The Arbiter

by K. B. Ladnier

  "Do not for one second think that it’s ok for you to even speak to me girl," he snarls. "It may have been a Damned that was killed, but for all we know, the Rites had a hand in it. That was their blade in that video, and he said it himself that you'd have to kill them to come by it. So, either they have people dying too and are withholding information, or they are the scum supplying them with the weapons."

  Larkan’s power pushes against my back as he moves closer, but it's Enoch who speaks, "Do not speak to the Arbiter that way, Lupin. You are a guest here and will do well to remember that."

  When Larkan speaks, I feel his breath hot against my neck and it makes me shiver. Thankfully, no one show signs of having noticed, except for Monroe. His smile lights up his face so bright that I can see it out of the corner of my eye. There's something wrong with him seriously. "We know nothing of your accusations, Infernal," he says to Saul.

  "Not like you'd tell us if you did," he snaps back, "Never can trust men who hide their faces."

  Larkan steps up against my back as if I'm the only thing standing between him and stabbing the Lupin straight in the heart, "I have no problem showing my face to you demon, if only you were worthy. I didn't come here for a fight. I came to see about a problem that seems to be plaguing us all."

  When Saul opens his mouth to spew more nonsense, everyone starts trying to talk over each other again. This is fucking ridiculous. How the fuck do they ever get anything done or decided?

  I slam my palm down flat against the table as I feel a rush of power come out of me, "ENOUGH!"

  All of them rock back in their chairs, almost as if I had punched them all at the same time. Huh? Who knew I had that much power? At least it shut them all up and handed the floor over to me.

  Turning to face Larkan, who is a lot closer than what he was the last I checked, he slowly lowers his hood to his shoulders. I have every intention of giving the floor to him in hopes that he would actually have something to share with us, but I come up short. Whatever my power did to the rest of the room, affected him as well. His power pushes back against me, and I’m stunned silent as I get my first look at him without his hood.

  His dark-blonde hair is shaved barely an inch to his scalp. A square jawline hints of stubble while his nose is wide and Romanesque. Those full lips are set back into a thin line again, giving off neither a smile or smirk. It's the eyes that are truly breathtaking. Crystal blue in color with a dark ring of black around them, they are now locked straight onto mine, as if daring me to be the first to back down.

  Ok, for Creator's sake. What is up with all of these men and their intense stares? Is there some kind of pissing contest that I wasn't aware of? I'm going to end up a permanent hot mess if they don't stop. It wasn't enough that I’m being stalked by an ex-lover from one hundred years ago and slept with a Strige Infernal on the first night of meeting him; now, I've got this insane attraction to a Rite as well. Technically, he came first, if Enoch isn't taken into calculation. And, now I’m talking to myself. Fabulous.

  Pushing all of that to the back of my head, I motion for Raphael’s phone. He hands it over, and I push play. I don’t want to watch the whole thing again, but I need to know. When the masked man walks in front of the camera, there’s a clear view of the blade that he’s using. I quickly push pause and turn the phone around to Larkan, “Is that or is that not a blessed blade?”

  “No,” he says without hesitation.

  I had already been prepared for him to say yes, so when the answer is no, my head cocks to the side while my mouth pops open. To say I’m surprised is an understatement.

  “If you look on the blade just there, you’ll see that the Divine marking doesn’t go all the way down. It was the same with the humans who attacked you the other day,” he says. “Once they exceeded their purpose, we erased their memory and sent them on their way.”

  The confusion must show on my face. Before I can voice my question, his hand whips out to capture mine. I drop the phone to the floor as his power lays itself like a blanket on top of me. It’s like a caress of a forbidden romance, and I bite my cheek to keep from moaning like an idiot. There’s fire and ice at my back, letting me know that Enoch and Monroe are now flanking me. But they aren’t needed. Larkan won’t hurt me.

  Even as he draws his blade with his other hand, I don’t flinch. Laying the handle parallel with my palm, the thumb holding my hand slowly travels up my new Arbiter marking. The strangest feeling passes over me, and it feels as though he claims me in that one touch. Anyone who isn’t standing close enough would never be able to see it. As the fire behind me becomes an inferno, I know that Enoch has. I’ll have to face that fire later and quite literally.

  “As you can see,” Larkan says to me, “The marking on the blades that are being used do not extend all the way down. They are not true blessed blades.”

  Quicker than a flash, he snaps it back to his side and drops my hand. Then he directs his words to the rest of the room, “As I said, we guard our blades with our lives. These are imposters, but none the less dangerous. I’ll be reporting back to my superiors, and I expect you to keep us updated with any news or information you may have on the subject at hand.”

  I can’t be sure, but it feels as though his eyes land on Saul longer than any of the others. As fast as he waltzed in here, Larkan’s hood is back up, and his robe billowing out behind him as he leaves.

  “I still say they are responsible,” Saul snarls quietly.

  My fingertips massage my temples. The force of Larkan’s power has left me not only feeling drained, but with a headache and quite bitchy.

  “It’s best that this meeting be adjourned until we have more information,” I say with a frustrated sigh.

  Without turning around or waiting for anyone’s reply, I head towards the stairs leading up to my loft. Neither Enoch or Monroe follow, which I’m grateful for. I need some time to clear my head. I let the door click shut behind me. Taking a deep breath of cold air, I start up the stairs. One would think that after everything that has happened in the past few days that I’d be on guard and watching around me, but no. I won’t cower in fear. Especially in my own home.

  A shadow steps out from the landing as I’m two steps away from it and I scream like a little girl who just saw a spider. So much for not cowering in fear.

  A hand covers my mouth and cuts off the sound. I’m not sure if it’s the flesh not allowing any sound to come out, or if it’s Larkan’s power forming that blanket over me again.

  His hood is still hiding his face, and I find myself wanting to run my hand underneath to see if he would let me. Before I get a chance, he spins us and presses me against the wall.

  “Shh,” he says as I hear two voices underneath us. His body is rock hard against me, and his warm breath fans against my face. Remember that spill about self-preservation? Yeah, I still have none.

  As my head turns slightly to the side, his lips are there waiting. When they connect with mine, it feels as though a bomb goes off inside of me. Our powers clash and fight for dominance. When he pulls away, those ice blue eyes stare down at me.

  “Watch yourself, Nocturna,” he whispers, “Something isn’t right, and those most important to you are hiding dark secrets.”

  My mouth opens to ask him what he knows, but the door on the second landing swings open, and I hear Enoch and Monroe’s voices echoing up to us. Larkan presses his lips against mine before jumping the side rail on the opposite side. I don’t need to look to confirm that he landed on his feet and is probably half a mile away from here already.

  “Mon Chere? What are you doing out here?” Monroe asks as they spy me still pressed against the wall.

  Enoch’s nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl, “The Rite never left did he?”

  I shake my head and turn around to unlock my door, “No, but you can cool your tits because he’s gone now.”

  “Fucking shit, Nocturna. It’s one thing to sleep with the Infernal Lieges but fucking around with a
Rite takes you to a whole new level of insane,” he chastises.

  I listen to his bitching all the way into the loft, but I’m only half-hearing him. Larkan’s words are sitting in the pit of my stomach, and it’s churning over and over them.

  He keeps going on about the mistakes of being involved with a Rite even after we are inside and the two of them are perched side by side on the couch. There’s an energy rolling underneath my skin, and it’s making me antsy. Enoch keeps up his monologue as I pace back and forth across the floor in front of them, trying to distract myself. Monroe is the only one who looks at me worriedly, but thankfully he never says anything. He lets me vent all my energy and frustrating thoughts out to the carpet.

  “Are you fucking listening?” Enoch says coming to stand in front of me. He grabs me by the top of my arms to hold me still, and my body rebels away from the contact.

  “What do you want from me, Enoch?” I demand. “You left. All I was worth to you was that shitty little note that you left behind. You do not get to walk back in here and have any kind of say in my life. Especially considering, you’re only here because of my new status.”

  My words surprise him, which is odd, but he steps into my space before I can say anything, “I’m not back just for your status, love. I’m here for you.”

  The next thing that I know, he is crushing his lips against mine. I fall into the routine, because it is impossible to not kiss him. It only takes two seconds for my sense to return. Letting out a little of that energy, I push against him gently.

  It knocks him flat on his ass, and I have to fight a laugh at the incredulous look on his face. Oops, I thought it was gently.

  His second form tries to surface, but I watch as he forces it back down. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Monroe now sitting with his arms thrown across the back of the couch. His pose says that he’s getting a full dose of amusement from this. I’m sure he’d step in if need be, but for now his smirk says all.

  Enoch brings himself to his feet. Keeping his distance this time, he says, “I deserve that. Do not mistake me for being weak, though, love. I’m not going to lose you again, and I will not stop until you accept that you belong to me.”

  This conversation feels like it’s been waiting for a hundred years. I sigh, “I belong to no one, Enoch. Least of all you. Now, please leave.”

  For the first time since I’ve known him, his face loses that arrogant hardness. He quickly masks it again, “I’ll be around for whenever you change your mind.” With that, he leaves me staring after him in disbelief. Dear Damnation, that Baellock just could not take a damn hint.

  As he slams the door behind him, the energy from before hits me again full force. The little that I pushed at him only tamed it for a short while. Picking back up where I left off, my boot clad feet wear into the carpet again.

  “Is there anything you want to talk about, mon cher?” Monroe asks softly.

  I shake my head, but answer him anyways, “Something just doesn’t feel right. My body feels like there’s creepy crawlies underneath my skin.”

  He gets up to come stand in front of me, halting my pacing again, “It’s the power.”

  “Why didn’t I feel like this before then?” I ask holding my palms up beside me.

  “I could be wrong,” he starts, “but I think it may have something to do with that Rite. Larkan, correct?” After a nod from me, he asks, “I saw your reaction to him downstairs, and it became worse with him touching you. I’m guessing that he touched you up here as well. Did you feel anything different around him? With his power?”

  Larkan’s words flash through my head again, and I second guess whether I should be trusting Monroe or not. What the fuck? Since when do I trust a Rite over a Damned?

  “There was something that felt like a blanket covering my power. If that makes sense. Not suffocating or trying to hurt me,” I tell him honestly. “But now, I feel like I’m going to burst into flames or set the fucking loft on fire.”

  I’m about to tell him about Larkan healing me the other day when Monroe closes what little bit of distance there is left between us and grabs the sides of my face, “Were I any other Infernal, you’d be in trouble. As it stands, I do not believe in trying to sway you to choosing one side or the other. That leaves us with only one good outlet for this energy that you can feel trying to escape.”

  With my face still between his palms, I have no choice but to look up to his face when I mumble, “And what’s that?’”

  He leans down and presses his lips against mine. I’m not exactly sure if he knows what would happen next, but I can’t truly be held accountable for my actions. I blame it on the power, jumping on the opportunity that just presented itself.

  Grabbing handfuls of his black t-shirt, I jerk him to me. Our tongues do a dance for dominance, but he finally caves with a groan that makes me wish there were less clothes between us. His hands skim over my skin, until he gets to my ass. From there, he lifts right under my cheeks, and I wrap my legs around him.

  I know that in the direction we are headed its straight toward my room, but I wouldn't care if he walked us down the two flights of stairs to the dance floor below us. It wouldn't stop what’s happening.

  We barely make it through the doorway before I've dropped my feet and am ripping the shirt from his body. I don't remember much about last night, so I fully intend to make up for that. He stands like an ancient statue letting me undress him until he's standing fully naked in front of me. My mouth waters at all the pale skin on display.

  I feel my second form taking over, and she's hungry. He reaches for me, and I slap his hand away. Undressing in two seconds, I turn us until we're directly where we need to be for me to shove him back on the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge, and he goes down like a rock. As I climb up his body, his hands reach for me. I smack them away again, and he moves them to rest above his head.

  Holy damnation.

  That one little move flexes the muscles from his abs to his biceps. Laid out beneath me, this Strige Liege of the Infernal is at my whim and mercy. I take him into my body, and that energy rolls underneath my skin again. I growl at the sensation of the two feelings at the same time. With my second form taking over, I rock myself against his body and take a breathtaking pull from him. It does nothing to quell the energy. If anything, it makes it worse.

  He looks to my face as he lifts his hands in question. When I don't make any motion to stop them, they find my inner thighs. As I rock against him again, those slim fingers find the sweet spot between my legs, and there's no helping the moan that escapes my lips. There's a satisfied smirk on his face, and it's then that I feel his power touching mine.

  It only takes another few minutes of his fingers working their magic before my body tenses up on his. I look down at him, fearful of when this energy escapes.

  "Let go, Mon Chere. I've got you," he says, and those simple words are my undoing.

  My blood boils, and I can feel my second form flash in and out again. I let go and the fibers within me shred from the release of power. I feel like I should be millions of tiny particles floating around the room, but I’m not. I’m still whole and cradled against Monroe’s chest as he moves us to the bed.

  As we lay there, I decide since this is the second time I’ve taken him to my bed, I should probably at least know a little more about him.

  “Tell me some stuff about you. Anything. Maybe your home?” I suggest. Anything to distract me from all the weird and stressful shit that has gone down since becoming the Arbiter. I’d been curious anyway about what his home was like since the moment I heard that Cajun accent. I found that I enjoyed Monroe’s company more than I probably should. Not only was he sexy as sin on the outside, but also intelligent and kind. My curiosity to know more about him was finally getting the better of me.

  He tells me of his life on the bayou. Apparently, he lives in a very large plantation home in Lafayette, Louisiana and a lot of his loyal people live spread out along the propert
y.

  The way that he had describes it is beautiful. Warm, Spring evenings when the cicadas sang. The air so thick and warm, it wraps around you like a thick flannel blanket. The smell of honeysuckle clogs the air with its sweet scent. And the nights…those sound like the best. Warm nights filled with the illumination of flashing lightening bugs, like hundreds of tiny stars floating so close you can reach out and touch them.

  I fall asleep to the sound of his voice in my ear.

  Larkan

  The loud music pulses through the walls of the club, and I can feel it like a drum inside my body. With my hypersensitive senses, I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. I normally let the young ones handle something like this. When the call came through a while ago, there were whispers of The Arbiter. No one dared argue with me when I claimed this case for myself. Being the last direct descendant of Abel has its perks.

  I didn’t need a name or an address. I knew days ago who the next Arbiter would be. As soon as I allowed myself to heal that half breed, I could feel her power already trying to cling to mine like a second skin. I’m still not exactly even sure why I did that. Were it any other than me, there would have been serious consequences. As it were, I got a slap on the wrist.

  There’s always side effects of healing people. The only times I’ve ever done it, they’ve been humans, and they are easy enough to erase memories from. Plus, they simply don’t harbor the kind of energy that we do. They don’t latch themselves onto you to the point where you can’t even get to sleep at night for worrying about their safety. Not like the lovely Nocturna.

  I’ve not been able to erase her from my head since the cleanup. Even with all the kidnapping we’ve answered calls for lately, she’s still front and center. I felt the shift of power when she became the new Arbiter, and it’s been unconsciously calling to me, like a moth to a flame.

  Glares are thrown at me as I make my way up the staircase to the second floor, where it was relayed for us to meet. A burly Strige falls in step with me as I crest the stairs. I expect nothing less as an armed Rite walking into a den of Infernal.