Authors: Unknown
Chapter Thirty Three
A second before utter darkness engulfed them all, Yara saw Phillip lunge in the air toward her.
Oh, crap. She cringed backward and braced herself for the impact, but the jostle didn’t come from above. A wall of muscle tackled her from the side and pulled her away. A second later, she heard someone, probably Phillip, meet solid ground with a grunt.
Strong arms wrapped around Yara’s waist and shoved her against the wall. The delicious scent of whiskey and something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on, flooded her senses. Her heart drummed in her chest.
“That fucking draco has to learn to wait for his turn.” Dream God’s baritone voice vibrated in her ear.
She couldn’t see a thing, but she felt him towering over her. His strong hands held her in place, sending a wave of heat down to her core.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time, kitten,” he whispered, “and I’m not one to share my prey.”
Her knees turned to jelly, and her bad-ass panther purred like a … well, a kitten. She was already wet and he hadn’t even kissed her. But Yara didn’t have a submissive bone in her body, and it was time Mr. Dream God learned that.
She forced her mind out of the ridiculous fever, then planted both hands on his distractingly tight abs and pushed him away. “Your prey?” she chuckled seductively. “I must advise you, baby, this kitty is as wild as a panther.”
He didn’t budge, not even a millimeter. It was like trying to move a mountain. A mountain of delicious, tight, strong muscles.
“And last time I checked,” she added huskily, “cats eat birds, not the other way around.” She snaked her arms around his neck and spun, forcing them to switch places. Now
he
was against the wall.
Another deliciously low rumble resounded near her left ear.
He felt so amazing against her hands. Her fingers took a mind of their own and traced a path along his wide shoulders, his taut biceps, his bulging pecs. Ai Apa Dobrý, he felt so firm, so good, so warm. She felt him tense under her touch; a low, sensual groan escaped his lips. The strong beating of his heart picked up its pace.
Good.
Yara expanded her exploring to encompass his lower abs. “If anything,
you
are to be
my
prey tonight, little birdy.”
He glided his hands over hers, massaging the inside of her wrists. “And I’d be glad to be your servant.” To Yara’s amusement, instead of complying, he gathered both her wrists with one hand, shoved them above her head, while his torso forced her to move. Her back met cold wall before she could even think of blocking him.
“But I know that deep inside,” he whispered, “you
want
to be my prey tonight.”
Blazing shivers ran down Yara’s entire body. Ai, she was truly screwed. And hopefully well-screwed.
His hand kept her locked in place, while the other made its way down her chest cavity and around her breast. His touch was like a feather, taking his time, teasing the soft skin but never touching her nipple.
Mighty Soartas, this man had her core quivering with need. The more he trapped her, the more she wanted to be trapped. His legs nudged hers farther apart, as he licked a long path between her breasts.
She managed to block a moan from escaping her lips, but was within an inch of losing control when his stubble rasped its way along her neck, her jaw, her chin.
“I never knew birds were into cats,” Yara teased, and turned her head away just before his lips reached hers.
“Don’t be fooled by a mask, my wild cat,” he warned, then grabbed a handful of hair at the base of her neck, forcing her head back.
“Why not?” she defied him. “In the end, we all strive to become what we pretend to be.”
Dream God’s lips paused at the base of her chin, as if contemplating her words, but she couldn’t tell for sure. She couldn’t see a thing in the pitch-black darkness. She just let herself drown in his warmth, which seemed to be enveloping around her entire body, making her quiver for more. The sensual grunts from the other guests around them made her need even more excruciatingly painful – flesh pumping against flesh, groans muffled by moans.
“I shouldn’t be here with you, kitten,” Dream God revealed. “But I find myself simply unable to keep away.”
What did he mean by that? Yara wanted to ask but his sweet breath swept against her mouth, his delicious scent engulfed her, and just like that she didn’t remember what she’d wanted to ask anymore. Her panther purred in response, wanting more, needing more.
His lips halted inches from hers, and for a moment he did nothing. Yara waited, knowing that the anticipation was as delicious of the act itself. Dream God inhaled sharply, then, as if the grip from whatever was holding him back had just snapped, he clutched at the base of her skull and pulled her lips to his.
And Yara’s world collapsed. Any rational thought deserted her.
His kiss was demanding, arresting, enthralling. His tongue snaked around hers in a sensual swirl. While his hand still held her wrists in place, the other massaged her scalp, in tempo with his groin grinding against her wet core. She lifted one leg up, giving him more access to her sweet spot. Her intimate parts rubbed against his rock hard cock; only their flimsy tunics were between them. A long moan left her lips but was muffled by his mouth that was still exploring hers. By Apa Dobrý, he made her so hot! She was ready to explode, right there and then.
The warning bell echoed around the room, and was replied by several frustrated growls from the crowd, Yara’s included.
Dream God pulled away from their kiss and rested his forehead against hers. She was glad to hear he was panting as much as she was.
The second warning bell resounded.
“Damn it,” he swore softly. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to reach you again, my kitten, but I promise you,” he leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “our dance is far from over.”
Yara smiled lazily at his sweet innuendo, but his cruel words only sank in when cold air brushed against her exposed skin, as Dream God pulled away completely.
What? No, too soon!
The lights flickered back on, blinding Yara for a moment. She searched around the room, but to no avail. Somehow, he had already disappeared in the crowd. He had teased her, ravished her, and left her there, wanting.
The bastard.
She crossed the room, using her arms and elbows to open a path between the hordes of bodies, who refused to take the hint and find a room. It was always like that after a Total Blackout. The party became a big, massive orgy. No one belonged to anyone anymore, and if you didn’t get out in time, there was no escaping the hungry mob. In past occasions, Yara had thrown herself deep in the post-blackout bash, letting herself go and her troubles vanish in the complete sexual abandon. But not tonight. She was in no mood for nameless lovers. She wanted Dream God.
She managed to reach the stairway unscathed and, taking advantage of the higher vantage point, she searched the room for him. Nope, no sign of him. Impossible! He couldn’t have simply
poofed
out of there! For a second time, she pored over the dozens of people in the crowd, examining every single one of them. Her eyes stopped at the sight of a tall blonde draco who was just leaving through the front doors.
Oh, crap! Phillip!
Reality crushed down on her, wiping out any lingering effects of Dream God’s kiss. Yara had a mission to finish, and by Apa Dobrý, she would do whatever it took to accomplish it.
Without wasting another second, she leaped over the railing and ran after Phillip. As she rushed through the main doors, she glanced at the set of trees in the distance and whispered, “Phillip’s just left through here. He was wearing a blue mask.”
A millisecond later, she saw Dyam jump out of hiding and dart across the parking lot. Joel appeared right next to Yara, just as Dyam reached her.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but he can’t be far, he’s just left –”
Her words were muffled by a loud noise of wings flapping against the wind. They all looked up just in time to see a massive silver and blue dragon cross the skies above.
Fuck. She had let Phillip get away.
Chapter Thirty Four
Phillip flapped his large wings as fast as he could. That fucking wolf ruined his plans. As soon as one of Balaur’s minions had found him at the party, he knew his evening of leisure was over. He didn’t know what Balaur wanted with Yara, but his message had been clear – grab the witch and take her to him in the mountains. Everything was going well – damn, he even contemplated taking his time with her before delivering the package – until that fucking wolf showed up out of nowhere.
What the fuck was Rafe thinking?
Phillip’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a wall of fire blocked his way. He edged his wings sharply to avoid the blaze then stopped mid-air. Dragons couldn’t be killed by the very element they were made of, but crashing into a fire barricade was hardly a pleasant experience.
“Off somewhere, Phillip?” Balaur asked him, retracting his blaze.
“I was on my way to meet you,” Phillip lied.
“Really?” the black dragon asked sarcastically. “I didn’t know that the quickest way to the Northern Mountains was through the south.”
“Well, I had to make a pit stop before …”
“Shut up!” Balaur bellowed, circling around Phillip. “You offend me with your pitiful lies.” He puffed steam out of his nostrils a couple of times, as if trying to control his anger, then flapped his wings and landed on a clearing below. The summer night was unusually damp and the low-hanging clouds protected them from any curious farmers around.
Phillip followed his lord and landed in the same clearing. There was no point in trying to escape, or deny the Dragon Lord. Balaur was not only one of the five draconian senators but one of the most powerful and well-connected creatures on the planet. Wherever Phillip decided to hide, he’d find him.
“I see you’ve come without my present,” the senator growled.
Here we go
. “Yara was within my grasp, but,” he paused and took a deep breath. “My moves were
blocked
by another man.”
“Blocked? You mean you were outfoxed by a wolf.”
Phillip exhaled sharply. Why did Balaur bother asking him what happened if he knew what had gone down at the party? Fucker. “Look, Balaur, I’ll get Rafe sorted, OK?” Phillip promised, “Then I’ll give you the bitch on a platter for you to do as you wish with her.”
“Too late. The stakes have gone up. Your incompetence has left us with no other choice but to kill the witch.”
Phillip stared at the Dragon Lord flabbergasted. The senator had finally lost his mind. “May I ask why we want to kill Yara, which will almost certainly bring forth Tardieh’s rage?”
“Because Tardieh will be too busy trying to save his offspring.”
Fucking Soartas. Did Phillip hear him right? “Are you saying …”
“Yes, Zoricah carries the vampire king’s baby.”
“Impossible!” It was Phillip’s turn to bellow out. “Only humans can bear the child of other supernatural creatures!”
“Humans and a pure being from Apa Dobrý,” Balaur replied.
Phillip was completely lost. Zoricah? A pure being? “But she’s a
sujha
, she’s the dirty laundry from a fling between Ucidhere and a draco girl.”
“Apparently there’s more to that story than our great God of Death let out,” Balaur said, then waved one of his leathery hands dismissively. “That’s none of your concern. Your mission is to get rid of the witch. Make her disappear and do it now. Zoricah cannot carry that pregnancy to the end, understood?”
Phillip nodded. Balaur puffed smoke out of his nostrils and turned to leave, then stopped. “And,” he added. “Make the wolf do it.” Pure sadism flooded out of his words. “The dog needs to learn a lesson.”
“On that, my lord, we’re in complete agreement,” Phillip replied. “And I know exactly how I’m going to get that fucker for good. Two birds with one stone.”
Chapter Thirty Five
“And so Phillip managed to escape. Again,” Zoricah concluded.
Yara looked at her leader and took a deep breath. She had been kicking herself over that ever since. “To be fair, my move was … err … blocked.”
“Blocked?” Sam asked from the couch. “Yeah, as I said, I found him, he was within my grasp, but then, this other guy didn’t let me leave, blocked my way, like … literally.”
She hadn’t told them the whole story. They didn’t need to know how much Dream God had affected her. She was a bit ashamed of it, to be frank. She was an experienced warrior, she had been in the sex club scene for decades and never had she been so bowled over by a stranger like that. It reminded her of her first crush, Pedro. It reminded her way too much of Pedro, and how he had led her to her disgrace as a water witch. Yara rubbed the bases of her palms over her eyes and tried to clear her head, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to forget Dream God so easy.
After the mission’s debacle at the party, the vamps had teleported her back to Tardieh’s mansion. Since Z and the king were locked in their room – again – and Sam and Hikuro had retreated to their house in Japan for the day, Yara had gone straight to her bedroom to mull over the happenings of the evening until the crew woke up again for a debrief the following evening. That had been two days ago, and she still couldn’t get Dream God out of her head. His soft lips brushing over hers, his strong arms locking her in place, his chest crushing hers, his hard groin rubbing against her core, driving her into an utter bliss. And then there was his delicious scent of whiskey mixed with some sort of spice Yara still couldn’t put her finger on. But she had smelled it before, it wasn’t a completely foreign combo of smells, she just couldn’t place it. Where had she met him before? It wasn’t long ago, she knew it, but where?
“Yara?”
Z’s voice brought her back from her reverie. “Yeah?”
“So what do you think?”
Yara stared blankly at Z and the others. They were all looking at her, expectantly.
“Errr… think about what?”
“Merciful Soartas, woman, where were you?” Sam asked lightly. “Z asked you three times if you think Phillip might have been tipped in on our plans.”
Yara’s mind stumbled.
Damn you, Dream God!
He was turning her into a bitch in heat, better yet, a cat in heat. “No, I don’t think so,” she finally replied. “Have you found anything about the kid’s song in the books?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
Z exhaled a frustrated breath. “No,” she said. “We went through half of Tardieh’s library already but so far, nothing.” After Z’s encounter with Ucidhere and her future baby, she and Sam had been searching everywhere for the source of the nursery rhyme they were singing. She remembered every word but she was adamant there was more to it, and that they would need it someday.
“He has a great collection,” Naiah noted absently, and rested her head on Sam’s knees. They had become besties ever since her arrival, making it almost impossible for Yara to organize her cousin’s return to the jungle.
“Yeah, but no use to us. None of his books are about old rhymes.”
Yara’s mind jumped unwittingly to her time back in Brazil and the magical barks of wood in the Mother’s chambers. “What if it’s not a nursery rhyme?”
Sam and Naiah stared at her blankly. Z looked down.
“You know it’s more than just a song, don’t you, Z?” Yara asked.
Her leader nodded. “I could feel its importance. It was as clear as day that they were singing it for me and that those words carried the fate of the world, at least my world.”
Sam stood up and started pacing up and down the room. “Did it mention anything about hands?”
“Yeah,” Z replied. “Blood is spilled. Blood from the innocent. Lost inmãs can’t find their way. Apa Sâmbetei. Lightning from alabaster hands,” she recited the verse by heart.
“Lightning from alabaster hands,” Sam repeated absently. “And then?” she prompted.
“Hmm, it goes … Lightning from alabaster hands tear the night apart, chaos in orderly world. Magical sparkle fills the skies, ball of fire breaks through, but sharp teeth see it through. And then I collapsed. ”
Mighty Soartas from the gates of Hiad! “Have you just described our mission in London or what?”
Z stared wide-eyed at Yara then at Sam, who reflected her astonishment with one of her own.
“My hands are definitely alabaster,” she considered examining her hands. “But I like to think that I wasn’t the one who brought chaos to London. Dr. Burvis did.”
“I think Hikuro would disagree with that!” Naiah joked. “He’s so prim and proper and you are so … wild compared to him.”
Yara gawked at Naiah. Spot on.
“Chaos to orderly world!” Yara, Sam and Z chanted nodding at each other. It was so clear now.
“The part “magical sparks filling the skies with the ball of fire” could mean liberation though,” Naiah added.
“What do you mean?” Z asked her.
“Well, back in Brazil, I’m in charge of keeping safe the Soarta Scrolls, the sacred barks of wisdom. I’ve spent my whole life deciphering enigmas and finding a pattern between them. It’s very common to find fire connected to rebirth, like the Phoenix.”
“And those souls you released from Dr. Burvis’ experiments definitely found rebirth, Z,” Yara added, remembering how sad her friend had been for not having been able to save their lives. In the end, she hadn’t been supposed to. Her spiritual mission had been to free those inmãs, enabling them to go to Apa Sâmbetei in peace.
“Naiah, what else have you seen in the scrolls?” Z asked. “Have you ever read anything with these verses before?”
Naiah frowned. “No, sorry,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The Soarta Scrolls are constantly moving, as the several versions of reality come into place.”
Naiah was right. By living life, every creature in the world was making history. The most powerful prophecies had several versions, and they were woven together at every turn of events. And that could mean that the Mothers had the prophecy written somewhere in the Soarta Scrolls, they just hadn’t put it together yet.
Before Yara could share her thoughts out loud, she got distracted by something vibrating in her pocket. Her cellphone was ringing. “I gotta take this,” she said pushing off the couch, “And it’s time for your afternoon shake, Z,” she added and chuckled at Z’s long face.
She hit the talk button and left the room toward the kitchen.
“What’up, CJ?” she said after pushing the answer button.
“Hey, gorgeous, what’s cookin’?” her contact replied. CJ was her lead for everything. He was her stock broker, her travel agent and her fixer at the underground fight clubs. He had been the one to find out Phillip was going to be at Balaur’s Masquerade Toga party two nights before.
“Remember you asked me to let you know if any unique merchandise popped on the grid?”
The grid was a secluded underground network of dealers. Anything that was worth buying could be found on the grid – from the latest brain-frying drugs to stolen Picasso masterpieces. “Yeah, what have you got?”
“Well, I don’t know if that’s of any use but someone is selling some special bullets that do some weird shit.”
Yara froze in place. The atomic bullets. “What kind of weird shit?”
“I don’t know but the seller arranged a meeting with a potential buyer already so we may be too late. Are you interested?”
Fuck yeah!
“Well,” Yara started slyly. “Maybe, but I want to see the goods first. Do you know where the meeting will go down?”
“I’m not sure but my contacts told me that any interested parties should rock up at the Dungeon on Friday night. And instructions will be given then.”
“Fuck!” Yara cursed under her breath, then silently apologized to the kitchen staff who looked at her with appalled faces. Why did the chosen place have to be the only one she had been banned from?
“Yeah, I know,” CJ said sympathetically. “Look, I can see if after Friday the bullets are still around…”
“No!” Yara cut him off. “I
have
to be at this meeting.”
“But you’re banned from the Dungeon, girl, there’s no way they’ll let you in.”
“There must be a way,” Yara replied and opened the fridge to grab a jug of potion for Z. Hmm, there was one missing. She had counted the portions exactly so that she could leave herself a few cabbage-stench-free days. Naiah must have been feeding Z much more than she should. Yara made a mental note to tell Naiah to go easy on the quantities otherwise they’d run out of ingredients before they knew it. “There’s always a way, CJ,” she said, returning her focus to the conversation.
“Well, not when you break the owner’s limbs and threaten to castrate him,” CJ replied reminding her of her little disagreement with the owner of the underground fighting joint a couple of years before.
She ran her hand through her short spiky hair. “It was a long time ago, I’m sure he’d have forgotten by now.”
“Nope, he still hates you,” CJ replied.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because last time I saw him, he told me, and I quote, ‘tell that bitch that I’d rather have my dick removed by raging dogs than to let her in my club again.”
“Well, that can be arranged.”
“Yara…” CJ warned.
“Don’t worry, CJ, I’m not gonna do anything stupid, but I’m serious, I have to be at that club on Friday night. You
have
to find me a way in.”
CJ hesitated on the other line. “I’ve got the list of fighters, Yara. He’s got it all set and ready to bring the house down, not even their current champion was called in this week.”
“So, we’ll just have to make sure a spot is vacated then.” An idea popped into her head. It was crazy and very risky but it was their only way. “Just send me the list and let me do the rest, OK?”
Yara cut the call and hit another button on her speed dial. After several rings, a grumpy Dyam picked it up. “The house better be burning down.”
“I got lead on the bullets,” Yara replied, “get down here, I’ve got a plan.”