PrimEVAl Sacrifice

by J H Spade

  Just a few drops of my blood last night, and she's gone back weeks of progress.

  I'll have to determine what to do when she wakes up. Will I be moving in, or will I put more distance between us? Thinking of this is tearing me up inside.

  It all depends on what happens when she opens her eyes, and I get to see what she's like.

  I press my body up against hers. Her skin is too cool to the touch, and I can't imagine giving her any blood that isn't mine.

  I breathe her name against her lips, try to give her air blowing it in silver streams into her lips. What should give her life does nothing, falling flat on her tongue only to escape in black tendrils of smoke. The scent that lingers cold as ice, reminds me of him–wood, licorice, leather.

  How is he still a part of her? He is her mate, but before we met, throughout all the years she didn't know I was searching for her, I always refused to think of her as his.

  I felt confident after last night, after marking her as mine in every way I could, he would finally be fully gone.

  I'll gladly be damned, but she will remain Mine.

  I reach into my pocket, pull out a syringe, puncture her wrist and take a sample of her blood, going mad in my head, getting ready to leave her to cast a locator spell. I must take this chance because the alternative is . . . that he's taken her. The heartbreak I feel is unbearable.

  Long ago, in my youth, when I fought endless wars, I knew I was broken after so many deaths. Then there was her, and after, I didn't care what happened to me as long as I made her mine. I took refuge in her. Made her secrets mine and made her ground solid again. Without a shadow of a doubt I know to save myself, I have to save her first.

  I look at her, and I'm afraid I won't find wherever it is he has trapped her mind, perhaps even her soul.

  It's past three in the afternoon, and all my efforts to wake her have gone unnoticed with no response. I can see she is barely in the body left behind.

  Emma

  Before I'm fully awake, I know Darius is in the room with me, leaving my bed.

  “Hey, wait. Where do you think you're running off to?”

  There’s something reserved and unmistakably dangerous in Darius’s blue fathomless eyes when he turns to face me. His body is taut, every strong line filled with purpose, and I can't do much of anything but wait suspended, withholding my breath when he begins closing the distance between us.

  I'm not sure what I expected after last night, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

  He’s closed off, again.

  He who has become my only link to the outside world, to the emotions and memories we'd shared and through them to my identity, and if he became a locked door, shutting himself off, I'd lose everything. This hurt so completely my chest felt like it would burst into flames.

  I quickly gathered my wits and sat up in bed, bringing the soft sheets over my breasts, questioning if maybe I read everything wrong last night. “Has something happened?” I can't help that my voice comes out small, dripping with concern. I begin wondering how he can make me feel so weak when I know I'm much stronger now.

  The impassive glint in his blue eyes has me wondering if I was wrong to trust my instincts when the truth is I don't know anything about him at all.

  Clearly, he's brooding about something when he stalks towards me, looking like he wants to flip me over and thrash my ass like I'm five years old. I think back to last night and try to remember anything that I might have said or done. My eyes fall to his hands, they remain fisted like he needs to pound something bloody. Immediately, I feel the rush of my blood as well as a loss of something I treasured between us.

  Why has this happened? Why, can't I read him like I did just last night?

  He says nothing to calm my dizzying thoughts.

  All I'm drawing up are blanks from what I see before me. He's been good about masking his thoughts in the cool calculated manner of a soldier’s training, so all I’ve had was the link to fill me in before. Now that it's gone, I can't count on always knowing the truth about how he feels, and I'm left gaping open, full of bullet holes.

  I think about shooting for the door, but that would be like pulling the trigger on our fragile relationship, and inexplicably, I know it's the worst thing I can do when he's in this mood.

  Trying not to catastrophize, I quickly grip the sheets with one hand over my chest just before he pulls me out of bed, bringing my tumbling body against his hard form while I steady myself by gripping his shirt. He takes his time to look deep into my eyes, drowning me in their depths. My head falls back, so I can look at him this close up since at eye level I barely reach his chest. I feel the consuming heat of his body through his uniform, feel him digging deeper, pulling at all my secrets with the way he’s looking into my soul.

  He sweeps my hair back and digs his fingers through the messy strands that are still damp from last night’s shower. I take a deep breath of his enveloping scent, knowing I've uncovered a secret of my own this close to him.

  He's not as cool and collected as I thought him to be because I can feel his heart hammering underneath my palm. Something has set him off, and I'm worried I’m somehow to blame. But my concern isn't at the forefront any longer because, through the fast beats of his drumming heart, I find a taunting hunger awakening in the pit of my belly. I try to ignore it because I don't need him freaking out, tightening security on me.

  Whatever he sees in my eyes, must satisfy something in him because he says, “You look rested. You're glowing and making it really hard for me. How do you feel?”

  My hand smooths a caress over his grey button-down shirt in an attempt to calm him, and the primal hunger within, before I respond, “Like I’ve slept for ages, but you're making fun of me. I saw what I looked like, and I'm not glowing.” An angry look flashes in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Has something happened here, or with a lead?” I hate that I can’t ask him about our link because I need more time to figure out what’s happened, what's made it go away. I wonder if it’s something just on my end since he still finds what he needs from looking at me.

  “You doubt me too much. I wonder why the sudden change in your health. You look gorgeous, what months of feeding you should have accomplished happened overnight.” I take it this has never happened before when he fed me his blood, so I shrug wondering just as he is. “You never agreed to give me a month, last night,” he adds, further excusing his anger.

  I roll my eyes at him and say in all seriousness, “If I remember correctly, I walked into the shower after you and wasn't dragged in there. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't plan on staying longer than I first anticipated.” I admit defeat because it's not what I planned, but buzzing like I do from him just holding me, I don't think I'll be running off anywhere soon.

  “Now tell me, is something wrong?” I press, needing to know why he's acting like this.

  His gaze runs over my face with a mournful smile on his lips. And when his grip falls to my throat, I know exactly what he’s doing. We are landmines to each other, cautiously treading, feeling our way through until we are in a safety zone again.

  He deflects the small gesture and the seriousness of his thoughts when he tenderly traces the quick skips from the beating pulse lying under my skin and lightly says, “No, you just slept longer than I expected after feeding you my blood. It’s nothing, forget it. Hungry?”

  I wonder if he’s reverted to telling me lies, seeking distance between us again, or he's really satisfied by what he sees.

  I follow his lead and put up a pretense like I’m not falling apart inside at the loss I feel. “I’m starved, what’s for breakfast?”

  “More like an early dinner. And I'll whip you up anything you're in the mood for.” His arm tightens against my waist as he brings me closer to him, making me feel how much he needs me. I smile up at him as he begins to lower his hand and starts tracing my backbone. “But first, tell me, do you feel different after last night . . . taking things as far as we did?”

 
That’s when I realize, I’ve been so dumb, and I’m really overreacting. We both are.

  He’s just worried about me. He warned me sex would hasten the change, and we came damn well close to it last night. He must be terrified, and I'm partly to blame because I pushed him into a closed bathroom while I recklessly flashed my naked body.

  I don't have to lie to him when I say, “I feel wonderful, really. No complaints here. Well, one if I’m honest.”

  He smiles leisurely–warming me further, clearly, he knows where my mind is going. “Yeah, and what’s that, capricious girl?” he asks, twisting a strand of my blonde hair in his hand. He tips my head back further by applying enough force, breathes me in, and kisses my neck. I feel him lightly stiffen when I hoarsely say, “Well, you should know breakfast in bed is a must on the day after especially since you didn’t even have to fine dine me.”

  “I screwed this up, didn't I?” Although his voice is rough, his tone is lighthearted, yet I'm too aware of how tightly he's holding me, almost like he’s afraid I'm going to bolt.

  “Surprise me. It's not too late to make it up, you know? How good are your culinary skills?”

  “Oh, you just wait and see, gorgeous. Go,” he lets me go enough to point towards the bathroom, “put those clothes on I left for you on the countertop, so I can show you around and prove to you how I don't do anything vanilla.”

  He looks hesitant to let me go, but as I take a step back and turn, I can tell he's pulling in some restraint when he playfully slaps my butt, telling me not to keep him waiting long.

  “I've waited long enough. I'm waking you up tomorrow morning at seven sharp, so we can get started with your defense training.”

  “Can't wait, no pain, no gain, right?” I remark, shutting the door, leaning up against it, and taking several deep breaths to get hold of my mixed emotions because I can't believe, even for a second, I forgot how intense he is.

  *****

  My floor is a vast maze of rooms and hallways. It's like a luxury apartment complex built all in one floor. It has its own state of the art gym, with indoor pool and sauna as well as a fully- equipped chef’s kitchen. Darius is grabbing my hand, leading me into the very spacious kitchen and dining area combined, when I catch the view out the French-style windows.

  “Wow, this is breathtakingly beautiful,” I say, now leading him in my excitement towards the windows.

  “How high up are we?” I’m gazing, fascinated and stunned by the panoramic view of thick forested woods, shaded in multicolored rays of burnt sienna, lavender, and midnight blue hues.

  “We are about 300 feet on a mountaintop and completely off the grid. The terrain is very difficult to navigate during the day and almost impossible at night. There are several cliffs that sneak up on you and there's no road access as of yet. I've contracted to start building a bridge and road, but that will take just under a year with how difficult it is to get materials here. The only way to get here is by chopper.” A none too subtle warning, he advises, standing behind me as his arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me up against him.

  “Great, so there's really no point in you tracking me, or bargaining with me for a month since I won't be able to get off this deserted mountain unless I learn to fly one of those,” I say tersely.

  One thing I've learned about Darius is, the man knows all about perfect timing. He is very precise about what words to use to get me as docile as a white homing pigeon. The way he can convince me with well-executed phrases and gentle gestures, lays it all down for me—how capable he is at shredding through my defenses, making my current concern seem like crumbs scattered in the wind. Makes me wonder if perhaps my training started early.

  He presses his hand over my neck, it's familiar force leading me away from the window, setting me towards the mahogany banquet-size table and says, “Come, have a seat while I make you a favorite dish of yours and maybe it will trigger a memory.”

  I might not know anything about him, but Darius knows exactly how to maneuver me where he wants me.

  Without objection, I turn away from the window, letting him take me, no longer interested in watching the night close over the darkening landscape, shutting out the powdery hues.

  He offers the seat, and knowing all I've learned about him, in the short time we've been together since my rescue, when it comes to Darius, it's not about gallantry, but more about control. I still easily give in, perching my body into the seat like the well-trained dove that I am with a smile of gratitude placed gently on my face. The night is still young, after all.

  *****

  He heads over to the grill-top double range, powering on the gas with the sudden flick of the bright flame. There’s no match in sight, so I’m left perplexed with a frown slicing my brow. I take a moment to watch his towering frame dominate the kitchen as if he's in a battlefield completely in his element.

  “Who taught you how to cook?”

  When he answers, the deep sound of his voice has the effect of warm drizzled honey over my stomach and I begin to think that maybe food isn’t all I hunger for. Annoyed at my consuming need for more of him, I hug my arms in an attempt to get my craving for his blood under control.

  “My mother, you could say she had a natural talent for it,” he claims.

  He returns to his task of cooking dinner, selecting the ingredients and utensils, thankfully getting lost from my vantage point in between the endless dark cabinetry and commercial style stainless-steel refrigerator.

  Walking back to the stove, he catches my eyes, widening in surprise because I can't imagine him as a boy, learning to cook beside his mother. It just doesn't fit with the man presented before me now.

  So, he explains, “I trained for battle from an early age, so the rare times I was home, she made it her priority to teach me everything that might later become useful while we spent time together.”

  “She sounds lovely, what was she like?” I ask offhandedly, being careful not to show how I hang on his every word, hoping for a glimpse of the things I can't read anymore.

  His jaw becomes tight, a reflexive tick skipping as he answers, “Resourceful. If anything could be said summing her up, it would be that. You remind me of her sometimes.” His warning stare jumps across the room to grab me, making me want to drop the subject of his mother, but this time I pay no heed.

  “I would like to meet this woman I remind you of, or wait . . . could it be I did? With us being so close. You did say we spent a year together. Did you not introduce us if I meant so much to you?” I can't hide the rich sarcasm from my voice, and I frown, wondering what set me off.

  “She's dead, Emma,” he says as a way of putting the conversation to rest. When I'm about to apologize, while noting that something in me refuses to let it go since he doesn't really answer my question, because she could have died after I met her, a soldier enters the room.

  The apology on the tip of my tongue flies out of his lips instead, “I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir. But there's an issue downstairs that requires your immediate attention.”

  Darius’s muscular body immediately springs into action as he moves towards the entryway.

  “Is Cole alright?” he asks of the soldier waiting for further instructions, stopping in front of him.

  “Yes, Sir, but he asked for you, saying this couldn't wait.”

  Darius looks over his shoulder at me, I can tell it's to determine what to do about me, but speaks with the soldier. “Make sure the steaks don't burn. Should be ready in about seven minutes and pour the chanterelle sauce over them if I'm not back by then.”

  To me he says, “Emma, this is Jeffery. Try to stay out of trouble.” Turning back and heading for the exit, he instructs, “Jeffery, get Emma something to drink while she waits for me to get back.”

  “Got it, Sir.”

  Darius clears the room in seconds, too quickly for me to react. Once I realize he's gone, I immediately push back my seat. The legs from my chair scraping across the wooden sounds loud in the room as I ju
mp out of my seat to follow him. The soldier named Jeffery steps in my way. “You don't want to disobey him,” he admonishes.

  “Excuse me, but you’re making a mistake thinking you know anything about what I want. Step aside.”

  He crosses his arms, probably misjudging by thinking my innocent looks match the person I carry inside.

  Huge mistake.

  He doesn't know I'm foremost a slave to my desires, and the only salve I have is Darius’s presence. Darius takes up all presence in my mind when he is near, enough so, that I don't have to keep the psychotic voice of the man who trapped me, under a tight leash. Now the monster shows his inner workings, booming directions through my head to drop the soldier and get out. I will not listen to Eros, but I’m fucking tired of making myself crazy with rules to abide, so I'm not ripping heads off all the time.

  But sadly, as they say, ‘out of sight out of mind’. I truly lose sight of it all and without even acknowledging what I'm doing I find the soldier’s hunting knife on his thigh, slipping it free from its safety harness before he can blink and register what's happened.

  The knife is laying cold against his smooth neck, as he tries not to swallow, scared of cutting himself on its razor sharp edge.

  “Now, shall I introduce you to the real Emma, and would you like try that again?” I hiss barely above a whisper, not wanting to draw attention.

  “You don't understand. We aren't here to use force against you. We don't even matter, and I'm not afraid to die. If I step aside, you will be stopped by the self-sustained computer, and it won't care how it stops you as long as you are contained,” he says carefully, while trying to move as little as possible. “You are being monitored as we speak, so I hope the camera angle is just right that my body's covered your actions, and your movements were too fast that it didn't register the knife you are threatening me with, for your own sake.” He proves his point further by angling his head to show me the camera towards his left a few feet behind him, inching his body to cover the threat of my body from the feed while giving himself some breathing room.