by K. F. Breene
“I’m not afraid of your contact. I figured I’d be scared of all males for… a great long time. It’s nice to know I’m not as screwed up as I thought I was.”
“That makes one of us.”
Emmy huffed and started walking at a right diagonal. “Can you see better than me?”
“Rough outlines.”
“Okay. Well, there is a tiny hole up here that leads into a different tunnel. I think someone must’ve gotten lost up here once upon a time and blasted their way through. It wasn’t on the map.”
“Secret tunnel?” Jonas saw a rough wall reaching to either side of them. The very faint light from a bulb distantly behind them lighted on the pockmarked and jagged stone that should’ve met at a corner. The hole was somewhat oblong and made a divot in the ceiling. “Never mind.”
“My dad was American and a doctor. He made up a birth certificate and got me a passport. It’s outdated, but… I’m a citizen.”
“What happened to him? Your dad?” They inched along five feet of pitch black. Jonas was as blind as Emmy was until they stepped around a corner and another distant light softly glowed down the corridor.
“Disappeared. He was here most of the time I was—he lived in the area, I think. He wasn’t a prisoner, or anything. I think he loved my mother. But soon after he gave me the passport he… stopped coming here. My mom was transferred out. I haven’t seen her since, either. Nathanial cut me off.”
“What’s the story with that guy? Why the obsession with you?”
Jonas could feel her hand trembling in his, but she kept silent. If she knew, she wasn’t willing to share. He could respect that, but he couldn’t stop a kernel of rage burning at what this monster had done to her life.
“Okay, just here.” They walked into a little alcove, followed a circular corridor away to the left, and found a shadowed door. If she hadn’t led Jonas directly to it, he wouldn’t have seen it. Not with the way it seemed to crouch in the shadows within the wall. A squeal of metal saw the heavy door swinging into a dark space. Standing at the doorway, there was no way to see how big the room was, its shape, or how deep it went. Given the nature of the corridor, though, chances were the room was round.
Emmy took two steps in, stopped, and sidestepped to the right. “Close the door behind you, then do as I just did. We’ll be blind, so you’ll need to walk around my traps.”
“What kind of traps?” Jonas asked as he pulled the door shut behind them. The click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud. Like he’d just shut them into a tomb.
“Just furniture positioned in the way. Enough to slow someone down so I could go at them with my whips.”
“But… you’d be trapped in here. What would be the point? Magic could take you out.”
“There’s a tiny door in the back. If we get a chance to run, we won’t be going the way we came. Nathanial will follow me with whatever tracking thing he has. That’ll take him in a straight line. He can’t get here in a straight line. This place was designed to keep prisoners in. If they tried to escape they’d be hopelessly running around the inside of this place. It’ll buy us time. Hopefully… it’ll buy us enough time.”
Emmy led them blindly through a series of steps, not unlike an elaborate dance routine, around the room. When she got to a place she deemed their goal, she stopped, about-faced, and sat down slowly. The creak of wood echoed around the stone room. Jonas followed suit, sitting right beside her on what felt like an old bench. This time the creak was more of a squeal. He paused.
“It should hold,” Emmy whispered.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. But it sounded comforting.”
Jonas huffed and resumed. The bench wobbled, but held. “Okay. Now… we wait. I’m already bored.”
Silence descended on them like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Stagnant air prickled Jonas’ skin with implications. With what he knew was coming. He was sitting here, without a sword, with a woman he’d grown to really like, while warriors wielding buckets of magic wormed their way toward them.
He wasn’t good at this. This waiting for a battle to come to him. He wasn’t built for it.
“Is there room to pace in this place?” he asked in a gravelly whisper.
He felt movement next to him. Emmy took her hand from his grasp. It reappeared on his chest and slid up to his face. Her palm, strangely soft even though she worked with her tools, cupped his chin. “I can distract you.”
The bench groaned as she shifted her weight. Another little palm slid across his thigh and cupped his erection. He closed his eyes, since they weren’t any good here anyway, and let her pull his head toward her. He felt lips touch the side of his mouth lightly before repositioning fully on his. Her mouth opened, inviting him in.
He turned to her and gathered her into his lap. The feel of her, touching her—it was an exquisite sort of heaven. The electricity they’d known before exploded with the increased contact. He deepened their kiss and squeezed her body close. “Do I need to be gentle?”
“If you don’t want to break the bench.”
“No, I mean… are you worried about not being completely in control?”
“I am in control. If I asked you to stop, you’d stop. Immediately. I know that. I trust you.”
Jonas stood with her before setting her down on her feet and repositioning her body. He then pulled her with him to the hard stone floor, cold to the touch, and sat her on his lap. “So we don’t break that bench.”
Emmy laughed. A low, throaty sound that vibrated his bones. He put his arms around her and just held her for a moment, liking the feel of her delicate body against his. Liking that she curled up within his embrace and rested her face against his neck.
“Your problems have lived with you all your life,” Jonas said in a low hum. “Until today. I give you my word that soon they’ll be your past. And we can face that past with a smile and a sword. Or a whip. Soon all this will just be memories.”
“What about your past? What is it that haunts you? That makes you need to feel and own the pain until you come out blazing yet tranquil?”
“You’re way too eloquent for the likes of me—I should point that out. I’ll never hear the end of it from Charles. He’ll say it’s a green card situation.” Jonas gave a low chuckle. The darkness and hush of the room swallowed it up. “I was a runt when I was a kid. A tiny thing. Smaller than everyone. People thought I was deformed. Or that I was human. I didn’t have a firm grasp on my magic, which developed late, like the rest of me, and I couldn’t fight with any sort of strength. I was made fun of ruthlessly. My mom left me—which really is just not done—and my adopted father, who took pity on me, died a few years after the adoption. I was alone for most of my childhood—no friends, no respect, and no peers.”
“How did that change?”
Jonas ran his fingers through her silky hair. “I had a huge growth spurt. I packed on muscle, got a dose of magic, and nearly overnight became a giant. I’d practiced my sword work and offensive magic religiously because of the bullying, but it hadn’t been much good without strength and power. As soon as I got that strength and power…”
“You kicked ass.”
“Yes. Lots of ass. I earned a lot of notice, but didn’t accept it. Not from those people who’d been kicking me when I was down. I eventually met a couple guys that had lost parents in the same incident I did. They were a bit older, but ruthless. They had their own shit. We developed a sort of respect for each other, and then bonded. The three of us earned a name, and then we helped the strongest and smartest of us to become leader.”
“And he’s still leader.”
“Yes. One of the best. They want him for Regional, but he just became a father, so he’s putting elevated duties on hold.”
“And he’s mated to the mage? The human?”
“Yes. I hated her at first—you should know that. I hated that she was a human. After being taunted and ridiculed as being human half my life, and starting to believe
it… Well, I wasn’t eager to accept her. Human, to me, was a dirty thing. A lesser species. Small and weak—helpless—like I was when I was a kid. Her presence brought back painful memories.”
“And she changed your mind? How?”
Jonas’ fingers stilled as he thought back. He remembered, very clearly, Sasha’s determination to learn her magic. Her fearlessness. Her valor. And, most importantly, her willingness to run into battle when she could’ve gone and hid. “She didn’t act like how I’d always heard humans acted. Like her sissy boyfriend at the time. Or other humans I’d run across. She had traits I admired. She was small, weak, untrained—yet she didn’t hide from bigger enemies like I had when I was younger. She always rose to the challenge and ran at danger. She didn’t need a growth spurt or a bunch of muscle to find her courage. She just goes for it. How can you not respect that? How can you not want to fight beside it?”
His fingers resumed stroking. “And then there was that halvsie she found. That guy—he’s a nutcase. Most people, besides the Boss or Jameson, won’t look me straight in the eye. Not for any period of time, anyway. He did. Right when I first met him he shot me a hard challenge. Couldn’t give a shit if he was outgunned or not. And just like Sasha, that guy threw his balls to the walls immediately. Waltzed into a larger race with a hard eye and infallible confidence. He’s my kind of nut.
“Then there’s the other humans—those harebrained witches—and babies being introduced, and more magic… Cato’s right. He’s the craziest of all, but he saw it from the first moment of meeting Sasha. Looked beyond all our prejudices and saw what would make the race as a whole stronger. And we are—we are stronger as a united force.” Jonas shrugged. “Just got to open the eyes to see it. Gotta swallow that pill.”
Emmy slid up his chest until her lips slid across his. “Then I got lucky with the timing. Touch me, Jonas.”
Jonas wasted no time. With his fingers splayed, he slid his hands down her smooth back. He deepened the kiss, tasting her. Feeling her tongue retreat and invite him in. He moved his hands to the top of her back again, and this time when he slid them down, he hooked his thumb in her straps and pulled her gown down. Her warm chest met his, skin on skin. He could feel her hard nipples rubbing against his pecs.
After removing her whips and knives, he brought his hands around her waist and pushed them up her stomach and over her firm breasts. She moaned into his mouth as her body moved away from his, giving him space to work. He did so. He bent his head and kissed down her neck and onto her chest. He flicked a nipple with his tongue and pinched the other before enveloping the small bud with his hot mouth. Her moan was louder this time. Her hips gyrated against his, needy. Insistent.
He increased the suction on one nipple before moving to the next. Then more suction, bordering on painful. He just wanted to see her tolerance. See what she liked. Her sharp inhale of breath was followed by a groan of delight. He bit softly before backing off and blowing lightly.
“Oh holy hell,” she breathed.
Jonas flicked her nipple again, manipulating it with his tongue. He let his fingertips drift down her back in light caresses. Teasing her. Making her anticipate. When her breath started to increase in heaviness, and her hips started to swing wildly, he sucked in her nipple and bit a little harder this time. He pinched the other with the same strength.
“Oh shi—“ Her body trembled against him. Her hands clawed at his back and her head fell to the side. “Oh wow.”
Jonas started to kiss up her neck again, light and teasing. Building her again softly. Making her wait for the harder friction. Learning her body with touch in the process.
“Take my blood.” Her voice was heady. Somewhat wild. “You’ll need the strength.”
“So will you,” he countered. He nibbled her lips.
“Not as much as you, Jonas.” She rose up onto her knees. He leaned forward and found her breasts. He sucked one in as he felt hands at his waistline. “Help.”
With a smile, he lifted up on his hands so she could work his sweats down around his thighs. He sat back down on the cold, stone floor. A rug of some sort would’ve been nice, but as her body moved over him, and her wetness touched off his tip, he forgot all about it. Instead, all his focus went to the hotness of her core as she sat. Her core enveloped him. Electricity filled his body. The world dimmed to just her. To the feel of her body and the subtle movements over him.
“Take my blood,” she urged with a sigh. “I want it.”
He couldn’t deny her. Not when she asked like that, with her voice desperate. Wild. Needing to feel this thing between them with reckless abandon. She rose and then sat down on him again, harder. As he plunged into her, feeling sensations he could barely handle, he bit the delicate skin on her neck. She rose up slowly, breathing heavily. He sucked in her essence, taking a long draw.
“Oh my—Oh gods. Oh—“ Emmy clutched onto him. Her nails dug deeply into his back and then scored down his skin. Hot, stinging pain flared. Then pooled. Then turned into white-hot pleasure.
He thrust upward into her as she was coming down. His skin smacked off of hers as pleasure assaulted him. Her blood fell over his tongue in a burst of flavors and colors he’d never tasted before. Like a deep, underground river, the currents arrested him and sucked him under. Her floral scent wrapped around him as he tasted spices and danger. The desire to run headfirst into battle rose up. Of courage and steadfastness. Of hot nights and victory. His blood sang as it mingled with hers. His adrenaline keyed up.
He couldn’t think any more. There were only sensations. There was only her.
“You taste—“ He took another long draw. Her moaning filled his ears. Her body moved faster over him. His manhood plunged in and out of her. Her body stroked him. Made his balls tingle. Made his head swim.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head as an orgasm tore through him. She shuddered over him a moment later, crying out and then muffling it within his neck. Their panting filled the quiet room. Her presence, her body, her feel, filled his everything.
They would live through this, and he would make her his mate. There was no other way to play it.
As that thought settled into him with a comfortable surety, they heard distant shouting.
“He’s coming,” Emmy said in a strangled voice.
Chapter Seven
I hopped out of the car a moment after it rolled to a stop. We’d arrived in a dusty field ten miles outside of town. It was the only place in this area that didn’t have some sort of farming setup. With the yellowed grasses and uncultivated ground, it looked like a farmer had long since given up and moved away, never having sold his land so someone else could make a go out of it.
Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have noticed. I would’ve just passed this field with a brief glance at the deserted nature of it. Now, however, I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Obviously there was something hidden here. No way would land this fertile go unworked. No way would one building-size plot of land, perfectly square with the perimeter defined, not be housing a bunch of Stefan’s race trying to hide from the humans.
A line of cars had stopped in the middle of the street. Many had pulled to the side, ruining some cabbage, but a great many had just stopped. If someone wanted to get through, they were out of luck. I had no idea what Cato had done to keep the humans away, but whatever it was, it worked like Raid to ants. Not one person drove down this road that wasn’t here for a huge battle over American soil.
Warriors of one size—gigantic—gathered along the edge of the road. Each body stood straight and tall, dressed in leathers with swords at their sides or on their backs, sporting grim and terrifying expressions. These were the best of the best, that was clear. With their perfectly-sculpted muscles decked out in vicious, jagged scars, these gals and guys had all seen plenty of action. Their shoulders were set and eyes hard, staring at the empty space as if looking into the eyes of their enemy. They were just waiting for someone to kill.
The line of warriors was
four deep and as long as the plot of land. There must’ve been a thousand people for the front line. Behind them, sporadic, were more warriors with less scars but harder expressions. Most looked older, and often they surveyed the toes of the men nearest the dirt. They were probably the commanders who would orchestrate the charge.
Cato stood in the cabbage field. Spread out around him were people with some mark denoting their ability at advanced magic. Some held hands, and some stood with heads bowed, but all stared unfocused. They were working.
“Love.” I turned at Stefan’s voice. He walked up beside me as he scanned the front line. He glanced back at all his warriors getting out of the cars, then turned his attention down to me. “You don’t need me for this. I’ll be working with the warriors.” He bent so his face was closer and his eyes bored into mine. “Stay safe, do you hear me? Don’t be a hero.”
“I’m totally going to be a hero.” I winked at him. I was pretty sure I still had raging anxiety in my gaze. Before a battle, I was scared shitless. This wasn’t new. The fireworks had to actually get started before my courage got fired up and my brain shut off.
“I love you.” He bent and kissed me. “I’m leaving Charles with you. Hopefully we’ll have Jonas by our side soon enough.”
“I just have to crack this bitch open and let him out,” I said with bravado I didn’t feel. The magazine paper of directions Emmy had given me crinkled in my fist.
Stefan nodded as warm comfort infused our link. “Call me if you need anything.”
I watched him stride away with a sense of loss. That feeling never went away when he put distance between us, and the rush of bliss always rushed me when I saw him again. That’s just how it was.
Which was not helping at the moment.
“All right. Time’s a wastin’.” I glanced back the way we’d come and saw Paulie stalking down the street with his straight and determined walk. My clan nodded to him as he passed, but those that didn’t know him gave him a double-take. He looked both human and like Stefan’s race, and he wore his halvsie status with pride. Gold flared up his arms, highlighting his tattoos.