Possessed by a Dark Warrior (8 page)

To his doom, probably.

This was not going to go well.

He approached the low wall enclosing the garden and cottage, his steps silent on the road. A bird sang in the distance, the beautiful song offering him comfort as his heart pounded hard against his breast. He reached his senses out, digging them deep into the nature that surrounded him, drawing strength from it as all elves did.

His hand shook as he reached for the low wooden gate and he tensed to steady it, a brief flex of muscle that did the trick. He pushed the bleached arched gate open and strode down the path, the hem of the long black coat he wore over his armour swirling around his ankles.

A soft female voice rang out from the rear of the cottage and Bleu diverted course, following the narrow golden gravel path that cut through lavender and rosemary bushes and curved towards the right side of the house.

He rounded the building and spotted Rosalind hanging washing on a line supported between two apple trees, her long black dress reaching her knees and a grim contrast against her wavy ash blonde hair. The breeze blew again and she muttered a ripe curse not suited to her delicate appearance as she wrestled with her hair, tugging it out of her face.

“Hand me those pegs.” She pointed to a small bag hanging at the end of the line furthest from Bleu.

“Rosalind,” Bleu said.

Her head snapped around, blue eyes enormous and rosy lips parted.

An unholy snarl sounded and then Vail was right in front of him, standing between him and Rosalind, his skin-tight armour in place and fangs enormous as he flashed them at Bleu. He backed towards his mate, his right hand stretched behind him, snarling the whole time. He reached Rosalind and caught hold of her waist, his black clawed fingers blending into her dress as he guided her behind him.

“Leave… keep away from my ki’ara. She is
mine
,” Vail snarled in the elf tongue, his tone as black as midnight in the demon realms. His ears grew pointier, flaring back against the wild strands of his blue-black hair, and every instinct Bleu possessed fired in response to the threat.

It took all of his will to stop himself from hissing back at the wretched male.

It was only Rosalind’s soft apologetic look when she leaned to one side, peering past her mate, that stopped him.

“I am not interested in your mate,” Bleu muttered in his native language. “What is it with you and Loren and your females?”

A frown flickered on Vail’s face at the mention of his brother, and then his eyes darkened dangerously, black encroaching to swallow the violet.

Bleu held his ground, body vibrating with awareness of what was about to happen. He had seen that look in Vail’s eyes enough times to know to brace himself and prepare for a fight.

Rosalind gently laid her hand on Vail’s right shoulder and Bleu couldn’t believe his eyes as the vicious male transformed before them, that delicate hand taming the beast. The dark hunger for violence disappeared from Vail’s eyes in an instant, becoming a soft but pleading look as he turned them on his mate. She stepped up beside him, her left hand still on his shoulder, and stroked his arm with her right, all the way down to the sharp tips of his claws.

Vail’s gaze followed the path of her fingers and his shoulders relaxed as she worked whatever magic she was casting on him.

Not magic involving spells and potions. Nature’s magic. A magic he didn’t want to think about because it was already souring his mood, and that had been rather sour to begin with.

Love.

It was there in that touch, in that stupid soft look on Vail’s face, and the smile on Rosalind’s lips.

Bleu wanted to retch.

He cleared his throat instead, gaining a far more palatable snarl and black look from Vail.

Rosalind petted Vail’s hand. “Let him speak. He’s here for our help.”

Vail turned that scowl on his mate. “He is not to be trusted. You vowed he would never come here.”

She had? That stung. Bleu had thought them something akin to acquaintances, if not close to friends, after everything they had been through.

The darkness in Vail’s eyes shifted again, lightening as his eyebrows furrowed and he stooped to catch Rosalind’s hand. He brought it up to his armoured chest and stared down into her eyes, his violet ones pleading. As mercurial as ever. Vail’s mood always had been dangerously unpredictable.

“He is dangerous. Make him go away. He will seek to harm me through you and I cannot bear it.”

Now Bleu was just offended. “I will not… and besides, I knew Rosalind first.”

Vail hissed at him, his eyes almost jet black and pointed ears flattening against the sides of his head.

The elf male released Rosalind’s hand and turned on him, the black slashes of his eyebrows dropping so low that his eyes were nothing more than slits as he glared at Bleu.

“What do you mean?” Vail bit out and then snapped back to Rosalind, his eyes wild and filled with hurt. “Did you lie? Did the foul creature truly admire you in the Third Realm… did he desire you? Did you—”

Rosalind pressed a finger to his lips. “Nothing happened between us. I only said those things to make you jealous so I would know your feelings for me.”

Bleu arched his left eyebrow at that, and being termed a ‘foul creature’. It seemed Vail’s opinion of him was as low as Bleu’s opinion of Vail. And what the hell had Rosalind been thinking using him as a method of making Vail jealous? No wonder the male hated him and didn’t trust him.

“I love you, and only you,” Rosalind whispered, her head tipped back and blue eyes fixed on her mate’s violet ones.

Vail’s expression softened but it didn’t last long. Storm clouds descended again, darker than ever as he slid his gaze towards Bleu.

“I still desire the male to leave.” His eyes dropped back to Rosalind and emotions danced across his face as his eyebrows furrowed. “I do not wish to be reminded of the things I have done… not today… please?”

Rosalind offered her mate a sympathetic smile and opened her arms to him. Vail stepped into them, stooped and clasped her to him as he buried his face in her fall of golden hair. She held him, cupping the back of his neck, stroking the shorter lengths of his blue-black hair. When she blinked, her eyes darted from the trees behind Vail straight to Bleu, and starlight flickered in their blue depths as they darkened, the sense of power he felt flowing from her growing stronger.

Bleu shifted back a step and that was when it hit him.

The reason why Vail was troubled today, more so than usual.

His stomach dropped to his feet, the space in his chest going cold as he cursed himself for not realising it earlier. He could have avoided disturbing Vail, upsetting him, if he had chosen any day other than today to visit him.

Any day other than the anniversary of the one on which, all those thousands of years ago, Vail had fallen under Kordula’s spell and attacked his own men, slaughtering most of his legion. A battle Bleu had barely escaped with his life.

Rosalind murmured softly to Vail and his fingers tightened against her waist, black claws pressing in to clutch her, as if she was the only anchor in the storm of the emotions battering him. Bleu could sense the turmoil and pain in him, hurt that he had caused.

He backed off another step, an apology balanced on his lips, but then he remembered why he had come. He couldn’t leave without asking for their help. The fate of thousands, no, millions of lives depended on him now.

And on Vail.

He looked at the male, feeling deep in his gut and his heart that this was Vail’s chance, his shot at taking a giant leap towards redeeming himself. The elf had taken thousands of lives over the last forty-two centuries, but he could save millions in the next few minutes.

“I didn’t know,” Bleu said. “I am not here because of that. I am here because I require your help… I need to find the sword.”

Confusion crinkled Rosalind’s fair eyebrows.

Her mate instantly lifted his head, turning sharp violet eyes on Bleu. “The sword?”

Bleu nodded. While his mate didn’t know what they were talking about, Vail knew exactly what sword he was looking for and was aware of what had happened to it seven centuries ago, and the determination steadily growing in his eyes said that he was willing to help.

Vail opened his mouth to speak.

The air off to his left shimmered and another elf appeared on bended knee, breathing hard, black stilted ribbons like smoke twisting around him.

Bleu stilled right down to his breathing, tensing in perfect unison with Vail, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Fuery.

The tainted elf raised his head, black eyes locking on Vail’s face for a split second before they dropped to his boots and he bent his head lower. The tangled strands of his shoulder-length black hair swept forwards to conceal his face, but Bleu could feel the agony as it rolled off him. His bare fingers dug into the earth, bunching the grass into shaking fists.

Bleu couldn’t take his eyes off the male as he was hurled through time. A night barely a few months ago rose around him, reconstructing itself as if he truly had leaped through time. He saw Fuery standing across from him in Kyter’s nightclub, a black and terrible shadow in the dimly lit expansive room, his eyes filled with darkness and lust for bloodshed, claws itching to destroy and take the lives of all he viewed as an enemy.

A shadow of the noble male Bleu had known as a youth.

That Fuery whirled back in time with him, to a battlefield where he loomed over him, his hand outstretched. Bleu saw himself take it, swore he felt the breeze as he was pulled onto his feet, and saw Fuery’s lips move in silent words that he felt warming his soul and boosting his courage before the elf turned away from him. He raised his black blade, his head held high, violet eyes bright and focused on the enemy as he commanded the legion to move forwards. Bleu could only stare as he kicked off and swept through the enemy, cutting them down with ease and leading the charge.

A male Bleu had adored, admired and aspired to be, and had mourned, grieved for while flooded with pain so fierce it had felt as if his soul had been tearing apart.

The present Fuery moved, causing the past to swirl into a maelstrom of colourful smoke and dissipate.

“Commander Fuery,” Bleu whispered, lost all over again, as rattled by his presence as he had been back in Kyter’s nightclub.

He had lived four thousand years believing him dead, murdered by the male who was looking down at him through astonished violet eyes that seemed to reflect all of Bleu’s feelings.

He couldn’t breathe.

Bleu stumbled back a step as the past rushed back, sweeping him along in a torrent too strong for him to fight, impossible for him to break free of and find solid ground again.

Rosalind shifted her gaze to him and it filled with concern, her fingers twisting in front of her as she bit her lower lip. He knew she wanted to come and aid him, but it would be a dangerous move, one liable to cause her mate to turn on him, Fuery and possibly even her.

Bleu shook his head, silently telling her that he would find his balance again. He just needed a moment. Gods, he needed a moment to breathe.

An image of the silent forest in the Fifth Realm filled his mind, called to him to return to it as he had so many times, finding peace in the solitude and beauty of the place. He fought for the strength to push away from that urge, aware that it had served a purpose far different from the one he had believed.

It had become his place to hide whenever things had become too intense for him, too painful to handle.

He had buried himself in nature, craving the soothing touch of her, to rid himself of the cold emptiness that had invaded his very soul.

The loneliness.

Vail canted his head, causing strands of his wild blue-black hair to drop and brush his brow, his violet eyes pinned on Fuery.

His second in command.

His chest heaved with each deep breath he drew, stretching the scales of his armour, and his fingers curled into claws at his sides.

His eyes darkened dangerously.

Bleu waited for him to explode. If seeing Fuery again had caused Bleu shock, even when he had crossed paths with the male just months ago, then he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Vail, and on today of all days.

They both had awful timing.

Fuery lifted his head again, his face twisted in pain, a broken male that Bleu wasn’t sure was quite with the world. The darkness was strong in him, his tainted soul showing in his black eyes, barely a sliver of violet remaining in them.

Vail stepped towards him.

Bleu held his breath, convinced that Vail was about to turn violent because of the day they had all chosen to invade his life.

Fuery clawed at the ground. Even Bleu could see how shattered he was, only a fragment of the male he had once been, and that he was adrift, a lost little thing floating on an endless sea of pain.

Suffering.

Gods, he was about to suffer a lot more.

Vail stopped right in front of Fuery, slowly crouched and raised his right hand.

Not in a vicious strike, but in a soft touch, a gentle cupping of Fuery’s ashen cheek in his palm.

Bleu’s breath rushed from him and he could only stare at Vail and Fuery, marvelling at how different Vail was as the corners of his lips pulled into a very strained and forced smile. He was trying to master the darkness inside him, the hunger that Bleu knew had to be filling him, urging him to lash out at those who might hurt him and his mate. Bleu could see it all in his eyes as the black fought the violet, the darkness pushing for control.

He was trying to be a better male.

Rosalind’s smile said it all as she watched him interacting with Fuery.

“I am glad you are alive,” Vail whispered in a low voice, one filled with a tone meant to be calming and soothing. “But you are not well.”

Fuery closed his eyes, hiding his black irises, and lowered his head. Bleu had been shocked by the extent of the darkness in him, the hold it had on him, when he had met Fuery again in the nightclub. He had seen it control Fuery, driving him into a rage, and had seen another elf, Hartt, bring him back from the abyss.