Lovers Awakening

by R. A. Steffan

  If I’m staying here, then I’ll damned well make myself at home, she thought bitterly, as the water churned up mountains of fragrant blue bubbles, rising to cover her body. When the water was lapping over her collarbones, the bubbles tickling her chin, she turned off the tap and sank back with a sigh.

  Good God. Trust me to find the only smoking hot vampire on the planet with a conscience.

  Intellectually, she knew she should have been terrified by what had almost happened. She also knew that she had some pretty deep-seated issues centered around thrill-seeking and recklessness. If he hadn’t stopped, could he have killed her accidentally? A dream image flashed across her mind for a bare instant, too quickly for her to grab hold of it. A shiver wracked her despite the warm water cocooning her body, but she dismissed it.

  Eris would not have hurt her.

  The phantom touch of fangs on skin made her tremble again, but for a different reason. He would not have hurt her in any way she wouldn’t have thoroughly enjoyed, she amended.

  The thought was too much for her overwrought libido, which rose up and demanded satisfaction after the last hour of slow torture followed by sexual frustration. She closed her eyes, letting memories of Eris’ touch play across her mind’s eye.

  He would have continued teasing her vulnerable throat until she finally growled, and rolled him off the couch to wrestle for dominance on the thick, luxurious carpet. Although she would give him a good fight, he would win, pinning her on her back with her wrists above her head, held firmly in one of his large hands.

  With the other, he’d peel off her clothing, baring her to his gaze. Rather than take the time to undress himself, he would merely unfasten his fly, pulling his erection free. Would he be dripping precome for her? Her mouth watered, and she decided that, oh yes, he definitely would.

  Her fingers slid down her belly, missing the electric tingle that his touch always spread along her nerves.

  They would both be too impatient for further foreplay. He would pin her down and cover her body with his, lining himself up and thrusting into her hard enough to make them both gasp.

  Her fingers slid along the folds of tender flesh between her legs and slipped inside, her passage slick with excitement despite the bathwater.

  He wouldn’t be gentle, and neither would she, dragging fingernails roughly across his back and urging him deeper with her heels pressed into his tight, perfect ass. He would pound into her until she screamed, and when they were both about to come, he would drag her head to the side and sink his teeth into her neck, sending them both over the edge.

  Trynn pressed the heel of her hand hard against her clit and rocked, biting her lip to hold in the cry as her long-denied orgasm crashed over her. When her shudders finally quieted and she sank back against the edge of the tub, exhausted, she realized that her teeth had drawn blood.

  *

  Half an hour later, she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, feeling much better disposed toward the world even though things were probably going to be awkward as hell now. Trynn glanced around the suite, looking for Eris. Instead, she saw Snag standing looking thoughtfully out of the suite’s large picture window into the darkness beyond.

  Wrapping her robe more securely around herself, she cleared her throat.

  With a painfully slow movement, Snag turned and stared at her with his large, dark eyes. He rarely seemed to need to blink, and considered her silently for so long that she became unnerved.

  “Where’s Eris?” she asked.

  Snag did not answer.

  Right. Either he really hates me for some reason, or he actually can’t speak, Trynn decided as Snag continued to regard her solemnly. Let’s just assume option number two, until proven otherwise.

  “Okay, never mind,” she amended. “I’ll just go to bed now, and get out of your hair.” Her eyes lifted to his bald head, and she flushed in embarrassment. “If you, erm, had any hair, which obviously you… don’t. Sorry about that.”

  Just as she started to turn and slink away in shame toward the sleeping alcove, Snag lifted a skeletal hand and pointed at a piece of paper on the desk.

  A note? Trynn kept her eyes warily on the ancient being in front of her and walked towards the desk. Still not looking away from him, she fumbled until she felt the piece of paper under her fingers. Grabbing it, she took several slow steps backwards.

  He considered her for a moment longer before turning back towards the window.

  Trynn felt the breath exit her lungs once those cold eyes were no longer pinning her like a captured butterfly. She took the paper into the alcove where Eris had slept that afternoon and sat down on the edge of the bed. Breathing in his smell all around her, she read the short note.

  Trynn,

  I am truly sorry about earlier. I know I was abrupt, but I don’t believe I could have stopped myself from getting carried away. Your presence is intoxicating and I think I would have lost myself in instinctual desires. I’m in no way willing to take that chance with your safety.

  I’m going out to get a bite to eat (ha!) and will return shortly. I asked Snag to watch over things while I’m away. If you happen to play chess, you could probably convince him to start a game. He’s an elite Grandmaster with a rating of 2800, so he’s very good, to put it mildly.

  I’ve added you as a guest in the suite and cleared you to order anything you would like from room service, so please don’t hesitate to get food if you’re hungry or anything else you may need. Expense is no object, so if there is something you would like, order it.

  Sincerely yours,

  Eris

  Her stomach grumbled. Trynn realized with a start that she was absolutely famished, and had not eaten anything all day long.

  Oddly, she felt more comfortable with Snag, knowing now that he did something as ordinary as play chess, so she walked casually back towards the desk and picked up the room service menu.

  Running her finger down the list of dishes, Trynn thought that she was hungry enough to eat every single one of them.

  When was the last time she’d had a really good meal? Thinking back over the last few days only presented her with confusing memories that all seemed to run together. She could not remember what the hell she’d eaten, or if she’d eaten much of anything at all.

  Resisting the temptation to order a bottle of wine, Trynn requested the most expensive dish on the menu be delivered to the room as soon as possible.

  After wolfing down the food—delicious, but extremely spicy—Trynn found herself feeling full and sleepy again. She didn’t really want to go to bed until Eris had returned, so she sat in the living room watching Snag out of the corner of her eye. He remained standing at the window, staring out into the night with a fixed expression on his gaunt features. She didn’t think he’d moved or made a single sound since he’d pointed out the note from Eris.

  “Snag?” she asked tentatively, eager to break the silence. “How long have you known Eris?”

  The older vampire turned his head towards her but did not speak. He did not look angry or challenging, he simply gazed at her with a neutral expression.

  She raised her eyebrows at him as if to encourage him to speak, but he remained unmoved.

  She cleared her throat. “Look, I understand if you don’t really like me, but I’m getting the impression that we’re going to be stuck here together for a while. It would probably be easier if we could get along and interact, you know.”

  Snag remained completely silent and still. He didn’t appear to even be breathing, which… yeah. Was a bit unnerving.

  Thinking about Eris’ note, she walked over to the table where a chessboard was set up, ready and waiting. She’d played chess for years online in various tournaments and considered herself to be decent. Of course, if Snag was as good as Eris said he was, she was no match for him. But it was still something to do.

  Sitting down, Trynn considered the board for a moment before looking up at the silent specter and jerking her head towards the se
at across from her.

  “Do you want to play?” she asked, fully expecting him to remain like a statue by the window, regardless of what Eris had said.

  To her surprise, however, Snag immediately walked over and lowered himself into the chair. He moved with an easy grace that she would not have expected, as if his feet were as light as air. He barely made a sound or caused the cushions in the chair to rustle as he sank down across from her.

  She chose white, which always went first in a match.

  They started to play at an easy pace. She did not press Snag to talk again, respecting his desire for silence even as the game became more heated.

  Within ten moves, she was beaten, and tipped her king in defeat. Without a word, she put the pieces back in place, and they played again. She was able to hold out for thirteen moves in the second game. By the third, she had lasted fourteen moves.

  Eris hadn’t been joking. In fact, Trynn was willing to bet that he’d been going easy on her to extend the games.

  The contest went some way toward thawing the ice between the two of them, and she studied Snag closely across the table. Even though he was a terrifying, spectral creature with nearly translucent skin covered in scars, no hair, and large, dark eyes that almost seemed to glow from within, Trynn could sense a kind of sadness in him. She wondered if he, too, had lost someone dear to him in the distant past.

  When their eyes met briefly over the chessboard, she felt for a moment that she was seeing past the icy exterior, into the heart beneath. Though she couldn’t have said why, she got the impression, before Snag’s shutters fell shut again, that he was consumed with worry over Eris.

  Again, she wondered how long the pair had known each other. If he was to be believed, Eris was nearly two thousand years old, and compared to him, Snag looked ancient. How old was he? What had he seen across all those countless centuries?

  If Snag did have a heart buried under that impassive exterior, you wouldn’t have known it by his style of play, which was highly aggressive, brutal, and unforgiving. His motions were sharp and each time he captured one of her pieces, he knocked it off the board with a tightly controlled vehemence that suggested it had done him a personal wrong. His gaze was intense, a scowl fighting to slide over his features every so often, only to be carefully suppressed before it could fully surface.

  He was an enigma, and she could barely read him at all. Educational though the chess games had been, she wished that Eris would return to break the tension. They were in a lull between games, and Snag was currently sitting in the chair across from her with his eyes closed meditatively. Trynn wondered if he were thinking, or listening carefully to the sounds of life around them. Every now and then, she could detect the muffled slam of a door down the hallway, and knew that people were coming and going from their rooms, despite the lateness of the hour. It was a bit comforting, really—evidence that she hadn’t truly fallen down the rabbit hole.

  Beyond the door, life continued as normal.

  Exhaustion was once more creeping up on her, but she knew that sleep wouldn’t come until Eris returned. Indeed, she had no idea where she was even supposed to sleep. Even though she and Eris had started to act on the overwhelming desire possessing them, it still seemed foolish to assume she would be sharing his bed that night—especially after what had happened earlier.

  Of course, if he was a vampire, maybe he wouldn’t sleep at night anyway? She’d seen him sleeping—or just awoken—during the day on three separate occasions now. Perhaps they could switch off with the bed. Still, it seemed rude to assume.

  Maybe she would just go grab a pillow and blanket and curl up on the couch. It had been comfortable enough when she’d fallen asleep on it earlier.

  Giving up on her musings for the moment, Trynn retrieved Eris’ ancient laptop and sat back down to scan the web. She needed more information to give to Eris, who clearly intended to do something about the situation with the arms dealer and their mystery man, Kovac. Though she had no idea what action he could reasonably take.

  Without her own computer, she could not access the MASQUE portal, although she was able to see the public information forum and know that several of her fellow hackers were intent on following the lead she’d provided.

  Wishing she could go back to her hotel and get her stuff, Trynn finally succumbed to the combination of boredom and curiosity, and broke through the light security on Eris’ email account. Knowing that she was pushing her luck with a man she had barely known for twenty-four hours, Trynn scanned through his recent emails. Her eyes were drawn to the subject line—charmingly titled ‘Don’t be an idiot’—of personal correspondence from someone called Tré. She opened it.

  Eris,

  We’re headed your way, but travel from the US to Cyprus is very limited right now, so soon after the coordinated pipe bomb attacks at JFK and La Guardia. We’re attempting to get something out of LAX instead, but it will delay us for an additional day or so. With luck, we’ll be able to get a flight out of here sometime late tomorrow. Please don’t do anything stupid before we get there.

  Tré

  A sense of foreboding settled over Trynn like a blanket, smothering her.

  “Snag, come look at this,” she said quietly.

  She heard no noise of approach, but looked up to find Snag’s pale face looming over her shoulder, his dark eyes staring unblinkingly at the computer screen. Something in his features seemed to harden as he skimmed over the message, confirming her fears.

  “He’s done something stupid, hasn’t he?” she whispered.

  Trynn stared up at her guard, willing him to speak. It was in vain, however, as Snag made no comment, but only straightened and returned to his place by the window.

  Trynn leaned back in her chair, weariness making her limbs feel heavy.

  He’s out there somewhere, all by himself. How do I know he’s safe?

  An instant later, another thought rose up. What does it matter? I barely know this guy. Why should I be obsessed with his safety? He can probably take care of himself, anyway.

  The internal arguments chased each other around her overtired brain. She felt dizzy, and knew that she needed sleep more than anything in that moment.

  I want to stay awake and make sure he gets back all right.

  Don’t be stupid. He’s nothing to you. Get some sleep while you can. Besides, he’ll wake you when he gets back.

  Pressing her fingers against her pounding temples, Trynn let out a little growl of frustration before getting up and stumbling towards the sleeping alcove. She no longer cared if it was proper or weird. She no longer cared if Eris showed up later and wanted to speak with her. Trynn’s body was demanding sleep, and she could do nothing more to fight it tonight.

  Trynn threw herself gracelessly onto the foot of the California King-sized bed. She crawled up towards the headboard and managed to pull down the covers so she could crawl under them. It was soft and warm, and the sheets smelled of Eris as she buried her face into his pillow. With a heavy sigh, Trynn immediately dropped off to sleep.

  This time, however, instead of a room full of priceless artifacts and a man who loved her, Trynn fell into restless dreams full of impenetrable darkness and distant screaming carried on the wind.

  ELEVEN

  BASTIAN KICKED ASIDE a broken pallet and lowered himself onto a dusty couch with large slashes across the cushions. He brushed dust off his dark suit and tilted his head first to one side, then the other, feeling the satisfying crack of his neck.

  Looking up, he found that he was being watched dutifully by a hoard of his men, their blank, dead eyes glittering in the semi-darkness.

  “It is nearly time, my friends,” he crooned. None of them responded to the words, or even blinked. In most cases, he had made sure to utterly annihilate their individuality, plunging them into the darkness and evil that flowed through the fabric of the world. Bastian had chosen each one carefully from humanity’s dregs—the desperate and the destitute—and they had not resiste
d his call. Now, their souls were forever trapped, and their bodies were vessels for his master’s will.

  “Soon, we will take delivery of our precious cargo. Then begins a reign of destruction that will transform this world into our master’s kingdom.” Bastian could not keep the growing exultation from his voice. It was his dream to stand beside his master and rule at his right hand. He would be the most honored servant. Beloved. Held more dearly than a son.

  Bloodlust rushed into his fevered brain as he thought of what they could do, once the world was theirs. It was a wonderful feeling, and his excitement threatened to spill over. Sensing the growing storm within him, his slaves grew restless. The mental energy he was using to ensure they did his bidding grew frenetic, and their limbs twitched under its pull.

  Calm yourself, dog.

  Bael’s command echoed through his being, sending a shiver down his spine. He immediately clamped down on his frenzied emotions, forcing the undead in the room back under control. Keeping his mania bottled up was difficult. Bastian felt crazed, and longed to take it out on some helpless living thing. He knew, however, that his master would be displeased if he disobeyed a direct order.

  To stay focused, he pulled out the itinerary that the Russian, Timur, had provided for delivery of the bombs. Bastian was expecting five individually wrapped and sealed crates containing the portable nuclear devices. He had agents standing by, ready to transport them to various cities around the region for simultaneous detonation.

  The sixth device would be delivered separately to his agent in central Damascus. There was little point in bringing it out here to the war-damaged neighborhoods east of the city, just so they could turn around and take it back to the government district a day later. It would be detonated outside of the Parliament building for the Syrian People’s Council. The resulting deaths would produce the maximum possible destabilizing effect in a country already torn by conflict and fighting.

  Wild giddiness threatened to overpower him once more as he felt Bael’s power pulse around him. It was nearly their moment. Nearly their time to rule.