Deviant Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Three)

by Brenda Trim

  They weren’t in Kansas anymore, she thought, as she saw the purple moon in the dark sky. She knew dangers lurked the night, but this was altogether different. She was no longer on her own turf and had no idea what to expect. The knowledge that her favorite knife was secured at her waistband had offered her a measure of comfort before anxiety had her adrenaline pumping.

  She had been leery of the guy, but had figured that staying with him was her best bet of getting home until he flashed his fangs at her. He was a freakin’ vampire and her enemy! At that point, she didn’t think as years of training and instinct took over. She hated vampires and wanted them all dead, so she pulled her knife out and plunged it into her target. This was how she eliminated every vampire she’d ever killed. When he didn’t turn to ash like she expected and she saw him bleed, she panicked. She gaped at the scarlet stream, unable to believe her eyes. There was never any blood.

  A thousand different thoughts had run through her mind at once. She had no idea if he was a new breed of vampire, but knew she didn’t want to stick around to find out, so she ran.

  Her last sight of him was with her knife buried in his chest and his blood seeping past the blade. His parting comment that he wasn’t skirm haunted her and bile surged in her throat. That was not the first time she had heard the term skirm. She put on a burst of speed, wanting more space between her and the enemy. Surely, that was what he was now. If he survived her attack, he was not going to harbor any affection for her.

  She stumbled as she ran along and face-planted in the soft ground cover. Her cheek hit a rock, causing searing pain and she knew there’d be a bruise later. She planted her arms under her body and tried to push herself up. Her shaking limbs wouldn’t hold her weight and she collapsed again. The adrenaline that had dumped into her system was gone, leaving her body drained. She managed to roll over and lay there gazing through the treetops at the purple sky as she gathered her thoughts.

  She had no idea what she may encounter, but she knew she had at least one enemy out there she needed to be prepared for. Unfortunately, in her shock, she had run off without her only weapon. She went over the night she had met this vampire in hopes of remembering something she could use against him. He had been with Elsie and two other guys. Aside from the shocking news that her friend had remarried, one of the guys with them was an SPD detective who was there to inform her that one of her SOVA colleagues had been killed.

  She closed her eyes as she struggled to recall exactly what was said. The detective had told her that a skirm had killed Ellen, not a vampire. He had insisted that vampires were not evil creatures like skirm. At first, she hadn’t believed there was any such distinction until she had seen those women who were being held prisoner in the cages beneath Pioneer Square. One of the women had told her the same thing about skirm, insisting Mack needed to find the Vampire King and Dark Warriors to rescue them.

  Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if they hadn’t told her the truth as she thought about how Kyran hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke. In fact, he was lying on the ground, possibly bleeding to death. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard something overhead. She opened her eyes and glanced up at the trees, but couldn’t see anything.

  After years of hunting vampires, she recognized danger as her skin prickled with awareness. She rolled over and crept forward on her belly, trying to be quiet. The sound faded and she sat up, listening for several minutes. When she was certain she wasn’t being stalked, she took off her backpack and searched for anything that could be used for a weapon.

  Thank God she had grabbed it before she broke her window. She always kept a pack of emergency supplies ready. She cursed when she found no weapon. All she had was a small first aid kit tucked in the front pocket, a couple bottles of water and protein bars, and some extra clothes. Aside from money and her ID, that was it. There was nothing in it she could use to defend herself.

  She glanced around the dark jungle for anything that could be used as a weapon. There were numerous rocks and sticks around her and she picked up several rocks, shoving them into her backpack. The sticks were thin and wouldn’t penetrate skin, but she could certainly shove one into somebody’s eye. She picked one up and held it close. As sweat trickled down her back, she noticed the warm temperature. Having grown up in Seattle where it rained all the time and rarely rose above eighty-five degrees, it was odd to feel the heat and humidity.

  She hoisted herself up and started to walk, but fell against a tree when pain exploded in her ankle. She must have twisted it when she fell. She stood there feeling helpless and exposed. She was injured and without any real defense, unable to run if she needed to. Her day just kept getting better. Then again, that was the story of her life.

  Her childhood hadn’t been the easiest and her adulthood hadn’t been much better. She had gone from watching her alcoholic father beat on her mother to being attacked and scarred for life by a vicious, blood-thirsty creature. She refused to give power to the attack that had changed her life and left her disfigured. She continued to try and make her life better every day. She was determined to shine despite all the storms she had been through.

  Not wanting to be a victim, like her mother, Mack began training in every form of self-defense and weaponry known to man. Her life had become a routine of working as a mechanic during the day and spending her nights honing her body into the best weapon she could, determined to never again be so helpless. Needing to take her mission one step further, she had formed SOVA to support those who were victims of similar attacks.

  Daily news reports of TwiKills, which she had recognized right away as vampire casualties, had rage consuming her. Her world had narrowed down to the need to make Seattle safer. No way were vampires going to take over her city so she took it upon herself to hunt and kill her prey. She wouldn’t rest until every single vampire was dead.

  SOVA provided the only meaning she had in her life since her fiancé had left her. The bastard had been so disgusted over her appearance after she was attacked that he left and it was good riddance as far as she was concerned. Enough of dwelling in the past, she chastised herself.

  She began limping forward, deciding it best to put more distance between her and the vampire. She had no doubt he was going to be angry if he survived and would be hunting her down. She found herself hoping he lived because the idea of him hunting her down wasn’t as horrific a thought as it should be. If she were honest, the idea excited her and it had been so very long since anyone had excited her.

  After several feet, she realized she was more injured than she’d thought. Her entire body was aching from her fall and her ankle throbbed painfully. Glancing around, she spotted a hollowed-out tree trunk and crawled inside, needing to rest. When she settled down inside, she closed her eyes and listened for danger. It was surprising that the sounds around her weren’t all that different from home, with insects buzzing and birds hooting. She prayed there weren’t any damn snakes because if there was one thing she hated more than vampires, it was snakes.

  She leaned her head back and fatigue crashed over her. Her lungs were on fire from the exertion and the smoke she had inhaled, but she was breathing easier. She began to drift off to sleep, but was startled awake when a sharp pain lanced her right arm. The feeling of a million tiny ants crawling on her arms jolted her. She quickly scrambled out from the tree and brushed at her limbs. She was covered by the biggest spiders she had ever seen.

  Freaking out and screaming, she brushed them off and squished them under her boots where they landed. Good God, they were in her hair and crawling down her top. She shook her head and pulled her shirt off, stomping on the fabric. She stilled after several minutes when she felt no more movement. She hung her head and noticed the graveyard of carcasses around her feet.

  She added spiders to the list of creatures she hated. It was becoming a rather long list, she mused. She walked back to the tree and retrieved her backpack, struggling to draw a full breath. Her tongue was thick in her mouth and h
er arms were on fire from the bites. Parched, she opened a bottle of water and took a long draft of the liquid. Needing to conserve her resources, she forced herself to stop drinking despite her continued thirst. Spots danced in her vision and she was lightheaded. She remembered the first aid kit had an antiseptic spray in it and she coated her arms in the shit.

  She swayed on her feet and noted the burning only worsened. When she broke out into a cold sweat, she conceded that those eight-legged freaks were probably poisonous. As if to confirm her suspicions, her heart fluttered in her chest. She sat down hard on her ass in the springy leaves. Her vision blurred and her chest constricted. She fell back and looked up through the canopy of trees, wondering if this was the end for her. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake if she died in some jungle on God knew what planet? Just her luck she thought right before everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kyran groaned as he rolled over and sat up. He couldn’t recall ever having been taken so off guard before and it brought a smile to his lips. Mackendra was anything but predictable. It had only been a few minutes, but he noted his flesh had healed. For supernaturals, flesh was the first thing to heal, keeping as much blood inside their bodies as possible while the more delicate work of repairing internal organs took longer.

  He looked down and noted the large pool of blood he had lost. He was going to need to feed very soon and his mind went to the female that caused his loss to begin with. She owed him and he would enjoy collecting. A glint caught his eye and he picked up the blade that belonged to Mackendra. He turned the blade over and noticed it appeared to be a high-end titanium knife. He saw the skill and care in the craftsmanship. It was very impressive and he wondered where she got it.

  He knew that she hunted skirm and had even seen her in action. Mackendra Callaghan was a force to be reckoned with so it was no surprise that she had a magnificent weapon. He turned it over in his palm and smiled at the fact that she must be going crazy without it. He’d bet that she never left home without it secreted somewhere on her person. Maybe when he tied her down he would tease her with it. The idea quickened his blood and had him jumping to his feet, ready to find her.

  A noise came from the direction of the portal and had him stilling. He cocked his head and listened as several agitated male voices reached him. Whatever he had heard approaching moments ago had finally reached the area. He soundlessly stepped closer to hear what was being said.

  “There is no one here. Do you think Legette was wrong?” asked one, the doubt clear in the sound of his voice.

  “No, you prole, he’s never wrong. He wants Angus and Keira back more than anyone. You know how it weighs on him that no one but Angus can keep our race going. And, it may have been centuries, but I’m certain he remembers what it feels like when the portal activates,” said another, clearly annoyed. Kyran debated peering around the tree he was hiding behind to get a look at the group. He needed to determine if they were friend or foe.

  The third voice, which was sharp with anger, kept him in place, unwilling to chance being seen. “How would it suddenly become active? Neither Angus nor Keira can open it from another realm. And, that scrote, Akilam, sure as shit isn’t going to release his spell. Can it be the prophecy come to pass?”

  That was the second mention of the name Angus and Kyran’s mind immediately went to the only Angus he knew, their majordomo. The Angus he knew was a dragon-shifter who had come to Zeum a couple centuries ago. He was the most efficient male Kyran had ever met, always anticipating what was needed before anyone else and planning for such eventualities. He was also loyal to the bone and yet when Kyran thought about it, the male had always been tight-lipped about his past. For all he knew, it was entirely possible that these males were Angus’ allies, but until Kyran had proof one way or another, he was going to avoid them.

  He needed to find Mackendra and make sure she was safe. Although he was outnumbered and unsure of what these males presented, he was a powerful vampire capable of protecting himself, but she was mortal.

  “Oi, douche dicks, shut it. Do you smell something?” The question brought Kyran back to attention and instantly on alert.

  That answered at least one of his questions. They had preternatural senses and no doubt smelled his blood. Not waiting around to be discovered, Kyran sifted to a tree several yards downwind. He ended up in a cluster of trees and hid himself behind a large trunk as the group approached the spot he had spent the past fifteen minutes bleeding and healing. This time he chanced a glance around the bark and took stock of the males.

  There were three of them and each was tall, easily six feet, with one of them matching his height of six-foot-four-inches. Their muscular stature competed with that of his fellow Dark Warriors. Having sparred with each of the warriors numerous times, the only one he couldn’t beat was his brother, Bhric, who was built like a house. Thankfully, none of these males were that big. Not that he was planning on ambushing these males. One on one he wasn’t too worried, but he didn’t want to take on the whole group.

  Scrutinizing the scene further, it became obvious that they were either soldiers or warriors as they had some type of weapon strung across their bare chests. The metal glinted dully off the odd-looking strap. His two srads and Mackendra’s knife paled in comparison to how well armed they were. That cache of weapons was all they wore, making him wonder if they were shifters of some kind.

  He watched as they investigated the area. It didn’t take long before they discovered the pool of blood despite the fact that the dark stain was nearly camouflaged by the thick vegetation. A blonde male crouched down and dipped a finger in the liquid Kyran had left behind. When he brought it up to his nose, Kyran prayed to the Goddess that they didn’t follow the scent to him. A much more disturbing thought had him sweating where he stood. Could they detect Mackendra’s scent and track her as easily as he could?

  “It’s blood,” the blonde reported, suddenly on alert.

  “Is it Buggane blood, Lorne?” asked a male with black hair and blue eyes.

  The blonde he assumed was Lorne looked up and met the black-haired male’s stare with deep green eyes. “It doesn’t smell like any Buggane I’ve ever encountered, Caleb. Aside from the obvious smell of iron, there is a hint of pepper.”

  Lorne lifted his head and flared his nostrils. Kyran flashed to the other side of the group to remain hidden.

  A slightly taller male with brown hair spoke up. “I smell a male and a female. There is no mistaking the scent of a female. And damn, this one smells enticing. I’d like to find her.” From his new angle he had a better view of this male and saw that his eyes were yellow, but not just any yellow. They appeared to be nuggets of amber. In fact, all of the male’s eyes looked like jewels, their colors were so vivid.

  “You are such a sket, Blane. What if this creature is both male and female? Would you still do it?”

  “Get bent. Don’t let your daddy eat your dawg,” Blane retorted. Kyran was confused by their lingo and wondered what in the hell kind of realm they had ended up in.

  “Can it. This may all be another of Akilam’s tricks, those Fae jack-wagons of his live to torment us. Bury that blood, Caleb, and let’s report back to Legette. He’s going to be pissed since we didn’t get any answers. I have a feeling that we are going to be doing rotations guarding the portal.”

  “That would be a waste of resources, there is nothing going on here. And, at some point we have to accept the fact that our King and Queen aren’t coming back,” Blane replied.

  “Look here, scrote, Angus was the last of his bloodline. He is the only one who can beat Akilam with his power. And, he’s the only one who can call Civappu. I, for one, hope to have little Lornes running around one day. We can never give up hope or we may as well give up all of our lands now,” Lorne replied.

  “We will never cede our land to that scourge. Let’s go,” Caleb proclaimed, before he shifted into a dragon the color of slate in a flash of bright light. Seeing the huge bea
st, Kyran had no doubt that they were related to his Angus and was shocked to learn Angus was a king. Galvanized into action, Kyran took a step from behind the tree when the other two shifted and the three of them flew away at a rapid clip.

  He would find Mackendra then seek out the dragons. If they were related to Angus, surely they were friend not foe. Having a plan in place, he lifted his head. There was no mistaking that orange-vanilla scent. It had made him crave those stupid ice cream bars for weeks. Once he had a lock on the direction she had traveled, he set out to find the little firecracker.

  He hadn’t gone far when he found where she had to have fallen down, given the body-sized imprint in the soft ground. He continued at a slower pace and soon her fear permeated the air. He fingered broken branches, seeing only her foot prints in the trampled path she had taken.

  He chastised himself for his ongoing obsession with her. Ever since their chance encounter, he had been consumed to the point that he had followed her everywhere. Sadly, he knew every detail of her nightly routines. Mondays she left the garage where she worked and went straight home. Every other night of the week she changed into combat gear at the garage and either went to train or hunt skirm.

  The first time he watched her hunt her prey he had been both horrified and mesmerized. She was a thing of beauty in action, despite the fact that he didn’t think a human should be engaging in such dangerous activities. He told himself day after day that was the reason he had watched over her. The incessant dreams were another story altogether. She haunted his every hour and he hated that fact. She was the antithesis of the type of female he preferred, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  He was not a romantic male and had no patience for the softer side of sex. He preferred his exploits with a bit of bite. His early life had seen to that and he had accepted that he was deviant a long time ago. In fact, his sexual activities had always been reduced to sex with submissive females in brothels. He had imagined Mackendra in place of his sexual partners several times since meeting her and liked the thought entirely too much, even though he knew a female like her would never accept his proclivities. Yet, it never deterred his desire for the female.