by Claire Marta
Twitch never spoke of it, never breathed a word of his origins. He was an enigma. So why was this happening now? Was it just to distract her? Jasmine pursed her lips. No. She was sure it was much more than that. Normally, the mage was full of jokes and sexual innuendos. This was the most serious she had ever seen him. His normal dirty humour was gone.
Wyllt pushed the boat back out into the sea. His movements were confident with practised ease and he had no difficultly with the task. A moment later he hopped back in. Taking up the oars, he rowed with smooth, strong strokes. Soon the little beach that could be seen vanished as the mist thickened around them. An eerie quiet grew. Not even the seagulls could be heard now.
Wyllt sat in front of them facing their way. Although he was focused on his duty, his sharp, inquisitive glance kept falling on Jasmine. Biting her lip, she avoided his gaze. His attention was making her uncomfortable.
She sat with her shoulder touching Twitch’s. As uneasiness gripped her, she leaned into him. There was something about this fog. It had her sixth sense tingling now that they were moving through it and somehow it didn’t feel natural. Twitch’s arm came around her waist. Smiling down, he hugged her reassuringly. The warmth of his body heated her side.
“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” he assured her, as if he too could feel it. She watched as he absently brushed his hair back. The movement jostled the weird goggles on his head.
Jasmine had to resist burrowing closer. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Twitch was the last person she ever wanted to hurt. He needed to understand though, that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Smiling faintly in reply, she turned her face away. The wind had whipped up. Blinking against the salty sting of the breeze, Jasmine tried to see through the veil of white with little success.
Beyond the horizon, the sun illuminated the shimmering haze of mist. A silhouette of an island pierced the shroud, large and looming. Breath catching in her throat, Jasmine stared in awe. It was amazing. How the hell was that possible? She was pretty certain that there was not supposed to be anything there. So where the hell had the island come from?
Foaming waves abruptly collided with the side of the boat. A spray of water was sent across Jasmine’s face, breaking her concentration. Splattering in surprise, she wiped it from her eyes. Wyllt chuckled, amusement sparkled in his gaze. Even Twitch was giggling beside her.
Ignoring them, Jasmine refocused on the scene before them. The mist, though, had once more thickened and white shrouded her view. Frowning, she wondered if she had imagined it. Had it been a hallucination? Once more, obscure shapes darkened in the distance.
The splendour of twirling towers peaked high above the blanket of white. The mist cleared for a moment and a city came into sharp view. Jasmine was gob smacked. She sat, staring in wonder. Holy fuck it was magical. The place stood on a cliff, a collection of turrets stretching skywards, making it look almost like a medieval castle. It was just a fleeting glimpse before it was once more swallowed and hidden.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, unable to contain the excitement in her voice. “Is that Atlantis?”
“No,” Twitch purred softly against her ear. “It’s Avalon.”
Eric stood, staring out at the thickening mist. The airship from London to Avalon had been a smooth journey. This was not the first time he had taken such transportation. Such things were obscured from the sight of mortals. Hidden by those who used them. The magic wielders were known for their secrecy just like the Vampiria. As a born vampire, he knew well the need for concealment. He thrived on it.
Eric had been hidden in a small cabin, away from prying eyes. This was something he was used to. Now here, he stood in a very formal sitting room. A fire was crackling away in the large stone hearth. Expensive high back leather chairs had been placed around several small, tasteful coffee tables for the comfort of guests. The walls were stained wood panelling and bore many portraits of the family who resided there. The same sombre expressions mirrored in each one of them.
The place was decadent, practically from the Victorian era, in its tone and style, a time that Eric missed dearly. Sometimes he felt that time had moved on without him. For a moment, Eric studied his reflection in the window. Short, black tousled hair was pushed back off his face. He had coldly dispassionate features with well-defined cheekbones and an aquiline nose. Cerulean blue eyes, as cold and bright as a winter’s day, stared unblinkingly back at him.
Eric knew he was considered handsome. Yet he was not vain, although his attractive looks were useful in his line of work as a freelance operative. The body beneath his expensive, grey, charcoal suit was toned and muscled. Honed and forged through a punishing regime. Long ago he had frozen into immortality. His appearance and physique were now unchanging for more centuries than he cared to count. Eric was a master at hand to hand combat. He also held an extensive knowledge of weaponry which was a necessity in his line of work.
“It is not very polite to keep me waiting when you are the one who summoned me here, Carbrey.” Eric pointed out, in his perfect, deep English baritone. He turned from the window to his host.
The old man was in the process of limping into the room and leaning heavily on his walking stick. Carbrey too, was formally dressed in a fawn green suit. On this occasion however, he sported a bow-tie and not his usual tie. Shoulders slightly bowed, it was as if he carried a great weight on his shoulders. Eric knew well it was the price of responsibility. The sorcerer held a high position on the island. One that was not always easy to bear.
“Impatient as ever I see, Eric,” Carbrey murmured. “Nothing ever changes.” With each of his movements there came the creak of old bones. His solemn face was heavily lined with the passing of time. White hair slicked back off his high, wrinkled forehead, a distinct deep groove of a scar marred his left cheek. He was strikingly attractive. Yet still a pale shadow of his once gloriously handsome youth.
“You would be impatient too, if you had an evil genius to hunt and a rogue werewolf, killing tourists in Brussels, to capture,” Eric replied stiffly. He did not like being diverted from his work. These matters were important. They also kept his thoughts from a certain female.
“All pressing matters I know.” Carbrey smoothed his thick well-groomed moustache with a forefinger. Eric noted the tremor in the old man’s hands.
“You said you required my help. That a great catastrophe was about to befall you? What of your gift of sight?”
“I do not see everything, Eric, even you know that.” Carbrey sighed, as he sunk wearily into a padded beige chair. “The visions are not always clear any more. All I know is if Avalon is to be saved, you must be here. That is all I know for the time being.”
Carbrey’s visions were rarely wrong. Whatever he had foreseen, Eric knew had warranted his cry for assistance. Yet, he also knew how cryptic magic wielders could be. Getting the truth from them was sometimes not an easy task. This could be tiresome.
“My Grandson is due back for a visit,” the old man continued. “That is why I have left you to your own devices until now. I have been preparing for his arrival. I am old and do not have many true delights left in this world, save my family.”
Eric stilled. The workings of his sharp mind began to turn. This news was slightly worrisome. He knew well who Carbrey’s grandson was, although the old man had no idea he held such knowledge. They had met on several occasions.
“I assume I shall be disguised like always, while I reside on the island?” Eric asked without a trace of emotion in his voice.
Carbrey smiled faintly. “Naturally. It is as we have always done in the past.” There was a knowing twinkle in his sea green eyes, which Eric was not sure he liked.
“Shall we see their progress?” Placing his gnarled hand on the armrest of his chair, the old man turned it over. A small ball of light hovered in the centre of his palm. Without warning, it began to flare, growing in intensity. It was almost blinding. Narrowing his eyes, Eric was forced to look away.
In his peripheral vision, he noted when it dimmed. Deeming it safe, he tilted his head to get a better look. A look of concentration tensed Carbrey’s face. Fine lines of strain were already showing.
The ball had grown in size,roughly the size of a football. It floated like a self-contained bubble above the sorcerer’s outstretched hand. The centre was a churning mass of restless movement. Turning once, more fully to face it, Eric leaned towards it. The swirling white orb cleared and a picture flickered into life. Twitch sat in a little wooden boat staring out over the water. But it was the woman beside him that Eric’s gaze became fixed on. Jasmine Hunter.
Eric felt a swift jab of white-hot lust. Damnation, what was she doing here? Why had she accompanied the techno mage? They had left on bad terms in Prague. It had been an unpleasant business. One that had been left unfinished.
Two weeks had passed since he had seen her last. A length of time, he had found himself strangely vexed by her absence. Eric’s hunger for her had not abated but only grown stronger, keener. She stirred his blood like no other had ever done so before. The feisty female fascinated him. Jasmine was always in his thoughts and haunting his erotic dreams. Anger, sharp and swift, shot through him. All semblance of his once ordered life had vanished since the first moment they had met. Her rejection had stung his male pride. A female had never done such a thing before. Yet it left him desiring her more.
She looked paler than when he had seen her last. The coppery red of her short hair was in contrast to her ashen skin. The girl had lost her lustre. Jade green eyes which reminded him so much of a kitten’s seemed dulled. In fact, that was the nickname he had affectionately given her. She was his Kitten.
The yearning for him was no doubt taking its toll. Was she fighting against it? He would not be surprised if she was. The blood bond he had forged with her to save her life would be affecting her by now, causing a longing and a craving only his presence could fill. This would worsen over time, the longer they were parted. Normally plucky and independent, the pull was no doubt confusing her.
Eric was still unsure of all the changes his Vampiria blood would have on her. His kind did not share it with mortals or human turned vampires. In fact, it had been centuries since his species had done such a thing to his knowledge. Keenly, his gaze swept more sharply over the image. Her clothing was bulky, so he was unable to determine whether she had lost weight. He was well acquainted though with the slender supple limbs which lay beneath. The small perfect breasts, he had caressed. Jasmine had always been on the slim side. Her eating habits or lack of them had always been a concern of his.
His eyes lingered on her lips. For a moment he recalled their softness, their taste. Eric knew he had treated her intolerably. There had been things he had said which he had truly not meant. He still believed his motives for having her removed from her job were reasonable. She danced with danger too often. The fact she was here proved that. Yet again, she was walking into trouble.
Eric had felt her anger and her distress the last few weeks. The blood he had given her transmitted them clearly through their connection. Jasmine’s emotions at times though were chaotic, raw. They changed as swiftly as the wind, leaving him dizzy. Sometimes so clear, he felt them like his own. They were deeply piercing.
It had been a task to learn to blank them out, closing the link between them. Eric though, had relished the challenge. He knew he had not acted clearly at their last meeting. The vampire nest they had been staying within had influenced and manipulated him. This had brought out the darker side of his nature. His feelings had been violent in their intensity, savage. Eric knew it had frightened Jasmine.
The possessiveness he had expressed hadn’t helped the situation. These were things he never experienced before. His bloodline were known for their tightly leashed emotions. They endeavoured to feel nothing. Eric had done so for centuries. That was until Jasmine came into his life. Somehow she had the power to make his hard learnt discipline crumble to dust. This was more than disturbing.
He only experienced a short measure of emotions through the centuries. Even then, they were ruthlessly kept in check, buried beneath his icy reserve. Now it was a struggle. She had left him with a jumble of emotions he was still trying to process.Yet, Eric no longer felt like he could go back to a cold, unfeeling existence. His feelings for Jasmine filled a place inside him, which before, had been empty and cold. He did not understand how everyone could live with such fast changing feelings. Intellect and logic had always been far more important to him. They were absolute. He feared the emotions now permanently unleashed within him, would erode his clear, cold logic. So far, it had not been the case. Being bonded to the girl had somehow balanced them out.
Yet, Jasmine now hated him. He had gone from a hero in her eyes to a villain. How quickly things had changed. Eric wasn’t sure she would welcome his presence here. She was an unforeseen complication.
Only his comrades, the members of the nest in London, he was Master over, knew the situation. They were his friends and allies. For all intents and purposes, the world did not see the change within him. It was something he wished to keep that way. Feelings had always been a weakness. For now, he was, as they say, ‘faking it’. Eric kept his mask of formidable remoteness in place, emotions chained.
He decisively made up his mind. While he was here, Jasmine would be avoided, at any cost.
The boat was rocking gently against the wooden jetty. Cautiously, Jasmine stepped onto the dock feeling it creak beneath her feet. Her damp trainers squelched as she steadied herself. Out of nowhere, Jasmine’s stomach rolled. She had seconds to act as the urge to throw up hit her hard. With a groan, she grabbed hold of a rough post, bent over and jerked her head over the side. The breakfast she ate earlier left her stomach violently and vanished into the waves, churning some metres below.
Jasmine felt her inside quiver with discomfort. Although being sick had been unpleasant, she felt better now she was empty. The whole thing had been embarrassingly gross. She never got seasick. Ever. With a moan, she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. The cuff of her yellow rain coat brushed roughly against her cheek.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Twitch pointed out in concern. A bottle of water was held in his hand.
Grabbing it, Jasmine washed the nasty taste of vomit from her mouth before spitting it into the sea. So her friend had noticed. Maybe it wasn’t just seasickness after all.
“I think I’m coming down with something. I feel like shit,” she admitted, before gulping down more water.
Twitch raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think that vamp knocked you up do you? Are you preggers?”
Jasmine froze in the progress of taking another deep sip. Shit. No it couldn’t be that. No fucking way. A pair of familiar icy blue eyes flashed in her mind for a moment. The vamp’s sexy, sensual smile. The memory was like a spike of pain straight to her heart.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no way. Eric said he can’t have babies with humans. He said he could only mate with human vampires or Vampiria.” Eric was a Vampiria, a born vampire. They were the original vampire race, who had never been mortal. Unlike human vampires who were turned, Vampiria could bare offspring.
The last time they had been together he had punished her with sex and had been under the influence of magic. She could still remember the savage intensity with which he had taken her. It had scared the fuck out of her. Yet, she still responded to it with some dark level of excitement.
Twitch was looking unconvinced. His gaze slid down to her midriff hidden by the canary yellow rain coat. “Are you sure about that Jazzy? Frankly, I’m not sure you can believe anything that came out of that fucker’s mouth. Maybe it’s time to pee on a stick,” he murmured softly.
Jasmine felt her heart sink into her wet trainers as she handed him back the bottle. No. No way could she be pregnant with Eric’s baby. This was just the flu or a bug. Stomach finally settled, she straightened up. A chilly breeze was whipping off the water, ma
king her shiver.
Wyllt was busily tying the boat to a mooring. Jasmine didn’t want to discuss it now. Not with an audience. Wyllt’s gaze was resting on her with thoughtfulness as she turned away to get a better look at their surroundings.
They were nestled in a sandy bay. She could see other rafts moored along the pier which looked like more fishing boats. Mounds of netting were bundled at one end of them as they bobbed on the waves. She could see lobster pots lying abandoned on the jetty. The odour of fish lingered in the air, heavy and overpowering. A few other fishermen were going about their business. Like Wyllt, they wore tunics and oilskins. Some stopped to glance their way.
Jasmine could see the curiosity written over their faces. This made her wonder just how often they got visitors. The dock ran back to a cobbled road which lead upwards. Jasmine followed it with her eyes. The mist there was still heavy and hid anything else from view.
“So Avalon is off the coast of Scotland?” she asked lightly, changing the subject.
“No,” Twitch responded behind her. Suddenly confused, Jasmine turned to him. He was busy tucking the water bottle back in his bulging back pack.
“Avalon exists on another plane.” Wyllt’s voice spoke from behind them. Jasmine swivelled around. The boatman had moved closer. He seemed to have a very soft tread, as she hadn’t heard him move.
“Another plane?”
Wyllt’s face creased into a kind smile. “Yes, another dimension. The portal to get here opens in different places every few days for some hours.”
“So next time it might be off the Gulf of Mexico or somewhere like that. We could be drinking mojitos and sunbathing in no time,” Twitch told her musingly. He was watching her with a mischievous look.