Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set

by Multiple Authors

  “Hello? Still there? What, did I scare you? Afraid?”

  Marisol met Viola’s stare. She’d love to practice, but she doubted that was what Viola really wanted. Marisol suspected that if Viola got a chance, she’d kill her on the spot. “I’m not afraid to face you or anyone, but—”

  “Good. Pick your sword.” Viola inclined her head toward the rack where the swords were lined up.

  Marisol had never held any sword other than Youven’s. She wasn’t quite sure if she could wield another the way she did hers. She glanced at Callum, still sparring with his brothers. Callum said not to go near the weapon stand, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore Viola’s challenge. Callum would understand.

  Marisol walked toward the rack. Eenie meenie minie mo. Lordy, give me a sign I’ll know. In the end, she picked the one with a yellowish handle. Its blade was so shiny she could see her reflection in it. The sword was light and nimble. Designed for stabbing and faster strokes. She liked this one. The moment she lifted the sword, the crowd’s loud cheering died down and turned into a murmur.

  “Good choice. Now let’s see what you can do with it.”

  “We shall see.” Why hadn’t she just stayed in Callum’s apartment and watched cartoons?

  ***

  Callum noticed the moment the mood changed in the arena. Through his peripheral view, he tried to spot a pink tank top. He didn’t see it. Marisol wasn’t where she should be. He blocked Ty’s blow and took a step back, buying more time to find Marisol among the crowd. He spotted her standing by the rack, holding a sword. What the hell? He made his way toward her. Zambro tried to stop him with repeated blows.

  Callum pivoted to avoid the tip of Zambro’s sword then walked away from the fight. Didn’t Marisol hear what he said? Once she pulled a weapon out of its rack that meant she’d fight. God damn it! What was she doing holding a sword? He met Viola’s gaze. Finally, he understood.

  Fuck.

  Zambro delivered another blow. His blade came close to slicing Callum’s neck.

  “Stop.”

  “What’s going on?” Zambro lowered his sword and fell into step, walking fast beside him.

  “Marisol’s going to practice with Viola is what it looks like. She can’t do this. I have to stop her.” He quickly sent Marisol a message through telepathy.

  “Put the damn sword back, Mari.”

  Marisol met his gaze. “I’ve accepted Viola’s challenge.”

  “Just put the sword down, Mari.” Damn it. She blocked him off. Quickly, she focused her attention on the sword in her hand.

  “Bro, maybe she wants to prove she’s worth your blood.” Ty, who flanked him on the other side, shoved him playfully.

  “She doesn’t have to prove herself to me or anyone. She’s not like us. If Viola kills Marisol, she’ll stay dead—forever.”

  “Do you think Viola would do that?”

  “What do you think?” Shrugging off Zambro’s arm, he ran to get Marisol before she stepped beyond the white line on the floor. “Marisol!” he yelled.

  Viola and Marisol turned to look at him. While Marisol looked glum, Viola’s grin reached her ears. His ex-fiancée blew him a kiss and then took her place on the practice floor.

  “Callum, let her fight. Prove that she deserves to keep the sword.”

  Callum didn’t know who it was that said that, but he wanted to punch the son of a bitch.

  “Yeah, man! If she’s really Youven’s descendant, let her prove it!”

  “Come on! Fight!”

  “Fight! Fight!” the crowd chanted.

  When Callum reached Marisol’s side, he saw that her eyes were big with fear. He could see her knuckles had gone white from gripping the sword she picked. “Baby, give me the sword. Let’s go.”

  His heart sank. Marisol shook her head and took a step back. “If I leave, you’ll end up carrying my shame, Callum. I want your clan to respect me. I’ll make Youven’s family proud. I’ll make you and your brothers proud.”

  “No. Baby, this isn’t a game. You saw how we practiced. We try to make contact, to incapacitate the opponent. It’s because we’ll heal. She has five lives. You have only one.”

  “And you have only one, Callum. Were you planning on going back up to fight Atos for me?”

  “We’ll talk. Come on. Let’s go.”

  “I’m not leaving. You need practice. Well, I do, too.”

  “I’ll practice with you. But I won’t let you fight Viola.”

  “And let your fiancée laugh at me? No.” She kicked off white tennis shoes with blue shoelaces then bent down to remove her ankle high socks.

  Damn. She’s going to fight barefoot. Is she out of her mind? She needs armor as it is.

  Marisol turned her back on him. He tried to stop her, but once again Zambro grabbed his arm.

  “Let her, bro. We’ll stop them when it’s time. She’s right. Earning the clan’s respect on her own is better than earning it through me.”

  As soon as Marisol started walking toward Viola, everything stopped. The crowd quieted once again. Callum fisted his hands. Damn it, baby. You better not get hurt.

  Viola wearing tight black leather shorts, red halter leather top emphasizing her size D breasts, and black knee-high boots emphasizing her long legs, could make any man drool. She looked as lithe as a leopard. While his baby wore faded hip huggers and a pink tank top showing the flatness of her stomach—the one that he liked to lick until she squealed—she looked simple, sensual, and beautiful. Damn, he loved her so much it hurt.

  The women stood facing each other. Marisol held the sword at her side, its tip pointing down, while Viola held the sword in front of her. He’d seen Viola practice many times. She nearly maimed a soldier once, and almost killed all the Midnight Howl stupid enough to spar with her. Viola was one of the best female fighters of the clan. And she knew it, too. Even male sentinels feared her. Marisol, on the other hand, had her first kill only days ago and he wasn’t sure how strong she was, how long she could stand before she got tired.

  Viola began circling Marisol, who remained on her spot with her feet shoulder-width apart.

  “Teach the woman a lesson, Viola! Her kind killed my husband.”

  “Make her bleed!”

  “Come on, Marisol. You can beat her.”

  Callum recognized Endy’s voice. At least Marisol had a fan in the crowd.

  Viola attacked, striking downward with the obvious intent of cutting Marisol in half. However, Marisol launched a preemptive strike. She was quick on her feet and parried, the sword close to her. Her foot placement kept her balance. Mark had taught her well.

  Marisol engaged with care, which Callum was happy to see. She was able to maintain control and stayed focused. She used her best defense of sidestepping whenever Viola was on the attack, not allowing an opening for the winning blow.

  Callum watched Marisol change her hold on her sword. The sword’s position ran from the bottom of her torso to the top of her head, suitable for any skill level. Marisol used the middle position to respond to Viola’s attack with reasonable speed. When she began to strike, Callum felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His baby would be okay.

  The sound of clashing metal echoed in the arena. Grunts and screams from the crowd added to the noise. Marisol’s tank top turned dark pink from sweat. Her hair became undone and clung to her wet shoulders and forehead. She didn’t show any sign of tiredness. Marisol extended her sword a comfortable distance away from her body, with the tip toward Viola’s throat.

  Ah, so Marisol knows how to taunt, to put her opponent on point.

  The action might intimidate an inexperienced fighter, not Viola. Callum saw Viola’s mouth tighten before she began an offensive attack. Unsettled, Marisol parried.

  When the two swords locked together, Viola surprised Marisol with a punch on the face. The crowd cheered. Callum took a step forward, but Zambro’s arm blocked him from going any farther.

  “Not yet, Callum. She’s doing gre
at.”

  Blood trickled down the side of Marisol’s mouth. She didn’t release her hold on the sword. She kept her stance.

  Viola leered and then released another blow. Marisol avoided the hit, but not fast enough. Blood quickly painted her right arm.

  Roaring shouts of approval and thunderous clapping shook the floor.

  “Come on, baby. You can do this,” Callum whispered. He didn’t dare send Marisol a message through telepathy. It would distract her.

  “You talk to yourself now, too, Callum?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Blood dripped from Marisol’s elbow. If she made a mistake and stepped on the sticky red fluid, she’d lose her balance and Viola could win.

  Callum’s body felt like a tightly wound string. He wanted to end the fucking practice.

  “We need to stop the fight right now, Zambro.”

  “And Marisol will hate you if you do. She has it in her to win, Callum. Even if she loses, she’ll walk out of here with her head held high. Finishing a fight is a win in itself, brother.”

  Zambro was right. He’d witnessed Marisol’s stubbornness. That personality would fuel her to keep fighting.

  Marisol lessened her blocks. She was avoiding Viola’s brute force. She stepped out of line of Viola’s attack then pushed the sword off to the side, giving Marisol an opening for an offensive move.

  Take advantage, baby.

  ***

  “Drop your sword before I start playing tic tac toe on your skin.”

  Marisol gritted her teeth. Her cut hurt so bad she wanted to cry. But she’d never give Viola the satisfaction of seeing her as weak. She was not a liability, baggage, a problem or a mistake. She’d show this shape-shifter that Callum didn’t make a mistake by helping her. She could defend herself if necessary. Her father didn’t spend years training her so she could quit at the mere sight of a small cut.

  “FYI, Viola. Surrender is the word I don’t believe in.” She smiled, mustering calmness, confidence, and poise. Viola had cut her, but the three deciding factors to win a fight remained deep inside her. Of course, she was a bit nervous and frightened. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? But just as Callum had said, those weren’t signs of weakness. He was right. Those emotions helped her strategy become more effective and perhaps to believe in herself.

  Feeling a surge of energy, she went for an offensive attack, thrusting her sword as if she were born doing it. Viola didn’t have a choice but to block her and take quick steps back.

  Her smile widened. Cool warriors tended to make others wary, or even unsettled. Viola looked like one.

  Marisol swung the sword, slicing the air. The sound was barely a whisper in contrast to the gasp Viola made when Marisol’s sword made contact with her upper chest, slicing the leather halter top.

  The sight of blood didn’t deter Marisol from slowing her attack. Heart banging like crazy against her chest, she took advantage of Viola’s momentary shock and thrust. This time she stabbed Viola’s sword arm. Viola’s arm went limp and she dropped her sword.

  Marisol felt more aggressive now. Even after Viola’s sword clanged on the floor, she attacked. She made a slicing motion meant to cut Viola’s throat, but she stopped right when the blade touched the woman’s skin. A drop of blood trickled on Viola’s neck.

  The crowd cheered, whistled, and then they began chanting her name.

  “You lose,” Marisol whispered.

  Anger flashed in Viola’s eyes. “This time. Next time we meet, your head will roll on the ground.”

  “And I’m sure you won’t stop until that happens?”

  “Got that right, bitch. If you want me to spare you, leave Callum alone. He’s mine. Anyone who tries to steal him away from me will regret the day she was born.”

  “I didn’t steal him away from you, Viola. You lost him a long time ago. You had your chance, but you blew it. Accept it. “ Because you cheated on him, she would have added, but she was tired. And catty remarks would only take her as far as she could spit. “Besides that, Callum isn’t mine, Viola. He promised my dad to keep me safe, not to keep me. Big difference.”

  Viola gave her a hostile glare. “We are not over, human.”

  Great. Another enemy she had to watch out for from now on. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

  Viola left without picking up the sword she’d dropped on the floor.

  It was over. Loud whistling and applause brought her attention back to the crowd. It was incredible that she didn’t hear them at all while she was fighting with Viola. The smiles on their faces, though, were what surprised her most. What, do they like me now? She hoped so. For Callum’s sake. She wiped the blood off her mouth with the tips of her fingers. Owwie.

  Her adrenaline quickly leaving her system, Marisol felt tired and achy. Her mouth throbbed and her wound hurt so badly she couldn’t seem to move. Suddenly, the sword weighed like a ton. This must be how it felt like after fighting a lion or a bear. God, she’d spent so much of her energy in that fight, it was surprising she could still stand.

  She pointed the tip of the sword to the floor and watched the blood from her arm travel the length of it and down the floor. Marisol focused her gaze where the blood pooled.

  Warm hands cupped her face and lifted her head up. “Callum.”

  Callum’s eyes were hard and piercing. Lordy. He was mad.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see—”

  Before Marisol could finish her sentence, Callum gave her a quick, gentle kiss. “Is it so hard to listen to me?” he asked, his voice sounding as though he was in pain.

  “No, but your girlfriend challenged me. I couldn’t just—oww!” Pain shot up her shoulder when she tried to lift her arm.

  “I’m sorry, love. You got hit. Hang on.” He wrapped his shirt on her wound. “You’ve got a fat lip.”

  Marisol touched her upper lip with her tongue. “And sore.” She groaned as Callum tightened the shirt around her arm.

  “You okay?”

  “I am now. Can you take me home now?”

  Callum responded with another feather kiss. Marisol dropped her sword and gave her weight into him. If each time she practiced she’d get a kiss like this, heck, she wouldn’t mind coming here.

  “Baby, right now my apartment’s your home.”

  “I know.”

  “We need to take care of your arm and we need to talk.”

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “Mad, no. Afraid, yes. You put me through hell by fighting Viola. She’s a seasoned fighter and she knows how to protect her head and heart. Her cuts will heal in no time. While you…you need stitches.”

  “I beat her.”

  “Yes, you did. I’m so proud of you. Could you make me proud without shortening my lifespan? I wouldn’t be surprised if I look in the mirror and see my hair’s turned gray.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Kiss me again and I’ll forgive you.”

  Marisol smiled, wrapped her fingers at the back of Callum’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss that promised something wonderful to come.

  Leaving her mouth wet and hungry for more, Callum pressed his lips on her forehead, hugged her tight and whispered, “You give me purpose in life, love. I’d be lost without you. Don’t you dare disobey me again.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Marisol, promise you’ll listen to me.”

  “Callum, I’ll listen if I know you’re safe. I’ll not stay put if I know you’re in trouble or need my help. I’m not a woman who waits for her man to come back whole.”

  “Promise me, Marisol, or I swear I’ll lock you up in the apartment.”

  “I swear.”

  ***

  Callum stared at Marisol’s big green eyes. She batted her lashes, an action that made him smile. What a minx. Of course, she wouldn’t listen to him even if her life were on the line. She’d already proved it twice. He took her hand in his. “Let’s go before I forget
that we’re not in the bedroom.”

  “Bro,” Zambro called. “May I have a word with you?”

  “Can you wait? Marisol needs to see Doctor Yousney.”

  “I know. That’s why I asked for him. He can take Marisol to the clinic. That is if you don’t mind, Marisol.”

  “No. I don’t mind at all. I’ll see you later, Callum.”

  Callum held Marisol’s hand tighter, unwilling to let her go. He wanted to spend every minute and second of the day with her. God, in a short time, he’d become so obsessed with her that he’d turned into a selfish dog. Kissing her temple, he released her hand. “I’ll see you at the clinic.”

  “I can take her back to your apartment, Callum.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “You’re welcome. All right, we need this young lady fixed. I want her to help in the clinic again.”

  Callum nodded. With Marisol and Doctor Yousney gone, Callum faced Zambro. “What’s up?”

  “Atos accepted your challenge. He wants to avenge his brother. The son of a bitch practically squealed when he heard your proposal.”

  “Did he agree to our terms?”

  “He did. He won’t kill the innocents, but his clan will continue to feed from the whores, drunks, rapists, et cetera. The fuckers are addicted to human blood, like vampires.”

  “Will he leave Marisol alone if I win?”

  “Yes.”

  Callum’s shoulder dropped a bit.

  “Good.”

  “One week and we’ll face him and his bastard followers. I warn you though, Atos is bloodthirsty.”

  “I know, and he wants Marisol’s blood.”

  “He will not see nor taste a drop of her blood.”

  “No. Have you told the others?”

  “Yes. Our brothers didn’t approve of your decision, but we’re all in this together, brother. We have your back.”

  “I owe you one, bro.”

  “Callum.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, brother.”

  Surprised at his brother’s words, Callum wasn’t able to say anything. He simply nodded his head.