Deviant Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Three)

by Brenda Trim

  “What are you doing with that?” Kyran asked as she opened the door to the closet.

  “Feeding them,” she said turning to the women. She removed the tape from their mouths, prepared for them to yell at her. When they didn’t, she immediately began apologizing. “I’m sorry about this. Are you guys hungry?”

  “You can let us go. We promise not to say anything. Seriously, it’d be nice to have a day off.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” they both grumbled. She opened the sacks and fed them their food while Kyran stood watch. When they were done, he leaned into the room and placed more tape over their mouths.

  “Come here, Mackendra.” There was no mistaking the order in his tone. She bristled and he continued before she could respond, “We need to rest.”

  She sat on the floor next to his leg, not trusting herself to be closer. “I doubt I will be able to get any sleep on this hard floor. You rest, I’ll keep watch.”

  “You will rest, Mackendra,” he informed her and lifted her easily, situating her between his powerful legs. She sat up and started to crawl away when he pulled her against his chest. As muscled as he was, it was surprisingly comfortable and she was helpless but to sink into him.

  “Maybe for a minute,” she acquiesced and Pip crawled into her lap. The little guy circled once before he fell asleep.

  After several minutes of silence, she peered over her shoulder and saw that Kyran had his eyes closed. She sensed when he fell into a light doze as his breathing evened out and his hands relaxed on her stomach. She closed her eyes and gave into the fatigue.

  She heard a noise and tried to wake up, but was trapped in that weird in-between state, not asleep, yet, not awake, either. She felt Kyran tense behind her and tried to open her eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut.

  She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was dreaming. She was in a medieval stone castle and could smell the wax of the candles that provided the only illumination in the room. The walls were covered in old-fashioned tapestries and there was a small window set into one of the walls. She couldn’t see anything through the window except blackness and figured it was nighttime.

  Along one of the walls was a bed covered by a burgundy blanket that looked soft and inviting while the mattress underneath didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen. Matching burgundy drapes were attached to the four posts and were tied back with black cords.

  Loud voices drew her attention and had her head snapping to the door. Her heart began to beat frantically and she scrambled for a hiding place. She ducked underneath a nearby desk. The sound of heavy boots echoed through the hall outside.

  Thud,

  Thud,

  Thud.

  A female’s terrified scream made her cringe. She wasn’t just dreaming, she was having a nightmare. A wardrobe on the opposite side of the big bed caught her attention when she noticed movement. Before she could see what had moved, a menacing laugh drew her gaze to the door. The weathered wood flew open and an eerily-familiar creature entered, holding a beautiful woman by the hair. It was a demon and he was easily seven feet tall with grey skin and black horns on its head. She swore his evil, red eyes looked right at her. She curled into a tighter ball and inched closer to the wall.

  She expected it to attack her, but it made no move in her direction. Her blood thrummed with the need for battle as several skirm entered the room behind him. She looked around for a weapon and saw candlesticks and tools next to a fireplace, but when she went to move, she was frozen to her spot. She had a feeling this woman was in trouble and she couldn’t help her. She wanted out of this nightmare, but no matter how hard she tried to force her eyes open and end it, nothing happened.

  A wet, tearing sound, thick and obscene, had Mack crying out, and yet, they didn’t glance in her direction. Horror washed over her. Her chest constricted with disbelief, sadness and rage, but they weren’t her emotions. Something was very wrong with this dream and it had nothing to do with how the creatures were torturing the poor woman. Blood was dripping from a wound at the woman’s temple and had matted her dark brown hair. Mack looked at the wardrobe when she heard a whimper and saw a grey eye peering through a knot hole in the wood. The grey eye connected with hers and it sent a shiver through her body.

  The woman renewed her struggles, grabbing Mack’s attention when the devil barked, “Hold her.” The skirm automatically obeyed and the woman began screaming obscenities at them. Mack couldn’t sit there while this happened right in front of her. She tried to crawl out from under the desk and was relieved when she was able to move. Standing, she decided the fireplace poker would make the best weapon and dashed for it, fully expecting to be stopped, but no one moved. It was as if she was invisible.

  She turned in time to see the demon’s lips pull back, revealing huge fangs that sunk into the helpless woman’s throat. Without thought, Mack ran across the room and lifted the iron poker in her hand. As she neared the closest skirm she swung, using all of her strength. The make-shift weapon sliced through the skirm, but didn’t do anything. She hacked and slashed, screaming as she did, but nothing.

  The woman’s whispered gurgling plea brought her eyes down. “Please, don’t hurt me.” Mack glanced down to see the woman’s throat was torn out, yet the outer edges appeared to be trying to mend together. She had never seen anything like that before in her life. In a macabre display, the demon smiled and ran his hand down the dying woman’s cheek. “Shh, bitch. This will only hurt, a lot.” His laughter was filled with evil intent as he shredded the green, velvet gown from her body.

  “Nooo!” Mack shouted, fully aware of the demon’s plan. She tried to reach for the horns and pull his ugly head back, but her hand slipped through air. She helplessly watched as the demon grabbed the woman’s breasts. He sank his claws in deep and ripped one from her body.

  Mack leaned over and vomited as the demon sucked the nipple of the other breast and spread her thighs. The woman’s cries broke Mack’s heart. She sat there, pleading for God to stop what was happening, wishing she could get out of the nightmare. No one deserved to suffer like this.

  Mack looked away as the demon surged his large, grotesque penis into the woman’s body. Mack placed her palms over her ears, but couldn’t drown out the sounds of the demon ruthlessly raping the woman. At some point, the woman had stopped crying and Mack looked over just as the demon ripped the woman to shreds. Her limbs were torn from her body. As unbelievable as it was, Mack was relieved when the demon removed the woman’s head from her body. It wasn’t until that moment that the woman’s suffering was over.

  An inhumane cry of rage sounded just before a much younger Kyran exploded from the wardrobe. He had the same grey eyes and dark brown hair that she’d recognize anywhere, even with his hair pulled into a queue at the base of his neck. He was much leaner, but despite his weak stature, he hefted a large, broadsword over his head and sifted directly behind the demon. As Mack watched, stunned beyond belief, he swung the heavy blade and separated sinew and bone from flesh, decapitating the creature. Black blood spurted from the neck and sprayed the room as the body hit the floor.

  How the hell had Kyran done that? Apparently, she was the only invisible one in this dream, and not able to engage, where he could. She screamed out his name and he looked in her direction. Their eyes met briefly and she saw the torment that lurked in Kyran’s depths. Something feral replaced his despair and he gave a loud war-cry again, right before he became a madman.

  He swung his sword over and over again until the skirm lay in pieces all over the room. Black blood splattered the walls and bedding and mixed with the red blood of the woman. Mack guessed his blade wasn’t titanium when the skirm didn’t turn to ash as he killed them.

  Kyran opened the door and his anguish was renewed when he fell to his knees. Mack crossed to his side and saw that he had his head down with his hand on the chest of a man who looked very similar to the Kyran she knew. These two people had
to be Kyran’s parents.

  The man had been decapitated and Mack remembered that Kyran had told her the best way to kill a supernatural was to cut off his head. Looking down, Mack saw that the man’s eyes were trained on the room and she realized he had been forced to watch the rape and murder of the woman.

  She called out when she saw a skirm was bringing up a bloody sword, ready to cleave Kyran’s head from his shoulders. Kyran raised his sword and shot to his feet. This skirm met the same fate as the others in the room. The tan breeches and white shirt Kyran had on were covered with blood. He stood, chest heaving, when screaming sounded from another location in the castle.

  “Bhric, Breslin,” he breathed and took off running. She followed behind him, needing to understand what was happening. She suspected she was in one of his memories, instead of a nightmare, but didn’t understand how that could be possible.

  Kyran was looking in all of the rooms, searching for something. Mack was shocked by how many skirm there seemed to be in the castle as he fought his way through the home. Several times, other people joined him to fight, but didn’t fare as well. The grey stone walls were stained by red and black gore and the smell of blood and death permeated Mack’s senses as she followed along.

  Eventually, the sounds of fighting within the castle diminished, but Mack didn’t dare believe this was over. She bristled with the need to help Kyran fight and hadn’t felt so helpless since the night she had been attacked.

  She thought back on that night when she had been returning home after work. Two young men had approached her and she knew right away that there was something off about them. One of them had come up behind her, caging her arms while the other had come at her from the front. The first guy pulled her behind some hydrangea bushes and threatened to snap her neck if she screamed.

  She had pleaded with them and dropped her purse from her hand, telling them to take it. The second guy simply laughed and kicked her bag away. Her heart had raced in her chest as they told her their plans for her. She fought against the hold on her arms, but only managed to tire herself out. Fear clouded her ability to think straight and before she knew it, she felt razors slice into her neck. The first guy laughed as she screamed and she saw a predatory light enter his eyes. It was at that point that she saw the fangs and eerie eyes.

  Thoughts of vampires raced through her mind as the sickening sound of slurping echoed in her ear while she felt pressure on her neck. Even as she told herself that she was imagining things, she realized she wasn’t dealing with regular people. The second guy grabbed her arm and bit into her several times. The fangs at her neck lifted, but returned to bite her again. The burning from the bites felt as if her flesh was on fire and she weakened almost immediately. Her neighbor must have heard her screams because his porch light flicked on and that was what had saved her. The second he stepped outside his door, her attackers snapped their heads up, ripping her flesh in the process. She screamed for help and they ran off into the night.

  Mack was brought back to the nightmare when a young woman approached Kyran with her hands out in a placating manner. “Kyran, ‘tis me, Beatrice. What’s happening?” Beatrice was obviously terrified. She was white as a ghost and stopped several feet away from him.

  “I…I doona know,” he muttered, looking lost. Kyran dropped his head, and at that moment, a skirm appeared from nowhere, striking Beatrice from behind. The skirm thrashed its head from side to side, tearing into the young woman’s neck. Red blood spurted from the injuries as she screamed out for Kyran. The sickening sight of flesh dripping with red blood nearly made Mack sick again.

  Kyran lifted his head and Mack saw the viscous killing machine that had already torn through countless victims as his sword swung through the air. The silver blade was covered by so much skirm blood it looked as if oil coated it. Kyran didn’t look back as the body hit the floor, but continued his search of the castle. He stopped in what appeared to be an office and listened to something before he returned to the bedroom where it all began.

  Like a man possessed, Kyran gathered all the pieces of the woman and placed them around her torso. Each time her head rolled away, he returned it to where it belonged. It was then that the tears began rolling down his young cheeks and he stood next to the woman, chest heaving with his incontrollable sobs. He had killed every last creature in the castle and the carnage was worse than any battle field.

  Mack saw the moment that the haze of his rage lifted and Kyran allowed the devastation to wash over him. Covered in gore from head to toe, he sank to his knees and draped himself across the woman’s body and cried. Mack knew that this incident was at the heart of who Kyran had become, and in that moment, she fell in love with him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kyran jumped to attention when Mackendra called out in her sleep. He had been caught in his recurring nightmare. He wrapped his arms around Mackendra and held his mate while the memory of that night washed over him. He hated how he felt the fear and rage as if he were back in that castle all those centuries ago. His gut churned with nausea as his chest ached with the loss. For the first time, since that fateful night, tears pricked his eyes.

  Mackendra jerked and fought his hold, making him wonder what gave his mate nightmares. If he had to guess, he’d say when she had been attacked by skirm. He wished he could take the memory from her. He understood all too well the burden of being haunted. He ran his hand over her hair, trying to soothe her.

  His hold on Mackendra tightened as he recalled more of his dream than normal. He had never remembered what had happened after he sifted out of the closet, but as he lay with his Fated Mate, every ugly detail played through his mind. The shock of finding his father, killing every skirm he encountered, watching Beatrice be killed, and hearing his younger siblings cry in a wall-safe left him breathless. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek when he recalled trying to piece his mamai back together.

  It was a macabre scene and he was frantic to escape the grief and anguish that had resurfaced. Suddenly, he felt trapped and the walls of the building were closing in on him. He couldn’t be near his mate as the pain threatened to shatter his sanity. He looked about frantically, for what, he had no idea. He was about to get up and rush from the room when Mackendra’s sobs drew his attention. Whatever she was dreaming was affecting her as deeply as his memories were him.

  He struggled with wanting to bolt and be there for Mackendra. He had never placed the needs of a female above his own, yet it seemed like second nature to provide her what she needed. He wiped her tears away, holding her close to his heart. He then did something that he had never envisioned.

  “Shhh, Mackendra. ‘Tis going to be alright. You are safe with me,” he reassured her. He brushed her short hair off her forehead, realizing she was sweating. Whatever was going on with her was intense as shit. Concern replaced his own anguish. He didn’t like seeing her upset about anything. Wanting to see her smile and hear her sass him, he shook her, trying to wake her up. She didn’t respond so he kept her cradled close, not sure what else to do. He sat and held her, staring at every part of her, each detail burned into his mind.

  She was sexy as hell and had a body that would make any male crazy with lust, but there was so much more that attracted him to her. Kyran was coming to love her sarcastic attitude best. Her snarky t-shirts were a statement of her personality and he’d bet you could determine her mood for the day, based on what her shirt said. He made a note to buy her a shirt that said ‘I Love My Vampire’ just so he could see her reaction to it. He imagined she’d tell him ‘not on your life leech’ and may even punch him, but would nevertheless wear it proudly. She wasn’t concerned with propriety or what others thought. She wore, said, and did whatever she wanted. That was such a rare trait for any species and it was refreshing to know what you saw with her was what you got. He didn’t have to try and read between the lines.

  He grazed his finger down the side of her neck, hoping to comfort her and traced the outline of one of her bite
marks. He wished more than anything that he’d been there to protect her. Her ink may camouflage what happened, but the scars ran deep. They were her badge of survival. She had come out the victor and had taken her life back with both hands and a blade. Nothing would ever hold her down. He couldn’t say the same about himself.

  He felt like a coward in comparison with how his mamai’s death had plagued him for so long. She was an example he hoped to live up to. He hadn’t handled his life well at all. He hit bottom when he killed Charlotte and didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself. There was no excuse for what he had done and didn’t deserve forgiveness, yet he prayed to the Goddess anyway.

  Before Mackendra, he hadn’t been with a female since Charlotte and had wondered if he would go back to his deviant lifestyle despite his shame and remorse. Now, he understood his deviancy would always be a part of him, but how big a part was uncertain. He wanted to break Mackendra and have her submit completely to him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to see that fire leave her eyes. Yeah, he was fucked in the head.

  Her low moan drew his attention. She let out a sigh when Pip crawled up her torso and settled his body on her breasts. The little devil laid his head on one breast and made a purring sound as he looked Kyran in the eye.

  “She may like you, but those are my breasts and doona forget it,” he chided playfully. Pip cocked his head and Kyran swore he smiled at him.

  Mackendra’s legs curled into her body, nearly dislodging Pip. Her action drew his attention to her legs and he couldn’t help but admire the sight before him. Until now, he had only seen her in jeans and the leather pants fit her like a glove, making him want to peel them slowly from her body and feast on her again. She had tasted divine and he wanted to sample her over and over again. He had yet to feel the clasp of her tight sheath, but doubted he’d survive the experience. He may not be best suited for her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to claim her as his.