by Nini Church
“Yes, shoes.” She giggled.
At the sound, a wave of amusement engulfed him – it was one of the most delightful sounds he had ever heard. That he made her giggle pleased him immensely.
He cleared his throat and shifted his left foot to the side to jostle his engorged cock into an easier angle. His low riders were fucking stuffed to the brim. “You can’t walk around barefoot. I forbid it.”
“Huh? Forbid?” She chuckled, but her emerald eyes turned serious. By the tilt to her brow, she dared him to deny what she wanted. “I’m not a child. Now, please put me down.”
He easily read her disgruntled expression while hiding it startled him. Not used to handling a strong female who knew what she wanted when she wanted it – it threw him off balance. She pushed him at every turn. No way was she the shy, retiring sort – easily malleable and somewhat pliable – as he had assumed.
It was Jericho’s turn to groan as he gave in and let her bare feet slide to the cold stone floor. Hands loosely around her waist, he anchored her close. There was a whole wing in the basement filled with all kinds of furniture and rugs. He’d send a couple of guys down to gather up what they needed. Clearly rugs, lotsa rugs. He had nothing else to offer.
Other than using his considerable skills to seduce her to his way of thinking so they could drop to the floor right here and have raw fucking sex. He relished the very idea. Yeah, he could work that angle.
Hell – who was he kidding?
He had never seduced a female the way he wanted to with this one. It pissed him off that he was a green horn at this shit and for the first time didn’t know what to do or how to handle this female. One corner of his mouth curled as a wide grin appeared – another first. Hiding it from her, he turned aside.
And best by far in his estimation – she seemed unaware of the powerful effect she was having on him.
Which meant he still couldn't read her mind and she sure wasn’t reading his. Both were still in the dark – for now.
“Do you know my name? Do you know me?” Her pleading tone told how desperate she was for some answers, but he shook his head.
“How did I get here then? Who are you?”
“Jericho Sullivan. We were passing by your cabin, saw a wall had recently collapsed and stopped to check it out." He didn't tell her the cabin couldn't be seen from the road nor did he bring up the summons – her summons and he had answered it. "You were out cold. Likely the wall collapsed on you and clipped you in the back of the head. The bump is quite big. You slept for a day and half and only woke up a few times.”
“Did I say anything? I recall you talking, your voice.”
“You said several times you didn't know who you were, but then said your name was Abe."
“Well, sheesh, that’s a male's name.” A tentative small smile lit up her face, then spread as her green eyes twinkled.
Jericho grinned sheepishly. “Yes, it is.” He liked and admired her spunk, her strength, her ability to laugh in the face of tragedy. There was no way to tell if she’d ever recall her life before her head injury. A horrific concept that, never to remember who you were, your people, your life.
“Okay, I guess Abe will work until I start to remember.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Now, piccola, where are your shoes?” Intense blue eyes swept over the floor before landing back on her, roaming over her lips until finally spying amusement dancing in her gorgeous emerald eyes.
A twist to the side and Abe slipped out of his gentle hold, surprising him. She giggled, moving away to give him a wide berth. “You know very well where all good shoes should be.” One step at a time, she backed up until she stood in the dining room doorway. “Upstairs where they belong.” As she turned to dash through the room, a blaze of sunshine from the wall of windows captured her attention. A wide pleasurable smile lit her face.
Jericho was entranced by her as an aura of golden sunshine spun around her. The way she smiled with such delight made his heart sing. He was lost in a world of wonder. A new world.
It only took seconds before his dreamy trance evaporated, leaving him confused. He couldn't wrap his mind around what just happened. This was his domain and he gave the orders around here – not a slip of a female called Abe.
It was unthinkable that she made fun of him or giggled while openly laughing at him. Not to mention her whole snorting routine a direct rejection of his orders.
That made him fucking pause.
No one rejected his orders.
Yet, Abe had openly disobeyed him and gotten her way.
Shit!
How did that happen?
Strangely, he felt in over his head with no fucking lifeline in sight. To a male, every one of his elite team were bona fide bachelors.
Ready to roar at her, he opened his mouth then quickly shut it as Conn and a smirking Zulu stepped to the side, letting Abe saunter past into the great room. When Reno moved away from the dining room wall, Jericho did a double take.
Truth? He’d even forgotten about Reno keeping six in the dining room.
Veins bulged in his neck. Another roar ripped up his throat trying to claw its way out. Working hard to calm down, Jericho guzzled in a couple of deep breaths.
Judiciously, Conn nodded at Jericho almost taunting him.
Hell! Jericho wondered if they had listened to him sparring with Abe until she got him so confused he gave in – never realizing he was doing it.
All three males didn’t make any attempts to hide their shit eating grins.
He ignored them. Deep strong tone carrying far, “Abe? Where do you think you’re going?”
“Upstairs, but not to find my shoes.” Tinkling laughter was followed by a fit of giggles.
Jericho tilted his head, he loved the sound of her happiness even if she was cheeky about it.
“Abe?” Reno purred, one blond brow curling high. “She sticking with that?”
Jericho shrugged.
“Nae. Tis nae right.” Conn shook his shaggy red mane. “She needs a pretty name. Something that speaks of her beauty and her bright as a star personality.” Conn hadn’t lived in his native Scotland for more than two centuries, yet his brogue was as thick as ever.
“She’s a beauty. You’re right, Conn. She’s got curves in all the best places, man. Bet she smells sweet too. All that blonde hair and those big green eyes makes you wanna reach out and touch someone.” Reno kept his face serene, well aware Jericho boiled just beneath the surface. A good stir of the pot never hurt any male, but in this case he needed to know Jericho’s attitude with this new female.
Conn grimaced but stayed quiet. A Scot always protected and loved his lass. Went without having tae say it.
“She’s cool, Reno. Don’t talk her...about her shit. Handful, that’s what she is. A nice handful.” Zulu’s language barrier always tripped him up. He stepped back with a smirk on his face, eyes square on Jericho, knowing this female was special to him.
Zulu was a tribal warrior and females were everything to his tribe. An integral part of the underpinnings of a prosperous life, they were sacred to the tribe’s heart and always honored, but more often worshipped.
Jericho trembled with rage. It pissed him off they dared laugh at him while baiting him about not being able to control his female.
WTF?
His female?
Eyes purple now – a tell that rage and protective instincts were goin’ full-blown, he glared at Reno and the other two males. “Anyone lays a hand on Abe, they’re gonna go through me first. I am her front fucking line.” He bit out each word before storming out intent on securing Abe in his room.
Protective instincts for his female were overwhelming and for the first time he needed reassurance – she had to be safe and in his bed.
If she knew what was good for her, that’s where he’d find her.
CHAPTER 5
With Abe safely tucked into bed at the compound and under his protection, Jericho turned his focus on their current mi
ssion. “Let’s move.”
Reno, Rad – for the first time since his rescue – and Conn were armed and ready. Zulu and Caleb were rounding up the vehicles. Cal would stay behind to run the command centre.
Each of the team carried human weapons, but only used them for distraction or to enforce the upper hand – any edge was good. It never failed no matter the race – a couple of rapid bullet holes always got attention.
Turned Vamps and their Grunts were at it north of Bellsville – on the outer edges of Wainesboro's seedier side. Too many were coming up drained and dead, bringing unwanted human attention to every other race. Since this was part of his turf, Jericho meant to do a little cleansing tonight.
They pulled out in a convoy of different vehicles, all five of them. The fifth with four extra warriors.
Voice hard, Jericho asked, “Why the extras?” He waited in silence.
Conn finally huffed. “As aer King, t’wouldn’t do to go without backup, aye.”
“They’ll only slow us down, Conn.”
“Fuck, boss,” Reno threw up his hands, “it’s one of your rules.”
Zulu shook his head, eyes drilling into Jericho. “Fuck me – no, fuck off – its a no-go unless they go.”
Jericho winced, hating that Zu was right and so were the rest of his team – using a backup team was the only choice. Cal had also fucking wired him with sensors and two GPS chips just in case one got fried or whacked too hard. As King, he knew his position, but it never failed to irritate him when others reminded him.
He ruled with an iron fist, but a fair hand and detested the title of King for it was meant to place him high above the norm. Not where he wanted to rule from.
Twenty miles of north of Bellsville, it didn’t take long to get to the eastern edge of Wainesboro. The other side of the tracks in this town. The wrong side of the tracks.
Out of the vehicles, they split up with the Jimmie carrying four extra warriors staying in the background. If anyone else but Jericho ordered them to stay put it would've been ignored. Four of the best fighters on the continent, they were here to protect their King. It burned a few asses in that Jimmie that he had effectively caged them.
On point, they watched his elite team smoothly form a wall around their King – all angles covered. A number of warriors grunted, easing back and settling in, realizing they might be in for a real show of talent – First Blood shit and that didn't happen often as they never advertised their lineage.
Reno cut his forearm to scent the air with blood and then moved in tight next to Jericho with Zu purposely stumbling behind. They didn’t want to find the turned Vamps – the plan was to have them stumble upon Jericho and his team.
Warded with glamor, it gave them the appearance of human males.
Several Grunts approached – their unmistakeable stench ripe. Many streetlights were dark – too often the bulbs were used for target practice – and the town didn't bother replacing them, leaving dark ominous patches along most streets.
The smell hit them first. Grunts stunk like no other. Turned humans that eventually became a shell of bones after their flesh slowly putrefied, eaten away by turned Vampire maggots that didn’t rush, but took their time, savoring every finite scrap of flesh – hopefully infused with living giving blood. The more the turned Vamp maggots got – and they ate first – the longer the putrification process hence the greater the stench. A too ripe Grunt was an almost dead Grunt.
Silently, Reno gagged as foul odors stuffed up his nose and caught at the back of his throat. It was hard to smell any turned Vamps now and maybe that was the point of Grunts stinking so fucking bad.
Almost 2 a.m. and heading home, Reno stepped ahead as Jericho staggered back to help his friend after a long night of drinking. Reno hunched his shoulders down, losing several inches of height and more human size now. The Grunts seemed to accept the visual as they strolled along unalarmed – in control and heading right for them. A snack to start their nightly prowl.
Zulu and Jericho paused in a pool of dark shadow as the tribal warrior ghosted into air molecules to keep six above. When it came to their King, no angle remained uncovered.
A big Polynesian male in the passenger seat of the hidden Jimmie grunted acknowledgement – watching the elite warriors provide complete coverage for their King. The other warriors remained silent for they respected the tribal warrior with a keen intelligence.
Jericho burped a couple of times and slurped out, “Can’t carry you… Too ducking frunk...” Unbalanced, Jericho stumbled, lurching out of the darkness, heading for Reno standing in the middle of the dark road, fearful and trembling.
One Grunt said, “Hey, they’re fresh.”
“Yeah, Carl might want these for himself,” another added with regret.
Blackness rushed past the Grunts. Carl had arrived and just as they surmised, he was going to take these two fresh humans for himself. All four Grunts were well aware another lay hidden, sleeping off his drunken stupor. If all went well and Carl had his fill, they could share a piece of the hidden one. It would work, they all liked different parts of humans and each could take a share of blood too.
Jericho nodded once, but didn't turn to Reno. This monster, Carl, was well known in this area and he was more vicious than others of his kind.
Carl took form from oily black fog. Tall and elegant, he was once handsome, but no longer with red blazing eyes and bits and pieces of him not quite right – a big tell. Too many times feeding from addicts or drunks took its toll as the real Carl was revealed – his right hand was only bone with long blackened claws.
Reno and Jericho sobered up immediately.
“Fuck what are you? Shit he’s yugly,” Jericho blurted in shock.
Carl grinned evilly, no teeth except a set of long blackened fangs. His glamor didn’t include his mouth obviously. “I’m your worst nightmare. Come to me boys.” His left hand, glamoured to the max was all tanned skin and strong fingers, waving them closer.
Hesitant and resisting, they moved towards the creature, afraid and wide eyed, until Jericho struck out so fast Carl didn’t know what hit him.
Smile dropping away, Carl’s neck oddly lurched to the side as powerful hands snapped it clean from his backbone and his head lolled around. Left hand raised, he sent a blast of energy at the big blonde male behind the one attacking him, thinking to take him out first, fry him on the spot, so he could focus on his main concern. Instead, it blasted around the blonde male, but didn’t touch him.
A big black shit-kickers hit Carl in the chest and he gasped, staggering backwards. “Guess you boys don’t wanna party.” A sinister black gummy smile split his face as he swung out with his withered and boney right hand, sending power down his arm as he dumped the bigger of the two Jinn’s on his ass. Yeah, that stopped his fucking fists from flying everywhere.
Reno grunted and snapped in a couple of furious jabs to the turned Vamp’s wobbling face before Jericho was back on his feet, shoving him out of the away.
They fought, hand-to-hand with Carl pouring on his power and using up his strength healing injuries he hadn’t expected as Jericho pitched him face first to the ground.
Carl shouted for his Grunts and when only silence came, he was disappointed but not defeated. “They were fresh you bastards!” And the only ones Carl had left. Weren’t no more back up coming to save his ass.
The bones of his right hand lengthened as long black claws slashed across Jericho’s chest, digging in for his heart.
Jericho pulled back and stopped the blood flow, cauterizing the wound with his mind as wisps of smoked flesh filled the air. He lunged for the turned Vamp, who took the deek, before swinging around on the balls of his feet to drive his fist through Carl’s back, locking his fingers around a withered, gnarly heart. Skin burned and pain roared in his mind, but Jericho shut it out.
Not hesitating, he tossed the heart to Reno who drew all the life out of it as oily gray mist swirled upwards.
Contrary to popular myth
, it isn’t a big flash bang event as others would have you believe. Indeed, it takes quiet and concentration to drain a turned Vamp’s final energies. Once done, the body normally collapses into a heap of ash.
It is true the two cannot be laid to ground together and for that reason Reno tucked the withered black heart – tiny as an olive pit now – into a pouch fashioned by their tech wizard, Caleb, for just such purposes.
Jericho mentally checked in with Zulu – invisibly floating above and protective as hell. Well aware every mind reading wave length was open season on anyone that dared use them – a trick of Jericho’s was his ability to send a message so infinitesimally brief as to not manifest. He simply delayed the elemental impulse, dispersing it before it entered any mind reading wave length.
Zulu materialized beside him.
Casually, Conn and Rad sauntered down the street towards them. A short whistle told the area was clear, their recon turning up nothing else.
He took the time to make sure his chest wound was closed and reset the tendon across the bridge of his nose. Jericho’s hand came away bloody. The scent of blood was likely what drove Carl to attack them – his first and last mistake. As it smelled similar, Jinn blood was often mistaken for human blood.
Long held rumors had it that to drink from a Jinn was poison to all other races. Their blood that is. Carl, in his frantic need for what smelled like fresh blood, had perhaps forgotten about that. Too old, too slow and hungry, he neglected to pick up the finer points – that the blood had a slightly different tang to it unlike human blood. That's what happened when your diet was all about tainted blood – it dulled senses and slowed down reactions, making Carl an easy target.
Too easy to take down in Jericho’s estimation; he was just getting started. He had a lot of angst and this was one sure fire way to get rid of it. “Let’s move.”
With a wide grin, Conn asked, “Seconds?”
Jericho nodded, not yet ready to call it a night. The closed wound across his chest itched and pinched. “Let’s see what else we can dig up.”
