Burning Skies (8 page)

He’d come inside her, which made him wonder. He looked down at his partially thickened cock still weeping his fluids. He blinked. He felt over his abdomen and chest, but there was nothing of his come present on his body. He felt only a thin sheen of sweat.

If this had been a wet dream, he would have been covered in his seed.

So where was the unmistakable evidence that he’d just had one helluva fine orgasm?

He was pretty sure he knew and once more he smiled at the ceiling. If he was right about all of this, Havily Morgan had one big-ass shock coming to her.

Good.

*   *   *

Havily knew the encounter was just a dream, like all the others she’d experienced,
endured,
over the past weeks. Of course it was just a dream, except that in this dream she’d actually had an orgasm. And somewhere in the course of the dream, she’d stripped off her nightgown … as usual.

She lay in bed, staring at her ceiling, at the collection of glittery butterflies. The air conditioner came on, and the large flock moved as though in flight.

She smiled. She didn’t know exactly what this was she had been doing at night, but she could feel the ease of hormones that drifted through her veins now, those beautiful hormones that gave her such a light peaceful feeling.

She had to admit one thing—her fantasies
rocked
! She could even laugh at herself now. She had given Marcus such form, such shape that when she’d awakened from the fantasy-dream, for a moment she’d actually believed he was real.

Her smile faded. She believed he was real in the same way she had believed the fiery attack on Luken had been real … because the attack
had been real.

She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Of course the attack on Luken had been real. She’d made a phone call, and Thorne had confirmed the tragedy.

But this
thing
with Warrior Marcus was not real, never had been real,
couldn’t
be real. Oh, God, it really couldn’t.

She took several deep breaths and calmed the feelings of panic that constricted her chest. Of course it wasn’t real. But … and here she closed her eyes … in the dream-fantasy, Marcus had smelled so wonderful.

She touched her fingers to her lips. She smelled all his delicious fennel scent and smiled. In her fantasy he had kissed her—and what had he kept saying to her?
Sleep.
So she had, and then she’d orgasmed. He was such a big, powerful man and his hips had pistoned hard. And his cock, like a baseball bat.

Desire swept over her once more and her hips rocked as she let all the incredible sensations sweep over her, which in turn caused her back to arch off the mattress. That’s when she felt the oozing between her legs.

She had just finished her period. What the hell?

She sat up carefully and flipped on the light. She grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed between her legs. She looked down at the tissues certain she’d see blood. However, what came out of her wasn’t red.

What came out of her smelled richly of … oh, God …
fennel.

This was a man’s essence, his seed.

Marcus?

No.

Impossible!

So what was this? What had happened? She hadn’t been with a man. She’d just had a sexy dream, a hot sexy dream, that’s all.

Really.

Her heart rate increased. Had she been drugged? Enthralled? Raped?

Was someone in her house?

She glanced around at the shadows. She reached out with her senses but she knew her home was safe. No one else was present.

She stared down between her thighs, at the white tissues below her peachy-red pubic hair. Once more that deep, musky fennel scent, like grasses in summer, spiraled up to her.

There could be only one answer. Somehow Warrior Marcus had gotten to her. He’d found a way to penetrate her dreams then penetrate her.

Marcus.

That bastard. What had he done to her?
How
had he done this to her?

*   *   *

Antony Medichi, out of Italy in the late Roman era, sat next to Havily on the ratty brown leather couch. The hour was early, not yet seven, and given Luken’s accident and her role in the near-tragedy, she couldn’t have gotten much sleep.

There was a haunted look about her lovely light green eyes this morning.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. The night’s fighting, thank God, was over and as usual the brothers were together at the Cave, one last bonding before heading to bed for the day.

Havily sat next to him, a venti iced coffee held between her hands. “Of course I’m okay. I mean I could use a little sleep, but all that matters is that Luken is doing so well.” She stared down at her cup and twirled the straw.

“That’s all that matters.”

Thorne had just given a report on how well Luken was recovering; a team of healers was with him and would remain working on him until Horace was satisfied. The warrior had even awakened for a few minutes and conversed with Thorne. He wasn’t in too much pain. Horace had seen to that. As for Luken’s wings, it was a wait-and-see.

Still, Havily wasn’t used to seeing that kind of horror, and he couldn’t help being concerned about her. She’d become important to the Warriors of the Blood, sort of a mascot, a beloved mascot.

He held a café mocha in one hand and a buttermilk doughnut in the other. He took a sip, then a bite. He loved that she sat next to him. He’d forgotten how soothing the presence of a woman could be, especially in the off-hours like this, after a night of battling when a warrior’s nerves were still standing up straight and screaming, his body bruised and hurting. Havily was like sliding into a warm bath, an ease, a comfort. He treasured her.

She was dressed to kill this morning as well, which always helped. She wore a short skirt in light blue that showed off her bare tanned legs. She had on elegant heeled sandals with sapphire-like gems on the front straps. Her blouse was cream silk, and around her neck hung a large piece of jewelry on a chain that sparkled in black and gold with small light blue crystals. The blouse had a perfect V-cut, and because she was leaning forward on the couch, her arms on her knees, she showed a nice line of cleavage. Dynamite.

But her hair was her finest feature. It floated all around her shoulders, a cloud of red, and a beautiful red at that, dark, lustrous. A man could sink his hands into that kind of hair. Her skin was very creamy. She was beautiful.

On her Liaison Officer salary Havily could have afforded a much larger home than her modest condo. Instead, he suspected she spent most of her money on clothes—or at least she looked like she did. She liked the labels. Her Gucci sunglasses hung over the edge of her Marc Jacobs bag, and he had talked with her enough over the years to know that she preferred Ralph Lauren to other designers. Endelle might still dress up in her animal skins, but Havily now set a tone in the admin offices that had all the women fussing with makeup and hair and clothes.

Yeah, the office was improved, and maybe that was something about her he’d never really understood until now. Wherever she went, the environment improved. That may not have been a preternatural power, but it was a certain kind of magic at headquarters.

Even here at the Cave, her magic had been spreading. She’d recently seen to the repair of the TV for them and now it ran on CNN, set up to be activated by a motion detector. As soon as anyone entered the room, the news flared up, not too loud, just a steady background drone full of Mortal Earth info. That, too, had a strange soothing quality.

Okay. He was half in love with her but then they all were.

Lately however, whenever he was around her, he’d started feeling an ache in the center of his chest, a longing he didn’t quite get. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she could ever have feelings for him, not after the
breh-hedden
in the form of Warrior Marcus had hunted her down in March and shot her full of intense lust for the bastard.

No, he’d lived too long on earth, either dimension, to think there could ever be anything between himself and Havily Morgan. But for the strangest moment he wished he could take her home, make love to her, then fall asleep curled up around her body.

With such a vivid thought, his body reacted and the coffee slid from his hand. With vampire speed he caught it before it hit the floor, splashed, and made a mess.

“Careful,” she murmured.

“Long night,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. He kept his gaze away from her.

He felt her hand on his shoulder. She rubbed back and forth, a real comfort, and it was all he could do to keep from either flinching or grabbing both of her arms and hauling her against his chest. Shit. He wondered if this was the way Luken felt around her.

Luken of course had been on his mind, on all the brothers’ minds. Havily’s, too, no doubt. She had a connection to Luken. He’d been her guardian during her ascension but he’d also had the worst crush on her since.

Medichi still didn’t quite get, though, how Havily had found Luken in a vision. She had related as best she could what had happened to her, that she had somehow
seen
the sky on fire and Luken fall to the earth.

Warning bells had gone off at her description of having a vision. The whole thing smacked not of a Second Earth power but of a third-dimension ability—and if that was the case, she could be in trouble. If, after a century as a vampire, she was now developing new powers, powers that would finally explain why the Seers a hundred years ago had insisted she needed a warrior guardian during her three-day rite of ascension, then she could be in danger all over again. Third abilities were rare on Second Earth, and Greaves would not want anyone with that level of power aligned with Madame Endelle, simple as that.

A tremor went through him when he thought of her alone in her small condo. To his knowledge the place had a mediocre security system. Also, he didn’t think she had the ability to make mist
,
and she certainly had no skills with a sword or even a modest ability to defend herself.

He felt uneasy. He’d have to think about her situation. Maybe there was something he could do.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I plan on visiting Luken this morning. Want to come with?”

Havily nodded. “What time?”

Medichi shrugged. “Later. About eleven I think. Given what he’s been through, he’ll need to sleep for a few hours.”

“I would really like that.”

“Then I’ll see you at the clinic at eleven.”

“Perfect.”

Yes, she was.

He was beloved,

But I could not take him to my bed.

He brought the rays of the sun to the earth

And the stars were named for his exploits.

He was as gentle as a soft rain.

But the door of my house remained closed.

I was not for him.

I belonged to the tempest.

—
Collected Poems,
Beatrice of Fourth

CHAPTER 4

“She saved your life, brother.” Antony Medichi’s deep voice filled the small clinic room.

Havily stood in the doorway and suppressed a sigh. The Warriors of the Blood were one gorgeous lot.

Medichi leaned close to the bed, his elbow resting on the top of the mattress since Luken was sitting up all the way, the automatic bed raised to support him. Luken looked deathly pale, which was so unusual for the largest of the warriors. His complexion was normally a beautiful golden color. His thick blond hair, having been protected by the
cadroen,
hung in waves over his shoulders and down his chest. He was naked to the waist, a thin white sheet covering his thighs. He actually looked vulnerable, despite the massive size of his pecs, his arms, and his shoulders.

Thanks to the work of the healers, his skin had lost its fiery blistered appearance. Except for his pallor, he was amazingly recovered.

He caught sight of her and smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. “Havily. Come in. Please.”

“Hey,” Medichi called to her softly. “The dragon actually let you out of her lair?”

Havily laughed as she moved into the room. She loved both of these men so much, but she found herself biting back tears.

“Don’t you look pretty in your blue skirt,” Luken said.

“Thank you.” She drew close to the bed. He extended a hand and she took it. He squeezed gently, his obvious affection for her shining in his eyes. How many times had she wished she could feel more for him than she did?

“I don’t remember much about last night—only that you were there. How did you find me?”

“Well, I’m still not sure. I think I had a vision, or something. Although right now it’s kind of a blur.” A lump formed in her throat. “I’ve never been more frightened.”