by Aja James
Dalair stood against the outside wall beside the bathroom door with folded arms. He listened to her brushing her teeth, turning on the shower and removing her clothes. He closed his eyes to magnify his other senses so that he could tune out the background noise.
“You’re sleeping on the floor,” Sophia called out in a raised voice to be heard over the strong spray of the water. Unfortunately, she often forgot that Dalair’s Gift was his hyper-developed senses, so her loud voice was like fingernails against the chalkboard of his eardrums.
“I have a sleeping bag and an extra comforter you can use,” she continued in the same pitch, causing Dalair to cringe ever so slightly. He concentrated for a moment and dialed his hearing down, while still blocking out the background noise.
He wouldn’t need the comforter, Dalair thought, but he remained silent.
“And I don’t want to get any argument from you about my leaving the lights on when I sleep,” Sophia groused some more, “that’s the way I like it so you can just deal.”
Again, Dalair didn’t feel he needed to comment. Of course, he would adhere to her preferences. She was his queen. He would never gainsay her.
Unless it was for her own protection.
Some minutes of silence passed and then he heard, “You better keep your clothes on when you sleep. I don’t ever want to see you naked.”
A pause. Then, “Not that I give that a lot of thought, I mean, I don’t think about you naked at all. But just in case you do that sort of thing – you know- sleep naked. You just better not do it near me.”
Dalair frowned slightly. Verily, he didn’t understand her at all. It seemed like she was an entirely different person from the queen he once served. But
sometimes… sometimes he felt a recognition for her deep within his soul.
Another few minutes and Sophia emerged from the bathroom in a fluffy white robe, the baby animals on her light blue PJs on full display beneath its hem. Over-stuffed pink piggy slippers warmed her feet and made her waddle rather than walk. She was toweling off her shoulder-length chestnut hair as she came around the enormous four-poster king-sized bed to pull back the covers and stack her pillows for bed-time reading.
Looking at her comfortable bed and the hard floor beside the bed covered only by a colorful thin wool rug, Sophia felt a pang of conscience. If it were Aella, or any other of the Elite for that matter, who was here right now with her, she wouldn’t hesitate to invite them to share her comforts. She’d been raised by the Zodiac, after all. They were family to her – parents, aunts and uncles, elder brothers and sisters.
In the beginning, she’d felt the same familial affection and love for everyone, including Dalair. In fact, when she’d been a child, he was always her favorite companion. He spent the most time guarding her and taking care of her than any other Elite member, despite Valerius’ role as Protector. And up until Sophia was ten, she’d often slept in his bed, seeking him out in the middle of the night when nightmares plagued her. In many ways, he’d been her security blanket.
And then she discovered that she liked boys.
She had crushes on various boys from her schools and was quite inspired by a couple to compose exceedingly bad love letters. But somehow when she came home to the Shield, one look at Dalair and she felt dissatisfied, frustrated, and downright angry.
Her attitude towards him changed very gradually. First there was the separation, until the Elite resumed their normal rotational schedule for taking care of her, and she saw Dalair more and more infrequently compared to the earlier years of her childhood. Then there was the distancing, when she purposefully forced herself to take a more active and consistent interest in boys her own age, human boys, that is. She made herself look upon Dalair with the same indifference as one would gaze at scenery and art.
Incredibly amazing scenery and art. On the same relative scale as the Taj Mahal or Michelangelo’s David, but scenery and art nevertheless.
And finally, there was resentment. For some reason, very recently in fact, Sophia felt inexplicably irritated, annoyed and all out frustrated whenever Dalair was near. It was as if PMS hit her hard and fast only in his presence. He could do and say nothing right.
Sometimes, she even hated him.
“Um, look,” Sophia muttered grudgingly, as if speaking the words left a bitter taste in her mouth, “you don’t have to sleep on the floor. You can take the other side of the bed and we can roll the comforter and sleeping bag into a barrier between us so you don’t get slapped and kicked when I spread out during the night. I tend to move around a lot.”
“No need,” he replied in an even tone, always that blasted even tone, “the floor is fine.”
“Suit yourself,” Sophia said rather haughtily with a toss of her hair. “Don’t blame me if you catch cold or get back pains.”
Without responding, Dalair spread the sleeping bag and comforter on the floor right beside Sophia’s side of the bed and lay down on his side facing away from her, using his bicep as a pillow. He would not sleep this night, he knew, not when the danger was ever increasing, but he didn’t want to sit or stand looking wide awake and making his presence seem more intrusive.
Sophia got settled in her bed, leaned back against her tall stack of pillows and pretended to read. The room was brightly lit with an overhead chandelier and her bedside lamp. She used this opportunity to assess the Paladin unobserved.
He was the leanest and shortest Elite warrior, though he still stood over six feet tall. His build reminded Sophia of Middle Eastern or Latin American men, leaner in the chest and especially at the waist than Europeans. But proportionally, at least in Sophia’s opinion, his type of figure was the most beautiful. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips with long, lean limbs, his torso making a perfect upside down trapezoid. The only curve on his unyielding body was his taut, muscular buttocks, and that only made him even more appealing in his overwhelming masculinity.
Sophia was an ass woman and his ass was probably the finest she’d ever seen. Her fingers itched to test it for resilience, her teeth tingled to sink into the tantalizing flesh. No doubt about it, the Paladin had a world-class backside.
Rather like a wild Arabian stallion.
Dalair did nothing to emphasize his “charms,” though that didn’t stop Sophia from ogling him every chance she got. It was an involuntary reaction. She often didn’t even know she was doing it until someone or something alerted her that she hadn’t blinked in a long period of time.
When she caught herself in the act, she was always very annoyed. What was the point of lusting after the Paladin? Like they would ever end up dating. She kept reminding herself to save her hormones for the human boys. The risk/ reward ratio was much more attractive in that case.
Sophia watched his deep, even breathing lift and depress his ribcage with utter fascination. It was hypnotic, really, and strangely soothing. If she could just see Dalair breathe like this, then everything was all right with the world. And if it wasn’t, then it would be. Because he was here, and she had absolute faith he would make it so.
Reminding herself to keep up the pretense of reading, she flipped over a page of her romance novel but kept her gaze glued to Dalair’s back. And then it roved covetously down his spine to his perfectly developed backside.
Sophia licked her lips as the room began to grow warmer and her mouth grow drier.
Abruptly, she wondered how he compared to Ere. Both were dark-haired, of similar height. If she put them side by side, Dalair was by far more masculine with his bronzed skin, lean muscles and ever-serious weight-of-the-world expression.
Ere, on the other hand, while intensely masculine when Sophia didn’t have Dalair to compare him to, seemed more refined, elegant, definitely more of a scholar type than a warrior type, which made sense. He was hauntingly beautiful, whereas Dalair was…
Well, Sophia still didn’t know what Dalair was.
Both men exuded a powerful undercurrent of sexual magnetism. Sophia had an i
dea Ere was well attuned to his own powers of attraction and knew how to use them. Dalair, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue. But Goddess above, he sure poured out that sexual energy in wave after rolling wave, somehow made more potent by the fact that he wasn’t even trying, wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
Like now.
She felt the pull from him like the moon felt enslaved to the sun. It made her want to do things. Even raunchier things than biting his ass. Made her want to spread herself like a second layer of skin over his naked body and crawl into him. Made her wish she had Pure-female fangs to sink into this throat, his biceps, his lower abdomen just above his pubic bone, his inner thighs, his –
“Go to sleep, Sophia,” Dalair ordered gruffly in a surprisingly unsettled tone, startling her enough to drop her book to the floor.
He didn’t help her pick it up, but remained in his long held position, lying on his side. Sophia shot daggers at his back as she dangled half off the bed, almost losing her balance, trying to fetch her novel.
She slapped the novel onto her bedside table and made a production of getting settled into her cocoon of thick comforters and pillows, moving around and flipping about.
“Good night,” she called out in a muffled voice, sounding peeved and pouting.
Dalair did not respond in kind, focusing all of his energy into making his body calm down.
It wasn’t going to be a good night for him, not by a long shot. Not when his body ached so badly to get inside of hers, it was all he could do not to cup himself in agony.
He’d felt her gaze upon him ever since he’d lain down. He’d sensed her increasing arousal by listening to her breathing quicken, her heart pound, by inhaling her heady scent, blossoming thickly with her excitement. He could almost see in his mind’s eye what she saw in hers as she scrutinized his body with sexual interest.
But he would never be the one for her, Dalair thought as his heart clenched in pain. He’d never had that right and he knew he never would.
*** *** *** ***
Tristan came behind his Mate and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck in small light grazes, nuzzling against her and inhaling deeply her familiar scent.
“You’re home early tonight,” Ayelet greeted, tilting her head to one side to give him better access. But she kept her gaze fixed on the giant dual-screen display in front of her, her fingers busy tapping keys as she continued her search for Seth and Leonidas’ potential replacements.
“We have some leads,” Tristan responded, hugging her back to his front and settling his chin lightly on top of her head as was their habit. “We ran into a rogue vampire who used to belong to the faction that was annihilated in the train tunnel. They used to have dealings with another group, much older, much more powerful in its members, to divide territories and agree on ground rules for hunting humans. The older group wanted to absorb this faction into its midst, but not to build a Hive – instead it seemed like they were recruiting for an army. The faction refused.”
“Who is the other vampire Horde’s leader?” Ayelet asked, her key strokes stilling.
“The vampire didn’t know. He’s never seen or heard the person, but the older vampire faction was definitely acting under orders. They were also remarkably organized and well-behaved, as if they were trained soldiers. Yet their general never made an appearance.”
Ayelet absorbed that with a nod. “And how did you manage to get so much information out of a rogue vampire?”
She felt her Mate smile against her head. “Aella can be very persuasive. Between his attraction to her and the business end of her dagger, the Rogue couldn’t deny us what he knew.”
“How much of what he divulged can we trust?”
“Some more digging will tell,” the Champion answered. “But I am inclined to follow the leads he gave us. He seemed to be trying to reform – he was gaunt with starvation and he professed that he would continue to avoid harming humans while trying to find another way to survive. He says he’s in love with a human woman, if you can imagine that.”
“I can,” Ayelet sighed. “We often view the vampires as blood-sucking monsters, our nemesis and the nemesis of human kind. But we must not forget that they were once just like us, Pure Ones devoted to protecting this world and the humans within it. It is tragic that they became what they are simply because they lost their hearts to the wrong partners. The yearning to love and be loved in return should not warrant such cruel punishment.”
“Your words can be considered blasphemous,” Tristan commented without heat, “I didn’t know you were a vampire sympathizer.”
Ayelet turned in her Mate’s arms to regard him. “I sympathize with them as living, feeling creatures of this earth. If the Goddess saw fit to allow them this path of life, surely they cannot be all evil. Since their creation, they seem to be as much part of the Universal Balance as we are. And people change, souls transform. It is a cycle we all serve. Perhaps the vampires are changing too. Just look at the increasing number of Hives around the world. They are becoming much more organized, even civilized. They even have their own Queens.”
She rested her head against her lover’s chest and was immediately gratified by the strong beat of his heart. “Besides, I sympathize because I have you. I know how rare and special our bond is. This is what a Pure One reached out for when they broke the One Sacred Law. How can I begrudge them that desire when I myself have felt the same?”
Tristan hugged her tightly to him and stroked her long blonde mane soothingly.
“I remember the first time I saw you,” Ayelet murmured dreamily. “You had just been revived. You looked so bewildered and in such pain from the transformation. And all I could think was ‘I want him for my own. I would do anything to have him, even if it cost me everything.’ I took that risk with you knowing full well the consequences if you didn’t return my love, but I never hesitated even for a moment. If my death was a consequence, I wouldn’t have regretted making that choice. My existence would have been meaningless without you.”
Ayelet put her hands on her Mate’s hips, then smoothed them covetously over his taut backside, massaging and squeezing leisurely, stoking the fire within him. “I do not know if I would have taken death or life as a vampire, and I’m eternally grateful I didn’t have to face that impossible choice. So I can’t righteously judge those who have walked a similar path, get their heart broken, and then be confronted with such a brutal reality. I suppose my own happiness has made me more in tune with the sadness of others.”
“It is one of the many reasons I love you,” Tristan responded warmly and pushed his arousal into the softness of her belly. “Come, my dearest one, let me show you the depth of my devotion.”
*** *** *** ***
Valerius held Rain tightly as she slept, her back to his front as he curved around her in their customary cocoon.
It was almost dawn, but he’d been wide awake all night with embattled thoughts, struggling between his body’s imperative to Serve her and his mind’s terror at the true mating act. Added to this were Wan’er’s warning from earlier in the day.
No matter what it cost him, he had to try.
Involuntarily he shuddered as his heart clenched painfully. What if he could not overcome his demons? What if his body was too tainted with the horrors and filth of his past to fulfill her needs? What if his mind denied the release she needed from him?
What if he failed to please her?
He’d never been kissed. Never kissed a female in a non-filial way. The tormenters in his human life had always avoided his mouth after the first time they ventured near and almost went away with a missing body part. He’d never had to control his body, having always had it controlled for him, used as his abusers saw fit. And he was too big. If he couldn’t fit into the mistress despite her countless and cruelly inventive efforts, how could he possibly fit inside the tiny, utterly fragile Healer?
She’d shown him a small insight on how to bring her pleasure the other ni
ght. But that was all he knew. He didn’t know where to begin or how to end. He feared down to his bones that she might have been right – he didn’t know the first thing about being her Consort.
Didn’t know how to be a Pure-male.
There were times he fell into deep despair, feeling trapped again inside the fourteen year-old boy who’d been brutalized and traumatized. Wanting to claw his way out of his own skin, yet feeling as if he would just get dragged back down, further and further into the abyss. Into a black void of pain and hopelessness.
When they’d retired to their chamber earlier in the night, he’d awkwardly offered to Service her. She gently declined, saying she wished to sleep and that all she wanted was for him to hold her.
But he could see the strain of exhaustion and weakness in her eyes, in the small white lines around her mouth, the way she barely held herself upright, the translucent paleness of her skin.
If there was one good thing he accomplished in his long existence, Valerius wanted to ensure the Healer’s strength and vitality. Rain’s strength and vitality. There was only ever Rain. He dared not think of her as his, but he knew from the first time they met that he was unequivocally hers. He’d only been delaying the inevitable. Denying the very reason for his being.
Tentatively, he trailed a hand down her side, over her slim hip and along her thigh to the edge of her filmy silk nightgown. He eased the material upwards and over her sleeping form, moving her limbs easily to pull the gown over her head, leaving her body naked against his own.
She stirred a little, but remained in slumber, curling more tightly into a ball, her arms crossed over her small, pink-tipped breasts as if she were cold or shy.
Valerius fitted himself closer to her huddled form and smoothed a large hand over her body, soothing her enough to relax gradually and reveal more of her front to his delicate touch.