Deviant Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Three)

by Brenda Trim

  A slight lightening of the sky brought him out of his reveries. The jungle surrounding him was thick with vegetation, but the tree tops wouldn’t be enough to provide cover. He would need to find shelter soon. He wasn’t going to take chances that there was no sun wherever they were. He increased his pace and several minutes later, the citrus aroma intensified telling him he was closer to Mackendra. When her fragrance putrefied, he broke out into a sprint.

  His heart was pounding as he kept his eyes peeled for sight of her. He worried she encountered trouble and was injured… or worse, dead. His heart lurched at the thought and his vision darkened. The idea did not sit well with him at all. This realm had better pray she was okay or he would unleash hell-fire on it.

  He came to an abrupt halt moments later. She was fifty feet from him and he immediately sifted to her side. He knelt down next to her and placed his large palm on her cold, grey face. The sight of her lifeless body had him shaking with anger and fear, taking him back seven hundred fifteen years to the only other time he’d experienced this maelstrom of emotions.

  Thud,

  Thud,

  Thud.

  A menacing laugh was followed by a wet, tearing sound, thick and obscene, something out of a nightmare. A creature unlike any he had ever seen entered his parent’s bed chambers. It was well over seven feet tall and had huge black horns on its head.

  “Hold her,” the demon ordered his minions. His mother fought back and screamed obscenities at the demon. The demon’s lips pulled back to reveal huge fangs and before Kyran could blink, they were in her throat. Kyran shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. He wanted to run out from his hiding spot and help his mother, but he was no match for the huge creature.

  He closed his eyes. “Please don’t hurt me,” came a whispered gurgling plea from his mother. He glanced up to find his mother’s throat torn out.

  The demon smiled and ran his hand down her cheek. “Shh, bitch. This will only hurt, a lot.” His laughter was filled with evil intent. Then he shredded the green, velvet gown from her body.

  Unable to look away, Kyran watched as the demon grabbed his mother’s breasts, sinking his claws in deep and ripping one from her body. He sucked the nipple of the other breast and spread her thighs while she cried. When the demon surged his large, grotesque penis into her body, she turned her head away and met Kyran’s eyes where he was hidden in the wall. As he prepared to surge from the closet to her aide, she shook her head, not wanting him to help her. The demon ripped his mother to pieces as he ruthlessly raped her.

  Kyran swallowed back his bile and was grateful that the demon took pity and beheaded his mother after he had his fill. No female should live with that memory. It was then that he realized he was locked with his father’s weapons. Consumed by rage, he grabbed his father’s broadsword and flashed behind the larger demon and swung the heavy blade separating sinew and bone from flesh, decapitating the creature before he could violate his mother any further.

  He knew that his younger siblings were safely hidden, but wouldn’t remain that way if the other demons had their way. The thought of his family being harmed further had a red haze of rage descending over him.

  The next thing he knew, he stood next to his mother, chest heaving and covered in gore. He had no recollection of doing so, but he had killed every last creature in the castle and the carnage was awful. He had no idea how he was able to overpower anything. He may have hit adulthood, but he hadn’t physically matured and was still a weak male.

  Belatedly, he realized that he had come into his power as he remembered sifting from the closet. He had waited his twenty five years to become an adult and discover what he would be capable of, yet he couldn’t relish in the joy of finally developing his unique powers under these circumstances. Instead, he sank to his knees, draped himself across his mother’s body and wept.

  Pulling out of the nightmare, Kyran gathered himself together and felt for Mackendra’s pulse, sagging with relief when a beat came seconds later. He leaned his face down to hers and listened for her breathing. It was weak and erratic. He cast his gaze about, looking for the reason for her condition. It didn’t take long for him to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Her arms were covered in huge red welts and the ground was littered by the bodies of numerous dead spiders. He had never seen insects as large as these. Their bodies had to be six inches in diameter with visible fangs that had effectively delivered their venom to her body.

  She was lying on the ground without her top on and the lush breasts that were spilling out of her bra were covered in bites as well. His eyes were drawn to the tattoos covering her arms and the scars they covered. The great white shark that he knew was tattooed over the largest of her scars was covered in so many bites that it was unrecognizable. He had never seen her ink up close and couldn’t help but admire the vine that wound up the right side of her neck. He thought it apropos that it had more thorns than roses.

  He wasn’t a healer like Jace and had no idea what to give her to counteract the spider venom. And, even if he knew what herbs may help treat spider venom, he wasn’t familiar with this realm or its plants. He cradled her head in his hands and placed it in his lap.

  He recalled the incident when Elsie, his brother’s Fated Mate, was kidnapped by a traitorous vampire and nearly killed. It had been donations of vampire blood from several of the Dark Warriors that had saved her. Of course, that had the added side effect of turning her into a vampire, but the Goddess had told them that would never be repeated. Not concerned with turning her unwittingly into a vampire, he didn’t know if giving Mackendra his blood would save her, but he had to try. He bit into his wrist and tried to shake her awake.

  “Mackendra, can you hear me? It’s Kyran, lass. I need to give you my blood or you’re going to die.” There was no response so he gently pried her mouth open and held his wrist over it, allowing several drops to fall onto her tongue. He watched her closely to see if she had a reaction.

  After several seconds, there was still no response or change in her coloring. He had no idea how much to give her so decided to try again. He lifted his arm and noticed that the wounds he’d inflicted had already healed so he bit into it again. Her mouth hung slack at that point and he held his bleeding wrist over her lips and stroked her throat, hoping to encourage her to swallow.

  Only when his wounds healed did he lift his wrist from her mouth. Her lips were stained red and seemed to beckon him. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers, tasting his blood and the citrus-vanilla that was all Mackendra. He reared back so fast he almost dumped her on the ground.

  What in the hell was he doing? He didn’t kiss women. Tie them up and have sex with them, yes, but never this. He had never kissed a female in his life and yet he’d done so with this human without conscious thought. The worst part was that he found himself wanting to do it again. He shook his head roughly, dislodging the disturbing urge.

  He ran a finger down her throat, settling to feel her faint pulse. She had such a flare for life each time he had seen her and it didn’t seem fair she would die at the hands of insects a fraction of her size. Especially, considering she took on creatures much larger than herself with alacrity.

  Several things happened at once. Mackendra’s heartbeat picked up, she gasped out loud and searing pain exploded on the left side of his chest. Certain it was one of those damnable spiders he ripped his shirt over his shoulders and scanned his flesh.

  Shock hit him like a ton of bricks and had him staring in disbelief. A brand appeared over the left side of his ribcage. It was an image he was all-too-familiar with…his family’s mating mark. The Tarakesh family had ruled vampires as long as the Tehrex Realm had existed, and, as the ruling family, each member carried the same Celtic cross when they mated. Kyran cursed Fate and the Goddess as he tilted Mackendra’s head to the side and looked down at the spot below her left ear. The same cross looked back at him in the form of a mystical mark. The ir
idescent cross was a glowing beacon to all supernaturals and made his chest constrict. How in the nine circles of hell had this happened?

  Mackendra couldn’t be his Fated Mate. It wasn’t possible. Not because he wasn’t attracted to her and certainly not because he didn’t want her, but because he hadn’t had sex with her yet. Mating marks only appeared after sex, not before. And he hadn’t touched the delectable female. Hell, there hadn’t even been a full blood exchange between them. So, why the mark appeared now was a complete fucking mystery to him.

  Although, he had to acknowledge a measure of relief because from the night he’d met her, he hadn’t been able to experience any climax or become hard without first conjuring an image of her in his mind. His obsession with her made sense now. He had been terrified that he may never experience the pleasure of sex again. Unfortunately, for him, that meant she was the only female he could ever have sex with again and she had tried to kill him. He smiled as he imagined the fight he would have to get her tied to his cross and at his mercy. Excitement surged over the thought of breaking her.

  This female was made for him whether she liked it or not. He wouldn’t waste time fighting fate and looked forward to teaching Mackendra about real pleasure. She would fight him, he had no doubt, and he welcomed the challenge.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Consciousness came back to Mackendra in a rush. She laid there with her eyes closed, confused and relieved at the same time. The last thing she remembered was being bitten by big-ass, nasty-looking spiders. They had covered every inch of her, their fangs slicing into her skin in a frenzy. They’d left countless swelling sores on her arms and torso and when it felt as if acid flowed through her veins, she had immediately realized they were poisonous. She was shocked to be alive. She hadn’t expected to recover when it felt as if her organs were melting inside her body. She had no idea one could actually feel pain in their liver and diaphragm. Now, she couldn’t help but ask why she wasn’t dead.

  Something brushed against her arm and her eyes flew open. She sat up so fast that her head spun. She lifted her arms and turned them over. Not only were there no spiders, there were no festering wounds left behind. She ran her hands over her bare stomach and breasts, but there were no marks anywhere, except for her scars, of course. None of this should be possible and the hairs on her neck stood on end in alarm. She felt surprisingly energized for being on deaths door not long ago. What was going on?

  Nothing had made sense from the moment she awoke to flames in her bedroom. Her house was likely gone, she was in a strange place surrounded by God only knew what types of creatures and she’d just survived lethal spiders. Not to mention that there could be a crazed vampire hunting her at that very moment. Her spine tingled with awareness.

  “Aboot time you woke up,” the deep Scottish brogue came from behind her. She jumped and quickly got to her feet, spinning to face him. A muscle ticked in his jaw as they glared at one another. A warm breeze gusted across her bare skin and she realized that she was having a stare down with a vampire without a shirt on. A vampire that she had stabbed in the heart. Discomfited, she snatched her shirt off the ground and pulled it over her head, not bothering to brush off the dirt and spider guts. She didn’t like the way this vampire was looking at her, like he was ready to eat her alive. Worst part of the whole crazy day was that she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  His grey eyes were glowing brightly, reminding her of a banked storm. She couldn’t help but wonder what he planned to do with her. Kill her for stabbing him or have his wicked way with her. The look he gave her told her either one was possible.

  “You’re strong enough to travel, come on, lass. We need to leave, now.” His sharp command left no room for compromise.

  “What?” she asked, confused by his demeanor. “Where are we going?”

  “Right now, I’m heading for the nearest shelter I can find. I need to get out of the sun,” he replied, tossing her backpack at her feet.

  “If you’re not taking me home, I’m not going anywhere with you, bloodsucker,” she snapped, emboldened and unable to control her mouth. The way she saw it, if he was going to kill her then he’d have done it by now. She had been unconscious, bleeding and completely at his mercy, and yet, he hadn’t harmed her. The mere idea went against everything she knew about vampires. He should have been devouring her blood and leaving her for dead.

  “Suit yourself. I’m certain there are far worse creatures oot here than spiders.” His blithe tone was nearly believable as he carelessly flipped her knife in his hand before he walked off. But, she had seen the irritation in his expression before he shuttered it.

  Watching his back, she became irate as her eyes locked on her blade. She had made that knife and she wanted it back. After much trial and error with various weapons and numerous injuries, she had realized that only titanium blades killed vampires. Or skirm, she amended, for now she couldn’t doubt that vampires and skirm were indeed different creatures. He hadn’t turned to ash and his blood was red, rather than black, and then there was the way his eyes had glowed. Nothing at all like the eyes of her usual prey, which had an eerie, red ring around them.

  When she took up hunting vampires years ago, she quickly realized she needed to find a way to make her own weapons. It had been expensive to repeatedly lose knives and guns to the skirm in those early days. Luckily, she had learned a lot from the mechanics so it wasn’t hard for her to teach herself how to fabricate weapons using the fire pit in her backyard as a make-shift forge. It had been by accident that she discovered how titanium killed skirm. She had used a good portion of her savings to buy the titanium for the weapon that was now in the hands of a vampire. It was her best work and her pride and joy.

  “Hey, give that back to me right now,” she demanded as she picked up her backpack and followed him. She was surprised at how fast and silently he moved, while comparatively, she felt like she was trampling along as loud as a herd of buffalo.

  “Why? So you can stab me again? Nay, I think I will keep it.”

  She ran and finally caught up to him, having to work twice as hard to keep pace beside him. He didn’t bother slowing down and was certainly no gentleman as he barreled on. Not that she wanted a man to treat her like a China doll, but it wouldn’t kill him to slow down. “That blade belongs to me. I made it and I want it back,” she tried again.

  He lifted the weapon and turned it over, inspecting it. She found herself holding her breath, waiting to hear what he thought. Absurdly, she hoped he liked it. Why his opinion mattered, she had no idea, but it did. “No’ bad for a human. I will give this to you, but I will take it back if you canna behave. I trust that you’ve learned by now that I am no’ easily killed. Lesson one, Mackendra. Supernaturals can only be killed by beheading.”

  The smirk on his face as he handed her knife to her made her long to sink the blade right between his eyes. Arrogant ass. “I’ll take that as a compliment of my superb talent.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better, lass.” He openly chuckled this time, and without thought, she punched him in the arm like she would one of her friends. He looked down where her fist had connected and back at her with a mysterious grin. “As tempted as I am to continue this exchange, we need to find shelter,” he pronounced.

  She ignored his snarky remarks, wondering about his clearly urgent need to get out of the sun. “I have always wondered how many of the myths about vampires are true. So the sun really will burn you to ashes?”

  “Aye, it does,” he replied matter-of-factly. The guy wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but that didn’t deter her. She had been researching vampires for years, but had never found a reliable source of information. Here she had a vampire in front of her who seemed willing to share information and she was going to take advantage and learn all she could. After all, knowledge was power.

  “Okay. What else is true? Do crosses hurt you? What about garlic?” she asked as she grabbed two sticks and held them out towards hi
m in a cross.

  He barked out a laugh. “Nay,” he shook his head, but had a slight upturn to one corner of his mouth. The sight and sound of his amusement was disconcerting. She didn’t think vampires were capable of emotions other than rage. And, he was gorgeous when he smiled. If she were honest, everything about him was gorgeous…from his stark, masculine features to his unbelievably muscled body.

  She looked up at him and realized he was tall, a good six inches taller than her five-nine frame. Her breathing heightened when she noticed the way his legs filled out his black leather pants. His shoulders made the fabric of his t-shirt stretch tight, making her heart pound with awareness. She wondered if this was the result of working out or if it was his vampiric nature. Despite his incredible body, his best feature was his stormy grey eyes which happened to be locked on her at the moment, and very annoyed, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Typical human,” he muttered, ending her ogling.

  “Fuck you, leech.” He might look good, but she still wanted to kill him.

  He ran his eyes from her head to her toes, pausing on her breasts and other pertinent areas, making her uneasy. He was checking her out and she didn’t know how to react. She shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, he was of the male species. Still, she didn’t think vampires had sex drives with being the un-dead and all, but there was no mistaking that he was looking at her with clear intent. “Be careful what you wish for, lass.”

  “I’m not…that’s not…” she flustered, feeling her cheeks heat. “You know what I meant,” she retorted lamely. It occurred to her that it now seemed relatively easy to keep up with his pace, unlike before. In fact, she felt damn good and wondered again how she had survived the spider attack.