Lust Born

by Jacquie Underdown

  As though sensing her attention, he faces her and their eyes lock. His irises have lightened to the color of milky coffee and are capable of melting Ariana on the inside. Her belly tightens and heart patters. Her gaze drops to his lips. She’d give anything to lean into him, run her tongue over his lush bottom lip, and taste his mouth. Such a delicious energy he exudes. It throbs outward from him and she assimilates it. Her breasts ache and swell against her bra. She crosses her legs and squeezes her thighs together.

  Without any volition of her own, she grips his hard thigh. His breaths grow heavier, chest rising and falling. A darkened erotic haze mists around him, onto her skin, and into her lungs. She slides down his thigh to his hand, which is resting on his knee, and runs her fingers over his and entwines them with hers. They are rough and hard, conditioned for battling and sword wielding. The energy soaring up her arm burns through her body and shortens her breath.

  She floats closer, her face to his, her lips gently parting, anticipating…

  “So we’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us,” comes Reid’s booming voice.

  She jolts and snaps out of the trance where time and place doesn’t exist and it is only her and Hadeon.

  Ariana peers up at the rearview mirror. Reid’s glaring back. She catches the hard look, the slightly narrowed eyes, and the furrowed brow he casts in Hadeon’s direction. Hadeon rumbles deep from his chest like an agitated panther, pulls his hand away from Ariana’s, and faces the window.

  Ariana crosses her arms over her chest and shifts further toward the door. Indignation burns up her neck to her cheeks. She clenches her fists under her arms and her lips twist into a snarl. From lust to fury in three seconds flat—the Hadeon effect.

  The cover of night follows them through the winding roads of the Scotland Highlands. The last half-hour of their trip is over gritty dirt roads, which bend through vast black fields spotted with rocky outcrops. Eventually, they stop at a large stone house with orange light burning through the windows.

  They climb out of the car and the wind whips through Ariana’s jacket. She wraps her arms around her middle, teeth chattering so violently she could break a tooth if she didn’t tense her jaw. But soon enough they are led into the house by a short, gray-haired woman with cotton-white skin and shamrock-green eyes.

  The house’s warmth drapes around Ariana like a fluffy blanket and she sighs. The old lady leads them to the kitchen, consisting of long, timber counters and a fired-up, old vintage oven, which contributes to the warmth emanating from the fireplace in the living room. She places a kettle on the stovetop and sits at the kitchen table with Ariana, Hadeon, and Reid.

  “So,” she says in a thin Scottish accent. “This is the lass?”

  Hadeon nods.

  The old lady smiles. “Very much like her mother, but she has her father’s eyes.”

  Ariana’s breath catches. Her face flushes and is tingly light. “You knew my parents?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Ariana becomes teary. Not one soul in her entire life has known anything about her parents except that they died when she was only a baby. “How did you know them? Did they live here in Scotland? Is this my heritage?”

  The old woman’s face droops. An ancient sadness overtakes her features and her lips are forced into a frown. “Your father was my son,” she says and looks away.

  “So you…you’re my…” Ariana’s voice cracks and a tear rolls down her cheek. She licks at it when it touches her lips. “You’re my grandmother?”

  The old woman nods, tears welling in her eyes. “You were but a small t’ing when I saw you last.” Her bottom lip trembles. She drops her gaze to the table top and slides the chair out, scraping along the stone floor. She stands, not raising her gaze again, and scurries over to the oven.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset anyone,” Ariana says.

  Hadeon looks at her. “Old memories. That’s all. Sometimes they still have the power to take one’s breath away.”

  Ariana nods. She has so many questions to ask, about her mother and father, about what happened to them, and about her own life. Why did no one take her into their care? But she can see it’s deeply emotional ground, and she will need to tread carefully.

  Five more men stroll in and greet Reid and Hadeon. They are enormous brutes with brawny bodies, dark brown eyes, and the beastly quality about them. She remembers that these are the same men from the bar where she sprained her ankle.

  What the hell is going on?

  Hadeon watches her reaction. Her expression is one of question. He shrugs and looks away, denying her any answers tonight. How very typical of Hadeon.

  She breathes hard and deep, her eyes smarting with the need for sleep. The emotions twisting through her body are jumbled, coiling and rebounding against each other. She doesn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh. Needing to move, to do anything, something, she stands and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “If you can tell me where I’ll be sleeping tonight, I’d like to go to bed.”

  The room falls to silence.

  “Lass, are you sure you don’t want some tea and food? You’ve traveled a long way.”

  She shakes her head. “I’d just like to go to bed. I’m…” Ariana wipes the wetness from her cheeks. Damn tears. “I’m exhausted,” she manages, throat aching and words weak.

  Hadeon stands. His face is hard, steely, like all the other men in the room. He nods toward the doorway and walks ahead. Ariana follows. He leads her down a long hall with rooms off to each side and into a small room with a single bed and a thick woolen blanket. A colorful rug lies across the floor. A small dresser with a mirror sits against one wall, and a tiny window covered with cream-colored curtains is above the bed.

  Hadeon stands at the door and gestures toward the bed. When she sits, he closes the door and joins her.

  “This is not what I imagined,” she says, voice shaking.

  “What’s that?”

  “Meeting a family member. I didn’t think any existed. It’s surreal. But I always imagined there’d be hugs and laughter, not tears and…” She lowers her head in her hands and rubs her face. “I’m just so exhausted I’m questioning reality right now.”

  “You need to sleep then. We’ll deal with all this tomorrow.”

  She nods, and Hadeon tenses his legs to stand, but she grabs his wrist. “What’s going on? Those men out there, they’re from the bar.”

  He speaks softly. “They’re my brothers.”

  “Brothers?”

  “Not technically. We’ve the same lineage and are from the same House.”

  “Were you all stalking me? What’s this about?” she asks, her words spoken quickly.

  “No one has stalked you, for Christ’s sake. We’ve been keeping you safe. That’s all. Everyone in this house is here to help you, Ariana.”

  She shakes her head, her gaze flicking over his face. “Help me what?”

  “Get back to Fiore alive.”

  Chapter 14

  The room is bathed in light when Ariana wakes. She sits up in her bed, the scent of burning timber strong in her nostrils. Knowing a fireplace is stoked brings comforting warmth. She lifts her curtains to the side and peers outside at the vast undulating fields of green, dotted with rocky outcrops, extending to eternity. To the left, in the distance, is an enormous loch surrounded by sheer cliffs, and above is the piercing blue sky threaded with white clouds.

  “Beautiful,” she whispers.

  Despite the tumultuous past day, or perhaps because of it, she slept deeply and soundly. She needed the rest. Her frame of mind and emotions are stronger for it.

  Ariana showers, changes, and heads out to meet the others. They are sitting around the kitchen table with mounds of food resembling a bizarrely hued garden in front of them.

  Granny peers up with her kind, wrinkled face. She smiles. “Ariana, glad you can join us.” She gestures to the seat at the end of the table.

  Ariana stares at a
ll the burly man-monsters after Granny introduces her to each of them, and she giggles.

  “I don’t understand what’s so funny,” says Granny.

  Ariana laughs now. “I’m just wondering how the hell you’re going to feed all these men.”

  Granny smiles. “With a lot of effort. Now dig in.”

  Ariana stares at the food as the men load towers onto their plates.

  “Go ahead. It won’t bite,” says Reid.

  “I’ve never seen…”

  Hadeon grabs the tongs and shovels slices of dark red, blue, and pink flowers and stems onto her plate. “Try that.”

  She takes her fork and stabs it into a blue flower. She lifts it to her mouth and bites. The consistency is like melting chocolate as blue slides along her tongue. It pops and sizzles. The flavor, sweet yet salty, explodes in her mouth. She moans with pleasure, grabs another flower, and pushes it onto her tongue, chewing fast.

  The men and Granny watch her with rapt attention, and though she can sense their attention, she doesn’t pay them any heed, too engrossed in popping variety after variety into her mouth. Her body buzzes as the food fuels her. She is made for this food; this food is made for her. Ariana licks her lips and the table breaks into laughter.

  “I take it you like it?” asks Hadeon.

  “I’ve never tasted anything so amazing. My body is literally sizzling from this. I can feel the nourishment working through my cells and muscles.”

  “You’ll never want to eat Earth food again,” says the tallest, biggest brother of them all, Domascus.

  She arches her eyebrows. “This isn’t Earth food?”

  He shakes his head. “We cultivate it here, but the seeds and soil are from Fiore. Your body will transform just by eating this.”

  She flings the purple stem she’s holding inches from her mouth onto her plate. “I won’t get all gigantic like you guys, will I?”

  Again they burst into laughter, deep rumblings reverberating around the room.

  “No,” says Granny. “These lads are Warriors—it’s in their blood to be big.”

  Ariana looks at each of them with their broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and dark brown eyes. “Warriors?” she whispers.

  Granny frowns at Hadeon. “Have you not told her anything about you?”

  Hadeon shrugs. “It wasn’t vital to her survival that she knows. And I hate questions.”

  “She needs to be prepared.”

  Ariana’s stomach clenches. “Prepared for what?”

  Granny stands and picks up her empty plate. “For what you’re required to do once you’re back in Fiore.”

  “What am I required to do?”

  “Well, for one, you’ll need to master your magic. Hurry up, this needs to start now or we’re going to run out of time.”

  Ariana stands and looks around. “Start what?”

  “Your training. As a Fioren woman, you must be well versed in the arts.”

  “So when you say ‘woman’, do you mean that men don’t have to know such things?”

  She shakes her head. “They learn how to fight.”

  Ariana thinks of the Soul Seekers, the Hounds, all the attacks on her, and how vulnerable she was because she couldn’t defend herself. “I want to learn both. In case my magic fails me, which it has in the past. I need to learn both.”

  The Warriors’ heads snap up, except for Hadeon, who keeps his focus on his plate.

  Granny grins. “So, lassie wants to learn to fight too, does she?”

  Ariana nods. “Just basic things, like how to throw a punch properly, how to defend myself, and how to use a sword.”

  “Oh, right, basic things like that,” says Granny, each syllable saturated in sarcasm as she waddles to the kitchen sink and rinses off her plate.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Reid says.

  Ariana’s fists squeeze at her sides. She clenches her jaw and looks hard at Reid. “Oh, and why’s that? Because I’m a girl?”

  “Well, yeah,” he says, bemused by her sudden burst of anger. “Look at the size of me compared to you. I could snap your neck—”

  Hadeon stands abruptly, his chair scratching against the floor. His fist slams onto the table. His face is hard, and his emotions have darkened his eyes. “Do not speak as such,” he yells, voice booming in the small room. Ariana holds her breath.

  Reid stands, plants his palms on the tabletop, and leans closer to Hadeon. “I was trying to prove a point.”

  “Not like that,” says Hadeon, anger radiating off him in waves and pulsing through the room.

  Reid slides down onto his chair and nods.

  Hadeon remains standing. “If she wants to learn how to defend herself, then she will learn.”

  Granny rests a hand on her hip and sighs. “Fine. But you better not come to my classes all bruised and bloody.”

  Ariana swallows hard, then shakes her head. “I sure hope not.”

  “Come on, lass,” says Granny. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  * * * *

  Magic depletes a woman’s life force, especially one unfamiliar with magic. After each long day learning how to create fire on the palm of her hand, conjure storms to rage across the landscape, contain animals, combust trees, levitate objects, levitate people, turn land to water, water to ice, objects to ice, mist, frogs, mice or any other form conceivable, she is exhausted. And combat training is at the bottom of her desires. Perhaps this is Granny’s plan. But regardless, Ariana always drags her body to training. She’s not giving in on this point, no matter how much it pains her.

  “It will get easier,” Granny says as they sit on a fallen moss-green tree in the middle of the fields. Dusk has coated the greenery gray and the sky a pale umber.

  Ariana’s limbs are heavy and the thought of walking back to the house increases her weariness. “I hope so.”

  “The food is helping, yes?”

  She nods. “Very much. It’s like a life source in itself.”

  “That’s exactly what it is, Ariana.”

  “And my body is changing too. I’m leaner and more toned. I’ve never been able to get a body like this before,” she says with a weak laugh.

  “You’ll need that extra strength in Fiore. The gravity is different.”

  Ariana’s eyes widen. “Different how?”

  “It’s stronger. That’s why the Warriors can move so fast here. They’re used to the heaviness of Fiore, so Earth feels like a playground.”

  She looks down to the Warriors as they engage in shirtless sword play, their muscles rippling.

  “What are all the tattoos for, Granny?” she asks, staring at the scene playing out. She’s too tired at the moment to view it as erotic, though she knows under normal circumstances she would be aroused by such displays of brute strength, virility, and muscly, sweaty bodies.

  “When a man is sixteen, he gains the image of his House.”

  “Is that why they all have the black panther-thingies tattooed across their backs and stomach?”

  Granny nods. “The mighty beast, Mira.”

  “Mira,” Ariana repeats softly.

  “Though it’s not a tattoo like you know of. You don’t get a needle and ink and draw it onto the skin. It grows naturally under the skin. The tattoo itself has life and is life.”

  “Amazing. What about all the others, the strange symbols and words?”

  “As a Warrior learns his craft and uses those skills in successful battles, he’ll earn those battle scars.”

  “So the more tattoos, the more skilled the Warrior?”

  “No, lass. The more tattoos the more feared the Warrior.”

  Ariana’s gaze wanders over the brothers. Hadeon, by far, has the greatest number of markings.

  She shivers as she turns to look at Granny’s face. “What kind of battles?”

  Granny stands and dusts off her dress. “The kind you don’t need to be concerning yourself with. That’s their business.”

  Ariana bites her bot
tom lip to prevent a snide comeback. She nods and pops her question into the to-be-asked-later basket, along with a billion others. But as they stroll down the fields back to the house, her desire to know more about her parents is too strong and she asks, “What House did my parents belong to?” A safe question that shouldn’t evoke too much emotion.

  Granny stops and raises a hand to cup Ariana’s cheek—the first act of tenderness she has shown. Ariana’s skin tingles under her touch and warmth spreads to her chest.

  “Your mother was from the strongest house in Fiore—Spring Blossom.”

  “Spring Blossom? Are they those cherry blossom looking plants on the front of my spell book?”

  Granny nods, lowers her hand, and begins to walk again. “Spring Blossoms are a symbol of fertility, growth, beauty, and love. Incredibly powerful and lustful, and to humans, intoxicating.”

  Ariana nods. “And my father?”

  Granny smiles longingly. “House of Letharn. A dragon, which symbolizes strength and honor.”

  “How does one know what House they’re from?”

  “A daughter will inherit their mother’s House. A son, their father’s.”

  “So I’m from Spring Blossom?”

  “Yes, and that’s where you’ll return.”

  * * * *

  Over the next month, Granny grants Ariana days off from her magic lessons to learn basic combat. So far, she has only crudely mastered basic blocking techniques, the ability to evade holds and keep her guard up. She has practiced how to harness her body’s energy and explode it outward using a punch or kick. Ariana finds it exhilarating bounding through the fields with the Warriors, especially as her body grows stronger from eating the Fioren food and performing strenuous exercise.

  She and Hadeon are working alone today. The other Warriors and Granny have gone into the nearest village for supplies. Hadeon has his arm wrapped around her neck, pressing hard against her windpipe. Her face is hot and red, her lungs burning for air. She pulls on his thumb, lifts it, breaking his force, and spins out of his grip.

  “Good,” he says. “You learn fast.”

  She sucks in much needed air and plants her hands on her hips.