Boreal and John Grey Season 1

by Chrystalla Thoma

  “How? Why?”

  He shrugged. “To make them more like us, perhaps.”

  “So you think that’s why I share your dreams. Because I have some magic in me.” But why would they want to make humans more like them? Unless this stabilizing ability Dave went on and on about had something to do with it? “What if—”

  A dark cloud enveloped the car. The metal groaned, the springs creaked. The wheel was jerked from Ella’s hands, and she slammed into the door.

  “The hell?” She blinked dazedly. Finn was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. Her ears rang.

  Then her door was wrenched open and a clawed hand reached inside and grabbed her. She resisted, feet kicking at the pedals. Finn had her wounded arm, fingers digging in her flesh, and the pain sent sparkles dancing in her vision.

  He gasped and released her as he was pulled backward, out the other side of the car.

  Shades. They were right at an entry to the Veil, its torn vapors filling the car. They had Finn.

  This was really starting to piss her off, and she hadn’t been in a good mood to start with. So she had powers? So she was Joan Grey or something?

  She’d show the bastards.

  Drawing a knife from her belt, she slashed at the claws coming for her again and grinned at the screech of pain it caused. Climbing over the seats, she exited from the other side of the car, and found Finn struggling in the hold of two massive trolls.

  “Hey, whoreson. He’s mine.” Adrenaline pumping faster and faster, she let loose two knives, finding her targets, and grabbed Finn’s arm as they disintegrated. The Veil pulsed around them, sucking them. They needed to get out.

  A goblin crept out of the throbbing darkness and Ella let go of Finn to dispatch the ugly critter back to hell. Finn stabbed and cut another one down, and by the time she rejoined him, a third one had snuck behind him. She cursed it as she flicked her blade through its gut.

  Turning, she found Finn regarding her with a light lift of his lips. “Whoreson?” he quoted.

  She shrugged, grinning, ignoring the burning in her arm, and nodded at the light filtering through the cloud. The car loomed ahead; their means of escape. “I guess this Old Norse business is starting to get to me. Come on, let’s head back home.”

  ***

  Neither of them talked the rest of the way. Her arm ached like a mother and she hoped she hadn’t reopened the wound with all the pulling and hitting. The stinking Shades were growing resistant to iron like viruses to antibiotics. Damn pests.

  Finn sat with his gun in his lap and a knife in his other hand, gaze flicking in every direction. What if he was right? What if there was something to his changeling theory? What if Sirurd’s daughter was a changeling? She’d have to check the book.

  If the Shades or the wolves didn’t attack them again. Dammit. She now knew how superstars felt. No privacy.

  Adrenaline still pumped and her heart raced as they rode the elevator. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. She was aware of Finn’s body heat, his breathing rhythm, his scent, the glitter of his eyes in the dim lighting. Aware of the way her body tightened, the way her mouth tingled at the memory of the one kiss they’d shared.

  He turned toward her, letting out a puff of air, and licked his lips. God, was he doing it on purpose? He had a smudge on his cheek; she reached up and wiped it, fingers brushing velvet skin.

  His breath caught on a gasp, loud in the quiet, and he leaned into the touch. He reached out, his hand hovering so close to her jaw she felt its warmth. Her hand ghosted down his chin to his throat, feeling the thundering pulse there, then to his chest, covering his heart.

  “Ella...” His voice was strangled.

  Oh god, what was she doing? She pulled back her hand; he caught it, pinned it back to his chest, against his heartbeat. Dipping his head, he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath caressing her lips.

  Then they were kissing, his lips hot and sweet, his body shoving her against the elevator wall, a solid barrier. Oh lord, at last!

  His eyes opened and he pulled back, grimacing. “Faen. You don’t want this.”

  What? Trying to catch her breath and get her brain to work, Ella considered this. Well, she’d pushed him away the last time, hadn’t she? What the hell had she been thinking? “Don’t you dare stop,” Ella said. “I do want this. Very much. More than anything—”

  His mouth covered her lips, bruising, his teeth biting lightly. His hands circled her waist, and his chest pressed her into the wall. A fire leaped in her veins. She slid her fingers into his hair, silken strands slipping through them.

  Mine, she thought, her heart tripping. Mine.

  The elevator doors opened and she couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond Finn’s taste, the feel of him. He took a step sideways, pulling her along, and together they stumbled into the corridor. He backtracked until he hit the wall and she wound her arms around his neck, unable to stop kissing him.

  But he moved again, pushing her, following her, his arms around her, until she slammed into the apartment door.

  Panting in her ear, he whispered, “Keys,” and she patted her pockets until she found them and passed them along.

  Cursing softly, every warm exhalation on her neck making her shiver, he unlocked the door and they tumbled inside. Finn gripped her waist and lifted her off her feet with ease, striding into the living room. He let her slide down on the sofa, and she tugged him down with her, needing to feel him cover her body. He complied, stretching on top of her, keeping his weight on his hands, his soft hair sliding forward to tickle her cheeks.

  “Finn...” Her chest ached with joy. She wanted him closer, skin to skin. “You’re overdressed.”

  He smiled down at her — god, so beautiful — and nuzzled her throat. “You really...” He pressed hot kisses down her collarbone and she shivered. “...want me?”

  Was he kidding?

  “I love you,” she said, her voice shaky and her heart raw, and oh lord, hadn’t she meant to keep those words locked inside? How had they slipped out, burning and aching?

  Eyes closing, he groaned, a rumbling against her belly, and he tapped two fingers against his chest — like he’d done after the Shades’ attack at the apartment. Did it mean something?

  With a shrug of his shoulders, he got rid of his jacket and sat up to take off his shoulder holster. God, she’d never wanted anyone like this. She couldn’t help slipping her hands under his t-shirt as he stretched to take it off, feeling the hard muscles shifting and rippling on his stomach. Then, impatiently, he tore at his shirt, the buttons popping off and falling like rain. He yanked it off. One of the bandages wrapped around his forearms was coming undone.

  Holy mother of god, she’d never get tired of seeing him bare-chested. And this time she was allowed to touch. As he leaned over her, her fingers skimmed the solid planes of his flanks up to the swell of his pectorals and his padded shoulders. In one swift movement, she reached up and tore the bandana off his head. His hair spilled forward, catching the colorful lights from outside the window.

  They hadn’t checked the apartment, or locked the door.

  She didn’t give a flying fuck. She’d die happy. Probably wouldn’t even notice.

  “Please...” Finn’s fingers trailed down her throat to the v-line of her blouse. “Can I...?”

  Can you what, she thought, dizzy with desire, but nodded anyway.

  He jerked the hemline, tearing the blouse like thin rice paper. She yelped. He grinned, teeth flashing. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating, staring down at her black bra, the swell of her breasts above it.

  Shit, she couldn’t believe this was happening, at last. She touched his face — so cat-like, and his face with the wide-set eyes, the small mouth. She traced the black patterns on his ears.

  “Your tattoos,” she whispered.

  “Majority marks,” he said, a hand trailing up the strap of her bra. “Can I... can you...?” He tugged at the strap, his body shifting against her, his arousal
unmistakable. “Will you...?”

  Another tug and the strap broke.

  He was going to tear off all her clothes, and he was still dressed. Unacceptable. She took his hand in hers. “Pants. Off.”

  He blinked, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. Casting one longing look at her slipping bra, he sat up and pushed down his pants, leaving only his briefs. Black, hugging his narrow hips, stretched tight over his hard-on.

  Could one self-combust with desire?

  Impatiently, she pushed down her pants, reached up to undo the clasp of her bra, and his hands were there, touching hers, pulling off the black material, freeing her breasts.

  He bent his head and growled deep in his throat. Pale patterns sparkled on his cheeks, his throat, his shoulders, pearly tattoos that writhed and faded.

  His body pressed down on hers, sending jolts of excitement through her. She pushed up against him and he raised his head, his eyes slits of midnight blue. He was panting as if he’d been running a marathon. He cupped one breast, his callused hand shaking, and pleasure coursed down her spine. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he quivered and bucked.

  “Hell,” Finn whispered, desperation in his voice, and slipped a finger into her underwear, tearing it at the seams. She cried out, the material stinging her skin, and before she could gulp in breath, the other side received the same treatment, and he was pulling the ruined cloth off her, leaving her naked.

  “We need...” Oh Christ, think, think! “Condoms.”

  “...what?” Finn’s jaw was clenched tight, his arms trembling on either side of her, his pulse jumping at the base of his throat.

  She fished at the side of the sofa, encountering her backpack, and dipped her hand inside. She was sure she still had a package from the time she’d dated Simon...

  “Ella?” Finn grated, his whole body shaking with tension.

  She opened the package, managing not to drop it but barely, and brandished a condom at him. He didn’t seem to understand; seemed to take the gesture as a command to undress. He shimmied out of his briefs and then was pressed, hot and hard, against her.

  Swallowing a groan of pure need, she forced herself to shove him back, a hand planted on his chest. “Put this on first. Protection,” she said when Finn blinked at the foil. She ripped it open and demonstrated how it should be worn.

  He’d had a girlfriend before coming to the city, hadn’t he?

  Eyes glazed, Finn drew back and clumsily pulled the condom on. A moan caught in Ella’s throat at the sight of him. God, his every inch was gorgeous, and then he glanced up at her, licking his lips, and thrust forward—

  Oh my fucking god. Dimly she was aware of her spine bowing, of Finn gasping, of her hips rising to meet him, of his hands gripping her legs... Sparks danced on her skin, molten lava churned inside her.

  This felt right, this felt... Hot damn. Finn shifted and she caught his shoulders and pulled him down. He kissed her, moaning in her mouth, rubbing against her, silky skin over steel-corded flesh.

  She drew back to breathe and he moved faster inside her, eyes closing, his frame shaking. Ella arched up, breath catching in her throat—

  Her body exploded into a million stars, shooting across the sky.

  Chapter Eight

  As One

  The hill was steep and snow lingered in crevices and around black stones even though most of it had melted. It was a Summer, Ella knew. A mild year.

  Chanting came from the hilltop. Voices.

  The boy next to her paused in his climbing, face scrunched up in a grimace. He slid down a few feet, eyes widening in alarm — she reached out for him, or tried to.

  But she couldn’t move. She could climb and follow him, but couldn’t touch him. Why? Still, he glanced up and his eyes found her. A faint smile broke on his face. It was like a sunrise, so beautiful.

  Finn... She exhaled the sounds but nothing issued from her mouth.

  He pushed himself up, small hands finding purchase on rocks that looked smooth as glass, and dragged himself upward. One of his legs trembled when he planted his foot in a crevice; thinner than the other leg, it was the one he’d broken only a year back.

  The boy scrabbled up the rocks, his breathing harsh, his fingers and hands bleeding, leaving streaks of red on the stones.

  Where are you going? she wanted to shout. She glanced up at the hilltop. Something bad waited there, she could feel it in her bones, and she didn’t want him going up to meet it.

  Only she couldn’t talk to him, touch him, stop him. Following him up the slope, she felt fear clench her chest. Lightly she climbed, as if her body had no weight, drifting like a cloud across his dream. There was no danger in it for her.

  She feared for him.

  The top loomed closer now, tall figures cutting the morning sky. Priests, wearing their high-crested hats, stood in a circle and elves knelt on the frozen ground, two fingers touching their foreheads. Dressed in light blue, they seemed like a reflection of the sky.

  A stone table stood in their center, dark slabs of polished rock, and on top lay a woman in a white dress with long, silvery hair in braids arranged on either side of her head. She seemed to be asleep, only the grief-stricken faces of those around her told otherwise.

  A funeral?

  Light rippled over the woman’s body, reflections and dazzles — glass? She was encased in a transparent box. The chanting rose in pitch, and the priests lifted their long hands, tracing symbols on the clean air.

  Colors flickered on the glass box, seemed to melt it, molding it to the woman’s face and body, a crystal casing, entombing her inside.

  “No!” The boy stepped out of his hiding place and threw himself at the dead woman, bloody fingers leaving trails on the shimmering glass.

  His mother.

  Ella hurried to stand next to him. She wanted to hug his heaving shoulders, rub his back, tell him he wasn’t alone — but her hand wouldn’t lift from her side.

  Then a priest moved, striding across the platform, and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his dirty coat, lifting him off his feet. The boy kicked and yelled and slapped the priest’s arms but the priest merely looked down at him, eyes narrowed.

  “You’re not one of us,” he growled, the sounds oddly distorted and somehow musical, yet perfectly clear. “Never come back.”

  Ella knew what would happen before it did. She ran to the priest, reached out for his white robes. Stop, don’t do this, stop it, she tried to shout, but not even a sob left her throat.

  The priest flung the boy down the slope.

  The world tumbling, turning, brilliant flashes of pain—

  Gasping, she opened her eyes. Finn’s arms tightened around her, pinning her to his chest and she could hear his heartbeat racing, hear his labored breathing—

  “It’s okay, Finn.” Her voice rasped in her throat as if she’d been screaming. “Everything’s okay.” Her eyes closed and she fell back into the dream.

  — the slope evened out and the boy rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. She had already reached his side somehow, as if she’d drifted down the hill like a feather. The boy’s hitching breaths filled the cold air and tears streaked his dirty cheeks.

  And she couldn’t even touch him to wipe them off.

  ***

  Ella came awake with a start. The doorbell was ringing. She glanced blearily around and found she was stretched out on the sofa, with Finn... Finn lying alongside her, a heavy leg thrown over one of hers, a muscled arm, lying limp across her middle. His soft breathing tickled her ear and his cheeks...

  His cheeks were wet.

  Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she reached up, touching her fingertips to the moisture.

  Finn sighed, his damp lashes dark against the high cheekbones.

  Flashes from the dream returned. A slope. A blue sky. A fall. Not one of us.

  Then the damn doorbell rang again, breaking the images, and she strained against Finn’s hold to get out of bed...

  The sofa.


  She was on the sofa, butt naked, and so was Finn, the parts of his anatomy she could see lithe and gorgeous, offered in full color, three dimensional display.

  Sex with Finn.

  Cuddling with Finn.

  Just... Whoa.

  Someone rapped vigorously on the door. Jeez, wasn’t it still early? She tried to pry Finn’s arm off her waist. He tightened his hold and opened his eyes, frowning.

  “Let go, Finn. I need to get up.” She tangled her fingers with his and he relaxed enough that she managed to slip from under his arm and stand up.

  Grabbing her blouse from the floor, she groaned. Ripped. So were her slip and her bra. She looked through the peephole.

  Mike.

  “One moment!” she called, jogging to her bedroom and pulling on a t-shirt and jeans. The apartment looked like the wake of a hurricane. She glanced into Finn’s room on the way back to the living room. Dave’s crew had removed the bodies of the wolves and scrubbed the floors, but blood had seeped into every dip and scratch, staining the linoleum.

  Finn was stirring on the sofa, solid muscles rippling beneath marble-white skin. God, putting clothes on that body was a damn shame, but she threw him his shirt and pants nevertheless. “Mike’s here.”

  Finn scowled and stood to dress. Ella paused, a hand on the door, staring. Holy shit. She fanned herself, her face on fire; considered pinching herself, in case she was dreaming — but why ruin a good fantasy?

  Another knock jarred her back to reality. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, unable to tear her eyes off Finn who had pulled on his shirt, sans buttons, and was hunting his socks and boots.

  “Took you some time.” Mike gave her a once over. “Are you all right? I’ve been ringing for so long I was about to call your boss to break down your door.”

  Hell. “Glad you didn’t. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You kidding me? I tried a thousand times. Your phone’s off.”

  “Is it?” She walked distractedly to the couch and fished it out of her backpack. She did her best not to look at Finn who stood, arms folded over his half-naked chest.