Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1) Page 8

  “There is no need for such trivial things as an apology, Trace. I am confident you have learned your lesson and won’t act in such a way again. I am not worried about it and,” Terran began as he crossed his arms over his broad muscled chest, “neither should you be.”

  Trace licked his lips nervously and shifted uncomfortably under the twin’s gaze.

  “I know. I cannot help it. I keep replaying the event over and over in my mind, and it’s nearly tortuous,” he admitted.

  Terran’s deep and velvet laugh drifted through the room and bounced off of the walls to greet Trace’s ears. The male nearly slapped his knee with glee at the hilarity and irony of what Trace had just said to him.

  “I can assure you, son, that is the point of the Ignatur Ceremony. Mark my words, though. That won’t be taking place ever again. You want to know why?”

  “Of course.” Trace’s voice raised nearly an octave in pitch as his curiosity piqued.

  The large brother sauntered over to him and placed a large warm hand on the youth’s shoulder in reassurance.

  “Because I need to take my charge as your Guardian even more seriously than I had before. Be prepared, Trace Vexo. You will train like no other and be better for it because you have me watching your every step. You understand me?”

  The boy nodded, looking up at his mentor in wonder and awe

  “Yes, Craven Twin, I understand.”

  “Now,” Terran said as he moved to the other side of the vast expanse of his bedroom and picked up his black leather jacket from the plush chair at the side of his bed, slipping over his shoulders, “I must check in on the Daughter of Electi. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. I am certain that your parents cannot stand the sight of you at the moment. Take your time going home, okay?”

  All the boy could do was nod at the incredibly generous gesture. Once seeing the youth’s response, Terran turned and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Trace with his disturbing thoughts of the consequences.

  ***

  Calyx watched in silence as Brynn tortured the male, resisting the urge to join her friend in the quest for information that he was so eagerly willing to hold onto. It hadn’t mattered what she did to him or what he saw when inflicted with the wand, he never divulged even a crumb of Intel. Calyx had seen that coming but didn’t expect Brynn’s reaction to his defiance.

  A game of truth or dare? No, more like a game of truth and consequences, which Calyx knew was Brynn’s favorite torture method only second to the cat of nine tails. Even severing limbs was after this nifty game. It always worked for her. That was something she couldn’t deny. Calyx walked down the hallway toward her own bedroom within the mansion, knowing full well that there was nothing she could do until Brynn called for them again.

  “Calyx,” a voice came from behind her.

  Without stopping, she turned her head to find Bayn walking briskly in her direction.

  “What do you want, Bayn?” she asked, not even caring to stop the disdain dripping off of every syllable.

  Bayn caught up to her, his long legs carrying him quickly down the hall as Calyx’s door came into view. “How could you let her do this?” he asked he grabbed her shoulder and spun her to look at him.

  She turned her back against the wall and stared daggers at him as he towered over her.

  “You know Brynn as well as I do. Once she has a plan, there is no stopping her. Or have you forgotten that, friend? You are so in love with her that is something you should remember,” Calyx spat at him. She felt the fury rolling off of him like smoke as his muscles curled under his perfect flesh.

  Just then his muscles relaxed, and he sagged against the opposite wall. “That woman will be the death of me, I swear it,” he admitted.

  Something about his demeanor caused Calyx to relent a little.

  “Why not just talk to her? Tell her how you feel. You know her time is running out, and she will be forced to select a mate before long. She never talks about it, but she knows. I can see the desperation on her face at times when Natalia reminds her that selecting a Breeding Partner is one of her sacred duties. Maybe the timing is better than it’s ever been,” she finished.

  Bayn raised tortured eyes to her.

  “But she knows, Calyx. She knows that either Tarren or I would die for her. How desperately in love with her we are. Why is she prolonging our agony? It has to have something to do with Gwenyth, doesn’t it? Do you think that she actually wants to see Gwenyth happily paired up first? I believe Brynn fears that her sister will never find a suitable mate. And frankly, the way Brynn ‘mother hens’ Gwenyth, she is just getting in her own way.”

  “It may be sooner than you think, Bayn. But answer me this. If Brynn does make a selection and it isn’t you or Tarren, how will you feel then?”

  “I wouldn’t like it, but in spite of my personal devastation I would never leave her side, and neither would Tarren. Even if I settled down with some other female, I would probably call her Brynn’s name even as we made love, but I would be willing to live with it just to be near her for the rest of my days. That is the depth of commitment I feel for her.”

  Calyx giggled and pulled Bayn by one arm to get him moving again.

  “We will see who the Daughter of Electi selects. And as for calling another female by Brynn’s name, that never goes over well. You can expect to be slapped.”

  ***

  Gwenyth was out of breath when she reached the wild grape arbor behind the mansion, perspiring between her young breasts and filled with the wrenching excitement that only young love can bring.

  Brynn was otherwise occupied, and getting away from both her older sister and the guards that hovered over her was quite a feat, but she had managed it. Everyone assigned to her constant surveillance was sure that she was with someone else, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to arrange a clandestine meeting with someone she hoped would become her lover.

  Ryder Perkins.

  He stepped suddenly out of the shadows, startling her.

  “I apologize, my fair Daughter of the Electi,” he said bowing, a secret smile twitching at the corners of his lips and pleasure twinkling in his dark eyes. “I did not mean to frighten you. But at this time my ardor for you must be concealed, I know. I wouldn’t wish you the wrath of the others, especially your sister,”

  Gwenyth looked up at him. He seemed even taller, more handsome and alluring in moonlight than he had been by candlelight. Was that even possible?

  “Are you wearing it?” he asked. “Please, tell me that you are wearing the token of my affections. That you honored me to accept it and I will be the happiest vampire in all of Los Angeles.”

  Gwenyth didn’t answer, but reached slender fingers between her small breasts and hauled the amulet up by its chain so that he could see she was wearing it.

  “I never take it off,” she told him, “and I insist on bathing alone now so that the servants can’t see it. Brynn finally agreed with me that I could have my privacy.”

  “I can’t blame your sister,” Ryder answered, moving more closely toward her and inhaling the pure scent of her young skin. “You are such a beauty, Gwenyth. Such a treasure. Of course, she would be protective of you.”

  Gwenyth felt a thrill go through her as she instinctively raised her beautiful face, standing on her tiptoes to meet his lips as they covered hers. Their first kiss was electric, shocking her young body to life and awakening her long-dormant sexuality.

  The emotions she felt created a storm inside of her. She felt sick with longing. She wanted---she wanted---something more.

  ***

  Ryder felt her muscles tighten against him in anticipation, the longing wafting off of her like roiling smoke. Her body was small against his, not yet developed into the woman she would become once her full transition hit. He couldn’t lie to himself and say that he wasn’t attracted to her, her beauty nearly rivaling her older sister’s.

  The Daughters of Electi were said to be
legendary beauties and, from what he had seen once he joined Brynn’s manse, it was truth. But Gwenyth was naive, bending so quickly to Ryder’s advances that he almost felt sorry for her in a way, even with her body pressed into his with need. Her desire tickled his nostrils and caused his heart to race, but he chose to take this at a slow pace for it was a slow process -- integrating himself into an already established fold. He seemed to manage just fine enough as long as he could get closer to Gwen to worm his way in.

  He just had to make certain he wasn’t becoming distracted by the younger sister. He had a job to complete. Within an instant, Gwyneth’s eyes popped open, and she pulled away, her warmth leaving him just as quickly and confused.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I sensed something about that man, and now I know what it was.” She took Ryder’s hand in hers and began to lead him back to the basement where the Liquidator hybrid was being kept. “Come on.”

  ***

  While Gwenyth pulled Ryder from under the grape arbor, overcome by the charms of the male, Brynn met with Natalia. She pounded her fist on the heavy oak table in front of her in one of the School Conference chambers.

  “He tells me nothing, and I have tortured him to the point of near physical death with that wand. I have never met such an arrogant, insulting and stubborn individual in all of my days. Are you listening, Natalia? This Creed is driving me mad. It’s almost like he wants to die.”

  Natalia looked at Brynn evenly with her mind’s eye. She certainly had her father’s temper and her mother’s sharp tongue. It was difficult to reason with her when she was worked up.

  “Perhaps you should take a different tact. Just ignore him for a while, eh? It is evident that he enjoys your attention, even if it caused him excruciating pain. Just leave him alone for a while. This one is different. I think that boredom might accomplish what all your torture tactics have failed to.”

  Brynn stared at her for a moment, stunned.

  “Natalia, I am not sure if that is the most brilliant idea I have ever heard or the lamest. What if he never talks? What am I keeping him alive for? I would rather end him and not have to be bothered. He is such a thorn in my side.”

  “I know, Daughter of the Electi,” Natalia said, making her raspy voice gentler. “But there is something you have not realized in all this. There is something he covets as he has never coveted anything in his entire existence. Though I may be blind, I can see it.”

  Brynn shrugged her shoulders.

  “Then tell me what it is and maybe we can offer up a bribe,” she said, wondering what Natalia was referring to.

  She had calmed down, but she wished Natalia would stop talking in circles and come to the point.

  Natalia chuckled.

  “It is you, Brynn. He wants you, and he would continue to endure any amount of torture to be close to you. Surely, if you search your soul, you will realize that this is true.”

  Brynn’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O,' and then she fell silent. Half of her was furious, realizing that she had inadvertently given Creed the attention he sought from her.

  The other part of her, the part that she found herself silencing with each new encounter with the prisoner, recognized that there was something that drew her to him in spite of herself. A strange fascination that she would rather die than admit.

  She stood up abruptly.

  “I will follow your advice. If this Creed character is taking pleasure in my presence, then I will make sure I stay far away from him, Thank you, Natalia.”

  Brynn exchanged an embrace with Natalia as she left, kissing her on both cheeks. Natalia waited until the echoes of Brynn’s boot clad retreating footsteps faded before she turned to one of the dark passages behind where she was sitting.

  “You may show yourself now, Carter.” Natalia tossed her hair over her shoulder as she stretched out her arms and legs before her. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, but you know when the Daughter of the Electi asks for a meeting I must attend to her.”

  A young man appeared from behind the curtain. He was a recently added member of the guard, and he took his duties very seriously.

  He stood in front of Natalia, his long sun-streaked brown hair hanging over one eye, and bowed in deference, taking and kissing her hand.

  “Natalia,” he breathed. “I would wait longer for you. You must know that.”

  Natalia laughed easily. The young man in front of her was someone she has known for years. In his time he was one of the School’s warriors in training that was constantly in trouble, up for disciplinary action and almost expelled a few times as a result.

  Now he was perhaps the fiercest warrior, other than Tarren and Bayn, that the School for Warrior Training had ever produced.

  “Carter, what was your last kill count?” she asked.

  “Forty-nine at last count, I believe,” he said her smiling. “And rising with each battle.”

  Natalia raised her face to his so that he could see the look of sheer admiration in her eyes.

  “I am so proud of you, you know--” but before she could finish her sentence the youth hauled her up against him, pressing his lips to hers.

  Passion bloomed in Natalia’s gut, intense desire for the male flooding her entire body as the muscles just below her waist tightened in response to his mouth. She may have been blind, but her senses were keen, and she could sense he desired for her as well, making his pull even stronger.

  Without breaking the intensity of their kiss, the stalwart young man tucked one muscular arm behind her legs and lifted her against his chest, cradling her body as he walked out through the West passageway and toward her private chambers.

  He set her down in front of her massive sleeping cushions so that she could remove her layers of robes. Because she was an Oracle, no one was allowed to touch her sacred raiment but her own hands. That did not stop them.

  Carter felt his pulse racing as he watched her disrobe. It never got old. To anticipate mounting her excited him to the point of frenzy as it always had. For years after reaching puberty he had lived with a secret considered so shameful that he never allowed himself to think about it unless he was alone and could masturbate.

  He was ‘hot for teacher,’ and always had been.

  As soon as the last bit of her apparel dropped onto the stone floor, he scooped her up again and tumbled with her onto her bed. Underneath her robes, she was almost petite, with nipples an unusual deep rose color and masses of dark curly pubic hair between her thighs.

  He buried his face between her legs, pleasuring her as she moaned. Natalia had confessed to him that she had felt his ardor from the beginning but knew that an affair was verboten, not only by the rules of the Electi but also by all the statues of the Gods that she served, until his graduation from the Warriors Institute.

  The night of the day he finally graduated, he had shown up at the door to her private chambers, unwilling to wait a second longer to see if she would have him as a lover. He would never forget how she smiled at him from under the shadow of her hood, her ruby lips curving deliciously as she reached out to grasp his manhood firmly.

  That was all the encouragement he needed. They had been fucking like rabbits ever since.

  At Natalia’s third moan he moved up and lowered himself between her legs, thrusting hard into her, causing her to grab handfuls of his hair. He kissed her again, the viscous wetness from between her legs still on his lips, and kept plunging into her. She smelled like roses and stone dust and ancient tombs, and he felt that he wanted to be by her side forever.

  When he finally collapsed on top of her, he knew he had found his Heaven.

  ***

  Creed sat in his cell, listening to the noises of the Electi jail within the mansion’s basement as he leaned back against the wall. His jaw still throbbed from Brynn’s swift and irritated kick, but he could manage it just fine. He had sincerely hoped she would give into his request but knew she wouldn’t. While he had heard many things about the Daughter
of Electi, her boundaries were still unclear to him. He rubbed his jaw and leaned his head against the wall behind him and let his hands fall into his lap, his long legs crossed.

  With a sigh, he thought about how long he watched the Daughter in the shadows long before their meeting in battle at her own home. She fought valiantly, each and every time, without regard for her own life as long as she could slay a few Liquidators and save a few lives. That was what had mattered to her. That and the Quaji. His father did know she possessed the Sapphire Eye, allowing her to see the soul sparks. He also knew she was collecting them, but they had no idea for what purpose. Her crimson eyes would flash a brilliant blue when the Eye was triggered, and she would remove her glass jars to collect the Quaji of the Liquidators after every battle, never missing a single one.

  He didn’t only admire her skill in battle, but he admired her tenacity and determination. He had seen it in her eyes as she sat in front of him and attempted to gain information she had no business with. And, Gods, she was beautiful.

  He closed his eyes and pictured her, sitting there with eyes intent on him, those deep red irises watching his every movement and every facial expression. And he was enthralled. Had been since the first time he saw her in battle, in a deep and dark alley in the heart of downtown Los Angeles years ago.

  It was raining, and the Liquidators had quickly surrounded her and her band of fighters, including the Fae half-breed and the twin brothers. She had remained calm, a smirk on that lovely mouth as her fangs peeked through. Her band of fighters dispatched the Liquidators with ease, Brynn killing most of them herself with her long blade, all coiled and lethal grace. Her pale skin was perfect, not marred by a single scar or blemish, and he was certain there was a part of her that he wanted so badly to be a part of was just as perfect.

  As the thought struck him, he felt that familiar clench of desire within his gut as heat spread through his body and down to his groin. He scrubbed his hand down his face, the stubble along his jaw rough on his palm.