Immortal Sleepers_Blood Awakening Page 7

  Groaning dimly at the feeling of him sliding out from the confines of her warm and wet sheath, Kaelyn stretched her arms above her head to tangle in his hair. She turned her head to watch Tyrian collapse at her side. He pulled her languid, well-loved body with ease against his side, and she rested her head atop his shoulder, the steady beating of his heart lulling her into a deep and contented sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Tyrian awoke with a start, snapping his eyes open as he drew in a tight breath.

  Someone was upstairs.

  After glancing down at the sleeping woman at his side, he relaxed, and gently laid her head on the pillow. He lifted her leg from across his hips, and slid from the confines of his beautiful lover’s embrace. Already, he missed her warmth. He made his way over to the closet, pulled on a pair of black silk pajama pants, and grabbed one of his custom-designed black carbon steel short hook swords.

  After he closed the ornate French doors behind him, Tyrian silently made his way up the stairs to the fourth-floor kitchen, where his intruder currently stood. The running water in the pipes had awoken him, and left him slightly perturbed that he’d slept so contently as not to notice the intruder’s presence.

  Making no sound as he rounded the corner, Tyrian took in the sight of the prowler. He lowered his sword, tensed muscles relaxing at the familiar face, now contorted in disgust. Shooting a glare at the man perched atop the butcher-block counter of the open fourth story kitchen, he stole across the old oak floorboards and set his sword on the counter.

  “Couldn’t you have at least washed off that stench before coming up here to attack me?” The man scooted further down the counter as Tyrian drew closer.

  Tyrian rolled his eyes exasperatedly in his companion’s general direction, mostly for interrupting him while being wrapped up so comfortably in the arms of the beautiful woman who lay asleep in his bed.

  “Had I known you would be dropping in, I would not have bothered coming up here at all. Not that I don’t appreciate your visits, but what are you doing here, Slade?”

  Slade raised one wild blond eyebrow. “Is that any way to thank the man who’s been covering your ass for the past week while you were on babysitting detail?”

  Sighing, Tyrian walked over to the half bath next to the kitchen and grabbed a washcloth. After dousing it in a healthy coating of unscented hand soap, he gave himself a once-over rinsing before returning to the kitchen.

  Sniffing indelicately, Slade nodded to him in what passed for appreciation in the gruff Shifter Hunter. Among many other traits, Slade had inherited from his Sleeper an extremely heightened sense of smell. No doubt he had picked up on Tyrian’s previous activities before the Vampire Hunter even made it up the stairs.

  “Did you come upon anything I should be concerned about?” Tyrian returned to his spot next to the counter.

  The other man shrugged, glancing at him in unabashed scrutiny as he took a sip of water from the glass in his hand. “I’d much rather hear about your recent escapades. I’ve known you for seven hundred years, Tyrian. In all that time, I’ve never known you to bring a woman home to your bed. Last I heard, you were neck deep in Necro scum. What the hell am I missing here?” Slade drilled Tyrian with a concentrated glare, as if he already knew the answer to his question.

  Tyrian held Slade’s dark brown stare. “She’s a Medium.”

  Slade hissed a scathing curse, turned his head, and leaped from the counter, to land on his bare feet. Pacing over to the window, shoulders tense, he placed a hand on his hip and the other over his eyes. His massive shoulders rose and fell as he dragged in deep, calming breaths.

  “I take it she’s yours, or you wouldn’t have bedded her.” Slade turned abruptly; Tyrian saw that he both hoped for and dreaded the answer at the same time.

  At Tyrian’s answering nod, Slade again turned and glared out the window. “Damn it,” he sighed. Shaking his heavy, blond mane of hair, he slammed his fist heavily against the brick wall. Turning back to Tyrian and crossing his arms, he leaned back against the sanded brick, and regarded his longtime friend with a mixture of remorse and acceptance.

  “You’re certain?” he asked, as if hoping Tyrian had made a mistake.

  “She bears my marking on her left shoulder.” Tyrian tried not to wince as Slade hung his head and hunched his shoulders, grief flowing off of the Hunter in waves. Stepping over, Tyrian then placed a hand on one heavily-muscled shoulder and squeezed, bringing the man’s saddened chocolate-brown gaze up to meet his own.

  “I understand your reservations, my friend, but this is not as detrimental as you’re making it seem.” When the back of Slade’s hand made contact with his arm, Tyrian closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

  The Shifter Hunter stalked to the opposite side of the room. “Don’t give me that shit, Tyrian! Just—just don’t.” Raking a hand through his thick blond hair, Slade paced back and forth across the ornate black Prussian rug in the middle of the open living space. “You’ve never had to suffer the ramifications of that damned curse. I have. So don’t tell me what it’s like, because you have no idea.”

  Tyrian couldn’t argue the point. While the Medium prophecy had not personally burned Slade himself, he’d borne witness to the dire effects it had on someone very close to him. The man Slade had served as Page, who had raised him from barely a babe, had found his Medium nearly twenty years after Slade had come into his life. They’d had a paltry three years together when an unfortunate event claimed her life. Slade could only watch helplessly as the man he’d considered a father withered into a lifeless shell without her. He had to end the man’s misery himself, once the unrest in the Shifter clans had risen to insurmountable levels without their Hunter to cajole them. Taking the Sleeper into himself, Slade vowed then never to let himself fall prey to the cursed prophecy that had claimed the sanity of his most treasured companion.

  And now, again, Slade’s most trusted friend had found his Medium. Tangible despair hung from him, threatening to draw Tyrian down into its depths along with him.

  Many millennia before, Starla had set down what was now known as the Medium prophecy. Rather vague in itself, the prophecy stated that with each generation of Hunter, a Medium would be born: half human, half other. They would be identified by their species traits and a small birthmark in the exact location of their destined Hunter’s blood seal. Their blood bond would temper the Sleeper within, sharing the burden of the weighty curse, and allow the Hunter to traverse realms, while giving the Medium the longevity of their mate. The downside, however, stated that should one of them expire, the other would soon follow, unable to survive without the other half of their soul, once merged.

  For these reasons, Hunters both coveted and feared Mediums. The current administration was one hundred percent mateless: quite a feat, considering how long a few of them had lived. None of them had found their Mediums, whether by accident or design, until now.

  The grandfather clock on the main landing sounded in distant chimes, the resonating intonation cascading through Tyrian with a foreboding that this was only the beginning.

  After halting in his pacing, Slade jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. He flared his nostrils just before Tyrian’s ears picked up the faint pad of light footsteps ascending to the fourth floor, where he and Slade stood. He shot Slade a glare that clearly said he would find himself summarily knocked out on his ass if he weren’t nice. Tyrian couldn’t say who would win in a fight between the two of them, but he knew he would hold nothing back when it came to Kaelyn’s safety. Heaving a weathered sigh, Slade nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest. They waited a few more seconds for Kaelyn to peek over the landing.

  As she finally stepped onto the oak floor, Tyrian’s breathing hitched at the sight she made. The only item of clothing draped over her small form was his black dress shirt that hung halfway down her thighs. Her hair hung in messy curls around her shoulders; heavy-lidded sleep-laden eyes and slightly swollen, full, pink lips gave her the
requisite look of a well-loved woman. Biting back a groan, he clenched his hands at his sides. He swallowed heavily against the urge to march across the room and grab her up, to carry her back downstairs and make love to her again until she fell asleep in his arms once more. Instead, he held out a hand in invitation for her to join them on the other side of the room.

  Kaelyn padded softly across the floor. When she reached Tyrian, he slipped a protective arm around her shoulders and folded her into his side. After placing a kiss atop her messy brown locks, he introduced his Medium to the Shifter Hunter.

  “Kaelyn, this is my good friend Slade. He just dropped in to pick up a few things on his way home.” Tyrian held Slade’s eyes with his own. The other man narrowed his chocolate gaze at Tyrian before inclining his head in greeting.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Slade. Are you a Hunter, like Tyrian?” Kaelyn held her hand out in greeting.

  Slade immediately turned his eyes to Tyrian’s. The Vampire Hunter succinctly shook his head; he hadn’t exactly told her the whole truth. Narrowing his eyes disapprovingly, Slade carefully engulfed Kaelyn’s outstretched hand with his own.

  “You could say that,” Slade offered.

  * * * *

  Kaelyn smiled secretively as she returned her hand to rest against Tyrian’s bare, well-muscled abs, and studied the man standing before her. He and Tyrian were definitely cut from opposite ends of the same cloth. His thick, blond hair barely brushed his shoulders, flaring out at the ends and parting down the middle of his head, the sides loosely tucked behind his studded ears. Deep chocolate-brown eyes, slightly narrower than Tyrian’s, thus had somewhat of a catlike appearance. The rest of his features also boasted hard-cut angles. Sculpted chin and cheekbones, straight, sloping nose, and angular forehead served to give him the appearance of an exotic predator, both beautiful and dangerous.

  If Slade’s face didn’t give enough of an impression of tightly coiled strength, his body surely put any doubts to rest. Even more defined than Tyrian, he wore a tight black t-shirt that stretched tightly over his heavily muscled torso, to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. His biceps bunched as he raised his arms to cross over his incredible pectorals, which she doubted she could even fit both of her hand around. A set of sculpted eight-pack abs disappeared into low-hung dark wash jeans, just loose enough to hide jutting thighs and calves.

  To her surprise, Kaelyn found Slade’s feet bare. Her wonder must have appeared on her face; a soft chuckle suddenly met her ears, and her gaze flashed up to meet amused dark brown eyes.

  “I prefer to run unconfined.” Slade wiggled his toes, causing a blush to light up Kaelyn’s neck and cheeks for being caught in her spectating.

  Tyrian strengthened his hold on her shoulders, pulling her tighter to his side. She ducked her head as he softly admonished his friend with his melodic voice.

  “Do not embarrass her, Slade. You’re not exactly what one would consider common stock.”

  Smirking, Slade shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides. Sticking his thumbs through his belt loops, he then rocked back on his bare feet. “Just being honest.”

  A slightly mocking intonation to Slade’s voice as he punctuated the phrase left Kaelyn silently questioning what he meant. She knew very well that Tyrian had left a hefty bit of information out of their earlier conversation. However, she also knew that it took time to gain the requisite trust required for some people to share certain details with others about their lives. Surely if it were important, he would have told her before getting involved with her.

  She hoped.

  She had to admit that she really didn’t know very much about the man she’d just shared her most intimate first experience with a few short hours earlier. Her instincts told her that he was a good man, but all he’d really mentioned was his first name, that he liked old things, and that he worked as a Hunter of some sort of exotic species that he had yet to enlighten her about. It was partly for that reason that she’d asked Slade if he was a Hunter as well. The look on his face had confirmed for her that he, too, hunted the exotic species that Tyrian did. She itched to ask the man what his quarry was, but felt loath to betray Tyrian’s trust with the question.

  If Tyrian wanted Kaelyn to know, he would tell her. While not sure how she knew it, she felt her confidence in that fact aptly placed.

  “It was nice to meet you, Kaelyn.” The smile on Slade’s lips did not quite meet his eyes as he nodded to her. “But I should be going. The guys have been getting restless while I was away, helping you with your…” Slade glanced briefly at Kaelyn before turning his eyes back up to Tyrian’s. “…assignment. Always a pleasure.”

  Tyrian clasped Slade’s forearm with his free hand, and Kaelyn got the feeling that the two were more than colleagues. Something like brothers. “Slade, take care of yourself.”

  “Yeah, you, too.” Slade cryptically glanced down at Kaelyn, before heading for the stairs without a backward glance.

  A few seconds later, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed, and Tyrian seemed to collapse against her. She hadn’t quite noticed how rigidly he had held his body until Slade had gone and the tension he’d held in had suddenly drained out of him.

  Kaelyn cleared her throat. “Well, that was…intense.”

  * * * *

  Sighing, Tyrian turned and wrapped his other arm around Kaelyn’s back, pulling her into a tight hug as she wrapped her own arms around his naked torso. Resting his cheek on top of her head, he replayed the strained meeting again in his head.

  He silently thanked his lucky stars that Kaelyn hadn’t asked Slade about being a Hunter. Almost certainly, the man would have opened a can of worms Tyrian wasn’t sure he wanted to handle yet. Slade could be his best friend or the worst thorn in his side, depending on his mood. Another happy trait he’d inherited from his Sleeper.

  Pulling back, Tyrian gazed down into Kaelyn’s bright eyes and sighed. “Did we wake you, love?”

  Kaelyn parted her lips, sandwiched her lower lip between her teeth, and gazed up at Tyrian in wonder. Reaching up with her hand, she then gently traced her fingers down the length of his jaw, stood on her tiptoes, and drew his mouth down to hers. She kissed him slowly and languidly, softly pressing her lips against his and breathing through her nose. Her deep breathing brought her breasts, clothed only in his black dress shirt, tight up against his chest. He lowered his hands, encompassed her slender waist, and squeezed, pressing her closer into his body. She softly broke the connection between their lips, and gazed at him through hooded lids with a look that sent his heart racing.

  “No.” She smiled, and lowered herself to stand flat on her feet once more. “I turned over and you weren’t there, so I came looking for you. You were right; it is a big house.”

  After reaching down, Tyrian lifted Kaelyn effortlessly into his arms. Answering her smile with one of his own, he made for the stairs. “Would you like the grand tour, lest you go looking for me again and find yourself lost?”

  Locking her arms around his neck, Kaelyn then snuggled into his chest and shook her head. “I’d really rather you just take me back to bed.”

  Grinning broadly, Tyrian clutched the woman tighter in his arms as he began the descent to his bedroom. “A woman after my own heart.”

  He felt her smile against his chest as her body temperature began to rise, and the scent of her arousal overwhelmed his delicate senses, a lurid prelude to the events he already planned on exploring when they finally reached the bed.

  * * * *

  Caleb slowly opened his eyes in the stark blackness that surrounded him. After shifting slightly to the right, he squinted at the bright blue series of dots on his binary clock. He groaned and rolled over. Too close to the edge of the bed, he ended up falling gracelessly, onto the floor.

  Rubbing his head, he sat up and yawned widely, then fished around on the bed for the remote and turned on the lights in his basement apartment. He reached his hands above his head in a tall stretch, le
t the remote fall, and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. Blinking as he glanced around the dimly lit space, he scratched his bare middle, which chose that moment to make its own needs heard.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Caleb groaned. After picking himself up off the floor, he headed for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut with his foot, the teenager then relieved himself before he ambled into the shower. When he turned on the water, a frigid stream poured out of the custom rain shower head. He jumped back with a startled yelp, adjusted the temperature, and cursed himself for having such low blood pressure in the mornings. He made very slow work of washing himself.

  Nearly twenty minutes later, Caleb emerged from the bathroom-closet combo clothed in dark blue jeans, blue, black, and white DCs, and a loose-fitting dark blue t-shirt with a surgeon operating on a rocket depicted on the front. He had combed his dark brown hair forward; it fell to one side, and into his startlingly blue eyes. After walking over to the series of computers he affectionately referred to as his “Command Center,” he grabbed the shoulder bag hanging over the edge of his swivel gaming chair and headed for the stairs leading up to the main level.

  A while before, he’d petitioned Tyrian to put a kitchen in his makeshift basement apartment, but the Hunter had refused. If he did so, Tyrian claimed, he would never see the wayward teenager. Instead, he had installed that damned doorbell system to let Caleb know, at any and all hours of the day and night, when Tyrian needed him for something. Most recently, when the bastard had tracked freaking Necro blood all over the new floorboards they’d had to have installed because of the last time something like that had happened.

  That project had forced Caleb out of his basement sanctum, and into the fourth-floor loft Tyrian had reserved for his Hunter guests when they stopped in. Feeling more than slightly inconvenienced by the move, Caleb had insisted on picking out the new material for the wood flooring. He’d chosen bamboo because he knew it would irritate the man who had a not-so-subtle soft spot for antiquity. Come to find out, Tyrian had actually liked the look and texture of the stuff. Go figure.