Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra) (15 page)

I can't speak. He has parched my mouth and I can't even swallow. I am a living moment of pure breath and desire, and nothing else.

“You forget, I can hear every single thing you think. Your thoughts aren't private around me.”

I don't care. You are so beautiful it makes me want to cry.

Tears pin my eyes and prickle across my face.

The tender touch of his thumb runs softly over my cheek. It's a blessing, a balm, sanctifying.

“No more tears. You've filled lake Zena, now it's time for joy,” he says with a dreamy smile.

Ferrous pollen mists out of his eyes and I'm spellbound by the twinkles of light reaching out to sink their glow into my skin.

It's like being injected with a strong opiate. Immediately my eyelids become weighted and I wilt closer to his muscular body poised before me. It's hallucinogenic when that sculpted strength closes around me, allowing me to be weak, to worship, to succumb to the invasion of satin lips pressing mine open to accept his velvet tongue.

Liquified, I am barely lucid, except for the torture of the need obliterating my consciousness. Lifted, hot breath burrows into my neck when he moves to kiss my pulse.

I have never been so desperate, or vulnerable, as I am with him. Strength surges back to my bones and I grip tightly to lock my arms around his neck, weeping with the soul transfusion of his light to mine.

Plyx to plyx, the rainbow sphere enclosing around us vibrates with a tremor of heavenly sound.

“Don't you want coffee?”

Cradled in his arms, I'm so close that his voice flows through me. That incredible voice which is so like the secretive whisper of a bamboo wind chime when it's brushed with a prayer bowl.

“I want you.”

You!

Chapter 17

Sveta:

It's with a heavy heart that I drive away from her house. She has no clue why I'm leaving her when everything is perfect.

For the first time in all our months together there's no tension, no backbiting, no shit. Today is my date with destiny, fast forwarded just for her, but the timing sucks.

This morning her eyes were so weighted with desire and peace, god damn she fucks me up and I can't think straight. It was so hard to let go, to force reality harshly between us, but what fucking choice do I have.

I asked her to meet me at Pravus later and made an excuse about needing to see Zauran and Aisyx to talk work. When in truth I'm going to Zauran's to have my ass kicked so I can become an alpha to heal her mind. I've done all I can for her heart and soul, and with Arsay's help - her spirit.

This is the final hurdle.

If she only knew how much I meant it when I said I would do anything for her. This definitely qualifies as
anything
.

Anything that will fuck me up stupid just because I love her, and would turn the planet inside out to heal her and change the darklight back into a pure slakax star.

She will always have darklight abilities, and be able to see into the beyond because of the suffering she's endured. Only those who have suffered immeasurable trauma get to see the afterlife while still living.

That's how she knew the demons weren't here to hurt her. That's why she trusts them. Demons, they're a complicated bunch with many roles, and as usual humans got that label truly fucked up.

Shaking off the internal monologue, I focus on the road and idiot drivers who conveniently have a blind spot for bikers. Usually it's just a three minute zoot down the drag from my spot in Slanci, to Zauran's pad in Višnjica, but I had to drop Zena off in Dedinje first.

She told me she's thinking of moving out to Simanovci. That would more than double the time it takes me to get to her house, and fuck that for a fucking bad idea. How the hell would I reach her in an emergency?

If I have my way, she'll be moving to Slanci where I know the vampyres can't find her, in my bed, in my house, close enough to touch every time I think of her, away from the clogged congestion of the city.

Either way, right now my three minute drive is a good forty minute battle in traffic right through Belgrade, and back out onto the highway curving along the Danube river, to curl back inland to my haven; forests and open air where I can breathe.

I love this time of year, the grass is drying and turning into a tweed palette, the trees are rich and vibrant with golds, scarlet, and hot orange. Every time the wind blows, leaves feather through the air, crunching, rustling with dry discontent, and the morning air is crisp and sharp.

Nothing makes me feel more alive than this time of year, a new challenge, and the strange satisfaction of knowing she loves me. Really fucking loves me, no bullshit.

Fuck this, whatever Zauran has he must bring it. I can do this, and I have so much shit to work out I'm tensing just anticipating the release of the freedom to nail someone brutally without getting into shit for it.

Well, Zaria might be pissed at me for a bit, but she's a walk in the park compared to Zena..

Zaria I can handle.

Flexing my fist, looking forward to what's waiting for me, the Honda rears, nostrils flaring, speeding up, invigorating me with the merciless blast of cool air.

Bring it brother, bring it.

*

Zauran:

“
Zarak come in,” I wave him over to the breakfast table.

Zaria is still in bed, and Aisyx is here to keep me in check for Sveta's initiation, so now is good timing for a change.

“Sorry to bug you at home but you haven't been back to Pravus,” he says, pulling out a chair at the table and dwarfing it as if he's playing house with a little girl. Even our cups are too small, and I'm not a small man by any measure of the imagination.

“
Coffee?” I offer, reaching over to the simmering espresso pot.

“
Thanks,” he nods, looking to Aisyx, and then back to me.

Handing his drink over, I get to the point, “So? Did she come clean?”

“I purified her, and honestly Zauran she's not hiding a god damn thing. She's way too arrogant and conceited to hide her activities. The babe likes praise.”

His expression clearly states praise and a whole lot more, but I'm not going there. His personal shit needs to stay private.

Aisyx leans forward, planting elbows on the table and covering one hand over the other, paper and rock style, “There haven't been any attacks since she's been with you, Zarak. That spells guilty in my book.”

Zarak is the polar opposite of Aisyx. Aisyx has jaw length blond hair and piercing blue eyes, showing his vampyre bloodline, but he's built like a neuri. The largest neuri half-breed on earth, he's as big as a demon. Zarak is all dark and broody, intense, threatening, which belies his attitude more than half the time.

The demon's eyes flash blue, then red, before settling back in to black, “She is innocent, Aisyx. She likes acknowledgment and adoration. After everything I put her through she would have said something, let something slip, because it's her nature – and she didn't.”

“
Are you saying that because you want to protect your addiction, or because you believe it?” I challenge.

As the neuri responsible for Belgrade I have the jurisdiction to question Zarak in this manner, and he can't deck me.

He twizzles the coffee mug around on the table by the handle, staring at it, then looking at me like the speck of dust he thinks I am, “She's a cold hearted killer, and she's innocent. I raped her mind inside out looking for the red letter you want to hang on her neck, and for this crime it just isn't there. You're now wasting precious time looking at the wrong scapegoat.”

He downs his coffee and rises up from his chair to tower over the kitchen, “Take it or leave it. I'm freeing her today because we're holding the wrong person in custody.”

I point at his seat, “Sit down. We need to talk about the vampyre community.”

Zarak glowers at us before slowly lowering into his carved wooden chair at the round table, every muscle straining against fabric, definitely coming over as intimidating.

Again, I get to the point, “Is Venix a vampyre, or angel?”

“
Both,” Zarak says, as if I'm wasting his time.

“
What's up with that?” says Aisyx.

Zarak looks to him, “He had to maintain his vampyre abilities and presence in order to keep that population under control. He's raising vampyre babies, which means with them he has to be a vampyre. An angel has completely different needs to a vampyre. That's why you get different readings from Venix, and that's why he seems schizophrenic at times, it depends which half is currently dominating his actions.”

Well that puts that issue to bed. Fuck. So if it's neither of them, then who is it?

Nodding to Zarak, I say, “Please be so kind as to get Venix here. I need to speak with him. What will you do when you release Ellindt?”

“Go back to Pravus. Why?”

“
I want it to look legit, give any people nosing about the believable impression the doors are closed for renovations, cleaning, upkeep, that kinda thing. Do you think you can maintain that illusion?”

“
Sure,” he nods, standing up again.

“
Cool,” I nod, indicating he's free to go. He takes two steps away from the table and vanishes.

No goodbye.

Aisyx looks at me, “Are you fucking insane? You're inviting Venix into your home.”

“
Yes, Aisyx. I'm bringing the enemy into the den, you wanna know why? Because he loves Zaria, and more than anything in the world I need to keep my children safe during this madness.”

Leaning back in the chair, I prop my feet onto the table, tilting my chair onto its back legs, getting frustrated that we can't find the rogue cell, and that we seem utterly incompetent when it comes to pinpointing who would want to attack us, or why.

Glaring at my cousin, I reinforce, “You would be the best Vampyre leader for this region because you are vamp-neuri. You understand the needs of both factions.”

Dropping the chair to sit on all four legs again, I skewer him with my focus, “You need to make friends with Venix. It's time we built a bridge that can withstand the storms. Sveta reverting to old prejudices constantly, isn't helping the cause. The only way we can move forward as a community is if we forgive each other for the past and let that baggage go.”

Aisyx smirks, blue eyes twinkling, “He's like a pissy ex-girlfriend. Every time there's an argument he drags up a list of misdemeanors that are no longer an issue.”

Laughing, I almost have a fucking heart attack to see Venix leaning against the doorframe, watching us.

*

Jowendrhan:

It takes immense restraint not to manifest inside her home. Playing the gentleman, I suck air into a gale as I pop into being on her doorstep, giving the door a knock.

Staring through the wall as if it's no more than a hazy window, I watch her wrap the towel around her body, catching long hair in another towel and twisting it onto her head.

She thinks I'm Sveta, ha! This should be priceless.

There's no way I'm giving up my immortality when I thrive on reading the thoughts of the women I've sucked and screwed. This ability must burn Sveta's sanity every time it dawns on him.

The door flings wide and surprise registers on her face, instinctively closing arms over her chest to hold the towel tighter.

Tracing up her legs with my eyes glowing platinum, I visually lick her from her toes to her tits. My focus falters on her hands, and I step in, forcing her to retreat, slamming the door behind me.

Snatching her hand, I hold her arm up between us, “What the hell happened?”

“
Nothing happened. What are you doing here?”

“
Zena, don't bullshit me. Jesus!” I'm possessed, gripping her head and looking at the deep crimson bruise on her neck, fading to black at the edges. Her wrists are banded with yellow-green bruises, and when I turn her I spot the finger marks left on her thigh.

“
Did he do this to you?” I'm going to destroy that motherfucker.

“
Yes, but–”

I grip her head and twist her face so she's forced to look away, the rage blasting my white light into her home. It can blind her.

Looking back, I'm impassioned, “Fuck Zena! No. I don't give a shit how rough you like it, what kind of man does this to the woman he loves? Love my ass, he wouldn't know love if it shattered his nose with a full frontal.”

Gripping my wrist, she sinks short nails in, “Jo, let me go, and stop assuming–”

“I'm not assuming, Zena. Those bruises aren't my imagination. A man who beats up a woman a third of his size deserves to have his balls handed to him in a jar of formaldehyde.”

“
He didn't beat me at all...”

But her voice trails off and I vividly receive the images of what he
did
do to her. Fuck that's ten times worse!

Forcing her back against the wall of the passage, I lean my arm on the wall, bending over her, using my legs and free arm to trap her, “Zena...”

Lifting her chin up so I can look her in the eyes, it's impulsive to run a thumb over her lips. Shit, they're swollen. What the hell did he do?

“
... Babes, you're the mother of my children. If you think that doesn't mean something to me, you'd be wrong.”

“
Jo, cut the crap. Why are you here?”

Her hand is still on my wrist and it's tempting me to tug on the flimsy towel and remind myself of what she looks like on the end of my boner.

“I have to babysit. I thought you might like to see the twins.” Leaning closer, I breathe in her exposed ear, “Please come with me.”

She closes her eyes, the grip on my wrist tightening.

You remember the last time I asked you to come with me.
Yes!

Fuck I could kiss you so hard, right this second. I want to feel you, god damn woman.

That night is bombing my brain and my body responds in recollection. I run my thumb over her lip again, inhaling freshly brushed teeth, her perfume, soap, shampoo, all soft and feminine and enticing.

He hurt her, now I'm going to hurt him. But first I'm taking her to see our children, to remind her who came first, literally and figuratively.