Dream Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book 1) (8 page)

He hated that she worked so hard not only because she needed the money to pay the bills, but also because it kept her crushing sorrow at bay. He was unable to sit still. He needed to see her. When he went searching for Orlando he saw an update in the war room that he and Santiago had been called to a homicide. In an effort to keep busy, he checked in with his warriors on patrol. Next, he dealt with the paperwork and reports on his desk. Once all the menial tasks were done and there was nothing pressing on his plate he was at a loss. The desire to be near her was a painful ache. Dinner it was.

Zander tapped the leather-wrapped steering wheel of his Jag as he considered all that had happened in the past several days as he drove south. His strength had been tested in ways he had never expected. Sure, he had fought countless enemies over the centuries and won, but he doubted that he was strong enough to keep from claiming Elsie. He reached deep for the strength to resist. He didn’t want to do anything that would cause him to lose her forever.

That precious part of her soul that he carried and protected reminded him why he must put his desires aside. She was far too important. He laughed at himself as he considered his obsession. He knew he was stalking her and it wasn’t kingly behavior, but he was unable to stay away. His hands shook as he pulled into a parking space. She was close. He opened his mind and searched for the now familiar thread of her thoughts. He hated how anxious she was about fitting in enough shifts before rent was due, but he wasn’t surprised to see how hard his mate worked.

Impatient to see her, he exited his car and headed into the pub. The heavy scent of greasy food, sweat and stale alcohol didn’t drown out her sweet, honeysuckle fragrance. It instantly caught his blood on fire. His body coiled and his erection strained to get to her. Unruly bastard. After wrangling with his fangs and controlling the glow from his eyes, he approached the hostess and requested Elsie’s section.

He’d never had to fight for control over his own body. He had always been in charge, giving the orders, providing direction, and making the difficult decisions. And, he’d always done this without a second thought. Now, he felt like a mindless creature controlled by his cock and this unending desire for a mate he feared he would never have. The mere thoughts flared that empty ache within his chest. If he was unable to have his mate, he knew he would become an empty shell of a male, and his life would hold no meaning. The Goddess was either a sadistic bitch or brilliant. He was holding out final judgment.

Watching his mate sneak into the back with fatigue etched on her peaches-and-cream skin was a slap of cold water that cooled his ardor. He admired how hard she worked, but also hated that she worked at all. He wanted to take care of her, should be the one providing for her. He wanted to lavish her with luxuries and give her everything she had ever desired. She deserved to be cherished like the queen she was.

His breath left him when she returned from the back. Tonight, she wore a tight, black sweater that had a deep V-neck, giving him a glimpse of her cleavage. She was stunning. She moved with grace and greeted her customers with smiles and patience. Once again, her sweet scent wrapped around him. He had to close his eyes against their glow and press his lips firmly together to hide his fangs. The musical sound of her voice soothed and enflamed him as she spoke to the customers at the next table and took their orders. He opened his eyes and his lust heightened as he watched her nibble her lip as she wrote. He wanted some of that tasty treat.

The swish of her movements as she walked toward the computer to enter the order had him remembering how her hips had moved under him in the dream-sex they shared. With a groan, he covertly adjusted his erection. Goddess, he needed her. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face and sensual, full lips had him yearning to touch and taste them. His loved the small spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The gentle clearing of a voice had his eyes snapping open. There she was. His world settled into focus.

Her lips stretched into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “Why am I not surprised to see you here tonight? You alone?” she asked looking around for Orlando or Santiago, no doubt.

“Aye, I’m alone. I was hungry,” he took her in from head to toe, “and I wanted to see you. You look stunning as always. How has your day been,
a ghra
?”

She ran a hand over a face that looked tired. He was determined to find a way to support her and relieve some of this stress. “Busy, I’ve had to pull a double today. Rent’s due next week.” She shrugged. “You keep calling me
ah hraw
. What does that mean?”

He held her gaze for a moment before he spoke. “
A ghra
means ‘my love’ in Scottish.”

He watched her reaction to his words. He dipped into her thoughts and couldn’t help the slow grin that escaped when she thought about how she loved his accent. He focused on that rather than the denial that there would ever be anything between them.

She cleared her throat, “I don’t know what to say to that except to remind you we can only be friends. So, what can I get you?”

He reached up and ran a finger along the back of her hand. He felt her shiver in response. “I am no’ asking you for anything more, Elsie. I’ll take a Black and Tan and whatever you recommend for dinner.” He held his tongue before the words ‘you, naked in our bed’ slipped out.

“What happened to Mr. Bossy Pants? Letting someone else make decisions for you. This must be uncharted territory for you,” she smirked.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever given the privilege.” He enjoyed how her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.

“I don’t know what to make of you, Zander.” A customer at another table called for her attention. She looked over her shoulder and held up a finger indicating she needed a moment then turned back to him. “I have to go help that guy, but I’ll put in your order right away.”

“Take your time,” he said before she turned away. “I plan to enjoy the view.” He knew she had heard his words by the pretty, pink blush that stained her cheeks as she lowered her head before rushing off.

He was good to his word and enjoyed watching her move comfortably around the restaurant. She worked too hard. Too many times, he stood up to take the heavy tray from her, only to sit back down. The delivery of his food was a much-needed distraction from his obsession, although, he was disappointed that she wasn’t the one to deliver it. He sipped his beer and smiled down at the Irish nacho fries and the Hot Chipotle burger she had ordered for him. He liked spicy and his little mate was proving to be spicy, indeed.

She approached his table, putting a little extra sway in her hips. She stopped next to his chair and cocked her hip. “Everything ok with your order?”

One of his eyebrows winged to his hairline and he smiled. He liked this game. “Perfect.”

She snorted prettily. “I doubt that. I told Rodrigo to spit on your burger.”

He loved how she teased him and seemed comfortable with the rapport. A quick dip into her mind showed him that she did feel guilty but was able to lose herself in the moment.

“Too bad it wasn’t your spit,” he winked at her, yearning to take her into his arms. Their eyes locked. The minute hitch in her breath had his heart pounding in his ears. She felt their connection, too. A smile curved his lips as her mind began detailing what she wanted to do with him. He felt the little control he had mustered slipping away.

“I, uh, have to go check on orders,” she stammered before she hurried to the window of food.

As much as he wanted to stay, he needed to leave. He waited to stand up, willing his erection to lessen. No such luck, it wasn’t going anywhere. He zipped his jacket closed and threw down all the money from his pocket, which turned out to be several hundred dollars, as her tip, then headed for Elsie.

She was at one of the computers. He grasped her hands and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I will see you tomorrow night.” Leaving her standing there with her mouth agape, he headed for the door of the pub.

He would join his brothers on patrol and hopefully relieve some pent-up frustration until her shift was over. Then he planned to watch her from the trees near her apartment.

From Vampire King to stalker, how the mighty had fallen.

*****

Blood dripped from Zander’s arm as he gripped a skirm by his hair. He punched the shit out of the guy, and damn, did it feel good. He hated these motherfuckers. They had robbed him and those he loved of so much, and he’d be damned if he allowed them to take any more. He kicked out hard and was rewarded for his efforts by a cry of pain. Gerrick and Rhys had joined Zander and his brothers in the fight.

“Get those sons of bitches!” Kyran yelled. He was on the ground and a skirm had his teeth locked on one of his calves.

“Two got away,” Zander grunted, punching the scum-bag he was holding in the kidney. The guy had spun around and ripped into his forearm. The second the venom reached his bloodstream burning pain almost put him on his knees.

“Arsehole.” He slipped his
sgian dubh
between the skirm’s ribs and let go when he flashed on fire, becoming ash.

He looked over and saw that Gerrick had punched his enemy in the head one last time before grabbing the titanium blade from the small of his back. Quick and efficient, he pierced the guy through the heart. A sweep of Gerrick’s boot scattered the remains and as the ashes of his kill were swept away in the breeze, the sorcerer took off running, muttering a tracking spell which would allow them to follow the trail all skirm left behind.

Rhys dispatched the minion he held and began running after Gerrick. “C’mon, let’s follow the baby-poop-road,” the cambion threw over his shoulder.

Zander cracked a smile at the irreverent warrior’s description of the magical path the spell illuminated. Fucking Rhys.

“Goddess, this shite burns”, Bhric complained as he examined a bite wound on his shoulder. Zander could attest to how painful the injuries were and how they left scars. The one on his forearm didn’t need stitches, but right now, hurt like hell.

Skirm bites took longer for humans and supernaturals to heal because of the demon venom in their saliva. Normally, supernaturals healed at an accelerated rate, the exceptions being wounds made by silver and skirm bites.

“We all have injuries, but have no time for that now. Let’s go,” Zander lifted his arm to show a huge tear of his flesh where the skirm had ripped into his arm. “I can’t wait until the scientists can figure out how to counteract this venom.”

“Och, you’re like wee
bairns
, with all the crying. That’s nothing. Stop bitching and start moving, Jace will bandage your boo-boos when we get home. Dawn is coming arseholes, so hurry the fuck up,” Kyran snapped back as he limped down the alley towards his Denali. Zander knew the guy liked pain, but damn, he had a hunk of flesh hanging off his calf. He shook his head, glad Kyran was on their side.

*****

Yanking a makeshift belt fashioned from a scarf through her belt loops, Elsie cursed the emptiness and the painful ache of the black hole that tortured her constantly. She poked at her visible ribs, grateful that her sister wasn’t there to scold her. She had lived on energy drinks and little else for longer than she could recall.

Her thoughts went to Zander while she did her hair and applied the only make-up she typically wore, mascara. He had come into her life like a whirlwind and drove her to the point of insanity. Her body reacted every time she so much as thought about him. If she saw him or heard that sexy Scottish accent of his, forget it, she was done.

His gruff exterior was misleading. At first she thought of him as an autocratic jackass. Correction, he was an autocratic asshole, but he was one of the most thoughtful and giving persons she’d ever met. Not only had he given her presents, he had left her an obscene tip two nights in a row. Now, she had more than enough money for rent that month, as well as the next two. Everything he had done was making her life better in some way. He wanted more from her, yet he had never pushed her on the subject. Guys like him were rare and he was slowly and methodically chipping away at the ice surrounding her heart. It was scary and overwhelming.

She didn’t want to want him. She made a vow to Dalton when she married him to love him forever. She had joined SOVA to exact revenge for what was done to Dalton. She’d been using the guilt her desire evoked to keep the distance between them. Her will was slowly crumbling, and it broke her heart. She couldn’t keep her vows and be with Zander, too. She found herself wanting Zander beyond anything she’d ever wanted before.

Shaking her head, she pulled on her black boots and left her apartment. There was too much running through her head and hoped she could force it out before she encountered any skirm. Being this distracted on patrol wasn’t wise. She jumped into her beater and headed to meet Mack.

A loud ringing had her fumbling through her worn, black backpack to answer the call before it went to voicemail. That fateful night had left her with a phobia of voicemail messages. She grabbed the phone and quickly flipped it open. Placing it to her ear, she rushed out, “Hello.”

“Hey, cupcake, how’s it going? I stopped by with a key lime pie. Where are you?” She smiled at Orlando’s familiar voice. She could imagine him running his hands through his white-blonde hair making it stand up. They had become close, and she enjoyed their easy rapport. He was the brother she never had.

“I’m actually on my way to meet a friend. Next time.” She hated lying to the men who had become her friends. Keeping secrets felt wrong.

“Is your friend single? I don’t mind joining you guys.” She had to laugh at his response, so magnanimous of him.