Blood Legion: Adamantine Chronicles Book Two

by D. R. Rosier

  “Would you like to come in, I’ve got soda, iced tea, bottled water, and those Starbucks cold coffee drinks.”

  She smirked, “I am curious to see the inside of your apartment.”

  I winked, and said, “I am kind of a slob, but since I have cheating enchantments you’d never know it if I didn’t tell you.”

  She laughed, “I can see that.”

  I frowned, that I was a slob, or that… never mind.

  She just laughed harder at the insulted and confused look on my face, as she patted my shoulder.

  Right, door open. I took care of that, and we moved inside.

  Tina walked in, and gave me a smile, “It’s very nice, different than what I expected. At the same time, it’s definitely you.”

  “Umm, was that a compliment?” I asked as I bent over and popped open the mini-fridge. It was really hard to tell with her.

  She hit me with the same teasing answer as before, “It wasn’t an insult…” and then trailed off, and added, “Iced tea. Snapple peach is my favorite.”

  I had some of those, although I preferred the lemon myself Alyssa liked the peach ones so I kept them stocked, and I pulled two bottles out.

  I twisted off the cover, and I handed it to her.

  She waved her hand at me imperiously, and I grinned as I handed lid over, I thought I was the only one that read those things. I popped mine off, and I took a seat close to her, on her right. Our legs touched, and she didn’t move away, so I took that for a good sign. Still, I doubted I’d be making any moves, our time in bed would have to wait. I wasn’t sure what that would do to the decided upon polyamory quadruple schedule, but I couldn’t fuck her just to maintain the schedule of getting us all in the same bed tomorrow night.

  Even I wasn’t that shallow. Besides, she was really sexy, and I’d hate to not like any sex I had with her. If she didn’t feel the tension herself, the heat, I wouldn’t like it nearly as much. Ninety percent of the pleasure in sex comes from my partner’s experience and enjoyment, at least for me.

  The funny thing was, I was pretty sure she expected me to do just that. She looked determined, and nervous. Yeah, no thanks. I took her hand, as I flipped on the television and threw up a music station. At least with her I knew I couldn’t choose the wrong one, but I picked eighties rock feeling in that mood after the songs we sung at karaoke.

  She smirked, and she wiggled a little closer and moved my hand to her lap. She looked really nervous.

  I opened my mouth and said regretfully, “Tina, I know you…” I trailed off as she covered my mouth with her left hand’s index finger, and then squeezed my hand with her right.

  She swallowed, and then turned her head and looked up into my eyes, “Kiss me, Daniel.”

  There was a strange pleading quality to her words, and she also looked like she was about to walk to the gallows. A slight exaggeration, but it wasn’t the most promising start, it was almost as if she’d dared herself to kiss me, the evil man in the room. Like she had something to prove to herself in some way.

  Screw it. A kiss didn’t mean we had to do more.

  I leaned down slightly, giving her plenty of time to abort, and then for the first time my lips touched the Red Siren’s. They were soft, warm, and a little dry but quite silky smooth. She kissed me back for about two seconds, then she shuddered, and then froze. For about two more seconds, it felt like I was kissing a cold unresponsive fish, and her whole body started to tremble.

  And by tremble, I don’t mean in a good way.

  I stopped, more than a little surprised, and too confused and worried to be insulted that I’d just put her into shock with a simple kiss. I took stock, and she was shivering, and frozen, her eyes were a million miles away, then the bottle of iced tea dropped, bounced, and started to spill out. I reached down and snatched it, and I didn’t bother with the half bottle of iced tea soaking in the rug, it’d be dry and perfectly clean within fifteen minutes.

  Instead, I slammed the bottle on the coffee table along with mine, and then wrapped my arms around her. I wouldn’t have even done that, except she’d been more than fine with my touches all night, and she’d even touched me a few times. It was just the kiss that had triggered this nightmare, and I doubted a man holding her in a comforting way would be in any way a reminder of a bad memory.

  At least, that was my hope.

  She felt cold in arms, there was no way she was faking it, or fucking with me, as her body shivered and her eyes stared blankly ahead. It was probably stupid, but I scooped her up and headed into the bedroom, and I slid her on the bed and under the sheet and blanket. Then I got in with her, fully clothed, and held her against me.

  To my shame, it felt kind of nice, her body was as soft and supple as I’d expected, and her bright red voluminous hair felt like spun silk against my cheek, the scent of her was a bit distracting too, but it really didn’t affect me, my cock didn’t stir at all, I just kind of noted it in the back of my head as I tried not to freak out.

  Blankets, check. Warm body next to her shocked cold one, check. I wasn’t sure what to do at that point, so I started to croon to her, and I said her name a few times in as a gentle voice as I could manage. I also stroked her hair lightly, while my other arm held her gently but firmly to my side. I decided that if she didn’t snap out of it soon, I’d run and go get the others. Thank goodness I knew they were here, but I was sure Alyssa and Carol were up to something very acrobatic, naughty, and pleasurable in that moment.

  Then she blinked, tried to pull away for two seconds, and then all at once collapsed against me before I could let her go. Then she started to sob against my neck. I was so out of my depth I didn’t even know where to start, so I just kept crooning and caressing her hair, and telling her she was safe.

  She stared to sob that she was sorry, over and over, and I told her over and over there was nothing to be sorry for. Then she snorted, and blubbered out, “Yes there is, I just haven’t told you about it yet.”

  Oh. I was so confused by that statement, and there were all these feelings in my chest. I wanted to love her until she was okay, which I knew wouldn’t work and was just absurd. I wanted to hold her, protect her, and soothe her fears which seemed to be doing okay for the moment.

  But the most shocking thing I felt of all, was the dark raging fury I felt, toward whatever worthless son of a bitch had done this to her, the one that had broken her so thoroughly she couldn’t even kiss a man she admired without going into shock. I was also curious why she’d wanted to do so, to try so hard to be with me, when she was clearly terrified by the idea.

  I was too confused though, I tried not to make any judgements about what she said until I understood. The biggest confusion I had, was this was all her idea, she was the one that seduced and talked Alyssa into trying polyamory, like Oracle’s Maidens. Why would she do that, if she couldn’t even kiss me without breaking down? That made no sense at all.

  After a time, her crying jag quieted down, and she sniffled, “I’m sorry Daniel, I ruined everything. I’m so sorry, I misjudged you, and now I’m going to pay for it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She seemed mostly better, she’d stopped shaking, and the color had returned to her face. She also didn’t look like she had any intentions of moving, and I was fine with that too. She had a very nice body after all, and her huge and firm double Ds were smashed into my side and chest, it was hardly unpleasant.

  I also cut myself some slack for the shallow thought, what I did mattered far more. They didn’t call it honor, integrity, and character because it was easy. They called it that because of men that did the right thing despite the shallow and selfish temptations. The words would be meaningless, if it didn’t take iron willpower and unshakeable morality to live up to them.

  She didn’t answer me for a long time, and when she did it was both nonsensical, and shocking.

  “My mother was a crack whore. That’s where my story starts. I don’t know who my father was, pro
bably some dealer that decided she could fuck him for her fix, instead of paying money. I take after her you see, and men love the big tits.”

  “What…” She shushed me, and didn’t look at me in the face, just spoke against my neck and shoulder the whole time, as if ashamed.

  “I need to tell you this, or you’ll never forgive me for the truth. Not even you. I owe you the truth. When I was a little girl, my mother was still a crack addict, but she’d married a fisherman, who worked off the coast of Seattle. You know I’m from there originally, Seattle? Anyway, he was gone for a week or two at a time, sometimes longer at the peak of the season. He was an evil man, a perfect match for my mother. When they ran low on cash, or needed drugs, he would pimp her out, and she’d be a good little whore and fuck for money and drugs.

  “He also used to beat her and abuse her at home. At times, he would share her with his buddies, as I hid in my bedroom closet and listened to the horror of the slaps and the men laughing at her, and demanding she suck or fuck harder.”

  My stomach felt sick, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear anymore. No, I was sure I didn’t want to hear anymore, but she needed me to listen.

  She took a deep breath, “I used to beg my mother to run away, but she wouldn’t hear of it. It was just a game after all, and it got her the drugs she needed. He kept her supplied, and she actually told me he kept her safe from other men. He was a piece of work.

  “Anyway, that was about the time I started to read fairy tales, I was pretty damned young. You know the horrifying tale about the evil sirens, who lure sailors to their deaths on the rocks?”

  She paused for a second, but then started back up before I could answer her.

  “To me, it wasn’t horrifying at all, it was a symbol of deliverance and hope. I used to pray for it, that the sirens would drown my father, and save my mother and me. The bastard hit me sometimes, called me a worthless mini-whore. I guess that’s really fucked up, but I guess that wish, and that inner desire stuck, because look what I’ve become.

  “But… I jumped ahead. I know, intelligently, that not all men are like my father, but all the men I knew as a child were his sick twisted friends, who all thought alike, used and took women who were strung out on drugs, used them, and tossed them aside.

  “I bet you already know where I’m going with this. At thirteen, my tits went to Cs overnight, and grew out to double D within four months. That was about the time the sick bastard started to notice me, in that way. God knows I hate to defend him, but at least he wasn’t a pedophile, he’d waited until I was physically mature if still way too young.

  “My worthless mother not only didn’t stop him, but she suggested they could make even more drug money if they whored me out. I tried to object, and he hit me, I even tried to run once, that time he broke a rib, two fingers, and burned a scar on the bottom of my foot. I fought, Daniel, I really did, but after that I did whatever he wanted.

  “For four years, I was his fuck toy, and his little underage whore. No better than my mother.”

  That was bullshit, she was just a child, but I knew any objection in that moment wouldn’t be welcome, or even believed. I was also so horrified I struggled not to be physical sick.

  Then it hit me, and I gasped.

  She laughed darkly, with self-contempt, “Took you long enough, thirteen plus four is seventeen. I didn’t pop until I was seventeen. After three years, I was used to it. I hated it, hated him, and hated myself for being weak, and most of all I despised my mother for being a weak crack whore, but I was too scared, too cowed, and had been beaten too much. I also knew my life wasn’t threatened, they wanted to fuck me, abuse me, sell my body and favors, but they’d never threatened my life.”

  She sighed, “What changed at that time, was I looked grown up. The age of consent is sixteen in Seattle, and while prostitution is illegal, they suddenly couldn’t sell me for a night for any more money than any other whore on the street. I wasn’t worth enough anymore, because I wasn’t a nubile young teen, with a rocking body and a face that looked like it belonged in junior high.

  “Point was, my step-father couldn’t make all that money anymore, and my worthless mother suggested they throw me out, because I was a waste of a mouth to feed. Of course, I was seventeen, and she was thirty-five. I was no longer underage, but I was still the younger and hotter version. My step-father made a cold choice, he had me trained just as well to suck his dick, and ride his cock, so he turned on my mother and beat her to death.

  “Then the son of bitch said I was his now, the woman of the house, and that I should mind my place. Then he told me he was going to knock me up, to replace what I’d been for him, and he went on and on about how our daughter would replace me as his meal ticket, and I’d just be his and his friend’s private whore at that point.

  “I think my mother’s death broke something in me, because I wasn’t sad, I was happy the bitch was dead, I was also terrified of the future he painted. I tried to run again, for the first time in four years, even after all the beatings, I tried to run. Because I saw my future, in my glassy mother’s eyes, and I didn’t want to live like that, I couldn’t.

  “Predictably, he lost it. Called me worthless and ungrateful, for all he’d done for me. Can you even imagine? Then he started beating me to death. He lost it, I’d seen him in rages before, and I truly feared death instead of torture for the first time. I felt my jaw break, and several ribs crack, my head rang and swam, it was ugly, and I was panicked. That was the moment I quickened, it healed all my wounds, turned my hair from brown to a beautiful bright red, and then I felt it within me.”

  She swallowed, and then whispered, “I sang my father to the rocks, I sang him to his death.”

  I looked down at her, and pulled her closer, “You mean?”

  She nodded and sniffled, “No one knows. Not even the supervillains I worked for, I never told them the truth, I pushed it down so far that she couldn’t even read it from my mind. My voice can… not just enslave, it can kill. Not even Carol knows, she knows the rest of my story, the rest of my life, but I left that one thing out. I don’t know why I told you.

  “But… it was the first and last time I ever took a life with my song. With my power I didn’t need to kill anymore, even as a supervillain, I’d never killed anyone. If I had, I doubt the prosecutor would have agreed to the deal Oracle made on my behalf, and of course quelling a prison riot at the Lonestar supermax certainly helped.

  “So that’s my story, that’s who I am. I’m sorry I froze like that, he used to kiss me like that, soft and sweet, right before he slapped the shit out of me. Like some kind of sick apology before he acted. It was like I was there again, I’m so sorry.”

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I was horrified, and I wanted to tell her none of it was her fault, that she was precious, and lovely. None of that should’ve happened to her, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me.

  “It wasn’t your fault, and those evil men are in the minority. All of them should be shot.”

  She sighed, “I know all that, but at the same time my gut, my feelings, refuse to believe it. I’m… broken, half healed, with a shallow veneer of confidence. I could’ve run away. I had opportunities, but I was too afraid, too scared the police wouldn’t believe me and he’d get me back. My mother would have said I was sick, and a liar, they wouldn’t have believed me. But… fuck, I should’ve.”

  I shushed her and caressed her hair.

  She said in soft voice, “What scares me the most, is that if he hadn’t tried to kill me, if he hadn’t gone into a rage, and if he’d just beaten me in punishment like he usually did… I wonder if I’d have had that little girl for him, I was already like my mother in every other way after all.”

  She shuddered.

  “I already told you I was a supervillain, here’s the short version. When I fled my parent’s house, I had no idea the cops would’ve helped me, no one came for me like you went for Mara. I sang my way into a few robberies just for a
little cash to eat, was on my own for about three years living in alleys and breaking into houses to take showers during the day and steal clothes. Then I was noticed by a supervillain called Harbinger, who’d just popped a few days before. I worked for her for seven years, until all that shit happened last year, and I changed sides.

  “Really though, I was ready, Oracle’s speech to me outside of a bank shamed me, and I think that’s when I stopped punishing myself for my past, and I decided to start making up for it instead. If he’d given that speech a year before that, I’d have flipped him off and forgotten it, he just had good timing. The Maidens helped me too, they all have similar stories to mine, if not quite as twisted, it was close enough. So, here we are.”

  I sighed, “I’m sorry that all happened, I really don’t know what to say, everything seems so… not enough.”

  She sighed, “I’m not done yet, I still haven’t told you why I started all this, when I knew I’d never be able to sleep with you without puking, apparently I can’t even kiss you.”

  “I won’t take that personally, I’m shocked you’re so calm even in my arms.”

  She laughed bitterly, “Do you think he ever held me like this? I admire you, and this is warm, toasty, and your scent is actually comforting. Maybe it isn’t a lost cause, but you’ll have to work with me, if you can even forgive me that is.”

  I frowned, “What did you do?”

  She said, “It started about two weeks ago. I was disgusted by the way Alyssa was acting, and I was sure you were just playing her for wild sex with a barely legal teen. I need you to believe that, what I did was fucked up, what I planned to do is fucked up, but I did it because I really believed that about you at the time. It’s why, or at least one of the reasons, I told you my story.”

  I nodded, and caressed her back as I braced myself, I felt nothing but compassion for her, and an anger for a dead man that I couldn’t kill. I figured I was about to get very angry, given her build up, but hoped that emotion helped me deal with it, and understand.