Dawn of Darkness (Daeva, #1) (8 page)

"Well, if
it ain't Mikhail. Ya all alone tonight?" His eyes scanned the room,
probably looking for the rest of my squad.

"Just
me," I replied.

"What can
I get ya?" A good question. Having never drank alcohol before, I
was unsure what would be good.

"A pint
of this," I said, pointing to the nearest of the large pump
handles.

"Bad
day?" Hans asked as he poured the drink. "Don't think I ever saw ya
drink anythin' but ginger ale before." He placed the glass in front
of me. The clear, golden liquid sloshed against the sides,
underneath the white foam that decorated it. A small trickle
meandered down the side of the glass, pooling at the
bottom.

"Yeah,
something like that." I gave Hans my payment and lifted the glass
to my mouth, sipping at the sweet liquid, my throat tingling with a
surprising warmth. It was a far more pleasant experience than I
imagined it would be. I lifted the glass further, indulging in
bigger mouthfuls until I had to stop and gasp for air.

"So,
what's troublin' ya, lad?" I looked up to meet his eyes, set in a
rounded mass of defined wrinkles and bristly grey-black whiskers.
"Ya graduated not long ago, didn't ya? Trouble on ya first
mission?" I had to hand it to him. His mind was sharper than I
would have guessed. Perhaps, that came from working around people
all the time.

"I killed
someone," I answered before going back to my drink.

"Ah, say
no more." Hans turned to pick up a shot glass. He reached up to the
top shelf and picked off a brown glass bottle, from which he poured
a dark-brown liquid. He set the glass in front of me and I looked
at him, confused. "On the house."

I lifted
the glass to my lips, intending to sip it at first.

"Ya're
gonna wanna knock that back quickly. Trust me."

The smell
alone was enough to make me feel light-headed. It smelled of pure
alcohol, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I
swallowed it in one gulp, figuring I may as well do as Hans
suggested. I coughed, the bitter, spicy shot coating my throat in a
layer of fire. That was more like what I expected alcohol to be. I
downed some more of the pint in an attempt to douse the flames at
the back of my throat, though it only calmed them.

Hans
looked down at my empty glass. "Another?"

I nodded
and handed him the glass.

"Look, ya
ain't the first, nor will ya be the last guy ta come here and try
ta forget the fact that ya killed someone," he said, his hand
pulling back the pump once more. "But let me tell ya somethin'.
Gettin' wasted might help tonight, but it won't solve anythin' in
the long run."

"Maybe
not," I said, handing him some more coins. I'd worry about that
part when I got to it. Right then, I just wanted to
forget.

I could
feel my cheeks starting to radiate as I continued with the second
pint. When I started on the third, it felt as though there was a
haze blanketing my brain, and the air around me was somehow less
thick. Starting to work, I thought, my mind beginning to wander
elsewhere, and the troubles washed away with the flow of
alcohol.

"You
asshole." I set my drink down and looked to my left, to see Ash
walking towards me, his fists clenched. I smiled, though I'm not
sure why. "I've been worried sick looking for you." He sat on the
stool next to me and motioned for Hans. "I'll have whatever he's
having."

Hans
nodded and finished drying the glass in his hand, before pouring
another pint.

"How many
has he had?"

"That
there's his third."

Ash
turned on his stool to face me. "So what was your plan? You come
here without telling anyone, get pissed, and then what?" I
continued drinking, though it appeared this was one problem I
couldn't make disappear by drowning it in alcohol. "Come on, Mik.
Talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what the problem
is."

"Maybe you can't help me," I
growled, slamming my half-empty glass onto the bar. "How
could
you
understand? You didn't kill someone today."

"That's
what this is all about?" Ash sighed. "I should have guessed. Still,
do I have to remind you that if I wanted, I could feel exactly what
you're feeling?"

"Just
because you can feel it doesn't mean you understand."

"I
understand better than you could imagine." Ash took a few large
mouthfuls of his drink. "You're not the only one who has killed
before."

I looked
at him in disbelief. Surely he was only saying it to make me feel
better.

"The day
I found out I could do this..." He lifted his free hand from where
it rested on his knee. The water in the air above his hand began to
condense, then freeze, creating a small sphere of ice. "There were
two casualties, a young girl and her... boyfriend." His fist
clenched, crushing the ice. "I couldn't stop it. He froze to
death."

"How is
that the same? You had no choice. You couldn't control
it."

"And what
choice did you have? Let him kill you? This is the army, Mik. When
we're out there, it's kill or be killed."

"I know,
I know. I thought it would be easier because they're the enemy, but
it's not. I feel like I've done something awful."

"I hear
you, man. But sometimes, there's nothing you can do about it. You
did what you had to... to survive. And if it makes you feel any
better, I'm glad you did."

We sat in
silence for the next few minutes, while I pondered over Ash's
words. It was true it was either me or the enemy, and I had no
desire to die anytime soon. When it was put as simple as that, it
seemed to make a sad sort of sense. I really didn't have a choice.
Still, that didn't mean I had to feel good about it, but at least I
could stop blaming myself. That man forced my hand when he lunged
for me. He made his choice, and died for it.

"Feeling
better?" Ash asked. Not that he had to ask.

"A
little."

"Lemme
give ya kids some advice," Hans said. He lined three shot glasses
out on the bar, and filled them with the same dark liquid he had
given me earlier. He handed one each to us both and took the last
for himself. "Ya didn't want to kill him. Ya have a good heart. Be
thankful for that and pray ya don't lose it along the way. Now,
bottoms up."

We downed
our shots together. Hans let out a quick 'Ahh", as though it
weren't liquid fire he had swallowed. Ash screwed up his face a
little, but didn't seem overly affected by it. I coughed and
spluttered, which the others found hilarious. I scowled at Ash, who
held up his hands as if to say, 'Hey, not my fault'.

Hans
cleared up the empty glasses and moved them to the sink at the far
end of the bar, where another customer waited.

Now we
had some privacy, I asked, "Did you want to kill him?"

Ash
looked away from me. For a moment he stayed silent, staring into
the bottom of his glass. "Yes," he whispered. "I was so angry, so
confused... there was a moment when I wanted him to die." I watched
as Ash downed the rest of his drink, the pain clearly written
across his face. "But then I heard his screams. He died slowly and
painfully. I wanted to take it all back, to make it stop, but I
couldn't. I wished for his death, and it came true. If I hadn't
blacked out from the stress, I probably would've killed the girl
too."

"Sorry, I
shouldn't have–"

"It's
okay," he interrupted. "It's in the past. I just wanna forget." Ash
picked up his empty glass and raised it to Hans, who was walking
back to us. "Something a little stronger please, Hans."

Hans
paused, observing the look on Ash's face. He said nothing, instead
doing as he was asked and filling a small tumbler with something
clear and brown. He sat the glass in front of Ash, who handed him a
note and took a mouthful.

We spent
the next hour or so, talking about anything we could think of that
didn't involve death, in an attempt to forget about the lives we
had taken. We talked about our first views of the outside world,
and the latest rumours, which Hans was happy to fill us in on.
Katiya would not be pleased when she found out who she had
supposedly slept with. I felt sorry for whoever started that
rumour.

As I
finished my last drink, I didn't feel as drunk as I hoped I would
be. That is, until I stood up and almost fell. Ash was there to
catch me, and I laughed off my lack of balance. We left the bar,
waving bye to Hans on the way out as he wiped down the
tables.

*****

The walk
back to our room was excruciatingly slow. My left arm was draped
over Ash's shoulders, and his right arm around my waist. By then
the streets were quiet, as were the dormitory corridors, meaning
few people saw me in my sorry state. Ash fumbled with the lock to
our door and carried me inside, throwing me onto my bed. The room
appeared to spin, making me feel nauseous. I pushed myself up onto
my elbows and the room steadied. Ash kneeled down in front of me
and began removing my shoes. I giggled as he pulled off my socks,
his cold hands brushing against the soles of my feet.

"Arms
up," he said, gripping my t-shirt and beginning to pull it up. I
lifted my arms up and a hand brushed past my nipple, still hard
from the cold wind and rain. I gasped and Ash paused. A second
later, the t-shirt was pulled over my head and thrown to the
floor.

Ash sat
beside me on the bed, one hand brushing through my hair, and the
other circling my left nipple. A long finger began to flick over
it. I sucked in a breath and Ash smirked, pleased with the reaction
he was getting. The hand on my chest pressed against me, forcing me
onto my back. Ash's head lowered to meet mine, his lips pressing
gently against my own. His tongue traced the line of my jaw, and
then my neck. My skin tingled in its wake as he made his way down
past my shoulders. I lifted my head to watch him, and his eyes
fixed on mine.

Like a
cobra, his lips clamped over my nipple. He sucked hard, his tongue
flicking across the tip. It was an intense mix of pleasure and pain
that arched my back and made me cry out. I felt him chuckle against
me. My hands gripped the back of his short hair, torn between
pressing him into me and pulling him off.

My heart
beat wild against my chest and my breath was ragged. The pleasure
washed over my mind, blocking out any coherent thoughts. He
stopped, giving the sensitive skin a quick kiss before he sat up to
pull off his sweater, and tossed it carelessly to one side. The
haze in my head lifted ever so slightly, enough to notice from
where I lay that Ash was very excited. And in that brief moment, I
realised I was too.

Before I
could protest, his lips descended once more, heading straight for
the untouched nipple. As the sensation took over me once more, I
felt a few sharp tugs at my waist, then warmth, his hand sliding
down into my boxers to take hold of me. I inhaled sharply. The hand
began to move, slowly at first, but picking up speed, jerking
against the cloth that seemed to grow tighter with every stroke.
All the while, his mouth continued its relentless
assault.

I opened
my eyes when the hand retreated, unable to remember when I had
closed them. His lips gave one last touch to the sore skin they had
worked on so meticulously. Ash stood and moved to the bottom of the
bed, his hands gripping the waist of my jeans. I lifted my hips as
he pulled them down over my legs. He reached up once more, tugging
at the thin material that covered my erection, exposing me
completely.

I watched
as he started to unfasten his belt, then a button. He looked up,
caught me staring and smiled. The zip came down ever so slowly,
teasing me. He wiggled his hips gently, letting the jeans fall of
their own accord. One hand played over the line of his abs,
following a thin trail of golden hair. It disappeared beneath his
waistband, grasping and stroking as he watched me watch
him.

He
dropped the boxers in one swift movement and crawled onto the bed,
parting my legs so he could kneel between them. His erection was in
plain view above my own. I had the sudden urge to reach out and
touch it. Ash gave a surprised look when my hand wrapped around
him. I moved my hand down to the base, feeling the soft skin slide
over him, and back up again, fascinated by the slight curve as he
let out a deep moan. I repeated the movement again, and again. His
hands played along the inside of my thighs as his hips began to
rock impatiently.

Without
warning, his lips crashed down onto mine. His tongue pressed inside
me, snaking around my own. I could feel his body begin to tremble
as he pulled back. His hand gripped mine, prying it from
him.

"Not
yet," he whispered to me. Ash stalked backwards, until his head was
above my waist. As he crouched down, his tongue swept across the
tip of my erection. My whole body shuddered with anticipation. "I
love virgins," he said. "They're always so responsive."

I felt the heat creep up into my
cheeks, and opened my mouth to say something. The words were cut
off, and all thought lost as the warmth of his mouth enveloped me.
I threw my head back and cried out. With each bob of his head, the
tension in my lower gut grew and grew, his tongue working in time
with every stroke. I clawed at the edges of the mattress, desperate
for something to hold onto. Each second the urgency, the need for
release, became stronger. I began to thrust my hips upward, diving
deeper into his mouth, faster and faster. I could feel
it
coming. Just below
the surface it was waiting, gaining strength with every
lunge.