by Jen Colly
She stood, stretching her tired body. She’d sat in the same position for hours, and now her muscles craved motion. “Are you done?” she asked, speared her fingers through her hair and lifted it off her neck, piled it on top of her head.
“No. One more class, then I’m done for the day.” His attention drifted to the locker room and the approaching men. “Sit.”
“Don’t worry, I can’t run away from you. My legs feel like jelly,” she said, lifting her heels off the ground in an attempt to revive her circulation.
Soren glanced at the locker room again, then back at her. “You need to sit now.”
“Don’t bully me just because you’ve been doing it all day with them,” she said, hands on hips.
Three men walked in, curiously eyeing her as she faced off with Soren. Game over, at least for now. A man with a wounded ego would be hell to live with, and she had to live with him, so she sat, relishing the confusion on his face.
She crossed her legs and smiled sweetly at him, leaving Soren nothing to do but join the men. Unlike the awkward boys and young men she had seen earlier today, these three warriors commanded the room. In the midst of such strength and power, Soren fit perfectly.
“Nero, where is Steffen?” he asked.
“He’s sleeping off the dawn,” Nero said quietly, and dipped his chin for a brief moment.
What did it mean for someone to sleep off the dawn? When put in the context of sunlight being bad for vampires, it didn’t sound like a good thing.
Soren nodded, stretched the tension from his shoulders and carried on, not allowing his obvious worry to interfere with his job. “Men, I’m damn tired of toying with fledglings. Please, I beg you, show me no mercy.” He smiled, his challenge thrown down.
The man with the narrow face and dark brown eyes gave a short laugh, acting completely unmoved by Soren’s plight. “How can we show you no mercy if we struggle to keep our feet beneath us from your blows?”
“Not interested, Flynn?” Soren asked, though it didn’t sound like a question. Maybe Flynn’s protests were a normal occurrence.
“I’ll take on our good trainer,” Nero said. “There are two females in my home driving me mad. I need the outlet.”
“Brilliant plan, Nero,” Flynn said, his kind eyes the only thing belying his rough exterior. “You wear him out, then Sampson and I might stand a chance.”
“Oh, no,” the larger man said, leaning against the wall. “I’m staying right here today. I’ll join in when I’m needed.”
“Sampson can hang back. I’ll take on both of you,” Soren directed, pulling off his shirt as he walked to the broadswords.
She covered her mouth, but the soft feminine gasp had somehow escaped. His shirt hadn’t hit the ground yet when he stopped and looked straight at her, a devilish smile curving his lips.
A shocking jolt went through her chest and landed in her stomach. For the first time, she saw his desire for her shining through his eyes. It absolutely thrilled her, and she didn’t understand why.
“Miss, could it be that our Soren is to your liking?” Flynn asked as he absently rubbed his nose.
Hoping to avoid the question, she ducked her head. She certainly did like him, and if they caught a glimpse of her warming cheeks, they’d have their answer.
“Of course she likes me, she followed me home,” Soren said lightly, sending her a quick wink, and tested the weight of the broadsword.
The men chuckled, and Faith covered her face, her hands cool against her heated skin. She couldn’t be more embarrassed. They must know Soren bit her, and as she was in their city, would know she lived with him. Any vampire would make that connection, but these three total strangers pointed out something she hadn’t fully admitted. She was attracted to Soren.
When she peeked at him through her fingers, he’d already turned to his men, leaving her the freedom to examine him more thoroughly. How could she not think of him in a purely carnal way as he strutted around like some modern, bare-chested barbarian? No woman alive could see those hard-earned muscles shifting beneath his skin and not conjure up a naughty fantasy or two.
The heavy clank of swords startled her, dissolving her daydreams. Nero and Flynn moved in immediately, an intimidating pair of predators. They targeted Soren. By the way they approached in unison, deflecting blows meant for their partner, these two men had worked together often.
The other classes consisted of lessons and direction, but these men practiced the unpredictability of battle. They had no problems using a sword or their heavily muscled bodies to gain the advantage.
Flynn was quick, his strikes sharp and precise. Soren avoided them, leaving himself open to Nero’s calculated assault. Flynn had a swift sword arm, and Nero, keen strategy. Though they impressed her, Soren possessed both skills and more. He had Flynn disarmed and on the ground in a handful of minutes. Not a big surprise.
His focus now turned full force on Nero. With Flynn taken out, the swordplay moved at a slower pace, and she had an easier time following the movements.
Nero shifted his tall body, either chasing Soren or forcing him to follow. Soren used caution, but when Nero suddenly changed direction, his blade grazed Soren’s arm.
“Soren!” she screamed as blood dripped down his arm. Nero turned to her, and Soren took advantage quickly, shoved him hard enough for him to lose his sword as he landed.
She watched helplessly as Sampson appeared from nowhere, stepped between Soren and Nero. She smacked her hands over her mouth, refusing to let another sound escape.
Sampson swung hard and connected with Soren’s sword, the heavy metallic ring filling the air. Soren’s blade hadn’t hit the ground yet when Sampson drove his body against him, sent him sliding across the floor on his back. Blood was now smeared down his arm.
Faith stood, already in motion, intent on reaching Soren. That is, until he laughed.
“It seems I can still teach you old dogs a thing or two. When fighting, ignore women or send them away. They’re a distraction, and could cost you your life,” Soren said as Flynn reached out and helped him to his feet.
“True.” Sampson gave him a broad smile. “But I’d still rather keep mine close.”
“That’s because she’s a pit bull. I’d rather fight you than her any day,” Flynn said.
“I’ll tell her you said so,” Sampson replied, walking away.
“I think he’s really going to tell her,” Flynn told Nero.
Nero shrugged. “I warned you about opening your mouth.”
Discussing Sampson’s wife and Flynn’s big mouth, the men exited the room. She’d been caught up in their battle and had completely forgotten it wasn’t real. Twice she’d embarrassed herself.
Making his way back to her, Soren snatched his shirt from the floor and pulled it on. A solid heat settled beside her on the bench, but she couldn’t look at him, not yet. Maybe if she kept him talking he would forget she’d been afraid for his life. “You’re training them to fight like those last three men. Why?”
Soren nodded. “A rare few of them will become Guardians. Guardians are what you might consider law enforcement.”
“Riiight. So if I break a law, one of these guys will come running at me with a sword?”
* * * *
“Pretty much.” Soren laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right.”
“You’ve got a long way to go with the first group. Good luck,” she said.
“Most don’t make it through the first class. Others train for years before I’ll consider recommending they become one of us. Our best Guardians were in the last group of men. Sampson is the lord’s personal Guardian. Nero and Flynn are Council Guardians, and Steffen is our Gatekeeper.”
“So they show up and knock you around?” Faith asked sweetly, smiling.
“They do, and enjoy it greatly.” He could
n’t believe how happy she seemed. Is this what life would be like with her? He’d do almost anything for a daily dose of her gentle teasing and playful smiles.
Yet Tarmon had frightened her. The relief on her face and clear appreciation of him when he’d come to her aid had been proof.
Soren stood, headed across the room with a purpose and opened a glass case that held a small arsenal of knives fixed on the far wall. He removed one, and returned to her side, spinning the blade slowly in his hand. The weapon was beautiful and deadly. Etched flowers covered the gold hilt, continuing their trail over the sharpened blade. He placed the knife in her hand, and she looked at him, eyes wide.
She tried giving it back, but he closed her fingers around the hilt. “It’s yours.”
“I don’t know how to use this. I’ll never be one of your warrior women.” She slapped the weapon against his chest, forcing him to catch it.
“Our women are not warriors, and I’m not asking that of you. I’m asking you to take it and be prepared to defend yourself.” He laid the hilt in her palm and wrapped his hand around hers.
“If something happens, you can save me,” she said, her voice quavering at first, then as she continued, she gained confidence. “You’re good at it. And really, if I learn to defend myself, you’d be out of a job. We can’t have that.”
He smiled briefly, but this was a serious matter, one she needed to understand. “I can’t always be by your side. Just because I’m the only one allowed to take from you, doesn’t mean others will respect the law. Since we haven’t had a human here in a long time, it’s possible someone will make the attempt. People break the law every day, which is why I continue to train Guardians.”
Turning the knife in her hand, she studied the craftsmanship. Or possibly contemplated her options. “This is important to you, isn’t it?” She glanced at him. “Training them, I mean. You act like you’re on a mission every time you pick up your sword.”
“I am. Many years ago, my father was shot and killed protecting Lord Navarre.” Soren stared at the wall across the room. He could still see it happening when he spoke of that day.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was a good man who served our lord and city well. Unfortunately, my father had to die for me to understand the importance of the Guardians. Around the time it happened, I’d been skipping my training sessions. After he was killed I worked harder than any other. When I became a Guardian, the first thing I did was change the way we had been taught to fight.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees.
“So you grew up,” she said softly.
“I didn’t have a choice. Nothing else was left for me.” Not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes, he focused on the floor.
It didn’t matter. If she hadn’t seen his sorrow, then she’d heard it in his voice. She settled a hand reassuringly on his forearm, an unfamiliar comfort, and one he didn’t know what to do with.
Her touch was a pleasant distraction. Now, instead of the memories clamoring to reach him, he thought only of her fingers wrapped around his wrist. He’d all but claimed her before his students, and after she’d admired his body in front of his Guardians, he’d practically burst with pride. This woman did strange things to his guarded emotions, had sent them all over the map in only two nights.
This whole situation was dangerous. She was dangerous.
He stood, and her hand fell away from him. “I need to check on Steffen.”
Hands at his sides, he fought the urge to reach out and take her hand. She was not his mate, not his partner and confidant in life. No one spoke about his father. Not he, certainly, and Navarre wouldn’t consider drudging up their painful past, but talking with her had come naturally.
He ducked out the door, and she hustled after him. Afraid of what else he might say, he kept his mouth shut tight. The farther away they journeyed from the training center, the more nervous she became. It was in the way she gripped the knife hilt, how her gaze darted here and there as the corridor darkened.
Gilded trim and colorful wall hangings gave way to bare, cold stone. The corridor became narrow and the light dim. Their path ended abruptly, a looming doorway their only option. The first step glowed a pale gray, but the rest disappeared into blackness. They needed to go one level lower to reach Steffen.
Before he hit the second step, Faith grabbed his elbow and tugged gently. The look in her widened eyes begged him to hear her. “Please don’t leave me. You’re going too fast.”
Soren took a deep breath. He’d already forgotten the home he’d grown up in might be foreign and frightening to her. He took her hand and pulled her close, helped her down the narrow, steep, and oddly curved stairway.
At the bottom, another hall appeared, just as bare and cold as the one they’d left. Stopping at the first battered old door, he knocked loudly. No reply came, and he opened the door and pulled Faith in behind him.
“Steffen?” he called into the darkened room.
The only answer was a man’s deep, shaky breathing.
“I’m turning on a light,” he warned before throwing a switch and casting a soft glow through the room.
Steffen sat on the floor, his back wedged in a corner, staring with bloodshot eyes at him through tangled hair hanging over the tip of his nose. He trembled, his hands clasped together as if they might hold his body together.
“It’s not as easy as you think.” Steffen’s voice, like his breath, sounded hollow.
“I know, Steffen,” he said, crouching near him.
“You don’t.” His friend’s shaky whisper filled the room and and he closed his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek. “I fight every night to see the next. I don’t know why.”
“You live to serve Navarre. You live to find your true mate. Don’t leave this world and doom her to your same fate, Steffen. Be strong for her.” He took hold of Steffen’s head, needing to gain his attention.
Steffen finally looked at him, and shook his head, tears rimming his eyes. “So close. I was so close to peace tonight.”
“I wish you’d stop working the gate, my friend. It’s too much of a temptation.”
Steffen’s eyes grew wide, fearful, and looked focused for the first time since they’d entered his home. “Take me from the gate and I truly have nothing.”
“All right. Calm down. You can keep your gate,” he said, soothing his fears. Steffen didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t help him. Steffen had to help himself first.
Soren stood, helping Steffen to his feet and guiding him toward his bed. When his friend’s head rested on the pillow at last, nothing changed. The tension hadn’t left his body, and he still clasped his hand as if it had become his only anchor.
“The sun is gone. It’s safe to sleep,” Soren said gently.
Faith hadn’t moved far from the doorway, and he couldn’t blame her for her curiosity. She would remember Steffen, his calm confidence, the teasing light in his eyes. It didn’t seem fair for her to see the same man now lying broken in his bed.
Steffen finally drifted to sleep, and he ushered Faith out the door, closed it.
“Will he be all right?” she asked, and her concern seemed genuine.
“I don’t know. He’s getting worse. He comes home each dawn, but one day he won’t return.”
“Why?”
“We live a long life, Faith,” he said, starting up the stairs. “Without a mate to share it with, or a purpose to drive us on, we can’t ignore the call of the sun.”
“Does the sun ever call to you?” Her question echoed off the walls of the stairway.
Soren paused, and for a moment, he thought he would answer her. Instead, he took her hand and kept climbing the stairs. How could he admit that he hadn’t fed for nearly a year because he couldn’t trust himself to face the temptation of the sun? She wouldn’t want to hear that since the momen
t he’d touched her, thoughts of the sun and the peace it promised had vanished.
Chapter 8
“Are you finished?” Soren asked through the bathroom door for the third time.
“Keep your shirt on. You’re how old? You should know what to expect from a woman by now.” Faith lifted the frothy peach gown, searching for a way in. “What is this, a prom dress?”
“A what?” he asked.
“A prom…” Vampires probably didn’t have a Senior Prom. “Never mind. Why is this dinner formal?”
“We dine with the lord of the city.”
“That’ll do it,” she agreed.
She stepped into the dress, tugged the zipper up her back then caught sight of herself in the mirror, and laughed. She thought she had it under control, but she laughed again.
“What’s so funny?” Soren asked, sounding closer to the door than he’d been a moment ago.
“If I had blond hair and a super skinny body, I’d look like Peaches and Cream Barbie.” She’d barely gotten the words out before she doubled over, giggling hard enough, tears gathered in her eyes.
“Who?”
“I can’t stop laughing.” Her words came out choppy, fit in between giggles. “Don’t be mad at me for not wearing this. I can’t do it. The dress is too ridiculous.”
Putting on that peach horror would make her both fit in and stand out, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Faith, we’re going to be late,” he said, farther from the door this time.
Probably she should tell him she could finish getting ready in literally ten minutes, but then, she liked the idea of him pacing and stewing. She pulled on black slacks and a gray sweater with a straight neckline from shoulder to shoulder. Twisting her hair, she pinned it, letting the ends fall loosely out the top.
She dug through the satin pockets of her suitcase for her jewelry, but instead fished out her cellphone. Holding her breath, she stared at the thing like it might bite her. She glanced at the door, then flipped the phone open. Nothing. No messages. No missed calls, and as she’d expected, no signal. She stuffed the thing into the pocket and grabbed her earrings.