Authors: Unknown
Suckers.
Her respite didn’t last long, though. Jones shook his head awake, pushed off the floor and roared at her. Yara stood her ground, showing him no fear, but then, the unthinkable happened. He started heaving and growing and getting heavier at each breath. Smoke came out of his abnormally enlarged nostrils and two horns emerged from his forehead, at the same time a set of immense wings popped out of his shoulder blades. His eyes turned bright yellow and his skin got covered in thick red fur.
Oh. Fuck.
The Bulldozer was a Lamassu deamon, aka a freaking winged bull.
Her evening was getting more promising by the second.
“Hey! No shifting!” she heard someone yell, but the crowd had gone even more berserk with the promise of a good blood-spilling showdown.
The Lamassu lunged forward. His spike-like teeth glistened with moisture. The ringmaster was giving no indication that he intended to stop the fight, so it was up to her to get her ass out of that cage, and fast. At the same time that Jones lunged at her, she shifted to the right, dodging his attack by a millimeter. Leveraging off the guy’s own weight, she leaped off the ground and landed on his back. He tried to get her off him, but, as she predicted, his arms were much too thick to reach back. She rode him to the left, then to the right, making him lose his balance. In no time, they crashed to the ground.
Advantage #1: neutralized.
While on the ground, the Lamassu couldn’t use his height and length against her.
Next step,
neutralize Advantage #2: his freaking wings.
With her left hand, she quickly pinned one of his arms to her chest, while her right hand locked his elbow out-stretched. She then placed her left foot on his hip, pivoted her body exactly forty-five degrees to the right, then swung her left leg up, wrapped it around the bastard’s neck, and squeezed. The beast tried to fight her off, but the beauty of an arm-bar move is that no matter how big you are, the more you struggle, the more you choke.
Thank you, Brazilian jiu-jitsu!
After a few moments, his limbs lost the strength, went floppy then completely still. He wasn’t dead, Yara knew it for a fact, but the beast was going to enjoy a little nap before waking up with a headache from Hiad.
She took a deep breath and stood up. The crowd replied with applause, whistles and other less-polite noises. Joel was clapping his hands together, his loud laughter adding to the audience’s cheers. Even Dyam’s grim face showed a hint of amusement. She winked at him. He shook his head in disapproval but she noticed his lips curving up in a small smile.
Now all they had to do was find the thief, get the box of bullets and get the hell out of there. As per protocol, she would be taken to the back room to receive her share of the winnings. And as per their plan, she’d use the opportunity to access the secure area and find the bastard thief with the box.
Yara’s eyes perused the room, looking for CJ, but didn’t find him. Instead she met the most amazing grey gaze. Fearless. Powerful. Viral.
Wow.
The pair of eyes belonged to a dark haired, tall man with sharp features and broad shoulders. Even his long sleeved T-shirt wasn’t enough to hide the well-defined muscles underneath.
Again,
wow
. Her panther purred inside.
She frowned.
I know him,
her mind uttered,
but from where?
A tightness curled in her heart, something she’d only felt once before
–
when the Soartas placed her at a crossroads that changed her life forever. Yara blinked, trying to deal with the flood of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her.
Focus! Focus on the mission!
The sound of the cage’s small iron chains opening up reached Yara’s ears. The bookie got inside and gestured for the crowd to shut up. They complied, barely. “This fight is a ‘no contest’!’”
“What?” Yara shouted in utter disbelief.
“It’s not valid.”
“Why?”
“Because shifting and magical tricks are not allowed in my ring.”
“I didn’t use any magic,” she growled between clenched teeth.
“But
he
shifted,” the bookie retorted, pointing at the Lamassu deamon still napping on the floor. “And that’s not allowed.”
Loud cheers mixed with angry curses swamped the house.
“You worthless prick!” Yara shouted. If that weasel thought she’d let him take that win away from her without a fight, he was terribly wrong. She had gone through Hiad to get them inside that club tonight. She was
not
giving up now.
She opened her stance and prepared to give the bookie a piece of her mind, when the fence was suddenly shaken so hard that made both of them stop.
“Let her fight me,” the guy with amazing grey eyes said.
He looked at Yara as if daring her to accept. She glared back at him, and couldn’t stop the low growling from escaping her mouth.
“Let her fight me,” he repeated, louder this time. “And if she wins again, she takes the winnings … from
both
fights.”
There, he’d done it. The crowd stood up and roared, showing their support with whistles, clapping and more obscene proposals. She glared at the mob, unable to mask her annoyance.
Seriously? Every time?
Yara turned back around and faced the owner of the ridiculous idea. “I
won
the fight with honor, no cheating. I deserve my share.”
“And your share you will get,” the bookie said with a sleazy smile. “All you need to do is defeat our champion.”
Champion?
Ai, Apa Dobrý, her night couldn’t get any better.
As if on cue, the crowd cheered again, like the filthy monkeys they were.
Yara quickly searched for Dyam. He wasn’t happy. He ran his tongue over his teeth and shook his head, a clear sign of “don’t you dare accept this.” Joel was right there, too. Murder stamped on his face.
Did she have any choice in the matter? If she backed down from the challenge, they’d never be able to come back to the club – hell, they’d probably be kicked out like rabid dogs and miss out on the chance of retrieving the black box with the last sample of the atomic bullets. No, she couldn’t let Phillip get his hands on that box. If that happened, their entire efforts in London would have been for nothing, and Hiad would break loose. Literally.
Yara exhaled a tired breath. She had no other choice but to agree with fighting this new guy. “Whatever. Just don’t spring any wings or horns when you lose, alright,
champ boy?
” she sneered.
Grey Eyes bowed ceremoniously, then leaped over the grid and landed smoothly in the middle of the ring. The bookie took his cue and quickly made himself scarce.
At close range, Yara was able to scrutinize her new adversary better. He wasn’t handsome in a Hollywood sort of way. His beauty was rough, savage, but very handsome nonetheless.
He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Ai, Apa Dobrý.
Yara’s jaw dropped involuntarily. His broad shoulders and pecs were covered in intricate tattoos. His square jaw carried a delicious stubble, that matched perfectly with his deceivingly disheveled brown hair. There was a
raw
vibe to him that permeated in the air like the amazing scent of dark spices he gave off. And reverberated all the way to her core.
We’ve definitely met before … but where?
That was so not the analysis she needed to be doing right now. She shoved the wanton wonderings back into her subconscious, and focused on planning her fight moves.
He stood imperially on the opposite side of the ring, watching her, but not giving her a hint of opening the tally.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “So are we doing this or what?” she asked.
A lazy, crooked smile played on his lips. “Let’s dance.”
Ai, ai, ai… Yara’s core quivered in response.
She took a few steps to her right, he took a few steps to the left. They circled each other, like two wild animals trapped in a cage – quite literally, at least from her part. He carried himself with easiness despite his broad, solid structure. Yara could clearly distinguish his taut muscles stretch underneath the old jeans at every step he took. He flexed his hands; she rolled her shoulders.
The crowd was getting fidgety, obviously wanting the bloodshed to start, but for some reason, Yara found herself procrastinating. Maybe it was the fact that she needed more time to learn about her opponent, or maybe it was the heat he was stirring inside her. Her panther purred again.
Treacherous cat
. She shook her head to snap her feline inmã out of it. This was not the time or place for her libido to show its face.
Yara took a step forward and threw a high kick with her left leg. Grey Eyes blocked her move with such an ease that disturbed her. He didn’t attack back, though, so she lunged forward again, but this time she pretended to go right, and went left. Her powerful front-kick connected to his ribs. He stumbled sideways but kept his ground.
He cocked a brow at her. “Nice shot,” he said and resumed their dance
–
circling around, slowly, measured.
“Come on!” someone shouted in the crowd.
“Show us some blood already!” another one yelled, and was cheered on by a few others.
“Despite having enjoyed our little tango, Champ, I have someplace else I need to be,” Yara stated, then she shifted her weight onto her right leg and charged a sequence of high kicks, hitting him squarely on the side of his head and shoulder.
He took on the first blows, but managed to block the last ones. Yara slid to the left and threw a double cross punch, followed by an upper-cut that was supposed to connect to that perfectly chiseled chin of his. Before her fist connected to its target, though, Grey Eyes swayed back and grabbed her wrist tightly.
Oh-oh.
He swung her around and trapped her in his arms. Her back glued to his torso.
“Hmm,” he inhaled deeply, “forest leaves after the rain,” he whispered in Yara’s ear, sending hot shivers down her spine.
Her panther stirred inside again. Yara swallowed.
Not the time, traitor, so not the time to get hungry.
Before her turncoat cat outran her sensible reason entirely, Yara lifted her legs and kicked Grey Eyes on the shins. With everything she’d got.
It worked.
He snarled then pushed her away. His shove had been far from harsh, but nonetheless, she stumbled across the ring and bounced off the grid on the opposite side.
She didn’t allow herself a break, though. May the Soartas strike her twice if she underestimated Mr. Charming over there. She turned around and got ready for an attack, but the sight of him massaging his shin with a long face disarmed her completely. He looked like a cute boy moaning about her throwing a ball at him without warning. She bit her cheeks to stop the chuckle from escaping her lips. He looked up and smiled – a crooked, irresistible smile.
Damn him.
He was deliberately trying to charm her. She had seen many fighters go down like that
–
after all it was
her
favorite tactic – and now she was falling for it herself.
She was about to show him two could play that game, when her ears suddenly picked up a strange sound. A high-pitched ticking just underneath her feet.
What in Hiad?
Forgetting the fight altogether, she looked down and saw a few out-of-place wires hanging out of the iron net behind her.
Then the ticking stopped.
Fuck.
“Run!” Yara shouted to Grey Eyes as she leaped upward in the attempt to jump over the fence and get as far away as possible, but the bomb exploded before she could reach the top of the grid.
Her body was flown across the ring, ripping the net apart, then hit the wall on the opposite end. Unable to stop it, she fell heavily to the ground. Before she could recover, the rain of debris came crushing down. She covered her face, in the feeble attempt to protect herself from the several pieces of metal, grid and wood that exploded with the blast. She felt warm liquid flooding her shoulder. Fuck, blood. Pain seared down her arm and torso.
Fuck!
She had to get to cover. She had to stand up and get out of there, right now! She started crawling out. Too late. An unbearable screeching sound numbed her ears. She looked up just in time to see the heavy scoreboard get detached from the ceiling and come crushing down. On her.
And then, there was just darkness.
Chapter Two
A few weeks earlier.
The mansion was finally ready. Blue and white strips of pure silk had been minimalistically placed across the ceiling, forming a cloud of hanging ribbons. Tall vases filled with beautiful Blue Mist flowers trailed along the white carpet, drawing a path from the top of the staircase all the way out to the gardens. Gazing at how it all came together nicely, Yara finally understood why Tardieh had insisted on having the purple-blue blossoms as the main theme for the event. Their unique scent was Zoricah’s most striking attribute, in addition to her golden dragon, of course.
“Let the horde in, Arthur,” she ordered with a ceremonial gesture.
Arthur, Tardieh’s old butler, didn’t seem to have a humorous vein in his body, but deep inside Yara knew he appreciated her silly jokes.
She climbed up the stairs, careful not to ruin her haute-
couture
dress, and rushed into the master bedroom that was their changing room for the night.
“Alright, the guests are here. Come on out,
queen
Z!” she shouted against the bathroom door, emphasizing Zoricah’s soon-to-be title. “Too late to hide now.”
“Yara, please give her a break,” Sam chided her lightly. She was sitting on the royal bed, fastening her dress. “You know how significant this night is for Z.” She walked over and straightened Yara’s long skirt. The flimsy material wasn’t in need of a stretch but it seemed to dance with joy at Sam’s touch. “You look great in this color, by the way.”
“Are you crazy?” Yara snorted. “Bronze dresses so don’t go with my skin tone.”
“But this one does wonders to your curves,” Zoricah said, coming out of the bathroom.
“Aw!” Sam exhaled in awe.
Yara smiled. “Speaking of complimenting one’s figure …”
Z looked absolutely stunning in the amber dress that fitted her like a second skin. Its strapless top was embellished by golden teardrops aligned in an intricate pattern that streamed down along her narrow waist. Her mermaid-style skirt wrapped around her hips then opened out, paying a true tribute to Zoricah’s perfect body.
But something was off. The natural blush that had always enhanced Z’s exotic features and honey-topaz eyes wasn’t there. She looked quite pale actually.
Yara frowned. “Are you OK?” she asked. “I mean, I joked around, but if you’re not feeling well…”
“Would you like some antacid?” Sam offered, looking as worried as Yara felt.
“No, thanks, girls,” Z replied, a bit too weakly. “It’s just nerves. I am getting
married
after all.” She pulled a comic scared face that made them all chuckle.
“Well, in that case,” Yara added, adjusting the back of Zoricah’s dress, “May I say that, despite all the rocky beginning, I think it’s so uber cool that you’re finally tying the knot with Tardieh.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t have found a better man, Z,” Sam agreed.
“Nah, you’re only saying that because Hikuro is your boyfriend, Sam; and you Yara, can’t get enough of Dyam and Joel jonesing over you.”
“Ha! So not true.”
It was so true.
Z and Sam laughed out loud, mocking her. And just like that the good mood was restored to the world.
Zoricah took a long, deep breath. “Right, time to face the crowd.”
And what a crowd. Yara poked her head out on the open mezzanine and did a quick inventory on the hallway below. More than two hundred powerful dignitaries stood in all their glory, calmly waiting for the new queen to come out. They were all there, high-profilers of all races and species in the world – vampires, dracos, fae, deamons, you name it. The band – a quartet of elves from the Northern Forests – was on the corner waiting for her signal. Yara captured the leader’s attention, and nodded. A beautiful violin melody echoed in the vast room.
“It’s time,” Yara said as she positioned herself next to Sam.
“Here, your chalice,” Sam said as she handed Yara a golden goblet.
As per tradition among all sons of Apa Sâmbetei, mating ceremonies were very special. Assisted by her maids, the bride presented the groom with a goblet, which should be then buried by the newly mated couple, to represent the Chalice of Life stolen from Apa Sâmbetei several millennia ago. Z had picked an elegant golden goblet adorned by five delicate symbols and five white ribbons, symbolizing Apa Dobrý
–
the five Gods, creators of life on Earth and the Universe.
Yara gave Z one last hug. “Ai, Apa Dobrý, this
is
the beginning of a new era, isn’t it?” Z’s embrace tightened around her and she felt a large knot lodge itself in her throat. The second verse of music started. “Ok, that’s our cue,” she said pulling away, while trying to hold back her tears.
“You look absolutely fabulous,” Sam told Z, then she gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Like a true queen.”
Zoricah smiled. She was obviously nervous but her eyes glowed with excitement.
As rehearsed, Yara descended the Hollywood-style stairway alongside Sam, who was carrying the ceremonial cloth, while Yara, the silver dagger. At the bottom, they both bowed low in front of Tardieh and took their places on the right hand side, in front of Hikuro, Joel and Dyam. The four vampires all looked very sharp in black tuxedos and matching shirts. Tardieh wasn’t Yara’s type, but by Apa Dobrý he looked gorgeous in that three-piece tuxedo, made of a single-breasted, button-less jacket, black trousers and topaz-colored cravat. Nice.
The band changed the tune and the first chords of the classic “Con te Partiro” echoed in the room. Literally meaning "With you I will leave”, this song had always been Zoricah’s “happy place” and very fitting to their love story, given that Z and Tardieh first met 200 years ago when she rescued him from a draconian prison.
Yara heard Tardieh hold his breath and allowed herself to break protocol and steal a quick look in his direction. The vampire king looked imperial as always, but there were so many emotions oozing out of him that it took Yara aback. Anticipation, happiness, excitement, even a bit of fear was stamped in his face. His attention was glued to the top steps of the stairs.
This was it
, Yara thought. The big moment.
A collective “Aww” resounded in the room when Zoricah’s tall figure appeared in between the two pillars on the second-floor mezzanine. Yara had helped her pick the dress a few weeks back and get changed earlier in the evening, but nonetheless, when she saw Z at the top of those stairs, looking all stunning and elegant, she was lost for words. Actually one word came to mind
–
Goddess. Not demigoddess,
Goddess
. She heard a soft sniff next to her. She turned and saw Hikuro handing his hanky to Sam.
More than 400 eyes watched Zoricah gracefully saunter down the stairs and pause in front of Tardieh. She bowed low in reverence then offered him the golden chalice with both hands.
“In Apa Sâmbetei we were born, to Apa Sâmbetei we will return,” she recited the sacred words.
“In Apa Sâmbetei we were born, to Apa Sâmbetei we will return,” Tardieh repeated then captured the chalice from her hands and offered her his arm.
They walked out through the massive front doors, side by side, guiding the guests to the garden, where a beautiful gazebo had been set up as the centerpiece of the open air dining room. From that angle, the royal mansion looked like a great medieval fortress. Completely built of stone, it had more than 10 bedrooms across the three separate wings. But the place Yara loved the most was the vast garden, where the great New York City could be admired from above.
Tardieh entered the marquee and went down on his knees, then he offered his hand to help Zoricah do the same, but his bride didn’t take it. Tardieh froze in place, his face going white with worry. Z lifted a wicked eyebrow at him, as if saying “Are you sure?”
Yara had to bite the insides of her cheeks so not to burst into laughter.
Tardieh gave her a knowing look as if answering “I’m surprised you even have to ask.” A relaxed grin lifted Zoricah’s features, and she took Tardieh’s hand then knelt by his side, facing the audience.
Sam stepped forward and handed Tardieh the ceremonial cloth made of pure silk. Then it was Yara’s turn to hand Zoricah the silver dagger. She raised it above her head and proclaimed the ancient words, “
From Apa Dobrý we rise, for Apa Dobrý we fall
…”
Then in a swift movement she lowered her hands just above the chalice Tardieh was holding and opened a cut on her left palm. Red droplets of blood fell into the gold goblet.
Tardieh mirrored his bride’s actions, filling the cup with his own blood, then lifted the chalice for all to see, but instead of uttering the ancient vow to the audience, as per tradition, he turned to his wife-to-be. “I vow never to forsake thee, never to betray thy trust. I pray for the five Gods, creators of the universe to allow me to gaze upon thy eyes for an eternity of true glory. My future, my past, my joy and my pain, are now yours to retain.”
Holy Apa Dobrý. Yara’s jaw dropped ten feet.
Tardieh leaned over and kissed Zoricah on the lips. So not what they had rehearsed. Low mumbling and surprised gasps echoed around.
Way to go, Tardieh!
Tradition dictated that the king had to proclaim his official vow facing the audience, thus confirming his loyalty to his royal benefactors, not to his queen – women were mere pawns in the ancient chess-game of sovereigns. But by saying his vows to Z, Tardieh had openly defied conventions and had decimated any doubts of where his heart truly was. Never had Yara seen such public demonstration of true love and devotion – especially from the all-powerful King.
That damned vampire was going to make her cry.
Z gently broke the kiss but didn’t pull away entirely. She rested her forehead on Tardieh’s, instead, and whispered his words back to him. It was such an intimate way of taking the sacred vow that Yara felt like a voyeur intruding on a couple’s most cherished moment. She quickly wiped the tears that insisted in rolling down her cheeks. Those two were ruining her makeup.
After a few more seconds of forehead-to-forehead bonding, the royal couple straightened up in unison, lifted the chalice and sipped on their combined blood. The ritual was to remind all supernatural creatures of the glorious days where they all lived in piece in Apa Sâmbetei. Zoricah then took the goblet, enveloped it with the silk cloth Yara gave her, and handed it to Tardieh with both hands. After taking what she offered, the king knelt down and lifted a small patch of grass on the ground, then laid the wrap in the hole. After sealing it back in place, he pushed off the floor and stood up. Imposing. Regal. Then, he offered his hand to Zoricah, who placed her hand in his and rose by his side.
Yara, just like the other 200-plus guests, went down on her knees and bowed to the new King and Queen of Vampires.
**********
Yara sighed heavily as she slumped on her chair. Her feet hurt, her neck was as tight as a rope and her cheeks ached from having to smile at the many VIP guests for the past three hours. It had been quite a mission to organize the wedding of the century. Fair enough, Yara and Sam weren’t professional wedding planners, but they had had their share of Christmas parties at Sam’s rehabilitation institution, and an occasional birthday bash. But nothing would have prepared her for so many “dietary requirements” and “special requests”! The vampires could only have blood, of course, but some of them would only consume a
specific
type. The fae people were notorious vegetarians, but to Yara’s astonishment, a lot of them were actually “crucifero-bras” – a type of vegan that only ate a kind of lettuce from the tropical islands.
What the fuck?
Thank Apa Dobrý for Sam and her infinite patience. She dealt with them all and just told Yara what to buy. Yara had been basically the delivery boy the entire time.
“Wow, if I have to laugh at one more lame joke, my cheeks are gonna fall off,” Sam threatened, arriving from her “rounds”.
To ensure they gave proper attention to every VIP present, Sam had come up with a plan of splitting them into shifts. Every hour two of them would circulate around the garden and check on all the guests. And the “them” included Yara, Joel and Dyam as well.
“You think
that
was boring?” Yara snorted. “Wait until what comes next.”
“Oh, no,” Dyam mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Speeches?”
“Yep,” Yara agreed grimly. “Speeches.”
“So that’s my cue,” Joel said, already standing up from his spot at the royal table. “See you all later.”
“Oh, no you’re not, brother,” Hikuro replied. “If we have to endure this torture, so do you.”
Joel mumbled something like “oh, man,” but complied. Yara smiled. She had noticed Joel checking out a few girls and knew he was probably dying to start the
real
party.
Sam snuggled closer to Hikuro. “I love it when you get tough, baby,” she joked, nuzzling on her man’s neck.
Hikuro, being Tardieh’s official second in command and known for his stone face, did what he did best when Sam teased him – he glanced at her, acknowledged her joke, then looked away.