by Poppet
Sveta:
I feel like I just got away with murder when I pull up at the meeting point where Ryan waits for me.
It's glorious up here on the eastern slopes of Topčidersko Brdo.
“What is she?” he says, wasting no time with pleasantries.
Smug, I have a hunch I know what she is, but need him to confirm it.
Dismounting off my black and chrome baby, I inhale the summer wind blowing in from the Sava river. I swagger to where he waits leaning against a black pine tree. Most folks don't even know Ryan lives in this area. But I do. Dedinje is his home.
Withdrawing black satin from my right front pocket and with my left hand retrieving pink lace from the other front pocket, I offer both to him like prayer flags.
“Zaria,” I wave the pink lace at him. “Zena,” I say, wagging the black satin.
“How the hell did you get Zaria's underwear?” he says, pushing his sunglasses up and diffusing purple mist over both items of female lingerie.
“She left them in the den. I just decided to pocket them while no one was around.”
He snatches them from me, his eyes now so completely tyrian purple they look angelic.
He clasps pink lace over his nose, inhaling hard and deep, the veins popping up across his body uncharacteristically clad in a t-shirt, rippling his arms and making him look like he just pumped steroids and weights in huge quantity.
I so seldom see us in our raw form, it gives me pause to see his power rearing up and taking hold of his body.
Closing his eyes he bellows a howl of lust.
I feel for you buddy, I do.
He fists the lace, his grip so tense I'm worried he's going to start popping blood vessels, when he then covers his nose with black satin, repeating the process.
Violet is bleeding out of his eyes, his arms trembling; he hangs his head, clears his throat, and finally looks through me with the crystal clarity of the world's most powerful neuri alpha.
“You marked Zena.”
“How would you know?” I swallow down the worry bunching in my throat.
“I'm not an idiot, Sveta. You marked her because I can smell this scent inside your very soul. You bonded with light, and you know I banned Zauran from doing that, yet you did it regardless.”
The accusation hangs between us, thick and uncomfortable.
“Zauran marked Zaria. And my fucking god, this is what they smell like when unshielded,” he roars in a rumbling timbre.
I nod, taking a wary step back.
“They are both, at least partly, Slakax,” he confirms for me.
“That's what I thought,” I mumble, coughing to clear the nerves from my voice.
I just claimed a Slakax as my mate. Shit doesn't get any deeper than this. Jowendrhan's the least of my problems now.
Bunching the material in his hands he inhales again like an addict with a hookah pipe. “This world hasn't seen a Slakax for a very long time, Sveta. How the hell did these two end up with this DNA?”
“And Phoebe,” I add. He hasn't yet met her and keeps forgetting about the third woman.
His eyes glow, bursting out spits of indigo fire, “Phoebe!”
It's the roar of a monster just unleashed from the volcano it was held captive in. She's the one unclaimed by a neuri, the only one left for Ryan to find.
Oh shit!
My neck is gripped in a hand vice so painful I can barely move my own blood through my veins.
“Where is she?!” he booms, blasting the hair off my face.
“Ryan,” I wheeze, trying to break his grip. “We have to tell Zauran first.”
The grip intensifies so much that I'm blasted with the agony of my vertebrae separating.
Ngaaaaah!
Chapter 15
Zaria:
It's with dread that I look around my home, drinking in every detail, absorbing smells and lingering scents as if trying to locate a visitor by odor.
It's become a habit, borne of my training with Jowendrhan and Venix.
None of this would have happened if Venix was still here. Why the heck did he have to find redemption when this world needs him to help maintain the balance?
Damn it all!
Stomping to the bathroom of my small home, I need to brush my teeth. I'm grateful I didn't decide to move in with Darise or this morning would be Hell boot camp, level one.
It's still early and I have time to pop out and get myself coffee, and ask Seithe to bring Phoebe over. I don't trust phones now, I'm feeling completely paranoid.
Morning sunlight makes the bathroom milky light, and I'm struck by my image in the mirror. Wow! I look phenomenal.
Sneaking closer, I automatically check the place where Zauran bit me. It looks like a tiny mark made up of an aqua circle with a dark dot in the middle in the same color.
Jeez, Jo made it sound like I had a fat welt from a brand the size of his fist on the side of my neck.
This looks like it could be henna, decoration, nothing significant or obvious at all. Satisfied, I set to brushing my teeth. Urgency is riding me over Phoebe's safety. Darise and his philandering bullshit can wait.
I swivel as I look at my reflection, running a tender hand over my flat stomach, wondering if there really are two little babies waiting in there now. Lifting his shirt, I press it to my cheek, really missing that morning hug and kiss from Zauran, The Magnificent.
I should phone him too.
Spitting and rinsing, I storm out of the bathroom, straight to the phone. My cell phone is still at his house, with my car!
“Hey babes,” I say, when he answers on the first ring.
“Zaria! Thank god! Where are you? Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is Jo with you?–”
“Slow down,” I laugh at his obvious panic. “I'm at home. I'm about to head out to get myself some coffee. I'm fine. No one hurt me. But we're going to have to make a plan because you have my phone and my car.”
“I miss you! Fuck, I could gut the little shit for what he did.”
“Can I call you when I get home? You can come and rescue me so I don't have to see Darise at all today,” I say.
“Oh shit, yeah. Are you regretting last night then?”
“No! Not at all, not even a little bit. In fact I may have to keep this shirt of yours forever and ever to remind me of the night you turned my world inside out.”
“Which shirt are you wearing?” he laughs, low and sexy.
“It's charcoal with a skull on the front, with two glowing green eyes.”
“Oh I don't know, petal. I think I look a lot hotter in that shirt than you ever will.”
His laugh is scandalous as it floats into my ear and tingles my toes, licking moisture across my sex and sending a dark craving up inside me.
“I'm horny.” I slam my hand over my mouth, horrified I just said that! My cheeks immediately burn with shame. I can't get the image of him naked and all over me out of my head.
“Get your coffee and let me fetch you. I can alleviate that horniness in t-minus five minutes,” he purrs.
“I, uh, need to see someone first.”
“Who?” His tone is immediately tense and territorial.
“Phoebe.” For some reason admitting this makes my hands tremble.
“How long do you need? Where should I pick you up from?”
“I'll be going to Greenet and hopefully meeting up with her at Depo. I need people around me right now. I'm feeling weirdly jumpy.”
“Sveta and Aisyx have a lot to answer for. Well use a phone where you girls go to chat, or use her cell phone, and I'll collect you both. This is my turf and it's my job to protect both of you.”
Aw, I love this man!
“Okay,” I nod.
“See you soon, petal. Take care of my babies and my babe for me.”
It makes me instinctively run my hand across my belly again, the aching gnaw of desire increasing.
“I love you,” I whisper, staring out the window at rooftops, wishing he could catch my words on the
wind.
“I love you too. Now hurry up with your agenda so I can hold you again.” A beep interrupts us. “I have a call coming through on the other line, hang on...”
I listen to nothingness, nerves slowly rising in tension while I wait.
Click, “Zaria, it's Sveta on the other line and I have to take this call. Call me asap, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod. “Bye.”
He gives me a big smooch sound as an answer and then the line goes dead.
Time to get dressed and phone Phoebe.
I love my corner of Belgrade. I live in the hubbub of activity which thrives like a hive of active bees at certain times of the day; like right now.
It's one of my rituals to spoil myself at least three times a week with kafu from a coffee house right around the corner from where I live in Vračar. It's an indulgence, a luxury, but it gives me a reason to mingle and appreciate men and women dressed for business, looking efficient; well presented mannequins of thriving modern life.
Walking out of Greenet Caffe on Bulevar Kralja Aleksandra, I'm thawed just breathing in the steam from my café latte. It's an old habit to stick the drinking spout right under my nose to inhale the fragrant vapor, and it gives me a satisfied smile as I step out of the shop into the bracing breeze.
I love this time of day. The sun seems weak and the sky seems watery, as if even the morning isn't awake until it's been given a strong cup of java.
Wakey wakey world, it's after ten o'clock, time to shake off the shivers and crack open a can of Papagalos.
If I don't stop at Greenet I go to Costa Coffee in Svetozara Markovića Street. I love knowing I can walk to get really good coffee.
It's only a couple of blocks from where I live in Knjeginje Zorke Street and an invigorating way to start a day. It reminds me of my old life, the one I left behind when I chose to work for Pravus as their merchandise buyer, giving up the day job for a life infiltrated with vampyre.
Smiling to myself, I look up and down the walkway for no reason other than to appreciate men in well pressed trousers, crisp white shirts, and shoes so polished you could use them for morse code to signal to the other side of the river.
With my cup firmly under my nose delivering hot aromatherapy direct to my sinuses, I watch broad shoulders and black hair walk away in a calf length cuddly looking cashmere coat the color of ink.
His walk is confident, sexy, capable.
Taking the first sip of coffee to sedate my smile, I rest against the wall with my shoulder to appreciate his hands hidden away deeply in his pockets, noting the length of his stride and the way the wind catches his hair as he pauses to look for oncoming traffic.
The tailored shoulders and the way the coat is snugly fitted over the impressive ratio from shoulder to waist is eye catching. A man in an expensive tailored ensemble is always delightful to observe.
I love people watching; I could do it for hours.
The wind is relentless, pushing his fringe into his eyes, and he lifts a defined jaw to flick it away, withdrawing a hand to sculpt his hair back to where it belongs.
His bone structure is just as sublime as his clothing and I'm drawn to the muscles and bones in that strong hand. Even from here I can see his nails are manicured and trimmed clean and square.
Noir eyes coated with mystery highlight ivory skin, deepening the red of his claret lips, and as if my stare is a magnet his gaze meets mine, directly.
Oh god. It's you!
Wow, he looks breathtakingly beautiful in the morning light.
It makes me recall his words inserted in my head that first night I met him: No, overkill is when I rip my chest open to show you my scorched heart matches your shadow, and I'll always be that close to you.
He gives me a handsome smile, twisting so he faces me fully, clearly hearing my thoughts even at this distance.
Call me your guardian angel, I never stray far Zaria.
The rest of the pedestrian traffic fade out of my awareness while I'm stuck in his dark diabolical gaze.
With him smiling so benevolently at me, it warms the cold toes in my suede pixie boots.
Why? I think back to him. Ryan why are you watching me? Stalking me?
Oh god! Is he? Stalking me I mean. Crikey, why?
His focus remains fixed on me as he comes striding back, and this time I notice the ladies rubbernecking him.
He appears completely oblivious to the attention as his footfalls cross paving to bring him back to where I lurch against a cold facade.
Why am I lurking here? Cripes, I was perving at Ryan; that's just wrong on way too many levels. I'm pregnant with his brother's babies for frig's sake.
“Zari...”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Don't ruin it.”
His eyebrows arch in question, his gaze hardening on me and chilling my bones.
Refusing to speak, I say telepathically, Sometimes a woman appreciates looking. It's better to leave it at that than to engage in conversation. We'd rather think you're perfect than have you open your mouth and shatter that illusion.
I nod at him, remove my hand, and turn to walk back the other way.
Zaria!
Pausing, I swivel back to face him with the wind whisking my hair up around me.
No one's perfect, sweetheart. He says it with a nasty smile.
Gripping the coffees for warmth, I nod. I know. I once held a man in high esteem for his creative genius. I figured he had to be slightly demented to be so creative and so damn good at it. It bothered me that his left brain-right brain dominance seemed equally matched, his words and art made too much sense to make him purely a creative genius. When I had the chance to speak to him I walked straight past and didn't even acknowledge him. I'd rather live with the idea, than know the truth.
We have a visual clash in the windy road, until I can take the tension no longer and turn to keep walking. I'm meeting Phoebe to talk about the danger circling us, and have to get out of here, away from Ryan. If Ryan sees her the shit is definitely going to be hitting the proverbial fan.
The strength of his stare prickles my spine all the way up the incline, until I turn the corner just to hide behind the wall and sag, taking exaggerated breaths to calm my panic.
*
Ryan:
I wait for her to think she's lost me, and then continue shadowing her.
So much for blending in wearing business gear.
*
Zauran:
Crawling awareness hits me at the last minute. Twisting from the broken oil valve, the glint of light catches my attention just before impact.
Lifting my hands defensively against attack, metal connects with my face, blasting me backwards into the classic, my jaw crunching and exploding with agony to the soundtrack of black paint scraping on concrete.
Fuck!
My assailant doesn't give me time to move, to assess damage, to get off my fucked up bike with my now mangled face.
Metal connects with my head again, slamming brutally into me, the force is enough to wipe my vision of an enormous shadow with the stench of my blood.
I can't breathe.
Rolling, gasping, I need air.
Black dances maniacally across my view, hindering my defense while my ears sing from the distinctive thunk of metal on bone.
I've had my nose broken before and I'm pissed it just happened again; it's gushing torrents of blood all over me. The adrenaline coursing through me is too late to be effective when he viciously hammers me to the point of blacking out, cracking the back of my head in.
Breathing in the dust on the garage floor, I have blood soaking my teeth; every heartbeat pounding agony across my skull and cheekbones.
The last thing I hear is the pipe missing my head and smashing my Bonneville. I spent years restoring that baby.
Fuck!
Gurgling on hemoglobin, I hope I'll survive, the bike won't.
Blood whooshing deafens me, my lip is throbbing, my face maimed into agony.
&nb
sp; I'm going to fucking kill you...
*
Jowendrhan:
A flash of light stuns me long enough for something powerful and rock hard to crack down on my head.
Ready to disappear, to get away, I prepare to manifest elsewhere when I'm held down with so much weight it causes the cartilage in my knees to cave. My face is thrust into incoming force, crunching my nose and snapping one of my incisors.
Blood erupts out of my nose, my lip throbbing where my other incisor is embedded like a piercing. I can't open my mouth to breathe with my own fang sealing my mouth shut.
A brutal blast to the side of my head sends me keeling over, slamming my temple into the white marble of the coffee table.
Who the hell are you?
How did you find me?
Red pops painfully across my eye, blinding me to the world as incinerating agony forces consciousness to recede.
Chapter 16
Zaria:
I've arranged to meet up with Phoebe at Nikola Pašić Square, at the fountain. It's open and outdoors, and we're less likely to feel cornered.
The supernaturals would be insane to make a move on us out in public like that.
Urgency pumps my legs faster. It warms my body as my heart responds to the quickened pace. I cover the distance of Bulevar Revolucije, what we locally call Bulevar. It's the longest road in Belgrade, known now as Bulevar Kralja Aleksandra, but after world war two it was just shortened and remembered as 'Bulevar'.
Not that Phoebe would know any of this, so I had to explain everything to her in minute detail so she and Seithe can't get lost.
Waiting at the statue, the blue domes of Parliament catch the morning light, instantly reminding me of Zauran's eyes when deeply under the influence of passion.
“Zaria!”
Turning, I spot Phoebe waving me over.
I wave back, trundling over red decorative paving bricks to where she is hugging Seithe goodbye.
Seithe and Jowendrhan look identical. The brothers look like they should be twins, but aren't; and their similarity confused me endlessly when I first met them.