All I Want For Christmas Is My Mating Stone

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All I Want For Christmas Is My Mating Stone Page 3

by Brenda Trim


  “You think we want money?” sneered one of the skirm as he bared his fangs. The fe­male screamed when her gaze landed on pointed teeth.

  Kyran flashed to­ward the scene. In the next blink, he was stand­ing be­tween the skirm and hu­mans. When su­per­nat­u­rals tran­si­tioned from stripling to adult, their abil­i­ties en­hanced, and some gained ex­tra pow­ers. Kyran pos­sessed the abil­ity to flash, which meant he could travel dis­tances at the speed of light. It was a handy power to have dur­ing in­stances like this one.

  “Get back,” Kyran yelled over his shoul­der to­ward the cou­ple who quickly scram­bled be­hind the dump­ster.

  “Hey, he’s one of the Dark War­riors,” a black-haired skirm mut­tered to his bud­dies.

  Over the years, they dis­cov­ered skirm had in­frared vi­sion, and could de­tect a Dark War­rior be­cause of their warmer body tem­per­a­ture. It made sur­prise at­tacks al­most im­pos­si­ble. You’d think skirm would stick around to ful­fill their mis­sion of de­stroy­ing the Dark War­riors, but too of­ten they ran away be­fore the war­riors could get close to them. Luck­ily, the skirm were oc­cu­pied with the hu­mans when he and Mack dis­cov­ered them, which gave Kyran an ad­van­tage.

  “You bet your arse I am. And, I’m about to ash you moth­er­fuck­ers,” he growled as he bran­dished his sgian dubh and stalked to­ward his tar­get. He couldn’t wait un­til his blade sank through flesh and bone, trig­ger­ing the skirm’s ul­ti­mate demise. Only ti­ta­nium killed a skirm in a flash of ash. If he had his clay­more he could chop heads off, but that left messy clean-up.

  “No, Kyran!” Mack shouted as she ran to his side. “They may have the in­for­ma­tion we need,” she ex­plained as she grabbed his arm, stop­ping his move­ment.

  That was a first, he thought. Mack was more of a kill first, ask ques­tions later. But she had a point. If the skirm knew any­thing about the miss­ing stones, they needed to find out what it was. Skirm weren’t the smartest crea­tures and were eas­ily tricked into re­veal­ing what they knew.

  “What in­for­ma­tion? Per­haps, we can strike a deal,” bartered a skinny male. He looked like he was thir­teen, at most, and Kyran won­dered if the archde­mon had started go­ing af­ter younger vic­tims.

  “Do you know who I am?” Kyran growled low as he tight­ened his grip on the knife han­dle.

  “Uh, yeah. You’re a Dark War­rior, duh. I said that al­ready,” the black-haired skirm an­swered with a roll of his eyes.

  “Nay. Do you know my name?”

  “There’s a bunch of you war­riors. I don’t know. Happy? Sleepy? Or, bet­ter yet, Dopey?” in­ter­jected the third skirm with a laugh.

  Kyran lunged and stabbed his blade into the chest of the skirm. A bright flash of fire was fol­lowed by the crea­ture turn­ing to ash be­fore his re­mains drifted to­ward the sky. Kyran placed his blade at the throat of Skinny and stepped closer to the young male. “Do I look like a fuck­ing dwarf to you?” he spat as his six-four frame tow­ered over the male.

  Mack drew her blade and squared off against the dark-haired skirm. “Don’t even think of run­ning. I’ll gut you be­fore you take two steps,” she threat­ened. Kyran met her gaze and winked. There was his feisty fe­male.

  His inat­ten­tion cost him. Skinny ducked and thrust a blade into Kyran’s gut. Oh, it was on now, Kyran thought as he darted to the left be­fore hit­ting Skinny up­side the head.

  Move­ment next to him told him Mack was sub­du­ing her skirm. When she grunted, he grabbed Skinny’s knife and tossed it into a trash­can then used his fore­arm against Skinny’s throat to keep him from at­tack­ing again. By the time Kyran checked on Mack, she had her skirm un­der con­trol.

  His fo­cus re­turned to Skinny, and Kyran raised his brow in ques­tion. The male’s eyes widened to saucers, and he gulped. “N-n-n-no, sir. You don’t look like a dwarf,” he croaked.

  “Good. Lis­ten verra closely. Do you know what a mat­ing stone is?” Kyran mut­tered as his blade trav­eled from the skirm’s chest to the cor­ner of his eye.

  “Huh? M-m-mat­ing stone?” Skinny asked then his gaze slowly shifted to his buddy. “Do you know what he’s talk­ing about, Randy?”

  “No, can’t say that I do. But, I have a bet­ter ques­tion, war­rior. You ever heard of an am­bush?” Randy coun­tered with a leer.

  Sud­denly, a group of skirm bolted from the shad­ows, and charged to­ward Kyran and Mack. Kyran quickly ashed Skinny, and Mack’s blade found pur­pose in Randy’s chest.

  The hu­man fe­male let out a scream as a bat­tle en­sued. There were at least a dozen skirm, each hold­ing a weapon. Kyran tried to make his way closer to Mack, but three crea­tures blocked his path.

  Charg­ing for­ward, he grabbed an­other sgian dubh and sliced one blade across the face of a new skirm while his leg shot out and kicked an­other. The crea­ture went sail­ing through the air and crashed against the wall.

  Kyran headed to­ward the downed skirm but a third skirm jumped on his back. When an arm wound around his throat, Kyran reached back and tried to get a hold of the fucker’s hair. He kept out of Kyran’s reach. Tired of the game, Kyran stabbed his weapon through the skull of a skirm. The edge of his beard caught fire when it ashed. Lift­ing a hand, he pat­ted the scruff on his face. An­other skirm ap­proached and Kyran acted in an in­stant, stab­bing an­other. The last thing Kyran saw of the crea­ture was his bloody face be­fore fire flashed and the male’s body turned to dust.

  A ball of fire sud­denly flew past Kyran’s head, and he turned to see Bres­lin and Bhric had joined the fight. His sib­lings were a force to be reck­oned with as their pow­ers took front and cen­ter. Bres­lin’s fire shot out in ev­ery di­rec­tion, burn­ing her en­emy on the spot while Bhric threw shards of ice, pierc­ing the skirms’ chests. It was a beau­ti­ful sight, and Kyran thanked the God­dess they were on his team.

  He scanned the scene, search­ing for Mack. She was fight­ing off two larger skirm, and they had her cor­nered near the hu­mans. Kyran’s heart stopped when he watched her swing her blade but miss the skirm’s chest. Her knife sliced through its jacket but didn’t seem to in­jure the crea­ture. Mack swung again and missed the skirm al­to­gether.

  She never missed, Kyran ac­knowl­edged and knew he had to get to her be­fore it was too late. Her mis­take was costly, and the male snatched her blade, and tossed it to the ground then pinned her against the wall. Be­fore Kyran could flash to her, the other skirm bit Mack’s neck.

  Two things hap­pened at once. Mack screamed out in pain, and Kyran flashed to her side as his fury erupted. No one fuck­ing touched his mate. Drop­ping his blades at his feet, he was ready to rip the ass­hole’s head from his shoul­ders. These moth­er­fuck­ers didn’t de­serve a sim­ple death like ash­ing. No, they would suf­fer a much more painful demise.

  He snatched the skirm that was feed­ing on Mack and squeezed its throat. He rel­ished the fear he saw in the male’s eyes as his air sup­ply dis­si­pated. The skirm’s face red­dened then turned blue as Kyran tight­ened his grip.

  Kyran turned his body and kicked a skirm that was try­ing to sneak past him and get to Mack. A blade landed in his thigh, mak­ing him grunt. For a sec­ond, he wished he had Rhys’s tele­ki­netic abil­ity to call weapons to his hands.

  He stared into the crea­ture’s eyes and twisted his wrist, rel­ish­ing the snap of its neck. Hiss­ing, Kyran tossed the crea­ture to the ground then grabbed an­other male and lifted him into the air. He body-slammed the skirm onto the con­crete, and the sound of bones snap­ping echoed in Kyran’s ears. But he wasn’t done. Kyran pro­ceeded to beat the ever-lov­ing shit out of the male un­til its heart stopped beat­ing.

  When Kyran was cer­tain the skirm was dead, he rushed to­ward Mack. She was hold­ing her neck and cough­ing up blood. “Shite! Let me take a look,” he or­dered and moved her hand so he could in­spect the wound. “‘Tis verra deep. We need to get
you back to Zeum be­fore the venom takes ef­fect,” he in­formed her then quickly scanned the area, look­ing for Bres­lin and Bhric.

  His brother and sis­ter had killed the re­main­ing skirm and were ash­ing the dead car­casses. Thank the God­dess for the easy clean-up. They didn’t have time to linger. “Och, can you two take care of them?” Kyran shouted with a tilt of his head to­ward the hu­mans who were still cow­er­ing be­hind the dump­ster. “Mack needs an in­jec­tion asap,” he ex­plained.

  “Aye, we got this,” Bhric replied with a wave of his hand as he helped the hu­mans to their feet.

  It was im­per­a­tive they wipe the hu­mans’ mem­o­ries of the night. The ex­is­tence of su­per­nat­u­rals had to re­main hid­den from hu­mans per the God­dess’s edict. Ad­di­tion­ally, the Dark War­riors were re­spon­si­ble for keep­ing all hu­mans and su­per­nat­u­rals safe from the demons that plagued their world.

  “Come on, lass. I’m tak­ing you home,” he mur­mured as he turned to Mack. He placed a kiss on her fore­head then bent to pick her up.

  “You know, you didn’t have to pro­tect me from those ass­holes. I would’ve beat them even­tu­ally,” Mack mut­tered but he could tell she was em­bar­rassed by her mis­takes dur­ing the fight.

  “I doona pro­tect you be­cause I think you’re weak. I pro­tect you be­cause you’re my world,” he con­fessed, and kissed her gen­tly on the lips.

  “You’re quite the charmer, leech,” Mack teased then nuz­zled against his chest. She didn’t have to say more than that. He could feel her love and ap­pre­ci­a­tion through their mat­ing bond.

  With­out warn­ing, Zan­der’s voice blasted into his mind. Get home! Right fuck­ing now! We have an emer­gency!

  Kyran stum­bled from the force of Zan­der’s com­mand, and al­most dropped Mack. His brother was king and be­cause he held the man­tle of power he could com­mu­ni­cate tele­path­i­cally with the Dark War­riors. Kyran wasn’t sure what hap­pened but knew it must be se­ri­ous. He glanced to his sib­lings, and they nod­ded. They re­ceived his mes­sage, as well.

  “We’re right be­hind you,” Bhric in­formed him then turned back to the hu­mans. Luck­ily, it took only min­utes to erase their mem­o­ries.

  “Kyran, I’m scared,” Mack ad­mit­ted, and her gaze met his.

  “Why?”

  “I know why I fucked up dur­ing the fight,” she ex­plained with a shake of her head.

  “What are you talk­ing aboot?”

  “It’s be­cause of my mat­ing stone. The God­dess said it pro­tects my sword arm. That my aim would al­ways be true. But now, the stone is gone. What if we don’t find it?” she croaked. Her body trem­bled in his arms, giv­ing Kyran the full ef­fect of her ter­ror.

  “That’s no’ what hap­pened. You were pre­oc­cu­pied, that’s all,” he re­as­sured his mate, but he could see his words fell on deaf ears. Mack was con­vinced the Mys­tik Gri­moire was prophetic, and the stones held sig­nif­i­cant power.

  Un­for­tu­nately, Kyran be­lieved it, too.

  4

  Mack grit­ted against the pain as Kyran lifted her out of his SUV and car­ried her to­ward Zeum. She pressed her scarf against the in­jury, try­ing to stop the blood, and cursed her in­ep­ti­tude dur­ing the fight. It had been years since she was bit­ten by those nasty fuck­ers.

  It seemed like a life­time ago when she founded SOVA (Sur­vivors of Vam­pire At­tacks) and hunted what she be­lieved were vam­pires. Then she met Kyran and the oth­ers at Zeum. That’s when Mack dis­cov­ered the vi­o­lent crea­ture that at­tacked her and left her body rid­dled with scars was, in fact, a skirm. Since then, her path had been paved with the ashes of her true en­emy. Un­til tonight, that was. How the hell had she let the crea­ture get the best of her?

  Oh, who was she kid­ding? She knew the an­swer. Mack was be­ing pun­ished for not tak­ing bet­ter care of her mat­ing stone. Why had she kept it in a drawer with her socks and un­der­wear in­stead of a locked safe? Her mat­ing stone was the most valu­able item she owned, for fuck’s sake. If she ever got it back, Mack vowed to store it in a se­cret vault, and no one, ex­cept her and Kyran, would know its lo­ca­tion.

  Kyran hur­ried through the en­closed pa­tio and en­tered the large kitchen. “Zan­der!” he called out just as Nate walked around the cor­ner. “Where’s my brathair?” Kyran barked.

  Sud­denly, Zan­der’s deep voice echoed through­out the house. “Hurry up, Nate!”

  Nate scram­bled to the cab­i­nets and grabbed a hot wa­ter bot­tle. “He’s up­stairs with Elsie. She’s been in pain for the past cou­ple of hours, but it’s get­ting worse. Jace should be here any min––. What hap­pened to you?” the dragon shifter asked as he turned around, and his gaze landed on Mack.

  “I got bit by a fuck­ing skirm,” Mack grunted as Kyran set her on her feet. “Don’t worry about me though. Take that to Elsie and we’ll be right there,” she in­structed Nate as she headed to­ward the med­i­cal room lo­cated in the base­ment.

  Kyran held her arm as she hob­bled down the nar­row stair­way. When they walked into the med­i­cal room, Mack spot­ted Tori rum­mag­ing through a cab­i­net on the wall that con­tained pre­scrip­tion med­i­ca­tions. If the gri­mace on Tori’s face was any in­di­ca­tion, Mack guessed she was search­ing for pain killers. But why?

  “You okay, Tor?” Mack asked as she walked to the re­frig­er­a­tor where the serum to coun­ter­act skirm venom was stored.

  “Not re­ally. My wing has been both­er­ing me for sev­eral weeks. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but the pain has be­come un­bear­able. When Jace read from the gri­moire, I re­al­ized what was hap­pen­ing. My mat­ing stone pro­tected my wing,” Tori ex­plained as she opened a bot­tle and popped a small pill into her mouth.

  “So, I’m not crazy to think there’s more to the miss­ing stones. It’s why all this freaky shit is hap­pen­ing,” Mack di­vulged as Kyran grabbed a bot­tle of an­ti­sep­tic, along with, a cot­ton swab.

  “No, you’re not crazy,” Tori an­swered and placed the pills back into the cab­i­net. At least she wasn’t tak­ing the bot­tle with her, Mack thought. Ad­dic­tion to pain pills wasn’t what she wanted to see hap­pen to her friend.

  Mack glanced at Tori’s black wings tucked against her back, and re­called when the vile sor­cer­ess, Lady An­gel­ica, sev­ered the Valkyrie’s wing and arm. They all thought Tori wouldn’t sur­vive the at­tack, but Jace reat­tached both. Un­for­tu­nately, both were for­ever de­formed, and Tori’s wing re­mained a sharp, con­stant pain af­ter the surgery.

  Dur­ing Tori’s mat­ing cer­e­mony to San­ti­ago, the God­dess let Tori choose what her mat­ing stone would pro­tect. Her arm or her wing. Mack was shocked when Tori chose her wing be­cause paint­ing was the fe­male’s pas­sion. She later told Mack her rea­son­ing. Tori said she could try to paint with her other hand but couldn’t en­dure the ex­cru­ci­at­ing agony she suf­fered daily from her in­jured wing.

  “You ready for this, Fire­cracker?” Kyran’s voice in­truded as he re­moved the scarf around her neck. He swabbed an­ti­sep­tic on the area where she was bit, then filled a sy­ringe with the serum. “It’s go­ing to burn like a moth­er­fucker,” he added.

  “Do it,” Mack or­dered and bit her knuck­les as he in­jected the thick liq­uid into a vein at her neck. Mack closed her eyes and hissed as the cold sen­sa­tion quickly mor­phed into what felt like fire rush­ing through her sys­tem. It was worth it though. She car­ried enough scars on her body from skirm. At least now with the serum she wouldn’t be adding to her col­lec­tion.

  “One, two, three,” Mack grunted, need­ing to fo­cus on any­thing but the burn. She was grate­ful when she stopped at the num­ber eleven as the pain sub­sided.

  A palm landed on her shoul­der, and Mack opened her eyes to see Kyran star­ing at her. She couldn’t help but laugh at his wor­ried
ex­pres­sion. In­side that tough ex­te­rior, he was noth­ing but a cream puff. Well, with her, any­way.

  “What’s that goofy look, leech?” she kid­ded with a smile.

  “I’m just mak­ing sure the serum doesna have bad side ef­fects. Last thing I need is for you to sprout a sec­ond head. You’re scary enough as it is,” he coun­tered with a smirk.

  Mack punched his stom­ach, and Kyran bent at the waist and groaned. “You’d still love me even if I had ten heads,” she de­clared.

  “Aye. And, just think of all the dirty things you could do with ten mouths,” Kyran replied sug­ges­tively as he wag­gled his eye­brows.

  “Ha! More like ten f-bombs drop­ping si­mul­ta­ne­ously,” Tori in­ter­jected, and they all laughed. It was no se­cret that Mack cursed like a sailor.

  “Guilty as charged,” Mack con­fessed as Kyran ban­daged her neck. “Let’s go check on Elsie,” she added.

  “Aye,” Kyran agreed and twined their hands as they left the med­i­cal room.

  Kyran heard Elsie’s groans be­fore they en­tered the suite of rooms. It seemed the saga of the miss­ing mat­ing stones would never end. What wor­ried him most was the un­known. To what ex­treme would they suf­fer?

  They en­tered the crowded liv­ing room, and he noted most of the in­hab­i­tants at Zeum were there. He scanned the room and his gaze snagged on Bhric. “Ev­ery­thing go okay with the hu­mans?”

  “Aye. We got back aboot ten min­utes ago. You good, Mack?” Bhric asked as his mate, Alex, handed him a wa­ter bot­tle.

  Kyran re­mem­bered when Bhric’s choice of poi­son was straight bour­bon. The whole fuck­ing bot­tle. Now, his brother didn’t touch the stuff since he suf­fered a blade to the skull, re­sult­ing in tem­po­rary mem­ory loss, and a change in his taste buds. The hard stuff made Bhric want to puke now. Thank the God­dess Alex was on staff when Bhric was taken to the hos­pi­tal, or no telling what might’ve hap­pened to his brother.

 

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