“You can’t run in armour, and I need to place...” She really wasn’t sure this was a wise thing to say. She pointed to the machines. “I need to stick those wires on you.”
Loren unleashed a snarl and glared at Bleu.
Bleu backed off a step. “The female will put them on you and I will place mine on myself, following her instruction. I do not want her touching me.”
Loren’s shoulders relaxed. He rolled them and stalked to the nearest machine.
“You can change behind the curtain.” Olivia indicated the one at the back of the room. Loren looked at it, and then down at the shorts, and curled his lip, flashing a hint of fang.
“I am not sure this is wise,” he said, voice a dark growl, “You will see Bleu again.”
Bleu huffed, rolled his eyes, and spoke in their language. Loren barked something back at him. Bleu countered, his tone gaining a sharp edge, his expression hardening with it. Loren shoved him in the chest and Bleu growled and stood up to him.
“What if I solemnly swear not to look at Bleu?” Olivia bravely stepped between the quarrelling men, forming a barrier she hoped would prevent Loren from slugging Bleu again. Or vice versa. The blow Bleu had landed on Loren’s jaw earlier had left its mark. An ugly rich black and purple one.
Loren looked as though he wanted to tell her it wouldn’t be enough but grated out, “Fine.”
He snatched both pairs of shorts and went behind the curtain. Bleu followed. Olivia cringed when they began arguing again.
Loren was the first to emerge. His lip had a nice new split. Bleu came out next and she risked a brief glance at him. He sniffed and wiped his bloodied nose on the back of his hand, the action causing one of the long slashes across his chest to split open again. He huffed, picked up one of the towels from the stack on the bench, and dabbed at the wounds on his torso, wiping the blood away.
“Can you dial down the testosterone for the next thirty minutes?” she said to Loren and a flicker of something distinctly like guilt crossed his expression.
She kept her eyes on him and him alone as she hooked him up to the machine. Whenever she stuck one of the pads on his chest, his markings shimmered into being, chasing across his skin. She sneakily brushed his left pectoral as she placed the pad on it and felt him shiver beneath her caress, and her heart picked up. His doing. His gaze bore into her, intent on her face. She glanced up at him, her eyes briefly meeting his, just long enough to see that they were verging on purple again and his pupils had gobbled up his irises, turning them dark with passion.
Olivia trembled in response, the shivery hot ache returning, running through her and driving her to touch him again. She swept her fingers over his side as she placed the remaining pads on him. He leaned towards her and she looked up at him, anticipation swirling inside of her, cranking her so tightly that she was tiptoeing towards him, bringing her lips to his before she got control of herself.
Loren looked disappointed when she placed the mask over his mouth and nose and tightened it.
That feeling echoed in Olivia, and this time it wasn’t a product of the bond. It was becoming harder and harder to resist her desire to know his lips and to feel his arms around her, gathering her close as he kissed her. She wanted it as much as he did and resisting it hurt her just as much too.
She stepped away from him, giving Bleu a clear view of him. She kept her gaze on her feet as she told him which pads to stick where and waited until he announced that he was done before she moved to the computer and checked his vitals to ensure he had followed her instructions correctly.
Both Loren and Bleu’s vitals were coming in perfectly.
“What size feet do you both have?” She rummaged through the boxes of running shoes they kept on hand.
“Why is that necessary information?” Loren looked down at his bare feet. “It does not seem relevant.”
Olivia held up a pair of orange and black running shoes. “For your feet.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Bleu shook his head at the same time as Loren.
“We would rather run barefoot. How does this thing work?” Loren stepped onto the machine and grabbed the handlebars when the belt beneath his feet moved. “I see.”
“Just start out slowly. Try to keep pace with each other,” Olivia said but Bleu paid her no attention and picked up pace at a frightening speed.
Her eyes shot to the computer. He was going too fast. The machine was reading him at over twenty miles per hour already.
“Slow it down. This is about stamina. It’s not a race, Bleu.”
Loren growled. Olivia made a mental note not to use Bleu’s name or speak to him specifically while he had his top off. The effect of the bond was fascinating though. Loren clearly regretted his actions whenever he attacked or threatened Bleu, as if he had no control over himself. Did the bond drive him to protect her from any male he viewed as a threat, whether it was a threat of physical harm or a threat of stealing her away from him?
She couldn’t exactly ask him. If she did, he would think she desired Bleu and wanted his attention, or something equally as ridiculous. She didn’t want to provoke him into attacking his friend again.
Olivia studied them on the computer, already feeling the effect of Loren’s running, even though he had only been at it for a few minutes. His statistics were far lower than Bleu’s, and she felt terrible as she watched them deteriorating. They were still above the levels of an extremely fit human, measuring high above Archangel’s best hunters, but Bleu was in a different league. He showed zero signs of fatigue. His pulse was slow and steady, and his breathing was just as even and unaffected by his running.
She looked over her shoulder at them. Both men were keeping pace with each other, but there was a marked difference in their gait. Bleu had effortless strides. Loren was struggling with his and already a fine sheen of sweat coated his back.
Olivia lost track of time as she stared at his back, mesmerised by the way his muscles shifted beneath his pale skin. His markings flashed over his shoulders and down his back, and he growled, turning his head slightly towards her.
Did she make that happen?
Whenever the markings had done something similar back when he had taken her to his castle, he had glared at her as though she had caused them to flare. Did they irritate him?
They shimmered again and her heart picked up this time, pounding harder. A sudden rush of desire blazed through her blood and Loren frowned and ran faster, pushing himself. Olivia’s head spun and she struggled to breathe.
“Slower... please?” she whispered and leaned over to clutch her knees. They trembled, her legs feeling achy and tired, as if she was the one running.
Loren slid her an apologetic look and nodded, decreasing his speed.
The effect of the bond was fascinating.
The moment he had disappeared from her apartment, she had felt different. Normal. When he had returned, the feeling of being linked to him had come back too. Did it increase when they were close together and decrease when they were apart? Was distance a factor in the strength of the effect of the bond?
The nerdy science junkie in her wanted to leave the room and go down the hall to see if the effect of the bond diminished as she moved further away from Loren, and so she wouldn’t feel Loren’s fatigue or his racing heartbeat as much. She couldn’t leave him though, not even in the name of her research into his species.
One of the conditions of his stay at Archangel was that he would remain under her supervision at all times. It was bad enough that he had left the room earlier and people had seen him in the hall without her. If the doctors who had been present in the meeting caught her breaking the rules, leaving him unsupervised, they would be swift to file a report and take over. She didn’t want to think about what would happen then. The image of Loren strapped down to an operating table disturbed her and her heart missed a beat.
Loren flicked her a glance and she cursed the concern in it and the way it soothed her, reassuring her silently
that he was there with her and making her feel that he wanted to comfort her or discover the source of her momentary switch in feelings so he could make it go away.
“I still do not see why we must run for thirty minutes,” Bleu said, his mask muffling his voice.
“Enough complaining,” Loren snapped and misstepped, almost coming off the machine. He growled and found his balance again, regaining his rhythm.
It had been almost thirty minutes. There were seconds left on the clock now but she wasn’t sure if Loren would make it. His heart rate was making her woozy and she could feel his fatigue, and that he was pushing himself to make it to the end of the session.
Bleu still showed absolutely no sign of fatigue or stress.
The effects of the bond to her were startling and she had a strange urge to apologise to Loren, feeling responsible for how much weaker he was now because of her.
Bleu bitched again and then fell silent. Olivia looked up to find him staring at the corridor. She frowned and shifted her gaze there, and found Sable peering in, waving at her.
A touch of purple entered Bleu’s eyes, swirling amongst the green, and Olivia half-expected his ears to go pointy, and not because of rage.
Sable opened the door to the fitness room and smiled sheepishly, her golden eyes shining in that way that always told Olivia the huntress was up to no good.
“What is it now?” Olivia said, not giving her friend a chance to come up with some terrible excuse or flimsy lie. Sable loved bending the rules and often tried to get Olivia to help her push them as far as she could.
Sable brushed her long black hair back from her face and pulled her best puppy-dog eyes. “My old leg injury is acting up and I just need some meds. I know you have the good painkillers. Hook me up. Come on, Liv.”
Sable always pulled out the big guns whenever her nightly hunts in the city were under threat. Innocent looks and pet names were her favourite weapons to use on Olivia.
“I don’t want the bastards to take me off rota again.”
Olivia sighed. “Sable, you’re meant to rest an injury when it flares up, not aggravate it.”
Sable scuffed the floor with her heavy army boots and shrugged. “I know, but I lost track of some prey last night and if I don’t bag and tag him tonight, he might kill again.”
The running machines beeped. Loren stopped and slid off the belt, barely keeping himself upright as his bare feet hit the floor without a sound. He panted hard and Olivia breathed slowly, focusing on levelling out her heartbeat and hoping it would help him, and would stop Sable from eyeing her suspiciously.
The sweat breaking out across her brow and her flushed cheeks probably looked weird to her friend. Could she say she was sick and running a fever? She would have to come up with a solid excuse if Sable asked what was wrong with her. Her friend wouldn’t quit until she had confessed all otherwise, and she wasn’t sure how she would react to the truth. She would probably try to kill Loren to free her from the unwanted bond.
Bleu casually slid off the machine, not at all out of breath and not a drop of sweat on him.
Olivia picked up one of the bottles of water on the desk and offered it to Loren. He curled his lip at it and took a white towel from the stack on the bench instead.
Sable stared at them.
Bleu rubbed a towel across his overlong black-blue hair and Olivia noticed his ears were slightly pointed.
He spoke to Loren again, using their language. They shared a deep, tense conversation as Loren dried himself off and then broke apart. Loren approached her, his heart steady now and breathing back under control.
“We will hunt the vampire.” He used that commanding tone again, the one that brooked no argument. Olivia doubted it would work on Sable. She had a problem with authority. It was the reason she had joined Archangel.
“Excuse me?” Sable straightened to her full, but lacking, five feet nine inches. Loren ignored her. Bleu came to stand behind him, backing him up. Sable planted her hands on her hips. “It’s my target. I tracked him for weeks... and how the heck did you know he was a vampire?”
Bleu grinned. “You reek of bloodsucker.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow and shot him a you’re-one-to-talk look.
Loren’s gaze slid to her neck, landing on the point on the left side where he had bitten her, burning through the collar of her white jacket and making the marks throb in response. His eyes flashed purple and the tips of his ears turned pointy.
“What the hell are you?” Sable’s hand went for the blade strapped to her thigh and Olivia grabbed her wrist, capturing her attention.
“You saw nothing,” Olivia said, her tone firm, imitating her prince. “Swear on our friendship that you won’t tell a soul.”
Sable looked as though she would protest but nodded. “Only if I can get a closer look.”
Sable was moving before Olivia could stop her, and a dark feeling opened inside her chest, a black desire to block her way to Loren. Olivia had never been jealous or possessive before, but she couldn’t mistake the intense dangerous feeling for anything else.
Loren looked over Sable’s head to her and their eyes met. An incredible sense of connection bloomed inside her, stealing her awareness of everything else in the room, leaving only Loren. Her heart thumped hard against her chest in response.
He was on her before she could blink, his lean powerful body caging hers against the wall near the door and his hands bracing her arms, pinning her wrists above her. His mouth claimed her throat, kissing and licking, nibbling but not biting, sending a hit of pure bliss rushing through her. Her knees weakened and she tilted her head to one side, the pleasure of his persuasive kiss and the feel of his tongue on her flesh scorching her and melting her bones, burning straight through the barriers around her heart and breaking them down.
“Fuck me,” Sable muttered, shocking Olivia back to reality.
She froze midway through grinding the length of her body against Loren’s, one of her legs still hooked around his backside, her moan coming out as a strangled sound.
Loren paused at her throat, his lips pressing against her, heavy breaths teasing her moist skin.
He slowly eased back and turned his head towards Sable. Olivia became painfully aware that Sable had made a terrible move.
She had drawn her crossbow and had it aimed at Loren, and her.
Loren’s kiss-swollen lips peeled back off enormous fangs and he snarled at Sable, the sound dark and unholy. His armour glided over his body, his eyes changed to bright purple and his ears turned pointed. He snarled again and they flattened against the sides of his head, an action she had come to understand was a threat between elves.
There was such cruelty and viciousness in his black expression, violence that Olivia had felt in him before and witnessed firsthand. If he attacked Sable, he would kill her before she could loose the bolt to defend herself.
Bleu appeared between them, his black blade drawn and against Sable’s throat before she could even twitch.
“Sable,” Olivia said in a level voice and held her friend’s golden gaze, hoping the huntress would do the sensible thing and listen to her. “Put the weapon away.”
“No damn way,” Sable spat out and glared at her. “They’re fucking vampires. He was going to bite you.”
Olivia shook her head. Loren growled lower, his body coiling and tensing. He was going to attack her friend because he thought Sable was threatening her. It proved her theory about the two reasons why Loren would lose control and attack someone, but she wished it hadn’t been Sable in the firing line.
“They’re not vampires, Sable.” Olivia pleaded her with her eyes, keeping them on her. “He won’t harm me... but he thinks that you will... you have to put the weapon away before this gets out of hand.”
Sable again looked as though she would refuse. She eyed Loren and then Bleu, and then lowered the compact crossbow and collapsed it. She slid it back into the holster on her hip. Bleu eased his blade away from her friend�
�s throat.
Loren didn’t release Olivia.
He clutched her wrists, his grip too tight, hurting her bones and cutting off the blood supply to her hands. He wasn’t relaxing. Why wasn’t he relaxing? If anything, he felt tenser, closer to attacking. There had to be a way to bring him back before he hurt her or Sable. Olivia racked her brain. She had talked him down when he had attacked Bleu. Did the sound of her voice soothe him?
It was worth a shot.
“Loren?” Olivia whispered and wriggled, trying to get his attention. She steadied her heart, letting him feel that she wasn’t afraid now, and she was safe because of him. “Look at me, Loren.”
He glanced at her but then his gaze darted back to Sable and he growled.
“Loren? You’re hurting my wrists.” Olivia tried again and his grip on her eased enough that she could slip her wrists free. She lowered her hands, cupped both of his cheeks, and brought his head around so he was facing her. She kept his eyes on hers, looking deep into his and seeing the struggle in them, his fight to break the hold his instincts had on him. She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks, trying to steal his focus away from the other two occupants of the room. “Sable isn’t a danger to either of us... you startled her, that was all. She’s my friend and she wanted to protect me, not harm me. It’s okay now, Loren. I’m safe. See?”
Olivia stroked his face, smiling at him, keeping calm and embracing the warmth his protective behaviour stirred within her, letting him feel that it pleased her.
His eyes slowly changed from purple to blue and the points of his ears shrank, until his ears resembled hers again.
Loren stepped back, releasing her.
His blue eyes held hers, the warmth in them fading as new emotions formed in the link between them. Cold engulfed her. She could sense what he was going to do and she didn’t want to let it happen.
Violet and blue light chased over his body, highlighting every sweep and curve of his muscles.
“Don’t—” She reached for him but he disappeared. She turned to his friend. “Bleu—”
He teleported too.
Kissed by a Dark Prince (Volume 1) Page 10