by M. K. Dawn
From head to toe, Nikki is the walking, talking equivalent of sex. Her body is toned from years of rigorous training. She’s every man’s fantasy, from her long blond hair and sky-blue eyes to her voluptuous breasts, tight waist, and grab-worthy ass. I should know, she’s been fulfilling my fantasies off and on for the past few years.
The training room has always been one of our favorite places to meet. She’s a fierce competitor, able to take on even the strongest man, and challenges me better than anyone, apart from the warriors. In the past, we would meet a few times a week after dinner, our late-night sparring turning into an all-night screw session, most of the time starting right here on the training room floor. The way she’s staring at me right now leads me to believe she’s ready to start back up where we left off.
“Hey, baby, looks like you need to hit something.” She bends down and places her hands on my knees so that her breasts are at eye level. Her uniform highlights her assets way too well. The v-cut top pushes her breast together making them look even bigger, if that's even possible. “The training room is empty, just like we like it.” She sticks out her ass and licks her lips.
Perhaps Ana is right. Getting laid might diminish my feelings for Alaina.
“What do you say, baby? Do you feel like working up a sweat?” As soon as her lips brush against mine, a blinding pain shoots through my head. I jerk back and knock Nikki back as a wave of nausea hits. Bending over, I dry heave as sweat pours off my body.
After the queasiness fades, I turn back to Nikki, who is still on the floor and fuming. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Gods, if I know.”
“How about you take a wild guess? Because on my end, it looked as if kissing me made you sick.”
“Nikki, that’s absurd.” I drag her off the floor and bring her to my chest. “See, just a coincidence.”
My heart aches as she snuggles closer. “Good.”
Her lips touch my neck and my body shudders, but not from pleasure. Her hands cup my ass and then the most unusual thing happens – not a damn thing. It doesn't make any sense.
She pushes up on her tippy toes and this time her lips caress mine with such passion, I should be ready to take her in an instant, but the only thing that comes up is stomach bile. I take a step back, grateful I’m able to control my gag reflex. “I can't do this.”
A look of horror crosses Nikki’s face. Guess she’s never heard those words before. Hell, I bet I'm the only guy who has ever thought them.
“It’s not you. I’m not feeling well. I think I may need to get some air. Maybe some food.”
“Is there someone else?” Her voice shakes, which is completely out of character.
“No. Of course not.” I lie, even though everything inside me screams yes. “I'm going to grab a bite. I’ll see you at the feast, okay?”
“Alright, baby.” The confident Nikki reappears. With a handful of my hair, she yanks my lips into hers. The passion that was once there now tastes of desperation. She breaks the kiss, bites my lower lip and drags her teeth like she did to her own earlier.
I rush out the door, fighting the bile rising in my throat.
***
I head for the dining hall, mindful that the odds of lunch still being served is slim to none. Lucky for me the chef has been feeding me after hours for my entire life. Not that I'm particularly hungry. My encounter with Nikki has left my bowels in knots. It can't be a coincidence that every time her lips touched me, nausea threatens to empty the contents of my stomach.
My conversation with Shae plays in my head like a broken record stuck on repeat. The similarities between her story and mine have me doubting everything. Eric’s hiding something. What that is, I have no freaking clue. It’s unlikely he’ll share his secret anytime soon. Maybe I should pay Ordin a little visit when we return, to see if he can shine some light on the situation.
The dining hall is empty, so I head back to the kitchen to see if I can scrounge any leftovers. Margie - the head chef -is at the sink scrubbing a pot to the beat of a song I don't recognize. I sit at the counter and watch as the plump woman hits the chorus, her voice in perfect pitch. She moves to the next pot never missing a beat, her body swaying. When the song ends, I applaud, and she jumps, dropping the pot into the soapy water.
“My Gods, child.” She clutches her heart and fans herself with her free hand. “You trying to give an old woman a heart attack?” Margie has always had a flair for dramatics.
“Oh, come now, Margie. You would think by now you would be used to having an audience.”
“An audience, yes. A boy sneaking up on me while I'm in the middle of my groove - no.”
My chuckles earn me a dirty rag in the face.
The woman was made for the stage and graced it with her presence whenever possible. She’s also a badass cook and has been the head chef for the royal family since she was twenty. At the ripe age of one hundred and sixty-two, she insisted on joining us on the road, stating she’d been cooking for us this long, there was no way she was stopping now.
“So, sugar, what can I do you for?”
I open my mouth to feed her some bullshit excuse I made up on the way over, but she stops me.
“Let me guess. You missed lunch because…” She looks me up and down, “you were training and lost track of time. So, you come looking for handouts from Mama Margie.” As children, she insisted we call her that, going so far as to ignore us if we didn’t. The name fit her well. A few years back she told me she was never able to have children of her own, which is why she always looked out for us warriors. Not only did she keep us well fed, she was someone we could turn to when any one of us needed to talk. She even held us when we cried, never once looking down on us when we couldn't hold up the warrior facade.
As each of my parents drifted off to the lands of the Gods, she was by my side. Both nights, she held me in her arms like a child as I cried over each of their deaths. She was the only one I had ever trusted with that grief until I met Alaina. Even with Ana, I hid my grief.
Margie opens the fridge and pulls out a plate. “You were the only one of my boys I didn't see at lunch. I figured you would make your way to me at some point.” She closes her eyes and the food steams. As a chef, she is gifted with a more advanced level of the fire element. Only these people can control fire in a way they can heat something with their hands. The rest of us would burn the plate to a crisp.
She drops the plate of chicken, rice, and broccoli in front of me and slaps my hand as I dig in before she can hand me a fork. One bite and my appetite returns in full force. It should be a sin to eat food this good.
“Tell me, sugar, what’s going on with you? You look like shit.” One of the numerous things I love about her is she is a no-bullshit kind of woman and always tells things as they are. There’s never a question where you stand with her. Doesn't matter who you are, you get the truth.
Once King Edward came home from one of the kingdoms and told Margie he had had the most decadent crème brulee ever. She scoffed at him, called him an idiot and proceeded to make a crème brulee that put all others to shame. Queen Sabrin had called for her head for such blatant disrespect. King Edward laughed it off and said – in jest - he would have her head if the crème brulee wasn't remarkable.
He was such a good man; never turned up his nose at people just because he was their ruler. Alaina seems to have inherited that trait, which is a surprise because, as a child, she was cold and cruel just like her mother.
Margie scrunches her eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Do you remember Alaina as a child?”
“Princess Lane? How could anyone forget? Horrible child. Always out to get others in trouble with the queen.”
It was how I recalled her as well. Ana said the same thing yesterday. “Do you think it's possible that life in the human realm changed her? She is nothing like she was as a child.”
“Are any of us, really? I remember you as a cocky, self-centered, con
ceited son of a bitch.” I raise an eyebrow. “Now you’re just a cocky son of a bitch. Big difference.”
“I’m worried when she gets her memories back, she’ll be a different person.” Either, the snotty girl she was back then, or someone completely different - like not the princess at all. But I keep that thought to myself.
“I bet you didn't know I saw you with her this morning.”
Fuck, here we go. “And?”
“Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for her to be different when she gets her memories back. It would make things easier.” I hadn't thought of it that way.
Margie reaches under the counter and brings up two glasses and a bottle. She pours a shot of the fiery liquid into each glass and slides one to me. “Made it myself. My own special blend of whiskey. It’ll put hair on that chest of yours for sure.” Mama was almost as famous for her liquid concoctions as she was for her cooking. Not for the taste, but for their ability to knock a grown man on his ass.
We toast and each shoot our drink back. The moment it hits my tongue the room spins. “Holy fucking shit!”
She laughs. “The effects don't last too long, an hour at the most. Eat. Food will take the edge off.”
I grab for my fork, unsure if I can use it or not. I stab at the chicken like a two-year-old, unable to get anything to stick. After a few tries, I toss the fork aside and use my hand to shovel the food in my mouth. The temperature of the food has gone from piping hot to lukewarm.
“You mind?” I slur. Margie runs her hands over the food. “Damn woman. How is it possible you have gotten even better at that?”
“Oh, I’m just that good, sugar.” She takes another shot as if it’s nothing, hands me a loaf of bread, and goes back to her dishes.
I finish my food and, as Margie said, it did take the edge off. Instead of shit-faced drunk, I'm only buzzed. “Mama Margie you have any dess-” Before I finish my sentence Nick walks in – alone. Panic bubbles to the surface. “Where’s Alaina?”
“In her tent. She’s safe. Ace is keeping an eye out for her.”
She may be safe, but the look in Nick’s eyes tells me something wrong. “What is it?”
“I don't want to alarm you, but I think something happened during her lunch with Henry.”
That bastard, if he hurt her, I will kill him, fuck the consequences. “What did she say?”
“That’s the thing, she didn't say anything. She’d been in there about an hour then called for me. She was pale and trembling but only said she was ready to go. There was a look between them that told me something went down. Halfway back to the tent, she threw up behind a tree. When we got back to her tent, I tried to ask what happened, but she asked me to leave, so I did. I walked in to check on her a few times, she was crying in her sleep. I wanted to contact you, but without your orb...”
I’m off my chair and out the door in an instant, Nick by my side. The buzz that clouded my brain only moments ago, disappears. “I know, I know. I went to see Pierce this morning but his shop had been robbed, all of the replacement orbs stolen.”
“Who would want a bunch of un-synced orbs?” Nick sounds as confused as I felt when I heard the news.
“Hell, if I know.”
“Anyway,” Nick continues, “when Ace walked by, I had him take over, then went to the training room. I ran into Nikki, who told me you were feeling sick and headed to the dining hall to find something to eat.”
All I can think about is what Henry could have possibly done to make Alaina throw up after lunch with him. “That son of a bitch. If he did anything to upset her…”
“Brady,” Nick warns, “I know you care for her and you’re not the only one. But getting yourself killed isn't going to do anyone any good.”
He’s right, but I can't seem to calm the fury building inside of my chest. The rational side of my brain has shut down, allowing my emotions to take full control.
I fly past Ace and enter Alaina’s tent. She’s still asleep, her face damp with tears. The cotton sheets are tangled and tossed to the side, her pillows scattered on the floor. Out of nowhere, she screams. I sprint towards the bed, grab her hand and stroke her face.
“It’s okay, I'm here,” I whisper in her ear.
Alaina wakes disorientated. Her eyes are red and swollen. How long had she been crying?
“Alaina? Are you okay? You were having a bad dream, crying in your sleep again. Do you remember what it was about?”
Her face lightens. “You’re here.”
“I told you I always would be.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alaina
Hand in hand, we walk through the woods as Brady leads the way.
“Where are we going?” I’ve asked him this a hundred times, but still, all I get is a mischievous smile. “Fine, don't tell me. I don't want to know, anyway.”
“It's not far now. Just over this hill.” Sure, it is. That's the same line he has given me for the last hour.
“Hear that?” he asks.
I stop and listen closely. The sound is familiar, but I can't place it.
“Come on. Almost there.” We climb until we hit the top of the ridge and look out upon the clearing. My breath catches as I spot the most beautiful waterfall I have ever seen. It's massive, at least a hundred feet high, ending in a pond as blue as the sea. The water cascading down reflects the sun in such a way that countless rainbows adorn the picturesque haven. It looks more like a painting than reality.
Brady stands behind me, arms wrap around my waist. “Do you like it?” he whispers, kissing my ear. His lips are like heaven, enhancing the magic of this place.
“It's amazing.”
“Good. I thought this would be a perfect place for lunch and maybe a late afternoon swim.” With his finger on my chin, he turns my head towards a picnic set up on the ledge of the cliff that surrounds the water.
My eyes tear up for no reason other than the fact that it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I wrap my arms around his neck then pull him down to my lips. The chaste kiss turns steamy in mere seconds, causing my heart to race. Without breaking the connection, Brady picks me up and I wrap my legs around his hips. He walks us towards the blanket and places me down, leaving my lips swollen and my body on fire. “Lunch first. Want to make sure you replenish that energy spent walking here. You’re going to need it.” He gives me a little wink.
I blush, giggling like a schoolgirl on a first date with the quarterback of the football team. “That was a long walk. Why didn't we just transport here?”
“I thought the walk would be more fun. Let's be honest, to really appreciate a place like this, you’ve got to work for it.”
I shrug. “Perhaps.”
We sit for a while, eating a variety of fine cheeses, meats, and crackers, drinking wine and talking, enjoying each other’s company. After lunch, Brady leads us to the base of the falls. “Care for a dip?”
“I didn't bring my bathing suit.”
“Neither did I.” He removes his clothes and I want to turn away, embarrassed at his lack of modesty, but I force my eyes to stay on him, taking in every inch of his spectacular body. It's not like this is the first time I have seen him naked. He dives in without as much as a splash. Once he re-appears he looks at me with such lust my body aches. “Let’s go, Princess, get your gorgeous ass in here.”
I go to remove my dress when I hear something off in the distance. “Did you hear that?”
“Alaina,” Brady warns.
The sound is lyrical, drawing me towards its hypnotic rhythm. It calls to me, begging me to follow, so I do. I walk as if my feet have a mind of their own. Then the pain comes. It's as if a knife has been stuck in the depths of my body. My soul screams in pain. I try to break away from the music, but it pulls me further and further into the woods.
“Brady,” my heart screams. I search for him but I'm too far gone. The knife hits again, this time as if it were trying to cut out my soul. I double over, the pain too much for me to
bear. Then a white light appears above. It whispers a promise if I just reach out and touch it. The promise of no more pain, no more loss, and no more hurt. The knife digs deeper this time and a blood-curdling scream leaves my lips. My soul begs me not to give into the pain, that what I will lose will be so much worse, but the pain is unbearable. In an act of sheer desperation, I lift my hand, but it never reaches the light.
I wake up confused as to where I am or what’s going on. It takes a few minutes to realize that I'm not in the forest but in my bed. The last thing I remember is Brady grabbing my hand to stop me from touching the white light. Thank the Gods, it was all a dream. Except for Brady, who is sitting by my side, my hand in his with a worried look on his face.
“Was I dreaming again?”
He nods and I flush. I was used to being the crazy girl with nightmares but was it really too much to ask that it didn't follow me here? “Wonderful.” I roll my eyes. “Did Nick go and get you?”
“He did. He was concerned.” The way he says that makes me think we aren't just talking about my nightmare.
“That's nice of him, but I’m fine. I have nightmares all the time, ask anyone. It's kind of my thing.” My feeble attempt to lighten the mood only seems to only agitate him further.
“Is it also your thing,” wow, I did not peg him for an air quotes kind of guy, “to throw up after having lunch with your future husband?”
“Technically, that was the first time I had lunch with him, so I don't know how to answer that.”
Brady scowls.
Oops. Guess I took the sarcasm one step too far.
He’s off the bed and begins to pace like a caged animal. He runs his hands through his hair in an obvious attempt to gain some control over his temper. “Did he hurt you?” His words come out strained.
“Of course, not. I would have found you if he did.”
“Then what the hell happened? Nick said you were pale when he came in. Then you threw up on the way back to your tent.”
“I don't know. He and I were talking. He was telling me about how you stole his girlfriend when you were kids. I had a momentary lapse in judgment and felt sorry for him about it. He opened his mouth again and it vanished. He asked me to stay for a while so we could get to know each other better before we got married. I asked when that was and he shared with me the timeline. I guess the thought of marrying him in a few short weeks freaked me out.” I leave out the part about Henry grabbing my waist. He’s already too close to the edge. No reason to push him over.