The Darkening
Author: Caris Roane
Date: 2013-02-11 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal Romance; Paranormal; Vampires; Romance; Fantasy; Contemporary; Adult
Description: A tortured warrior and a peace-loving counselor battle to protect Second Earth against a powerful dark force… He thwarted connection of any kind… Fearing that his newly emerged grayle power will kill innocent ascenders, Samuel Daman struggles to keep his distance from beautiful Vela Stillwell. But the breh-hedden has struck and her light floral scent tears at his restraint. When the enemy draws them both into the darkening, a place of secret travel for Third ascenders, will Samuel learn to control his power, or will he destroy what he desires most? She hid from grief… Vela Stillwell wanted a n

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

ASCENSION TERMINOLOGY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The Darkening

A Dawn of Ascension NOVELLA

Plus Ascension Terminology

Based on The Guardians Of Ascension Series

By Caris Roane

The Darkening

Copyright © 2013 Caris Roane

All rights reserved. No part of this e-Book may be reproduced in whole or in part, scanned, photocopied, recorded, distributed in any printed or electronic form, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

E-book conversion by Bella Media Management.

Also by Caris Roane

Novels

Guardians of Ascension Series

Ascension

Burning Skies

Wings of Fire

Born of Ashes

Obsidian Flame

Gates of Rapture

Novellas

BRINK OF ETERNITY, Dawn of Ascension Series

EMBRACE THE DARK, Blood Rose Series

WICKED NIGHT, Amulet Series

Coming Soon!

RAPTURE’S EDGE, Dawn of Ascension Series

EMBRACE THE MAGIC, Blood Rose Series

BORN IN CHAINS, Warriors in Chains series

* * *    * * *    * * *

Dear Reader,

THE DARKENING picks up one month after the events in GATES OF RAPTURE, the sixth full-length novel of my Guardians of Ascension series.  For a long time now, I’ve wanted to continue the series about the Militia Warriors, which I started in BRINK OF ETERNITY with Warrior Gideon and Elise.

The designation … Dawn of Ascension … helps to set the Militia Warrior stories apart from the main novels and the Warriors of the Blood, although in THE DARKENING, we watch the two groups interact and evolve, a theme in all the Guardians of Ascension stories.

Writing and creating an epic world, like ascending dimensional earths, has become one of the finest experiences of my life and I’ve made it my personal mission in these stories to show the full scope of life experience, though through the eyes of the winged vampire warrior and his woman or breh.

Endelle … a favorite among my fans … continues to play a prominent role in the Dawn of Ascension novellas in part because one day I fully intend to tell her story!

For more information about all things CARIS ROANE, visit me at: www.CarisRoane.com

For lots of Facebook fun, you can find me posting frequently on my timeline. I also encourage my fans to post.  Facebook search: Caris Roane

Prior to writing sensual paranormal romance, I wrote sweet Regency Romance for Kensington Publishing Corp., and was fortunate to publish almost 50 Regency novels and novellas during that time under the pseudonym, Valerie King. In 2005, Romantic Times Magazine honored me with a Career Achievement Award in Regency Romance.

I’ve been blessed to write romance all these years.

I hope you enjoy, THE DARKENING!

Blessings,

Caris Roane

Vampire.

A most sacred mantle lost to the desecration of those who partake of dying blood.

Vampire.

Keep thyself pure.

— Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter One

Near dawn, Samuel Daman dragged air into his lungs, each breath like fire as he surveyed the Superstition battlefield. He’d been fighting death vampires for hours, like the rest of the Militia Warriors.

Sweat trickled from beneath his weapons harness and down his back. Blood seeped in a few places as well since one or two swords had caught skin.

He was a fucking mess.

But the death vampires kept coming, floating through the dimension on arctic air, fresh and ready to fight, dozens of them hour after hour.

He’d never seen so many pretty-boys at a Borderland before, which meant of course that the chaos left over from Darian Greaves’s defeat in recent weeks, had turned up the heat. Maybe it was a good thing to have the Commander out of the way, but his generals had hauled the remnants of his army into pre-planned hiding places before Thorne, in charge of the Allied Ascender Forces, had been able to run them to ground.

Chaos now ruled Second Earth.

The fucking war was still game on.

At the very least, the current engagement required another eight squads of Militia Warriors. Thirty-two trained men. But what the situation really needed was another Warrior of the Blood who could handle up to eight pretty-boys at a time. Eight, while a squad of four Militia Warriors struggled to slay just one.

He extended his vampire vision and in the distance saw that Warrior Santiago battled – holy shit – thirteen death vamps, way beyond capacity even for a powerful What-Bee. Santiago fought with his back to the immense monolith of the Superstition Mountains, a Latin God in the moonlight, his sword moving like a silver streak of lightning.

Samuel whipped his warrior phone from the slim pocket of his leather fighting kilt and thumbed over the surface. He kept his sword at the ready and turned in a slow circle keeping his eye sharp for more trouble.

“Central Command, Jeannie here. How can I help, Warrior Samuel?” He served as back-up to Section Leader Nathaniel. He didn’t like the job, but right now what anyone liked didn’t matter.

He explained the situation, that he needed another eight reserve squads called in and another Warrior of the Blood to the Superstitions on the double.

“Done.” He almost smiled as he thumbed his phone. The women at Central could handle anything. And no argument.

He took one last look at the field. The Militia squads were holding their own so he knew where he needed to go.

One problem remained:  if he didn’t release his dark power on the battlefield right now, something he never did because of the unpredictable qualities of his power, how the hell was he supposed to support Santiago? In his current state, if even three death vamps turned on him, he’d be dead.

Yet he’d vowed never to allow that power to flow again, because the part he couldn’t control forged random streams of killing energy, a terrible phenomenon that had happened a year ago, the day of his escape from a decade of captivity and torture.  During his escape, launched by Warrior Duncan, Samuel’s streaming power had taken several innocent lives.

That he’d killed his captors hadn’t troubled his conscience even a little, but he still saw the faces of those guiltless men who had died despite his most strenuous efforts to corral the power and stop the deadly streams. They lived in his mind’s eye, hunched men, little better than slaves, who had cleaned his cell, bathed him while he was strung up in those heinous ropes, and who had fed him. More than once, one of those slaves had offered him a vein, which he’d taken greedily, as blood-starved as he’d been.

Their deaths lived like a terrible fire in his soul and for that reason alone he held back.

He flexed his sword in his hand, his gaze fixed on Santiago. The warrior’s situation hadn’t improved and back-up still hadn’t arrived.

Slowly he started to cross the desert in his direction. With thirteen pretty-boys still harassing him, and not one having yet fallen, it would only be a matter of time. Shit, a single misstep on the What-Bee’s part, and he’d be dead.

Samuel needed to release his dark power, but if he did, would Santiago get caught in one of those terrible, uncontrollable energy streams?

He heard Santiago give a shout, calling for back-up.

Samuel couldn’t remember the last time a Warrior of the Blood had called for back-up.

If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t at least try, a Warrior of the Blood would die tonight and it would be on his head for eternity.

He’d just run out of choices.

Settling into himself as much as he could, he reached deep into his soul, the place where he’d found all that power, that had helped him escape a decade of torture.

With his chin low to his chest, and his gaze fixed on Santiago, he allowed the power to take him over, to rise in a dark, possessive tide, up and up, building an excess of strength into every limb until his quads twitched, his biceps flexed, and his molars ground against each other.

The darkness moved straight up, invading his body, searing his muscles, power that didn’t belong in this ascended world, not on Second Earth at least. No, this had always felt like something greater, like a Third Earth manifestation.

And with the power, a smoky mist rose from his body, a dark thin cloud that swirled around him.

More power followed and the bloodied sword in his right hand no longer felt heavy from tedious hours of battling, but became light as a feather.

He held his position, however, waiting to see if the deadly streams of energy flowed from him. If they made even the smallest appearance, he’d fold himself to the middle of the desert in order to keep from killing his brothers-in-arms.

But he felt nothing as he had the night of his escape, when rage had flooded his heart and mind and delivered up this power for the first time.

In fact, he felt in control of what now possessed him and when Santiago shouted again, Samuel made his decision.

The time had come.

He folded three feet behind the arc of the black-winged bastards that kept Santiago pressed against the mountain wall.

“Hey, assholes,” he called out.

Two of the pretty-boys turned around, a big mistake for one of them. Santiago, who had battled at Warrior of the Blood level for most of his life, took advantage of Samuel’s move and drove his sword straight through the death vampire’s kidneys, sending his shriek into the air and his body lurching forward into cactus and dirt. Without missing a beat, Santiago returned to battling the rest of them, his sword once more moving in swift slices.

The second death vamp offered Samuel a slow smile and in any other situation, he’d have reason to fear the significantly more powerful death vampire. A big motherfucker, this one definitely carried more muscle mass, though he matched Samuel’s six-five height.

But Samuel knew his strength, so he smiled in return, which gave the bastard a moment’s pause before he engaged.

Samuel’s sword met steel, the strike sending a heavy vibration up his right arm. He countered, and smiled as the pretty-boy took a step back. The death vampire was incredibly beautiful with long dark hair, a porcelain complexion, and an aligning of features that eventually made him and all his murdering kind look alike.

Purpose?

Enthrallment, of course.

Bastards.

The death vampire finally lost all his good-humor and came back enraged that he’d lost his easy victory. He even whistled for back-up.

Samuel’s turn to smile. “Can’t do this alone? Bring it, pretty-boy.” The nickname sent color at last into the death vamp’s oh-so-lovely complexion as well as a series of reckless moves.

A few seconds later, as Samuel continued to match his slices and thrusts, one of his fellow vamps joined him.

Samuel kept summoning the dark power and his muscles filled with all that incredible strength. He gave it free rein because these bastards needed to die. Death vampires drank the innocent to death in order to get at the euphoric nature of dying blood.

He folded, spun, and caught one of the death vamps straight across the hamstrings so that the pretty-boy dropped to his knees.

Just as the other turned to engage, Samuel folded again, but instead of landing on earth, he materialized in the air above his enemy, something rare in his world. He brought his dagger from his weapons harness into his left hand and as he came down on the vamp, drew the sharp blade in a clean cut across his throat.

Samuel folded once more, spinning mid-dematerialization then reappearing behind two death vamps still battling Santiago. The rest of the action became a blur of cutting tendons, running slices through wing-locks, and of course taking off the oh-so-beautiful heads of his enemy.

He breathed hard when the last headless corpse leaked blood over the dirt. He stood with arms wide, sword up, still on alert as his gaze searched for the enemy high in the air and into every crevice of the monolith.

“Samuel? Is that you, hermano?”

He heard his name and spun in Santiago’s direction. A metallic smell coated the dusty desert air.

The famous warrior looked at ease, wiping his blade down with a cloth he’d folded into his hand. His sword had a ruby set in the center of the cross-guard.

“Fuck,” Samuel spit. He’d meant to get the hell out of there before Santiago took stock of him, but the battle had kicked his fighting rage into high gear and all he could think about was being ready for the next round.

Santiago drew his thin warrior phone into his hand and called for clean-up. When he ended the call, he said, “Close your eyes.”

Samuel dropped his lids and a flash told him that Jeannie had orchestrated a full scale removal of disconnected debris including corpses, body parts, and blood. The process took only a couple of seconds, so yes, Central had power. He popped his eyes open and here was one miracle of their world, that they now had technology to leave a pristine desert behind after a battle.

“When were you going to show Luken this power of yours? Or Jean-Pierre? Right now I’m not sure which brother will be more angry with you.” Santiago still had a Spanish accent, even after several centuries, something that tended to stick for all ascenders, depending on place of birth. Santiago was from Mortal Earth Spain a few hundred years ago.

“Never.” Samuel’s voice sounded rougher than usual. His power had that effect.

He turned, ready to fold someplace else, away from the battle site in order to resume his natural state, but back-up had finally arrived.

Luken, the leader of the Warriors of the Blood, stood beside Jean-Pierre and both men glared at him.

“I’m not doing this,” Samuel said, meeting Luken’s gaze dead on. “You can’t have this ability for your Warrior of the Blood shit.”

Samuel had been a Militia Warrior, a Thunder God Warrior, almost from the day of his ascension to Second Earth in 1908. He didn’t want to leave behind the men who had held his loyalty all these decades. Besides, he couldn’t always control his dark power and more than anything he feared hurting or killing someone, other than the enemy, by using it as a weapon on a regular basis.

“You may not get a say in this,” Luken said. Built like a tank, he led the What-Bees, as the Warriors of the Blood were known among the Militia Warriors.

He had blue eyes and long blond hair, extra-long like all the What-Bees, and caught back in the required clasp called the cadroen. Women followed him around the Blood and Bite, taking care of his needs with little more than a snap of his fingers.

Samuel opened his mouth to explain, but Jean-Pierre, usually good-natured, stepped toward him and got right in his face. “You goddamned motherfucker!” The words sounded so strange spoken in his French accent. “All these months that I have worked with the Militia Warriors, seeking to build up those with exceptional power, but you never said a word to me or anyone else. I suppose not even to Duncan, who is your friend and who helped you escape.”

“Don’t blame Duncan. He knew, but he understood my reasons.”

“Fuck those reasons. Merde, how many times did I speak to your section and ask if any warrior had an emerging power that he wanted brought forward, developed? And this is what you have had all the time? Were you laughing at me, warrior?”

“No. Fuck, no.” Samuel took a step back, horrified that Jean-Pierre would accuse him of such a thing.

“I am pissed past speaking the words!” Jean-Pierre’s nostrils flared. “How could you have held back this tremendous power that I have just witnessed, so dark and so beautiful, like a flow of smoke and mist around you? Or do you not understand that even though Greaves is gone, we still have a terrible war threatening our entire world?” He grunted his exasperation and without waiting for a response, he lifted his right arm and vanished.

Samuel turned to meet Luken’s gaze, wanting to explain, but the usually affable warrior shook his head, and muttered, “You’ll be hearing from us.” He also lifted his arm, the signal for a fold, and vanished.

Samuel stood very still, distressed that he hadn’t been given a chance to explain. The warriors viewed him as having let down the war effort, but he knew what he risked each time he released the dark power.

And how the hell could Jean-Pierre have described it as beautiful?

As his dark power began to recede, and the attending smoky mist that came out of his body, evaporated, Samuel pivoted to glare at Santiago. He waited for the warrior to say something, and so he did. “Incoming.”

The air turned arctic and Samuel shifted his gaze to the night sky as another eight more death vampires descended out of the inter-dimensional trough, that nether-space between dimensions, sent by a Second Earth general of vast power.

“Hermano,” Santiago said. “You probably should summon that bad-shit of yours again because I have one slight problemo.” He pivoted to show Samuel the deep skin burn he had along the back of his left calf. The warriors, Militia or otherwise, called any cut a skin burn, unless it incapacitated movement. Blood still seeped from Santiago’s wound, trickling down his calf and into his leather battle sandal.

Samuel reached down deep and once more let the darkness come. As the bastards landed in the dirt, all fresh and ready to go, he added, “Bring it, assholes.”

Santiago offered him a smile, full of white teeth. He looked back at the first beautiful death vampire and jerked a thumb in Samuel’s direction. “What mi hermano said.”

* * * * * * * * *

Vela Stillwell sat straight up in bed and planted a palm between sweat-slickened breasts.

A nightmare that wasn’t a nightmare.

She set a stream of curses rippling the air and leaving behind tiny little fireworks—one of her more exalted powers that she kept hidden. Normally, the sparkling lights made her smile, but right now she was pissed as hell.

She didn’t want this, more power than she’d ever asked to have and a connection to another Militia Warrior.

She didn’t know the man in her dreams, but he had a darkness about him that both frightened her and left her feeling weak in a womanish way, like she wanted to be with him, wanted to be under him.

The vision, or whatever it was, had taken place in the desert and the warrior had been battling out at the Superstitions. He’d helped out a Warrior of the Blood, the super-sexy Santiago that had half the women at HQ racing to the workout center whenever it was known he would be running sword drills with the Thunder God Warriors.

Vela avoided the workout center.

The last thing she wanted was to hook up with another warrior. She’d loved and lost a man of the sword and she couldn’t go through it again. So, when the women at lunch got to talking about who looked particularly hot in a battle kilt these days, she’d usually make an excuse and head back to her desk early, on the opposite side of the building, where she worked crunching numbers, paying invoices, and reviewing purchase orders.

She’d been widowed five years now, but it still felt like yesterday since Jeff was killed in the line of duty, while battling death vampires at the Awatukee Borderland.

Waking up, therefore, with weird dreams about a warrior she didn’t know, but who appealed to her in an erotic, primal way, chapped her hide especially since today would be her last day at HQ.

She’d finally decided to leave the Apache Junction Two compound so she wouldn’t have to be around the whole Militia Warrior camp. She wanted a fresh start and next week she’d take up her new job as a counselor at the rehab center where she’d be working with Fiona, Warrior Jean-Pierre’s mated breh, helping to rehabilitate former blood slaves.

She checked her bedroom clock. It was already half past five. She got up and worked out for an hour, something she’d done since Jeff died. The exertion kept her sane.

She dressed in her usual dark slacks, light blue silk blouse, and low heels. She let her unruly, and very thick, long blond hair flow free, ignoring all the errant curls, letting the uncontrolled mass be a sign of the change to come, that after today she’d begin a new, less restricted life.

She folded to the HQ landing platforms, on time as usual, and went to work, sitting in her office and processing purchase orders for all kinds of weaponry, uniforms, and electronic equipment. Over the past several weeks, the latter had become an almost constant stream of acquisitions for Warrior Thorne, the Supreme High Commander of the Allied Ascender Forces. He’d set up a working HQ, a Command Center, at Madame Endelle’s palace during the time preceding the battle at White Lake that saw Greaves’s defeat, and he’d continued building up his operations since.

Now, apparently, he had a new set of problems.

Vela always got a headache thinking about the turn in the war. What had begun as a great victory and celebrated throughout the world as a resounding defeat had already taken on the shape of a nightmare. Three of Greaves’s generals, as a contingency plan to his failure to win his mano-a-mano battle against Madame Endelle, had essentially taken their master’s army, hiding over three-hundred-thousand troops each, which added up to almost a million warriors, and had subsequently begun launching guerilla-like attacks against Thorne’s AAF.

The body count among the Thunder God Warriors had hit numbers that forced her to avoid certain websites and newsfeeds.

She couldn’t get away from all of this chaos soon enough.

She glanced at her computer and saw that it was now ten-after-five. She was officially done and could say adios to HQ forever.

Yes, a new life awaited her and she chomped at the bit to get started.

Of course, she only had three purchase orders left to process, and since she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the task undone, she kept working. What was twenty more minutes?

But as she prepared to print-out a hard copy of a particularly troublesome document, she heard a familiar group-giggling sound and she smiled.

Her time was up.

“Shut it down, Ascender Vela. You no longer work here.”

She looked up and saw her three closest friends, looking young and chic, grouped in her doorway. She loved her world that at least two of her friends were over a hundred but didn’t look a day past thirty. Sweet.

As she did a double-take, she realized each wore a silly grin.

Suspicion set in.

“All right, what’s going on?” she called out. She closed the last file and signed off. Despite that her friends were clearly up to something, a deep sigh of relief left her. Her tour of duty at Militia Warrior HQ was officially over.

She stood up and grabbed her purse.

“Well, we’re definitely taking you out for drinks,” Donna said. “But first, have we got a surprise for you.”

“Really?” She grinned. “I hope it involves a cake with that really bad-for-you, sugary-white frosting, because I’m in.”

When she reached the door, Bev and Chris flanked her left side, and Donna, who shared HQ grid-work with Bev, took her right.

“This has nothing to do with that kind of cake,” Donna said. “But it is cake, if you get my drift.”

“As in beefcake,” Chris drawled.

Vela stalled out and couldn’t make her feet move. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to the workout center.” Anything but that.

“Oh, yes we are,” Bev said. “We’ve heard it on the grapevine that someone special is being brought in, a warrior we’ve been hearing rumors about for the past several months but have never seen. He’s the one Duncan helped rescue from that weird prison cell in Honduras Two, where he’d been tortured.” She lowered her voice. “Apparently, he did something last night out at the Superstition Borderland that has all the What-Bees in an uproar. For one thing, he really pissed off Warrior Luken and you know how good-natured he is.”

Vela started getting that really bad feeling that Bev’s description matched the man from her nightmare and her heart rate cranked up a notch. What if this was him? What if she walked into the workout center and there he was? Wouldn’t it mean something? Wouldn’t the preternatural nature of the situation demand that she do something?

Her heart sank. She didn’t want a connection with another warrior, not any kind of connection.

“Please, can’t we skip this? In fact, why don’t we all go out to dinner? I have a friend who works at the White Lake Resort Colony. I’m sure I can get us into any number of restaurants over there.”

“Hell, no,” Donna said, as Chris and Bev nudged her along. “Before you leave HQ permanently, we want you to enjoy a bit of eye-candy, because, girl, locked away in the rehab center, you’re going to die of man-starvation. At least here at HQ, you get to see Militia Warriors coming and going, but there? You’ll be lucky to see a man once a decade.”

Which was exactly what she wanted.

She took a deep breath. “Fine.” She only had to get through the next half hour or so then she’d never be back here, never be tempted by something she really, really, didn’t want in her life.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel woke up from the night’s battling with an urgent message from Carla, who worked the daytime shift at Central, to get his ass over to the workout center. Essentially the higher ups had their panties in a wad about what went down at the Superstitions last night and wanted to chat with him.

And Endelle would be there.

Which of course meant that Thorne would be on deck as well.

Yeah, he was pretty much screwed.

Shit.

He shaved and showered as fast as he could, but he ached from head-to-foot. Releasing the dark power had forced him to work a whole bunch of muscles he swore he’d never used before. Even his speedy vampire healing had taken its sweet time fixing things up.

Santiago met him at the landing platforms, a smirk on his lips.

“Why the workout center?” Samuel knew that crowds often gathered to watch Jean-Pierre train the Militia Warriors who had emerging powers. He so didn’t want to be there, on display. Jesus.

But Santiago slung his arm around Samuel’s neck, squeezed, then laughed at him. “Thorne wants a demonstration. Besides, that much power, hermano? We need you on board and Thorne will have your cojones if you don’t join up.”

“Fuck.”

“Si. Mucho fuck.”

This time, Samuel laughed. He took long strides and Santiago joined him. They both wore flight battle gear, getting ready to head out for the night. He also knew that Santiago often stopped off at the Blood and Bite first, meeting up with the What-Bees before a night of battle. Hell, he might even head there himself. After facing off with Thorne, he’d probably need a drink afterward and definitely some action in the red velvet booths.

As he reached the doorway of the workout center, Luken waved him over. The leader of the What-Bees stood with Thorne, Madame Endelle, and Jean-Pierre.

But if that wasn’t bad enough, a combination of civilians and warriors now packed all four risers that ran the length of the west wall. He’d never been to the center himself during office hours, but he’d heard tales that once Warrior Jean-Pierre had started working with the Militia Warriors, some of the civilian staff at HQ, and an equal number of warriors took time out to watch the training sessions. “Are there usually this many people at the workouts?”

“No, hermano. This is all for you.”

“Shit.” So the rumors had been rolling. Great.

Neither Colonel Seriffe nor Gideon were present since their current joint duties included running mass Militia Warrior training exercises in North Africa. Extensive surveillance had delivered up the strong possibility that one of Greaves’s generals had a base of operations out there.

Luken’s grim expression didn’t help. The brother generally had a calm disposition. But not right now.

Thorne glared at Samuel, his arms crossed over his chest. Though he spent most of his time at the palace Command Center, he still wore flight battle gear.

Jean-Pierre ground his molars and didn’t make eye contact.

Endelle stared at him with raised brows, clearly more curious than pissed. She wore a typical, off-the-rails outfit, this time with some kind of sheer tunic that hung to her knees, covered on top by a massive necklace around her throat that descended almost to her waist, made up of hundreds of small spiral white seashells. Snug leopard pants showed through the tunic. Her black stiletto boots gave her several inches on Thorne. And to top it off, literally, she wore a crown made up of electric-blue, bird feathers and some kind of fuzzy yellow thing in the middle. Vintage, Endelle. She looked perpetually ready for mardis gras.

But as he passed by the risers, his steps slowed. A funny kind of scent wafted in his direction, very light and floral, even sweet. Perfume, maybe. And somewhere in the back of his head he knew that scent, as though nothing more important existed. He might even have stopped but the fragrance faded so he continued his march.

Given the audience, he hoped Luken intended to take the conversation to the conference room, but the moment he drew within fifteen feet, Thorne started in. “What the hell have you got to say for yourself, warrior, that you would hold back this kind of power, when you know how desperately we need Warrior of the Blood capacity right now? Santiago gave a full report before turning in early this morning. What the fuck?”

“The power I have,” Samuel stated as forcefully as he could, “isn’t stable. When it first emerged, it killed several innocent men, slaves I think. And I only allowed it out last night because it was either that, or watch those pretty-boys swamp Santiago.” He frowned. “And despite the fact that I felt in control, which is something I freely admit, I also know that there’s an uncontrollable side to whatever the hell this is. I don’t want anybody else dead because of it. And that’s the goddamn truth!”

Thorne rubbed a hand over his brow. “Okay, that’s reasonable answer. But, shit, we need you.”

“I know that,” he said quietly.

“When did this power emerge?” Endelle asked.

His gaze shifted away from her, away from all of them. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to remember. He took a deep breath. “While I was hanging from ropes in that prison cell in Honduras Two. That’s one reason I’ve never trusted this power. It’s dark, it came from my hatred of my torturers.”

Endelle shook her head a couple of times. “Listen up, warrior.” She angled her thumb toward Jean-Pierre. “You need to put yourself in JP’s hands, and start trusting some of the What-Bees, that maybe they’d be able to handle this dark-ass power of yours and help you gain control of the rest of it.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she shushed him. “Ch-ch-ch! Not a word, asshole. You’ve been holding out and we’re all pissed as hell. We’ve got a full-blown war on our hands and the Borderlands have expanded with activity every goddamn night. So, this isn’t a discussion. You will work with Jean-Pierre and you will like it. Do we understand each other?”

He nodded. “Yes, Madame Endelle.”

“Good. Now someone tell him about Duncan. I’m outta here.” She lifted her arm, and much to everyone’s dismay she folded straight out of room, which set the alarms shrieking. Luken already had his phone to his ear and a few seconds later, the alarms shut down. No one folded in or out of Militia HQ, without express permission, except by way of the multiple landing platforms.

Once his ears stopped ringing, he focused his attention on Luken. “What about Duncan?” The warrior was one of Samuel’s few good friends and had helped him to escape his captivity a year ago.

Luken met his gaze squarely. “Duncan’s missing. We don’t know where he is, or what happened to him. He disappeared while battling at the New River Borderland two nights ago. There’d been so many teams folding in and out of the space that it took almost twenty-four hours before we concluded he’s now MIA.”

“What?” Samuel’s chest tightened. “But how the fuck is that possible?” Duncan was an extremely powerful Militia Warrior and one of two dozen who had been working with Jean-Pierre to bring his What-Bee powers on line. In recent weeks, Duncan had confided that he’d been having visions, similar to those Elise Jordan experience, but he’d know more in the coming months.

Samuel hadn’t seen him in over a week since Duncan’s responsibilities as a Section Leader for the Thunder God Warriors kept him damn busy. Samuel had never been much for socializing in any significant way, preferring battle and clubbing, but he considered Duncan a good friend who had helped keep him sane during the past year, as he adjusted to his return to Militia Warrior service.

He was just about to ask what he could do to help, when that scent came to him again, this time much stronger, a river of fragrance that started wrapping around him. He even turned in the direction of the risers, though uncertain why.

He sniffed the air, and drew more of the flowery scent into his nostrils, which in turn invaded his brain.  A strange dizziness descended.

What the hell was that?

Chapter Two

Vela’s gaze had narrowed to a fine point that encompassed the warrior from her nightmare who had saved Santiago, the one called Samuel, the one now turned in the direction of the risers, a furrow between his brows as he scanned the crowd.

From the time he had passed by the risers, some kind of ascended knowing had possessed her, as though she already knew this man. He looked made for war in battle gear, and whether he realized it or not, he had a Warrior of the Blood thing going on with his black hair long and bound in a leather strap. He had moved like war and grace combined, a lethal fluid stride surrounded by a dark aura, and her body had bloomed for him.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Donna whispered.

Vela couldn’t respond. She wanted to, she wanted to expound on Donna’s theme, but her vocal chords wouldn’t work.

The strangest part of all, however, was that she swore she could smell him, that a stream of something warm, male, and wonderfully bitter like dark chocolate, emanated from him.

The scent filtered through her nostrils and began to drift into other parts of her body. Her thoughts funneled down farther to the warrior as though nothing else in this room existed and when his searching gaze found her, something really strange happened: she heard his thoughts like a soft whisper through her mind, She’s the one. She’s mine.

She felt naked beneath his gaze, and the stream of his scent thickened as he took several steps toward the risers. Her lips parted and she shifted in her seat like she couldn’t get comfortable. Her breasts felt heavy and achy. Her nipples beaded and pleasure descended very low until her breath hitched and the deepest part of her began long hard pulls on something that wasn’t there, but needed to be there, the sooner the better.

She felt bathed in pleasure and all she’d done was catch Samuel Daman’s scent and meet his gaze.

* * * * * * * * *

You’re mine. Samuel sent the thought again, straight at the woman in the risers, the one with a mass of wild, long blond hair, and large blue eyes.

A wave of her delicate floral scent hit him, and his breath caught. Her perfume affected the nerves in his body.

Streaks of lightning shot down his arms and legs, firing up his muscles. His neck grew almost rigid. His back started to arch and harsh sounds formed in his throat. He felt his dark power rise, and his mist started to swirl around him.

He took another deep breath through his nostrils. The perfume wafted in, and a new fire lit up his brain. He had to get to this woman.

She stood up and reached a hand toward him.

His vision tunneled down to the tips of those fingers. What happened next became a blur. He ran or levitated or partially folded to her position, he wasn’t sure, then grabbed her and pulled her out of the crowd, holding her against him and hauling her off the risers.

The alarms started shrieking as did several of the ascenders in the risers, though he didn’t know why.

A thundering followed.

Maybe he heard Luken’s voice.

HQ must be under attack, though he didn’t see the enemy, just the room moving in a strange way.

Still holding the woman in his arms, the one he had to get to safety, had to protect with every ounce of his being, he folded her to the corner of the room behind a weightlifting machine. He released her then ordered her to hunker down. He turned around to face the room, folding his identified sword into his right hand, his dagger to his left, ready to take the enemy on, to battle ten, a hundred, a thousand death vampires if necessary to keep his woman safe.

His dark mist rose in swirls around him, that part of his power he could control.  He shifted on his feet, turning in an arc. Let the enemy come.

The alarms stopped suddenly.

The workout center had emptied of spectators, which would make it easier to battle what came at him. But Endelle had returned and the other warriors seemed strangely relaxed. None of them bore a sword in hand, which made no sense.

His vision was still off, even a little blurred.

“So this is what Santiago was telling us about,” Endelle called from across the room. “Look how much more defined his muscles are, bigger, too. And that mist is some bad-ass shit! Holy motherfucker.”

Samuel stayed in his battle pose, sword aloft, dagger ready.

“Stand down, warrior,” Luken commanded. “You’re among friends. No enemy here.”

“I heard the alarms,” he shouted, unwilling to relax his guard. His woman was behind him and needed to be protected at all costs, even if he died doing it.

More strange things happened: Thorne started to smile, then laugh. Jean-Pierre followed, which made Samuel completely uncertain about what was happening. These were Warriors of the Blood, all three men, and now Luken grinned and Santiago shook his head.

“Fold those damn weapons away,” Endelle shouted, “before you hurt the woman behind you. Aw fuck.” She turned to Thorne. “You deal with this goddamn breh-hedden shit.”

She lifted her arm and though all four warriors tried to stop her, she folded and the alarms started shrieking again. Luken once more got on his phone and seconds later, the alarms stopped, but he stayed on the phone.  After about a minute, he called out, “Samuel, get rid of your weapons.  This is a false alarm. Apache Two is locked down and I just got clearance for you to fold your sword and dagger out of here.  Now do it.”

Samuel’s head finally began to clear so that he could see Luken was right. He released his weapons, folding them back to his weapons locker. He still didn’t understand what had happened. His brain had slipped into some kind of overdrive that made no sense.

“Are you Samuel?”

The voice, his woman’s voice, played a soft melody over his ears. As he turned, she rose from the floor where he’d pushed her down to make sure she was safe.

“Yes, I’m Samuel.” He stared into large, dark blue eyes, her light floral scent still swirling in his head and fracturing his thoughts.

He forgot about where he was as he stepped toward her, dragged her against his chest, and kissed her. Her arms flowed easily around his neck. Nothing had ever felt more natural or more right.

He had to taste her, to see if the floral scent also had a flavor, and it did. She moaned as he drove his tongue into her mouth, pushing and seeking, savoring. He wanted his tongue between her legs doing the same thing. Then his cock. He wanted his mouth on her winglocks, sucking, his fangs striking her neck and her blood down his throat.

He arched his hips into her so that she could feel his arousal and all that he had to offer, all that he intended to give her right now.

* * * * * * * * *

Vela drove her fingers into Samuel’s thick black hair as he pummeled her mouth. She lived in a dream, one that swirled this way then that, like she was caught in a dizzying carnival ride, and she couldn’t get enough.

She wanted more, to feel him inside her, low and deep. She ached between her legs, needing him.

Even her vein throbbed. She grabbed one of his hands and put it to her throat. He groaned as he stroked her neck and her vein rose for him.

She arched her neck, she felt him shift, she even felt saliva as he bathed her throat with his tongue. He would strike soon. His fangs would pierce her throat. She was so close.

Then suddenly everything shifted. At least three warriors were on Samuel, pulling him away from her.

Vela shouted at them. “What are you doing? Stop this. He’s mine. He belongs to me.”

Samuel started roaring at the ceiling, and more of his beautiful dark mist poured off his skin swirling in the air. She drank it in as Luken and Santiago hauled him backward. He fought like a madman but the men were vampire strong and held him.

She struggled to get to him only then realizing that someone held her back. “Mon dieu, cherie, please stop fighting me. We have to separate you just for this moment. I beg you.” Jean-Pierre, the beautiful Frenchman had her trapped. But why?

She shoved elbows into him and finally whirled and scratched at him. Every time Samuel let out another roar, she fought harder.

“Thorne,” Jean-Pierre called out. “We need Alison here. This is not right. Vela cannot calm down and I fear hurting her.”

She saw her opportunity and kneed Jean-Pierre hard. He grunted, doubled over, and suddenly she was free.

She raced, folded, then landed on Samuel, throwing her arms around him. Her weight, combined with his, took him to the floor. The other warriors reached for him again as the alarms once more shrieked. She didn’t understand all that was happening, but she had her man in her arms and held onto him.

When Thorne reached down for her, she hissed, long and loud and formed a spider-like pose over Samuel. Luken’s face looked like a hurricane had hit him.

Thorne said, “Well this is new.”

Vela understood exactly what had to be done and with a thought, she took Samuel into that dreamy place where she’d lived the recent nightmare, dark around the edges, but still in the workout center. At least now, Samuel was safe.

She still spidered over him, but she scanned the area beyond the boundaries of the dark space. Behind her, Jean-Pierre stood bent over, his hands on his knees, his face red. In front of her, Luken, Thorne, and Santiago stood in an arc, looking confused. It seemed clear to her that though she had a perfect view of all of them, they couldn’t see her.

The dreamy place allowed her to see out yet remain unseen. Exactly what she needed.

Luken shook his head. “Shit, she folded Samuel out of here.”

But Thorne, who had power-on-power, stood back and surveyed where they’d just been. “No. She didn’t. Neither did he. I can sense both of them. They’re still here. Well, what do you know; they’re in the darkening.”

“Que?” Santiago said. “The darkening? That is serious shit. You think Samuel has that kind of power, jefe?”

“No,” Thorne said, peering in her direction but not making eye contact because apparently he still couldn’t see her; he just knew or sensed she was there. “I think Vela does. All right, forget Alison, we need Havily over here right now.”

Luken whipped his phone to his ear and issued a string of soft, calm orders.

Vela didn’t care what any of the men did, so long as they backed off and left her man alone.

She watched Luken shift his gaze to Jean-Pierre, who had remained behind her. Vela spidered, maneuvering sideways so that she could see his approach from the rear, her arms and legs still in a protective arc over Samuel.

Jean-Pierre hobbled in her direction. Oh, that’s right; she’d kneed him hard. Exactly what he deserved for keeping her away from Samuel.

Luken hissed softly. “She got you in the jewels, brother? Ouch.”

She felt something on her cheek and glanced down. Samuel looked at her with a light in his extraordinary gray eyes as he stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful. What’s your name?”

Her need to protect her man, traded places with her desire for him. She’d brought him to safety, still within the workout center, yet not. No one could touch them here. She could keep this warrior with her forever in this place if she had to.

“Vela,” she said.  “My name is Vela.” As she eased down onto his chest, and found his lips with her own, as he once more drove his tongue deep inside, she thought forever seemed like too short a time.

He tasted of smoke and chocolate and man. She felt dizzy and aroused, ready to take things to the next level, when a woman called to her by name, “Vela.”

Whoever the woman was, she needed her to go away.

She kept kissing her warrior.

“Vela, can you hear me?”

The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but she was too busy right now to respond. Samuel had his tongue in her mouth and it felt so good. She hadn’t been kissed in years, not in years, and she wanted more, a lot more. She wanted everything. Now.

“Vela,” the woman called again, more stridently this time. “Can you stop what you’re doing for just a quick sec and talk to me?”

She had her hands knotted in Samuel’s hair and she didn’t want to talk. His hands kneaded her ass and she could feel all his male goodness pressed against her.

“Vela, listen to me. You’re caught in the breh-hedden, try to process that. You’ve never even met the man you’re kissing right now, have you?”

How the hell did the woman know she was kissing Samuel? Even Thorne hadn’t been able to see her.

As though having read her mind, the woman added, “I can see you kissing Warrior Samuel. Can you look up at me? I think you’ll be able to see me, too. I’m in the darkening with you. I have this power, as well. Your darkening ability.”

Darkening power?

She felt the urge to protect her man rise up again. She pulled away from Samuel and lifted up once more to half-spider him with one leg arched between his and one arm curved over him, her fingers touching the soft workout mats just past his shoulder.

She hissed softly, at the intruder, which proved to be a beautiful woman, with red hair, surrounded in a soft glow. Of course she knew her, who didn’t? She was Warrior Marcus’s breh.

But why was the powerful Havily Morgan spying on her, invading her secret space? How had she gotten here?

Havily stood within the black-edged boundaries of the protective place Vela had created, a glowing presence. “You need to go away, Havily. I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t be here. I will die before I let harm come to Samuel.”

Samuel’s hand was once more on her face, then on her breast, fondling. Her long hair covered his arm and hand. “Come back to me,” he whispered urgently. “I need you.”

She looked down at him. “Havily is here.”

“Make her go away. I need you.”

Vela shifted to glare at Havily. “You need to leave.”

“I will, if you’ll just talk to me for a minute. Otherwise, I’ll have to stay. I’m under orders.”

Vela’s arms trembled holding her pose, but she wasn’t about to let anyone get Samuel. He still lay prone, one hand kneading her breast.

She caught his hand and held it still as her mind cleared a little. Havily had spoken of the darkening. So had Thorne. Was this place the darkening? She needed to understand.

She met Havily’s gaze. “You can have one minute, then you’ll have to go.”

“Good,” Havily said. “I have just a few questions. Can you tell me how long you’ve known Warrior Samuel?”

Vela looked down at him and smiled. “Forever.”

She heard Havily chuckle. “I know that feeling well. But when did you first meet him?”

At that, Vela frowned and looked back at Havily. “I…can’t quite remember.”

“Have you ever met him? I mean, been introduced?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“So when did you first see him then?”

Vela leaned back just a little and her thoughts began to come together. “I was sitting on the risers when he walked by.”

“Then what happened? May I ask?”

She nodded. “I caught this wonderful scent, almost like chocolate, but very male.”

“I don’t usually tell people this, but my breh, Warrior Marcus, smells like a field of wild grasses combined with fennel.”

Vela smiled. Havily understood. Havily knew.

Then she remembered Madame Endelle saying something about the breh-hedden.”

“This is the breh-hedden,” Vela said, a rush of understanding ripping through her. “Oh, my God.”

“Very much so.” Havily held her palms up. “I went through something similar with Marcus during those early days. Luken dragged Marcus off of me and Antony held me back. It was…horrible. But later, I was completely mortified. I’m saying this so that you’ll know you’re not alone in what you’re probably feeling right now, or what you will soon experience.”

Vela shifted her spidery arm and leg so that now she knelt beside Samuel. Her heart started pounding and her cheeks felt fiery hot. “Oh, my God. No.”

She shifted away from Samuel, who sat up and stared at her not with lust, but with a puzzled expression. The dimming of her possessive, sexual feelings seemed to be having an effect on him.

Havily’s presence had done what otherwise would have been impossible. She’d essentially stopped them from having sex, in the darkening, right in the middle of the Apache Junction Two Militia Warrior Headquarters workout center.

She scooted back on her knees. “Warrior Samuel, oh, my God. I don’t know what happened.” Havily was right about one thing; Vela didn’t know him at all.

And she was mortified beyond words.

He reached his hand toward her but let it fall away before he made contact. “I am so sorry,” he said.  “The need of the moment overwhelmed me.  Jesus.”

But as she looked into his eyes, the power of the breh-hedden began to descend on her once more, especially as another wave of his erotic chocolate scent swamped her.

His gray eyes grew wild once more.  “Yes,” he said, his gaze smoldering, boring into her. She felt herself falling back into the experience, as though to do anything else would be to defy the heavens.

“Vela,” Havily called sharply.

She drew in a deep breath and shifted her gaze back to Havily. “Oh, dear God.”

“You’ll be okay. That’s it. Just breathe. And if you can move away, it will be even better for you, or at least easier.”

Vela scooted a few feet back on the mats. She reminded herself that she didn’t know this man and that he was the last thing she wanted in her life: a warrior.

She closed her eyes and forced air deep into her lungs. After a moment, when she opened them, she spoke to Havily. “Could you give us a minute? We need to sort this out?”

Havily nodded and disappeared, though a faint glow, like a trace, remained behind, an after-signature.

“If we’re going to talk,” Samuel said, “I’ll need more distance.  I’m barely holding on here because all I can think about is pulling you into my arms.”

She jumped to her feet because if she didn’t she’d let him do whatever he wanted to do.

“Thank you,” he said. He crossed his legs, his kilt looped into his lap. He stared at the black mats on the floor then shaded his face with one hand. “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered.

She took another step away from him, but couldn’t keep from staring at him. He was incredibly handsome with strong cheekbones angling to an equally powerful jaw. His nose had a slight curve, maybe not as marked as Warrior Santiago’s, but for her much more appealing.

Samuel. The word floated through her mind. She caressed his name again, Samuel.

He looked up at her. Telepathy?

Her cheeks grew warm again. Yes. You heard me call your name?

He nodded.

You spoke into my mind earlier, she sent. You called me your woman.

At that he shook his head, and with his forearms resting on his knees, he said, “I only vaguely remember. The moment you stood up, I had to go to you, to get to you.”

“The breh-hedden.” She said the word out loud so that she could start making sense of it. The call to him was still there, a ferocious beast that for now she had caged, but she’d never felt anything like this, like she had to be with him, be near him, touch him, take him into her body in as many different ways as she could, and do it now.

At the same time, she felt compelled to tell him of her dream. “I saw you battle last night.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how, but I think I was in the darkening and I felt called to the Superstitions. I watched the battle, how you saved Santiago. I just didn’t know who you were.” She told him several details of the terrible encounter, that he hadn’t been in wing-mount, and that he’d used both levitation and folding skills to slay the enemy.

“My God,” he said. “Do you do this often? I mean do you have these kinds of visions about other warriors?”

Her heart sank. “Never. This was the first time.”

“Then we’re connected somehow.” His jaw worked a couple of times. He pressed his lips into a grim line.

Unfolding his legs, he rose , towering over her not just with his height but with his powerful physique. She was five ten, so she wasn’t exactly short for a woman, but he made her feel petite.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said, his brows pinched once more. “I won’t come after you. I’ll leave you alone.”

She sensed a deeper meaning behind his words, behind his intention, that he’d just spoken his natural state, his isolation. What had her friends told her earlier, that Samuel never came to the workout center, that he’d been held captive for a decade and tortured, that though he was back, serving the Militia Warriors, he essentially kept to himself?

“I’m sure that would be for the best.” Yet doubt squirmed.

The past few years suddenly ripped through her mind. She realized that what had just happened between them, this sudden onslaught of the breh-hedden, had somehow illuminated what now looked like her dreary existence.

And yet, she didn’t want a man like Samuel in her life, never again. She and Jeff had been married for over six decades and all that time, day in and day out, she’d lived with the possibility that he would die in the line of duty. Then the night had come when he’d been ambushed by death vampires and her life with him had ended.

She hated the war, its seemingly endless nature. Even getting rid of Greaves had only shifted the ongoing conflict and in some ways had made it worse. In one month, the activity at all the Metro Phoenix Two Borderlands had quadrupled, putting heavy pressure on those warriors assigned to Borderland duty.

“This was my last day at HQ,” she said. “I’m transferring to Fiona’s rehab center to begin my counseling internship. I start next week.”

At that, he met her gaze. She knew the tight set of her lips matched his now.

He nodded. “You’ll be doing important work.”

“What I did here was important work, just different.” She drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m committed to building a new life for myself and that doesn’t include connecting with warriors on any level. I’m…I’m not built for this. Do you understand?”

He nodded and his frown deepened.

“Okay.” She believed they’d reached an understanding. “But I’ll probably have to touch you to take you out of this place.”  Her instincts told her that much.

“So where are we exactly? Do you know?”

Vela thought about Havily and all that she’d said. “I’m pretty sure we’re in the darkening.”

He whistled. “You have that kind of power?”

She shrugged. “Apparently, but I’m not happy about it.”

At that, he smiled, a kind of weary smile that squeezed her heart. He huffed a sigh. “I can relate,” he said. “Oh, boy, can I relate.”

In this moment, she knew two things; Samuel was too damn attractive and she actually liked him.

Without giving him a warning, she closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of his arm, and took him on a quick ride out of their hiding place.

She released him at once, letting her hand fall to her side. She flexed her fingers several times but other than that, she didn’t move away from him.  She felt a powerful need to remain close.

Everyone had left except Havily, Jean-Pierre, and Luken.

Luken then gave the orders. “Vela, we’d like you to go with Havily and talk this over with her, even take a couple of trips into the darkening and explore this power with her.” His gaze shifted to Samuel and he drew in a deep breath. “I’ve persuaded Thorne and Endelle to back off a little. I reminded Thorne that when Marguerite left Second Earth he actually abandoned his post to follow her. But we both agree on one thing, that you need to work with Jean-Pierre and get this power of yours figured out. You already know that one of Jean-Pierre’s gifts is facilitation, so will you at least agree to work with him?”

Vela glanced up at Samuel. He met her gaze briefly, but his jaw looked pretty stiff. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, “but if I feel anyone’s in danger from the nature of my power, I’m out of here.”

Warrior Luken opened his mouth to speak, but apparently rethought his words because he closed his mouth, nodded, then said, “We thought when Endelle defeated Greaves that we would enjoy a long period of peace, that, moving forward, our primary tasks would be to dismantle his army and pursue every last death vampire he created to the ends of the earth. Then our job would be done.

“We didn’t anticipate three generals off the grid with nearly a million warriors under their different commands. But that’s what we’ve got. One month after the battle at White Lake, and we’re in deeper than ever. You know this.”

“I do,” Samuel said.

Luken met his gaze squarely. “Do your best. No leader can ask for more.”

“I will.”

Luken’s lips curved. “And you always have. Plus, I can think of more than one time you’ve had my back in the field over the past few months.” He glanced at Vela. “Will you do the same, Ascender Vela?”

“Yes, of course.”

He smiled softly. “I knew your husband. He was a good man.”

“One of your finest,” Vela said, her throat closing up tight.

Luken nodded several times. “I have to go now. I have assignments to pass out at the Cave.” He glanced from Havily to Jean-Pierre. “If you’ll report in later, that would be great.”

After both Jean-Pierre and Havily nodded their assents, Luken headed toward the doors and the long march to the landing platforms.

Havily met Vela’s gaze, her eyes full of compassion. “Why don’t we go to my office at Administrative HQ?”

She inclined her head toward the same doors through which Luken had just disappeared. Vela agreed and put her feet in motion. But each step felt strange, like she was leaving something important behind, maybe the most important thing in her long ascended life.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel’s head had finally cleared, but he was still reeling.

The breh-hedden.

He didn’t get it. Why him?

Jean-Pierre headed to the closest set of risers and waved Samuel forward to join him. Samuel followed.

Jean-Pierre sat down then stretched out his long, lean muscular frame by planting his elbows on the riser step behind him and crossing his feet at the ankles. “You must tell me what is going on with you, Samuel. I have learned something during these months of training so many different Militia Warriors. There are times when only drills and working hard will do, but right now I believe we must talk.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bench to his right.

Samuel knew this had to be done but he didn’t like it and he was definitely too tense to lean back like Jean-Pierre.  Instead, he sat forward, his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together, his thoughts still full of Vela and the breh-hedden, of the last glimpse of her thick, wavy, unruly hair swaying behind her as she walked away.

He glanced at Jean-Pierre. He thought for sure that the strange vampire mate-bonding that had been making its way through the Warriors of the Blood, would have taken down another What-Bee this time, instead of his own fucked up self. But then Gideon had been struck by the myth and he was still a mere Militia Warrior, although everyone agreed he fought at Warrior of the Blood status.

But Gideon deserved the accolade, the power. He’d been a leader among the Thunder God Warriors for a long time.

Samuel only served as support to another Section Leader, and part of that time he’d been roped up, tortured, and now endowed with some kind of power, a portion of which he couldn’t control. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He could have hurt Vela when he released his power. That he hadn’t seemed like some kind of miracle.

Jean-Pierre spoke forcefully. “Tell me about your dark power, mon ami. Tell me what you fear about its nature.”

“This power,” he began, his gaze dropping to the nearest black mat, “came out of my captivity, as a direct result of what I went through, how I survived.” His sense of rage and shame descended on him like a waterfall of remembered pain. The experience was a blur of hurt, blood-hunger, and food starvation. He’d blocked out a lot of it, but there were times, especially during the first few months of his release, when he woke up sweating and half out of his mind.

During the years of his captivity, his survival had required that he grow in strength, but what had come of it was a dark power that he couldn’t control. For the entire last year, while tortured, he’d released the smoky misty from his body, but up until the moment that Duncan showed up, his power had been benign.

Maybe seeing Duncan had jump-started the other part of his dark power, the uncontrolled part, but he’d never really know.  Streams of energy had started to pour from him, in addition to the smoky mist, and through the Creator’s grace he’d been able to warn Duncan to fold the hell out of there.  But the slaves, unable to leave the grounds, had perished to the last man and Samuel lived with the guilt of those undeserved deaths.

He’d always liked the Frenchman, trusted him. For that reason, he told Jean-Pierre everything, his voice low, the words flat as they left his mouth.

“Merde.” Jean-Pierre shook his head slowly back and forth. “And you say when you escaped, these streams of energy reached out and attacked those around you, without discrimination?”

“That’s the best way to explain it.”

“I understand now why you held back.  I apologize for yelling at you.”

“You were just doing your job.  The problem is that when I release the mist-based part of my power, I can never feel the streams, so I have no way of knowing what they are or what would cause them to appear.” Still leaning forward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “And now the breh-hedden.”

“Oui, and now the curse-that-is-not-a-curse. I understand your woman is to work at the rehab center with my breh, with Fiona?”

He nodded. He wanted Vela to go on with her plans, to fulfill a dream that had nothing to do with death vampires and darkening work. “I don’t want to see this power developed or utilized.”

“Mais, Samuel,” Jean-Pierre said, his French adding another syllable to his name, “You cannot deny that you single-handedly saved a Warrior of the Blood last night. So, how can you say your power should not be encouraged, brought forward, strengthened? You battled like a Warrior of the Blood. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but what if I killed someone accidentally. I couldn’t live with that.”

“Then we should work together, you and I, in a controlled space, with no one else around.” He even smiled. “I am not without power myself, so I believe I could take these streams because, as you said, they did not kill immediately, but took some time.”

“But I couldn’t stop them. That’s my point. I watched these men die.”

“Will you let me help you, if I am able? Perhaps this will become more about separating these powers, encouraging the dark mist and accompanying power while perhaps setting shields in place to block the energy streams.”

He turned and met Jean-Pierre’s gaze. “That would be the right place to begin. But are you sure.”

Jean-Pierre narrowed his gaze.  “If you feel the streams emerge, warn me, and I will fold.”

Samuel rose to his feet. “Then let’s do this thing.”

* * * * * * * * *

Vela stood with her back to Havily’s office. She stared out at the fading eastern landscape, a view of the desert that stretched for miles beyond the window all the way to the Superstitions and Militia HQ. With her arms crossed over her chest, she withheld a sigh. Even standing here, she could feel Samuel. How was that possible?

“So you had a darkening vision of Samuel while dreaming?” Havily asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t turn around. Havily’s office had glass panes that faced the executive hallway. Too many people had already walked up and down that hall, glancing in to get a look at her. This was a small community, the one made up of powerful ascenders and their support staff, and she wasn’t used to being stared at. “I thought it was just a dream.”

“And you’ve never had them before?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“But you’re powerful,” Havily said. “I can feel it in you. Do your powers manifest in other ways?”

She told Havily about the fireworks.

“I love that power. Alison can do that and so can Fiona.”

She hoped Havily didn’t ask for a demonstration. She was so not in the mood. A hawk flew over the desert, hunting as the sun sank in the west, maybe a last attempt before nightfall. The death vampires would be heading to the Borderlands soon, ready to do battle as they tried to make their way into the vulnerable Mortal Earth world.

“This is all too much,” Vela said. “I don’t understand why this has happened.”

Havily drew close, leaning a shoulder against the thick window. “I know that feeling. Been there. I think more than any other woman who’s gone through this, Vela, I can relate to you because of the darkening ability.”

Vela glanced at her. “Do you wish it undone, all this increased power and responsibility?”

“No, but that doesn’t have meaning here. I’m so far on the other side of this thing that I’m sure I’ve forgotten half of what I went through, even my anger toward Marcus because he’d absented himself from the war for two-hundred-years.”

Vela shifted slightly in Havily’s direction. “And the breh-hedden? Do you ever regret that?”

“No, not even a little, despite the fact that it’s really frustrating at times. But the best I can say is try, if possible, to stay open to the experience, to this new power you’ve got going on. You might surprise yourself and the one thing I can tell you is that you’ll have a different role in this world going forward, one completely unexpected. I mean, I never thought I would work alongside Endelle or that I would have formed this working partnership with Marcus to change the world’s perception of our fearless leader. And yet, I believe I’m suited for all of these things, I just didn’t know it.”

Vela took a deep breath. “I thought for sure you’d be yelling at me to get on board.”

Havily snorted. “That’s Endelle’s style and you need to be prepared for that. She thinks we’re all slackers unless we’re doing what she tells us to do, the moment she says it. She can be tough to take, but after nine-thousand-years of ascended life, stuck here on Second Earth by the Council of Sixth, she’s lost her filters and has no patience, at all. Which is why I insisted that I speak with you and not her.”

Vela laughed. “Thank you for that. I’ve needed some space, some time to think this through.”

“I know. And as for this new power, don’t be surprised if it crashes down on you again. Emerging power is like that, like a series of storms until you’ve mastered what you’ve been given.”

“You know, that’s not very comforting.” But she smiled.

“One last thing. You do have a choice here. Nothing is set in stone at this point. The next time you’re called by the darkening, and it will probably relate to Samuel because that’s just the way the breh-hedden works, you will have a choice to make. And it will be okay if you choose not to move forward. I mean, you’ve taken night courses for years now in preparation for a counseling career, and you are desperately needed at the rehab center. No one would think less of you for choosing that life.

“As for Samuel, well, he’s lived in isolation since he returned from his captivity, and from a long period of being hurt, being tortured, so that’s a whole thing in itself.

“While you were still in the darkening talking to him, I contacted Gideon. Basically, he said that Samuel has always been distant, a lone wolf, if you will. He won’t be an easy man to deal with. Apparently, he’s closest to Duncan, who helped make it possible for him to escape, but even then I would hazard a guess that Samuel keeps him at arm’s length.”

Vela knew Havily was right. “I’ve thought about that as well. I’ve felt him, Havily, I’ve felt the loneliness in him and even right now, I can feel him, that he’s at HQ.” She waved her hand in the direction of Apache Junction Two.

“That’s pretty amazing. I didn’t have that with Marcus before we completed the breh-hedden. I think this is unique to you and Samuel. Does he have the same sense of you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well it’s just a different thread in the same tapestry.”

Vela nodded and almost at the same time she weaved on her feet as a soft vibration ran through her. She blinked. The vibration felt familiar, like a bell sounding in the distance, a warning maybe.

“Havily, do you hear that?”

“Nothing unusual. What’s going on?”

“I feel, no I believe I’m being summoned. I think it’s the darkening.” She heard a telepathic voice, a plea for help. Samuel, shit, where the fuck are you? I need your help.

She grew very still, statue-like. She knew that voice because she’d spoken to the warrior many times over the years and he’d been to her home when Jeff was alive. His on-again, off-again girlfriend, Rachel, had often cried on her shoulder about this man.

She turned to meet Havily’s gaze. “I’m hearing Duncan; he’s calling for help. Actually, he’s asking for Samuel. How is that even possible?”

Havily held her hands palms up and shook her head. “I don’t know, but I think you may have a more powerful form of the gift than me.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like the darkening is calling to me, but what do I do? With the previous vision, I’d awakened from a dream.”

“Okay, calm down. Take a deep breath. Focus on Duncan’s voice and just let it come.”

Vela nodded and let her thoughts turn fully toward Duncan. The moment she did, she slipped inside the darkening, the same sort of place she’d been with Samuel earlier. Only in this case, she was in Havily’s office and a black border separated the spaces. As she strained to hear Duncan’s voice again, she started moving, then just like that started down a dark tunnel that felt oddly familiar, as though the pattern of the tunnel had already been imprinted on her brain. She moved in a kind of levitation, faster and faster. The tunnels would branch and she always knew which one to take.

Images flashed by her, of people and places, but she didn’t stop to look. She took tunnel after tunnel, an urgency possessing her. She felt a dimensional shift and she knew that she’d just passed from Second Earth to Third.

On and on she moved.

She reached her destination and the same black border framed the space, indicating the darkening boundary.

She’d landed inside a large, gray-stone prison cell.

Bound by ropes, a barely recognizable Duncan, wearing only his kilt, hung suspended from a central hook. He’d been brutalized, probably tortured. His eyes were swollen shut, blood ran down his face, his chest, his sides.

“Duncan,” she called out. Would he even be able to hear her?

“Vela, is that you? I dreamed about you just now. Are you really there?”

“I’m here. But Duncan, I don’t know what to do for you? I can’t pull you out. I’m in the darkening and this is all new to me. What should I do?”

“Get Samuel. I need him. He…that is, this won’t make sense to you.”

“Try me.”

“Tell him that I’ve seen others with the kind of power he has, the kind that he released when I got him out of that hellhole in Honduras Two, that dark mist of his. He’ll know what I mean. And shit, tell him that I think they’re going to execute me in the next couple of days.”

“I’ll tell him right away and we’ll figure this out.”

“One more thing. You have to tell Rachel. Shit, tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry. I’ve been a real dick, pushing her too hard.”

In the distance, far away, she heard the sound of an explosion. Her instincts fired up and she knew she had to get out of there, had to leave before someone found her.

“I’ll tell her. I will. But I’ll bring Samuel back to you. I promise.”

“Good.” His body slumped in the ropes. He’d passed out.

Vela turned around. Her heart slammed in her chest now. Another distant explosion sounded. She put on her speed, heading back the way she’d come, never once questioning which strange dark tunnel to take.

She heard another explosion, closer.

She moved faster and slipped through the initial entry point in Havily’s office, where the ascender waited for her, eyes wide.

Instinctively, she planted both hands on the entry point and focused on sealing up the opening. Energy released from her in warm waves.

“The wall is glowing,” Havily cried.

Vela felt the seal happen and she stepped back just as another explosion sounded just beyond the darkening boundary.

Then nothing, as though the darkening disappeared.

She leaned her head against the cool glass, breathing hard. She sensed she was safe, at least for now.

“What happened, Vela?”

There was only one answer. “I just found Duncan.  He’s on Third Earth.”

Chapter Three

After an hour of working with Jean-Pierre, Samuel almost smiled as he extended his hand, yet again, down to the Frenchman.

Jean-Pierre lay on his back, grimacing. “And these are not energy streams you are hitting me with?”

Samuel shook his head.  “Not at all.  Trust me.”

“Mon dieu, your energy is immense.”

Samuel smiled. “I warned you.”

Jean-Pierre made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. He scowled at Samuel’s hand, refused to take it, but this time he struggled to gain his feet instead of hopping back up like he’d been doing. “I confess I am very tired of your power slamming me into these work-out mats. And how you are folding so quickly is beyond what I can comprehend.”

The alarms no longer sounded. Jean-Pierre had long since spoken with security and gotten permission for Samuel to fold as often as needed, because utilizing his dark power, while battling, always included a series of folds.

Jean-Pierre wiped sweat from his brow. Some of his long warrior hair had escaped his cadroen, and clung to his face and neck. He had unusual eyes, dark gray and green or maybe they were blue. He’d been a favorite with the ladies until the breh-hedden brought Fiona, the blood slave, into his life. Now he was all hers.

The breh-hedden.

Jesus.

Jean-Pierre held Samuel’s gaze. “And we truly have not tapped the streaming power?”

Samuel shook his head. “No, not even a little.”

“Merde,” Jean-Pierre muttered.

He turned away from the powerful What-Bee and swiped his sword gently back and forth through the air, watching the blade glimmer beneath the overhead lights. At least he’d come to understand that his power had two separate parts and that this half, which had functioned last night at the Superstitions, now seemed strong and right as he wielded his sword against Jean-Pierre in practice, as he folded, levitated, and worked with his dark mist floating around him.

But the streaming power remained elusive, perhaps even dormant, not a bad thing in his opinion.

With his sword held aloft, a vibration reached him, a single call to his dark power. He turned in a slow circle, listening hard, waiting for what he didn’t know.

“What is it?” Jean-Pierre asked. “What is happening?”

Samuel turned toward him. “Jesus, I can feel that something’s wrong, like a vibration in my head. What the hell is that?”

But Jean-Pierre just shrugged. “Perhaps it is your woman.”

He was about to say no, to reject the idea because he didn’t have a woman, when Jean-Pierre’s phone rang. He plucked it from the deep pocket of his workout kilt, and after glancing a the screen, he thumbed then said, “Allo, Havily? Ca va?”

He nodded. “I see. When you call the landing platforms, have them fold her here. Oui. Ici. Here. Yes, we can do that for now.”

He thumbed his phone, returned it to his pocket, and said, “Your woman is coming.”

“Shit,” Samuel murmured. He’d already planned on finding a way to avoid Vela, and now she’d be here in a few more seconds. Beyond that, he could feel her distress, which made no sense at all.

A moment later, she materialized twenty feet away from him, near the risers.

Unable to prevent himself, he crossed the workout mats on a half-run, folding his sword away at the same time.  With his dark power flowing in a mist around him he grabbed her arms, holding her fast. “Are you all right? What’s wrong? I can feel that something’s wrong.”  But before she could answer, he pulled her against him.

“Samuel,” she whispered, her voice just a breath of air against his neck.

Realizing what he’d done, he let go of her, then took a step back.  “Shit, I’m so sorry, Vela.  I didn’t mean to do that. I’m trying. I really am.”

Vela put a hand on his arm, and he grew very still. God, the feel of her fingers alone making contact with his skin sent ripples of desire coursing through him.

“Samuel, we have a situation. I found Duncan.”

“What?”

“I located Duncan.  I slipped into the darkening and went straight to him.”

He called to Jean-Pierre, repeating what she’d just told him.

Jean-Pierre hurried to join them, which immediately set a new kind of problem in play. He didn’t want the warrior near Vela. He shifted to stand slightly in front of her, lowered his chin, and glared. A soft warning growl sounded at the back of his throat.

Jean-Pierre raised both hands, and took two steps back but his lips curved.

Damn the breh-hedden.

Perhaps more stiffly than he wanted, Samuel shifted to stand beside Vela and slid an arm around her waist. He met her gaze, then sent, I’m sorry. This thing is almost unbearable, but I can’t let him get any closer. Please understand.

I do. I really do. Her light floral scent, so familiar, began to waft over him and now a second problem surfaced.

Oh, God, the way you smell.

I know. This is crazy. Your touch, your nearness, and right now you smell like heaven.

But at that, he laughed and some of the tension eased out of him. He shifted to face her a little bit more. “How is that possible, when I’ve been running drills?”

Her large blue eyes had darkened and the initial charge of the breh-hedden rushed back at him. The only thing that kept him from dragging her into his arms once more was that Jean-Pierre stood nearby.

When the brother called out his name in three distinct syllables, Samuel jerked his gaze from Vela.

“Your woman had a purpose in coming here, remember?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Vela said. “It’s about Duncan.” She shuddered. “I found him in the darkening, in a series of tunnels that crossed the dimensional trough into Third. He’s in a stone-like facility, bound with ropes. He’s been beaten. I almost didn’t recognize him.” She paled, her eyes widening. “He has some kind of execution order on his head. He said he won’t last through the next couple of days.”

She then relayed what Duncan had said, that he believed Samuel would be able to help him, that he’d seen others on Third with his power, others that released a kind of mist when their power emerged.

A series of thoughts raced through his head, that his power possessed Third Earth qualities, just as he had thought, that a Third entity held Duncan captive, and that somehow Vela connected him to the Upper Dimension.

Whatever he’d felt earlier about staying away from Vela, or his reluctance to bring his dark power forward, all seemed to fall away in the face of Duncan’s situation. Maybe if this hadn’t been a time of war, he could make a different choice, one that could allow him to separate from Vela, to keep his unknown, untried powers at bay. But Duncan had saved his life and right now Samuel had only one goal. “We need to get him out.”

And with those words, spoken aloud, he left behind a much simpler life in which he kept to himself and lived out his basic, disconnected warrior life. He didn’t know all that taking this step would mean, but everything in his spirit urged him forward.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Vela said.

“Can you share the location with me in some way? Maybe get me there?” He had no idea if Vela could take him through the tunnel system she’d just described.

“I don’t know.”

* * * * * * * * *

Vela looked into smoky-gray eyes and once again felt the train of her thoughts begin to slide away. She was still too vulnerable to the breh-hedden to do much more than step in his direction and plant a hand on his weapons harness, in the center of his chest. He covered that hand and his expression softened. A falling sensation flowed through her, working the hard exterior of her heart, softening what had been closed off for the last several years.

You’re so beautiful.

But his deep voice in her head woke her up. He shouldn’t be saying something like that, not when they had a job to do, not when Duncan was in danger.

She drew back, shivering as she lost connection with him. She looked at anything but him and decided the black mats were the right place for her gaze to land. Her thoughts slowly pulled back together.

Everything had changed.

That’s what she knew.

From the moment she’d seen Duncan bound by ropes and hanging from a hook, her life had shifted on its axis. She had no idea where this journey would take her, but for whatever bizarre reason, she had a specific power that had located one of their missing warriors. She’d never sought this ability. She didn’t even want it.

But her connection to the darkening had catapulted her into a new world, demanding things of her she’d never imagined doing before. Beyond her emerging power, however, she also let go of her need to keep the war at arm’s length. Yes, she’d lost her husband to that bastard, Greaves, but the war wasn’t over and now it looked like an entity on Third had gotten involved as well.

“Why Duncan?” she asked, glancing between the men.

Jean-Pierre turned toward her. “Duncan has power, more than anyone knows. I have been working with him, exploring that power, for many months. He has visions, but we could not isolate the source of the power and bring them forward. Each time we did, though, he grew physically stronger.”

Samuel frowned. “Did you have a sense that he was somehow connected to Third Earth?”

“No. How could I have? But Duncan knew things, sensed things. There is a connection between the two of you.”

Vela drew in a deep breath and met Samuel’s gaze. “I think we should head back into the darkening. I want to try to take you back to him and I’m pretty sure I can. Maybe if you saw him, saw the situation, you could figure out what we need to do.”

Samuel dipped his chin. “Are you sure?”

She understood the depth of the question, not just that she would be taking him back into the darkening and on a difficult journey, but because he already knew how she felt about all of this, that she didn’t want to be involved.

She nodded slowly. “I’m sure. My mind’s made up. I’m not especially happy about what’s going on, but I want to help.”

“Then let’s do it.”

But Jean-Pierre intruded. “It might be wise to engage Endelle at this point. Not only does she have darkening ability but it seems to me, mes amis, that we are talking about Third Earth. If an Upper Dimension has begun meddling in our affairs, then Endelle must know.”

Vela nodded briskly. “You’re right. Absolutely.”

Getting a fold to the palace took Jean-Pierre a couple of phone calls to orchestrate, but finally the three of them glided through nether-space.

Endelle met them at her landing platform, hands planted on her leopard covered hips. “What the fuck is all this nonsense about Third Earth, the darkening, and Duncan? What the hell is going on here?”

To Vela’s surprise, Samuel took her hand as she walked beside him down the ramp. She glanced at him and he turned and sent, Is this okay?

She nodded. Absolutely. It’s a comfort because I’m way out of my depth.

He gave her hand a squeeze.

She could get used to this. She’d forgotten the simple pleasures of a man’s company, of holding his much bigger, stronger hand.

Thorne had strengthened the security at the palace over the past couple of years, in part because not so long ago, Greaves had actually attacked the palace during Alison’s rite of ascension. Thorne had also established his Command Center here, prior to the battle over White Lake, which had happened just a month ago. Based on all the P.O.’s she’d processed for Thorne recently, Endelle’s home would be the Command Center for the Allied Ascender Forces indefinitely.

As she followed behind Endelle, she passed through the smaller rotunda to a much larger one. The palace was essentially a series of rotundas that hung off the side of the McDowell Mountains overlooking a vast desert to the west.

Entering one of the massive dome-like rooms, she had expected to see groupings of couches and tables. Instead, the room displayed a dozen large screens and more computers than she’d ever seen in one room except at Militia HQ. The lights were kept low and specific to each desk. The open air balconies at either end were now partially closed off with enormous rolling screens.

Thorne stood next to Colonel Seriffe, who must have just folded in from North Africa. Together they scrolled through an iPad.

“Thorne,” Endelle called out. “I want you and Seriffe in on this. Now.”

Thorne met her gaze and Endelle paused in her steps. They seemed to be communicating telepathically.

Endelle finally shot a hand in the direction of an archway at the north end of the rotunda and called out, “Now.”

Thorne glanced at Seriffe and nodded, then the two of them followed Her Supremeness. Seriffe moved quickly as did Thorne. Vela picked up her pace, matching Samuel’s shift in stride. She glanced around at all the techs and support staff who seemed stunned by what had just happened. Apparently, even Endelle didn’t order Thorne around much these days.

After crossing through two smaller rotundas, and passing through an arched entrance, she arrived at Endelle’s sitting room, a large space with a white shag rug, glass tables, and purple couches and chairs.

Once inside, Endelle waved Vela and Samuel to the couch. She sat down and Samuel didn’t hesitate to plant himself right next to her and to take hold of her hand again.

“Give us the details.”

Vela relayed in detail her journey through the intricate maze of darkening tunnels, of crossing the dimensional boundary, of the images that whisked by her as she moved, the explosions and of course everything that related to Duncan.

When she was done, Thorne, Seriffe, and Endelle stared at her, unspeaking.

“You’re shitting me,” Endelle finally said. She then dropped into the large purple chair that faced into the room. Her shoulders slumped.

Endelle’s sudden despair stunned Vela and without thinking, she slipped into the woman’s mind. Endelle’s thoughts streamed quickly. Where the hell is Braulio? He’s been gone this month, with not one goddamn word, and now we have a Third Earth intrusion. And the hell if I know what to do. We’re losing Militia Warriors by the hundreds every night because of those three fucking generals and now this? An untried blondie, with darkening powers that exceeds even—

She broke off and whipped her gaze to Vela. “You were in my head?” she shouted.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I was just suddenly there. And I didn’t know.” Vela eased back against the cushions. She felt as though she’d been slapped, not by Endelle’s outrage but by the truths she’d just expressed, one after the other.

Hundreds of Militia Warriors.

Dying every night.

She released Samuel’s hand and covered her face with her hands. She’d avoided hearing news of the war. And all around the world, Militia Warriors, caught in the extended war, were dying.

Hey, what’s wrong? Samuel sent.

But before she could respond, Endelle had levitated to stand on the glass table in front of Vela. She looked up and stared at the outraged Amazon. “You stay the fuck out of my head, ascender, do you hear me?”

“My apologies. Again.” Vela had never been around Endelle very much and Havily had warned her, but the angle wasn’t helping because Vela could see the lower rounded portions of her Supremeness’s large bare breasts.

Yet somehow that helped, the absurdity of how Endelle dressed.

Endelle grunted, levitating back to the white shag carpet.

“I’ve joined the ranks, Madame Endelle, and I’ll do what I can to help. But I don’t know what to do. I can get Samuel to Duncan, but there’s a limitation. We can’t exit through the darkening at that point, as you know, in order to pull him out.”

“Fuck. You’re right.” She glanced at Thorne and Seriffe. To the latter, she said, “Did you know Samuel has some kind of Third-based power?”

“No. I didn’t.” The leader of the Militia Warriors scowled as he set his strong gaze on Samuel. “You’ve been holding back?”

“For only one reason. Part of the power I have can’t be controlled, at least not yet. I killed several innocent men with it when I escaped.”

Jean-Pierre shared his experience working out with Samuel.

Thorne’s lips twitched. “You’re telling me a mere Militia Warrior kept knocking you on your ass, J.P.?”

“Oui. And I would complain but I believe he must become a Warrior of the Blood soon, perhaps the first we have had since my own induction.”

Samuel spoke quickly. “Just to be clear, I have no intention of leaving the Thunder God Warriors.”

Jean-Pierre laughed. “We have all heard that from Gideon for over a year. I suppose I am not surprised.”

Vela glanced around the group of powerful ascenders, wondering what she was even doing here. How upside down was her world that a former purchase-order-processor sat in Endelle’s private suite?

“Okay, assholes,” Endelle said. “Let’s get back to work.” She flipped some of the small, spiral shells which in turn exposed a nipple.

All the men looked elsewhere.

Endelle rolled her eyes but addressed Vela. “Take Samuel back to Duncan and see what happens. None of us have this kind of experience with the darkening. In fact, I want to be part of this. So, let’s do this from my office. You can head on over now. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.”

Vela rose from the couch but before she even reached the door Samuel had hold of her hand. Once past the doorway, he switched sides so that by the time they’d returned to the large rotunda that housed the command center, he formed a barrier between her and the men who worked there.

What’s that about? She asked.

Those men were gawking at you.

No they weren’t. She’d noticed a couple of surreptitious looks but nothing close to staring at her with mouths wide open.

You don’t want to argue with me about something like this, not right now. You can yell at me later, if you want. But this damn breh-hedden is like fire on my skin. I’m caught between wanting to punch every man who even looks at you to getting you somewhere private and tearing your clothes off. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

As Vela walked, heading back to the platform, she didn’t at first recognize the sensation that moved through her, like little streaks of lightning. His rich scent had thickened the air near her so that desire once more, always ready to take her over, stroked her breasts and the sweet spot between her legs. I don’t mind, she sent in return. And she didn’t. In fact, should they survive this next trip into the darkening, she might even suggest they do a little mutual exploration and see what happened, maybe even tap into a vein or two.

Her mouth watered suddenly. She hadn’t shared blood in a long time and the thought of bringing Samuel into her body in that way, maybe while they were doing other things, caused her to shiver.

As she walked up the ramp, he sent, You have the most wonderful floral scent, which you are shedding in waves right now, and you’ve got me worked up.

Standing beside him on the platform, she turned and met his gaze. Good, she sent. A split-second later, she folded beside him, flying through nether-space, but not before she saw his mouth drop.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel arrived on the landing platform at Administrative HQ in a state of pain, and a level of gratitude for snug briefs and a battle kilt, he’d never quite appreciated before.

Vela’s eyes held a promise, one he understood really well because he knew that signal. Only this time, the breh-hedden had him in its cross-hairs and he was a target ready to hit. Her scent rose in clouds around her.

He  slid his arm tight around her waist and walked her down the administrative HQ ramp, newly installed on the bottom floor of the building.

Once inside the elevator, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, plundering her mouth like he’d never known a woman’s mouth before. That she glided her hips back and forth so that her abdomen stroked his erection told him all that he needed to know about what she wanted from him.

He slung an arm around her neck, put a hand on her face and forced her to look at him. But he didn’t say anything, he just met those large blue eyes and willed her to know him, to know what she was getting into. Her lips parted, her breath quickened.

“I’m not who you think I am. The man I could have been disappeared during those years I was gone. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I think I feel the same way. I’ve been lost since my husband died.  I haven’t been the same, either.”

He nodded, then kissed her again, backing her into a corner, pressing his body up against hers. Time lost its meaning as he arched his hips into hers, pumping like he would once he got inside her.

The doors opened, maybe for the tenth time, he wasn’t sure, but a woman’s voice, a blunt, crude voice, called into the elevator. “Somebody get me a goddamn hose.”

Endelle had arrived already? Shit, how long had he kept Vela inside?

Samuel pulled away. If he’d been in pain before, right now he felt like someone held his balls in a vise. He was so close to release that his abdomen spasmed.

Vela clung to the upper sides of his weapons harness, breathing hard.

“You’re wasting precious time,” Endelle said. “You know that, right?”

“Keep your panties on,” Samuel snapped.  “We’re coming.” Jesus, was he really talking to the Supreme High Administrator like that? The ruler of Second Earth?

He turned around to apologize, but Endelle only laughed. “Come on, warrior. Let’s get this next job done. With what you went through in Honduras Two, the least you deserve is a beautiful blond getting your rocks off.” She waved an arm toward the ceiling of the elevator. “And just so you know, security has been enjoying the show.”

“Aw, shit.” He glanced up at the camera and knew a bunch of ascenders were smiling back at him. He didn’t care about himself so much, but it bothered him that Vela was exposed like this. So, he glared at the red blinking light and said, “If I find one hint that you’ve been spreading this around Second Earth, I’ll hunt the last of you down and beat you as close to death as I can get, are we clear?”

A voice came over the speaker. “Erasing the CD now.”

“Then we have an understanding.”

“Yes, Warrior Samuel.”

Damn, they even knew his name.

He put his arm around Vela’s shoulder and led her into the hall in the direction of Endelle’s office.

Once inside, he took in the zebra skin rugs, the antique tusks that supported the unpolished marble desk, a fireplace to the left that looked as though it was never used and the full wall of windows that offered a magnificent view of miles and miles of the eastern desert. He loved this land, the dry air, the forever blue skies, the prickly nature of the inhabitants, human and otherwise. Desert living wasn’t for the weak.

He glanced at Vela. Neither was taking on a vast power like Third Earth darkening abilities capable of moving through dimensions. His woman, yes his woman, stood facing Endelle’s desk, her shoulders squared and ready.

He understood something about Vela right then, that she would go the distance. He knew many Militia Warriors like this, good men and women who he would trust with his life. Most of them would go on to become Section Leaders and they always set the best example for the troops.

“What do you suggest, Madame Endelle?”

But the leader of Second Earth just shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. I don’t do the darkening the way you described. You’ve got Third Earth chops. I don’t. This is your show, Vela. Though the one thing I can tell you is to go with your gut. The rest will follow.”

Vela turned toward Samuel. “I have no idea what we’re going to find, but I think you should have your sword with you.”

Samuel glanced at Endelle, lifting his brows. “Can I do that here? Fold my sword to me?”

“Do it. We don’t have the same security restrictions as either Apache Junction Two HQ or the palace. Thorne’s been after me about it, but for now he can just bite me.”

Samuel withheld a smile. Thorne was revered among the Militia Warriors, a man’s man, and destined apparently to replace Endelle. So to hear her say something like that about Thorne, perhaps more than anything else that had happened, made him know his life really had changed.

He thought the thought and folded his identified sword into his right hand, the blade held away from Vela. He moved to position himself on her right side.

“You ready to go for a ride, warrior?” she asked.

He knew what she meant, but their recent engagement in the elevator made him think of other things. He repressed his thoughts if not the squeeze he gave her waist or the smile that moved his lips inappropriately.

But her lips quirked as well, which made him wonder if the breh-hedden might have chosen wisely for him after all.

She shifted her gaze away from him. He watched her concentrate on what couldn’t be seen, probably searching for Duncan.

He tightened his hold on her waist and suddenly they were moving fast through the dark tunnel matrix she’d described, flying down one tunnel, reaching a branch, choosing with deliberate ease the next tunnel, then flying some more.

He saw the same things she’d described earlier as images raced past him. Once he’d become accustomed to the movement, he tried to see what made up the images that flashed by.

Eventually he saw landscapes and cities, a lot of smoke, ruins, people in rags, some warriors in flight battle gear, people running and large whirlwinds of light which turned out to be weapons of heavy capacity and destruction. He watched people being blown to bits, heard others scream, saw warriors flying and bearing swords. Then more landscape, a beautiful peaceful earth, then even greater turmoil.

His heart sank as Vela continued to move him through the darkening. Third Earth, too, was a world at war and somehow, one of the culprits had gotten hold of Duncan, but to what purpose? And why execute him?

Vela began to slow and his sword hummed in his hand.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He looked around carefully.

“Do you hear that sound?”

He listened hard. And there it was. “Like a very distant explosion.”

“Yes. The last time, I barely made it out alive. They’re coming for us and they’re coming from the direction of Duncan’s tunnel. I think they must know we’re here.”

When another explosion sounded, closer still, that was all Samuel needed to know. “Get us out of here, Vela. There’s no point in moving forward if they’ve got a fix on us and it seems they do.”

He turned her in a one-eighty, keeping his sword well away from her. Then her voice was in his head. Samuel, the return route has changed, but I don’t know why. I don’t know if we’re being directed that way, and it’s an ambush, or what?

Remember what Endelle said, go with your gut.

Then I have to change course.

Do it. I’ve been a warrior a long time. Going with your instincts will get you where you need to go, every damn time. You’re connected to this power, so follow its lead.

But even as he said this to her, mind-to-mind, an explosion sounded behind them, much closer this time.

She flowed faster than before, taking tunnel after tunnel. He could feel the dimensional crossing, like a bump in the road, but still they were pursued as another explosion sounded.

Closer.

She reached the end of a tunnel. A dead end. I don’t know what to do?

What do you see? All he saw was darkness, like a wall of infinite black.

I doorway with a kind of gold seal around it.

Another explosion. Try knocking.

An explosion sounded so close his ears rang.

Fuck that. Samuel, use your sword.

He didn’t pause to ask questions. He summoned his dark power and as his smoky mist swirled around him, he sliced at the wall with his blade and what do you know, an opening peeled back.

A man in long black terry robe, a cigarette in one hand and martini glass in the other, stared back at him and muttered. “Oh, shit!”

Samuel stepped through the opening, dragging Vela with him, turned and faced the breach but he saw nothing just the wall.

But he heard another explosion.

“Fuck.” Their host said. “The wreckers followed you.”

Samuel turned back to face the robed stranger. “What do we do?”

He rolled his eyes, settled his cigarette carefully on an ashtray, placed his martini glass on the coffee table then went to the wall.

Samuel pulled Vela close as another not-so-distant explosion rocked the space.

“I could use some help here,” the stranger called out.

Vela went to the wall, and placed her hands on it alongside the man.

“Shit, this isn’t working,” the man shouted.

Samuel’s instincts kicked in and he went to the stranger. He placed his hand on the man’s back and his own power flowed. A kind of zing went through him, into the stranger, and the power amplified about a hundred fold.

Then everything went black.

Sometime later he woke up on his back.

“He’s awake now,” Vela said.

He shifted his head slightly. Vela had hold of his hand, her knees curled next to him. Her long, unruly hair, full of waves and curls, hung beside her face, an almost angelic look. He squeezed her hand.

“You okay?” she asked.

He glanced around. He was on the floor, in the same room, the stranger’s living room. “What happened?”

“You amplified Merl’s power and he sealed the tunnel back up. Looks like we opened up an exit point that had been closed for about five decades.”

He glanced at her other hand. She held a martini glass. “You’re drinking?”

“Seemed like a good idea. Greygoose dirty. Very nice. And we were very lucky Merl was here.”

She’d called him by name twice.

He didn’t like that. At all.

He sat up, his head spinning. Shit, where was his identified sword. Only he could touch the grip or the hilt. Jesus. “Where’s my sword?”

Merl said. “It’s humming over there.” He gestured behind him.

Samuel widened his eyes. His sword was stuck about ten inches into the wall, on the opposite side of the large room, at least thirty feet away from where he now sat. There were many issues to address right now like how much he didn’t like his new host since he could sense his male-hunting stench, but he needed to take care of his weapon first.

As he rose to his feet, he said, “I take it we’ve reached some kind of safe haven here on Second and you must be from Third.”

“Guilty.”

Had Merl actually said that?

Samuel crossed in front of him, catching his gaze and holding it hard, as he passed by.

The man held up both hands in surrender, a new cigarette in one hand and a half full martini in the other.

Samuel pulled his sword from the wall, the familiar feel of the grip a comfort in what had become an increasingly bizarre situation. “We’re on Second?”

Merl nodded and took a slow drag on his cigarette, squinting, savoring. “Yeah, you can fold it anywhere you want. I don’t have shields up. Haven’t needed them. Of course your arrival, as well as Vela’s,” he offered her a smile as he sipped his martini, then finished his thought. “Anyway, your arrival will force me to rethink my strategy.”

He’d called Vela by name and smiled at her.

Good ol’ Merl was starting to piss him off.

Samuel thought-the-thought and got rid of his sword. He returned to Vela, and as he passed by Merl again, he made eye-contact and let him feel just what he thought about this Third ascender, with a power similar to his own.

Merl’s lips quirked as he once more raised his martini glass and his cigarette in surrender. What a prick.

When Samuel reached Vela, she sent, What’s the matter? You’re all pissy and from what I can tell, Merl just saved our lives.

I had something to do with that.

Her expression softened. Yeah, you did and it cost you.

“Okay, you two. Enough with the telepathic chit-chat. It’s kinda rude.” The last word came out with a stretched ‘u’ sound. This man was one piece-of-work.

The weird thing was, Merl was warrior-sized and matched Samuel pound-for-pound. He wore black silk bottoms, but the terry robe, open to the waist, exposed muscled pecs.

Samuel slipped his arm around Vela. “Who are you?” he asked, not trusting much about this stranger.

“Merl Tuttle, escapee from Third Earth, former warrior, including stretches inside the darkening grid. Got sick of the chaos on Third and found a way to get out. Question is, how did you find me? I haven’t had visitors from Third since I got here.”

“We’re not from Third,” he said.

“Why, Vela, you didn’t tell me that.”

He’d caressed her name.  Hell, he’d poured oil over every single one of those words, the bastard, and now a lovely red hue covered Samuel’s vision as his dark power rose in a sudden smoky stream.

He launched at Merl before he had time to think or before he could respond to Vela calling out, “Don’t, Samuel. He’s a friend!”

He caught bare arms, because somewhere in Samuel flying at Merl, the Third ascender had lost his robe and dropped into a fighting stance.

Samuel grappled with him, wrestling him to the ground, then letting his fists fly.

Merl folded out of his hold, levitated. Samuel’s dark power recognized his foe and responded with similar levitation and folding, until once more he made contact.

But Merl had more power and the next thing Samuel knew, he lay face down on the carpet, a knee in his back, and one arm pulled back and upright to the breaking point.

“You done throwing a fit?”

“Don’t talk to my woman that way.” The words sounded slurred since they were half-spoken into a thick carpet.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Merl let him go. Samuel rose to his feet, breathing hard, sweating, mad. He glared at Merl. “Just leave Vela alone. She’s mine.”

Merl opened his mouth to speak then closed it. “Hold the phone. Are we talking that breh-hedden shit here? I mean I heard rumors that Thorne had been laid waste. It’s the breh-hedden, isn’t it?”

But Samuel stepped into him and got about an inch away from his nose “Breh-hedden or not, stay the fuck away from my woman. We clear?”

Merl narrowed his eyes and though he said nothing, he stared back, nostrils flaring.

But suddenly the air above them was full of light, then little pin-pricks of fiery pain hit his bare shoulders, arms and back. He waved his hands, as Merl did, batting away the annoying bites of fire.

“What the hell is that? Another trick Merl?”

“I didn’t do that.”

“Are you two Neanderthals finished?”

The sound of Vela’s voice, as well as the cessation of sparks falling all around him, caused Samuel to turn and stare at her. “What was that?”

She turned a palm up and a small firework appeared, which she then launched toward the ceiling. When it floated down, it winked out in a succession of small bursts of flames.

“Why did you do that?” Samuel asked.

“Because you’re both being ridiculous, especially you!”

“Why, me?” He jerked his thumb toward Merl. “This asshole was disrespecting you.”

“And you were treating him like a moron. Knock it off.”

Her criticism rankled.

Merl pulled at the sides of his bottoms. “I have little holes in my pjs.”

Vela rolled her eyes but walked toward the entry wall. “Sorry, Merl, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about your pajamas.” She planted a hand on the wall, her blond hair falling almost to her waist. He decided he loved her hair. “I need to know about this. What it is, how we got through, and what those explosions were. You said something earlier about wreckers.”

“Yeah, Merl,” Samuel said, without affection, “Tell us about the wreckers.”

Merl held out his hand and a lit cigarette appeared between his fingers. He took a puff, once more squinting slightly, glaring. The bastard.

After he’d released a puff of smoke in Samuel’s direction, he said, “Look, I don’t know who either of you are, but clearly you’ve got a lot of power between you. Which one of you saw the gate?”

Vela turned slightly toward the wall. “I did. We’d reached the end of the tunnel and I saw a glowing archway here, in this location. Samuel couldn’t see it, but he used his sword to break through.”

He narrowed his eyes at Samuel. “Only a powerful warrior can use his sword to make a breach in a gate.” Then back to Vela. “But it’s the rare ascender who can locate gates like mine.”

Vela turned toward him. “So then you had enough power to find this gate in the first place?”

Merl took another drag, another sip. He glanced at her. “Hell, no. I paid a fortune, a life’s fortune, to have the gate made then erased from all the grid documents.” His eyes grew cloudy.

Samuel tried to figure out what would have caused a vampire like Merl to have given up his fortune, his occupation, the life he’d built on Third Earth, to come here and live, literally, off the grid. He wanted to think the worst of Merl, that he was some kind of psychotic outlaw, but he sensed that Merl possessed a warrior’s honorable core, despite his interest in Vela.

Merl sat down in a low-chair angled from the corner of the room. “All right you two, have a seat and I’ll tell you what’s going on, or what I think is going on.” He sighed heavily. “Well, it was a nice five-decade run. Fuck.”

Vela crossed to the couch opposite the entry wall. She sat down, shoving the left mass of her hair over her right shoulder. Somewhere along the way, she’d set her martini glass down.

Samuel remained where he was. “I’ll stand.” He reached down near Merl’s chair, picked up the terry robe and threw it at Merl’s bare, muscled chest.

Merl laughed, waved the hand with the cigarette, and the terry was once more wrapped around him. But he smirked.

“Probably a good idea you don’t sit down,” Merl said. “You’d mess up my furniture, with that black smoke that leaks out of you. It’s called grayle, by the way.” He even spelled it. “And rare on Third. Not the grayle, just the color of it.”

“How so?”

“Those gifted with this kind of power, like me, can release just about any shade of grayle from light gray to white. But not that charcoal shit. You’ve got tremendous latent power because of it.”

Recalling the way his power had streamed and killed those men, Samuel had to agree. He quickly repressed the guilt that was always about an inch away.

Merl glanced between the two of them and frowned. He didn’t speak right away, but the line of his lips tightened. Finally, he said, “All right, I want to hear this from the beginning then I’ll answer your questions. How the hell did you end up in the darkening grid that connects Second and Third Earth?”

Chapter Four

Vela reeled from the recent scrapping match between the men. She’d never seen anything like it, or at least not to this degree. She’d witnessed similar antics when her husband and other Militia Warriors would gather in a knot around the BBQ and do some proverbial chest-thumping.

In this case, however, Samuel had looked ready to tear Merl apart. Fortunately, the Third ascender out-powered Samuel with his own Third ability, otherwise the men would probably have battled for hours.

She’d therefore done the only thing she could think of, which had actually worked, when she’d rained a series of about twenty fireworks down from the ceiling until each stopped his caveman posturing.

Of course, it would have helped more if she’d actually disliked that Samuel had gone caveman on her. At the very least, the breh-hedden had a strong sexual component and watching the warrior exhibit all that possessive behavior had worked her libido like throwing a match on a gasoline-soaked campfire.

Poof, instant blaze.

She knew what had been going on and that Merl had been putting out his own feelers, though she thought his intentions ranged on the side of riling Samuel up.

The discussion had turned, just as it should, to their current predicament, and since her power had led her here, straight to Merl, who lived in some kind of reclusive state on Second, she told him all that she knew, including what she’d seen of Duncan’s horrific imprisonment.

Merl had started out intrigued by what had brought them into his house, but by the end of her narrative, he’d slumped in his chair, took the last drag of his cigarette before folding it away, then released a heavy sigh.

“Well, fuck,” he said succinctly.

Samuel crossed his arms over his chest. “Not helping. But damn if I don’t think you know exactly what’s going on.”

Merl slid his gaze in Samuel’s direction and the men exchanged a long look until Merl finally dipped his chin. “In part. But I’ll begin here. The fact that the two of you were able to engage the darkening grid, and travel between dimensions, tells me that certain warring factions of Third Earth have begun an infiltration of this dimension. Someone’s on the prowl, looking to utilize whatever power Second has to offer, maybe even to take over, who the hell knows.”

“But what does that have to do with us? Why Vela and me?”

Merl shrugged. “I’ve always believed that forces are constantly at work to sustain balance in our dimensional world, and I don’t mean Upper Dimension forces, but something outside our comprehension. Call it the Creator or the Universe, whatever.”

Samuel snorted. “You’re talking metaphysical bullshit.”

Merl met his gaze. “If that idea doesn’t appeal, think of it as genetic intervention, that certain ascenders have genetic markers that get ticked when elements or stressors arise, like war. Then powers emerge, like yours and Vela’s, to counter other darker, more chaotic energies.”

Vela twined a thick lock of her hair around her finger and turned toward Samuel. He’d said that his power had taken hold while he’d been bound by ropes and tortured. And hers had emerged at a time when three rogue generals were about to plunge Second Earth into a new round of war and misery. Maybe Merl was onto something.

She released the lock of hair. “Well, setting philosophy aside, tell us about Third Earth, what’s going on up there?”

“Nasty war. Much worse than Second. You don’t want to get drawn into their conflict but it looks like you just might. The trouble with Third is that there are several factions vying for supremacy right now, not just one.”

“What’s at the heart of the war?” Samuel asked. “Territorial disputes?”

“Vast disputes, going back millennia.”

“Is there a Militia Warrior contingent involved?”

“Yes, spread through the various factions, and each has an elite Warrior of the Blood force as well, which is why the war is so damn problematic; you’ll find men of great worth, slaying other men of equal worth.”

“But haven’t you just described every war that either vampire or humankind has ever waged?” Vela asked.

At that, Merl shifted in her direction and drew in a deep breath. “Samuel,” he said, staring at Vela. “You have a woman of great perception here and of understanding.” To Vela he added, “I believe you’ve spoken a truth, but perhaps only part of it. Not all warriors are honorable. But in the case of Third Earth, imagine Warrior Thorne battling someone just like him, in every respect. Now imagine being unable to get any faction to a negotiating table.”

Once more, he drew a cigarette into his hand, already lit, and dragged deep. She read his story in this simple, habitual reaction to a reminder of no doubt what he’d left behind in his world. Maybe where he’d failed.

She frowned. “Merl, were you kicked out of Third or did you leave on your own?”

He rolled the cigarette between his knuckles, staring at it. “If any of the factions find me, they’ll kill me, which is why your busting through my wall at the end of a grid tunnel pisses the hell out of me.”

“Are you in danger, I mean right now?” She leaned forward slightly.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Depends on the wrecking squad that traced you.”

“So they work in squads,” she stated.

“Yep. And any of the factions can send squads through the darkening grid in order to destroy what they perceive as the enemy. The weapons are sawed off shotguns, very inelegant, but effective, and besides blowing a trespassing ascender to hell, can break through the walls of the grid, which in turn allows for quicker movement.”

“So, they must use explosive shells,” Samuel said.

Merl nodded. “10 gauge. The wrecker’s own power amplifies the shot. You get a goddamn righteous explosion, enough to blow away your target and take down a grid wall, which ain’t easy. Wreckers are a highly specialized and extremely well-paid faction of any army. I worked as one for a couple of decades at the turn of the 20th century. There are limitations, however, but that shotgun makes up for most of them.”

“What happens once a section of grid is destroyed? Does it get repaired?”

“Yep, with crews dedicated to clean-up and others to restoring grid walls. All Third Earth shit, developed centuries ago. You were just lucky that Greaves didn’t catch wind of it but even Chustaffus knew not to encourage that beast.”

“Chustaffus?” A chill shot through Vela, her instincts shouting at her that here was the real enemy.

“The reigning Prince of Darkness. Sort of. He’s never been able to solidify control. But then, I’m not sure control is even what he wants. I used to think it was, but he has a perverted love of chaos. The more he can create, the happier he is.”

“So we were being pursued deliberately.” Samuel rocked on his heels.

The next smoke plume blew in Samuel’s direction. “Do you honestly think it was anything else? From what you’ve told me, the wreckers already had wind of you and had put a trace on Vela’s darkening aura. The moment she returned into the tunnel grid, the trace would have alerted the specific faction’s crew that went after you both.

“But what I really want to know is how the two of you found me. You shouldn’t have been able to.”

Samuel shifted in Vela’s direction, his brow furrowed. “Vela has some kind of built-in guidance system that takes her through the grid. Wouldn’t you say that’s right?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Merl whistled. Glancing from one to the other, his gaze finally landed on Samuel.  “Well, though I’m reluctant to give you any cred at all, you’ve got some serious chops, and you’ve the temper of a Warrior of the Blood, even a Third Warrior. But what I don’t get is where the hell did this power come from? How did it develop? This is Third Earth warrior shit, yet you’re still very much a Second ascender. So, exactly how long have you been releasing this badass mist?”

Vela sensed Samuel’s thoughts shift, a kind of sliding into the dark experiences of his past. His molars moved against each other and his gaze slanted away from Merl. But he spoke of the torture, a few clipped sentences, ending with, “When Duncan found me in Honduras, he basically helped me to escape. I’d been experiencing a growth in power, but that day, it rose unexpectedly, streams of it that I couldn’t control, and I slaughtered those around me, all except Duncan who’d heard me shout at him to get the hell out of there. I didn’t even have a warning it was coming.”

Merl scowled. “Grayle power can be like that, especially when it first arrives. Most warriors have signs of it long before the initial release and a mentor helps control the process. The problem is, no two grayle powers are exactly alike and sometimes bad things happen, like what happened to you.”

“Can those streams be controlled?” Samuel held his breath.

“You have to learn how to access them first.”

Samuel shook his head. “I have no idea how to do that and believe me I’ve tried.”

“Be patient. It’ll come. But can I ask you if you ever saw your torturer?”

“Yes, though I never heard his name spoken. He was a tall motherfucker, built warrior big, finely trimmed goatee, long, thick black hair, black eyes. He wore three braids on each side of his head, the whole mass clipped back. Sound like someone you know?”

Merl stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at his elbow.  Sometimes he used the ashtrays and at other times, he’d fold the lit cigarettes away.  He dropped his head in his hands. “Shit.”

“All right,” Vela said, “Who the hell is he?”

“Sharav. One of Chustaffus’s minions. Well at least now I can frame this, make sense of it. You were essentially in the hands of a madman.”

Samuel snorted. “Hell, I could have told you that. He spent a lot of time hurting my wing-locks.”

Vela shuddered.

But Merl’s chin dipped a couple of times as he looked up at Samuel. “The grayle comes from the locks. Your boy was experimenting on you, trying to create what apparently he succeeded in creating.”

“A freak?”

Merl shook his head. “Sharav made a Third Earth Warrior from basic Second material. But it looks like his plan must have backfired.”

The pronouncement set a vibration in Vela’s bones as her gaze drifted to Samuel. Her instincts boiled, running at her with critical information, that his status as a Third Warrior had great significance in her world and that her darkening power, fully able to engage in Third Earth, meshed with his.

“And when did Sharav capture you?”

“Eleven years ago and I spent a decade in that hellhole.”

“Then they’ve been here awhile.”

“What does that mean?” Vela asked.

Merl met her gaze. “The only access through normal folding has to occur through the Gateway to Third Earth, the one that Warrior Leto now guards. Which means, that one or more of the factions has found a way, through the darkening, to move back and forth between dimensions with no one the wiser.”

Vela shifted in her seat. “Are you able to travel through the darkening?”

Merl once more shook his head. “When I lived on Third, I could, but not from this entrance point and believe me, I’ve tried. Once I set up this gate, I couldn’t go back.”

Vela glanced around his living room. The house looked settled, like it had been inhabited for a long time. The bookshelves opposite had papers stacked on them. A flat screen TV sat on a table by the wall to her left with three ashtrays lined up in front of it. The furniture resembled Danish modern from fifty-years-ago with a lot of light colored wood and simple lines. “So, who are you in this world, on Second Earth I mean?”

“I’m part of a small group of outcast Third Earth ascenders. I’m going to have to meet up with them in about a half-hour and talk over this turn of events. In the meantime, you’ll have to stay put. If you’ve been tagged, as I think you’ve been, spies here on Second will track your movements. Right now, you’re invisible and you should stay that way until I can get you more info.”

“One question,” Samuel asked. “If Sharav has been moving around on Second Earth, why hasn’t he come for me?”

Merl’s lips curved slowly. “Could be a dozen reasons but my guess is that he’s afraid of you on some level, maybe of that part of your power that he can’t control. Doesn’t mean he won’t kill you if he gets the chance.

“And you have to remember, he won’t want his presence on Second known. Any overt operation could blow his cover, which works in your favor. Trust me.”

Vela frowned. “But won’t they come back here, to your gate?”

“Unlikely. Your ability to see the gate is extremely rare and this part of the grid continues on like I don’t even exist. The best the darkening grid operators can do is look for anomalies and investigate. But the grid is so vast, some speculate it’s infinite.”  He frowned before adding, “Now, who’s your mission contact, because I take it you discussed this with your superiors?”

“Madame Endelle.”

His eyes glinted. “She’s one tough hombre.” His gaze slid away, staring at nothing in particular. “God, I loved that whole Mardis Gras thing. If I was just a little older and had more essential power—” He broke off, giving himself a shake. “You should contact her and tell her that we’re here, we exist, and we apologize for not letting her know. She won’t like it, but we agreed early on that the only way we’d survive is to remain incognito.

“In the meantime, the kitchen is that way, as well as a guest suite that I’m turning over to you for the duration until this shitty mess gets sorted. My rooms are on the opposite side of the house. Just sayin’.” He jerked his head behind him. “When you talk to Endelle, block the communication then let her know that you’ll get back to her by midnight and yes I realize that’s six hours from now. But I promise that I’ll do what I can to help you get Warrior Duncan out of that cell before his time’s up. How does that sound? We good?” He rose from his chair and stubbed out his cigarette.

As Vela pressed her thoughts against Samuel’s mind, he turned abruptly in her direction. What do you think? Do you trust our host?

After a moment, he smiled, if ruefully. Yeah, I do, the bastard. To Merl, he said. “It’ll work.”

“Now grab a bite to eat, you two. You have a long night ahead of you on every possible front. Understood?”

“Got it,” Samuel said.

Vela rose as well.

By now, Merl’s smirk, and all his ridiculous flirting, had disappeared. “I’m heading to my rooms then I’ll be gone within the next fifteen-minutes or so.” He glanced at Samuel. “You’ll have the place to yourselves.” But the smirk made a reappearance just as he lifted his arm and vanished.

Vela’s mind took a couple of quick spins then landed on the one fact that put butterflies in her stomach: six hours alone with Samuel.

And the breh-hedden.

Of course, this reality completely overwhelmed her so she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen as she called out, “I’ll see if I can find some stuff for sandwiches, okay?”

“Sandwiches sounds good.”

He wasn’t far behind, his thoughts apparently matching her own since his bitter chocolate scent suffused the air. She barely withheld a groan.

As she rounded the island, topped with a polished slab of light colored granite, she caught sight of a large picture window beyond. Though it was dark outside, her vampire vision, always adjusting, saw the vista as in a dim glow.

Crossing to the window, she said, “Look at this. Merl’s house is perched on a mountainside.” Pine trees framed the sides of the view, but the cliff dropped off to reveal an opposite forested ridge as well as a starry sky beyond.

“Incredible.”

Samuel drew up behind her, and settled his hands on her hips. “Why would he ever want to leave this place?”

“He wouldn’t. He must love it here.”

His thumbs kneaded her waist through her silk blouse. Without thinking she leaned into him and he surrounded her with his arms. The battle harness was stiff but she didn’t care. The sensation felt very familiar.

She’d been without a man for so long and now Samuel was here, the man who had saved Santiago at the Superstitions, who had been with her in the darkening and helped her to escape, who had wrestled Merl because of his jealousy.

His chocolate scent wafted over her nose, drifted inside, and began filtering through her brain. She felt dizzy and her body warmed up all over again.

“That scent of yours,” he whispered against her ear. “The sweetest flowers.” He groaned softly then released her. “I’m going to shower, fold some fresh clothes over here.”

“Right, right.”

She felt him leave, but didn’t turn to look. She was afraid she’d call him back and right now she wanted some space.

What was she doing? Another Militia Warrior?

Maybe she had emerging powers but did that really mean she should get all tangled up with a man whose job could hurt her again?

But knowing that he’d headed to the guest suite didn’t help. She put a hand to her stomach and worked at her breathing a little more as she tried not to picture Samuel out of his kilt and harness, stepping into the shower, that beautiful muscled body of his, the water flowing—”

Six hours alone with Samuel.

A guest suite.

A bed.

She forced her thoughts elsewhere and fortunately, she recalled that for the last hour, she’d essentially left Endelle hanging.

She thought about using her phone, but knew instinctively that would be a mistake. Her telepathy had considerable strength and given the circumstances, she thought what the hell.

She opened her mind to Endelle and just like that the woman was there. Where the hell have you been, ascender? I’ve been pacing my damn office for over half-an-hour. Jesus H. Christ.

Endelle, you need to shield this communication. Can you do that?

Can I do that? What millennium do you think this is? Five thousand BC? Fuck you.

Okay. Not good to question the abilities of an already agitated scorpion queen.

Vela felt Endelle’s shields lock into place and she released a deep sigh.

Okay, start talking, ascender.

I’m sorry, Madame Endelle, but we’re in deep shit, I mean trouble, over here.

‘Shit’ works fine. So spill the beans. What’s going on, and don’t hold anything back like I’m a nut-sack that can’t take pain, got it?

Understood. Vela explained their situation in detail, including everything she knew to-date about Merl.

Endelle was silent for a moment, then asked, So, what does this ascender look like? Did you get a look at his jewels? Is he hung? I might have to pay a call and check out the talent myself.

Vela leaned over, planting her elbows on the island, supporting her head with her hands. She chuckled. Havily had warned her about Endelle’s lack of filters, but she’d never experienced it like this before. Was Merl hung? Oh, dear, God.

As much as I’d like to share my observations with you about Merl Tuttle, I have a little problem. Samuel is already jealous, as in breh-hedden out-of-his-mind jealous, and if he knew I’d started describing this man in detail, I’d have hell to pay. Besides, rumor has it that you’ve got a boyfriend.

You mean that prick, Braulio? He shagged me four weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since. Not one word. Like he dropped off the face of the fucking dimensional world. Again. Asshole. But why the hell am I telling you this?

Vela heard Endelle’s concern, despite her invective, so she asked, Do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?

He’s a goddamn fucking Sixth ascender. The only kind of trouble he could get into is with his dick, so no, I don’t think he’s in trouble, unless of course he shows his face around here again, then I might just destroy all of Metro Phoenix Two making sure I roast his ass.

Note to self. Never mention Braulio again.

Okay, Vela sent. Got it. Anyway, Merl wants us to stick around. He has to talk to his fellow refugees to decide how to move forward.

Endelle fell silent and was so quiet that if Vela hadn’t known better, she would swear she’d ended the conversation. But Vela waited and finally Endelle said, Since you and Samuel trust him, and I have no way of knowing what he can do for you at this point, we’d better ride this mule. Just keep me informed.

Vela would have said a polite ‘yes, of course I will’ or maybe offered a ‘good-bye’, but a sudden break, that sent a brisk shard of pain striking the center of her brain, told her the telepathic call was over.

She took a few more deep breaths until the pain faded then turned to her sandwich idea only to find the fridge empty except for an old dehydrated pizza in a grease-stained box. There was also a quart of milk, but she’d rather shoot herself than do a sniff test.

She twisted her hair around her hand, looked at it, then folded a large clip into her hand. She secured the upper curly-wavy mass into the clip. The last thing she wanted was her ridiculous hair in her food.

Back to her task, she saw that plenty of beer lined the entire middle shelf, so she pulled out two bottles of Guinness, closed the door, then proceeded to fold food from her home fridge onto the counter; sour dough, sharp cheddar, ham, a ripe tomato, bell pepper and a stick of butter. She sliced the vegetables super thin, layered the meat, vegetables, and cheese on the bread, and with butter now sizzling in the large frying pan, started grilling three sets.

She smiled as she worked, sipping the brew between tasks. She remembered how much her husband liked these sandwiches, something she often fixed for him when he’d return from a night’s battling. Then he’d make love to her. What a good man he’d been, irritating at times as all men were, but he’d loved her and told her often. A woman didn’t need much more than that from her man, not really.

She put a finger gently beneath each eye and caught her tears, but she also realized that a year ago, she would have dropped to the floor sobbing all over again at what she’d lost.

Maybe the fifth year had finally softened the pain.

Maybe.

When she heard singing coming from way down the hall, she laughed. Samuel so could not carry a tune.

By the time the cheese had melted and the crust was grilled to a perfect golden color, Samuel walked into the kitchen. “You don’t know how good that smells. Oh, your hair looks nice like that. Pulled back.”

She turned with two plates in her hands and looked him up and down. He wore jeans and an olive green t-shirt, snug across his muscled shoulders and chest. He looked gorgeous, even down to his bare feet. She blinked a couple of times, then said, “Guess which one is yours.” She’d cut all three sandwiches in half, placed a half on her plate, and stacked the rest on his.

He reached out his hands and relieved her of the heavier plate, planted his butt on the closest stool, and started to eat.

His eyes kept rolling back in his head. “You’re a genius.” He repeated the compliment more than once.

Vela brought him his beer shaking her head. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in years, which reminded her not just of what he’d been through in the past decade but that he hadn’t had a woman in his life in a long time. Unless a man liked to cook, his fridge usually looked like Merl’s and take-out was the order of the day.

By the time he finished, he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I wolfed that down. It was just so good. But my God you can cook.”

She started to laugh and couldn’t seem to stop.

“What’s so funny?”

Between chuckles, she somehow managed to say, “I grilled you a couple of sandwiches. That’s all.”

He smiled as well. “What can I say. I usually order pizza.”

“That’s what I thought. Your pal, Merl, does the same.”

He glanced around at the plates. “What do you mean? There’s bread and a couple of tomatoes—”

“Oh, no. This stuff I folded from my house.”

He met her gaze, one elbow on the counter, the kitchen lights soft on his features. “Thank you. I haven’t had such a nice, home-cooked meal in a long time.”

She met his gaze, his smoky gray eyes, and in a slow wave, what had begun at the workout center moved through her, catching up her breath then letting it fall. His pupils dilated and his lips parted. His scent, almost absent while he ate, now flooded the space between them.

She could feel his thoughts like a caress on her skin. Her gaze drifted to his throat and her earlier desire returned. She trembled.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken the vein?” his deep voice had grown deeper, a sound that reached inside her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs.

Five years. “Too long.” She felt paralyzed, though. She wanted to do this with him, but she was frightened of feeling too much for a man whose occupation terrified her.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said softly, but his entire body had tensed up.

Her gaze shifted to his face, his eyes, the tight line of his lips. He swiveled away from her, facing the counter. “I understand if you don’t want to do this. I get it.”

But his scent worked over every inch of her body so that something very low in her abdomen began to vibrate strangely, from front to back, a soft humming sensation she could almost hear. Need crawled through her, need for him, for sex, and for his blood. She put her hand at the small of her back and rubbed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I feel achy right here.” She rubbed the muscles near her tail bone.

He whipped toward her and planted his hand in the same location. “Let me do that for you.”

She caught sight of the ridges along his forehead. He thought she was hurting. Maybe more than even his beautiful scent, or how built he was, that small expression of concern did her in.

His hand low on her back, rubbing her, also had a sudden effect as her spine arched and her body bloomed like never before.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

She ached across her pelvis, deep into her well.

He massaged her. “Is that better?”

“Better?” She didn’t understand the question. It felt wonderful. “Oh, my God. What is that? Don’t stop. I feel— Oh.” And just like that, as though it had been building for hours, an intense orgasm ripped through her so that she called out a long, lusty cry, holding onto the counter for support as he kept pressing his hand rhythmically into her lower back.

When the sensation passed, she grew very still, staring up at the ceiling, her body flooded with the most beautiful sensation. That same vibration lingered, teasing her, so that she knew it would take very little to do that all over again.

“You can stop now,” she murmured.

He drew his hand back frowning at her. “What’s wrong? What the hell just happened? Are you all right? Jesus, Vela. Tell me you’re all right.”

She remained seated for a long, long moment, trying to figure out exactly how to say to Samuel, who she’d met only a few hours ago, that just by rubbing her back, he’d brought her to an amazing climax.

She turned toward him and slipped off the stool to stand close to him, but all she could do was blink.

“Vela, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just ... that is, you … I mean—” She couldn’t get the words out.

He thumbed her lips and slid his arm around her waist. “I think I get it because your fragrance smells just a little different, deeper, richer. “You just came, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how. This has never happened before, not like that.” She drew back, but only far enough to take both his hands and start guiding him in the direction of the guest suite. “Come with me.”

“Vela, are you sure?”

“I don’t know what this is between us, but yeah, we’re doing this. All I know is that I need you inside me and I want your blood and I want both now.”

Chapter Five

Samuel’s biceps flexed and his lower jaw trembled. His mouth flooded with saliva at the thought of taking Vela’s blood. Would it taste like the soft floral fragrance that enveloped him, sweetened by her recent orgasm; woman and flowers and sex? He needed to know.

Whatever rational ability he possessed dropped deep into the ocean of all this sensation. He was hard for her and ready to do whatever she needed him to do and he could feel her need like fire against his skin.

He wanted his hands on her, his mouth, his cock pushing into her.

When he reached the bedroom, he shoved the door shut with his foot just in case Merl returned early.

“You ready for me, warrior?” Her eyelids were low, her breathing ragged. She reached up and released the clip, letting her mane of wild hair flow over her shoulders.

She touched her blouse, folding it away to reveal a sheer bra. Her nipples had formed hard beads and he wanted a taste.

He crossed to her, sliding one arm around her back, then dipping low to suck her left breast through the fabric. She moaned and shed her scent. He played with her damp wing-locks, running his fingers over several of them until she writhed against him as he sucked.

Her hands dipped into his hair, pulling it from the leather straps he used to tie them back. She dove her fingers into the mass and tugged at the back of his neck. Her breast flexed as he sucked.

“Samuel, I’m so close again. My God, what you do to me.”

He drew back and said, “I want to try something with you.”

“Anything.”

He groaned. “You’ll need to be completely undressed.”

She nodded and with a mere thought, removed the rest of her clothes. He grew very still as his gaze drifted down her body, resting on her full breasts, her navel, her bare lower lips.

For a moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t remember what he’d had in mind. He nodded a couple of times, more to clear his head than anything else. Then he remembered and hissed softly.

“Now lie back on the bed.”

She stretched out and with her body prone she became a banquet for him. He leaned over her, off to the side of her legs, because for what he had in mind he needed both his hands free. He started to rub her lower abdomen, back and forth with one hand. “How does this feel?”

Her lips parted. “Oh,” came out in a long, soft moan, then, “Good.”

He massaged lightly back and forth over her pelvis.

“Are you feeling something similar, like at the island?”

“Yes, like a vibration, a humming.”

He massaged deeper.

Her body arched. “Oh, that’s heaven.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Like waves of pleasure, wherever your hand moves.”

“Pull your knees up.”

She obeyed and with his free hand he stroked the inside of her leg, pushing toward her groin. Her right thigh rested against his body. At the same time, he continued to rub her abdomen, watching her stomach muscles flex and relax over and over, as her hips begin to rock.

He moved his right hand further down her thigh, then rippled the back of his fingers over her lower lips. She whimpered. He did this several times, watching her face and her abdomen. She was very wet.

Using two fingers, he slid inside. She arched her back and cried out. Slowly, he moved his fingers in and out. He wanted to bring her like this, to watch her come.

He kept massaging her abdomen on the outside as he thrust his fingers inside. Her hips pushed back, her neck arched, and she cried out. He drove his fingers faster. Her cries sharpened and fell from her lips one after the other until he could feel her internal muscles pulsing with ecstasy as she came.

She was so beautiful, her moans, her mouth open, her hands gripping the comforter, her hips pushing against his hand, reaching for that last bit of pleasure.

When at last she settled down, breathing hard, she turned to look at him. “That was wonderful. Amazing. Your touch is almost magical.” The words were hushed, then she sighed deeply.

He rose up, easing back. He continued to rub the inside of her thigh, the opposite leg now slack.

“Your turn,” she said, a sated smile on her lips. “But I think you should lose the clothes.”

He moved to stand between her legs, still spread for him so that his view was exactly what he wanted. He loved a woman’s body, that her sex was a secret place to seek, find, and explore.

As he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, she lifted up on her elbows to watch, so he stripped slowly. He was built, a happy effect of his warrior job and of working out. He gave her the show she wanted, removing his shirt slowly and at the same time flexing various muscles and watching her gaze rove his shoulders, his pecs, his biceps.

He put his hand on his abs and flexed, then let his fingers glide slowly down his stomach. Her gaze followed. She’d already felt his arousal more than once, but she hadn’t actually seen him.

He wanted her to have a good look, to see what would soon be inside her while he pierced her neck and took from her. He lowered his jeans, his cock jutting at a strong angle.

To his surprise, she moved, and was off the bed, before he had a chance to think or to react. She fell on her knees on the floor in front of him, her hands on his hips as her mouth surrounded his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered into the cool air of the room, her warm mouth a fire around him.

She suckled.

Oh, God, she sucked, deep pulls, bringing him as far into her mouth as she could get. She dipped her fingers below and teased his testicles.

Her head bobbed as she set a rhythm. It felt too damn good. He waited though, lasting as long as he could while watching the mass of her blond hair move up and down.

But it was too much.

He pulled back. “I could come so easily like this, but I want more from you right now.”

She looked up at him, holding her mouth in a beautiful round shape. She nodded. “Samuel, there’s something I want from you, in this position first.”

He frowned, not understanding. “What?”

“I want your vein like this, while I’m on my knees. Or would it be too much?”

Her words stunned him, that she would want to take him low like this.

Would it be too much? Maybe. But he didn’t care. He loved that she wanted to drink from him at his groin and something inside his heart began to open and lean toward her. She was so free with her body, enjoying him. He’d never allowed anyone to get this close before, not in his long century of ascended life. Never.

He looked down at his cock, twitching with need. “I think it’ll be okay.”

She leaned forward, kissed his groin and began swiping her tongue over his skin in long sweeps, a signal for the vein to rise.

He trembled. He wanted to feel her fangs. “Take your fill, Vela.” His most primal nature needed more than anything for his woman to have what she needed.

With one hand she held onto his hip and with her other, she rounded his body and gripped his ass.

Her head bobbed as she licked his skin, coaxing his vein to rise for her. He could feel the swelling a vampire could create, the vein rising, pushing upward, seeking the sharp points of a fang.

His cock responded, loving the attention. He had hard-on-hard right now.

Show me your fangs, he sent.

She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. She parted her lips and there they were, two sharp elegant points.

“Do it,” he commanded, his voice deep.

She turned, angled her head, and struck to the exact right depth. He shouted at the jab, followed by the sucking of her mouth, taking deep pulls from his life-blood.

He put a hand on her head and grunted his pleasure, as much from the sight of her sucking his vein as from the knowledge that he gave her something every vampire needed.

She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his ass. After a couple of minutes, she pulled back and he could feel the wounds closing up.

She arched her neck upward so that he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, a blush on her cheeks, her lips red. His groin felt wounded and well-used and he loved it.

“I feel stronger,” she said.

“You look beautiful.”

She rose to her feet. “I know what I want, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

He kissed her. “I’ll give you anything right now, anything you ask.”

“When I was at the counter earlier, your pressure on the small of my back, your touch, brought me. I want you to take me from behind and use your hand again, just like that.”

He shuddered because the thought of taking her in that position lit him up.

She smiled and kissed him. “I take it the idea appeals.”

“Hell, yeah, it does.”

She slipped from his arms and bent over, not to get into position but to pull the covers back.

But the sight of her like that gave Samuel a different idea. He stepped close to her, almost unable to control himself. “Let me try something first. Bend over, but keep your feet on the floor. I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Hey, anything you want, I’m game.”

Okay, he took a couple of breaths as she stretched out on the bed, her legs over the side, her ass rounded, firm, gorgeous. She pulled her hair over one shoulder so that he had a perfect view of her damp wing-locks.

“I need to taste you,” he murmured.

She groaned softly.

He adjusted her legs, spreading her feet apart then dropped to his knees and dipped low, swiping his tongue over her swollen flesh, then thrust his tongue inside her. She whimpered.

You taste as I thought you would, like the sweetest flower. I could eat you like this forever. He set about proving himself as he dipped inside repeatedly.

He could tell she was almost ready to come again, so he quickened his tongue-thrusts and as she’d asked, he massaged her lower back with his right hand.

She groaned first, a heavy, muffled sound against the comforter. Her hips writhed, then suddenly she arched her back and screamed. He continued the brisk plunging and the massaging until the orgasm rolled through her completely and her body began to loosen. Only then, when he was sure the last of the ecstasy had drifted away, did he stop.

A warrior could get used to this. He never took women to his home, his bed. But somehow the thought of Vela being there one day made his heart swell again. Was this the breh-hedden or was he really starting to feel something for this woman, something surprising?

She lifted herself up on her elbows and while looking back at him, she tugged her hair farther to the side, exposing her throat. “How about we go the distance and you tap my vein?”

He might have grunted something in response or growled, he wasn’t sure. Maybe a combination of both.

He positioned himself behind her and holding his cock got the right fit then he began to push. She moaned with each thrust of his hips.

“Heaven,” she said.

“You feel like heaven.” He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her pulling on him as her hips pushed back with each thrust.

Her winglocks released fluids so that more of her scent reached him, that sweet, almost familiar floral scent that he couldn’t quite place. He leaned over her and gently sucked on one of her wing-locks, which were extremely sensitive. A long low moan left her throat.

“Samuel, you’re killing me.”

“Ride it, Vela. Ride it hard.” He sucked some more.

She panted several times then her voice rose in pitch until she was crying out once more, pleasure peaking, as he sucked her wing-lock and kept his cock hitting her just right, stroke after stroke.

But the flavor of her winglock moisture triggered something deep inside, something primal. He shifted so that he could reach the side of her neck. He licked her throat and drove his cock into her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please, yes.”

He licked over and over until her vein rose. He paused in his thrusts only long enough to bite hard once, retract and suck, then put his hips back to work.

Vela was strong and held her position beautifully. Taking her blood down his throat built a new fire in his body, giving him stamina. He pumped into her now, as he sucked, and each thrust sent a cry from her throat.

“Oh, God, Samuel,” she cried out.

He sped up but finally released her throat. He held onto her hips and slammed into her. He felt her tighten and his orgasm arrived, a blinding pinnacle of white light and erotic pleasure, lightning streaking through his cock, flying up through his body, until the room spun. He shouted as he thrust, matching her cries that filled the room.

Then something happened and he could feel himself reloading. What the fuck?

“I’m going to come again,” rushed out of his mouth.

“Good. I’m ready. I don’t know what this is, but it’s amazing. I think it was taking your blood.”

She was so tight. He pummeled her once more and felt her release just as he came again, ecstasy carrying him along, doubling at the sounds of her cries and moans until at last she collapsed forward and he landed on top of her, spent.

He breathed hard, hoping to hell his weight didn’t crush her.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “That was unbelievable. If this is the breh-hedden, please give me more.”

He’d been thinking the same thing. He’d never come twice like that but her blood had changed him, made him stronger.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He kissed her cheek, and pushed her hair away from her face.

“No, not at all.”

When he could breathe again, he folded a washcloth from the bathroom into his hand and as he withdrew from her, he pressed it against her body. She turned on the bed and adjusted the cloth. He stretched out beside her, tugging her into his arms. Her lax, sated body flowed over his, an arm over his chest, a leg over his legs.

You feel so good, he sent, mind-to-mind.

I didn’t expect this.

Me, neither. I thought— He cut off the words that he’d been ready to stream through her mind.

But she drew back to look at him. “You thought what?”

For a moment, he debated saying what was on his mind. But as he met her large blue, compassionate eyes, he let himself go. “Because of my power, I was reconciled to living by myself. I never even thought about having a woman in my life. But now, I mean, this is so damn fast—” What else could he say that wouldn’t sound really stupid, like he’d known her twenty-four hours but could actually see himself being with her, loving her, spending the rest of his life with her?

She kissed him, a long lingering kiss. When she pulled back again, she said, “I know what you mean. This is kind of ridiculous and so unexpected. But at the same time, extraordinary.”

His heart grew buoyant, a balloon barely tethered in place.

“You’re extraordinary,” he said, rubbing her arm lightly. He wanted to do this all over again. “I want to know everything about you.”

Still looking at him from within his tight embrace, she caressed his face. He moaned softly and turned to kiss the palm of her hand.

Enter my mind, she sent.

Had he heard her right? He met her gaze again. “You want me to mind-dive? Deep mind engagement?”

“I want you to know me. We’re in this, Samuel. And my instincts tell me that we’re in trouble, real trouble. The better you know who I am, the better we’ll be able to function together. But I can feel your hesitation.”

Hesitation didn’t begin to describe what he felt. “I have to be honest with you; I’m completely opposed to the idea because I won’t be able to return the favor. My power is unstable. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you. But beyond that, Vela, that prison was the worst nightmare you can imagine.”

* * * * * * * * *

Vela met his worried gaze, squinting as if in pain. “You’re afraid I’ll see those images.”

“Mind-diving doesn’t just release one image, it releases from the pool of everything I’ve experienced. I doubt it’s controllable.”

“No, I guess not.” She thought about her marriage. Samuel would see it all, the good and the bad, the love-making, the fights. She’d once thrown out an entire salmon dinner because of some comment Jeff had made.

She chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny? I don’t think this is funny at all.”

So, she told him about the salmon and he started to laugh. He kept chuckling on and off. “Please don’t tell me you think that’s your worst flaw that you get ticked off and toss out perfectly good food.”

“No, I guess not. But I’ll tell you what I do know; that I trust you enough to let you in, enough to let you see whatever is there.”

She forced herself to relax, to breathe. She thought about her darkening ability, about Duncan and Merl, and that she had just had mind-blowing sex with Warrior Samuel. For months now, she’d been feeling an internal pressure, a need to be doing something, she just hadn’t known what. She had thought it would be related to Fiona’s rehab center, now she wasn’t sure at all because this felt right, being with Samuel and engaging her darkening power.

A new path had grabbed her and she didn’t want to hold back, not now. She suspected that her life, her survival, would depend on forging ahead with strength and commitment, that nothing less would do.

She shifted her body so that her legs slid off of his and she lay completely on her side next to him. She planted a hand on his muscular chest and for a split-second almost got lost in his physicality.

She blinked a couple of times and cleared her head. “Do this, Samuel. I don’t know the why of it, but it’s important. Do some deep-mind engagement and let’s see what happens. Okay?”

He shifted toward her and kissed her, then leaned back and closed his eyes. She watched him for a moment. He had fine lines beside his eyes and even now a certain tightness characterized his expression.

When she felt his mind approach hers, she closed her eyes as well. But when she started to slide her hand off his chest, he caught and held it, which made her heart leap in a way she didn’t think was wise at all. The first flutter of love awakened in her heart. Was it too much to ask that she might actually fall in love with this man as well?

She set the thought aside and relaxed her mind. She felt him approach like a soft caress. Mind-diving was so different from telepathy, which was essentially a mere laying of words over the mind.

But this, as Samuel pushed the barrier of her mind and slipped inside, was incredible. He was there now, a formidable presence in her mind, more than she’d expected. She understood something about him right then, that Samuel didn’t really know the extent of his dark power, this Third Earth ability birthed during his captivity.

Of course, a new problem emerged since she really liked him being inside her mind.  Her body heated up instantly, her breasts tingling.

He chuckled softly. You like me here. Your scent is flowing from you.

I’m tempted all over again. Next time, be inside me like this.

He moaned. Okay, this isn’t helping. It seems to take so little.

Right. She forced herself to breathe.

Focus on where you were born.

Good idea. She aimed her thoughts into the past, remembering her parents and living in Philadelphia Two in the early 1800s, in what was then, by comparison, a small town. Learning to fly, almost drowning when she flew too close to a lake and her wings got caught in the water, which had been a nightmare. Riding horses and loving it. Growing up and falling in and out of love. Learning to play the piano, expected of a woman in those days. Then choosing a life of travel for a long time, folding from town to town, getting to know her local American world, north and south, learning several languages.

She’d had itchy feet, never wanting to stay long in one place. She’d taken many lovers and felt Samuel tense when a lovemaking image would flow through her thoughts.

Then a close call with a death vampire in 1922, slain by a Militia Warrior, a man who had finally spoken to her heart deeply enough that she’d married him. Jeff Barker. The grief of being childless and overcoming that grief. Of living with him for decades until his death five-years-ago. How much she’d loved making their house a true home, which she still lived in, a small piece of property near the downtown Borderland. Without thinking, she fell into her grief, remembering how often she’d wept, screamed, shouted. At one point, she almost pulled back, but Samuel whispered through her mind, No, let me see it. Please.

She felt his permission to just feel all that she had lost so she did. He caressed her hand at the same time. What surprised her was that as she remembered Jeff’s funeral pyre, Samuel’s presence within her mind became a tremendous comfort. He even reached for her and pulled her on top of him and held her in his arms as once again she wept for the man she had loved and lost to the war.

Somewhere in that shedding of grief, Samuel withdrew from her mind so that when she stopped crying she felt an emptiness that stunned her. But he cradled her gently, the heat of his male body soothing her. She sighed heavily.

“You loved him.”

“So very much. But thank you for being with me like this. I don’t feel quite so heartsick right now.”

“Good. You’re an amazing woman.”

“No, I’m not.” She chuckled. “I’m just me. I know I don’t have Havily’s style and ambition or Endelle’s flamboyance and power. I don’t see myself fitting in with these incredible women. I’m just me.”

“Then you don’t see yourself clearly, how you picked up and left home to travel at a time when even female ascenders didn’t move around all that much. And then when you married your warrior, how you gave yourself completely to marriage, nothing held back. That’s a great quality to have.”

“But I have to work at it. The reason I traveled the way I did wasn’t just because I thought it would fun or enriching, but because when I almost drowned I became afraid of the world and afraid to live. Traveling was a way to overcome that.”

“But don’t you see, most people don’t even take that step. They stay stuck. Shit.”

“What?”

“Like me. I’m stuck. This is the first time I’ve seen even a pinpoint of light at the end of this tunnel.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing to at least try a mind-dive with me. I mean, you had a life before being captured. Maybe you could just work to release those images.”

She felt his resolution, however, that he was determined to keep his years of torture from her. So, she let it go.

Instead, she asked him what his favorite food was - lasagna - and a dozen other things that he could answer freely, which he did. He’d been a Militia Warrior since his ascension out of St. Louis One in 1908. He’d served as part of many civic policing forces throughout North America Two, battling death vampires in a squad of four warriors night in and night out.

He liked tequila, maybe a little too much. He spent plenty of time at the Blood and Bite, but refused to answer specific questions about the mortal women who frequented that establishment. He’d only been assigned to the Phoenix Metro area six months before he was taken.

“I’ve been a warrior all my life. Even on Mortal Earth, I’d intended on becoming a Marine when I received my call to ascension.”

By now she lay on her side next to him, leaning her head on her hand, her elbow on the bed supporting her so she could look at him as he spoke. He still lay on his back, his arm over his head.

“What was that like?” she asked, curious as all Twolings were, born on Second Earth, about the experience of a rite of ascension. “I’d love to mind-dive just to see what it was like for you. Did you have a Guardian of Ascension?” All really powerful ascenders received Guardians of Ascension to keep them safe from the enemy who wanted to either subvert them and use their power or to kill them outright.

He shook his head. “No, not at all. Nothing like that. I had a liaison officer who was so bored with her job that I—” He cut off his thought.

“What?” she cried. Then she shoved him with her hand. “You bonked her.”

He smiled but he looked embarrassed as well. “What can I say? That pretty much summed up my rite of ascension. I spent three days in the sack with her.”

Vela laughed. “She didn’t want more afterwards?”

“No. We both knew it was just sex and besides, I went into the Militia Warrior Training Camp right afterward.”

“Straight away? Not even one question that this was the right path?”

“Nope. I knew what I was. But let me tell you, the day I mounted my wings for the first time was unbelievable.” He turned to look at her, his arm still angled over the top of his head. “You want to go flying some time?”

She moaned softly. “I’d love it. I haven’t been flying—” she broke off, took a deep breath, then added, “Not in five years. I mount my wings of course to keep them healthy, but no, I haven’t been flying in a long time.”

“Then we’ll go. Have you ever flown off the Mogollon Rim in Sedona?”

“One of my favorites, catching the currents that stream down all those gullies, and inlets, through the canyon.”

“We’ll do that,” he repeated, nodding.

He was more open than she’d supposed he would be. Then he turned the tables, but instead of asking her questions, he told her what he knew about her from mind-diving. He spoke for a long time as he recalled the images he’d seen.

She laughed at some, was embarrassed by others, let a few more tears fall, and finally got all worked up when he mentioned a couple of her lovers and began growling against her neck. One thing led to another and he was inside her again, thrusting hard and making her groan, whimper, and cry out all over again.

She fell asleep afterwards, not even aware she’d done so.

Samuel woke her up much later by caressing her arm gently and whispering, “It’s eleven thirty. Our chain-smoking host will be back soon.”

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel heard Merl calling to him, just as Vela emerged from the bathroom, her thick blond hair, now loose with that wild look he really liked. She wore fresh clothes; a pair of dark blue jeans and a light blue tank. She shrugged into a mottled blue sweater. She wore black flats. He had to restrain a sudden impulse to take her in his arms again.

He cleared his throat. “Merl’s back.”

He felt her tense up immediately, aware, just as he was, that they’d be taking their next step right now.

He took her hand. “We’ll figure this out.” He’d been making war a long time, but Vela had no experience at all, which set his nerves on edge. From the brief encounter he’d had with the darkening, the wreckers had power, skill, and deadly intent. And he had no idea how they’d be able to get around them to secure Duncan and pull him out of his Third prison.

But then again, some problems could only be solved one step at a time.

He led her back to the open, tall-ceilinged living room, but he didn’t get far. Damn that Merl. The bastard was dressed to kill in a too-tight black t-shirt, his pecs flexing below the ceiling pot-lights. He wore black leather pants and boots with silver goddamn buckles. His dark hair, combed straight back, gave him that come-and-get-it look.

And he wore his smirk with fucking pride, his hazel eyes flashing with challenge.

Still holding Vela’s hand, Samuel pulled her close, but she shoved at him. “You’re hurting me.”

He turned to her scowling. “What?”

She held up their joined hands. “This hurts. Let go. Now.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” The breh-hedden had fired up his caveman instincts, putting them in overdrive. He released her hand, but he couldn’t help stepping in front of her just a little.

He heard her groan and he was pretty sure she’d just rolled her eyes. She breezed past him anyway, which ignited two disparate sensations at once: a sudden profound desire to haul her back to the bedroom and teach her what she needed to know about being his woman and pride that she wasn’t cowed by his stupid behavior.

Conflicted as he was, he followed after her and somehow managed to keep his hands to himself. At least she had the good sense to stop fifteen-feet away from Merl. Any closer, and he’d be wrestling all over again with a man who clearly had more power than he did. But like hell he would care about that. Maybe he’d tap into more of his power and wouldn’t that be a kick in the balls for the asshole still smirking at him.

“Don’t tell me you wasted all this time I gave you in a perfectly empty house,” Merl taunted. “What? Couldn’t get it up?”

That did it. He started to release his dark power when suddenly Vela stood in front of him, both hands planted on his chest. “We are so not doing this,” she shouted.

He took a step back. He even lifted both hands in surrender.

He was about to start apologizing or something, but Vela then turned all that feminine rage on Merl. “And you! You’re the worst. Why do you taunt my man like that?”

Her man? She’d called him her man? He started growling a soft kind of purr as he moved in behind her.

But she jerked away from him again and shook her finger at him. “Would you please get hold of this caveman shit before I go ballistic.” She turned the same menacing finger on Merl. “Both of you!”

When Merl also did his face-the-sheriff stance, hands up, she flared her nostrils in the prettiest way, lifted one brow, then shifted slowly in Merl’s direction. “Okay, that’s a little better. Now what did your Third refugee associates have to say about our little predicament? How do we get to Duncan?”

“I hate to tell you this, but after debating your situation for the past several hours, we don’t have an answer. You can’t get to him.”

“What? What do you mean we can’t?”

He shrugged. “You fucking can’t. Ascender Alison closed up the Gateway to Third right after she opened it. And I think Sixth Ascender, James or Braulio, or whatever the hell his name is, added his own mojo. That baby’s locked up tight. No one in, no one out.”

“But you said Third Ascenders have been making their way into this dimension.”

“I think Sharav may have rigged something up, but I sure as hell don’t know how to access it.”

“I just don’t understand,” Vela said. “I know that Grace could fold to Fourth, no problem.”

“Fourth is a more advanced, open society. They went through the Council of Sixth, millennia ago, and as a society agreed to open their Gateway. The Council has a say in all Gateway matters. But Fourth is the exception.

“And since Second Earth contains generally less powerful entities, except Endelle of course and Thorne, who is showing immense promise, well, it looks like Sharav, no doubt with Chustaffus’s blessing, has found a way through.”

Vela looked back at the wall that held the darkening gate. “What if we got hold of a wrecker’s shotgun. We could then blow a hole in the darkening wall of Duncan’s prison and bring him out that way.”

“What a great plan,” Merl said sarcastically. At the same time, he drew a lit cigarette into his hand from who knew where. He took a long pull, one eye squinting. “Just tell me one thing: How are you going to get a weapon away from a goddamn wrecker?”

Vela narrowed her gaze. “You know, for a man with power, you sure don’t show much game.”

Samuel snorted. Merl blew smoke in Vela’s direction. “I’m gonna let that go because you have no idea what would be involved.”

“Then tell us, so we can be astounded at how stupid my suggestion was.”

He sank into what seemed to be his favorite corner chair, leaning his head against the back cushion. He stared at Vela, but no smirk this time. Samuel liked him like this, less smooth, more I’m pissed at you.

“Fine. Your first problem is that wrecker weapons are identified, like swords. And I don’t know anyone who can alter an identification like that.”

But Vela glanced at Samuel. “I do. Alison altered Leto’s sword identification at the Tolleson arena battle.”

“That’s right.” Samuel hadn’t yet escaped from his captivity when Alison went through her rite of ascension, a process that for her had involved battling Warrior Leto in an arena, sword-on-sword. “I heard about that.”

Merl puffed on his cigarette again. “But swords are different than wrecker weapons.”

Vela waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s say we get hold of a weapon, and we can alter the identification, what next? You’ve operated one, how do you use it?”

Merl frowned at her, his brows pinching together. “You’re serious.”

“I think it’s a place to begin. So unless you have a better idea?”

“Fine. I suppose if wrecker technology hasn’t changed all that much in fifty years, you just pull the trigger while releasing a jolt of your own personal power. But I think you’re out of your mind to even consider doing this. So why are you?”

“It’s simple. I know Duncan, and Rachel is my friend.”

“Who’s Rachel?” He took another drag, his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Duncan’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. Mostly off. So, let’s just say that I believe it’s my duty to do everything I can to help Duncan. His plight came to me in a darkening vision and that’s all that needs to be said anymore. I go where I’m called, just as I came here when we were being pursued by wreckers.”

Merl shifted his gaze to the toe of his boot. “You’re an idealist.”

Vela laughed. “No, I’m not. Far from it, and I do understand the hopelessness of this situation. But I don’t intend to give up.”

He met her gaze once more. “Even it means dying in the process?”

Vela didn’t shift her gaze from Merl. “Yes, even if it means dying.”

“Well, fuck.”

Chapter Six

Vela heard the words come out of her mouth, but she still didn’t quite believe that she’d become this person, where her new darkening power was concerned. Yet there seemed no alternate response to the truth that her power had brought her to Duncan’s cell. Responsibility for him had descended on her; and she would see this through, even in the face of death.

Samuel worked his molars again. “I think we need to bring Alison and Fiona in on this.”

Vela frowned. “I can understand Alison, but why Fiona?”

“Because she has the ability to enhance power. If the four of us were in the darkening, and figured out a way to draw one of the wreckers close enough, I could use my dark power and force the weapon away from the wrecker. Then Alison could do her thing.”

“Can she even reconfigure a weapon like that?”

“Well, we’d know soon enough. Then once we had the weapon, we could go after Duncan.”

“It won’t work.” Merl rested his jaw on his curved hand, his fingers holding the lit cigarette away from his face.

“Which part?” Vela turned to Samuel because they’d each said the same thing at the same time. She smiled and his lips curved. He nodded.

“Well, first,” Merl said, “wreckers never work alone. They patrol in squads of three, so you’re talking about battling three Third Earth, very powerful warriors, each with an identified weapon. But let’s say the whole thing with Alison and Fiona works and you gain possession of at least one of the weapons, without dying, by then the grid monitors would have already detected a point of chaos. Add that to a loss of contact with the wreckers and the monitors would have already sent in another squad after you. Before you even figured out how to fire the damn thing, they’d be up your ass.”

“Then we get the weapon and come back here,” Samuel said. “Simple.”

“Simple, huh? For a Militia Warrior, you’ve got balls.”

“Is that a compliment, Merl?”

Merl puffed on his cigarette, eye squinting. “Just commenting on your general stupidity,” he countered, holding back the smoke then blowing it out in a quick stream. “All right, let’s break it down. How do you plan on facing-off three Third Earth wreckers, each with a weapon that could blow your ass into a million pieces?”

“We get Thorne in on this and Warrior Leto after he’s morphed into his beast-state.”  Leto had developed a new power in that he could increase his size and strength by just a thought.

With the addition of two of the most powerful vampires on Second Earth, Vela felt confident that the plan could work, although they had one more step to take.

She turned toward Samuel. “Despite Merl’s objections, I think this is a good place to start, but we’re going to need Madame Endelle in on this. She’s got to be informed every step of the way because this is about Third Earth. If she has a new threat on her hands, she’ll need all the details we can provide. Besides, I’m pretty sure that she won’t give us Leto and Thorne without some convincing.”

Merl sat forward in his chair and stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray at his elbow. “Yeah, you should definitely include Endelle.”

Samuel snorted. “Now why am I not surprised.”

“Fuck off.”

“Back atcha, asshole.”

“Are you two going to start that again?”

Merl glared at her. “Only if your boyfriend doesn’t shut the fuck up.”

She leveled her gaze at Samuel. Though he opened his mouth, his chin at a stubborn angle, he returned her stare, grimaced, then swallowed his retort.

Vela drew her phone from her pant pocket and called Jeannie at Central. “Hey, girl. Yeah, it’s me, smack dab in the middle of hell, carrying my hand-basket.”

“Heard it’s the breh-hedden?”

Vela tensed up then forced herself to relax. So it was now common knowledge. But after what had happened in the workout center, she could hardly expect anything different. “Yeah. It is.”

“You deserve it, Vela, that kind of love. And I wouldn’t say that to just anyone.”

“Thank you, Jeannie. You’re such a good friend.”

“You’re welcome. So what’s your breh like? Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is talking about Warrior Samuel. I heard a rumor he’s the next Warrior of the Blood. Do you think it’s possible?”

She glanced at Samuel whose lips were compressed as he tried to ignore Merl. Merl kept waving his fingers toward Samuel.

She interceded on a whisper. “Stop that.” Merl smirked, but he lowered his arm. “You’re worse than my brothers growing up.”

“Stop what and who’s worse?” Jeannie asked.

“Nothing and nobody. Listen, as soon as I’m out of this fix, let’s get coffee, okay?”

“You bet. Now how can I help?”

“I need a secure location, probably the palace, to bring over a Third ascender with a Peter Pan complex, myself, and Warrior Samuel.”

“A Third ascender?”

“You heard me right.”

Jeannie whistled. “I’ve already got orders from Her Supremeness to do whatever you wanted. I have the fold set. Tell me when.”

“Let me check.” She held her phone by her leg and asked if the men could stop posturing long enough to join Endelle at the palace.

But Samuel held his hand up for a moment, then waved it once over his body. Poof: flight battle gear, including that damn sexy leather kilt.

Vela may have weaved slightly on her feet. After swallowing hard, she asked, “Can I give Jeannie the word?”

Samuel nodded.

Merl did the same.

Bringing her phone back to her ear, she said, “Fold at will.”

Central had a lot of power and the sudden brisk ride through nether-space was smooth as silk. Some believed that the disappearing-reappearing power typical of all five Upper Dimensions wasn’t about dematerialization at all, but the folding of space, hence the term. The debate still raged in all the major universities, but it was one of those theories hard to prove.

Whatever it was, Vela had always enjoyed folding-travel.

And as before, the moment she started down the ramp, Samuel took her hand in his.

Merl glanced around. “Some digs. Ro-tun-das.” The sing-song way he spread the word out made Vela chuckle.

“White mar-ble,” he added.

More sing-song, more laughter.

She turned to smile at him, but Samuel caught her eye and glared. He’s flirting.

Now she smiled at Samuel. No he’s not. He’s just being himself and he’s funny.

What-the-fuck-ever.

She chuckled some more, but squeezed his hand. I think he wants to meet Endelle more than anything else.

Ya think?

Then you should stop worrying about his designs on me.

He’s the kind of man who has designs on every woman.

This time, she met his gaze as they moved into Thorne’s Command Center. And you don’t?

This time, his lips curved and he didn’t quite meet her in the eye as he said, Used to.

Just as I thought, though she squeezed his hand again.

Thorne left one of the nearest stations and led them once more to Endelle’s private suite explaining that Jeannie had already let him know what was happening and that Endelle was on her way.

Vela moved to the far end of the couch, but Samuel chose to stand near her off to the side of the adjacent purple chair. Samuel introduced Merl, who had planted his feet opposite the couch, his arms folded over his chest.

Thorne held Merl’s gaze forcefully, like he knew exactly what game Merl played. But Merl stared back unaffected. Given the stature of each, the stare lasted a long time.

Merl appeared to enjoy pissing contests.

She wondered what Endelle would think of Merl.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel thought Merl had probably jumped from the womb playing with fire because the moment Endelle entered the room, he turned the force of his flirtations on the leader of Second Earth.

Merl made a long speech, saying things about being humbled to meet She Who Would Live and that he’d looked forward to this moment for five decades. He took her hand, kissed her fingers.

Samuel had heard Endelle had hooked up with the Sixth ascender, Braulio, who, rumor had it, was also the Sixth ascender, James. Weird fucking times on Second Earth.

What the hell is he doing? Vela slipped into Samuel’s mind easily. And he liked it.

He glanced down at her, met her gaze, and shrugged. Hell if I know. But Braulio had better make an appearance pretty quick.

No, shit.

Samuel withheld a smile, but he met Thorne’s astonished gaze. Thorne shook his head as though he couldn’t figure Merl out either.

A moment later, Alison and Fiona entered, looking puffy-eyed but beautiful from being awakened in the middle of the night. At first, Samuel thought Merl might attempt to spread his charms in their direction, but he remained fixed on Endelle, a predatory glint in his eye.

Endelle, however, turned a shoulder to the interloper, made the introductions to Alison and Fiona, then had Vela lay out her plans.

The women listened quietly, eyes wide.

“Can you do this for us?” Vela asked.

“Of course,” Alison said.

Fiona nodded.

Vela addressed Alison. “And you think you could reconfigure one of the shotguns?”

“I’ll know as soon as I approach one.” Alison repressed a yawn and blinked a couple of times. She had a flying toddler at home and needed her sleep.

“We’ll want Leto as well,” Endelle said. “You three women need to work on these skills and see what you can figure out. We’ve got to get a wrecker weapon, one that will take down a darkening grid wall, so that we can pull Duncan out of his cell. Are we all clear on this?”

Nods and murmurs followed.

Samuel had to admit he felt oddly comfortable in this room, as though his dark power recognized the other ascenders. Which sparked other thoughts, not so pleasant, like his deepest fears that somewhere in this necessary exercise, his currently dormant streams of energy would hurt one of these people accidentally.

He corralled his thoughts, however, and focused on Vela. She appeared calm, but her foot bounced, not surprisingly. His role to support and defend was one thing, but Vela led the charge.

Endelle’s voice intruded. “All right, let’s give the women some space to work.”

Thorne led the way for the men and Endelle to leave the room. Once well into the next rotunda, he drew the party to a stop and asked for more details about the darkening grid, the explosions, and Duncan’s cell.

Samuel knew the drill and gave as many relational points as he could; length of travel time, dimension of the cell, the changing state of the floor as one location surpassed the next, the size of the grid tunnels, and anything else that came to mind. Merl added what he knew as well.

Thorne listened intently, his hazel eyes shifting between both men.

When Samuel finished his account, Thorne called out to Jeannie and requested Leto to join them right away. Leto had taken Thorne’s sister, Grace, as his breh, so that essentially they were brothers-in-law.

Leto arrived within the next few minutes but Endelle’s first words were, “We’ll need you in your beast-state. You, Thorne, and Samuel are headed to Third in the darkening.”

Leto’s brows rose and though he stared back from faintly astonished blue eyes, he merely nodded.  With a blur of movement, he morphed into what he called his beast state, although he appeared exactly the same, just bigger.  And taller.

Samuel hadn’t seen him this close up, but even he could agree the warrior looked like a god. “Fuck,” he drawled.

“Get used to it.” But the words came from both Merl and Leto at the same time.

“I take it this kind of thing is common on Third Earth?” Endelle pivoted toward Merl.

“It is.”

Endelle held his gaze. “So we’re really in this.”

His crooked smile spoke his compassion. “Looks like it.”

Endelle glanced at Samuel. “Bring Leto up to speed.”

Samuel laid it out, all that had happened as well as the current plan. But it was Merl who picked up the thread and gave the missing details about the wrecking squads. He explained what the warriors would be up against, how quickly the squads could move, how powerful they were, the nature of the weapons, and the odds looked pretty bad.

“What about you, Merl?” Endelle said, breaking the theme of this can’t really be done, with, “You gonna help out with this party? You got a pair of balls in those snug leathers of yours, or are you just a handsome face and all talk.”

“Wish I could, but I’ve got a grid death warrant on my head put there by every faction involved. You’d have several squads after you the moment my signature lit up the darkening.”

Alison appeared at the doorway and called to them. “Please come back. We’ve got something going on in here. Vela’s feeling a call to the Illinois Seers Palace?”

Samuel moved fast and found Vela trembling as she stood near the glass coffee table. “What’s going on?”

“Another call.”

As soon as the rest of the party entered the room, however, she addressed Endelle. “Something’s going on and it’s big and it involves the Seers Palace, the one that Greaves built.”

“We shut it down.”

“Are you sure?”

Endelle took on her best scorpion look, ready, apparently, to take Vela apart for questioning her, but one of Thorne’s assistants arrived and spoke in a low voice to him.

“All right,” he murmured. He stood very still for a moment, his gaze stricken. Finally, he said, “I have to check on something. I’ll be right back.”

“Thorne, what the hell is it?”

“Let me find out what’s going on.”  He disappeared into the hall beyond.

The entire room fell silent, tense, waiting.

No one spoke.

* * * * * * * * *

Vela gripped Samuel’s arm. This can’t be good.

No.

He sent nothing more, just a flat ‘no’ that echoed through her mind.

She kept her gaze fixed on the doorway, as did everyone else, but grew even more anxious when Thorne’s footsteps sounded in the rotunda beyond.

She pulled the top corners of her sweater together with her free hand.

Thorne arrived on the threshold, his lips in a tight, grim line.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Endelle asked.

Thorne just stared at her.

“Did one of Greaves’s former generals attack?” Endelle’s chest rose and fell, the seashells clattering softly.

“All three of them. Looks like it was a coordinated, planned assault.”

“How many Militia Warriors did we lose?”

“Over two thousand.”

“Aw, Jesus.” She shaded her face with her hand.

Vela gasped.

Samuel murmured a low, “Oh, God, no."

Leto shook his head, but glanced at Thorne. “And we knew nothing about it? How is this possible?”

“I just spoke with Marguerite. Her crew, who works the Future Streams twenty-four-seven, saw nothing. Not a hint, a whisper, nothing.”

“Jesus. What the fuck does this mean?”

“Marguerite took a few seconds to dive in to take a look at the Illinois Two Seers Palace and she couldn’t get a reading.”

“What the hell?” Endelle’s voice carried a bit of resonance and that made Fiona groan. Fiona really couldn’t handle resonance.

Vela knew that the Illinois Seers Palace had been one of Greaves’s primary tools against Madame Endelle. Owen Stannett had harnessed Seers together and provided unparalleled information until he lost himself in the pleasure of the experience and Greaves got rid of him.

Her instincts began to thrum heavily as she thought about the Palace. The call returned, a kind of strong pull of her entire body into the darkening.

“Let me take a look,” she said, drawing all eyes to her.

“Go,” Endelle said.

She heard Samuel setting up a protest, but she knew this would be quick and easy, very different from a jaunt to Third.

She flowed straight back into the grid and began hurtling through the tunnels but not in the direction of Third Earth.

Suddenly, she reached her destination and knew she was deep inside the Illinois Seers Palace.

She remained very still, something her instincts told her would buy her some time.

She looked around. The chamber was made of black marble tile, with a viewing platform that looked down into a sort of pit. Seven chaise-longues were set in a row and reclining in the middle was a man she’d never seen before, but he had three braids on either side of his head looped into a clasp with the rest of his long hair. He had a prominent nose and a carefully trimmed black goatee. She knew this was the man who’d hurt Samuel: Sharav.

Oh, God.

She didn’t want to be here. If he was, who Merl said he was, then one of Chustaffus’s henchmen had taken over the Illinois Seer’s Palace.

He held a cell in his hand and every once in a while spoke into the cell. Vela knew he relayed information, but to whom?

Strapped to the chaise-longues were six women, of varying ethnicities, each wearing a white linen robe, and each grimacing as if in pain, eyes closed, sunk in a trance.

Her instincts pushed her forward until she pressed her mind against Sharav’s and slid in, just as she had with Endelle earlier. The image stunned her, of herself naked, in the darkening, lying on a stone floor.

The image meant something, but what?

Sharav opened his eyes, so she quickly pulled out. He looked in her direction, but didn’t make eye contact which meant he still couldn’t see her. He rubbed his goatee. All the women relaxed and many whimpered in relief.

“Who’s there? Great. More darkening shit. I don’t need this.”

He reached out his hand and folded a second strange looking cell-phone into it. The words he spoke chilled her to the bone. “I need a wrecker here. Now.”

Vela didn’t need a further hint. She turned and headed back the way she’d come, but shortly after she started moving, a blast sounded not far from her.

She returned to Endelle’s sitting room, sweating and trembling. She sealed the doorway again, her arms high and spread out, her power flowed, but she knew she didn’t have enough juice to complete the job.

“Merl,” she called out. “Need your help here.”

But Merl was already there, hands planted on the wall and she felt the entry point seal up.

She stepped back, staring at the darkening wall, watching it fade. In the great distance, she heard another blast but the wreckers were too late.

When she turned, Samuel took her by the arms. “Where the hell did you go? Vela, don’t take off like that again. At least take me with, for Christ’s sake. Fuck, you’re shaking.” He drew her into his arms.

She held onto him breathing hard. He slid his hand beneath the mass of her hair to the back of her neck and rubbed, which helped, but she struggled to process what she’d seen, how close the wreckers had gotten to her. Beyond that, what about the vision of herself lying naked, in the darkening, on a stone floor?

She couldn’t seem to calm the hell down.

Endelle turned to Alison. “Can you help us here?”

Alison moved in and placed her hand on Vela’s head. The most wonderful warmth and compassion flowed and she finally took a deep breath. In slow stages, Vela began to calm down until she pulled away from Samuel.

An odd vibration passed through her, a kind of knowing, as she shifted in Alison’s direction. Suddenly, she felt Alison, all that the woman experienced on a deep level as she applied her healing gift. She felt Alison’s fatigue, her level of anxiety for her young daughter’s safety, that she worried about her breh, Kerrick, all that time.

On instinct, Vela met Alison’s gaze and as though flipping an internal switch, she turned the same compassion back on Alison, as though she reflected the woman’s power. Healing warmth reversed, flowing out of Vela’s mind and heart into the woman whose hand still rested on Vela’s head.

Alison drew back, her brows lifted in surprise. She’d broken the contact and now stared at her hand. “What is that? What just happened?”

But the power still flowed, so she extended her palm toward Alison. “May I?”

Alison stared at Vela’s hand for a long moment, then finally nodded.

Vela placed her hand on Alison’s forehead and as more healing flowed, the powerful ascender breathed a deep sigh of relief and murmured, “Heaven.”

Vela kept up the process, wondering how this was even possible, how she could actually give back what Alison had given.

When the sensation dimmed, Vela drew her hand back.

“What the hell is going on?” Endelle barked. “We have a warrior to save. What did you just do to Alison?”

Vela stared at her own hand. “I’m not sure. I felt she was distressed and offered the same comfort she had just given me.”

“That was amazing.” Alison shook her head, her lips parted, brows raised. “And I actually feel at ease for the first time in a long time.”

“And that’s what you just gave me. So, thank you.”

Alison smiled, her blue, gold-rimmed eyes full of light. “I’m just amazed.”

“Okay, knock it off with all this touchy-feely shit.” Endelle’s voice rang through the room. “Vela, what the fuck happened when you went into the darkening just now? And by-the-way, you sent your man into a shouting fit. I’ve never heard so much profanity bounce around a room before, unless I’d launched it.”

Vela glanced between Endelle and Alison then back. She knew something significant had just happened, more than just giving comfort to Alison, but the scorpion queen demanded answers now.

Fully restored, Vela set her attention on Endelle. “The darkening called me to the Seers Palace. A Third ascender has taken Owen Stannett’s place. I believe he’s the one that held Samuel prisoner all that time, the one called Sharav.”

She gave a description of him and Samuel nodded. “That’s probably him.”

Endelle turned to Merl. “Does that sound right?”

He nodded, his brows drawn together.

“Fuck.” Endelle released a heavy sigh and after a moment addressed Thorne. “I think we have our answer about what happened, and how the three generals knew where and when to attack.”

“Seer information.” Thorne, making use of his deep, gravelly voice, released his own stream of profanity. “I should get over there. I’ll take a division if I have to and tear that goddamn place down stone-by-fucking-stone.”

“I think that’s a plan,” Endelle said. “But right now, let’s get Duncan out. If this Third asshole also orchestrated Duncan’s capture, then he might decide to speed up the execution.”

Thorne nodded briskly several times, turning toward Samuel.  “Since you’ve already been inside the grid, I want you to take lead.”

All eyes shifted to Samuel. “The only thing we’re not sure about is how to distract the wreckers so we can attack and get their weapons. We should figure out a way to move in from a flank position, maybe lure a squad of wreckers to us. But how do we trick them?”

“I know what to do,” Vela interjected.  “When I was in the darkening, I slipped into Sharav’s head and saw exactly how this would go down, at least the first part of it. Trust me.”

“What did you see?” Samuel scowled.

Vela switched to telepathy and told him what she’d seen in the vision, of herself, naked on the floor.

But Samuel took a step back. “No,” he shouted. “Hell the fuck no.”

Vela wasn’t certain what to do or how to convince him this was best, but Endelle laughed and moved in to clap Samuel on the shoulder. “Settle down, warrior. Vela can do this thing.”

“You don’t even know what she suggested.”

Endelle met Vela’s gaze. “Sure I do. I dove straight into her mind and saw what you just saw. Nice ass, by the way. You work out much?”

“Stay on point,” Thorne said.

Endelle rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She addressed Samuel. “Vela’s right. The plan will work like a charm. Three men with weapons, coming across a vision like that? So, get over yourself, or the breh-hedden, or whichever monster has control of you right now.”

“What’s going on?” Leto called out, his deep beast-voice booming through the room. “Can you let us in on this?”

“Vela’s going to play ‘butt-naked decoy’. But you boys just be respectful, which I know you will be.”

Thorne and Leto exchanged a glance, then turned a boatload of compassion on Samuel.

“We know what you’re going through,” Thorne said. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our distance.”

Samuel paled as he said, “Fine. I guess there’s only one more question to ask and answer: Vela, can you move all of us through the darkening at once? This will be a big group.”

Vela glanced at Fiona and Alison, Leto and Thorne. “Hell, yeah, I can. And Thorne, you’ll want to be in flight battle gear. And don’t worry, none of you need to be physically connected or anything, not for this trip.”

In a blur, Thorne changed.

Samuel took her hand and squeezed. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Never more sure in my life.”

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel released his dark power, not surprised that all eyes shifted in his direction as his smoky grayle mist rose around him and his energy flowed, strengthening all that he was as a man and a warrior.

He knew the latent streams of power were still there, but for now, he was good.

He turned to Vela, still holding her hand. The soft answering smile eased him as he dipped his chin. “Take us into the darkening.”

“Let’s go.”

She might have blinked, he wasn’t sure, but the next moment, as a group, they sped without walking or running, just a swift form of levitation up one darkening grid tunnel after the next. Vela’s power held them together as a group, on and on, following some kind of internal compass that she possessed.

“We’re close to contact,” Vela called out. “As soon as the wreckers stop, fold behind them and do what you do best.”

Samuel held his sword in his free hand. Vela slowed their joint movement, then brought the group to a halt. In the near distance an explosion sounded.

She turned to Samuel and said, “Hang tough on this one, on what I have to do next.”

He tightened down his caveman instincts and nodded.

To the other men, she said, “You might want to look away. I’ll signal Samuel, then take care of business. Right now, get down, as low as you can.” Leto and Thorne nodded. “Alison, Fiona, you’ll be safest pressed against the grid wall.”

Two more nods.

She waved her hand and lost her clothes. Samuel watched her speed twenty feet away and stretch out on her side, on the stone floor that matched Duncan’s cell.

He could hardly recognize the feeling that ripped through him, but again fear and pride split him; a terrible fear that his woman lay, completely vulnerable, this far away from him, and pride that she’d reached beyond her previous convictions, setting them aside, to save another ascender’s life.

A second explosion, closer this time.

Alison and Fiona stood right next to the grid wall. He thought about Duncan and as his grayle power flowed, he extended his senses. Duncan was nearby.

Vela, how we doin’? he sent.

Duncan’s about thirty yards from here.

I can sense him now. Samuel’s biceps flexed.

They’re almost here. Ten, nine, eight…

Samuel continued the count so that the other warriors could hear. “Seven, six, five, four…” Leto and Thorne both leaned forward. “Three, two…”

A grid wall exploded not five feet from Vela, but she didn’t budge, not even a hair’s breadth. Wall debris, like black ash from a fire, blanketed the area and three wreckers broke through, three massive Third Earth Warriors, in kilted flight battle gear, shotguns over shoulders. Big motherfuckers.

“What the hell is this?” The leader stared down at Vela. Like the description of Sharav, he wore three braids on either side of his face, clipped back in low hanging loops. All the men had long hair, Warrior of the Blood long.

“Something stinks here.” The wrecker on the left backed away from Vela. “I say we waste her and get the hell out of this tunnel.”

Samuel gave the signal, a forward slice of his arm in Vela’s direction.

And just as the wreckers lifted their heads to look down the tunnel, Samuel folded. He reappeared, at the same time as Thorne and Leto, behind the men.

Samuel sliced across his adversary’s forearm, striking almost to the bone so that the wrecker’s shotgun fell to the floor. But a second later, the bastard turned to face him, a sword in his other hand, as though he’d barely felt the wound. He topped Samuel by at least two inches, and his skills matched the Warriors of the Blood.

Samuel bumped up his grayle power, adding new streams of the dark mist, which brought his opponent’s eyebrows up a couple of notches.

“Surprise.”

Game on and never had a sword felt so good in his hand, or his new power so magnificent as in this moment when he battled the bastard who had said, ‘Let’s waste her.’

Both Leto and Thorne had taken on a wrecker and a sword-fight ensued so that the sound of metal against metal echoed up and down the tunnel. Because the element of surprise had worn off, it was just vampire-against-vampire.

Chapter Seven

The moment the explosion had sounded, Vela had leaped to her feet, waved a hand and got dressed. She hurried back to join Alison and Fiona. She watched in awe as Fiona allowed Alison to access her body, to essentially take her over so that Fiona’s obsidian flame power could amplify Alison’s ability to reconfigure weapon identification. In the process, Alison’s body grew lax against the darkening grid wall, present-but-not-present.

Fiona gave herself a shake. When she moved, she even brushed her hair away from her face like Alison would have done.

As the battle raged, Fiona turned in the direction of the three weapons that had slid toward them on the floor.

Vela caught her hand, holding her back. “Are you sure?”

She turned to Vela and touched her forehead. “Don’t worry. I can do this.” Alison again, speaking from Fiona’s lips and staring at Vela from Fiona’s silvery-blue eyes. “I’m going to start working these weapons now. And I can feel it in every cell of my body that I can do this.”

Fiona, now Alison, moved swiftly in the direction of the battle, heading toward the nearest weapon.

Vela held her breath as Fiona stretched out her hand. The weapon flew toward her.

“Please work, please work, please work,” Vela murmured.

Beyond, the men battled.

The weapon reached Fiona’s hand and even at this distance, Vela felt an electric current pass up and down the tunnel. Fiona held up the weapon. “One down,” she called out.

Vela let go of a huge sigh of relief.

At almost the same moment, one of the wreckers fell to the stone floor and Thorne took his head.

Vela wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She’d never seen a battle close up before, not like this. The one she’d witnessed at the Superstitions had still been at a greater distance and within the safety of the darkening.

Thorne turned in Leto’s direction, and in a blinding move, folded, reappeared behind the second wrecker and shoved a dagger into his lower back. As the Third Warrior arched at the sudden unexpected pain, Leto drove his sword through his chest. When he withdrew the blade, the wrecker also toppled to the floor.

Leto removed his head.

Thorne turned, extended his hand in Fiona’s direction. She didn’t hesitate but tossed the reconfigured shotgun to him.

She repeated the process twice more, rendering each weapon harmless. Leto ran toward her and took one of the shotguns from her. He then moved back to Alison’s uninhabited body and stood guard.

All the while, Leto battled the wrecker, who had also released his grayle power, so that two plumes of mist, one dark and smoky, the other gray and almost green-tinged, flowed in strange whirls above the warriors, moving in a strange counter-dance.

Thorne stood off to the side, shotgun in hand, looking for an opportunity, his eyes intent on the battle.

Vela watched mesmerized as both warriors battled in an incomprehensible blur of levitation and folding.

Fiona returned to stand close to Alison and, like watching a sliding door part swiftly, the women disconnected and became themselves. Both remained silent as the final battle progressed.

Vela’s heart swelled at the sight of Samuel keeping pace with the Third Warrior.

“Look at him move,” Alison whispered. “My God.”

“I know.” Fiona breathed raggedly, her arms now crossed over her chest.

Then she felt it, another vibration through the grid. “More wreckers.”

“Shit,” Leto muttered. “At least we have the weapons.”

A distant explosion sounded.

They had to get this job done and get out of there. They were running out of time.

She had to do something. She focused on Samuel, and without giving it too much thought, she entered Samuel’s mind which whirred with movement, just as he moved. She relaxed and sent him her power, a soft stream of energy.

What followed was a kind of explosive response in Samuel as he whirled in the air, just as the wrecker whirled, but did a lateral whipping movement, took his opponent out at the knees.

Thorne moved in, and took his head.

The battle was over.

Vela called out. “We’ve got to get to get Duncan. Now!”

The men started running in her direction. She gathered her darkening ability, swept up the group and carried them swiftly, not backward, but onward, straight to Duncan’s cell. The darkening allowed her to see inside, where two workers were cutting an unconscious warrior down.

“Men, use those damn weapons and let’s get Duncan now. Here.” She patted the wall. Another distant explosion sounded. “We’ve got about twenty seconds.”

Samuel approached the wall, lifted his weapon and fired, which sent him backward on his ass, but the wall disintegrated. Thorne and Leto launched inside, pushed the slaves away, grabbed Duncan then hauled him back into the darkening. He was still bound by ropes and bled from one end of his body to the next.

Just as an explosion took out the wall opposite, Vela sped the group down tunnel after tunnel, faster and faster. She could feel Duncan’s life force ebb. The warrior was almost gone. Forget the execution, he’d been beaten and sliced to the absolute rim of death.

She heard explosions following her, but she also knew what she could do.

The next moment, she brought her team through their initial entry point and planted her hands on the wall to create the seal. Damn, shotguns exploded beyond the wall. She felt a terrible vibration. “I can’t hold it,” she called out.

Merl stepped in and planted his hands on the wall. His Third Earth mist rose and power flooded the room like nothing she’d ever known. Together, they sealed up the wall.

Then silence.

“Are we safe?” Endelle asked. “Jesus H. Christ. Are we safe?”

Vela turned to her. “Yes.” She eased away from the wall.

Endelle looked at Duncan’s unconscious form and called out sharply. “Jeannie.”

“Yes, Madame Endelle.”

“Get Horace over here to the palace. No, faster than that. I want him at my position.”

“Done.”

Five seconds later, Horace appeared next to Endelle. He dropped beside Duncan, but addressed Fiona. “I’m going to need you.”

The woman didn’t skip a beat. Vela watched as she repeated her drawing-in process, so that Horace’s power took her over and she went to work on Duncan. The moment Fiona put her hand on Duncan’s chest, he jerked once, then drew breath.

Tears sprang to Vela’s eyes.

They’d caught him just in time.

Duncan had almost died.

Samuel slid an arm around her waist. He was sweaty from battle, and the leather harness had stiff edges, but it was the best feel in the world as he drew her against him.

You did good, his words a thrill through her mind.

She’d never been in a battle before and for a first one, yes she’d done good. Her heart swelled as she wiped away tears that kept falling.

Duncan began to heal, faster than anything she’d seen before, but after a minute, Fiona sat back and separated from Horace.

She looked exhausted.

“I’ve got it now,” Horace said. “Go home and get some rest.” He smiled tenderly at her.

Fiona nodded. The couple hadn’t made a formal announcement, but rumor had it she was pregnant. She turned to Madame Endelle. “Permission to leave?”

“Granted. Jeannie, send Fiona home straight from here.”

“Of course, Madame Endelle.”

Fiona simply vanished.

Alison crossed to Vela. “You did an amazing thing tonight and showed so much courage. Well done.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I could stay, but I have a flying toddler at home who will be up at the crack of dawn.”

Endelle once more barked at Jeannie and Alison disappeared.

Both Leto and Thorne stood on either side of Duncan, who was still unconscious. Horace, his hands moving from wound to wound and performing his healing magic, glanced up at Thorne. “This will take some time and he should have rest. I’d like to move him to the hospital but not by fold. Some of these cuts are deep and grazed his organs. He would have died if you hadn’t gotten to him.”

Vela’s throat tightened and Samuel rubbed his hand up and down her side and waist. We got him.

We did.

He saved me, Samuel added.

And now you returned the favor.

We saved him, all of us and my part was the damned least I could do.

By the time Horace had a still unconscious Duncan packed up in an ambulance for the drive to the hospital, Leto had returned to the Gateway to Third Earth.

Thorne took all three sawed off shotguns, intending to have his firearms expert work with them to see what shells were used and how the wreckers added their power to enhance the shot. Scowling, he muttered something about practicing with them at the Illinois Seers Palace, as he headed back in the direction of the Command Center.

Vela addressed Merl. “What would have happened if you hadn’t been here to finish seal up the Gateway?”

“Nothing good.”

“Sweet fucking Christ,” Endelle muttered.

“Is there anything I can do to strengthen my own power to seal up the breach?”

“I think so. You’re pretty amazing.”

Vela glanced at him, stunned that not a single flirtatious lilt attached to his words,  Even Samuel remained settled beside her.

She smiled. “Thank you for that.”

“Well, that settles something for me,” Endelle said. “For the time being, the two of you stay with Merl. And stay in contact.” She turned to Merl. “I’ll need you to work with Vela to get this skill up to par because I’m guessing we haven’t seen the last of the grid wreckers.”

“Probably not.”

“So, you okay with this, Third ascender?”

“Hell, yeah. Least I can do for the Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth.” His nostrils flared. “You know, I don’t have to go home right away.”

Endelle chortled. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. And I’m tempted because everything about you says you’ve got the right equipment and know how to use it.”

“Damn straight about that.”

Vela stepped a little closer to Samuel. She could almost see the sparks flying from one ascender to the other.

The heat in this room, Samuel sent in what felt like the quietest telepathic voice he could manage, could melt a glacier.

I know what you mean.

But I thought Endelle had hooked up with Braulio? Samuel scowled like he somehow disapproved.

Vela squeezed his hand. That’s just it. He hasn’t been around for the last month and she has no way to contact him.

Gotta be a bitch.

Exactly.

Well, Braulio had better get his ass back here because that’s one determined vampire.

No kidding.

Finally, after a long half minute of staring at Merl, and maybe debating the offer, Endelle said, “Thanks, but I’m sort of in a relationship.”

For a reason she couldn’t explain, Vela released a sigh of relief.

But Merl actually moved until just a spare few inches separated him from Endelle. “Well, you let me know if your boyfriend stops hiding out in another dimension. I’d love to spend some time taking care of you.”

Vela broke a sweat and it wasn’t helping that Samuel now rubbed his thumb in circles over the palm of her hand. She’d never quite understood why the gesture was so damn sexual but it was working. That, and his smoky, chocolate scent had started flowing in her direction.

Those flowers of yours are getting to me.

I want to be alone with you.

He released a soft growl.

Merl glanced at Samuel. “I’m going to stay here and check out Thorne’s operation, maybe see if I can help. Why don’t you two head back to my house. And just so you know, after I leave here, I’ll be heading out to a couple of clubs and I won’t be back until dawn.”

Vela almost said something in response, but Samuel called out, “Sounds like a plan.” By then he had hold of her hand and urged her in the direction of the doorway. She took to the idea right away and started walking faster.

His smile expanded by the time they reached the landing platform, a very male, satisfied response to what he knew would soon happen between them.

By then, Vela wore her own smile, so she could hardly complain.

* * * * * * * * *

“I need a shower,” Samuel said, almost trembling with his need to get Vela underneath him.

“Here’s an idea. How about I join you?”

He groaned then hauled her into his arms. A weapons harness, stiff by nature, wasn’t the most comfortable piece of clothing to press up against a woman, but Vela didn’t seem to care.

He folded it off anyway, even while he held her in his arms. Vela landed against his chest and that’s when things got a little crazy as she slung her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. With his tongue deep in her mouth, he tried to walk her backwards and finally ended up just folding her to the bathroom.

She let go of him, dropping her feet to the floor, but her eyes had a dazed look and when she waved a hand to get rid of her clothes, her jeans ended up around her ankles. She would have toppled over, but he caught her.

“Allow me.” He dropped to his knees, lifted a bare foot, slid the pants off the old-fashioned way, then the other.

He kissed the inside of her right ankle and being the smart woman that she was, she shifted her feet farther apart to increase the room he had to work as he began kissing his way up her leg.

Soft moans flowed down on his head, then little whimpers.  He added bites and sucks, one after the other, moving ever upward. He was just about to get busy when Vela said, “Samuel, I really like what you’re doing, but I’ve got this funny feeling about something.”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment. He so didn’t want her called back into the darkening, not right now.

He looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

She stepped away from him. “What do you think is on the other side of that door? I mean, the guest room has a closet, and the toilet’s on the opposite side of this room. So…” She let the word hang.

He lifted his head and saw that an archway, centered in the wall well beyond the massive shower, led to a door. “It can’t be Merl’s bedroom.”

Vela met his gaze. “Knowing Merl, I think I know what it is and that’s exactly where I want to be right now.”

She left him kneeling, wondering if he’d lost his touch, then he got it, which of course launched him to his feet. By the time she shoved the door open, he fit right up against her back, one hand on her hip, as he crossed the threshold with her.

“Oh, my God,” she said, “this is the most decadent room I’ve ever seen.”

He couldn’t have agreed more. The lights had come on the moment Vela opened the door, mood-lighting, with a rim of pot-lights glowing in a soft teal all round the perimeter. A dark sensuality permeated what was a very private room. Directly across from the door, a screen dominated the entire wall, featuring the portrait of a couple from the waist up, naked, and in a tight embrace, the man kissing her neck. He glanced to his right and saw a video camera and some controls. So the screen could also be used to project images, maybe to play a movie.

His gaze drifted to the center of the room. One large overhead pot light lit up an apparatus he’d always wanted to try out, a tall, leather, bench-like mount, over which the woman would recline face down.  And if Vela was game, he’d love to do this with her because the room served one purpose: to allow for wing-mount while making love.

His erection punched at his kilt, which reminded him that he’d only partially undressed.

She turned to him, her eyes dilated, her scent perfuming the air. “The mount has leather straps at the top. I could really hold on, keep my balance. Samuel, I want to do this. Are you game?”

He shoved the door shut with his foot and while kissing her again, and almost tripping over her as he moved her in the direction of the mount, he sent, More than game. We’ll both be able to let our wings fly.

I know, I know. Now lose the rest of your clothes, warrior.

He drew back from her and laughed. He waved a hand and got rid of his kilt, briefs, battle sandals and shin guards. He meant to kiss her again, but she planted her hands on his pecs, fondling him with just her thumbs. “Hey, you were magnificent in the darkening. I mean it. The way you fought, your speed, that you could fold like that and levitate and all the while your mist flowed around you in the most elegant streamers. I was mesmerized.”

Her words heated his mind and electrified his body, making his muscles pop in some kind of remembered action of the battle itself. “I kept thinking about you, Vela, about finishing the fight so that I could get back to you. I wanted you safe.”

Her hands slid down his chest and around his back. “I am safe, so thank you for that, for getting us through.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t the only one there.”

“I know. But you’re here and I’m thanking you.”

He kissed her, more intensely this time, because he knew she admired him, thought well of him, and had approved his part in Duncan’s rescue. As he slid his tongue into her mouth, she suckled, which forced a groan from his throat.

Her hands moved slowly from wing-lock to wing-lock, her fingers kneading the length of each lock then teasing the apertures. He wept for her so that as she moved, the lubricant that allowed for wing-release spread over his back.

By now, he arched over her, pushing his cock against her, savoring that her hips pushed back. Let’s try out that mount, he sent.

But as he released her, she said, “I want you to lie down first, on your stomach. I need to suck down some of those juices.”

Okay, he almost came because her choice of words were as erotic as what she wanted to do to him. He didn’t argue with her either but stretched himself out on the mount.

“Spread your legs a little more.”

He smiled and a thrill shot down his testicles. Her hands were on him first, but not touching his wing-locks. Instead, she fondled him low. “You have a beautiful ass,” she said. Then she was stroking his buttocks, kissing and licking. When she dipped low and licked and plucked at his perineum then his balls, he emitted a sound that fell somewhere between an anguished groan and a grunt.

“You’d better stop,” he called out. “Or I won’t last.”

She chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He felt her move in close to him from behind, lean over and that’s when more of the magic happened as she got busy with his wing-locks. She started at the upper right and he closed his eyes and savored. She sucked at the tip, moaning, her hips pumping into him in the nicest way.

He decided then and there that he needed to add onto his house. He had to have a room like this, one where he could be with Vela as often as he liked, maybe everyday for a good long stretch.

As she sucked on his wing-locks, the thought of having her with him always worked on his mind and on his heart. What was happening to him? What was the breh-hedden doing to him?

He seemed to be falling for her, straight off a cliff, tumbling over and over. But that made no sense in his solitary life, the one he lived, a wolf’s life, functioning with his Militia Warrior pack, but moving at the edges of society, never fully engaged.

Whatever this was, he’d reached a point where he wanted to be inside her, to bury himself, to feel that connection to her.

I need you, he sent. He lifted up and she drew back at the same time. He turned toward her and kissed her again, his erection pressing against her, his hips angling, seeking.

Let me get prone, Samuel. God, I need you inside me, too. Now. My wing-locks are screaming because they know I’m going to release.

Mine, too.

He let her go and she whirled to lie face down. “Oh, this is heaven because your scent is all over the leather.” She took a deep breath and groaned. “Incredible.” She took hold of the straps.

He split the mass of her blond hair, pushing it away from her back to hang down on either side of her. He loved the sight of her beautiful back, glistening from her wing-locks doing what they do, swelling, moistening, getting ready to mount. Even looking at the swollen ridges worked his cock.

She spread her legs and he had to have a good look at her beautiful bareness, her swollen lips and folds, that she also glistened below.

He dropped to his knees, needing to have a taste and the moment his tongue connected she cried out. He gripped her hips, wanting her to come just once before he pierced her.

He drove his tongue hard, her sweet floral flavor another tantalizing sensation that kept him hard and ready. Come for me, Vela, just once before we mount.

Somehow his voice in her head must have done the trick because she cried out, her hips pumping against the mount, writhing as he rode her orgasm to the end.

When she lay slack, he rose up and stroked her buttocks, just as she’d touched and fondled him. He went upward, massaging her waist. But when he reached her wing-locks, he sucked on the lowest one, which brought a new moan out of her mouth.

You ready for a wing-release? he asked.

Yes.
I’m so ready. And I want you, Samuel, all of you, as deep as you can get.

He lifted up and using his hand, guided his cock into her waiting body, pressing slowly to get positioned.

When he was in, he began to thrust, watching as she used the straps, one in each hand, to counter his moves, which created the best friction.

She breathed roughly against the mount. “I won’t last long.”

“Me, neither.”

He’d barely been able to get the words out. Being inside her, with her scent rich in his nostrils, her wetness easing every stroke, all of it worked his wing-locks. They were swollen now and pleasure flowed in waves over his body and plucked at his balls.

She panted as he gripped her hips to gain the balance he needed. He pumped faster and he felt her tighten around his cock.

“I’m going to come.” Her body arched and he watched as her wings began to fly from the locks. She clenched around him hard and screamed her pleasure.

The sounds she made, coupled with the sight of her wing-release, brought his release. He roared as the sensations combined to flood his body with pleasure. His cock jerked with each pump of fluid, the feel of his wings streaking through and pleasuring each of his locks so that he writhed as he drove into her. The flesh of her hips in his hands drove him to an ecstasy that kept delivering, jolts of sensation that flowed upward through his abdomen and forced guttural shouts from his throat.

On the climax moved, like nothing he’d known before, his wings flapping in strong downward sweeps even as Vela’s moved, even as she kept crying out. Her hands pulled hard on the straps, keeping them both anchored.

Pleasure on pleasure.

Cresting more than once.

Finally, the last wave rose and fell to a gentle easing down. He breathed hard, Vela as well, her arms now hanging loosely down the sides of the leather mount, her thick blond hair draped on either side of her head.

“I want one of these,” she said, chuckling.

He smiled and placed his hand on the center of her back, touching her between her wings. “Your wings are extraordinary. And gray, with a darker gray banding at the tips. They’re beautiful.”

“Like your eyes, Samuel,” she said softly. “Like your eyes.”

She craned her neck to look back at him. “And your wings are an incredible shade of blue.” She lowered her head, looking peaceful and relaxed. “Do you think that means something, that our wings reflect each other’s eye color?”

“I don’t know.” Her wings could have been polka-dotted, in bright yellow and purple, and he wouldn’t have cared. “I’m content more than I can say being connected to you like this.”

“I know what you mean.” She flapped her wings gently then released a deep sigh. “I do know what I want right now.”

“What?”

“To curl up beside you in bed and sleep for about a decade.”

He smiled. Nothing could have sounded better. “But I’d still like that shower.”

* * * * * * * * *

After spending the rest of the night and a good part of the day asleep, Vela awoke cradled in Samuel’s arms, facing him. She kept sighing, her contentment boundless. Earlier, around dawn, Samuel had awakened her gently then made love to her, bringing her to another roaring climax, which she was pretty sure Merl must have heard since both she and Samuel had cried out repeatedly.

If Merl had even come home last night.

Merl was one of those big unknowns, living almost hedonistically as a refugee from what sounded like a messed up dimension. But Merl wasn’t her problem right now, and hopefully never would be. He had his own path just as she had hers.

She lay beside Samuel, her head on his shoulder. She kept fondling the incredible curves of his pecs, the dip below his sternum, the rolling landscape of his abs. “I still want to work as a counselor, no matter what this new power means.”

To her surprise, Samuel chuckled. “Why? It seems to me you have a whole new path laid out for you.”

She hadn’t expected to hear something like that from him. She leaned back and met his gaze. “But, why wouldn’t I still want to counsel those unfortunate women? I’ve been studying psychology for years and I’ve had a lot of counseling myself. I think I could do some good.”

“Doing good isn’t the point. You’re not built for it.”

She didn’t like the direction of this exchange, but she pressed on. “I think you’re wrong and given what happened at the palace, when I was able to give Alison some peace, this new power I’m experiencing might just take my counseling to a new level. In which case, I could be of even more use.”

He frowned slightly. “Remind me again what you did?”

“I placed my hand on her forehead. I comforted Alison. The Alison Wells. I felt her empathic power flow through me and into her, easing her. And that’s one reason I think you’re wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to pick a fight this morning. It’s just that I’ve been inside your mind and I saw how much you loved traveling and living a more adventurous life. That’s all. I think you might want to open yourself up to, I don’t know, a calling that might have more meaning and purpose for you personally.”

“Like what? Like serving as a Militia Warrior?”

“I didn’t say that. In fact, I don’t think you’re a warrior. But this gift has to mean something, has to mean more than you think it does. Have you considered the possibility that the attack in 1922 affected you in a way that shut down your adventurous spirit, or did you already deal with that in counseling?”

Vela couldn’t quite meet his gaze because her conscience prickled her. During her sessions, she’d repeatedly glossed over the subject, afraid to plumb the depths of what had happened to her the night Jeff and his squad rescued her. “You may be right,” she said quietly. She then glanced at him and frowned. “But what of you, Samuel?”

He drew his arm from around her and crossed his arms to rest on top of his head. “What about me? I think I’m doing all right.”

With that one move, she knew she had a choice to make. If she pressed on, the argument would escalate. But his strident opinions of how she should best live her life rankled. And hey, turnabout was fair play, so she said, “I think you should become a Warrior of the Blood.”

“What?” he all but shouted, drawing his brow into a neat line of ridges. “You think I should become a What-Bee? Based on what?”

“On seeing you battle beside Thorne, you know, the Supreme High Commander of the Allied Forces, and Warrior Leto in his beast-state? You’re their equal. Hell, you might even exceed them, Samuel. What do you think of that?”

“My being equal in power has nothing to do with it. I’m a Militia Warrior. Even Gideon, after the breh-hedden took him down and his powers increased, didn’t join up. I belong to the Thunder God Warriors.”

“But Gideon has a different set of responsibilities. He’s Colonel Seriffe’s second-in-command. And you’re just a fighter.”

“I’m a back-up Section Leader. I have responsibilities.” But his frown deepened.

“Oh, I know what it is. I get it.”

He leaned up on his elbow, turning slightly to face her, anger flashing in his eyes. “What do you get?”

“I may not have dived into your mind, but I understand something about you. The Warriors of the Blood are a tight group, really tight, connected, and that’s not something you do. Ever.” She even punched her forefinger into his chest for emphasis.

He narrowed his gaze, a smile suddenly playing at his lips. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve connected pretty well with you.”

Since he shed his bitter chocolate scent, and her body responded, she leaned in and kissed him. Samuel had full, sensual lips and he knew how to work his tongue. For a few seconds, she even considered drawing him back down on top of her and encouraging him to take her again.

But she had a point she wanted to make, so she responded, “Then let me mind-dive with you.”

He snorted. “You want me to prove that I can connect by allowing you inside my head? No. And I’ve already told you why.”

“You mean those elusive streams of energy that haven’t yet made an appearance?”

“Are you saying you don’t believe I have them?”

A knock on the door had Samuel moving quickly, dragging the comforter up to her chin, making sure she was covered. “What is it, Merl?”

Their host opened the door slightly and called out, “Endelle wants to make sure we get some practice in on sealing up the grid wall. Given all that happened last night, we should get going on that.”

“Fine. Give us twenty.”

“Good deal.”

When Merl pulled the door shut, Samuel rolled out of bed. “I call the shower.”

“I’m not done discussing this.”

He just waved to her as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

* * * * * * * * *

Showered, with a fresh change of clothes brought over from his Scottsdale Two home, Samuel sat next to Vela at the kitchen island, fork and knife in hand.

Merl, standing opposite, near the sink, kept going on and on about Thorne’s recent exploits, something he and Vela had missed since they’d been asleep through the morning.

Vela nodded to Merl. “So Thorne really tore the Illinois Two Seers Palace apart?”

“Yep. Found it abandoned, except for the Seers. He had several Militia Warriors practicing with the wrecker shotguns, which work even better outside the darkening. I hear it’ll be nothing but rubble soon.”

“Well thank the Creator for that. And what about the Seers?”

“Best part of the whole damn story. He sent fifty-five drugged out women to Fiona’s rehab center.”

“Fifty-five? That man is incredible.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Samuel groaned and snorted at the same time. He admired Thorne. Who the hell didn’t? But what he fucking resented was Merl using the news of Thorne’s exploits to impress his woman.

He focused on the steak and eggs that Vela had prepared for them, and yes, the woman could cook. She’d brought food over from her house again and even made some kind of salsa with chunks of fruit in it, mango maybe.

Since it was already after five and heading toward sundown, Samuel wished he had a beer. Of course that wasn’t the best way to start a night when he had a new skill-set to learn, if he could even help with the sealing of grid walls.

He glanced at Vela, thinking about what she’d said earlier, about wanting to mind-dive, that maybe his real issue was one about connection.

While Merl and Vela chatted away, he cut another slice of steak, piled on the egg, and the salsa, and shoved it in his mouth. He stared at the light granite of the island and chewed slowly.

His life had always been pretty simple. His mother had died when he was very young and his father had been, clear up until the day of his death, a sonofabitch who drank too much.

Samuel had lived a man’s life, a harsh life. That’s all he’d ever known. Even the torture he’d endured had been part of living his warrior’s life. In many ways, that was his job. He was a Militia Warrior; warring, tough, and yes, maybe somewhat disconnected. He loved to fuck women, but he never let anyone in. Maybe he didn’t know how, but like hell he’d put Vela through the trauma of seeing what he’d been through by engaging in something like mind-diving.

He was also concerned for her physical safety. For the most part he had control of his dark power, but he still didn’t know what might cause an event like the one that had killed those innocent workers. And he didn’t want to find out, especially not when Vela shared his bed.

He glanced at her, his heart swelling at the sight of her lovely profile, her mass of hair pushed behind her shoulders, flowing in waves and curls, away from her plate. She was a beautiful woman, over two-hundred-years-old. Ascended life broke the bonds of Mortal Earth so that here he sat, falling in love with a woman over twice his age.

She wore jeans again, a great look for her long legs. Her peach-colored blouse, nipped in at the waist, had a row of buttons down the middle that he’d like to unbutton one at a time. He’d caught a glimpse of her low-cut sheer bra and had almost kept her in the bedroom with him for an additional twenty minutes.

With some effort, he’d restrained himself.

And if he kept looking and thinking about what was under her clothes, he’d be in trouble all over again.

He focused on his meal, and every once in a while, joined in the conversation but mostly Merl liked talking, so he talked.

When at last, their host rounded the island and called for plates, Samuel slid his in Merl’s direction, who performed dishwasher duty.

He glanced at each of them in turn. “You two ready to see if you can seal a darkening grid wall together?”

“Can’t wait.” Vela smiled broadly then turned toward Samuel.

He still thought he was right about her, that she’d gotten spooked after that terrifying death vampire attack so long ago, and had reined in her life way too far. Even seeing her present excitement proved his point.

“All right, where do you want to do this?” Samuel looked around the kitchen then at the window with a view of the sunlit forest on the opposite mountainside. “I’m thinking we should leave the Phoenix Metro area.”

“That was my thought,” Merl said.

Vela looked from one to the other. “Right. In case we end up summoning wreckers accidentally, they won’t land in Merl’s living room again.”

For the next hour, Merl took them to various places around Second Earth, opening the grid then trying to seal it up, and only letting the approach of wreckers end their efforts.

Bottom line, Vela didn’t always have enough power to seal the grid by herself. She could do it maybe fifty percent of the time and when Samuel tried to join her, they became oil and water and the effort failed.

Later, back at Merl’s house, Samuel paced the living room. “The problem is that I don’t have the darkening ability. I can’t even see the grid wall.”

“But you have Third Earth power,” Merl said. “And you have a connection to the darkening or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not so sure. I know I have a connection to Vela, but not necessarily to the darkening.”

For some reason those words made her smile and he gave her a smile right back. Damn he liked her. No, he loved her, as much as he was able, he loved her. He’d been inside her mind, and knew her better than most of his friends, and he valued all that he knew her to be. In this short time he’d been with her, he’d fallen in love, maybe for the first time in his fucked up life.

She came to him, and this time when he opened his arms he didn’t hold back, he just let his feelings flow.

This feels good, she sent.

Yeah, it does. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad the breh-hedden came to us.

I know. Me, too. She lifted her head to look up at him. I didn’t mean to pick at you earlier. I think you might be right about me and I wasn’t happy about that.

Me, too.

She nodded briskly, leaned up and kissed him. Could a man ask for more?

If Merl hadn’t been present, he would have returned the favor and made her feel that kiss to her toes.

As it was, Merl cleared his throat. “Can we get on with this?”

Vela drew back. “Yes, sorry Merl. Just working some stuff out.” She blinked several times and listed on her feet.

“What’s wrong?” Samuel caught her arm and balanced her.

“Someone’s in trouble. It feels just like the last time, when Duncan called for me. Samuel, I have to go. This is why I’m here.”

“Just wait a second. Let’s get some back-up.”

“Can you hear her? My God the woman’s screaming like she’s in pain.”

But Samuel’s instincts didn’t mesh right now with Vela’s. “This doesn’t feel right to me.”

“How would you know? You’ve already said this isn’t your gift.”

He almost suggested she do a quick mind-dive and see what it was his instincts were telling him, but he shut that thought down fast. “Fine. Let’s check it out.”

“I’ll move us along as fast as I can and when we reach her, hopefully we can bring her back with us.” She glanced at Merl. “Can you sit tight?”

Merl held his hands palms up. “Of course, but are you sure you don’t want to call in Leto at least?”

“Merl, if we’d arrived two minutes later, Duncan would have died. Period. When the darkening calls, I have to go.”

She held out her hand to Samuel and he took it, but added, “Let me get armed.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He held out his free hand and drew his sword into his palm, a comfortable, solid, familiar weight, the identified grip like coming home. He’d battled a Third Earth wrecker not too many hours ago; he could do it again. If he thought about a squad of three, he shunted the image away.

He just wished he had one of those shotguns in hand, though he’d agreed with Thorne about getting them looked over before any of them attempted to fire one again in the darkening.

Besides, with Vela’s speed, he felt confident they could get into the darkening, take care of business, and get back before the wreckers arrived.

As before, Vela levitated them at astonishing speeds through tunnel after tunnel, but the farther they traveled from the entry point, the more sharply his warning bells rang in his head especially the moment they crossed through the dimension into Third.

Vela, something’s wrong. This place feels way too familiar. We need to get out of here.

I can’t leave. The woman’s screams are ringing in my head.

I can hear her, too, but I think it’s a trap.

We’re almost there.

One more tunnel and Vela stopped them just in front of a woman bound in familiar ropes, kneeling on the stone floor of the darkening space.

The stone floor.

Same floor as Duncan’s prison cell.

A split-second later, five ascenders appeared in front of them and the woman fell silent, staring at up at them, a hard glint in her dark eyes.

Vela turned, not in shock, but in determination. She started to pull Samuel back through the darkening, but two squads of wrecking crews arrived, shotguns in hand, cutting off their escape.

Behind them, a very familiar Third ascender appeared, stroking his black goatee.

“Welcome back, Samuel. Did you enjoy your year of freedom?” He spread his hands wide, “It took some doing, some careful manipulation, but here you are.”

“You motherfucker,” Samuel shouted, raising his sword.

“But he took the butt of a shotgun to the back of his head, felt the added jolt of preternatural power, and flew face forward at his torturer’s feet.

The last thing he heard was Sharav saying, “Don’t touch the sword, you idiot; it’s identified.”

Chapter Eight

Vela stared down at Samuel, now laid out on the stone floor, unconscious. This couldn’t be happening.

“Look at all that blond hair,” the woman said. “Can’t be a warrior. Not this one. Way too girlie.”

Vela pivoted and watched the decoy rise to her feet, a very powerful looking woman who touched the numerous ropes and folded them away. Underneath, she wore flight battle gear. She planted her hands on her hips and offered a knowing smile.

A hand caught Vela’s arm and held her fast. She turned and stared at one of the wreckers. She didn’t even try to pull away from him; her body seemed frozen, incapable of movement.

Sharav lifted his wrist to his mouth and spoke softly. The next moment, an explosion sounded behind her, so loud that she gave a cry and tried to cover her ears, but the wrecker jerked her arm, forcing her to hold still.

He turned her to face the direction of the blast. A shotgun had just taken out the darkening wall, the smoky ash boiling past the breach, obscuring what lay beyond.

He yanked her through the breach, into a stone cell, on Third Earth proper, a very familiar cell. The air smelled funny, tainted, then she looked at the floor.

Blood.

She covered her mouth with her hand. This had been Duncan’s cell. She stood in the remnants of his blood.

Samuel arrived next, carried by three wreckers, his head lolling. She stood by helpless as they bound him with heavy ropes, each length carrying a preternatural charge. They strung him up by his wrists from a swivel hook on the ceiling.

Two of them caught her beneath her arms, pulled her backward, then bound her with rope to wrought iron rings on a wall ten feet from Samuel.

The odd thought went through her head that for an advanced, more powerful civilization, Third Earth still relied on some very ancient methods.

Sharav emerged from the darkening tunnel, the looped braids beside his face swinging as he moved.

He smiled, the easy smile of a powerful man who owned the room. “How do you do Vela Stillwell of Phoenix Two? Are you comfortable?”

She lifted her arms, pulling at the ropes that bound her to the wall. “I’d be more comfortable in a recliner, but so far I can’t complain.”

“At least you’re not sniveling and begging to be released.”

“How about this: fuck you, Sharav.”

“And you know my name.”

“I know the man who tortured Samuel.”

“And you led him right to me. But just to be clear, I won’t be keeping you around much longer, just enough to give your man a little heartache. And though your power, for a Second ascender, is impressive, on Third, sweetheart, you’re pretty mediocre.”

Something inside Vela grew very still. He’d tortured both Duncan and Samuel, transformed Samuel into a Third Earth warrior against his will, and now intended her death. Well, she wasn’t dead yet, so for now, she stayed focused and relaxed. If there was a way to take this motherfucker out, she meant to do it.

“Yes, you have some spirit. I’ll give you that.”

Vela thought about his earlier remark, that Sharav had gone through some hoops to get Samuel back. “So, let me understand, you designed this whole situation, to get Samuel under your control again?”

“Everything having to do with Duncan, yes.”

“Why? What can Samuel possibly mean to you?”

“You’ve felt his power, so you know that he possesses enormous potential. I just wasn’t able to bring it to fullness before he escaped.”

“Was I part of the plan?”

Sharav turned toward her more fully. “No, which makes you extremely problematic for me on many levels.”

“Oh, I see. Even though you were in the future streams, at the Illinois Seers Palace, you never saw me coming?”

“It won’t hurt now to tell you the truth, but no, I didn’t. You are one big annoying surprise.”

“Well, at least I have that,” she said, holding his gaze steady. “That I’ve annoyed you.”

He moved closer and before she could even prepare, he slapped her hard across the face. The sting hurt, the surprise of it frightened her, but it was the ensuing pain that made her head hang. Her jaw felt like he’d just crushed it with that blow and a couple of her teeth were loose.

She felt her vampire healing kick in and did nothing else except let it flow. Just in case, she could figure some way out of this mess, she at least needed her jaw and head intact.

Sharav moved toward Samuel. Vela could see him through a blur of watery eyes, another unwelcome effect of the blow. She blinked until the tears disappeared.

The goateed asshole approached Samuel from the front, folded off Samuel’s weapons harness, and planted one hand on the center of his chest and one hand on his forehead.

Samuel’s body jerked hard but he lifted his head, his eyes rolling. “Fuck,” he murmured. Then, “Vela?”

I’m here. To your right. I’m alive.

He tried to turn his head toward her but Sharav caught his face in his hands. “I have you back now, my boy. This time, nothing will take you from me and this time, we’re going to tap that power deep and bring it forward for all to see. In fact, we’re going to do it right now.”

“Fuck you, Sharav.”

“You’re slurring because one of my wreckers hit you across the back of your head and you’re still not quite in control.” He lifted Samuel’s arm and gave it a tug, which set the ceiling hook pivoting a quarter turn.

Vela could see his face now. He had to work at focusing.

“There’s your woman. Don’t worry. She’s all right. I just had to shut her up.”

What did he do to you?

Doesn’t matter.

She looked into Samuel’s gray eyes, and saw his determination grow. She could feel it, that he was trying to access the killing part of his power.

So could Sharav, because he stepped away from him. At the same time, Samuel’s dark, grayle mist flowed from his body, that part of his mist-power that he could control.

“Good,” Sharav said. “Let it build, that angry stream of rage that has lived in you since our time together in Honduras Two. Every lash, every cut, every bruise brought this power to the surface.

“Release it, Samuel. Let me see the power that got you out of that prison-fortress, the one that Endelle’s grid could never find.”

Vela sensed Samuel’s power rising, the same power that he feared to release more than anything else in his life.

She began to hope. She knew Samuel’s mind and the rage he carried toward Sharav, his desire to kill him. If Samuel could use all that power, aim it at Sharav...

But even as the thought flowed through her head, she knew exactly what was going to happen.

Samuel, she began, Don’t! This is what he wants!

But Samuel had blocked her, his mist flowing in streams, though not like before, much heavier this time and whipping from side-to-side.

“No,” she shouted. “Samuel, no!”

But Samuel focused his attention on Sharav, whose eyes glowed, and who murmured quietly, “Weakling.”

That did it.

Samuel’s secondary grayle power rose, a dark stream of energy that poured from him, straight at Sharav.

For a moment, hope soared, but Sharav merely smiled, lifted his hand, and Samuel’s terrible, deadly energy angled off his palm and hit Vela square in the chest.

She jerked hard as a sensation like lightning struck her body.

She expected her heart to stop working all at once, but on some level, she recognized and loved that power, knew it to be essentially all Samuel.

Some of the power shunted through her system to invade her arms and legs, but the rest began a slow, painful intrusion in the direction of her heart. Her breath came in gasps.

Vela. I can’t stop this.

I know.

Hold on.

Vela felt the power driving into her chest in fractional increments. She tried to set up a shield but failed. She tried mentally to move it elsewhere, but couldn’t.

“Sharav,” Samuel cried out. “Let her go. She’s done nothing.”

“She’s interfered and made my life difficult. We’ve lost several excellent wreckers because of her. She must die but I wanted you to be involved, to enjoy the moment, the pure poetry of it.”

Sharav then released his palm and for a split-second, Vela hoped this one act would end the stream, instead, the flow of Samuel’s power became a straight arrow toward Vela, doubling in strength.

But Sharav frowned. “She has more power than I thought, to have withstood your grayle stream this long.”

The words meant something to Vela, striking a deep chord, one that Samuel had touched on earlier, about her life and her choices, about what the death vampire attack had done to her. Somehow the answer to this brutal situation lay within those words, that she had more power than even Sharav knew and that to get out of this situation, she needed to believe in who she was, who she’d always been.

When she thought of that attack so many decades ago, a new awareness came to her, that Jeff had heard her calling to him. But that wasn’t possible because she’d screamed from her mind, a telepathic cry, and he didn’t have advanced mind-to-mind abilities. Yet that was exactly what had happened. She’d called out for help, her mind to his, directing those thoughts outside herself, and Jeff had come.

She had essentially rescued herself.

But what good would that do in this situation? She might be able to reach Endelle telepathically, but even Her Supremeness couldn’t access the Third grid or even fold to Third because the portal was sealed up tight. She was on her own.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel couldn’t believe that he was killing the woman he loved, the thing he’d feared the most, that somehow his power would escape him and he’d murder another innocent. He just never thought it would be Vela because he’d been so careful.

And he had no control over the stream of energy, no shut-off switch.

He tried to remember how he’d stopped it while in Honduras. He remembered running, but the power still trailed from him, and reached for anything living as he ran forward. He’d become a vampire killing machine.

Duncan had escaped because he’d warned him to fold the hell out of the region, otherwise he would have died that day as well.

He’d reached the top of a hill and screamed his rage until he’d fallen unconscious. And maybe that was what he needed to do right now. He started to shout but Sharav placed a hand on his head and he couldn’t move.

“Just stay focused, just like this.”

Samuel couldn’t move, couldn’t do a damn thing.

He met Vela’s gaze and mouthed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Me, too. My fault. I was stubborn. I should have listened to you about who I am. Now it’s too late.

He agonized as his dark power streamed toward her, hurting her, driving toward her heart, seeking her death.

How he loved this woman.

He grew very still in his spirit and his thoughts took a new direction as in how he’d ended up here. What had he done wrong? Not seen?

He’d tried to avoid this exact situation, yet here he hung, the flip side of his grayle power pummeling an innocent woman. He thought he’d had a good handle on protecting those around him, by restraining his power and refusing to allow Vela to mind-dive.

He understood now that Sharav had been using him as some kind of experiment, to transform him perhaps into a Third Earth warrior that could be controlled, made into a weapon for Chustaffus or one of the other faction leaders.

As past images flowed through his mind, a shadowy figure emerged and he knew then that Chustaffus had been to Honduras Two on more than one occasion, maybe even directing the experiments. A feeling of age flowed toward him and around him as he remembered Chustaffus. An ancient evil.

He recalled Vela saying to him so recently that he had a real problem connecting and suddenly the pieces fell together in his mind. He’d refused to let her in because it seemed the safest bet, but not because of his dangerous power, but because he’d never let anyone in before, not once in his long life. His rugged man’s life had taught him to keep close connections at bay, with everyone.

And she’d been right about the Warriors of the Blood. A close knit group like that demanded connection, deeper than he’d ever had with any of the Militia Warriors, not Duncan, not Gideon, not any of them.

I want you to mind-dive, Vela.

She lifted her weary head to look at him, her breaths in shallow pants as his grayle stream pressed into her. “You want me to mind-dive?” she said aloud.

Sharav laughed. “Yes, do that Vela. Mind-dive and let all that power take out your brain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Sharav?” Samuel asked.

“Very much. Death can be a beautiful thing to watch, a kind of thrill that never ceases to please.” A red hue colored his cheeks as he licked his lips, as if hungry for more.

Samuel turned toward the woman he loved, his breh, and then he understood what needed to be done, how he fit with Vela, how their powers could mesh, if he would only let her in. “Mind-dive, Vela. Don’t listen to him. See who I am. All of me. Just as you wanted to. Take this one last adventure.”

* * * * * * * * *

Vela could feel that Samuel’s power was only a few millimeters away from piercing the muscle of her heart.

He’d asked her to mind-dive, to take that trip within his mind that she’d been asking for, to connect with him, to be close to him.

Was Sharav right? Would his power stream into her mind and take her apart? Or would something else happen?

She would die anyway, so it didn’t matter which way she went. At the same time, Samuel seemed different and determined about allowing her to mind-dive, but it was also clear he had a reason for wanting her to do it.

“What are you waiting for,” Sharav said. “Jump into his mind.”

Then Vela got it, the real adventure she needed to take, if she had enough courage.

She recalled what had happened with Alison the night before, how Alison’s healing empathic power had flowed, easing Vela, then suddenly how Vela had comprehended Alison’s power and returned the favor.

At the time, Vela had thought she might have emerging empathic abilities, but now she understood the truth; she could join herself to another power and reflect it, perhaps even make it stronger.

Did Samuel know? Was that why he’d suggested a mind-dive?

But this wasn’t about mind-diving; it was about connecting. And Samuel was ready.

And what do you know? She wanted this adventure, too.

With the current stream of energy so close to taking her life, Vela released the last of her fears and embraced all that her powers could mean in her life. She thought about how she had reflected Alison’s healing power and with that thought, she took hold of Samuel’s grayle power, bringing it into her fully so that the stream, instead of punching through her heart, disseminated and flooded her body with tremendous strength and purpose.

Still holding Samuel’s gaze, and fully aware that Sharav had no idea what had just happened, she lifted her hands and focused Samuel’s stream of power, now greater and stronger, in Sharav’s direction.

The grayle stream hit him unprepared, and the look of horror that crossed his face as the blast struck home, told Vela all that she needed to know.

She gave full rein to her reflective power, not hesitating for a moment, not even with the knowledge that Sharav would die because of it. He staggered on his feet, then flew backward, his eyes rolling as an anguished sound burst from his throat.

A dark mist boiled from the center of his chest.

Vela let it run until she saw that a deep cavity remained where Sharav’s ribs, lungs, and heart used to reside, the stench in the room almost overpowering.

But the moment she wanted the stream to stop, it stopped.

She stared at Sharav for a long moment, then shifted to Samuel to meet his gaze, then upward to the ropes that still bound him.

Samuel gathered his strength and began to pull. He grunted and shouted, tugging on the bindings. “We’ve got to get out of here, before a crew shows up.”

“But what about the ropes?” Her gaze traveled to the ceiling hook.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel smiled as he started straining against the knots. “Here’s the good news. The power inherent in these bindings, belonged to Sharav, now he’s dead.”

The ropes started to snap so that within a few seconds, he’d freed himself. He crossed to Vela and ripped the rope bindings off her wrists, dragged her against his waist, and closed his eyes. He mentally sought for his sword and found it surrounded by a crew designed to salvage identified weapons. He folded the sword into his hand.

He heard running footsteps and watched as the grid wall began to close. But the opening allowed him to do a last second fold and he took them both within.

“My turn,” Vela said. She put on her best speed and the next moment raced through the darkening.

Explosions sounded behind them and not far away at all.

Can I help? he sent.

Just hold me close.
That’s helping.

Samuel let his power flow, but he sensed it could do nothing to aid with her speed, so he addressed another potential problem.

Merl, he sent. We’re on our way back to your house. Sharav laid a trap, but he’s dead now. Wreckers at our heels.

Got it. Calling in reinforcements.

On through dozens of criss-crossing tunnels, Vela never failing to make instant choices.

He felt them cross the dimensional boundary, like a preternatural speed-bump.

We’re almost there, Vela sent. But another explosion hit close and debris bit at his calves.

One more tunnel.

And damn would you look at that. Where Merl’s wall used to exist, and just inside the darkening grid, stood an array of Warrior of the Blood power that not even a wrecking crew could withstand because each held one of the re-identified shotguns: Thorne, Leto, and this time, Luken, whose mere size would deter the best wrecker warrior any day.

Of course the explosions had also taken out Merl’s wall, but the bastard, standing in his living room beyond, grinned.

As Samuel and Vela passed by the What-Bees and essentially ran straight into Merl’s house, Samuel whirled and watched as a wrecking crew broke through the opposite wall. They met a hail of rapid weapon-fire as all three warriors, Luken clearly up to speed, unloaded their weapons and vaporized the enemy.

Yet even in the distance another explosion sounded as a second crew approached.

“We’ve only got a few seconds,” Vela cried out.

Merl shouted, “Move out of the grid now!”

The three warriors turned and leaped. Just as Merl started closing up the darkening wall, an explosion ripped through the air as another wrecking crew arrived, shotguns at their hips.

Vela joined Merl, this time planting a hand on his shoulder, instead of on the wall, experiencing his power and reflecting it. As the second squad fired, her power spread over the darkening wall.

Samuel watched a golden aura pass over the wall, creating a seal even as the explosion sounded from the other side.

The air vibrated strangely.

The aura wavered.

Samuel held his breath.

But the wall held.

Silence reigned for a good long moment, until Merl stepped away from the wall and turned to face the room. “We’re good.”

Vela shifted as well.

Samuel glanced from one astonished face to the other, adrenaline still flowing through every vein present and all but singing through the air.

Vela planted her hands on her hips. “Well, that was fun.”

Everyone laughed.

Samuel crossed to her and took her in his arms. His head fucking hurt, but Vela lived and right now nothing else mattered.

* * * * * * * * *

Back in Endelle’s private suite, Vela sat on Samuel’s lap in the large purple chair that faced away from the open air wall. Endelle had called the gathering to announce that for the first time in over 200 hundred years, the Warriors of the Blood would have a new member.

An hour earlier, they’d each shared their experiences with Endelle in her private office, with Thorne present as well. Endelle had made her position clear. “You’d better join up, asshole, and start working out with your new brothers, or next time you and your woman might not be so lucky. We clear?”

Samuel had surprised Vela by merely nodding. “Yes, Madame Endelle. It would be my honor to serve.”

Now they were here among a gathering of some of Second Earth’s most powerful vampires.

From her position, she could see everyone clearly, including those who ranged behind the chair in which she sat.

Even baby Helena flew from ascender to ascender, up to her antics that kept the warriors saying, “Just like her dad.”

Kerrick stood near Alison, smiling and holding his left arm in a crook for the baby to land. Apparently, they’d been teaching her boundaries but the challenges of parenting, true from the beginning of time, never ceased.

Luken, Zacharius, and Santiago addressed the real flying-baby problem, having formed a line in front of the space where a wall should have existed. Endelle had built the palace with lots of open-air balconies and no windows. Baby Helena, in true ‘like father’ mode, kept testing all three warriors, trying to find her way into the wild.

Vela watched Helena fly toward the men, but each started jumping up and down and waving his arms, which kept the toddler from moving forward. Fortunately, she grew fatigued easily, so Santiago formed an arm-crook, and Helena made another landing. She leaned her head on his arm and he spoke to her with the softest smile on his lips, as the flutter of her wings kept her balanced.

At a right angle to Vela’s position, and not far from the three un-bonded warriors, Alison stood talking quietly to Fiona, who in turn leaned against her breh, Jean-Pierre.

On the far wall, near the entrance to the room, Antony and Parisa stood together, looking fatigued since they’d just gotten back from a wings of fire demonstration in Europe Two, just outside of Paris. Antony had his arm around Parisa, holding her close. He kept dipping down and whispering things to her that made her blush. She’d then lift up, and kiss him on the lips. Even though Parisa stood five-ten in her bare feet, Antony towered over her at six-seven.

On the couch nearest Vela, Havily sat beside Marcus. They held hands, but from the time they’d entered the room, the pair had engaged in an argument about some web-campaign or other. Between clashes, however, Marcus would lift their joined fingers and plant a couple of kisses on the back of her hand that always made Havily smile.

Directly across from Vela, in a matching, warrior-sized purple chair, Grace sat on Leto’s lap, her head buried in his shoulder. She sighed several times. The breh-hedden had invaded their lives in a serious way only a month ago. The joke made the rounds often that they were on their breh-moon. From the way Leto stared at Grace, Vela knew he wasn’t thinking about anything in this room right now, maybe just how soon he could be alone with his woman.

Thorne stood guard at the door, his arms folded over his chest, his expression serious. She could almost read his mind, that his thoughts remained in his Command Center and with the hundreds of thousands of Militia Warriors at risk because of three rogue generals.

Thorne’s breh, Marguerite, was the only one of the group not present. But she’d put in a long day with her Seers and because she carried twins in her seventh month, she needed her rest and had begged off from the meeting.

As for Merl, he hung back, leaning against the wall a few feet beyond Luken. He occasionally drew a lit cigarette to his lips, which he held low and away. His gaze, however, rarely strayed from Endelle. Vela thought Braulio might be wise to find his way back to Second Earth, the sooner the better. To leave a woman hanging for a month, especially one like Endelle, didn’t bode well for the longevity of the relationship.

Samuel hadn’t lost physical contact with her from the time they’d been in the darkening, always holding her hand, touching her, drifting his hand up and down the center of her back. Her chest kept expanding.

Samuel had been right. She’d loved her adventurous life and the death vampire attack so many decades ago had stolen that from her. But her spirit had been reborn over the past two days through so many harrowing experiences.

She wouldn’t be a counselor; she’d made that decision. But just what would occupy her time she couldn’t say except that Endelle had just added Vela to her immediate staff as a Third Earth Liaison, duties to be defined as events unfolded.

“Because we have Vela’s future settled as well,” Endelle said, turning toward Samuel, “I think I need to make something clear to you, Warrior. We haven’t had an induction into the Warriors of the Blood since Jean-Pierre here,” she waved a hand in his direction to her left. “And that was over two-hundred-years ago. You’d better do us proud.” She then called out to Luken, “How about you take it from here.”

Luken stepped away from the balcony, moving past Endelle so that he could face Samuel. Kerrick shifted back into position next to Santiago, to make sure his daughter didn’t escape.

Luken was the biggest of all the warriors and had a tenderness unsurpassed, for a man built for war. His crystal blue eyes never looked less than haunted and Vela knew his gaze skated everywhere struggling hard not to land on Havily, who he’d loved from the time of her Ascension over a hundred years ago. Luken was a good man, a worthy man, former European Two royalty, and wore his long blond hair, like all the What-Bees did, caught back in the cadroen.

“Warrior Samuel, back-up Section Leader for the Thunder God Warriors, I invite you to join the Warriors of the Blood. If you accept, you’ll be under my direct leadership and subject to terms of service as dictated by the Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth. And I do mean dictated.”

A masculine chuckle flowed through the room.

“All the warriors present in this room discussed and approved your invitation to rise to Warrior of the Blood status by the only manner a warrior can rise: unanimous agreement and consent. Your service will continue until you are called to either Third Earth for permanent ascension, or until the Creator should call you home. Do you accept our invitation?”

Vela tried to leave Samuel’s lap because the moment seemed to call for some level of decorum, but he prevented her, saying quietly, “Don’t leave. This is the way I want it; with you close by. We’re connected now.”

Her throat tightened. She met his gaze and nodded.

To Luken, he said, “I accept. With all my heart, and without the smallest reservation, I accept.”

The cheer that went up, so full of the deep masculine sound of the warriors’ combined voices, thrilled Vela to the center of her being. Nothing could have been more perfect or more beautiful.

Endelle glanced at Marcus. “What the fuck are you doing on your cell? Can’t you see we’re having a goddamn moment here?”

But Marcus looked up at her and said. “I know this isn’t the most appropriate moment, and Warrior Samuel, forgive me for this, but if we had the induction ceremony in Paris—” He let the suggestion hang.

Samuel said, “I thought it would be here, at the palace. I assumed it would be.”

Vela shifted to look at Marcus. “I get it,” she said, turning back to Samuel. “One of the rogue generals operates a base out of Romania Two and his strategies include working our allies in Western Europe. A ceremony in Paris would send a strong message.”

“Exactly,” Marcus said.

Endelle rolled her eyes. “Does everything we do have to involve some kind of political slant?”

At least five of the ascenders responded in unison, “Yes.”

“Well, shit.” She scowled. “I was looking forward to a kegger in the desert.”

Marcus just shook his head.

“Fine-uh,” she stated. “Luken, you came out of that damn royalty jungle in Western Europe Two, and I know you were glad to get the hell out. You okay with this?”

Vela knew that Luken had fringe ties with European royalty and that he hadn’t been back from the time he’d signed on as a Warrior of the Blood centuries ago.

“Of course,” Luken said. “We have to do everything we can right now.” However, he turned to Marcus and lowered his chin. “But don’t fucking ask me to do more than that, you got it?”

Marcus waited a beat, holding Luken’s gaze steadily, then said, “Understood.”

Endelle tilted her head. “Samuel, you good with all this?”

“Absolutely.”

The Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth made a raspy sound at the back of her throat. “Damn war.” She glanced around, her gaze finally landing once more on Samuel. “Take your woman home. You still live in your Scottsdale house, not far from Gideon’s?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “We have something in common, you and me.”

“What’s that?

“We both like our homes to hang off mountainsides.”

He returned the smile. “I guess we do at that.”

She nodded a few times briskly. “Welcome home, warrior. I like this new grayle power of yours and you’ll make a fine addition to the Warriors of the Blood. Just to be safe, I’ll set a dome of protective mist over your house for the time being, at least until we see if any of Sharav’s buddies want you dead as well. We’ll pick all of this back up tomorrow. Both of you be at my office at ten.”

“Yes, Madame Endelle.”

She glanced at the group, left to right. “We have a war to finish, people, and now some sort of Third bullshit to deal with. Those of you heading out to battle, get going. The rest of you, head home.”

Everyone started rising from the couches and chairs or leaning away from walls, when Marcus spoke up. “One more thing, everyone. The induction ceremony will be black tie, with a ball afterwards and several receptions preceding. Just thought you should be prepared.”

A general round of groans followed, but Endelle summed it up, “Aw, fuck.”

Chapter Nine

“This is your home?” Vela looked around awestruck.

Samuel smiled. “Not what you expected?”

“I should say not and yet it suits you so well.”

Just as Endelle had said, he’d built the house on a hillside overlooking the northern reaches of Scottsdale Two, but the entire back half of the large sprawling home encompassed a massive atrium, three stories high.

He led Vela into the atrium, where three large, wood-carved hawks, painted in great detail, cruised the air streams. A forest of plants below them sweetened the air. “I’d had a sort of vision for this decades ago. I needed a house, but I thought, what the hell, I didn’t want the same-old, same-old.”

He gestured west. “You can see through the front windows and the view is beautiful night or day. That long ridge in the distance the White Tanks, of course, and beyond that the White Lake Resort Colony.”

She turned back to the atrium. “This is amazing. Stone, wood, glass.” She turned toward him. “Who did the work for you?”

“A designer. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her. Tazianne?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t? She’s won a lot of awards. I know that Warrior Antony has a piece in his villa.” She tilted her head. “You’re an amazing mix, Samuel: powerful as hell, kind, and now a surprising architectural aesthetic. And yet I’m not surprised. I’ve had a sense of you from the first, a gift of the breh-hedden, I think, and all of this fits, helping me to see the whole man. Although I suspect if I went to the fridge—” She let the words hang.

He shrugged. “What can I say? Unfortunately, Merl and I have a few things in common.”

As he met Vela’s gaze and absorbed her compliments, all that she’d said beyond the oh-so-true food comment, the shift in his life stunned him. How much his world had changed in two days that what had seemed right, now seemed so wrong, that he had lived his solitary existence content. “I want you to know that you’re the first woman I’ve brought here, Vela. I want you to know that, how much you mean to me.”

She nodded and reached for his hand. “So what do you want, Samuel, here, tonight? Do you know?”

“There’s only one thing I want right now, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.” He drew her into his arms, adjusting to make sure he didn’t pin down all that hair, and took a deep breath. “I want to complete the breh-hedden with you.”

She slid her hands around his neck. “You know that means mind-diving, right?” But she smiled, such a beautiful smile, her large blue eyes glittering.

“I know that it means you’ll know more about me than you may ever want to know.” A chill went through him of what he’d endured at Sharav’s hand. He hated the thought of her seeing any of that.

“Samuel, I’m prepared. And I know that I’ll see things that will distress me, but I can handle it.”

He nodded. “Okay. So the breh-hedden is what you want as well?” he asked.

“Without question. You were so right about me. When I was chained up in Duncan’s cell, and your power beat at me, I remembered something about that attack in 1922: I wasn’t as unequipped as I’d always thought. I called for Jeff. I did that myself telepathically. The moment I realized my part in surviving the attack, I knew I wouldn’t ever go back to my former life, that what I wanted, what I needed was right here with you, with this crazy darkening power, and with whatever the future holds.”

He kissed her, a single kiss on the lips then drew back. “I hated seeing you chained up then attacked by my own power and it’s going to take me some time to get over what happened to you, to us. At the same time, it pushed me where I needed to go. You were right; I’ve been afraid of connection all my life.”

“But you’re not anymore.”

He chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t say that. Let’s just say, I want to connect with you and I know I belong fighting beside the Warriors of the Blood. No question. But it’s you, Vela, you’re the why of this moment, why I would say yes to something so invasive as the breh-hedden.”

“I feel exactly the same way.”

“I know. God, I’m so sorry you had to be in that cell.”

“I’m not, well maybe I am, but look where it got us?”

He watched tears fill her eyes and love suddenly flowed like a powerful force through his body, a rush of heat, affection, and desire combined. He kissed her and she moaned, her lips parting. He drove his tongue into her, tasting her, savoring the feel of her in his arms. Never in a thousand years would he have believed that something like this, so full of passion, sex, and love would have descended on his life.

He was amazed. “Let me take you to bed.”

She nodded.

He slid an arm around her shoulders beneath the weight of her hair and using his free arm to catch her behind her knees, he lifted her up. Carrying her meant something, that she belonged to him and more of that warm affection flowed.

He moved out of the atrium and down the stone path that led to his bedroom. The wall curved, so he shifted her at an angle taking care that he didn’t bump her head or crush her foot.

As he carried her across the threshold, she gave a soft cry. “Look at that view.” Scattered lights twinkled in a long vista north to south.

“That’s why I chose this site.” His bedroom had a wall of windows and no neighbors, just a view of distant lights, and various hills creating a soft dark skyline against a panorama of stars.

He turned her in the direction of his massive larger-than-king bed.

“And that’s a big bed,” she said, laughter in her voice, a sound he’d come to love. Vela had a basic love of life.

“What can I say? I like room to spread out when I sleep.”

She looked up at him and caught his face in her hand. “And you won’t mind me taking up some of that space?”

His heart did that balloon floating thing and a soft moan left his throat. “No. I want you taking up that space more than anything in the world. I love you. There I’ve said it. I love you, Vela.”

“I love you, too. I honestly didn’t think I’d have love again, ever. My life had closed down to this small little box that I’d crawled into when Jeff died. And now you’re here, this tremendous miracle in my life.”

“This is a miracle, isn’t it?”

She nodded, then leaned in to kiss him, a sealing of vows spoken, of desire and need, of hearts reaching and joining.

When he drew back, he said, “I will always love you, Vela, and be so grateful that you came into my life and that you didn’t hold back when all this happened between us. You could have, but you didn’t.”

“I feel exactly the same way about you, that I’m so grateful.”

He set her down on the bed, her light floral scent teasing him all over again, reminding him that what he had with Vela belonged to just a handful of ascenders.

The breh-hedden.

When she stretched out on her back, he leaned down, planting his hands on the bed, on either side of her, and kissed her, a soft pushing at her lips, imagining doing the same thing between her legs.

When her lips parted and his tongue slid into her mouth, he groaned. Her scent now suffused the air; the breh-hedden at its best.

He sighed as he drew back. “I feel as though I’ve known you all my life. How strange is that?”

“Very, but I feel the same way. I think we may have lived a lifetime together in the past two days.” She chuckled softly. “Maybe several lifetimes.”

“I think you might be right.”

She reached up and slid her hands into his hair, pulling it forward over his shoulders. “I love your hair.” She leaned close and sniffed. “It smells like you. Chocolate and man together.”

“Mmmm, and I’m smelling—” He sniffed then shook his head. “I know your fragrance, but I still can’t place it. Maybe one day I’ll figure it out, but it’s very light and floral. Seductive.”

She leaned up and kissed him. Your scent heats me up so fast.

He kissed her repeatedly, drawing her closer, savoring the feel of her against him. But he thought-the-thought and got rid of his weapons harness, which prompted an approving murmur from her throat.

After a moment, she pulled back to meet his gaze, a hand on his chest. “I think I should tell you flat out that I’m nervous about completing the breh-hedden. I mean, I want to. I really do. I don’t have any doubts, I’m just excited and anxious at the same time. I can’t imagine what it will be like, but did you see Leto and Grace earlier?”

He chuckled softly, kissing her neck. “He wanted her home in bed.”

“I know. And now here we are.”

Samuel could sense her fears, but they felt normal to him and to a degree mirrored his own edged-up state. But he thought he knew how to get things moving in the right direction.

While she lay on her back, he started unbuttoning her blouse, and each time he did, he dipped down and kissed her chest, lower each time, until his tongue slid between the beautiful line of her cleavage.

Her hands worked his hair and slid over his back.

He plunged his tongue in and out until she panted and pressed against him, trying to get closer.

It takes so little, she sent, to get worked up with you. I have your scent in my nose and I swear it feeds straight into my brain and makes me dizzy and weak.

I want you weak, he returned, continuing to ply his tongue between her breasts. At the same time, he worked the rest of the buttons loose and shoved her blouse away.

He drew back just enough to have a good look. Vela had beautiful breasts, very round and full. He put his hand on her bra and folded it away.

Her nipples, now tight buds, called to him.

Once more he dipped but this time to take a breast in his mouth. He flipped his tongue sideways over the nipple then sent, I want to release a potion. Okay?

Oh. God. Yes.

Her legs hung over the side of the bed so he pushed her knees wide, then stepped between.

Because she was nervous, he had a plan and he meant to work it so that by the time he took her the distance with the breh-hedden, she’d be more than ready.

He settled a hand low on her hip, leaned over her once more and, with his lips, slowly tended to each breast.

You feelin’ this, Vela?

Yes. Your tongue is like fire on me.

He flicked her nipples, one after the other, with just the tip of his tongue, moving between them. When the moaning started, he paused over her right breast, released his fangs and struck, the potion flowing at the same time. He removed his fangs and took as much of her breast in his mouth as he could. He sucked hard on the nipple.

Small cries left her throat in a series of staccatos. I’m on fire. Oh, your potion is amazing.

He sensed her need and folded off her jeans then rubbed her inner thighs and worked his way toward her mons. He played with her bareness, tracing her swollen lips down and down until he found the source of her wetness. He slid his finger inside and her body arched.

“So close,” she said aloud.

He removed his finger, then plunged two inside and thrust in and out in a strong steady rhythm, sucking her nipple and letting the potion do its work.

* * * * * * * * *

Vela loved a well-placed potion. The fire around her nipple kept spreading through both breasts and even now seeped into her abdomen.

Samuel used his fingers exactly right, not too fast, so that she lived on the edge of an orgasm, panting lightly, waiting for the potion to travel right where she wanted it, straight through her clitoris.

I’m holding steady for you, Vela. You waiting until the potion floods your entire body?

Her mind sent something in answer to his question, a ‘yes’, but probably garbled. She trusted Samuel to understand and since she felt or heard him chuckle, as he continued to suck and to plunge his finger in and out of her, she felt confident he knew exactly what she wanted.

The potion continued its journey. She turned her head to the side, grasping for small puffs of air, and releasing even smaller bits.

She was so close, so close.

Her voice emitted small grunts and she didn’t even care how it sounded. She kept her mind focused on only one thing, the way the potion crept lower, now only an inch away, now less.

The sensation flooded her clitoris all at once and she screamed as she came.

Samuel thrust his fingers harder, which intensified the pulses deep in her body.

Her back arched and the sensation held, throbbing, sending pleasure over and over through her well, into her abdomen, up and up. But when it passed, she was still left with more fire, more need.

Samuel slowed his movements. Then after a few seconds he began again, which caught her by surprise because another orgasm swept through her, the fire all along her torso now spreading up through her shoulders and down her legs.

She wanted to grab him, roll his hips onto her and beg him to take her, but she couldn’t seem to move, just feel the pleasure rolling through her in successive waves.

Finally, she grew very still, almost frozen in place, as though holding onto the sensations that had just rocked through her.

“That was…magnificent.” She couldn’t believe she’d even gotten the words out of her mouth.

He removed his fingers then rose up to fold away his kilt and battle sandals. “I loved feeling all that happen to you, the way your body moved as I sucked your breast.”

She nodded and when she realized he’d lost his clothes, she sat up on the edge of the bed and placed her hands on his thick, heavy pecs. She started to play with him then had a new idea: again, turnabout’s fair play.

She met his gaze and saw the soft smile on his lips. “What do you want from me, Vela? Tell me. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I want you on your back. You game, warrior?”

He seemed to lose focus for a moment then took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Let’s get rid of the comforter first.”

She watched him fold the comforter back in thirds then flip it off the end of the bed.

But as he turned and looked at her, he stopped all movement, a beautiful Greek statue in the moonlight.

His gaze drifted slowly down her body then back up. She had intended to order him onto the bed, but the look on his face, of utter reverence, stopped her, at least for the moment. He drew her into his arms. Feeling the length of his body pressed against hers as he kissed her deeply, as he held her in a tight embrace, warmed something deep in her heart, something that had been cold and vacant for a long time.

This was love, being held and savored, cherished.

Her heart expanded, all that warmth flooding her, filling her, easing her.

His hands stroked her wing-locks and she returned the favor. Her fingers grew wet as she went from one to the other, teasing and rubbing until he was firm against her body. She parted her legs so he could slide all that wonderful girth between her thighs.

“So, what did you have in mind?” he asked.

Vela tried to remember, but now he had both hands on her ass and was pushing harder between her legs, arching his hips.

She drifted her hands over his shoulder and down his pecs, then her earlier idea came back to her. “Wait,” she said. “I remember now.”

She stepped away from him, took his hand and led him back to the bed. “In the center, on your back, please.”

He crawled and flopped, grabbing her arm and tugging in such a way that she fell on his chest.

She came up laughing.

If the specter of the breh-hedden rose in her head to worry her, she repressed the thought. Right now, she had only one job, to enjoy her man.

She slid off of him and positioned herself on her knees beside him. “You have the most beautiful body,” she said, letting her hands express all that she felt. She fondled the hard muscles of his biceps, up to stroke his shoulders, then down to his pecs. She leaned over and swirled her tongue over his nipple, flicking fast. Without giving him warning, she released her fangs, struck, and at the same time, released the potion. His body jerked but she held him down.

He grunted. “Oh, shit, that feels good.”

She sucked him, just as he had sucked her. Using her other hand, she explored his abs, playing with his body, teasing his navel and slowly going south.

But she didn’t have to go far until the crown of his cock was in her hand, his sturdy thickness causing her to throb deep between her legs.

She shifted jobs and swung her body in the direction of his groin, sucked the head of his cock several times then switched back to his nipple.

His legs moved restlessly. She held his cock at the base and worked him just a little, teasing him, as she continued to suck his nipple. Every once in a while, she dipped her hand just a little lower and rolled his balls with her fingers.

He breathed hard and his head rolled on the sheet back and forth.

“Oh, God, the fire is moving down my chest.”

She could easily take him the distance, just like this, finishing him off with her mouth or even riding him.

But as she debated which to do, Samuel changed things up. He rose suddenly, which popped her mouth off his nipple. He slid his arm around her waist, turning her at the same time to flip her on her back so that he had her beneath him.

“I need your blood.” His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I need it now.”

She gave a cry, because she knew what this would mean, the pleasure that his fangs would give her again. There was nothing like donating blood. Or taking it.

Without preamble, she spread her legs and he entered her, gliding easily into her wetness. She took him in, surrounding his back with her arms and wrapping her legs around his thighs. Best sensation in the world.

He groaned heavily as she leaned up to sweep her hair away from her neck. He dipped down and licked her vein until it rose, which didn’t take long.

Vela. That’s all he sent, then his fangs struck.

She shouted into the room. The pleasure was so intense, like a wave of touching all down her chest that kept flowing and repeating as he removed his fangs then sucked down her blood.

Her body clenched hard.

Vela, I’m so close. The fire of your potion is almost to my cock, and I want this to be it. Can you be ready?

Yes. Give me your wrist. Completing the breh-hedden required a mutual exchange of blood, full on intercourse, then deep-mind engagement and she was so ready. All her nerves had eased up; Samuel had taken care of that.

He held his wrist over her mouth. She licked and felt the veins rise. She struck quickly then formed a seal over the wound and began to drag his Samuel-flavored blood into her mouth.

All the sensations combined to send her into an altered state: the feel of his cock plunging steadily into her, his mouth sucking at her neck, drinking her blood, his powerful body moving over hers as she drank his blood down her throat. Pleasure poured through her brain like a drug. She might have been moaning; she couldn’t tell.

Your blood has hit my stomach. Oh, God, Vela, the power that’s flowing. My grayle wants out and I’m going to take us into the air.

She felt the levitation of both their joined bodies, surprised that the bed wasn’t a necessary counter-friction as he continued to drive into her.

Power.

Samuel’s Grayle power, as his body shed all that smoky mist, swirling around her, thickening his bitter chocolate scent. She felt drunk on so many sensations.

I’m going to enter your mind now, he sent.

Do it.

He pushed and her shields fell, or maybe they were already lying flat, just waiting for him to come to her.

* * * * * * * * *

Samuel had never been here before, suspended in the air, thrusting into a woman, sucking down her blood and with a potion in his groin readying him to fire off like a rocket. His grayle power had come online, giving force to his muscles as he pumped into Vela. He felt one with her and for the first time was truly at ease with his power.

But being inside Vela’s mind shifted everything into a new gear that revved up his heart at the same time.

This was the full expression of love.

He was with the woman he loved, who had come to mean the sun, moon, and stars to him, who had taken him out of his darkness and brought him into the light.

Her mind was beautiful, full of goodness and worth, of kindness toward her friends and full acceptance of his warrior state. He felt whole and complete, well-loved, his body saturated with pleasure so that with each thrust he came closer to a serious explosion.

His balls were tight and ready, his cock hard and she tugged on him with every rock of her hips.

Now flow into my mind, he sent. Let’s take this thing all the way.

Yes. Her mind crossed back into his and at that moment, the breh-hedden struck like a gale force wind, pounding down on him and her, because her mind was within his and he could see all that she was experiencing. Her pleasure became his and his became hers.

The fire of her potion struck at the same time.

He drew back from her neck. His body arched. His orgasm burst through him and pleasure flowed like nothing he’d known before. He shouted into the air and at the same time felt her own ecstasy streaking through her, exploding deep inside her well.

Her pleasure. His. Back and forth.

“Oh, God,” he shouted, because a second eruption took place and this time he writhed on her body. Somewhere he knew she was screaming as well, and pushing back against him.

Damn, Samuel. How you please me. Damn.

Yes. Oh, God, Vela. But his mind could say no more than those few words. His body felt on fire, into every muscle, tissue, and bone.

He continued to thrust and she kept pushing back at him, riding the immense wave of the breh-hedden. A third orgasm rushed out of him and once more he shouted and again she screamed as ecstasy flowed and pummeled and drove his sensations through her mind and hers through his, a complete and utter sharing.

When the last wave passed, and he settled his body against hers, as he took the levitation back down to the mattress, Samuel relaxed against her body. But he could feel what his cock felt like for Vela, within her well, what his hands felt like against her breast, his lips against her skin. All was a dual sensation, unending.

“My, God, Samuel. I could feel you come and it made my own orgasm so intense. Oh, the pleasure you experienced.” She stroked his head and kissed his neck.

He could do little more than lie there, taking it all in, relaxing maybe for the first time in his life. She was still in his mind, an extraordinary and peaceful presence, an easing of a hundred years of harsh, male living.

He sighed deeply.

“You’re at ease.”

“I am.” Incredible.

“I can feel what it’s like for you to have your cock deep inside me. It’s so male. A penetration, a conquering, and yet so much more.”

He chuckled. “Yes, it feels like that, like I’ve done what a man is supposed to do.”

She kissed his neck again. “I hope we get to do this a lot. Do you know that because of the breh-hedden, I can feel what my lips feel like against your skin?”

“Yes, I can tell that the stubble right there, at my jaw-line, prickles your lips.”

“Uh-huh.” She kept kissing him, small teasing bits of pressure against his cheeks and nose and finally his lips.

He kissed her for a long time, exchanging a dozen thoughts on what the breh-hedden felt like for each of them.

“More than anything,” she said, drawing back and smoothing her hand over his cheek then pushing her fingers into his hair, “I feel connected to you, very deeply. And I know you, how you think. I even saw some of what happened to you in Honduras, but the memories felt distant, even removed as though they existed in a former life.”

He met her beautiful blue gaze. “It was a former life. You’ve come to me now, bringing this tremendous gift that joins us.”

She chuckled and kissed him. “You’re wrong. You brought this gift to me. I’d set up a reclusive life for myself and you made me look at that, at my deepest truths. Maybe the breh-hedden brought us together, Samuel, but you showed me things that I’d never wanted to look at before. No, you brought this gift to me.”

“I feel the same way about you.”

With that, he kissed her and because he caught her floral scent, still an enigma, and because he could feel the pleasure his cock gave her, he began to move once more inside her, rocking his hips in a rhythm as old as time.

* * * * * * * * *

Long after even Horace had declared Duncan’s body fully recovered, Duncan remained in the hospital, lying on his side, unable to leave the trance-like state that had held him prisoner since his rescue.

Part of his mind functioned rationally; he knew when the nurses came and bathed him, when his friends approached his bed and spoke to him, and even when Rachel arrived and wept over him until her brother, Gideon, took her away.

Above all, Rachel caused the most distress. He’d loved her for decades and had been her lover for part of that time. But Rachel held beliefs so different from his own that when neither would compromise, they’d broken up permanently not long ago.

He wanted to give comfort and to explain, but he couldn’t because a running film of images kept him trapped, in which a woman called to him almost continuously, sometimes singing to him, sometimes speaking in a low seductive voice, but always engaging his heart, like a powerful call to ascension.

The woman lived on Third Earth and needed him desperately. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, her auburn hair in a beautiful curly mass around her face, cascading past her shoulders, her complexion glowing and pale, and her voice like an angel.

She told him that at exactly the right hour, he would rise from his bed and he would come to her, something he longed to do more than anything else in the world.

She had told him something else as well: that Rachel must die…

* * * * * * * * *

A week later, Vela took a long look around at the exquisite Parisian opera house, an unusual and rather ornate place for a Warrior of the Blood induction ceremony. She sat in a box beside Madame Endelle, a place of honor, since all European Two royalty inhabited the remaining first tier boxes the entire distance from one side of the room to the other.

Jewels glittered and each tux in the theater no doubt represented every famous Mortal Earth or Second designer in two dimensions. Samuel had chosen Hugo Boss, even though Greaves’s had favored him. All he’d said, while adjusting his white cuffs was that he intended to change the future. As simple as that. “Besides, why should Hugo Boss be punished for something that monster did?”

She’d smiled as she smiled now.

The experience had become far easier than she’d imagined because no one paid her the least attention. Why would they when she sat next to Endelle?

The Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth wore a turquoise sequined gown cut to her navel and split up each thigh mid-hip. A necklace of chunks of white crystals weighed down her chest. But it was her headpiece that caught everyone’s eye: a massive crown of peacock feathers backed by white ostrich feathers.

Vela loved it, the constant irreverence of Endelle’s absurd fashions, the way she basically said, ‘fuck off’ with every turn of her head, every hard laughing cast of her eye in the direction of a disapproving royal.

“You love this, don’t you?” Vela asked.

Endelle turned her head slowly, her strange wood-lined eyes meeting and holding Vela’s gaze. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve learned to make do in a way that keeps your head straight.”

She nodded, the feathers sweeping back-and-forth with the slow movement. “You have some understanding then, because you called it exactly right. We’ll need their alliance in the future, these royals I mean. But I want you to see the truth, so watch what happens.” She waved her hand in the direction of the audience, a more formal turn of her wrist than Vela would have expected from her.

Since all eyes were on Endelle anyway, a smattering of applause began, then more and more, until one after the other the audience rose to its feet, each person turned toward her, clapping vigorously.

Vela admitted she was surprised, and making use of her newly gained powers, she extended her senses and felt the truth that Madame Endelle wanted her to know: these people loved her and valued her, despite her absurdity.

Vela rose to her feet as well and added to the flow of admiration.

After a good long minute, Endelle waved her hands, indicating the ruckus should stop, and just as the last sound of applause died away, the lights dimmed.

“Endelle.”

Vela turned and gasped.

Braulio.

“Well, where the fuck have you been?” Endelle asked, keeping her voice low as the orchestra conductor took his place in the pit.

“I’m on my three-minute clock again, my sweet, on a new assignment and the council only allowed this one visit because I refused to take another step without at least talking to you.”

“What’s going on?” Her voice much softer this time.

He reached toward her and put his hand on her shoulder. Leaning down from behind her chair, he kissed her once, then met her gaze. “You probably already know since you’ve just felt the initial rumblings of trouble.” He glanced at Vela, then back.

Endelle’s shoulders sank low. “Third is revving up.”

“About ready to explode. We’re in it again, but be patient.”

Endelle snorted. “Do I have a choice about this?”

“No more than I do.”

“You can’t stand up to the council?”

His gaze shifted away.

“That’s what I thought.” She sounded resigned.

He kissed her again and Vela leaned away, trying to give them some privacy but the chairs were smack dab together.

She focused on the film crews in three stations around the theater. When Endelle made mewling sounds, Vela concentrated on the beautiful mural of the Superstition Mountain monolith, with a starry night sky, that extended across the back of the stage. Apparently, Endelle had insisted that if she had to defer to those stick-up-their-butts that still called themselves European royalty in this modern age, then she wanted a mural of what she loved best about living in the desert.

When at last he pulled back, he apologized to Vela for being so rude.

To Endelle, he said, “I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.” He started to lift his arm, and as though just remembering, he narrowed his gaze at Endelle. “And you tell that asshole, Merl Tuttle, to stay away from you or by all Six dimensions, I’ll cut off his jewels and feed them down his throat.”  Then he lifted his arm and vanished.

Vela put a hand over her mouth. The imagery alone had left her shaken.

She glanced at Endelle who blinked a couple of times then met Vela’s gaze. “Well, that was a surprise.” But a soft smile curved her lips.

The conductor lifted his arms, baton in hand, and a full orchestra started playing Holtz’s ‘Mars’, a dynamic piece that reflected the extraordinary Warriors of the Blood.

All the What-Bees were present under one roof. Vela might have been worried about security, but Colonel Seriffe and his staff had the event well-in-hand and with Sharav dead and the Illinois Seers palace destroyed, Vela had confidence in the safety around her.

In addition, the women of obsidian flame, Fiona, Grace, and a very pregnant Marguerite, were on hand, ready to form their unusual triad of power. If any of the generals chose this night to attack, they’d be in for it.

At all five Phoenix Metro Borderlands, Gideon had everything under control, having assigned twelve squads at each site. Though he battled at Warrior of the Blood level, both Luken and Seriffe wanted him to serve as Second-in-Command of the Militia Warriors, especially since, for the past year the Thunder God Warriors had served at the Borderlands in increasing numbers. And Gideon had always indicated his preference to remain at Apache Junction HQ.

As the music swelled and one by one, the warriors took the stage, the audience began to applaud until once more everyone had gained their feet. Vela didn’t know which was louder: the applause or the music. Either way, chills ran up and down her arms and her heart filled with all the appreciation she felt for the sacrifices these men had made for centuries.

Kerrick led the way, with Alison on his arm.

Marcus followed with Havily.

Antony Medichi with Parisa.

Fiona, her pregnancy just announced, held tightly to Jean-Pierre’s arm.

Thorne formed the apex at the top of the stage of the original nine, his arm around Marguerite’s waist.

Leto came forward from the opposite side of the stage, Grace on his arm.

Luken after him, with Warrior Zacharius and finally, Santiago.

Wearing ceremonial black tunics, brass breastplates and capes with the right side flipped over the shoulder, the men looked like soldiers from ancient Rome. They wore a sleeker version of battle sandals, with silver moldings and tight shin-guards.

Vela put a hand to her stomach and forced herself to breathe. The level of sheer preternatural power on the stage rolled over her, sending electric shocks through her system. She worked hard to keep tears tumbling down her cheeks, but they fell anyway.

What critical roles each played in the ongoing fate of Second Earth, now even more so, given the existence of an operational darkening grid that crossed the boundaries from Third to Second. Braulio’s comment had only confirmed what Vela already knew.

Vela, can you hear me?

Samuel’s voice sounded sharp and crystal clear within her mind. Yes, what’s going on?

Vela smiled as she continued to applaud and occasionally stamp her feet as many of the appreciative guests were doing, despite the formality of the occasion.

I want you with me, on stage. Simple as that and you can’t say no. The other warriors have their brehs with them.

Vela gulped. But I don’t belong up there. I haven’t proven anything.

Fuck that. You saved Duncan’s life.

You did.

We both helped and all the other women are here with their men. You don’t get a choice on this one. I want you with me and once I’m on stage, I will refuse to take any of the oaths until you’re beside me.

The audience had started calling out something in a loud chant and it took Vela a few seconds to realize what they were saying. Even the orchestra had ceased playing because of it.

‘Samuel. Samuel,’ was being repeated over and over.

Do you hear that? They’re calling for you.

That can’t be. He sounded astonished.

This is for you alone, Samuel. This is your moment to be honored for your sacrifices and for your commitment to service. And you have to remember that Marcus sent out a thousand press releases, detailing your part in Duncan’s rescue and about your grayle, Third Earth power. Like it or not, you’re a celebrity.

A moment later, from the left side of the stage, Luken reappeared and waved at the crowd so that within a few seconds silence had fallen. But the energy among the spectators was as vibrant as ever so that the moment Luken said in a carrying voice, “I give you Samuel Daman, of Phoenix Two, our candidate for confirmation,” another round of applause swept the theater.

When Samuel didn’t appear, Luken frowned and cocked his head as though listening. He nodded, clearly communicating telepathically with Samuel in the wings.

Luken’s gaze then shifted to Vela and he held out his hand to her. All eyes shifted in her direction and the theater once more fell silent.

Heat crept up Vela’s cheeks, just as Samuel’s voice entered her head again. I’ve made a decision, my love. I’m not doing this without you. We’re a team.

Vela crumbled inside at his choice of words.

We’re a team, she sent back.

Because she knew Samuel so well, she understood the weight of these words, the depth of the meaning behind them. Samuel had gone it alone his entire life, now he was joining the Warriors of the Blood and he saw their relationship as a team effort.

Endelle leaned over to her and said, “What are you waiting for, ascender? You’ve been called. Now, go.”

Vela met Endelle’s wooded eyes and saw her compassion, the thing that always surprised her about Endelle, that beneath her outrageous exterior, and way beyond her profane mouth, resided a woman of tremendous compassion.

Vela drew a deep breath and to Samuel, sent, I’m ready.

Go to Luken now.

Luken addressed the crowd once more. “We have a slight change of plans. Candidate Samuel wishes his breh, Vela Stillwell to join him on stage. Please welcome Ascender Stillwell.”

One more fire-in-lungs breath and she simply levitated from her seat. Using a little added power, she kept her skirts of her gown fluttering close to her ankles as she moved swiftly to the stage, turning at the last moment to land beside Luken.

The tank-like warrior smiled down at her and winked. She returned his smile and felt herself relax a little, though her heart pounded in her chest.

The audience grew silent once more, expectant. Vela didn’t care that thousands of people stared at her. Most knew who she was because Marcus had built her up as well, including her unusual darkening ability, so that in a small way she had her own celebrity status.

A certain degree of notoriety had come to her because of her darkening power, because of Duncan’s rescue, and of course because of Samuel’s elevation in rank.

She was a target now, just like all the women bonded to Warriors of the Blood, but so be it. She had become a woman of power, something she’d never sought, but each day taught her more of what she possessed of strength and preternatural resources.

Applause resounded once more, this time for her. She inclined her chin a couple of times, but beyond that, she grew very still, and turned to glance once more at Madame Endelle, the compassionate scorpion of Second Earth. The woman smiled and nodded, her peacock and ostrich feathers waving along with her.

Suddenly, Endelle’s voice entered Vela’s mind. You did good, ascender. You did good.

Warmth spilled through Vela’s heart. She marveled at all that had happened to bring her here, how hard she’d resisted her course, and how much she’d changed in just a handful of days. She valued Endelle’s approval, the woman who had laid down her life for nine millennia, also with great resistance and unwillingness, but who had done it just the same.

She dipped her chin to Endelle, who dipped hers right back.

Vela smiled once more

Luken’s beautiful, resonant voice, addressed the audience one more. “Please join me in acknowledging the service of our candidate with warm applause as Warrior Samuel joins us.”

The moment Samuel appeared from the shadows of the curtains, applause thundered through the ornate theater once more. He paused for a moment to acknowledge the appreciation that flowed toward him, for his service as a Militia Warrior and probably more for having endured a decade of imprisonment and torture by a Third entity. He offered a short, slow bow. The applause rose to a peak with this gesture, then settled back down to mere thunder once more.

Samuel pivoted in Vela’s direction. Her own hands ached now from slamming them together with such force, but she didn’t care. Tears brimmed in her eyes as he came toward her. But he didn’t just take her arm, he took her in a warm embrace and to her mind sent, Oh, my darling Vela, how you saved me.

Vela’s tears fell and more followed. You did the same for me.

He held her for a long moment. When he finally released her, he took her arm, but kept her pinned to his side as he went through his induction.

The ceremony that followed became a blur of speeches made by Luken and Marcus, of ritual responses given by all the warriors that sent a profound and beautiful array of deep masculine voices into the theater, of oaths to serve Second Earth with all his might for the rest of his years as a Warrior of the Blood.

The ceremony concluded when Luken presented a new sword to Samuel, one that he took firmly by the grip. Holding it for a few long seconds, as the audience watched in silence, he forged the deadly identification signature.

Once complete, he held the sword aloft and another cheer resounded through the theater.

* * * * * * ***

Two days after the confirmation, Samuel held Vela’s hand and strolled beside her along a row of Scottsdale Two shops. One of them had caught Vela’s eye and she perused the window display, head bent, eyes wide and seeking.

The door opened, a customer came out, and a familiar scent wafted beneath his nose arousing things that shouldn’t be aroused in a public arena.

What the fuck?

He glanced through the door and saw that the place sold, among other things, scented candles. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“You’re going inside?” Vela turned to him, blue eyes wide and hopeful.

He smiled. “Yes, but let me do this alone. There’s something I want to see about.” He knew she would want to come with him; her eyes had that let’s-spend-some-money glint.

But she nodded and he went straight to the candles. It took him a bare split-second to locate the one that came damn close to Vela’s scent. He lifted the lid of a candle in a jar and sniffed.

He barely repressed a groan.

He glanced at the label and smiled. He even chuckled. But sniffing again, his pants shrunk. He liked this scent too damn much.

Putting the round glass lid back on the jar, he tucked it beneath one arm, them gathered up a bunch of small candles, called tea-lights or something. The latter appeared to require individual glass holders so he grabbed a bunch of those, too. He took deep breaths and named the planets starting nearest the sun to try to calm down.

By the time he’d paid for his purchases and made it outside, he held the bag up to Vela and said, “We have to go home. Now. Sorry.”

She smiled, then sent, I guess we do because I can feel how your zipper is pressing into something that shouldn’t be that big at least not out here in front of God and everybody. That, and you smell like a chocolate bar, which I’m dying to take a bite out of.

He growled softly, took hold of her arm, and folded her straight to his bedroom.

She laughed as she sat down on the side of the bed. “Okay, warrior, what’s going on? And what on earth did you buy that got you so worked up?”

Damnit, he was a Warrior of the Blood, and buying candles in a woman’s shop, just felt wrong. He handed her the bag and said, “Here. This is for you, or maybe for me. Maybe for both of us. Hell, I don’t know. Just take a look.”

“Uh, thank you? And…why do you look so mad?”

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the bag several times. “It’s just so damn girlie.”

She opened it and pulled out the box of tea-lights. She sniffed, showed mild pleasure with a lift of her brows, then read the label. “Oh, sweet-peas. I know this flower. Everyone grew them on trellises when I was a kid.”

She then lifted her gaze to him.

He let her work it out, which made her laugh. “This is my scent. I smell like sweet-peas?”

“Yes. You do.” But he wouldn’t say anything more. He wouldn’t say, You smell like sweet-peas, sweetheart. It was too fucking much.

“Well, then,” she said, her scent rising to compete with his purchases. “We’ll have to do something about these candles.” He watched as she drew everything out of the bag. She opened the glass jar and set it on the night stand. She did the same for the tea-lights and the glass holders, placing them around the room.

Folding a lighter into her hand from the kitchen, she lit every single candle, then turned to him and started unbuttoning her blouse. Standing across the room, by the window, and in full daylight, she started stripping for him, slowly as the candles combined with her scent and flooded the room.

But by the time she’d reached the last button, he’d grown into a desperate state. He panted and his shoulders hunched. He felt his grayle power itching to release. He folded his shirt off and let the smoky mist rise around him.

Her lips parted and she gasped. “I think this is taking too long.”

She waved her hand and poof, clothes gone. He growled and came at her fast, turning her toward the bed, plowing her backwards, and as he got her flat, he made his way inside her beautiful wetness.

That she laughed, cooed, and whimpered told him she didn’t mind, not even a little. He made love to her briskly, barely two minutes of wild touching and pushing, before she arched beneath him, crying out, his body releasing into her in electric pulses of ecstasy.

They were definitely on their breh-moon.

She held him fast, her arms encircling his neck as she kissed him on his cheek, his forehead, his lips.

He spoke words of love and lust and heat and all that they were together.

He took her again, slower this time, bringing her to climax repeatedly until at last he spooned her and slept away the last of the afternoon.

He woke up as the sun sank low on the horizon, Vela and the beautiful mass of her hair, cradled against his chest. The peace he knew astounded him, the completeness, a sense of destiny fulfilled.

When she moved and looked up at him, he smiled and kissed her. “Looks like a beautiful sunset.”

“Show me.”

He rose up from the bed and wrapped her in one of the sheets, laughing the whole time. He took her onto the balcony, and she leaned against his chest sighing contentedly.

Holding his woman in his arms was probably the best sensation he’d ever known. “I love you,” he whispered.

She sighed again. “I love you, too. Now and forever.”

Now and forever.

The desert, with all that dry earth, wind, and dust, made beautiful sunsets full of rich yellow, orange, and lavender hues, one of the beauties of the expansive Sonoran desert.

And he shared it now with Vela, his woman, his breh.

He marveled at life, at all the wealth that had come to him in just a few short weeks, of loving Vela, of knowing her deeply and intimately, of having her love him in return, and of starting this new life with her as a goddamn righteous Warrior of the Blood.

ASCENSION TERMINOLOGY

AAF pr. n. Allied Ascender Forces, Endelle’s army.

ALA pr. n. Ascenders Liberation Army, the name Greaves assigned to his army.

ascender n. A mortal human of Earth who has moved permanently to the second dimension.

ascension n. The act of moving permanently from one dimension to a higher dimension.

ascendiate n. A mortal human who has answered the call to ascension and thereby commences his or her rite of ascension.

call of ascension n. A period of time, usually involving several weeks, in which the mortal human has experienced some or all of, but not limited to, the following: specific dreams about the next dimension, deep yearnings and longings of a soulful and inexplicable nature, visions of and possibly visits to any of the dimensional Borderlands, etc. See Borderlands.

ascension ceremony n. Upon the completion of the rite of ascension, the mortal undergoes a ceremony in which loyalty to the laws of Second Society are professed and the attributes of the vampire mantel along with immortality are bestowed.

answering the call to ascension n. The mortal human who experiences the hallmarks of the call to ascension, will at some point feel compelled to answer the call to ascension usually by demonstrating significant preternatural power.

call of ascension n. A period of time, usually involving several weeks, in which the mortal human has experienced some or all of, but not limited to, the following: specific dreams about the next dimension, deep yearnings and longings of a soulful and inexplicable nature, visions of and possibly visits to any of the dimensional Borderlands, etc. See Borderlands.

rite of ascension n. A three-day period during which time an ascendiate contemplates ascending to the next highest dimension.

the Borderlands pr. n. Those geographic areas that form dimensional borders at both ends of a dimensional pathway. The dimensional pathway is an access point through which travel can take place from one dimension to the next. See Trough.

breh-hedden n. (Term from an ancient language.) A mate-bonding ritual that can only be experienced by the most powerful warriors and the most powerful preternaturally gifted women. Effects of the breh-hedden can include but are not limited to: specific scent experience, extreme physical/sexual attraction, loss of rational thought, primal sexual drives, inexplicable need to bond, powerful need to experience deep mind-engagement, etc.

cadroen n. (Term from an ancient language.) The name for the hair clasp that holds back the ritual long hair of a Warrior of the Blood.

catch skin vb. When a blade draws blood.

Central pr.n. The office of the current administration that tracks movement of death vampires in both the second dimension and on Mortal Earth for the purpose of alerting the Warriors of the Blood and the Militia Warriors to illegal activities.

Command Center pr. n. Headquarters for the Allied Ascender Forces, currently at Endelle’s Palace, Thorne’s base of operations.

the darkening n. An area of nether-space that can be found during meditations and/or with strong preternatural darkening capabilities. Such abilities enable the ascender to move into nether-space and remain there or to use nether-space in order to be two places at once.

the darkening grid n. A grid built centuries ago, by powerful Third Earth entities, that spans Second and Third Earth for the purpose of travel, transport, and access to Second Earth. The crossing of the dimensional boundary that allows access to a Lower Dimension, makes the grid highly illegal in the multiple-dimension arena.

darkening grid monitor n. A Third Earth specialist who tracks movement on the inter-dimensional darkening grid.

death vampire n. Any vampire, male or female, who partakes of dying blood automatically becomes a death vampire. Death vampires can have, but are not limited to, the following characteristics: remarkably increased physical strength, an increasingly porcelain complexion true of all ethnicities so that death vampires have a long-term reputation of looking very similar, a faint bluing of the porcelain complexion, increasing beauty of face, the ability to enthrall, the blackening of wings over a period of time. Though death vampires are not gender-specific, most are male. See vampire.

dimensional worlds n. Eleven thousand years ago, the first ascender, Luchianne, made the difficult transition from Mortal Earth to what became known as Second Earth. In the early millennia four more dimensions were discovered, Luchianne always leading the way. Each dimension’s ascenders exhibited expanding preternatural power before ascension. Upper dimensions are generally closed off to the dimension or dimensions below. See off-dimension

duhuro n. (Term from an ancient language.) A word of respect which in the old language combines the spiritual offices of both servant and master. To call someone duhuro is to offer a profound compliment suggesting great worth.

dying blood n. Blood extracted from a mortal or an ascender at the point of death. This blood is highly addictive in nature. There is no known treatment for anyone who partakes of dying blood. The results of ingesting dying blood include, but are not limited to: increased physical, mental, or preternatural power, a sense of extreme euphoria, a deep sense of well-being, a sense of omnipotence and fearlessness, the taking in of the preternatural powers of the host body, etc. If dying blood is not taken on a regular basis, extreme abdominal cramps result without ceasing. Note: currently there is an antidote not for the addiction of dying blood itself but for the various results of ingesting dying blood. This means that a death vampire who drinks dying blood then partakes of the antidote will not show the usual physical side effects of ingesting dying blood; no whitening or faint bluing of the skin, no beautifying of features, no blackening of the wings, etc.

effetne n. (Term from an ancient language.) An expression, an intense form of supplication to the gods, an abasement of self, and of self-will.

folding v. Slang for dematerialization, since some believe that one does not actually dematerialize self or objects but rather one ‘folds space’ to move self or objects from one place to another. There is much scientific debate on this subject since at present neither theory can be proved.

grayle n. (Term from an ancient language.) The name for a misty power that only Third Ascenders possess. This power has two facets: a potent stream capable of taking life and a battling form that increases folding speed, levitation capacity, and physical power. Grayle is most often found among warriors.

grid n. The technology used by Central that allows for the tracking of death vampires primarily at the Borderlands on both Mortal Earth and Second Earth. Death vampires by nature carry a strong, trackable signal, unlike normal vampires. See Central.

Guardian of Ascension pr. n. A prestigious title and rank at present given only to those Warriors of the Blood who also serve to guard powerful ascendiates during their rite of ascension. In millennia past Guardians of Ascension were also those powerful ascenders who offered themselves in unique and powerful service to Second Society.

High Administrator pr. n. The designation given to a leader of a Second Earth Territory.

identified sword n. A sword made by Second Earth metallurgy that has the preternatural capacity to become identified to a single ascender. The identification process involves holding the sword by the grip for several continuous seconds. The identification of a sword to a single ascender means that only that person can touch or hold the sword. If anyone else tries to take possession of the sword, other than the owner, that person will die.

Militia Warrior pr. n. One of hundreds of thousands of warriors who serve Second Earth society as a policing force for the usual civic crimes and as a battling force, in squads only, to fight against the continual depredations of death vampires on both Mortal Earth and Second Earth.

millennial adjustment n. The phenomenon of time taking on a more fluid aspect with the passing of centuries.

mind-engagement n. The ability to penetrate another mind and experience the thoughts and memories of the other person. The ability to receive another mind and allow that person to experience one’s thoughts and memories. These abilities must be present in order to complete the breh-hedden.

mist n. A preternatural creation designed to confuse the mind and thereby hide things or people. Most mortals and ascenders are unable to see mist. The powerful ascender, however is capable of seeing mist, which usually appears like an intricate mesh, or a cloud, or a web-like covering.

Mortal Earth pr. n The name for First Earth or the current modern world known simply as earth.

nether-space n. The unknowable, unmappable regions of space. The space between dimensions is considered nether-space as well as the space found in the darkening.

off-dimension n. An expression referring to an ascender not being on his or her prime resident plant, e.g., an ascender from Second Earth who goes rogue and lives on Mortal Earth would be considered off-dimension.

pretty-boy n. Slang for death vampire, since most death vampires are male.

preternatural voyeurism n. The ability to ‘open a window’ with the power of the mind in order to see people and events happening elsewhere in real time. Two of the limits of preternatural voyeurism are: the voyeur must usually know the person or place and if the voyeur is engaged in darkening work, it is very difficult to make use of preternatural voyeurism at the same time.

royle n. (Term from an ancient language.) The literal translation is: a benevolent wind. More loosely translated, royle refers to the specific quality of having the capacity to create a state of benevolence, of good-will, within an entire people or culture. See royle adj.

royle adj. (Term from an ancient language.) This term is generally used to describe a specific coloration of wings: cream with three narrow bands at the outer tips of the wings when in full-span. The bands are always burnished gold, amethyst, and black. Because Luchianne, the first ascender and first vampire, had this coloration on her wings, anyone, therefore, whose wings matched Luchianne’s was said to have royle wings. Having royle wings was considered a tremendous gift, holding great promise for the world.

Seer pr. n. An ascender gifted with the preternatural ability to ride the future streams and report on future events.

Seers Fortress pr. n.
Seers have traditionally been gathered into compounds designed to provide a highly peaceful environment, thereby enhancing the Seer’s ability to ride the future streams. The information gathered at a Seers Fortress benefits the local High Administrator. Some believe that the term fortress emerged as a protest to the prison-like conditions the Seers often have to endure.

spectacle n. The name given to events of gigantic proportion that include but are not limited to: trained squadrons of DNA altered geese, swans and ducks, ascenders with the specialized and dangerous skills of flight performance, intricate and often massive light and fireworks displays, as well as various forms of music.

Supreme High Administrator pr. n. The ruler of Second Earth. See High Administrator.

Territory pr. n. For the purpose of governance, Second Earth is divided up into groups of countries called Territories. Because the total population of Second Earth is only one percent of Mortal Earth, Territories were established as a simpler means of administering Second Society law. See High Administrator.

Trough pr. n. A slang term for a dimensional pathway. See Borderlands.

Twoling pr. n. Anyone born on Second Earth is a Twoling.

vampire n. The natural state of the ascended human. Every ascender is a vampire. The qualities of being a vampire include but are not limited to: immortality, the use of fangs to take blood, the use of fangs to release potent chemicals, increased physical power, increased preternatural ability, etc. Luchianne created the word vampire upon her ascension to Second Earth to identify in one word the totality of the changes she experienced upon that ascension. From the first, the taking of blood was viewed as an act of reverence and bonding, not as a means of death. The Mortal Earth myths surrounding the word vampire for the most part personify the Second Earth death vampire. See death vampire.

Warriors of the Blood pr. n. An elite fighting unit of usually seven powerful warriors, each with phenomenal preternatural ability and capable of battling several death vampires at any one time.

What-Bee pr. n. Slang for Warrior of the Blood, as in WOTB.

wings n. All ascenders eventually produce wings from wing-locks. Wing-lock is the term used to describe the apertures on the ascender’s back from which the feathers and attending mesh-like superstructure emerge. Mounting wings involves a hormonal rush that some liken to sexual release. Flight is one of the finest experiences of ascended life. Wings can be held in a variety of positions including but not limited to: full-mount, close mount, aggressive mount, etc. Wings emerge over a period of time from one year to several hundred years. Wings can, but do not always, begin small in one decade then grow larger in later decades.

wrecker n. A warrior who serves to patrol the Third Earth darkening grid and destroy specific targets. Wreckers use identified, short-barrel shot-guns, with explosive cartridges, to bust through the darkening grid walls. Breaking up the grid walls shortens any distance through the grid. Grid monitors direct their paths.

y pro nai-y-stae n. (Term from an ancient language.) The loose translation is, you may stay for an eternity.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caris Roane is the award-winning author of six published novels for St. Martin’s Press and almost fifty published novels and novellas writing Regency Romance as Valerie King.

The third installment of the Dawn of Ascension Novella Series, RAPTURE’S EDGE, releases in the spring of 2013.

For more information about all things Caris Roane, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website at:

www.CarisRoane.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

ASCENSION TERMINOLOGY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR