Making her way towards the wonderful aroma wafting through the home, Max found herself awed once again by the sheer magnificence of the structure. Not only was the architecture beautiful but so was the décor. Deep rich earthy colours of greens and blues and browns made up the majority of the furnishings and the walls were dotted with a mixture of abstract and realism artworks. It all somehow worked to give the huge open spaces a feeling of warmth and welcome. She followed her nose to the kitchen and determined the wonderful smell was emanating from the stove top where Cali was cooking thick, fluffy pancakes. Max felt her stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten since lunch time the day before. The other woman must have heard her yearning tummy for she turned and waved the spatula in greeting.
“Good morning.”
If she could have a plate of those pancakes then it would be a very good morning indeed, Max thought. So she smiled, “Morning.”
Cali motioned to the coffee machine. “Help yourself. The boys will be in soon. They’re just finishing up their morning run.”
Max didn’t really like coffee but she didn’t want to be rude so she thanked her and made a very weak, heavy on the milk and sugar, mug of the caffeinated beverage. Cali raised her eyebrows at the fourth teaspoon of sugar but didn’t comment. “So you’re in here cooking and doing the woman’s work while the big manly men are outside working on their muscle mass?”
Cali chuckled and shook her head, “Not at all. We work on a roster system. Tuesday’s I do breakfast. Besides, I’ve already had my workout in the weights room.”
Max had noticed the other woman’s incredible physique in what looked to be skin tight yoga shorts and a loose singlet top that had seen better days. Max sighed in envy. Her legs really were endless.
“Are you checking me out?”
Max raised her gaze and shrugged unapologetically, “Maybe.” The bawdy laugh that followed had Max’s own lips twitching. Cali clearly hadn’t taken any offense. She finished with the last of the batter and placed the final pancakes under a covered plate. She picked up her own coffee and tilted her head towards the window behind the sinks.
“You want to check something out? Take a gander at that.”
Max walked over and stood next to the blonde amazon. Her jaw unhinged. Outside were five half-naked, sweaty, panting Gods. All the men were dressed in either tracksuit pants or cotton shorts, running shoes … and nothing else. Clearly they had been exerting themselves as their chests were pumping up and down in a frenzied rhythm, beads of moisture running over corrugated abs only to disappear beneath damp waistbands.
Then they started to stretch.
“Do they do this every day?” She asked absently.
“Yes. Every. Single. Day.” Cali answered, eyes also glued to the erotic show.
“I bet you cook a lot of pancakes.” They looked at each other then and burst into shared laughter. It felt good to laugh and relax. Max had almost forgotten what it was like.
Cali leaned against the sink companionably, “You know, sometimes they come inside like that. Just bypass the shower and sit right down at this table here, naked and sweaty.”
Max held up her hands in a classic ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Please, enough! My heart can’t take anymore.” Cali continued to smile but began to eye her critically and Max had to stop herself from fidgeting under the knowing stare.
“Rough night?” She asked.
Max shrugged casually even though she felt anything but. She knew what Cali saw; too-pale cheeks under black-rimmed blood-shot eyes and a slightly swollen bottom lip. She had cringed when she saw her own reflection in the mirror earlier. The seizures often left her pale and listless for the first twenty-four hours or so. But she didn’t exactly carry an arsenal of make-up with her, it just wasn’t a priority, so there was nothing she could do to fix her appearance. Not wanting to invite further questions, Max replied offhandedly;
“First night in a new bed and all that.” She was saved from additional interrogation by the slamming of a heavy door and a stampede of testosterone. Cali, bless her soul, had not been lying. The men descended
en masse
, no longer breathing hard but still shirtless and damp. Up close like this their bodies looked carved from stone with intriguing dips and valleys that had Max’s fingers tingling with the need to touch. It also had her wishing she hadn’t lost her sketch book when she fled from Budapest. They were such fodder for her graphic novels! She noted that a couple of them had faded tattoos gracing their left forearms, almost as if they had decided to get them removed or something. Max thought it very odd that they were all in the exact same position, although she couldn’t make out the designs they all seemed to be patterns of some sort. She received a series of ‘mornings’ as if her presence was an everyday occurrence.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of coffee-making, table-setting, and pancake-stacking. Max found herself seated at the table between Cali and Axel, her plate covered in bacon, maple syrup and pancakes and was horrified to find herself blinking back tears. She couldn’t even recall the last time she had shared a home cooked meal with people who welcomed her.
“You look like shit.”
Wait, what? Max looked up only to find Ryker staring directly at her. Was he talking to her? “Are you talking to me?”
He nodded and drank down half a bottle of water in one swallow, “Yes. You look like shit.”
Max gasped in outrage. Although she didn’t fancy herself as particularly pretty, she still had enough feminine pride to feel insulted down to her bones. Ignoring the stunned, amused and resigned faces around the table she glared back. “Well you don’t exactly look …” She trailed off feebly as she took in his magnificent chest, chiselled jaw and midnight hair. Damn the man – he was absolutely perfect! Her stupid tongue wouldn’t let her form the lie so instead she went on the defensive. “How do you know I look like shit? You only just met me! For all you know, this is just my face!” She continued, “And will you please put a shirt on? It’s hardly hygienic. I’m trying to eat here!”
Dark eyebrows arched over compelling brown eyes as he smirked and completely ignored her, “What happened to your lip?”
So arrogant!
Max thought. She wanted to smack the arrogance right off his face … and then kiss him all better. What was it about this guy that pushed all her buttons? She’d sooner die than admit that to him of course so she answered sweetly;
“Last night when I went to bed, I thought of you as I pleasured myself. I sank my teeth into my lip in order to stifle my screams of ecstasy.” She turned to Axel who was grinning in appreciation, “I’m thoughtful like that.”
Snickers and good-natured ribbing followed – although Ryker didn’t seem to appreciate her particular brand of humour. Perhaps he had some sort of blunt object shoved up his arse? Maybe she would ask him about it one day. His narrowed gaze suggested that perhaps today was not that day.
“You’re so pale you’re nearly translucent; the bags under your eyes are so black they look like you’ve rimmed them in boot polish; and your hands are shaking so much you can barely hold your fork.” He pointed out emotionlessly. “You’re running on fumes.”
“Well, perhaps if you’d stop insulting me and let me consume this wonderful breakfast, I could put something in the tank.”
Darius, ever the diplomat, jumped into the conversation, “He’s not referring to your diet, although I’m sure you would benefit from a few good square meals. He means your vitality is low. You are worn thin Max.”
Max frowned, “I still don’t understand what you mean by vitality.”
“It’s the energy we paladins produce. To us, it’s a by-product of everyday life – like carbon dioxide is the by-product of breathing. To wardens, it’s the energy needed to upkeep your domain. It’s taxing and you need to replenish it regularly.” Beyden explained helpfully, munching on a pancake.
“And paladins do that by sharing this excess vitality that they produce naturally?” Max recited the information from the previous evening.
“Correct.” Darius said, “You need to use us to recharge yourself.” He held out a tanned arm, “I offer myself freely.”
Max cringed back and held up a hand, “Please, no. You’re going to make me lose my appetite.”
“It’s a natural thing Max.” Lark assured her softly.
She snorted. “Maybe in your world. In my world people don’t go around sucking out other people’s life force.”
“That’s not …” Darius began but Max cut him off.
“Please Darius, can you just drop it? I really appreciate all that you’ve done. But I need baby steps here. An overwhelmed Max does not a happy Max make. Besides,” she continued, “I thought you said yesterday that I was pumping out this vitality in waves? How can I be doing that and yet not have enough at the same time?”
“You were – and still are – leaking vitality. It’s practically seeping from your pores. Your element is probably excessively healthy everywhere you go but it is incredibly draining on you.” Lark answered helpfully.
“I’m leaking?” She couldn’t help scrutinising her body and patting down her arms. “How am I leaking?”
“It’s because you have no control. You’re fucking clueless!”
Ryker’s harsh words were like a bucket of cold water. She pushed her half-eaten plate away, her appetite now completely gone. “Well this fucking clueless woman is no longer your fucking problem.” She stood. “Thank you all again. I truly appreciate it but I think I’ll take my leave now.”
Lark rushed to stand. “You can’t leave Max.”
“No. You definitely can’t leave.” Darius intoned, frowning at Ryker in disapproval.
Max raised her chin, “Actually I can. You’re not the boss of me and you said I wasn’t a prisoner, so …”
Lark touched her arm in comfort even as assured her, “You’re not a prisoner, Max.”
“Absolutely not.” Darius agreed. “You are, however, a warden and you need help, education, and training. You need to be introduced into our society. You need to be taught control, to learn your true potential. You need to form your own Order and bond yourself to your own paladins. It is your birthright.”
“Well, I assume none of that is achievable in the next few minutes?” Max queried. “No? Well then, if you don’t mind I think I’ll go stretch my legs. Maybe leak some more nature-juice out of my eyeballs or something.” And so saying, she marched from the room and out the back door where she took a deep breath and raised her face to the sky.
****
“
You look like shit?
Really Ryker?
You look like shit?
What were you thinking? Have you learned nothing living with me and Diana?” Cali asked furiously.
Ryker had to force himself not to fidget under Cali’s frigid, feminine stare. Hell yes, living with the two female paladins had taught him a lot about how to deal with women. He knew never to ask if it was that time of the month, even if it was. He knew never to say their outfit looked ‘fine’, even if it did. And he definitely knew to never, ever tell them they looked like shit. Glancing around the room he noted the disapproving looks on every face and sighed tiredly. He was fairly ashamed of himself. He hated the look of hurt that had flashed over the warden’s face and he certainly hadn’t wanted to upset her to the point where she stopped eating. He had the feeling she could use all the decent meals she could get.
He had tossed and turned all night, plagued with thoughts and unwanted images of their strange guest. When she had asked to be shown to her room, Ryker wasn’t sure she would even make it up the stairs, she had looked that unwell. He figured a decent night’s sleep and a meal or two would do her wonders – and a vitality exchange of course, not that he planned on volunteering for the task. He wasn’t that thrilled that some of the others had offered the evening before and again today, but he wasn’t officially their Captain so they could do as they pleased. It wasn’t that he wanted the warden to go without such fundamental energy but he just didn’t want it going on in his home. This place was his sanctuary, his refuge, his place of peace and somehow, someway over the years it had become that for the other knights living there too. He intended to maintain his haven for himself and for his fellow soldiers for as long as humanly possible. Having any warden around was not conducive to peace in his opinion and he knew for a fact that this one female warden in particular was going to be a total nightmare.
Having said that, when he had walked in and seen Max standing in his kitchen still pale, still exhausted, and sporting a freshly bruised lip he had seen red. He had wanted to gather her up and kiss her lip. He wanted to feed her and hold her until she felt safe and fell asleep. He just plain wanted to make her all better … and that just plain pissed him off. What was it about the female that managed to barge past his strongly erected barriers with no more than a single look from those incredible eyes of hers? He still knew nothing about her except for the obvious fact that she was a warden. That in and of itself should have had him running in the opposite direction. So instead of voicing his concern over her sick and vulnerable state, he had gone on the offensive and acted like a total prick so no one would suspect his true inclinations.
“Ryker! Are you listening to me?” Cali demanded.
He sighed again, “Yes, Cali. I’m listening. I’m sorry, okay?”
Cali snorted, “It’s not me you need to apologise to. It’s Max.”
Not a chance in hell, Ryker thought to himself. He had a feeling she would like that a little too much. “I’m not apologising to the woman. It was the truth … she does look terrible.”
“She looks terrible because she is running on fumes both physically and emotionally if I’m reading her right. And has been for some time.” Beyden chimed in, pushing his half-eaten plate to the side. Now Ryker knew he was in trouble, Beyden never left a meal unfinished. For a lean guy the man packed away food like it was going out of fashion. He was constantly munching on something from the time he rose in the morning until he crashed at night. Even then, Ryker often heard him up in the middle of the night raiding the refrigerator. Ryker had no idea where he put it all.
Despite being a bottomless pit, he was a good man to have at your back. Ryker had known him for over ten years now and he had been crashing at the camp for almost eight of them. He was soft spoken and humble and didn’t often get involved in the politics of their world. But he was as observant as he was perceptive so when he chose to contribute, Ryker always listened – even if he didn’t want to hear it.