Alamir: Blood of Kaos Series - Book One

by Nesa Miller

  Etain moaned, her body aching. She remembered Faux crying out. Dar had done something unsavory. How she’d gotten back to bed, she had no idea, adding to her uneasiness. After dressing, she made her way down the hall, ready to have a conversation with her sister. She found Faux standing in front of the dressing table, hand circling over her belly.

  Etain charged into the room. “I need to know what happened last night.” Sight of the mark confirmed it hadn’t been a dream.

  Faux started at the intrusion, quickly slipping into a robe. “A knock would be nice.” With brush in hand, she sat at the dressing table, catching Etain’s gaze in the mirror. “Please tell me you aren’t that naïve. Surely you’ve noticed.”

  She snatched the hairbrush from Faux’s hand. “I noticed the scratches on his back and the marks he left on you.” Dragging it through her sister’s short black hair, her thoughts went to the object of their conversation. How do you not notice a force of nature?

  Faux smirked, admiring the bruises on her neck. “Love bites. They don’t hurt. He’s such a tasty treat. You should give him a try.”

  “You weren’t singing his praises last night.”

  “The mark on my stomach took me by surprise, that’s all. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” She rubbed her hands over her breasts and down her belly. “If he fights as passionately as he…” Mischievous black eyes mocked her, “fucks, well…”

  “Shut up, Faux,” Etain barked, throwing the brush onto the dressing table. “We both know you’re just another conquest added to his collection.”

  With a dark laugh, she stood and pushed past Etain. “Don’t underestimate me, you sanctimonious bitch. He’s been added to mine.” She paused at the door. “I need to eat.”

  I remember the terror in your eyes, she thought, following Faux down the hall.

  The dining table was set for two. Enticing aromas floated from a row of warming trays on a sideboard. Faux filled her plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, and waffles, then poured herself a cup of coffee. Etain kept it simple - eggs, toast, and fruit.

  Sipping a glass of juice, Etain broke the silence. “Yesterday, you had no use for Dar and couldn’t care less if he lived or died. This morning, he’s your shining knight of the bedroom?”

  Faux seemed to be oblivious to her nagging sister. Moments passed.

  Etain slammed her hand on the table. “Damn it, Faux. Answer me.”

  “I am not just another conquest.” She raised her head. “He’s given me his trust. No one has ever done that. He sees me as a person, not some stupid demon girl who’s nothing more than trouble.”

  Etain sat back. “Maybe if you wouldn’t act like a stupid demon girl, people would treat you differently. Why the hell would he trust you?”

  “Me-ow. Jealous?”

  The sisters stared at each other, neither ready to answer questions about their relationship with the Krymerian.

  The ring of steel on steel broke the silence of the afternoon. Etain pushed from the table, her chair falling to the floor, and ran out to the courtyard, Faux close behind. She found Dar surrounded by four ugly demons. Bound by honor to come to the aid of her chieftain, she drew her dagger, ready to fight.

  Faux grabbed her by the shoulder. “Stop.”

  She shrugged away. “I can’t leave him to be slaughtered by those demons.”

  “He doesn’t need your help.” She motioned to the practice ring. “Watch.”

  Etain held her dagger close. Questions raced through her mind. How the hell does she know? She stole a glance at Faux, who was preoccupied with adoring her new champion. Did he share blood with her, too?

  Four Geryon gladiators – ugly, mean, and big – circled the Krymerian. One came from his right side with a mighty slash. Dar easily ducked under the blow, disemboweling the creature with lightning speed. Its guts spilled onto the ground as it scrambled to hold them in. Unsuccessful, it collapsed into dust.

  Of course, he didn’t share his blood.

  From the left, another demon charged in with a low thrust, which he blocked with a double cross down. As the blades connected, Dar kicked out, catching the demon in the face, busting its snout, spraying black blood over his bare chest. With a reversed grip on the blades, the Krymerian came up, cutting deep into the demon’s torso. In the same motion, he spun and severed the head from its body. It also fell to dust.

  She’s of his blood. And mine.

  The remaining two charged at the same time. Dar blocked the attack of the first, and parried the thrust of the second. He dropped to the ground and rolled, coming up inches away. His blades in motion, he soon dispatched one. The other immediately launched a new attack, proving to be faster and more cunning. Dar dodged, blocking some blows, but several hit their mark. Blood showed on his arms and back. The demon turned, his blade in the lead, opening a gash in Dar’s side. A second slash left a deep cut across his chest. Dar answered with a frenzy of blows, driving the demon back. His blade ultimately scored the fatal blow, piercing into the chest of his foe.

  So why is she acting so weird?

  “You see. I told you he didn’t need your help,” Faux said, a smirk on her face.

  “And I told you he’s changed too much to be trusted.”

  “If you’d have a civil conversation with the man, you’d understand why he does some of the things he does.”

  “He’s a demon, Faux,” Etain argued, tucking her dagger away.

  “Some of the best people are,” she snapped, waving her tail.

  “What I mean is he was never cruel. You were right when you said he’s not the Dar I once knew.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem to me. I don’t know what he was like before, but I like what I see now.” She sauntered toward the house. “Maybe he’s just what you need.”

  “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  Faux stopped and turned. “Keep watching.”

  “Huh?” Etain turned in time to see the man transform.

  Deep blue eyes morphed into red vertical slits, like those of a serpent. Black, leather-like wings emerged from his back. A bone-like substance extended from his knuckles, elongating into sharp claws. Spreading his wings, he took flight with one flap.

  “Holy hell,” she whispered, feeling an odd sense of, well… She wasn’t sure what she felt, but it was definitely odd.

  He circled the grounds, gliding easily through the sky, as though born to such a thing. Faux beamed with pride. Etain shielded her eyes from the brightness of the day, watching him fly over the cliffs. Banking a turn, he headed toward the courtyard.

  Something felt wrong to Etain.

  Dar’s massive wings went limp.

  She watched, certain he was merely showing off.

  Buffeted by the wind, his wings jerked him back. It appeared as if he were in control, but when his head lolled to the side and his arms flopped, she knew he was not. Another gust of wind pushed him into a nosedive. Watching, Etain felt helpless, unable to stop what was happening. She took off in the direction he headed. When he hit the ground, Etain stumbled from the resulting sonic boom, but managed to stay on her feet. Faux screamed, coming up behind her. She ran to her fallen lover, slid to her knees, and tenderly cradled his head in her lap.

  Etain stared at the winged creature, his blood staining the pebbles of the courtyard. She thought she knew these people. People? Not now. This thing is…is… What?

  “You have to help him.” Faux smoothed the hair from his face. “Don't worry, lover,” she cooed. Noticing her sister’s lack of action, Faux hit her in the stomach with a small fire blast. “Etain! I don't know what to do.”

  The jolt snapped the blonde warrior out of her paralysis. Whatever he is now, he’s bleeding. Shaken, she knelt and placed a hand on his forehead. “He's cold.” Her eyes traveled down to the slash across his chest. She ascertained it as superficial and lightly ran her finger over the wound while releasing an electrical charge. The wound cauterized, she turned to the larger one. “Help me ro
ll him onto his side. Careful of his wings. Fold that one under gently.” Faux carefully wrapped the wing toward his body as Etain eased the injured warrior onto his side. She bit her bottom lip. “This one is much deeper. He's lost so much blood.”

  “Can you do anything?” Faux searched her face. “You have to save him.”

  “I've never dealt with such a deep wound.” She ran a hand through her hair, tingeing the silver strands red.

  “There's no one else. You gotta do whatever it takes.”

  “I only know one way.”

  “Then do it!”

  “But he threatened me with my life if I shared blood again.”

  “Etain, he's dying!”

  She highly doubted the man would die, but his loss of blood was undeniable. Etain swiped at her tears and shifted, taking the dagger from her boot. A slash to her forearm released a warm flow of blood into his wound. It brought back the night she met this man, the night he saved her life, the chant used.

  Remember the words. She linked her mind with his. Dar, you must hear me. You have to help me. Tell me the words, Dar. Tell me the words to heal your wounds and save your life. You have a reason to live. Give me the words.

  Images drifted like smoke in her mind's eye, the words taking shape. Etain quietly repeated the healing chant. “Beannaigh an fhuil gur féidir le do sheirbhíseach a chur ar ais. Líon isteach an soitheach leis an saol, a thabhairt ar ais chugam (Bless this blood that your servant may be restored. Fill this vessel with life, bring him back to me).” She continued until each layer sealed. To bless his restoration, she placed her hands on the repaired flesh. “Beidh mé saol fada agus rathúnas a roinnt le leat mo cheann chothaímid (Long life and prosperity I share with you, my cherished one).”

  They eased Dar onto his back. Etain straddled his hips. “Get behind him. We’ve got to get him into a sitting position.”

  Faux scrambled, doing as she was told. Etain clawed at the neckline of her top, but the leather refused to give. Grabbing the hem, she lifted it over her head. “Move him closer to me.”

  Faux grunted, pushing the dead weight up as her sister pulled. “I don't know what you hope to accomplish by stripping in front of him. He's not conscious.”

  “You'll see. Push a little more. Make sure to keep him propped up. I can't hold him on my own.”

  They maneuvered him into position. Etain grabbed her dirk and dragged it across the upper part of her shoulder, unaware she sliced the dragon mark in two. She heaved Dar up to her chest, his head lolling onto her shoulder. “Help me keep him in this position.”

  The two locked arms to hold him fast. Etain whispered in his ear. “Fuil mo chuid fola, ar ais duit féin mar a bhfuil tú ar ais dom (Blood of my blood, restore yourself as you have restored me).” She rubbed her cheek against his. “You must drink, milord.” With a nudge of her shoulder, she tried to angle his head so the blood would trickle onto his lips. “Dar, wake up. You have to drink.” She let go of her sister’s arm for a moment, taking hold of a handful of his hair.

  Faux grunted again, her nails digging into Etain’s flesh. “I can’t hold him much longer.”

  Etain shifted her hips, getting as close as she could, forcing his face into the bloodied crevice of her shoulder.

  “Dar!”

  She felt his head jerk and his tongue dip into the fresh blood. A deep vibration rumbled from his chest, rising into a growl as his mouth clamped onto the irresistible fount. The effects of the blood were immediate. His arms came to life, crushing the source of his resurrection to his chest. Etain moaned and let go of Faux. The demon girl fell back as Dar’s great wings arced. Locked in a blood embrace, the couple lifted into the sky, airborne within seconds.

  Satiated at last, his eyes opened, realizing what he had done. He veered northwest to the mountains. After an effortless landing, he hugged his wings close as he eased her against a tree. Kneeling before her, he studied the sleeping savior. Dark lashes against pale skin, the curve of her cheek, lips daring him to taste, the rise and fall of pink-tipped breasts...blood trailing down her shoulder. “Tartarus.”

  He reached for the wound. Her skin was electric, the blood vibrant. Images reeled through his head, telling him of her efforts to save his life. A song enflamed his blood, consuming him with…desire? Not quite right. Desire was in the mix, it was all he could do to keep himself in check, but it wasn’t the driving force behind what he felt.

  He healed her wound, unable to resist lapping up the long line of blood from her breast to shoulder. Breathless, he rested his forehead in the curve of her neck.

  What is this between us?

  Senses somewhat reclaimed, he shifted to her side and leaned against the tree. As a distraction, his mind wandered to the gladiator foes dispatched before his short flight. I know the last one hit me hard. A curious finger traced over a faint scar across his chest. He twisted, taking a good look at his side. Except for minor stiffness, there was no mark.

  He glanced at Etain. “Do you never do as you’re told?”

  Dar pulled her into his lap. With an extended talon, he made a small incision in his forearm and pressed the line of dark blood to her lips, murmuring the reviving spell.

  Heavy eyes opened. “Hey, you,” she said, lips ruby red with blood.

  Just one kiss.

  “You've been a naughty girl.” His expression was stern, but his heart swelled knowing she was well. “Did I not tell you never to share blood, no matter the circumstances?”

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “Rules were never my forte.”

  “A fact I should have remembered. I have no idea why I waste my breath.”

  “Neither do I.”

  A slight smile formed on his lips. “Someone has to do it.”

  This made her laugh. Her eyes sparkled, looking up at him. “You enjoy brick walls, do you?”

  “Some more than others.” His authoritative air crumbled into an easy grin.

  “Well…” She tried to sit up. “Oh.” Her hand going to her head, she realized her state of undress. “Oh!” The other hand made a valiant effort to cover her breasts.

  Dar cradled her in his arms, ignoring her attempt at modesty. “Not so fast. Even brick walls must rest, especially when faced with another. And you need to replenish the blood you have lost.” He offered his arm. “It’s your turn to drink.”

  “But you just said-”

  “Never mind what I said. Drink.”

  “But I’ve never-”

  His stern look quieted her. Without another word, she did as he commanded.

  Swept up in the blooding, Dar tightened his arm around her supple form, increasingly conscious of the bare skin, warm and solid, pressed to his. His nose burrowed into the mass of silver locks, inhaling her scent. No one had ever affected him this way. Not his wife. Not even the demon girl. It was a revelation, one that extended back to his first encounter with this unusual young woman, a revelation which demanded further investigation.

  “That's quite enough,” he moaned, pushing her away. Seeing the look in her eyes, he tilted his head. “What?”

  “You bring out the strangest feelings in me.” She pulled his head to hers, kissing him full on the mouth.

  It felt natural, right. He returned the kiss, then abruptly ended it, shifting her from his lap, uncertain of their relationship.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, watching him get to his feet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I am not...uncomfortable.” Quite the opposite, milady. “You need to rest.”

  “So do you.” She reached for his hand. “Sit with me. Let’s just be together...as friends.”

  “If you think you can control yourself.” Dar smiled, happy to sit.

  In quiet reflection, they enjoyed the panoramic views of the valley below. A light breeze brought the freshness of the sea up to the mountaintop. From this vantage point, the great manor house looked ethereal, its white stone pristine against the blue of the water. Dar felt at peace, som
ething he had not felt in a very long time.

  “It’s beautiful,” Etain said. “How did you find this place?”

  Purely by chance, a roll of the portal dice. He liked what he had seen and decided it was perfect for a new start. He told her of his introduction to the town, hiring of local tradesmen, and their impressive work.

  “Do you like my new home?”

  “I do. With the right décor, it could be quite cozy.”

  “I find the den rather homey.”

  “A bit masculine, but aye, it’s a good start. I was thinking more along the lines of the throne room.”

  “What man doesn’t have his own throne room?”

  “Well, most men do. They just aren’t so big…or made of skulls…or on a dais.”

  Dar shook his head. “This one is rather understated compared to my last. How is a man expected to rule his kingdom from a small, insignificant…” He searched for the right word, “stool?”

  Etain pressed her lips together, trying not to smile, and blinked several times. “I don’t know, milord. It baffles the mind.”

  More in control of his thoughts, and his body, he stood up, offering her his hand. “We should get back. I'm sure Faux is worried.”

  “It’s never a good thing to leave her alone for too long.”

  Coming to her feet, she stumbled into him.

  “I have you, milady.” Safe in his embrace, they gazed into one another’s eyes, frozen for a heartbeat. Dar broke the moment, spreading his wings, and gliding off the mountaintop.

  As the tips of the manor turrets came into view, he descended until they were only a few feet from the ground. With a few beats of his wings, they landed softly. He picked up her shirt.

  Leather back in place, Etain pulled him close. “Can we talk later?”

  Her breath was soft, hot. You are a temptation. He nodded, unable to speak.

  She turned, prepared for a frantic Faux, who ran up to Dar and grabbed him in a tight embrace. “Are you okay? You look like hell.” She looked him over. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.”