by Sasha White
Severin rocked his hips, grinding his shaft into my groin. I felt his arms quake with strain and repressed need. I knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.
With one hand he shucked my shorts down my legs and tossed them to the side. I was hot and wet and ready. Unable to wait any longer, he guided himself in between my legs. With one swift thrust, he buried his entire length inside.
Every nerve ending in my body sparked to life as he moved, slowly at first, then picked up his pace before finding a delicious rhythm that sent shivers from my toes to my scalp.
I’d had lovers before, but I’d never felt so alive with them. With Severin, it was if the world had exploded with color, texture, taste, and smell. I could discern everything around in a kaleidoscope of brilliance.
The skin on the bottom of my feet tingled, as did the backs of my knees. Places I never knew could react with such hot intensity to sex flared to life. My whole body became one multi-faceted erogenous zone.
Digging my fingers into his shoulders, I returned his kisses with eagerness, nibbling and teasing his tongue. A growl rumbled out of him as he buried a hand in my hair and countered, biting at my lips. He pounded between my legs as we kissed. With each hard thrust, I thought I’d go mad with pleasure. It didn’t just ripple over my skin but surged through every inch of my body.
Streaking my hands over his back, I searched for something to hang onto as he took me up, pushing me close to the edge of orgasm. He shifted his stance, gripped my butt cheek tight, and pushed me hard against the wall and buried himself deep.
Gasping from the assault I dug her nails in and raked them across his flesh. Severin returned my fervor by clamping down on my shoulder with his teeth. Pain and pleasure washed over me and clashed together into a delicious torment. Moaning, I urged him on as I bucked and writhed against his body.
He grunted then drove into me repeatedly. Sweat slicked our bodies and by the time we came together in a symphony of cries and growls, I could barely remember what I had been worried about earlier.
Back at the hospital the next day, I spent most of it distracted and befuddled. I couldn’t keep my mind off of Severin and the portal. I also couldn’t concentrate on much of anything without getting distracted by the rippling between my shoulder blades. My wings were itching something fierce. And I constantly worried that people would wonder why I was so twitchy.
There was certainly no one I could trust with my secret. Diana would definitely not understand the wings flapping on my back. I suspect she’d want to dissect me like an experiment, a butterfly pinned to a piece of board. Definitely not a pretty picture in my mind.
A raucous commotion in the examination room in front of me drew my attention. One nurse came out; eyes wide almost in tears, and Kevin went in at a run.
I set aside the file I’d been looking at and approached the room. I could hear several anxious voices inside all talking at once. I pulled the curtain aside and went in.
Nothing could prepare me for what I saw on the gurney.
A grinning, disheveled man sat rocking back and forth on the bed. That wasn’t the disturbing part. I’d seen whacked out people every day. It was what was poking out of the man that had me gaping like a fish out of water.
Kevin had the man’s shirt collar pulled down. “He’s got a damn plant growing out of his neck.”
And that was exactly what it looked like. A rich green leafy vine coiled out of his top thoracic vertebrae and dangled down his back. There were several unfurled leaves on it. It reminded me of the spider plants that grew in my garden.
“Did you call the doctor?” I asked.
He nodded. “I called in everyone I could think of, even a dermatologist.”
The other nurse in the room, Heather, looked at me all wide-eyed and freaked out. “Are they going to quarantine us?”
“Maybe,” I said as I got closer to the patient. “Do we have a name?”
Heather picked up the man’s wallet and showed it to me. “Ralph Donnelly. Age forty five. He was unresponsive when he came in and he’s still that way. Hasn’t said anything to anyone.”
“He’s a walk in?”
Kevin nodded.
I leaned in and really looked at the man’s neck. I could plainly see that the vine had split through his skin. There was a little dried blood on the collar of his shirt.
“That must’ve hurt like a son-of-a-bitch,” Kevin said.
I nodded; yes it must have indeed hurt. I flinched and my hand instinctively moved up to touch the tip of one wing. Digging deep in my psyche, I could still feel the pain. I winced as if still feeling it. Kevin and Heather both looked at me and I quickly dropped my hand to my side again.
A rush of dread rolled over me. The plant reminded me of something. Something I didn’t want to face. I knew of only one species that had a true affinity to nature. And it wasn’t humans or werewolves.
As he rocked, Ralph started to mumble under his breath. Leaning closer, I could barely make out any coherent words.
“What’s he saying?” Heather asked.
Kevin answered, “Sounds like gibberish. All I can make out is moonlight, and the fall of night or something along those lines.”
My heart nearly gave out right there and then.
As his head twitched suddenly, the vine unwound another inch down his back. I had to swallow down the bile rising in my throat. It was grotesque to watch. But I felt like I had to as a testament to what the poor man was going through.
I moved over a little to stand in the man’s line sight. “Ralph, my name is Nina Decker and I’m a nurse here at St. Paul’s. I wanted to ask you some questions, if that’s okay?”
He didn’t respond, just kept rocking and mumbling.
I leaned forward and tapped him on the knee. “Can you hear me, Ralph?”
Slowly his head turned and he looked at me. “I see you.”
“That’s good Ralph. That’s good.”
“I am the vulture upon the rocks,” he then mumbled.
“Do you know why,” I pointed to his back where the plant continued to coil out of his neck. “This is happening to you? Did you touch something strange, like a fungus or mold?”
“I am the beam of the sun.”
There was something familiar about the words he was saying. I’d heard them before somewhere. From my past.
“I am the fairest of plants.”
“What’s he talking about?” Kevin asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure.” But deep down, I knew. I recognized the verse. “Where are the doctors? How long ago did you call?”
Heather answered, “About ten minutes ago.”
“Page them again, with a code red.”
“But this guy’s not dying,” Kevin said.
“We don’t know that,” I said.
That got Heather in gear and she made the calls.
“What should we do?” Kevin asked.
“Just try and keep him calm.”
Kevin moved his hand and it looked like he was going to touch the vine.
“Don’t. Don’t touch it. You don’t know if it’s contagious.”
He visibly paled, and let the man’s shirt go taking a step or two back.
I watched Ralph continue to rock back and forth on the table, still spewing random lines of verse. It was a poem actually, and I knew it well.
“I am the point of the lance of battle.”
“I am the God who created in the head the fire.” I mumbled to myself.
“What?” Kevin asked.
“Nothing.”
The curtain fluttered and Dr. Jenson marched in, his hair in disarray. It looked like he’d just been woken up. Maybe he had been.
“What do we have?”
“Contaminant of some kind. Vegetative.”
Ralph turned and looked at me then. He smiled and pointed his finger at me. “Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain? Who announces the ages of the moon? Who teaches the place where couche
s the sun? If not I?”
I wrapped my arms around my body trying to stem the shivers that had erupted over it. Good question Ralph. And I knew the answer. The fae. The fae were orchestrating it all.
If you’d like to know more about Portal, then visit my webpage at http://www.vivianna.net/books/portal/.
About Vivi Anna
Vivi Anna is a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling and award winning, Canadian author in paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and scifi. She's been writing since 2002, and since then she's published over 40 books and novellas. You can visit her at http://www.vivianna.net.
Find about more about Vivi Anna:
Website: http://www.vivianna.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorViviAnna
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Vivi_Tawny
Newsletter Sign-up: http://vivianna.us5.list-manage2.com/subscribe?u=a6ffb070310808ecedff493bf&id=0d3cdb7ba4
Books by Vivi Anna
Nina Decker series: (faeries and werewolves)
GLIMMER
DAWNING
PORTAL
Blackthorn Wolves series: (werewolves)
BAD TO THE BONE
HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF
BAD MOON RISING
Valorian Chronicles: (vampires, werewolves and witches)
BLOOD SECRETS
DARK LIES
VEILED TRUTH
MAHINA’S STORM
BEWITCHING HOUR
THE VAMPIRE’S QUEST
THE VAMPIRE’S KISS
HER DARK HEART
A WOLF’S HEART
The Fallen series: (demons and demon hunters)
HEART OF THE HUNTER
RELEASING THE HUNTER
SEDUCING THE HUNTER – December 1, 2014
PROTECTING THE HUNTER – coming soon
League of Illusion: (steampunk and magic)
LEGACY
PROPHECY
DESTINY
The Vampire Affair (vampires and billionaires)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four – coming soon
Threshold (vampires and shapeshifters)
Threshold of Pleasure
Threshold of Passion
Hell Kat (post-apocalyptic action adventure)
Vanquished
Inferno
The Darkening
By Caris Roane
A Dawn of Ascension Story
Plus Ascension Terminology
Based on The Guardians Of Ascension Series
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Length: 234 Pages
Sensuality: 4 1/2 flames
Fearing that his newly emerged grayle power will kill innocent ascenders, Samuel Daman struggles to keep his distance from beautiful Vela Stillwell. But the breh-hedden has struck and her light floral scent tears at his restraint. When the enemy draws them both into the darkening, a place of secret travel for Third ascenders, will Samuel learn to control his power, or will he destroy what he desires most?
Chapter One
Vampire.
A most sacred mantle lost to the desecration of those who partake of dying blood.
Vampire.
Keep thyself pure.
— Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Near dawn, Samuel Daman dragged air into his lungs, each breath like fire as he surveyed the Superstition battlefield. He’d been fighting death vampires for hours, like the rest of the Militia Warriors.
Sweat trickled from beneath his weapons harness and down his back. Blood seeped in a few places as well since one or two swords had caught skin.
He was a fucking mess.
But the death vampires kept coming, floating through the dimension on arctic air, fresh and ready to fight, dozens of them hour after hour.
He’d never seen so many pretty-boys at a Borderland before, which meant of course that the chaos left over from Darian Greaves’s defeat in recent weeks, had turned up the heat. Maybe it was a good thing to have the Commander out of the way, but his generals had hauled the remnants of his army into pre-planned hiding places before Thorne, in charge of the Allied Ascender Forces, had been able to run them to ground.
Chaos now ruled Second Earth.
The fucking war was still game on.
At the very least, the current engagement required another eight squads of Militia Warriors. Thirty-two trained men. But what the situation really needed was another Warrior of the Blood who could handle up to eight pretty-boys at a time. Eight, while a squad of four Militia Warriors struggled to slay just one.
He extended his vampire vision and in the distance saw that Warrior Santiago battled – holy shit – thirteen death vamps, way beyond capacity even for a powerful What-Bee. Santiago fought with his back to the immense monolith of the Superstition Mountains, a Latin God in the moonlight, his sword moving like a silver streak of lightning.
Samuel whipped his warrior phone from the slim pocket of his leather fighting kilt and thumbed over the surface. He kept his sword at the ready and turned in a slow circle keeping his eye sharp for more trouble.
“Central Command, Jeannie here. How can I help, Warrior Samuel?” He served as back-up to Section Leader Nathaniel. He didn’t like the job, but right now what anyone liked didn’t matter.
He explained the situation, that he needed another eight reserve squads called in and another Warrior of the Blood to the Superstitions on the double.
“Done.” He almost smiled as he thumbed his phone. The women at Central could handle anything. And no argument.
He took one last look at the field. The Militia squads were holding their own so he knew where he needed to go.
One problem remained: if he didn’t release his dark power on the battlefield right now, something he never did because of the unpredictable qualities of his power, how the hell was he supposed to support Santiago? In his current state, if even three death vamps turned on him, he’d be dead.
Yet he’d vowed never to allow that power to flow again, because the part he couldn’t control forged random streams of killing energy, a terrible phenomenon that had happened a year ago, the day of his escape from a decade of captivity and torture. During his escape, launched by Warrior Duncan, Samuel’s streaming power had taken several innocent lives.
That he’d killed his captors hadn’t troubled his conscience even a little, but he still saw the faces of those guiltless men who had died despite his most strenuous efforts to corral the power and stop the deadly streams. They lived in his mind’s eye, hunched men, little better than slaves, who had cleaned his cell, bathed him while he was strung up in those heinous ropes, and who had fed him. More than once, one of those slaves had offered him a vein, which he’d taken greedily, as blood-starved as he’d been.
Their deaths lived like a terrible fire in his soul and for that reason alone he held back.
He flexed his sword in his hand, his gaze fixed on Santiago. The warrior’s situation hadn’t improved and back-up still hadn’t arrived.
Slowly he started to cross the desert in his direction. With thirteen pretty-boys still harassing him, and not one having yet fallen, it would only be a matter of time. Shit, a single misstep on the What-Bee’s part, and he’d be dead.
Samuel needed to release his dark power, but if he did, would Santiago get caught in one of those terrible, uncontrollable energy streams?
He heard Santiago give a shout, calling for back-up.
Samuel couldn’t remember the last time a Warrior of the Blood had called for back-up.
If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t at least try, a Warrior of the Blood would die tonight and it would be on his head for eternity.
He’d just run out of choices.
Settling into himself as much as he could, he reached deep into his soul, the place where he’d found all that power, that had helped him escape a decade of torture.
With his chin low to his chest, and his gaze fixed on Santiago, he allowed the power t
o take him over, to rise in a dark, possessive tide, up and up, building an excess of strength into every limb until his quads twitched, his biceps flexed, and his molars ground against each other.
The darkness moved straight up, invading his body, searing his muscles, power that didn’t belong in this ascended world, not on Second Earth at least. No, this had always felt like something greater, like a Third Earth manifestation.
And with the power, a smoky mist rose from his body, a dark thin cloud that swirled around him.
More power followed and the bloodied sword in his right hand no longer felt heavy from tedious hours of battling, but became light as a feather.
He held his position, however, waiting to see if the deadly streams of energy flowed from him. If they made even the smallest appearance, he’d fold himself to the middle of the desert in order to keep from killing his brothers-in-arms.
But he felt nothing as he had the night of his escape, when rage had flooded his heart and mind and delivered up this power for the first time.
In fact, he felt in control of what now possessed him and when Santiago shouted again, Samuel made his decision.
The time had come.
He folded three feet behind the arc of the black-winged bastards that kept Santiago pressed against the mountain wall.
“Hey, assholes,” he called out.
Two of the pretty-boys turned around, a big mistake for one of them. Santiago, who had battled at Warrior of the Blood level for most of his life, took advantage of Samuel’s move and drove his sword straight through the death vampire’s kidneys, sending his shriek into the air and his body lurching forward into cactus and dirt. Without missing a beat, Santiago returned to battling the rest of them, his sword once more moving in swift slices.
The second death vamp offered Samuel a slow smile and in any other situation, he’d have reason to fear the significantly more powerful death vampire. A big motherfucker, this one definitely carried more muscle mass, though he matched Samuel’s six-five height.
But Samuel knew his strength, so he smiled in return, which gave the bastard a moment’s pause before he engaged.
Samuel’s sword met steel, the strike sending a heavy vibration up his right arm. He countered, and smiled as the pretty-boy took a step back. The death vampire was incredibly beautiful with long dark hair, a porcelain complexion, and an aligning of features that eventually made him and all his murdering kind look alike.