Her Insatiable Dark Heroes

by Her Insatiable Dark Heroes (lit)

  “Save the city from a killer tornado, and evil comes out to play.”

  “Keep talking to me, kitten. Tell me what you see on screen.”

  She adjusted her posture to observe more closely. “The copters are advancing in a wedge. If you fire on the first one, it won’t take the others out, will it?”

  “Nope.” Zion smashed his palm down, disconnecting from Bill Beau’s power plant. “Not at the current distance.” Within moments, he set up search parameters for another supply of energy.

  “Changing formation,” she announced. “Forming a horizontal line looks like.”

  “They’re positioning to blast our cannons with a sustained volley.”

  “Their big fat chance to knock off the Dark Brothers.”

  “They think I’m out of ammo energy. Not yet, kitten.” He didn’t tell her he’d fed off the fat boar boss, Bill Beau.

  “How are you going to get them all fast enough? With only four pulse cannons?”

  Zion lit up the rest of their weapons’ capability as a visual, on screen.

  “Okay,” she enthused, rocking forward.

  “Lock on copters.”

  Six thread-thin red beams lasered through the early night sky. The line of copters slowed their advance. Evidently, whoever was in charge hadn’t expected that level of striking power. Or Bill Beau had figured out who had swiped his power supply and sent a warning.

  “They might back off,” Zion hoped. Not counting on any un-hatched fowl, he grabbed the small energy source his search had discovered, feeding it into his system. He didn’t care, since it was only the personal source of a Corrupt loan collector.

  “Amber light,” she reported.

  After a glance, Zion ordered, “Contact allowed.”

  “Who the shit-ass hell do you think you are?” The image of Bill Beau’s top enforcer, Scratch Bowler, scowled on the screen, looking like a contestant in the ugliest bull toad competition. His tilted trademark bowler hat only emphasized his bulging features and his widening sneer.

  Wendy shrank back.

  “You should be grateful, you mouse-brain muck. My brothers and the other Super Brethren saved your scroungy hide.”

  “Yeah, your Superhero brothers.” He spoke it like a curse. “We got ‘em on ice waitin’ to be carved up for research purposes.”

  “No, you don’t,” Zion spoke with utter confidence. “The only thing waiting on ice is a brain with your name on it. I hear you’re due to get the replacement soon.”

  Scratch Bowler snarled with a deadly viciousness most people fled from, their euphemistic tails tucked between their legs.

  “They might as well be resting on ice waitin’ for the laser’s slice. Yer all dead. Worse than dead. I might do a little pre-carving. Let you feel the agony before the final lights-out.”

  “Advancing, the copters.”

  “Stop the attack,” Zion snarled the command. “Now. Or the copters will be feeling the agony before their lights go out. Got it? Or has your brain gone completely dead already?”

  Baring his teeth like a dog preparing to snap their bones in two, Scratch Bowler leaned forward. “Return what you stole. Or it’s yer blazing funeral.”

  “First it’s ice, and then it’s fire. Make up your puny mind. Or have someone do it for you.” Zion glared his wrath, his personal vendetta. Because of ilk like Scratch—the Brain Unhatched, as he was known on the streets—his parents and so many of his friends had either died or suffered.

  “They’re leaving,” Wendra informed. “The copters. Slowly.”

  Flicking his gaze from Scratch’s beefy mug, he saw the copters had dropped back from their former position.

  “This ain’t over, Dark, the Dead. Yer gonna regret—”

  Zion cut contact. In an instant, Scratch’s image vanished. Keeping the red beams trained on the copters as they gradually retreated, he scanned the skies and a wide perimeter around the building for a sneak attack. “Wendy, check the panel for blinking lights.”

  “None. Is that good?”

  “Yep. Keep watching.”

  “You raided Bill Beau’s power plant?” The awe in her voice pleased him, even though he was concerned about her level of fear.

  “It was the only large available source of energy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Wendy, we’ve known for quite a while it would come to this.”

  “Oh. Yeah, it would have to, wouldn’t it?”

  He wished with of every atom of his being he could tell her they were fully prepared to take on Bill Beau and his Corrupt force, all his allies, and defeat them. He couldn’t. “We’ve made preparations. Now they’ll speed up.”

  Zion wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. With the copters fading into the darkness and no longer close enough to strike, he switched off the pulse target beams, yet kept the weapons ready.

  “Everything is dangerous. Anyway,” she shrugged weakly, “that was one reason I jumped to fly.”

  “Wendy—”

  “Pale green button,” she interrupted.

  “They’re home. Or getting closer.” Zion’s blood quickened, and he hoped like raw hell his brothers were all okay.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Why not let you know mentally?”

  “They might have tried and picked up the danger we were in.”

  “Danger. Is there anything in their way? That you can find?”

  “Looking now, kitten.” Zion narrowed the screen’s focus onto his brothers.

  “How soon?” She impatiently squirmed.

  Zion’s heart nastily skipped a beat. His brothers were being carried back by other Super Brethren, hanging limp between them as they soared ever closer. Attempting to appear at ease, he widened the screen’s view and performed another search of their perimeter. To his great relief he found no Super Bads lurking. He coded in the quick opening of the nearest underground door.

  “What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Wendy, you are going to stay here while I go open the door.”

  “Something is wrong.”

  “Are you going to behave? Or do I have to strap you to the chair?”

  Anger seized her, making her rigid against him. “How do you know I can’t help?”

  “I won’t know anything until...” Zion shut up, since he was only making the situation worse.

  “I knew it.” Mutinously, she crossed her arms.

  Standing with her in his arms, Zion whirled back around and placed her on the chair. “Wendy,” he warned, leaning over her. Their gazes clashed, their wills at odds with each other. He had the crazy urge to kiss her, plunder her mouth until she blazed passionately. Later, he told himself. Then scowled. “It’s not safe. Their powers could be dangerous right now.”

  She didn’t speak. She fumed. Fiery sparks leapt inside her eyes, so intense that it made him marvel. Forcing himself to straighten away from her, he frowned another warning then spun on his heel. When he heard her start to rise, he loudly warned, “If you don’t obey, I swear on my ass your pretty ass is getting a proper whipping.”

  She stopped moving. Relieved to his core, and stunned by his own threat, Zion strode toward the door only he could release with his touch. Stuffing down his terrible concern for his brothers, he waited until he heard the soaring rush of their arrival.

  “God,” he uttered. Appearing almost lifeless, his brothers lay slumped against the concrete wall of the outside corridor entrance where the Super Brethren had placed them, he knew, at his brothers’ request.

  Springing forward, he grabbed Zent beneath his arm, swiftly pulling him just inside the door. Returning, he reached down for Zavier, who weakly waved his hand toward Zotorro. Not stopping to debate the matter, he hauled his youngest brother in, placing him beside Zent. When he returned, Zavier weakly attempted to rise on his own. Whirling his brother around, Zion slid his arms under his armpits and zoomed backward.

  With super-speed, he prop
ped Zavier against the interior wall then spun back, rapidly closing the door and activating the security. The next second, he palm-hit the scanner on, a system he had installed to track and diagnose the level of their health. He also used it to study the progress of their powers. In moments, the analysis was displayed on the small wall screen.

  “No!” Wendy’s shrill and shocked voice had him pivoting to face her. Before he could glare another warning, she flung out, “Two white lights!”

  Zion flash-sped past her. So far, according to the analysis, his brothers were severely fatigued but not damaged beyond repair. And the two white lights could only mean another major emergency, since the Mayor’s office possessed that code. He tapped open the screen.

  “Mayor Rockamn,” Zion addressed the flame-haired, gaunt-framed man who proudly sported an outrageous handlebar mustache.

  “Got a little message from Bill Beau, the personal kind. He says your brothers, Zavier, Zent and Zotorro are leaning toward the dead side. He’s suggestin’ we form a mutually beneficial partnership. Also, Mr. Beau wore his confidence like a hat, saying I’ll be even more interested in a partnership once he arranges the demolition of your penthouse.” The Mayor paused, raising his spiky thick eyebrows for emphasis. “In an offhand manner, he mentioned the crash would be spectacular. Ya know, in its own giant footprint. Or dangerously spectacular, as in timber and everything below is crushed.”

  “Colorful, Mayor. My brothers aren’t pushing up donkey pasture daisies. A bit worse for the wear. Their recovery is imminent.”

  “Then they’ve returned.” The Mayor’s eyes sparked with speculation. Zion hardly blamed him. He’d always operated honorably and in the best interests of Chrontropolis since taking over the reins. However, he’d done so knowing he had the backup of the Super Brethren.

  “Just opened the back door. Gave them the quick once over.”

  “That so. Can’t recover soon enough. Bill Beau doesn’t know the meaning of the word bluff.”

  “With an iron fist, who needs to bluff?”

  Zion whipped his head around at the sound of Zavier’s voice. His brother’s stride was slow as he moved beside him, standing before the screen.

  “Dark Zavier,” the Mayor greeted, hope brightening his tone. “Zent and Zotorro?”

  “Recovering. Should take us about half a day’s time,” Zavier answered.

  The Mayor nodded sharply. “Long as I know you’ve got my back, I’ll tell Bill Beau which hell he can show up in.”

  “Give Bill Beau a little rope, like you’re considering his offer.” Zent suggested, moving next to them, his gait as slow as Zavier’s.

  “And hope it hangs him while you all heal up to bronco-buckin’ strong?” The Mayor’s good-natured gleam returned to his gaze.

  “Talk about riding a bronco twister,” Zotorro added, sidling up to them. “That was tougher than riding that last dragonhorse bronco. The one I beat you on when it was the good times.”

  “Yeah? I tell a different story, Dark boy. You got the easy ride.” The Mayor winked. “Say, where’s that fire dancer I heard you all rounded up?”

  “Right here under my arm,” Zotorro proudly announced. “She’s propping me up right now.”

  Zion jerked his gaze to Wendy’s face. Aggravated about covered her current expression, except for the compassion in her eyes. Holy wowza, he watched the subtle orange flare of her flame animate his brother, ‘propping’ him up. She’d probably fed her flame into all of them, speeding their recovery. Hell, he didn’t knew whether to hug her like no tomorrow or turn her over his knee and spank her for risking her own beautiful hide.

  And for disobeying him. Although how could he upend her and spank her for coming to tell him what he needed to know? The spitfire minx smiled at him, gorgeous as all sin. She knew what he was thinking.

  “Anything else, Mayor?” Zion jumped in before Rockamn could ignite Wendy’s temper. He ogled her like a bull eyeing a new heifer, even though he masked it with a polite manner. “I’d like to tend to my brothers and keep on the alert here.”

  “Sure thing, Dark Zion,” he drawled. “Later on down the road, Dark Boys.” He blinked off quickly, evidently satisfied with what he’d discovered. The Mayor was never shy about what he wanted, or expected, from them.

  Whirling around, Zion swept his concerned gaze over his brothers. “Can you make it to the restoration room?” Since they weren’t on the verge of collapse, he continued, “I’ll stay on watch here.”

  “Bill Beau?” Zavier raised a commanding brow. “Fill us in first.”

  “This is stupid,” Wendy interrupted, fiery with her impatience. “I’ll tell you about Bill Beau in the whatever, the restoration room. Where you three obviously belong.”

  Zion cranked his mind wheels, thinking for what felt like long moments before giving a curt nod. “Wendy can give you the outline. I’ll fill in the details later. Besides, if you don’t take her with you, I’ll be tempted to spank her bare butt for disobeying me.”

  Still, by hell, there was one thing he did want from her and Zion wasn’t denying himself. “She used her flame to speed up your healing. Right?” he demanded, stalking toward her.

  “It worked,” Zavier spoke practically.

  “It worked to keep the Mayor galloping along with us instead of falling beneath the hooves of the Corrupt.” Zent smoothed the situation with his tone.

  “If Muddy Mayor Rockamn hadn’t seen us on screen, we’d be playing catch up to keep him tight in the saddle with us,” Zotorro pointed out.

  “Muddy?” she asked, her gaze glistening, bright with apprehension.

  Zion decided he liked it. “Muddy,” he growled, feeling like a predator as he gazed down at her. “Because his butt always found the muddiest part of the rodeo arena.”

  “Oh.” Her ripe, deep-pink lips formed a perfect ‘O,’ so kissable he ached.

  “Torment,” he rasped above a whisper. “Come here.”

  She pressed into Zotorro’s side. Zion gripped her wrist, forcefully tugging her flat against him. She heaved rapid breaths and his chest appreciated the high soft thrust of her breasts. Anchoring the back of her head with his hand, he swooped down, taking her mouth. Taking the lush texture of her lips.

  He’d thought to punish her with his savage kiss, and then kiss her with passion. Instead, he pillaged her mouth for the sheer pleasure of it. When she responded, gradually kissing him just as fiercely, he plundered her pliant sultry lips until they both panted ragged breaths.

  Seizing her mouth in a final ruthless kiss, he abruptly parted their lips, his hand fisted barbarically in her hair. Their eyes penetrated into each other, scorching. Zion had never felt this alive.

  Releasing her, he stepped back and spun towards the screen. It was either that or drag her off and plunder her with his cock until he couldn’t stand up.

  Chapter Nine

  Dark Zotorro of the Valorous

  Zotorro gathered Wendy against his side, grateful he’d gained enough strength to hold her up on her own instead of her flame energy boiling through him and bringing him back to life. She sagged against him, her hands finding his chest as she sought to remain standing.

  “Never seen him do that before,” Zent muttered.

  “Hope not,” Zavier ribbed dryly. His gaze scanned Wendy’s face and her body, concern darkening his eyes. “Is she okay?”

  “I’ve got her.” Zotorro hugged his Wendy close. “She flamed me the longest. My strength is surging back.”

  “Restoration room,” Zent prompted. “My head is still spinning, fast as that tilt-a-whirl hell beast we rode to extinction.”

  Together, the brothers walked at a tortoise-slow pace toward the elevator. Once inside, they all slumped against the slick wall and shut their eyes, simply breathing. Cuddling Wendy’s head against his chest, Zotorro could feel she’d drained herself helping them. Gratitude overwhelmed him while pricking bolts of energy zinged through his veins, healing him. From past experience he knew his brothe
rs were also feeling the re-animation of their powers.

  Both the revitalization of their bodies and the rejuvenation of their powers occurred at once, constantly consuming their returning strength and keeping them in a weakened conditioned until the tipping point when their healing accelerated on all levels.

  Stronger than his two brothers, Zotorro tucked Wendy close, leading the way out of the elevator. Even though she’d been depleted, her flame remained vibrant and she strengthened quickly, her force thrumming through her flesh and warming his body.

  Once they entered the bright silver restoration cubicle, she asked, “Am I burning you?”

  “No, princess. It feels good.” He hugged her a bit closer.

  “It’s true. Silver radiant rehabilitation. It does exist. How?” She swiveled her head in awe.

  “Zion discovered, along with other Super Brethren inventors, that healing could be quickened using full-spectrum light intensified by the mirror sheen of silver.”

  “Where do you find full-spectrum light panels?”

  “We don’t.” Zotorro led her to one of the plain silver benches and gently swung her beside it. “Zion can construct them from the crystal chips he grows.” At his indication, she lay down on the bench, as his brothers were now doing.

  “How long?” She watched him move toward another bench.

  “When you feel like static electricity is jumping out of your skin, darlin’,” Zent answered.

  “If I catch the place on fire because sparks leap out of my skin, don’t blame me,” she returned a slice to her tone.

  “The silvered particles won’t allow an actual fire,” Zavier explained, amusement underlying his voice.

  “Yeah, you just don’t know my powers. I am Flame Woman, hear me crackle, pop, sizzle and roar.”

  Collapsing on the bench, Zotorro stretched out on his back, listening to Zavier speak on the level of power.

  “Clothes?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it work better—?”

  “The particles penetrate with or without, darlin’,” Zent interrupted. “None of us are going to complain if your bare butt is shining at us, though.”