Twilight's Possession - Burning Hunger Part 14

"You won't get it until she's released."

"Then we can kill her." The warrior pushed the dagger's tip deeper into Brea's neck. Another crimson droplet formed at the wound. Brea gasped but she didn't speak, didn't beg, didn't cry. "Once she's dead, her blood-mates will die. Then we will have the Triad."

Dayne lifted his hand higher and lunged forward.

Now!

Time slowed to a tenth its normal speed as Marek threw himself forward, knocking Brea to the ground. He leapt to his feet and, spinning, kicked the Triad out of Dayne's hand. It flew about twenty feet and landed with a heavy crunch on the pavement.

There was a moment of shocked silence before Dayne and the two warriors dashed for the fallen relic. Marek turned to Brea and helped her back to her feet.

"Are you okay?" He gave her a quick up-and-down as she staggered to her feet.

"I think so." Grimacing, Brea rubbed her backside. "Those were chicks. Women bad-guys. Did you know that? b.i.t.c.hes!"

"Yeah." Marek swallowed a chuckle at Brea's expression. "We found out inside."

"You wouldn't believe how much I wanted to kick their a.s.ses. But they took my knife. I'm glad you didn't give them the Triad. They were going to kill us all anyway." A strand of hair fluttered across her face, carried by the breeze.

He gently tucked it behind her ear and pulled her trembling body against his for warmth and support. "I figured as much. Let's get you back to the car. You're looking a little shaky."

"I'm fine...okay, not really," she admitted, tucking herself under his arm. "I've spent the past nine years hiding from danger and the last few days facing more risks than Indiana Jones."

"It's destroyed," Dayne said, running up to them. He handed the broken pieces to Brea then they both looked at Marek.

Brea was the one to ask what they all three wanted to know, "What's this mean for your brother?"

Marek pulled open the pa.s.senger side door for her. "I guess I'll find out soon. If the G.o.ds are with us, the curse will be broken. If not..."

Chapter Eleven.

"You destroyed the Triad?" Kaden said by way of a greeting.

Marek's mood darkened instantly, all traces of hope completely obliterated. Eyes burning, heart heavy, he dropped to his knee, setting the relic's fractured pieces on the floor. "We had no choice. I'm sorry we failed you. I failed you. After everything you've been through lately, Lena's death...if I could take your place and suffer the curse myself, I would."

"I know." His brother pushed himself up from his chair, the strain of his exertion etched into his features. The curse had progressed quickly. His body was visibly frail, withered like The Keeper's. "You did well, my brother. As well as I could hope." Kaden reached a hand down. "Stand."

Marek refused to accept his brother's aid as he stood. He was, after all, well and strong. His brother was dying. Who should be helping whom?

Kaden swept him into a tight embrace and smacked him on the back heartily. "I owe you my life, baby brother. And you," he said, releasing Marek and pulling a stiff-limbed Dayne into an equally enthusiastic hug, "I owe you even more."

"Your life?" Marek asked, bewildered. "What does this mean?"

"I-I-" Dayne stuttered as Kaden released him to turn toward the wall behind his throne.

Kaden patted Marek's cheek as he shuffled past him, scooping up the shattered relic. "It means, little brother, that the curse can still be lifted. I will recover. You made the right choice." To Dayne, he said, "I asked Marek if he would agree to the blood-bond with you, Dayne, both of us knowing what you felt about our family. You have some powerful allies among the Rebellion. I didn't expect you to turn your back on them. I'd only hoped you might come to believe that your family's tragic death had not been ordered by this crown."

"I...don't really know yet what happened. I only learned what price some pay for revenge and felt it was too great."

Kaden gripped the curved armrest of his throne in one hand. "Every man makes his decisions by his own heart and mind. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful to you for your help. Perhaps someday, the mystery of your family's death will be solved."

"I hope so."

The groan of rusted hinges accompanied the sight of a hidden door swinging open behind the throne.

"We are both searching for answers, you and me. Perhaps we'll find them together?" Turning, Kaden lifted his hand to indicate they should follow him through the opening. "I have something for both of you. You must accept my apologies though. There will be no pageantry, no ceremony. Just the three of us. But I have good reason for keeping this a secret." He turned, a pair of identical swords in his fists. He handed one to Dayne, the second to Marek. Then he nodded and planted his hands on his hips. "Congratulations, men. You are the first two Cytherean Guards, an elite team of men. Chosen by me. And for a very special purpose." He set the Triad on the floor, at the center of an intricate triangular design in the floor's tilework. "At the center of our world is the sacred number-three. Just as it takes three-two of our kind and one human-to renew our lives, it takes three to mend the Triad." Dropping to his knee, he placed his palm over the relic's pieces and indicated with a nod that Marek and Dayne should do the same. The moment they had positioned their hands over top of Kaden's, a jolt of power blasted through their bodies. Bolts of electricity shot from their fingertips, the energy gathering into a ball of cracking, snapping brilliance in the air, like a miniature star. Humming, it hovered over their stacked hands for several seconds before dropping to the floor and consuming the Triad.

The white flame extinguished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving a fully restored Triad smoking on the floor. Kaden cleared his throat, lifted the Triad and stood. "The Rebellion is far from over. Dark times are ahead. As Cytherean Guards, it is now your duty to protect the secrets of the Sons of the Twilight."

Marek stared down at his fist, still tingling from the powerful magic, his fingers curled around the sword's hilt. "Then you've learned what the Rebellion's plans are for the future?"

"No, I've lost my most reliable source of intelligence, my future bride."

Dayne's startled gasp echoed in the small s.p.a.ce. "Then you knew she was-"

"The clues?" Marek interrupted. "That's why you were so sure they were for real."

"Yes, the clues came from Lena." Kaden shrugged. "And I knew she was with the Rebellion. I had my reasons for sleeping with the enemy."

"d.a.m.n, I'm sorry." Dayne murmured.

Kaden gave both Marek and Dayne an empty smile. "Nothing for you to be sorry for. Being king is both an honor and an obligation. I had to make some hard decisions. But they were mine to make. Not yours."

Brea paced the living room. Could there be any worse punishment? What had she done to deserve such treatment? Marek had insisted she could not go with them to check on his brother. He'd never given her a reasonable excuse. Yet she hadn't felt right arguing with him. Everyone faced pain in their own way.

Including her.

Truth was, she needed the time to herself. She needed to figure some stuff out. Some important stuff. Not exactly life-or-death but pretty d.a.m.n close to it.

The three of them had completed the final night of the blood-bond. Her Chippendales had done things to and with her that she never in a million years would have dreamed of trying. And then they'd held her tenderly. She'd fallen asleep nestled between their hulking bodies, warm and satisfied and content.

Her contentment was short-lived, however. Just before her Chippendales had left, Marek had told her she was free to leave, to stay, whatever she wanted to do-at sunrise.

The Triad was history, destroyed, worthless. So she didn't need to stick around for that anymore.

She could go home. Soon. Within a few hours.

She knew she should be glad to leave. This had always been a temporary situation, even though Marek had confessed his love for her. And even if she secretly loved both him and Dayne back.

It wasn't like the emotions were genuine. They were the byproduct of some bizarre hormonal state, driven by physical changes in her body. Once she was out of range of her Chippendales' pheromones, she'd realize she didn't really love them...right?

And what about the woman in the picture? Who was she? And where was she?

Her insides ached like they'd been yanked out, run over by a Hummer and then crammed back inside the empty sh.e.l.l of her body. This hunger as they called it sucked big time. It hurt worse than any heartache she'd ever suffered through.

Even though she was miserable beyond words, her heart did a happy little hop in her chest when she heard the guys' voices at the front door. They were home.

It was time to say goodbye.

Ack.

She pulled in not one but two deep breaths, scooped up her purse as well as Dayne's Lions s.h.i.+rt-and headed toward them.

Marek was the first one to speak, "I see you're ready to go."

"Yes," she said, trying not to sigh. "I-I'm ready."

Dayne stepped forward, his piercing eyes drilling into hers. "This is harder than I thought it would be." His statement echoed her own thoughts.

"I figure it'll get easier when I'm farther away."

"Why's that?" Marek, standing behind her, snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She felt the rigid length of his c.o.c.k, hot and hard against her derriere. Unwanted desire pulsed through her body.

She stiffened, unwilling to allow the baser needs of her body to dictate her actions any longer. This was an unnatural response. She didn't really love these men like she thought. Like she wanted to. Her mind and body were tricking her.

"Why's what?" she asked, concentrating on not rubbing against him like a cat in heat. It was so tempting. Her back was already arching, lifting her bottom up.

"Why will it be easier when you're farther away?" he whispered.

Dayne knelt in front of her and ran his hands down her legs. He gripped her ankles, using pressure to force her to widen her stance. "We want you to be happy, Brea. More than anything, that's all that matters."

She dropped her head back, letting it rest against Marek's chest. "Then stop. Please. Don't put me through this any longer. It's not real. Your feelings. My feelings."

Marek's fingers slid under her top and mapped her rib cage. Teasing. Tormenting. "What makes you believe that?"

"What you said earlier. About the hunger," she murmured, already losing her ability to think.

"Ah. The hunger." Dayne's hands smoothed up her blue-jeans-clad legs to cup the heated juncture of her thighs. He applied delightful pressure to her throbbing parts. "We just learned the hunger ends at sunrise."

"It does?" Her heart started thumping heavily in her chest.

"Did," Marek corrected.

"What time is it?"

Dayne moved aside, letting Marek guide her toward the heavily draped living-room window. "Come and see."

Brea pulled one side of the curtain up to peer outside.

"Whatever emotions you feel now," Marek said, back-stepping away from the light spilling into the room, "are yours. They aren't the effect of any kind of chemical reaction or unnatural urge. Not anymore."

"And what we feel is just as genuine," Dayne added.

Tears gathering in her eyes, Brea let the drapery fall back over the window and turned to her Chippendales. "Then I..." The words sat in her chest, refusing to come out.

Here she'd spent the last couple of days taking the kind of risks she'd spent years avoiding. She'd basically closed herself out of life, denied herself all the joys and pain that made life worth living.

No more. She wouldn't hide any longer. Life was a wonderful gift and it was meant to be lumpy and sometimes painful. Those rough parts made the good ones all the sweeter.

It had taken a couple of undead Chippendales and the Friday the thirteenth from h.e.l.l to help her learn how to live again.

How ironic.

The words she'd started to speak slipped easily through her lips now. "I'm falling in love with you. But what about the woman in the picture?" she asked Dayne.

"Picture?" He looked quizzically toward the stairs then smiled. "Oh, that picture." She found herself in the middle of a Chippendale sandwich. "She doesn't hold a candle to you, Brea. Besides, there's something very unnatural about mating with my cousin."

"Cousin?" she repeated, a giggle bubbling up from her stomach. "So does this mean you wouldn't mind making this a permanent arrangement?"

"Nothing would make us happier," her Chippendales said in unison.

"Terrific. I'll move in tomorrow. But I have a couple conditions."

Her Chippendales slanted wary looks her way.

"First, I have to park my car in the garage. It was my father's, you know. And second, you both must sit down and watch National Treasure with me. Tonight. Just in case we end up in another treasure hunt in the future."

Her Chippendales exchanged guilty looks and nervous chuckles.

And here she'd thought she'd been joking about the treasure hunt thing. "Wwwwwhat?"

They proceeded to erase every worry from her mind, doing what they did so well-using and abusing her, in the most wonderful way.

The End

About the Author.

Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor's life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip-a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide-or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn't travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She's not even built like a runway model. She's just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife.

That's why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn't need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some...zip.