by Nesa Miller
“Thanks for noticing.” She chuckled and strolled to the foot of the bed, eyeing the baffled young man, and checked his chart.
“Kinda hard not to.” He looked her up and down.
“Not bad for near road kill. You do this often?”
Joe smirked, shrugging, as though his acrobatic moves between the two trailers were nothing more than a walk in the park. “Bike riding, yes. Being a puck, no.” He glanced at some of his more minor injuries, which appeared to be damn near healed already.
What the hell? The thought faded when he heard her laugh.
“Puck?” Her eyes widened in a mild show of surprise. “More like a rag doll. Good thing I got the big guys to veer off. A few more taps and we’d be at the morgue.”
“You…made two eighteen wheelers…hauling ass in opposite directions…veer off?” Now it was his turn to laugh. “You got a golden lasso tucked in those leathers somewhere?” Considering the fit of said leathers, he highly doubted it.
A devilish grin on her lips, she darted up to the head of the bed and leaned down into his face, making him jump once more. “A girl has her ways. Don't dwell on it too long.” She patted him on the head. “Wouldn't wanna undo the good doctor’s work.”
Joe cocked his head, brushing her hand away. “Yeah, sure. How about answering one question?”
She smiled, giving no indication whether or not she would.
“You were driving the red convertible. I remember seeing your face before I passed out. Who are you?”
The young woman stepped back with an elaborate bow. “I am Etain. Welcome to my world.”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or press the call button again. “Your world?”
“You’re welcome.” She kissed his cheek, then disappeared through the curtains. The soft thump of the door against the jamb confirmed she’d left the room. He shivered from the sudden drop in temperature.
“Weird girl,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Needing to pee, he pushed the table away and sat up. Using his left arm as leverage, he twisted, dangling his feet off the side of the bed. As he scooted to the edge, he realized there was no pain. He twisted the bandaged arm. Nothing. At that point, he noticed his bare legs. He was certain there’d been several scratches and cuts. At the least, there should be bruises. Now, there was nothing.
What the hell?
He focused on the bandaged arm, grinning as he removed the dressings. “This is some wicked mojo.” The only items left were the IV, the sling around his shoulder, and the cast on his right arm.
Having formed a theory, he ripped off the tape and pulled out the IV. Still sitting at the edge of the bed, he brought the cast up to eye level. “Time for a trial run.”
At the door, he discarded the sling, then took a chance with the cast. A couple hard taps against the counter cracked it open, revealing a perfect appendage. Another twist of the arm confirmed all was well. With a satisfied smirk, he remembered the need to pee.
Afterward, he washed his hands, checking out his head and face in the mirror. “You’re even better looking now.” With a chuckle, he dried his hands and made a beeline for the door, peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, and dashed down the hallway. After a slight detour to switch his hospital gown for scrubs, he raced out of the building.
Forget the bike. Forget Joe. Freeblood ran.
Etain stood there, a fresh set of scrubs in her arms, watching who she considered to be a “baby Alamir” pop out of his hospital room and disappear down the hallway. He was gone in seconds.
Sixty seconds. She snorted, laughing at her own joke.
Contemplating whether she should chase him or just let him go, she went into the hospital room, noticed the discarded bandages, the IV dripping its contents onto the floor, and placed the scrubs on the bed.
How do I catch something like that? Should I?
Think back to your first days. You were terrified.
Yeah, but I was also a kid, and my family had just been… She ran a hand through her hair. He wasn’t remotely intimidated. She shook her head. No, he’ll find his way a lot easier than I did. He’ll be-
Shit! No, no, no! Bad idea, Faux.
The blue of her eyes glowed, spreading out, surrounding her entire body. She had to get to her sister, Faux, before she could go after the new blood. Just as the door opened, Etain faded in a blue shimmer. She heard an intake of breath, but was gone before its release.
Emerging on a remote island, its white sandy beaches drenched in glorious sunshine, palm trees swaying, and white-tipped waves rolling onto the shore, she lifted her mane off her shoulders, enjoying the breeze, cool against her neck. Unable to resist, Etain sat down on the sand, unlaced her boots, threw them to the side, then wiggled out of her leathers, and dashed into the waves, not stopping until she was chest deep in the water. Diving under the surface, the rush invigorated her, clearing her mind, and placed things in a better perspective.
Refreshed, Etain twisted the water from her hair, running her fingers through the silver strands as best she could. Once dressed, she walked toward a lone house set back from the beach. The large deck facing the beach had several lounge chairs but all were empty, which she thought strange. The mornings were usually Faux’s favorite time for sun bathing. Shading her eyes with a hand, Etain tried peering into the house through the glass walls but the glare made it difficult to see anything inside. At the door, she knocked. No answer. She knocked again. After her third try, she turned the handle.
A naked young woman walked onto the deck, stretching her arms over head, and turned her face to the sun. Life on a remote island afforded such freedoms. Although modesty was not a virtue she subscribed to, complaining neighbors could make life difficult.
“Still hate clothes, I see,” Etain said, stepping out onto the deck.
Faux’s tail flicked out, grazing her across the cheek. Etain knew she had recognized her voice, sharing the same blood gave them a unique connection, but Faux feigned surprise as she turned. “Oh, it’s you.”
Etain swiped at the trickle of blood. “You should get a leash for that thing.”
Faux leaned back against the railing, her tail looming over her head like a viper, ready to strike. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“I didn’t sneak. You chose to ignore my knocks.”
Faux smirked. Noticing the cut on Etain’s face, she sauntered closer. “Here. Let me get that for you.” Her tongue darted out, licking away the blood. “Mmm, Alamir with a touch of taint. Such an exquisite flavor.”
Etain frowned. “Stop it,” she said, pushing her away.
“Aw, did big sis miss her widdle sis?” Faux laughed.
“Not so much. Just thought I’d pop in and see how you’re doing.”
Faux walked to the bathroom, working her fingers through her short black hair. She liked styling it to set off the small curved horns on her forehead. “More like making sure I’m still here.” She caught Etain’s gaze in the mirror. “Which reminds me. I never thanked you for getting me exiled. What a great sister, giving me up to those stupid Assbassadors.”
Etain held her gaze. “I guess it’s easier to blame me than accept the responsibility for your own actions. I told you to stay out of the conflict brewing in dc2a. There were too many snakes.”
Faux shrugged and resumed styling her hair. “I have other plans now. I’d like to visit a few old friends.”
“You don’t have any ‘old’ friends.” Etain looked at her own reflection in the mirror, happy to see the cut healed. “Get some clothes on and let’s chat.” She jumped back in time to avoid another swish of the malevolent tail as Faux walked out of the room.
“No time for talk.” She slipped on leather pants and a slinky black top as Etain walked into the room. “Hmm. Three or five?”
“Excuse me?” Etain watched her standing at the closet, a thoughtful finger to her lips.
Faux laughed to herself, grabbed a pair of ankle boots, and headed for a chair.
“Under these circumstances, I suppose three inches will suffice.”
“Nice boots, but you aren’t going anywhere. We’re going to talk.”
“You’re really getting on my nerves, sis. I have peeps to do and things to see.” Standing up, she glared at the blonde annoyance.
“Going after him will only bring you more trouble. Let it go.”
Faux smirked. “Do you know he calls himself Freeblood? Isn’t that just the best name? Freeblood. I’m going to find out how ‘free’ he is.”
“At the rate he’s going, he won’t be free for long.”
“Your time would be better spent worrying about your own ass, rather than some poor sap you turned. I doubt your new little friends will ever play nice now,” she said, giving Etain a smug look. “Why don’t you save them the trouble of exiling you and stay here? It’s not so bad.”
“Neither of us is staying. You’re coming with me.”
Faux laughed. “Are you fucking serious? Where the hell are we gonna go? After your escapades in the human realm, I’m pretty confident we’re both pariahs in the Alamir community.”
Etain rolled her eyes. “Like that gives you any grief. But you may be right. This so-called assignment is starting to feel more like a set-up.”
Faux raised a brow. “Do you think this Freeblood is part of it?”
Etain blinked, running a hand through her hair.
“Look…” Faux sighed. “Don’t drag me into your drama. Whatever’s going on between you and the Scooby gang has nothing to do with me. I have my own agenda.” She headed toward the front door. “You’re on your own.”
“You can’t go after him. Whether he’s part of their plan or not, he’s too hot.”
Faux’s skin glistened, making the tattoos on her shoulders glow. She turned, black eyes targeting her prey, catapulting Etain into the opposite wall. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Etain pushed up from the floor. “That was a dirty play. I don’t want to hurt you, but-”
Another blast of power shoved her face into the floorboards. An invisible force turned her body, wrapping her in bands of dark fire, squeezing the life out of her. The blonde warrior rippled an electrical blaze of blue light down her sides, detonating the bands.
Faux was on the move, straddling Etain before she could completely break free. “A little hurt works wonders. I’ve done more than work on my tan while I’ve been here.” Her tail aimed, its tip fanning out into the shape of a notched arrowhead, and thrust down, penetrating Etain’s chest. Faux pushed through until the tip hit the floor. “I’ve been sharpening my skills.”
Etain’s blue light faded, relinquishing the fight, the electrical pulses dissipating into the air. Faux shivered, altering the tail’s tip for an easy release. “Sorry it came to this, but I gotta get busy. I have plans for my new beau,” she said, standing. “I’ll be damned if I let those Alamir toons get to him first.” She frowned, noticing Etain’s lack of response. “I guess it comes down to me to train our new protégé. It doesn’t look like you’re up to it.”
3
Kindred
The castle was a strange place, existing in a different dimension – somewhere beyond the Alamir and the human. He called it Krymeria, his home.
Etain pushed up from the stone altar, feeling only a minor rush of dizziness. A memory floated through her mind.
“Dar.”
He was the one and only living Krymerian. His warm scent lingered, but the man with long brown hair, eyes as blue as the ocean, and seven-foot frame of lean, powerful muscle was gone. As an Alamir, she knew him as Lord Darknight, chieftain and High Lord of the LOKI clan…the Lords and Ladies of Kaos. As a friend, he was Dar VonNeshta. He had brought her here once before, after another near fatal attack. His blood had saved her life.
“Faux.” She checked her chest for any telltale signs of her sister’s assault. Her top was ripped and discolored but her skin beneath was unharmed. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Apparently, Dar’s blood had saved her again.
A scroll atop a package at the base of the altar caught her eye. Curious, she slid off the altar and picked it up. The parchment was extremely delicate. Seeing another object tucked under the stone, she kneeled and reached into the darkness. At first touch, it seemed to be nothing but cloth. However, as she pulled it into the light, the weight of it told her it was much more. The fabric fell away, revealing a grand sword, its beauty was captivating. The pommel consisted of precious jewels inlaid in bronze and a sleek, silver hilt and guard forged into the logo of LOKI. The guard, reminiscent of the wings of a dragon spread in flight and its tail curled around the hilt, gleamed like the light of a thousand stars. The blade, polished to a high sheen, was smooth as glass, its honed edges curving gracefully to a sharp point. Its scabbard was made of the finest leather work, bearing the emblem of a sword and shield in grey on a field of red and white…the Warrior Caste symbol.
Resting the prize across her lap, she tore open the other parcel to find a black hooded cloak made of a fabric similar to a fine silk. A sudden gust of wind blew the scroll into the air, causing it to twist and flutter about her head. “Aye, milord, I see it.” She recognized the bold handwriting of her chieftain:
Etain,
You are now a Lady of Kaos of the Warrior Caste. Your strength and abilities have increased threefold after this second infusion of my blood. They will serve you well in your search for the spawn and the one she hunts. Keep these mischievous souls in your sight. Do not allow the Bok’Na’Ra to turn them to the dark. More importantly, beware of the Alamir Ambassadors.
I give you my most favored sword, Cheartais. Wield her with honor and in the name of justice. Keep in mind, she will not allow herself to be used in any evil endeavor. Remain pure of heart and strong in spirit.
The cloak, spun from the finest thread created by elven hands, belies its strength and protective properties. Wear it in good faith.
One last thing. Should I hear of you sharing blood again for any reason – and I mean any reason – the anguish your spawn has inflicted will seem like child’s play compared with what will befall you.
Leave this place. Remember, I am watching over you always.
Dar
Oh, yeah. She remembered the rag doll. Freeblood.
After weeks of chasing the elusive Freeblood, Faux decided her time could be better spent. Wet from the pool, the breeze felt cool against her sun-bronzed skin. This evening, as with every other since coming to her favorite hacienda, consisted of endless margaritas, tequila shots, techno mariachi music, and a lustful stream of gorgeous men and women. Faux’s malevolent tail and wicked little horns never failed to intrigue the affluent of the young jet setters, who fell over themselves to party with the kinky demon girl.
Reclined on a bank of oversized pillows, Faux watched her party friends at play. Sensual sensations vibrated around her, the smell of sex scenting the air. It reminded her of the mind-blowing orgasms she’d experienced during an earlier rendezvous. However, despite the pleasurable company, she kept shifting amongst the pillows, trying to focus on the faces around her.
Scenes of the last meeting with Etain continued to push their way into her fantasies. The slash of her tail had left a bloody welt across Etain’s cheek.
Teach her to lie to me.
A handsome young man, standing on the other side of the pool, his body sculpted and tanned, stared at her, his dark brown eyes heavy with lust. Blowing him a kiss, a clear sign he was the chosen one…for the moment, she shifted to a more comfortable position, and admired how his muscles tensed and relaxed as he made his way around the pool. Anticipation made her wet.
Another memory flashed in her mind. Etain flat on her back. The thrill of the kill sent a flush over her skin.
It was the least she deserved, thinking she could deceive me. Freeblood will be mine…eventually. If I can ever get him to stay in one place longer than a second.
The young man now stood before her. Faux brought her ta
il up, caressed the line of his jaw, his muscular shoulders, his tight abs, and down to the prize so proudly presented.
Etain’s defiant look in the face of defeat...
Faux refused to let the memory ruin the moment. Their foreplay complete, he slid her tiny swimsuit bottoms down, inch by tantalizing inch, tossing them aside. Her tail slithered around her prey, bringing him between her legs. He smirked, sinking the smooth head of his cock into her wet heat. Faux growled her approval. His self-control drove her to near madness, drenching them both in sweat.
“Senorita...,” he gasped.
“Finish me.”
His body tensed, ready for his final thrust. Throwing her head back, she envisioned her tail poised in the air, ready to penetrate Etain’s warm flesh. Her scream of ecstasy melded with the memory of her sister’s.
Sated, Faux dismissed her Latin lover, tied a filmy sarong around her hips and left the party, opting for a walk along the shoreline. Able to think more clearly, she concluded her restlessness stemmed from the presence of a kindred spirit. Knowing her mental attempts to reach the cocky little bastard had proven successful, she grinned.
“We'll see who’s laughing this time.”
Freeblood’s explorations of his new powers had been sloppy, but effective. Proof enough he had something, but with it came a large measure of arrogance. Every time she came close, he would laugh, spout a snarky remark, and dash off. Still, she admired the young man. Anyone who could get under the skin of the Alamir Assbassadors like he had was worth the effort of the chase.