Blurred Nights (1st in the Blurred Trilogy)

by Kallysten

  Marc couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed Blake's legs and shuffled forward on his knees. He pressed his cock to Blake's ass and entered him, slow and unyielding. Blake groaned loudly, arching his back. At once, Marc stilled and covered his mouth with his hand.

  "Not a sound,” he murmured.

  Kate had stopped keeping guard on their door after a few days, but they never knew who might be at the tables or practicing in the main room.

  Blake tried to give him an exasperated look, but it ended up looking needy more than anything else. Pulling his hand back, Marc grabbed Blake's thighs again and pushed them a little higher.

  "Touch yourself. Show me what I've been listening to for two weeks."

  Eyes blazing, lips pinched together, Blake dropped his right hand to his cock and started stroking it. Marc followed his movements with his eyes and hips, accelerating his thrusting along with him, slowing down when Blake did. When Blake caught up with what he was doing, he fell into a fast and steady rhythm. The pink of his cock looked darker against the pale skin of his fist. With each stroke down, he exposed the tip, shiny with clear wetness that he wiped on every slide up before spreading it down along his shaft. The sight was entrancing, much more so than what Marc had imagined, in the past few days, while listening to Blake masturbate just feet away.

  Pressure was building inside him, tightening in his cock and balls as he pushed inside Blake a little harder, a little deeper, to the rhythm of flesh hitting flesh. There was just one thing missing. He let go of Blake's leg and leaned forward, resting on his forearms and trapping Blake's hand and cock between them. With this new angle, he couldn't thrust as much, but he never stopped moving.

  He shushed Blake's protests with a quick kiss before bending to his neck. Blake angled his head away, giving him space even as he closed his arms around him. Marc ran his tongue over the silver scars from his very first bite, the one that had made Blake a vampire, then dropped his fangs and reopened the marks. Taste filled his mouth, intimately familiar and yet always surprising even after all these years. He bucked in one last time as he pulled deep on his Childe's blood. The feel of his flesh beneath him, around him, inside his mouth, the taste of his blood and lust, the scent of his pleasure, his moans, all of it overloaded Marc. He came with a growl muffled against Blake's neck, pleasure rolling over him in strong waves that washed away everything that wasn't them and now.

  Blake was trembling under him, close but not quite close enough. Feeling a little groggy, Marc bit down on his own tongue. Blood spurted into his mouth, the flavor mixing with remnants of Blake's blood. He found Blake's lips and covered it with his own while he reached between them to tighten his hand over Blake's on his cock. He kissed him again, deep and slow this time. Blake moaned when their tongues met. He drew Marc's into his mouth and sucked lightly on it, drawing out more blood. Another louder moan and he came, shuddering violently beneath Marc, his cock pulsing in their joined hands.

  For a few more seconds, Marc held on to Blake, as always enjoying the feel of his Childe's body trembling against him. When Blake, with a satisfied little hum, ended the kiss, Marc rolled off him and they fell apart. Grinning smugly in the darkness, Marc closed his eyes and stretched.

  "You were worried for me,” he said.

  Blake huffed as though he had been offended by the idea. “Of course not!"

  "Just admit it. I saw the way you looked at me when I walked out of the city."

  "I told you, I was just jealous you got to fight and I didn't."

  Marc rolled onto his side, facing away from Blake. He yawned.

  "You've always been such a crappy liar."

  "I'm not—I don't—"

  Blake punched his shoulder, not quite hard enough to actually hurt but Marc growled in warning anyway. He thought things would take a turn for the worse when Blake got out of the bed, but after flipping off the light switch by the door, he returned to lie next to Marc. For a little while, he remained silent and Marc started falling asleep. Until...

  "Any progress with Kate?"

  Marc's eyes opened again, sleep sliding out of his reach. He forced himself not to move, knowing Blake was waiting for him to react.

  "I don't know what you mean by that,” he said very calmly, hearing his own lie ring clear as a bell in each word.

  Blake chuckled. “Who's a crappy liar? I thought you'd have something to share by now. You've been with her just about every night."

  "I've been with her, working,” Marc said, gritting his teeth. “And we're not exactly alone. And even if we were—"

  He cut himself short. He should never have played Blake's game to begin with, and he didn't want Blake to guess it wasn't a game for him anymore. He liked Kate. He liked her a lot, more than he would have expected. There were many things about her that reminded him of Blake—of the human Blake had been. Her determination, her sense of humor, her loyalty, how single-minded she could be about keeping her people safe, the way she could be so clueless, at times, when something she didn't expect was thrown her way ... All these things, Marc had enjoyed in Blake; some of them, he now missed. It was disconcerting to find them again in a different person.

  "'Doesn't matter,” Blake said with a yawn. “You can find all the excuses you want, she'll be mine."

  Marc rolled onto his back, eyes still staring at the darkness. “If you wanted to teach me a lesson,” he said, each word quiet and deliberate, “I heard it, loud and clear. You can stop."

  "Stop? I've barely even started."

  "You're going to hurt her."

  Marc winced even as the words passed his lips. He shouldn't have said this, shouldn't have given Blake any reason to believe that—

  "You care about her that much?"

  The bitter triumph in Blake's quiet words twisted something inside Marc. He didn't respond. Nothing he said would make anything better now, not when he had inadvertently confirmed Blake's suspicions. He closed his eyes and tried to find sleep, all too aware that Blake, when he rolled onto his side, severed all contact between them.

  * * * *

  Hiding a yawn behind his hand, Marc emerged from the bathroom and stepped over to the lunch tables. Seated at the end of the first one, Kate was cutting an apple into quarters with one of the knives she carried on her at all times. She flashed him a quick, tired smile as he sat across from her.

  "Afternoon,” Marc said, yawning again.

  "Didn't sleep right?” She cut a thin slice from the quarter she was holding and looked at it as though unsure what to do with it. “Me, neither.” She finally ate the bit of apple, already cutting a second slice, just as thin as the first. “Aaron's leg is broken in three places. The docs put a metal plate along the bones. Screwed them in. He'll need to see Healers soon or he won't be fighting for months."

  He watched her for a little while. At the rate she was eating the apple, it would take her quite a long time to finish. Her eyes never left the fruit as she cut it, not to look at him or at the people around them. They left space around her, he noticed, four of them crowding the other end of the table for a game of cards but leaving enough space for two people next to her and Marc. They were all as careful not to look at her as she was to pretend she was alone.

  Their scents, as a whole, had a subtle pepper smell that tickled Marc's nose. He recognized it easily, even if he couldn't understand it. They were wary of her, the same way they had been wary of Marc and Blake when they had first arrived. Kate's scent, on the other hand, was all too easy to grasp. It held the unpleasant sourness of guilt.

  Marc leaned forward over the table, catching her attention. “It wasn't your fault,” he said quietly but with all the confidence he could summon.

  She shrugged her shoulders and returned her eyes to the apple. Another thin slice came off. “Of course it's not. I didn't slam him into that wall. A demon did."

  He had expected her to argue. This simple acceptance left him at a loss for words, especially since it contradicted so clearly her scent. That did not lie;
she did. He didn't know how to call her on it, though.

  "If anyone is to blame—” he started, very low.

  She cut in, raising her head to look behind him. “Simon, there's a free seat right here."

  From the corner of his eye, Marc saw Simon freeze just a step past him, then slowly turn toward Kate.

  "Oh. Yes, there is. Thanks, Kate."

  He didn't sound all that thankful, and even looked a little reluctant as he walked around the table to go and sit next to Kate. He placed a lunch tray in front of him and picked up his fork, sniffing lightly at the mash of indistinct vegetables on his plate. Like the other fighters, he was very careful not to look at Kate directly, though his eyes fluttered toward her and back every so often. Kate didn't say a word to him or acknowledged his presence. It was all too clear she had only called him to sit by her to stop Marc from trying to comfort her. He held back a sigh. Stubbornness was yet another trait she shared with Blake, though this one wasn't all that attractive.

  Long minutes passed. Kate continued cutting her apple into paper-thin slices. Juice dripped from her fingers and onto the plate in front of her where the other three quarters waited. The sweet green apple scent slowly covered hers, but the sourness remained at the forefront of Marc's thoughts. Like her, he had led others to battle and felt responsible for their injuries. He knew how she felt. He also knew nothing he could say would help, especially if she didn't want to hear it.

  When both Kate and Simon looked up and past him, Marc glanced back to see what had attracted their eyes. His lips tightened into a thin line when he saw Blake, bare-chested and barefoot, walking on to the washroom. At least, Marc thought as he turned back toward the table, Blake was wearing pants. With him, that was never a given.

  Kate's eyes were back on the fruit and knife in her hands, though it seemed to take her a little longer to cut her next slice, and there were two spots of color high on her cheeks. Simon continued to look for a few more seconds, presumably until Blake had disappeared into the bathroom. He noticed, then, that Marc was observing him and let out a little squeaking noise before busying himself with his food again. Marc frowned, slightly taken aback. He had never noticed Simon's interest for Blake until now, but neither his furious blushing nor the thread of lust in his scent could be anything else. It was almost too perfect.

  "He likes men, you know,” he said softly, keeping his eyes on Simon but all too aware that Kate looked up at the same time he did. “And I'm pretty sure he'd be flattered by your interest."

  Simon squeaked again, his blush redoubling as he looked around him to see if anyone was listening. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said very quickly, and before Marc could add a word he picked up his tray and hurried to sit elsewhere.

  "Still want to talk to Daniel about the fog?” Kate asked out of the blue.

  She popped what was left of the apple quarter into her mouth and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

  "Sure. Don't you want to finish your snack first?"

  She speared a second apple quarter with her knife and took a bite from it, then a second one. It took her only moments to finish the apple. Still chewing the last bit, she stood and wiped her knife, blade then handle, onto a napkin before sliding it back in the sheath on her thigh.

  "I'm ready,” she said, wiping her hands as well, before dropping the napkin on the table. “He's in his office. Let's go."

  Exposing their theory to Daniel took only seconds. He was nodding before Kate even finished.

  "I've thought about it myself,” he admitted. “But I'm not too sure how to use that to our advantage."

  "We could start noting how thick the fog is in each street,” Marc suggested. “And when we have some data we can use that to guide us."

  "I suppose,” Daniel said slowly, “although it might be hard to quantify the fog. We'll try tonight and see if it works."

  He looked down at the maps he had been examining when they had entered. The dismissal was clear, though it left Marc a little surprised. Daniel rarely was so abrupt.

  Kate saluted him even though he wasn't looking, before stepping back to the door, her head very stiff as she looked ahead of her. Marc was about to follow her out when Daniel said behind him:

  "Marc?"

  He stopped and looked back. Daniel was still standing by his desk, his hands now behind his back in a posture that made him look like a soldier more than ever.

  "Something wrong?” Marc asked cautiously.

  "Not really. I just wanted to tell you. We're changing teams tonight."

  Marc blinked in surprise. This was the last thing he had expected. “We are? Why?"

  "Because Blake won't listen to me,” Daniel said with a grimace. “But he and Kate are friendly enough. He'll listen to her."

  Eyes wide in incredulity, Marc laughed. “You actually believe that?"

  Daniel didn't reply, merely fixed Marc with unwavering eyes for a few seconds before he said, “We might not look like much, but this is an elite military unit, you know."

  Marc's amusement faded. He wondered what had brought on the remark. “I figured as much."

  "All my soldiers trained since they were little more than kids. They know how to fight. They also know when not to fight."

  Marc started to understand where this was going. He walked back to the desk, standing directly across Daniel. His scent reflected the same determination as his direct gaze.

  "What happened last night...” Daniel paused and sighed. “Three weeks ago, Kate would have called the recon off when those demons went by. Last night, you said go on, and she followed suit. I don't like the influence you have on her."

  "And you think Blake will be any better?” Marc asked very slowly.

  "I think Blake is too wild for her. If he suggests idiotic moves, she won't fall for them."

  Marc thought about it for a little while. He could see Daniel's point, but he could also see the flaws in his plan. Blake had had no reason to play nice for Daniel; it would be different with Kate. She probably wouldn't have to deal with head-on opposition, but what she would get instead would be much more confusing than a few stupid and easily dismissible suggestions.

  "I hope you're right,” he said with a shake of his head. “For all our sakes, I really hope you are."

  If he had thought it would make a difference, he would have argued with Daniel's decision. Ever since the very first days, however, Daniel had made it clear that, even if he was grateful for Marc's help, he intended to remain in command. He would have to see for himself what a terrible idea this was.

  Giving Daniel a mock salute, he started for the door. Again, Daniel stopped him before he could pass it.

  "I've seen the way you look at her."

  He sounded tired now. Marc glanced back at him.

  "And she's starting to look back. She's my best fighter. She's my friend. And I'm not losing her to you. Just so we're clear."

  Marc didn't reply and just walked out, shaking his head in disbelief. He could hardly believe it. Daniel was afraid he would seduce Kate, and his answer was to pair her up with Blake. He could have laughed at the irony of it, if he hadn't been so sure it would only mean trouble.

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  Chapter 10

  Caught between amused and mildly exasperated, Kate forgot her dinner to observe yet another one of Simon's doomed attempts at seduction. For the past three days, he had been finding random excuses to talk to Blake, and didn't seem deterred in the least by Blake's blatant lack of reaction.

  This time, he had crept closer to the far corner of the room where Blake was sharpening his sword. Patrick, whose age kept him away from fighting, had trained as a medic to stay at the camp, and had also become their de facto sword smith. He spent a couple of afternoons every week sharpening the squad's weapons. He usually did so outside as the sound of the sharpening wheel was less than pleasant, but Blake had asked to use it inside, away from the sun. Patrick had offered to sharpen his sword for him.
Blake had almost seemed offended at the idea. In the end, they had put the wheel in a corner of the main building. After five minutes, most members of the squad had deserted the place, taking their dinner trays elsewhere. The grinding sound resonated in the large room and was simply horrible.

  Kate didn't mind; for once, she didn't have to pretend to listen to casual conversations the members of the squad tried to include her in despite her reluctance. Every time she met someone's eyes, she wondered if they still thought about Aaron and were afraid that they would be hurt next because of her. She was afraid of the same thing every time she looked into a mirror, and didn't need to read the same question on their faces.

  She would need to talk to Simon, though, she mused as she watched him make yet another attempt to catch Blake's attention. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could tell Blake limited his answers to a word or two, rarely taking his eyes off his sword as he ground it against the sharpening wheel. Maybe it was time for Simon to get a clue before things started becoming uncomfortable. Romances in the squad were never a good thing, in any case.

  Her mouth twisted at the thought. It was much easier to apply that principle when she wasn't in the equation. No, that wasn't true, she realized. It had always been easy—until the arrival of their vampire guests. It was only now, after she had patrolled without Marc twice, that she saw how easily she had become used to having him around as they patrolled the City, and how much she missed his presence. Part of her wanted to ask Daniel to change the teams back, but she didn't want to have to explain to him why she wanted Marc with her.

  "Your dinner is getting cold. What are you thinking about so intensely?"