocking him. Someone who wasn’t supposed to be here ordered him to leave, and with shock, he realized that he wanted nothing more than to obey this nagging voice.

  His eyes closed of their own volition, and he felt something cold and hard squeezing his head, wrapping tightly around his forehead like a heavy, metal hoop. The surroundings shimmered and changed. He was no longer in Paradise Manor. Down on his knees, he found himself in the middle of a dark forest, a woman lying on his lap. Her pale face relaxed as her wide-open eyes stared into eternity, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

  No, not again... I don’t want—

  As an unbearable pain squeezed his heart, Damian struggled to get up, but he couldn’t make a move. Nothing was holding him, yet his body refused to obey him.

  “Damian...” A soft whisper echoed through the dark woods, painfully reverberating in his head. It swirled within him, enthralling his mind and controlling his weakened body. “I know you want to know who killed her. You want vengeance. I can help you. I have what you want. All you need to do is leave Paradise Manor and never come back. Say yes, Child of Earth, and I’ll give you the information you’ve been seeking for centuries. Just say, yesssss...”

  Damian lowered his head, struggling against the hold of the dark magic. “No,” he growled through clenched teeth, and the surroundings swirled around him, changing again. He was back in Paradise Manor.

  The wind howled, and a powerful impact in his chest sent him flying across the foyer. He hit the wall with his back. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet, pressing his back against the wall. Feeling his way around with his hand, he realized he was standing by the mirror. A new presence, cold but somehow friendly, touched his stretched senses, calling to him.

  Supporting himself against the foyer table, he turned around. A dim light emanating from the silver mirror illuminated a tiny area in front of him. Even though the surface of the mirror was covered in frost, instead of his own reflection, he could see the dark shape of a woman with long, flowing hair behind the glass. She was screaming something, but he couldn’t hear anything through the earsplitting hiss of the whispers. The woman threw her hands up and then pointed toward the left wing of the house.

  Fighting the effects of the dark spell, he raised his arm and one of his daggers materialized in his hand.

  “Illucious,” he shouted, but his voice came out in a hoarse whisper, his teeth chattering. A bright ray of light erupted from the blade. It cut through the darkness, illuminating the room and pushing the blizzard away from him.

  Now, he could see the wall with the piece of plywood blocking the entrance into the left wing. The entire surface of the wall was covered in ice and snow, the blizzard beating mercilessly against it.

  “Latentius revelare,” whispered Damian, fighting the wind as he made his way to the plywood. Through the prism of his spell, he could see the protective rune blazing with the bright light of its magic, but the frost was creeping up closer and closer. The plywood cracked under the assault of the freezing temperature, and with horror, Damian watched the fracture growing longer, moving closer to the rune.

  “No,” he roared. His dagger vanished, leaving him in darkness once more. He placed both hands against the icy surface of the barrier and leaned against it, the muscles on his arms and back bulging with the strain. The cold slithered through him, making his joints ache, but he ignored the pain. Gathering all the magic, elemental power and physical strength he had in his half-frozen body, he shouted, “Calidarius.”

  A wave of heat spread around his hands, quickly de-icing the plywood. Once the frost was gone, he turned around, pressing his back against the barrier, and both daggers materialized in his hands. Calling to his magic, the blades in his hands lit up with the unbearable brightness of the energy of Creation. The darkness hissed and retreated, shattering into dirty gray flakes that dissipated before touching the ground.

  He groaned and slid to the floor, which no longer was covered in ice. The temperature started to rise slowly, but he couldn’t stop shivering, his teeth chattering. He let go of his magic, and his daggers vanished, but his stiff fingers kept shaking uncontrollably. The light of the moon reached into the foyer, and he noticed that his feet were bleeding, most likely cut by ice. He could feel no pain, but at this moment, he was too drained and cold to worry about it. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep.

  “Child of Earth, open your eyes!” An unwelcome high-pitched voice sounded in his frazzled mind. Damian opened his eyes and saw Gypsy pushing him in his side. “Get up! You’ll die if you sit here! You need to warm up. Start moving. Get your blood flowing.” She seized the bottom of his pants with her teeth, her entire tiny body leaning back in an effort to pull him up.

  He scrambled to his feet, the room around him spinning. River... As the thought rushed through his fogged mind, he forced himself to move forward, barely dragging his feet. He remembered reaching the door to River’s room, but he had no idea how long it took for him to get there.

  “Incanto Comlium,” he muttered, removing the protection spell he had placed over her room. He cracked the door open. With relief, he saw her sleeping peacefully in her bed and closed the door quietly. This little effort took too much of his strength, and he leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall. His hands resonated with pain, and he pulled back.

  Still feeling drowsy, he made his way to the kitchen and opened a small wine cabinet he’d noticed there earlier. Grabbing the first cup he could find, he filled it with whisky and drank it in a few large gulps, his teeth knocking against the glass. Then he placed the cup on the countertop and leaned against it, dropping his head low.

  “Wow! I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  Like through a fog, he heard River’s sarcastic voice and slowly turned around, almost losing his balance.

  “I... am... s-s-orry,” he stuttered, his speech slurred.

  Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she took in his appearance. “Oh, my God, Damian,” she gasped, closing the distance between them. She placed her hand on his arm and jerked it back. “You’re freezing. I don’t understand... Did you take a quick trip to Alaska?” Her eyes traveled down to his bleeding feet, and she gasped again. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Quest-tions... can’t... answer...”

  “No more questions. Sorry.” River wrapped her arm around his waist, gently directing him out of the kitchen. She walked him into the living room and helped him down on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

  She came back a few seconds later, carrying a large fleece blanket and a first-aid kit. She wrapped him into the blanket and lowered to her knees before him, placing the kit on the floor next to her. Lifting his bleeding foot onto her lap, she disinfected the wounds and placed a bandage over them. Then she repeated the procedure with his other foot. Her moves were quick and habitual, and he was sure it wasn’t the first time she had done something like this.

  Once done, she lifted the corner of the blanket and slipped under it, encircling Damian’s torso with her arms. He stiffened and held his breath as she pressed her entire body to his, placing her head on his chest.

  “What... are you... d-d-oing?” he managed to say.

  “Sharing my body heat with you, dumbass.” She chuckled, but there was no humor in her voice. “You are hypothermic. I don’t understand how it’s possible.” She glanced up at his face and smirked. “I know, in your medieval standards, my behavior is unacceptable for a lady. But I sorta don’t give a damn about what you think at this moment.”

  “I can get used to that...” Realizing what he just said, Da
mian groaned and leaned back on the couch, working hard to convince himself it was the whisky talking. However, it’d been centuries since someone took care of him, and he had no strength to say no to that. Gypsy snuck under the blanket and settled on his lap, her hot body warming up his stomach. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of peace.

  Once he stopped shivering, River let go and got up, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. She left and came back a few minutes later with a cup of hot tea, a bitter, earthy scent of herbs spreading through the air. He took the cup from her hands, wrapping his fingers around it.

  “Drink it,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “Drink it, and I’m taking you to bed.” He raised his eyes at her, and she pursed her lips, gazing at him with reproach. “To your bed where you’re going to lie down and sleep for the rest of this crazy night. Alone.” She thought for a moment and laughed softly. “Well, maybe with Gypsy. This traitorous cat seems to like you more than me now.”

  “As if.” Gypsy jumped down from his lap and walked around River, wrapping her bushy tail around her legs.

  Damian finished his tea, and she took the cup from him, putting it on the glass table. He got up and swayed a little. He was no longer cold, but the extreme use of his magic had drained him, making him weaker. Trying not to lean too heavily on her shoulder, he made it to his bed and lay down. She pulled the blanket over him all the way to his chin, tucking him in as if he were a ten-year-old boy. Gazing down at him, she shook her head slightly, frowning.

  “I would really like to know how a giant man like you could get hypothermia inside of a locked house in the middle of the Arizona summer,” she whispered. He opened his mouth, but she raised her hands, stopping him. “I know, I know. That was a rhetorical question. Good night, Day.”

  Damian didn’t remember her leaving the room. His exhausted body took over his racing mind, and he was asleep before she walked out the door.