She couldn’t take it.
She clawed at his shoulders and he stilled, going tense above her.
The scent of blood grew thick in the air.
She gasped as she saw what she had done, scoring her talons across his flesh and leaving vicious grooves in his skin that swelled with crimson.
Her eyes leaped to his, meeting their darkening depths, and she swallowed hard.
“Blood for blood,” he whispered in a husky deep voice, thick with desire.
She didn’t have a chance to respond.
Stars exploded across the black ceiling above him as his fangs sank deep into her throat and her body jacked off the ground as he pulled on her blood, sending it all rushing towards him and causing an inferno to sweep through her in its wake.
She moaned with each pull, grasped his shoulders and stayed locked in position, her backside lifted off the black earth and pressed against his.
He drank deeper, his noisy suckling filling the thick air together with her panted breaths.
His left hand skimmed down her spine, across her bottom and over her thigh. A moan quivered on her lips as his thumb pressed into her pert bead and two fingers speared her core, sliding easily into her slick flesh. He pumped her steadily, in time with his drinking, lifting her ever closer to release that still felt painfully beyond her reach. His thumb swirled around her nub as he thrust his fingers, and she flexed around them, her body beyond her control as she sought a climax she knew would scatter her in pieces.
His fangs sank deeper into her throat and she balanced on the edge, trembling there.
He denied her, slipped his fingers free of her flesh and left her bereft.
She opened her mouth to plead him to return to her but he denied her again, removing his fangs from her as he drew back, rising above her.
Blood coated his lips and dripped down his chin, and gods help her, but she wanted to kiss him, found the sight of him fresh from tasting her the most erotic thing she had ever seen.
His eyes held hers, fierce amethyst that stole her voice and commanded stillness from her, pulling her firmly under his spell.
His hand brushed her inner thigh and then the blunt head of his length nudged against her slick channel and she moaned, unable to contain the sound as pleasure rippled through her, hunger so fierce it was hard to keep still as he slowly pressed forwards, on the verge of filling her at last.
His fangs flashed between his lips as he growled down at her.
“Mine now.”
A distant roar shattered him into a million pieces that rained down on her and she gasped as darkness engulfed her and then a single flickering golden light broke through it.
She stared across the large sparsely furnished room at the candle burning on the mantelpiece, her heart hammering against her chest and breath coming so quickly she felt dizzy. An echo of pleasure still rippled through her, a shadow of what she had felt in her dream.
She raised trembling fingers to her throat, to the place where he had marked her.
Her fated male.
Fated.
She snarled.
She had decided long ago that fate was cruel.
It had been cruel to show him to her seven centuries ago and make her recognise him for what he was. It had been cruel to choose him as the one who hunted for her, believing her a murderer and a thief, making him bent on killing her.
It was cruel to tease her with him in her dreams each night, the only place where they could be together.
Taryn drew her knees up to her chest and breathed out slowly, the candle becoming a hazy blur of light as her body tingled with unfulfilled need, an endless hunger for her mate.
He was coming.
She could feel it in her bones and her blood.
He was coming and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face him again, to see the darkness in his stunning eyes that was directed at her, the hatred and the venom, the desire to end her. She closed her eyes but all she saw was the vision Loke had witnessed, one she now felt sure would come to pass and nothing she could do would stop it from happening.
Fate was cruel indeed.
Because it had made her mate her executioner.
CHAPTER 6
Bleu was three hundred percent certain that this was a bad idea. He had left Leif, Fynn and Dacian at the stronghold they had used during their previous hunt for the female dragon and the sword, a stone fortress long abandoned by the elf legions, left to rot because it now stood on a peaceful border between the elf kingdom and the First Realm of the demons.
Prince Loren had negotiated a treaty with the First and Second Realms centuries ago, the only two that bordered the elf kingdom. That treaty had created a barrier between the elf kingdom and the other five demon realms, stopping them from marching into elven lands and bringing war to Loren’s doorstep.
War born of fury over the heinous acts committed in their lands by an elf.
Bleu eyed the quaint thatched cottage nestled on the fringe of a quiet village and surrounded by a vibrant walled garden and lush English countryside. The noon sunlight warmed the old sandstone of the small one-and-a-half storey cottage and glinted off the small windows on the ground floor and those in the roof. The reeds used to create the roof arched over each window in a sweeping curve that made Bleu feel as if nature herself had built the home. Such a peaceful place, it was almost impossible to picture the elf male he had come to visit living in it.
The elf who had been responsible for the atrocities in the demon realms and many more.
Vail.
Bleu had been standing here on the narrow silent road just a few hundred feet from the cottage for the gods only knew how long, debating whether to proceed with his prince’s plan to speak with his tainted brother about the sword. His gut said it was a terrible idea, and it was difficult to ignore that, or the voice that whispered he should have brought backup with him.
Bleu shook his head.
He had been right to order his men to remain at their temporary headquarters, getting it back into order and ready for their hunt, resupplying it with weapons and anything else they needed from the castle. It was important that they were prepared, and that any elves who had moved into the vicinity of the garrison were removed to a safe distance. The lands around it had been empty on both sides three hundred years ago, making it the ideal place to set up base, because if the dragon attacked them it would only be him and his men in the firing line.
Bleu hoped that was still the case. He had no desire to drag innocents into this war.
It was also important that he didn’t anger the elf he was about to visit, and he knew the male well enough, had fought him enough times over the past forty-two centuries, that he knew Vail would view a band of four warriors as a threat.
Both to him and his mate.
As the sun crept lower, leaving its zenith, and a warm breeze teased the bright red roses that clung to the rough creamy walls of the cottage, and the colourful rosebushes that lined the path to the front door, Bleu blew out a breath and marched forwards.
To his doom, probably.
This was not going to go well.
He approached the low wall enclosing the garden and cottage, his steps silent on the road. A bird sang in the distance, the beautiful song offering him comfort as his heart pounded hard against his breast. He reached his senses out, digging them deep into the nature that surrounded him, drawing strength from it as all elves did.
His hand shook as he reached for the low wooden gate and he tensed to steady it, a brief flex of muscle that did the trick. He pushed the bleached arched gate open and strode down the path, the hem of the long black coat he wore over his armour swirling around his ankles.
A soft female voice rang out from the rear of the cottage and Bleu diverted course, following the narrow golden gravel path that cut through lavender and rosemary bushes and curved towards the right side of the house.
He rounded the building and spotted Rosalind hanging washing on a line
supported between two apple trees, her long black dress reaching her knees and a grim contrast against her wavy ash blonde hair. The breeze blew again and she muttered a ripe curse not suited to her delicate appearance as she wrestled with her hair, tugging it out of her face.
“Hand me those pegs.” She pointed to a small bag hanging at the end of the line furthest from Bleu.
“Rosalind,” Bleu said.
Her head snapped around, blue eyes enormous and rosy lips parted.
An unholy snarl sounded and then Vail was right in front of him, standing between him and Rosalind, his skin-tight armour in place and fangs enormous as he flashed them at Bleu. He backed towards his mate, his right hand stretched behind him, snarling the whole time. He reached Rosalind and caught hold of her waist, his black clawed fingers blending into her dress as he guided her behind him.
“Leave… keep away from my ki’ara. She is mine,” Vail snarled in the elf tongue, his tone as black as midnight in the demon realms. His ears grew pointier, flaring back against the wild strands of his blue-black hair, and every instinct Bleu possessed fired in response to the threat.
It took all of his will to stop himself from hissing back at the wretched male.
It was only Rosalind’s soft apologetic look when she leaned to one side, peering past her mate, that stopped him.
“I am not interested in your mate,” Bleu muttered in his native language. “What is it with you and Loren and your females?”
A frown flickered on Vail’s face at the mention of his brother, and then his eyes darkened dangerously, black encroaching to swallow the violet.
Bleu held his ground, body vibrating with awareness of what was about to happen. He had seen that look in Vail’s eyes enough times to know to brace himself and prepare for a fight.
Rosalind gently laid her hand on Vail’s right shoulder and Bleu couldn’t believe his eyes as the vicious male transformed before them, that delicate hand taming the beast. The dark hunger for violence disappeared from Vail’s eyes in an instant, becoming a soft but pleading look as he turned them on his mate. She stepped up beside him, her left hand still on his shoulder, and stroked his arm with her right, all the way down to the sharp tips of his claws.
Vail’s gaze followed the path of her fingers and his shoulders relaxed as she worked whatever magic she was casting on him.
Not magic involving spells and potions. Nature’s magic. A magic he didn’t want to think about because it was already souring his mood, and that had been rather sour to begin with.
Love.
It was there in that touch, in that stupid soft look on Vail’s face, and the smile on Rosalind’s lips.
Bleu wanted to retch.
He cleared his throat instead, gaining a far more palatable snarl and black look from Vail.
Rosalind petted Vail’s hand. “Let him speak. He’s here for our help.”
Vail turned that scowl on his mate. “He is not to be trusted. You vowed he would never come here.”
She had? That stung. Bleu had thought them something akin to acquaintances, if not close to friends, after everything they had been through.
The darkness in Vail’s eyes shifted again, lightening as his eyebrows furrowed and he stooped to catch Rosalind’s hand. He brought it up to his armoured chest and stared down into her eyes, his violet ones pleading. As mercurial as ever. Vail’s mood always had been dangerously unpredictable.
“He is dangerous. Make him go away. He will seek to harm me through you and I cannot bear it.”
Now Bleu was just offended. “I will not… and besides, I knew Rosalind first.”
Vail hissed at him, his eyes almost jet black and pointed ears flattening against the sides of his head.
The elf male released Rosalind’s hand and turned on him, the black slashes of his eyebrows dropping so low that his eyes were nothing more than slits as he glared at Bleu.
“What do you mean?” Vail bit out and then snapped back to Rosalind, his eyes wild and filled with hurt. “Did you lie? Did the foul creature truly admire you in the Third Realm… did he desire you? Did you—”
Rosalind pressed a finger to his lips. “Nothing happened between us. I only said those things to make you jealous so I would know your feelings for me.”
Bleu arched his left eyebrow at that, and being termed a ‘foul creature’. It seemed Vail’s opinion of him was as low as Bleu’s opinion of Vail. And what the hell had Rosalind been thinking using him as a method of making Vail jealous? No wonder the male hated him and didn’t trust him.
“I love you, and only you,” Rosalind whispered, her head tipped back and blue eyes fixed on her mate’s violet ones.
Vail’s expression softened but it didn’t last long. Storm clouds descended again, darker than ever as he slid his gaze towards Bleu.
“I still desire the male to leave.” His eyes dropped back to Rosalind and emotions danced across his face as his eyebrows furrowed. “I do not wish to be reminded of the things I have done… not today… please?”
Rosalind offered her mate a sympathetic smile and opened her arms to him. Vail stepped into them, stooped and clasped her to him as he buried his face in her fall of golden hair. She held him, cupping the back of his neck, stroking the shorter lengths of his blue-black hair. When she blinked, her eyes darted from the trees behind Vail straight to Bleu, and starlight flickered in their blue depths as they darkened, the sense of power he felt flowing from her growing stronger.
Bleu shifted back a step and that was when it hit him.
The reason why Vail was troubled today, more so than usual.
His stomach dropped to his feet, the space in his chest going cold as he cursed himself for not realising it earlier. He could have avoided disturbing Vail, upsetting him, if he had chosen any day other than today to visit him.
Any day other than the anniversary of the one on which, all those thousands of years ago, Vail had fallen under Kordula’s spell and attacked his own men, slaughtering most of his legion. A battle Bleu had barely escaped with his life.
Rosalind murmured softly to Vail and his fingers tightened against her waist, black claws pressing in to clutch her, as if she was the only anchor in the storm of the emotions battering him. Bleu could sense the turmoil and pain in him, hurt that he had caused.
He backed off another step, an apology balanced on his lips, but then he remembered why he had come. He couldn’t leave without asking for their help. The fate of thousands, no, millions of lives depended on him now.
And on Vail.
He looked at the male, feeling deep in his gut and his heart that this was Vail’s chance, his shot at taking a giant leap towards redeeming himself. The elf had taken thousands of lives over the last forty-two centuries, but he could save millions in the next few minutes.
“I didn’t know,” Bleu said. “I am not here because of that. I am here because I require your help… I need to find the sword.”
Confusion crinkled Rosalind’s fair eyebrows.
Her mate instantly lifted his head, turning sharp violet eyes on Bleu. “The sword?”
Bleu nodded. While his mate didn’t know what they were talking about, Vail knew exactly what sword he was looking for and was aware of what had happened to it seven centuries ago, and the determination steadily growing in his eyes said that he was willing to help.
Vail opened his mouth to speak.
The air off to his left shimmered and another elf appeared on bended knee, breathing hard, black stilted ribbons like smoke twisting around him.
Bleu stilled right down to his breathing, tensing in perfect unison with Vail, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Fuery.
The tainted elf raised his head, black eyes locking on Vail’s face for a split second before they dropped to his boots and he bent his head lower. The tangled strands of his shoulder-length black hair swept forwards to conceal his face, but Bleu could feel the agony as it rolled off him. His bare fingers dug into the earth, bunching the gr
ass into shaking fists.
Bleu couldn’t take his eyes off the male as he was hurled through time. A night barely a few months ago rose around him, reconstructing itself as if he truly had leaped through time. He saw Fuery standing across from him in Kyter’s nightclub, a black and terrible shadow in the dimly lit expansive room, his eyes filled with darkness and lust for bloodshed, claws itching to destroy and take the lives of all he viewed as an enemy.
A shadow of the noble male Bleu had known as a youth.
That Fuery whirled back in time with him, to a battlefield where he loomed over him, his hand outstretched. Bleu saw himself take it, swore he felt the breeze as he was pulled onto his feet, and saw Fuery’s lips move in silent words that he felt warming his soul and boosting his courage before the elf turned away from him. He raised his black blade, his head held high, violet eyes bright and focused on the enemy as he commanded the legion to move forwards. Bleu could only stare as he kicked off and swept through the enemy, cutting them down with ease and leading the charge.
A male Bleu had adored, admired and aspired to be, and had mourned, grieved for while flooded with pain so fierce it had felt as if his soul had been tearing apart.
The present Fuery moved, causing the past to swirl into a maelstrom of colourful smoke and dissipate.
“Commander Fuery,” Bleu whispered, lost all over again, as rattled by his presence as he had been back in Kyter’s nightclub.
He had lived four thousand years believing him dead, murdered by the male who was looking down at him through astonished violet eyes that seemed to reflect all of Bleu’s feelings.
He couldn’t breathe.
Bleu stumbled back a step as the past rushed back, sweeping him along in a torrent too strong for him to fight, impossible for him to break free of and find solid ground again.
Rosalind shifted her gaze to him and it filled with concern, her fingers twisting in front of her as she bit her lower lip. He knew she wanted to come and aid him, but it would be a dangerous move, one liable to cause her mate to turn on him, Fuery and possibly even her.
Possessed by a Dark Warrior Page 6