by Aliyah Burke
Eventually, Tiarnán’s words came back to him. About how he needed to focus and not think about her. He’d be no good to her dead. Power surged up through him and sparks lit him and the sword as he swung it again and again, driving Kuruk back.
A demon—one of the few who remained, most of them had vanished out another door to the back of the room—rose up and launched fire at him. His sign took the blunt of it, dissolving the flames.
Kuruk knew what he was doing and Cale had to concentrate. He spied a demon nearing Taylor. “No!” he cried, reaching for a dagger to send when the creature fell into a heap by the table.
Tiarnán flowed from invisibility to visibility and back again. Cale focused back on Kuruk, knowing that Taylor would be safe from any other attack.
“You need his help always, Cale. You’re not strong enough to defeat me.”
The explosion sent flames pouring in. Kuruk took a few seconds and stared at it. Cale swung, knocking free from his block for another attack and spinning in close where he flipped his hand grip and drove the sharp metal directly up. It penetrated Kuruk beneath the chin and didn’t stop until it burst through the top of his skull.
He dropped, but Cale already had set his sights on the woman he’d come for. The fire was spreading exponentially fast. He went to lift her and saw she was chained there. Calling forth another weapon, he cut through the links holding her arms and legs then replaced the weapon all in one move.
Blood ran from her and he cupped her cheek. “Taylor.” The smoke thickened and made it difficult to breathe.
“Move!” Tiarnán cried.
Scooping her up in his arms, he grabbed her batons as well. “There is another door towards the back.”
“Get moving then. I’m almost there.”
The tunnel wasn’t smooth, but it was wide enough that it was easy to move through. They burst out into the rainy night and he turned in time to see the house’s final collapse. The faint sounds of gunfire reached them and he also heard dogs barking. Over it all however, he identified the familiar sound of a chopper.
Together they ran to an opening and waited. Out of the clouds and rain she appeared, handling it like it was nothing. Aminta lowered and they hopped in. She never actually touched the ground, more hovered. The second Tiarnán joined them, she lifted off again and he turned his attention to the woman in his arms.
She lay there, unresponsive.
“Come on, babe.” He sent what healing he could to her. Placing his head against hers, he grabbed her close to him. Don’t leave me.
Her heartbeat was slow and sporadic. He pulled back and stared at her beneath the soft, interior helo lights. Blood mingled with her rain-soaked clothing and the anger began anew. The sparks danced along his skin, however when they moved to her they began to fade.
Not a good sign.
He lifted her shirt and growled low at the sight of her injuries. These were only the ones he could see now—he knew there were more. Tiarnán unfolded a few blankets and laid them out. Reluctantly, he placed her there.
“Arm.”
He moved to Taylor’s other side and grabbed her arm. Forgive me, babe. With a sharp move, he straightened out her broken arm, wincing at the sound of the bones grating before settling into their proper place. She remained lifeless.
Through eyes blurry with unshed tears, he gazed to Tiarnán. The unreadable mask was in place, but it was then Cale noticed a gaping wound on his side.
“You’re injured.”
The man hadn’t said anything to him about it.
Tiarnán followed his gaze to the open injury and shrugged. “Tend her first, she’s your mate.”
Yes, she was and would be forever. However, they also needed all the Guardians. Tiarnán took the choice from him by moving to the front and sitting in the co-pilot’s seat as Aminta flew.
Cale lay beside her, wrapping her in his arms as well as the mist of his sign. Pressing his lips to her temple, he healed her best he could. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would keep her alive until they got back.
No more pussy-footing around, he was making sure she knew how much meant to him.
* * * *
She stirred and opened her eyes. Today there was more energy in her and she had the urge to get up and move about. Glancing around, she recognised her location—Cale’s room. She’d spent enough nights in here to know what it looked like. What was odd, was the fact she identified some of her personal things in there.
When she’d woken, she’d always been alone, but she knew that Cale had been near. His scent surrounded her, calmed her, soothed her. She glanced down and smiled at the sight of one of his grey shirts covering her.
“Welcome back, babe.”
The man she’d just been thinking about strode into view, carrying a tray that he set down at the foot of the bed. She licked her lips as she took in his appearance. His tight shirt and jeans that rode low on his lean hips did things to her that informed her she was well on her way to recovery. His dark brown hair hung forward, shielding one eye. She wanted to get up and brush it back so she could see both. Then kiss him. Run her fingers along his physique and relearn the feel of his body.
He stood alongside her and cupped her upturned face in his hands. She held her breath as he moved closer. When their lips met, she opened beneath his quest willingly. His tongue slid along hers, engaging her to tangle with him. She leaned into his touch, plastering one hand against his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart thumping beneath her palm.
Cale ended the kiss and captured her chin in one hand. “I have something to tell you.”
A moment of panic set in. “Who’s hurt? Did they get the pendant? Did—”
He covered her mouth with one hand. “Everyone’s fine.”
She dodged free, feeling much better. “Of course. X-Men win, it’s what they do.”
He arched an eyebrow and she made the motion of zipping her lips. He shook his head but didn’t hide the smile. “I moved you into my room, which I’m sure you can tell. I am so sorry, you were taken, Taylor. I wish—”
She slapped one of her hands over his lips, halting his words. To hell with not saying anything until he’d finished. It wasn’t going to happen, she wouldn’t allow him to shoulder the blame for what happened. “No way, Cale. Don’t blame yourself for that. It was Haley. That had been her purpose, to get close to me so she could take me back with her.”
He gently removed her hand. “Why? Why would she do that?”
“She was born into it. Her father is some being named Hara.”
His expression could have been carved out of ice. “What did you say?”
“Hara. Did you catch her? She was there. Along with Blake and they were worried about a man named Lamar. Well, more Blake was. She seemed to think her father was one of the beings you wanted to kill.”
“We didn’t catch either of them, they must have slipped out.” He nudged her over and sat on the bed beside her, gathering her close.
“That Tryvek thing was still dead though, right?”
“You met Tryvek?”
She shuddered at the memory. “I killed him. Or at least I think I did.”
His lips brushed the top of her head. “He’s dead all right. You did that?”
“Baton through the eye.” She shrugged. “Who knew.”
“When I think about how I could have lost you,” he began. “No, let me talk, Taylor. It tears me apart. It’s why you’re here in my room. I want you to stay. Forever. In my room. At the vineyard.” He cleared his throat. “With me.”
She tipped her head back and peered at him. “With you?
“Only me.” He traced her lips with his fingers. “I love you, Taylor. I think I’ve half been in love with you since the first time I saw you.”
Her heart kicked up. “Because of the thing that just happened?”
“Because of who you are, Taylor Kenyon. Nothing other than that.” He kissed her tenderly. “Because of what you represent, to me
.”
She broke their eye connection and stared across the room. “I’m no one special, Cale.”
“You are to me, Taylor. To me, you’re the world.”
He put her on his lap and she rubbed at the skin just under the cast on her arm. She wanted to wind her arms around him, but she couldn’t, so she rested her head against his chest.
“I love you, too, Cale. I want to stay here with everyone. With you.”
His kiss dominated her and she arched into him, body burning for more. When he pulled back she whimpered in frustration. She wanted him, his thick cock inside her. Delivering her to the heights she knew he would.
“Cale,” she begged.
He readjusted them so she lay between his legs and wrapped his arms around her. “I want you too, but you’re still recovering.”
Like hell. She refused to be deterred and took his hand, moving it under the blankets, to settle it over her pussy. She only wore his shirt and a pair of underwear.
“Does that feel like I need more recovery?”
She knew she was wet and ground against his hand. He groaned and rubbed her. Taylor nearly purred and widened her legs, grasping his wrist to keep him there.
“You’re killing me,” he swore.
Cale readjusted his hand and slipped his fingers beneath the material. She moaned aloud as he skimmed her sensitive flesh. He began to tease her, up and down her slit he moved. Brushing her clit and almost—almost—entering her. But he didn’t. She writhed and begged, whimpered and cried, yet he refused to allow her to reach that peak.
“Tell me again,” he whispered, bringing her tight to his chest, nipping the side of her throat. “Tell me the words.”
“I love you.”
“Once more.”
“I love you, Cale Mattox.”
He entered her with two thick fingers and she bucked her hips up into his hand, driving him farther inside her. The palm of his hand pressed against her clit and as he began to move, she crested. It didn’t take much. Just him. His touch. His love. She rode out her orgasm and Cale didn’t let her off with just one. He gave her more than that. She slumped against him, exhausted, and he kissed her again.
“I’m not letting you go, Taylor.”
She smiled into the crook of his neck. “Good. I’d hate to get kidnapped again just so you could come rescue me.”
She fell asleep that way and when she woke, he lay in the bed with her and she rested upon his bare chest.
“The others want to see you,” he said, his hand smoothing up and down her back.
She moved the fingers of her broken arm. “Do we have to go now? I was hoping we could figure out how much more I could do with a broken arm.”
His gaze turned fiery hot as he grinned. “They can wait.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
In Aeternum: Casanova in Training
Aliyah Burke
Excerpt
Chapter One
Rain ran in rivulets from both his black coat and the brim of his cover. Lieutenant Commander Giovanni Cassano barely moved, even with the loud and angry retorts of gunfire. The noise sounded ominous. Three sets of shots fired by the seven impassive men. He flexed one hand into a fist before relaxing and allowing the smooth glove to straighten.
Through the dreariness, the beginning notes of Taps started to play, weaving in and out of the raindrops with haunting precision. His right hand snapped up in a sharp salute as his shoulders automatically squared even more.
With a deep breath, he fixated on the casket and the two stoic men who had the honour and privilege of folding the flag. Their movements precise and perfected. Each of the thirteen folds corresponded to an important meaning and allowed him to see the wet gloves the men wore. White cotton to his black leather.
First fold was representative of life. He swallowed hard and blinked. Two, three and four took place. The fifth fold, a tribute to the country. Tears burned the corners of his eyes. Six, seven, eight and nine. The tenth fold was a tribute to fathers, for they, too, had given both sons and daughters for the protection of the country since they were first born.
Stiffening his spine, Giovanni clenched his jaw as he watched the remaining three folds to complete the thirteen, so the flag looked like a cocked hat. A reminder of the soldiers who served under George Washington, the sailors and marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, and all those men and women who followed them in the United States Armed Forces, preserving the rights, privileges and freedoms enjoyed today. As the two men finished folding, the final poignant note faded from the air. And the salutes ended.
He stood ramrod straight. Only his gaze moved as he tracked the presenter who paused before the slender auburn-haired woman clad in black. Michelle Walker. She sat there under a canopy beside her father to accept the flag.
None of the military members there seemed affected by the steady downpour.
“On behalf of a grateful nation,” the presenter said, offering the folded flag.
Giovanni saw Michelle hesitate. The man with the flag waited, unmoving, until she finally took it. His hand rose into a salute and, when she gave him a nod, he completed it. The rain increased but Giovanni watched Michelle hold the flag to her chest.
Over the pounding of the rain came the unmistakable sound of fighter jets. He lifted his gaze to see the four planes scream overhead, his heart clenched with a mixture of pain and regrets that he wasn’t even close to being ready to face. A lone jet peeled off and his heart did that same thing again. It should have been him up in the one that honoured the fallen man. But no… He had yet to be cleared for flight status.
He ground his jaw and ignored the threatening tears. One by one people filed away, the rain not allowing the mourners any respite. Finally it was him and the two family members. His legs wouldn’t cooperate and he had to force them to move him closer.
Stopping at the middle of the closed casket, he took a deep breath, and snapped a salute. “Goodbye, my friend,” he murmured before lowering his hand and walking off.
Anger ate at his gut. It was never easy to lose a member of the military. However, when it was a fellow pilot and best friend, it became that much harder.
“Giovanni?” a rattled yet distinctly feminine voice reached him. And halted him.
He swallowed before pivoting around to face her. Damn it! For a brief second he was seeing him again. Alive and well. Michael Walker. Sidewinder. Best friend.
She moved closer, the folded flag still clasped tightly to her chest. It hurt looking at her. Mike’s twin. A softer, feminine version of Michael, but he was still there in her delicate features.
“Michelle.” He hated how gravelled his voice sounded.
Green eyes watched him steadily. “You were going to leave without a word?”
He put his gaze on their…her father. Martin Walker showed his age. He seemed so tired and worn out. However, in his eyes, there was anger. The siblings had taken after their mother. Giovanni had always teased Mike about being so pretty. Now his body had been so badly burnt and mangled it had had to be a closed-casket ceremony.
“No,” he managed to say as he glanced from father to daughter. “I was going to wait by the car. Allow you final moments.”
Martin shook his hand briefly then nudged Michelle. She lifted one gloved hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Take this.” She held the flag out to him.
His heart seized as he glanced at the flag. Stars uppermost to remind us of our nation’s motto.
“No. I can’t. That is for you.”
Her smile was shaky at best. “Mike would want you to have it.”
Giovanni glanced to Martin, ready to plead his case, only to pause. The look Martin bore told him the flag wouldn’t be going back with them. Martin was in a rage from having just buried his only son. He focused on Michelle and saw the opposite. She loathed to give it up and was only doing so for her father.
Almost as if he hovered outside his body, he saw himself r
eaching for the flag. Michelle relinquished it to him but didn’t step back. Instead, she lifted his hand, pressed the flag against his chest, and hugged him.
“Keep him safe,” she whispered in his ear.
More of those damn tears threatened. “When you’re ready to take it…” He trailed off.
“Thank you, Giovanni.”
“Michelle!” Martin barked.
She flinched at the tone but squeezed him one more time. A quick peck on the lips and she was gone. They were gone. Moreover, he stood in the raining cemetery, holding the flag given for the loss of his best friend’s life. The thunder rolled, ominous, and the rain picked up even more.
He needed a drink. Badly. And, after he returned to his hotel room and changed from his uniform, he set off to do just that.
* * * *
The bar was crowded and noisy. Just what he wanted—a place to become invisible. He claimed a corner booth and sat there, bottle of Jack on the table beside him. He poured a drink for his fallen friend and drank it.
“Here’s to you, Sidewinder.”
Then he did his best to forget the pain inside him. He knew what Mike would have said. “Find a woman and enjoy life. Don’t cry for me.”
Easier to think than to do. With dispassionate eyes, he watched the activity around him. Many women sauntered up to him, only to leave again when he ignored them.
He poured another drink, craving the blur it made of his memory. He paused with his glass halfway to his lips. An unfamiliar tingle skated along the back of his neck. Glancing around the establishment, he found himself focusing on a woman he didn’t recognise or recall entering. She sat with another but he couldn’t look away from her.
She had skin that reminded him of hot chocolate, with some whipped cream blended in. Lickable. Black hair drawn up and away from her face in a ponytail, it fell down to almost her shoulder blades. A low, purely animalistic reaction hit him square in the gut. His cock sprang to attention and he was halfway out of the booth before he realised it.