Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra)

by Poppet

  She's so out of it, exhausted, deep in the plyx of the subconscious, I lean over and exhale again, watching as she responds in deepest sleep.

  Sitting next to her on her bed, I can't hide my gleeful smile.

  A hand either side of her head, I press close, positioning my fangs over the marks Jowendrhan left, piercing the skin, slipping deep inside her, injecting lustful contraband into her bloodstream, relishing the gasp and arch of her body up against mine.

  I haven't tasted the slakax yet. I need to know what Phoebe will taste like. I need to be prepared for every eventuality.

  This is just homework, very satisfying homework.

  Maybe she knows where Phoebe is.

  Slipping inside her mind now that we share body fluids, I roam for the answers I seek.

  Slakax power blasts into my mouth, exploding her light into mine, burning her spirit into my DNA.

  Oh baby! Forget your blood, I want to suck your plyx.

  The room turns red with my vampyre vision, the blood guilt leaking over my irises with the passion now raging in me.

  Sucking harder, I drink her plyx, relishing the shivering of her petite form as I return the favor. Biting harder, harder, drinking, guzzling, I'm half drunk on it already.

  She is redemption. Phoebe's the oldest, which makes her the strongest. If I can get this from Phoebe, I won't need god, I'll have found the key out of my prison without anyone's help but her plyx in my veins, in my light.

  Euphoria bleeds over my clarity, fogging the ability to think, instinct taking over, sucking harder on her blood, plyx, skin.

  Italy. Phoebe's in Italy.

  I'm in her memories, seeing Zaria holding Phoebe tight, pouring her pink plyx into her sister. Looking harder, I see Phoebe's plyx is blue. This is fantastic! Phoebe contains the plyx of two slakax inside her.

  Fuck, that rocks me so hard I'm going to cum right here.

  I get all three inside of me. I'm harnessing Božena's right this second, and when I find Phoebe I get hers and Zaria's.

  My appetite rumbles and I suck harder, withdrawing Zena's plyx, unable to maintain the charade of a gentleman. Ellindt has given me wicked appetites, and this chick right here will do for tonight.

  Touch me, come on, touch me. Let me own your dream. Closer, that's it.

  Chapter 26

  Sveta:

  Leaning with my back against a tree trunk, I look out over the valley as the sun comes up, flooding the land with long hot fingers, glossing the autumn leaves with a sheen so vivid the entire world looks like a banquet.

  I hope she likes the flowers. I keep checking my phone, because she's usually awake at this hour, but so far nothing, and I'm trying my damnedest not to panic and think the worst.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Hiding my fright, I refuse to look at him even though I would recognize that voice anywhere.

  “What do you want?”

  Screwing my eyes up, my jaw tensing, I maintain my position, my elbows resting on my knees, swilling a long stem of dried grass in my fingers, irritably digging my heel into the loamy earth.

  He sits next to me, staring out at my magnificent view. How the fuck did he find me?

  “You need to know something,” he says, shielding his eyes from the brilliance of sunrise, looking at me, dropping the vampyre act, sitting here looking human.

  Exhaling through my nose, I give up. Annoyed, I look at him, wishing they'd all fuck off and leave us alone. I arch my eyebrows, waiting.

  “Vampyres can see through walls. That's how he knew about her bruises. She didn't betray you.”

  “Why are you here?” I repeat, gritting my teeth.

  “To apologize. I am sorry for letting love blind me. Jowendrhan has egotistical tendencies, and they are leading him astray.”

  Gee, I wonder where he got those tendencies from. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, where I'm sitting.

  He smiles, “I deserve that. I'm moving the family to Cape Town. Ellindt lives there. The twins are staying with me, but if Zena ever wants to see them, she has my number and I'll arrange it.”

  “What do you want?” I ask the archangel, unable to hide my suspicion.

  “I have to save my family from entirely falling into ruin. Darise and Jowendrhan have never been violent, their behavior shocked me as much as it did you.”

  “It didn't shock me. You kicked my ass for the sheer fun of it too. They're just like you.”

  I leave the rest out, the part about never fighting with an honor code, without gentlemanly conduct, blindsiding their target, never playing fair.

  Picturing him appearing on the highway, my blood burns with rage.

  “Angels have egos too. That's something earth dwellers seem to forget. They think angels are altruistic and like god. We are from Spirit, yes, but the moment spirit takes on a physical form we are afflicted by the physical world. We all fight the same issues deep inside.”

  I nod, humoring him, remaining silent.

  “You love her?” he says.

  “None of your fucking business.”

  He laughs, it's deep and foreboding. “I must go. Healing you was my way of saying I'm sorry.”

  I nod again. I'm never going to thank him for that. He can fuck right off.

  He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I stare at it, torn. It's like making a deal with a devil.

  Dropping it, he stands, “Take care of them.”

  Watching him loom over me, he vanishes in a shimmer, leaving behind the key.

  The key!

  What the fuck was he doing with the key?

  *

  Božena:

  With the way I'm feeling, you'd swear I spent my night drinking one hundred percent pure alcohol.

  My mouth is dry, my head pounding and foggy, my body weighted with fatigue.

  I need coffee.

  Rolling out of bed, I catch myself on the side of the mattress, forcing myself to push up and stand.

  I think I'm coming down with something. I feel truly shit.

  Blinking, trying to focus, I stare at the bloodstain on my pillow. I don't remember stabbing myself in the head. What's that all about?

  Fuck it, maybe I did drink? I feel like Hell on heroine.

  Rubbing my arms against the chill, I stumble down the passage to start the coffee, stopping off in the bathroom first.

  I miss Sveta. Fuck, I hope he's okay.

  My heart cracks and sobs swell up, wracking me, leaving me weakened and sliding down the cupboard to sit heavily on the floor.

  Shit! Triple fucking shit!

  It's over.

  Nooooo! The snot blubs up, choking me, the sobs slamming so hard I can't breathe.

  Curling into myself, I cry long after the coffee is ready.

  *

  Sveta:

  I can't take this.

  It's now after nine and I still haven't heard a peep. Does she really hate me that much that she won't even acknowledge me?

  Burying my pride, I text her. Then resume watching my phone like it's a bomb ticking, ready to explode.

  I cried like a fucking baby in the shower. The second I stripped I could smell her on me, the scent only increasing when hot water hit my skin.

  I fucking love you so much.

  Fisting my hands until they ache, the tears burn again and I pound my curled hand hard against my forehead. Why does it have to hurt? Is this what you felt like every day of your life? Fuck, it's enough to drive me into doing something reckless.

  I check the phone again, wiping my eyes impatiently.

  *

  Božena:

  Using the coffee mug to warm my hands, I dawdle back to the bedroom to get dressed. Or climb back into bed and stay there. I haven't decided which.

  Passing the front door, the weirdest stuff catches my eye.

  What's that?

  Walking to the door, I lean down to peer at the stalks in the letter slot. Putting the coffee down, I lift up the flap, looking outside, holdin
g fading green straws.

  Ohmigod, they're flowers!

  Carefully pulling them through the slot, I'm holding a tiny posy of sweet-peas. Periwinkle blue sweet-peas. There's a note tied to them, and I unknot the string binding them, opening the tiny piece of paper.

  I saw these and thought of you

  They're for my Angel, because she's always blue

  S

  My heart slams so hard into my ribcage, it leaves me breathless. They're from Sveta! It's natural to sniff them, inhaling the delicate fragrance. I vaguely recall these growing in his garden.

  He was broken... as I recall... trying to remember, my head pounds with a violent throb... swallowing hard, I shake the nausea. He went all the way home to pick these, then come all the way back?

  I don't deserve him.

  What does this mean? Has he forgiven me? Reclaiming my coffee, smiling happily at my flowers, I hold them possessively to my nose, hope burgeoning in my heart. Injecting me with energy.

  Where's my phone?

  Rummaging in my jeans, I unearth it, leaving my coffee on the bedside table, sliding the bar to send him a thank you, praying this wasn't a goodbye gift.

  I have a message.

  Please just let me know you're okay.

  My hands start trembling. Resting the iPhone on the bed, I struggle to message back.

  I'm okay. Thank you for the flowers.

  It vibrates almost immediately.

  Can I come see you?

  Yes!

  I'll be there in ten ...x

  Yay! He ended it with a kiss!

  Oh my god! I have to get dressed! Brush my teeth!

  Panic sets in and I start running around like a schizo with Alzheimer's, giggling with delirious happiness that he's okay, he's coming to see me, he left me flowers!

  *

  Sveta:

  Punching the air, I sprint down the mountain to my den.

  I don't care if I break every speed limit between here and there, I will be there in ten minutes or die trying.

  *

  Božena:

  I'm so nervous as I open the door. He looks fabulous. You would never know he was beaten and broken five hours ago by looking at him.

  Morning light caresses his chestnut hair, glinting the short spikes with copper fire.

  Swallowing hard, my heart slides heavily to my knees and tears rise up to fill the space, thickening my breath and making inhalation impossible.

  “May I come in?” he asks, his voice deep and smooth.

  Nodding, I step out of the way, wishing with every blood vessel in my body he'd just sweep me up and hug me to death when he walks in.

  Closing the door, I stare up at him in the dim shadow of the passage.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, a faint apricot haze coming out of his right eye.

  I nod, still too upset and nervous to speak.

  He brushes a palm over his hair, slumping a broad shoulder against the wall and perching in that slant, a half smile on his lips, “Is this the silent treatment?”

  Shaking my head to answer, his gentle approach and half-joke undoes me, and a sob pops out of me like a loud burp. Shamed and embarrassed, I smother my fist over my mouth.

  He loses the smile, his eyes darkening when they grow serious, highlighting the embers of light in their darkness.

  Turning away, misery engulfing me again, I jump when he touches me, because I didn't see it coming. Folded against him, he hugs me.

  I'm so sorry Sveta. I didn't mean to hurt you.

  I can't speak, my eyes are burning up with a hot flood, but I know he can hear me.

  The hold tightens, squeezing the breath out of me.

  “Right back at you, baby.”

  We hold on, tight, for what feels like days, and I feel rejected when he pushes me away, dropping down in front of me so he can look me in the eyes.

  “Zena, there's a hell of a journey ahead of us, but I'm willing to take it. Tell me to fuck off and I will. But if you feel the way I do, we can do this together.”

  It comes out like a question, and I nod, impulsively reaching out and holding his jaw in my hands, soaking in the soft prickle of stubble, staring at the fire in his eyes.

  His jaw twitches, the muscles jumping into my hands.

  “Say something,” he says, and it's gruff enough to expose him.

  He really cares.

  “Care? I put my ass on the line for you three times a day, and then some,” he laughs, smiling, deepening the dimple in his chin.

  “Shut the fuck up and kiss me, or I'm evicting you.”

  My heart hammers when he sweeps me up in his standing, slamming me into the passage wall, kissing me so hard I never want to come up for air.

  Chapter 27

  Sveta: Two days later.

  “So, I've been thinking,” I say.

  “That's always a dangerous pastime. Did you pull a muscle again?”

  I laugh at her cheek, scratching below my lip with my thumbnail, “It's time to come clean.”

  “I can't come clean. I can cum, but I like my mind filthy, I don't do clean.”

  “Zena,” I chide, half choking on my laugh. I lean over her, planting an elbow either side of her head, looking into her deep blue eyes and the black hair webbing over my bed. “Babes, I want to heal you.”

  She belts out, “Lay your hands on me!”

  “Seriously. Can we stop screwing long enough to have a meaningful conversation?”

  “I have a new word to describe you,” she smiles salaciously.

  “What?”

  “Satantric. You are sexier than evil, and you do that tantric stuff that leaves me ruined in the aftermath. You are satantric.”

  “I like it,” I nod. “But seriously Angel, we need to own this moment, focus.”

  She loses the smile, fear deepening her eyes to indigo.

  “That fucking does it.” I cannot, and will not, stare into terrified eyes again.

  Clamping her head in my hands, I dive in, using my new alpha ability to rework her thought patterns, to remove the scar tissue, to smooth over the welts, to unknot the network, to remake her reactions to stress. To give her the perspective she needs to know not everything has to hurt, sometimes all it takes is communication, and a lot of honesty.

  Carefully sitting up, releasing her, I hold my breath, hoping it worked. Alpha neuri can change minds, it's our greatest weapon.

  Sparkling eyes stare intently at mine, “That was weird.”

  “Good weird, bad weird?”

  “Sexy weird. Satantric weird.”

  While she was sleeping I snuck outside, and with my rogue smile front and center I reach beyond her, retrieving my surprise.

  With a flourish, I present her with a bunch of pink sweet-peas.

  “Pink?”

  “Because you're no longer blue.”

  “Because I'm with you,” she rhymes, laughing, taking them and inhaling deeply, closing her eyes and looking like a gift the fairies left in my bed.

  Like a dream I refuse to wake from.

  Stretching up, tempting me with the arch of her back, she flops when she relaxes again, “I could get used to this. Do you deliver morning coffee too?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” she smiles, so freaking cute I could lick her raw.

  Licking her plyx is like living on angel orgasms.

  Pulling my focus back, I smile with meaning, “I only make coffee for family.”

  She arches her eyebrows, “Elitist prig.”

  Using her flowers to slap my bicep, the key flies out of it, hitting me in the neck.

  “What was that?”

  She sits up, almost head butting me, wriggling around until she claims the chain. Realization dawns on her, recognizing it as the same type of key that Zaria wears.

  “What is this?” She drops the flowers, fingering the key, looking at me, her focus flicking over my eyes, back and forth, looking for the meaning, hoping but afraid to hope.

&
nbsp; “I will never be king, and I don't want to be. I will never be the alpha ruling Belgrade, and don't want that either. All I am is a man in love with a slakax. Stay with me...”

  It's harder than I thought, my pulse spiking and my chest tightening. Running my hand up her side, I squeeze, “Please?”

  You're all I want, Zena. Just you.

  “Are you asking me to wear your key?”

  I nod, biting down hard to control my emotions.

  She looks at it, turning the heart-head around, examining the three hearts that represent Ryan - my brother and King, Zauran - my brother and alpha, and mine, a piece of amber shaped like a heart. The three of us represent the heart of the neuri nation, just like Zaria, Phoebe, and Zena represent the heart of the slakax.

  Ryan's been doing a lot of research, making sense of it all for us, sending the info when he finds it. He's in Italy with Phoebe, and has no intention of returning until she's ocean deep in love with him.

  Good luck with that bro.

  Zena clamping arms around my neck and squeezing, breaks the thought, “Yes!”

  Hugging her back, I squeeze harder, “Do you remember the first night I brought you here?”

  She sniffs in my ear, nodding, burying her face in my neck.

  “I said welcome home. I want to be your home baby. I'm the place where you should go to hide, the safe place, the one place you always have a key to and a warm hug waiting to hold you.”

  She sobs in my ear, and I hold her tighter.

  “I love you Angel, this home is empty without you,” I murmur in her ear, referring to my chest.

  Ducking my head, I kiss her neck, holding her like we're the last two in the bunker, and the bombs are detonating everywhere.

  We've been through hell together, and finally we're on the path to peace. She's healed, she's going to wear my key, the one that will always keep her safe; the sworn allegiance of a nation is in that key. We don't do rings unless they want a ring. We give keys. The keys to our hearts, to our power, to our homes, to our plyx.

  I love you Zena. Never forget that.