Rideten, Present Time
Aislen was jolted awake when Talen shot out of the bed to the door. She was nicely nuzzled into Heath and Talen had been a warm spot against her back, his sudden moving causing a draught that was quickly filled when Cameron rolled over and snuggled up. She could hear Talen’s voice through the open door, and the reply of other voices on the other side.
Cameron’s hand cupped her breast and his cock nudged against her arse. He rocked his hips suggestively, still mostly asleep.
Heath tensed. “Fuck.”
“- leave in fifteen,” a woman spoke crisply and in a tone that said there would be no compromise. “Victor’s orders.”
“No,” Aislen pressed her face into Heath’s ribs. “Nonononono.”
“It’s retaliation,” he decided. “For last night.”
“It’s mean,” she grumbled. “Cruel.”
“No sex?” Cameron sat up. “That’s not fair.”
“You had sex last night. Good sex too, from the holes you left in the covers,” Heath pointed out.
“It was good sex,” Cameron was smug. He nudged Rhett. “Hey, wake up sleepy head.”
“I’m awake,” Rhett complained. “I’m just in denial.”
Talen leaned in the door. “We have ten minutes to move out,” he announced calmly. “We had best comply.”
“Shit,” Aislen rolled out of the bed, and then stopped and pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Fuck,” Cameron was on the move, grabbing her and hauling arse to the bathroom. He held back her hair whilst she vomited red into the toilet. “I thought we had gotten past this,” he apologized. “You haven’t vomited since being changed to hybrid.”
“Fuck,” Aislen gripped the toilet seat. “I thought I was done with that, too.”
“At least vomited blood smells better,” Rhett commented as he passed the bathroom door.
“Not helping.”
“Crackers aren’t a good idea,” Cameron said to Heath when their blonde mate leaned against the doorframe. “Nor is ginger tea or anything like that. I don’t know what to do for her.”
“I do,” Talen, already fully dressed, eased Heath aside and placed Aislen’s clothes in his hands. “Get her dressed while she has some blood. It works with pregnant vampires if I remember correctly. Vampire blood, specifically. Hybrid ought to work.” He perched on the edge of the bathtub and drew Aislen back until she was between his thighs. “Cameron?”
“Sure,” Cameron held out his wrist, and Aislen cupped it in both hands as she bit into him. The taste of Cameron’s blood was better than the blood laced with bile that she had vomited and eased the burn of her throat left behind.
She could feel Talen’s hands in her hair, weaving and twisting it back with swift efficiency.
As soon as she released Cameron, Heath stepped in with her clothes, and crouched, naked, in order to pull on her underwear and jeans. “These are getting…” Snug was in his head as he did up the fly, but he caught himself shooting her a sheepish look through his eyelashes. “Worn out.”
“It’s unfair,” she grumbled as she lifted her arms so that he could pull on her top. “You’d think a blood-based diet would be all protein, no fat.”
“It is,” Talen was amused as he tied off her hair. “This is not weight gain, Morgana, but the life that grows within you.”
“I like you soft,” Heath added and then blanched, his face screwing up in a grimace. “I mean… You wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t curvy, Aislen. You have always been perfect in my eyes.”
“Oh stop,” she felt her cheeks heat because he meant it. He’d always enjoyed the way she looked, the way she felt when he embraced her, the contrast of her softness to the leaner, harder forms of his mates.
“But you are beginning to show,” he added, emboldened. “Which is reassuring.”
“Reassuring,” she repeated.
“I find it reassuring,” he expanded. “I worry.”
“Aww, Heath,” she melted because he spoke the truth. So much of his domineering behaviour stemmed from a deep sense of worry and responsibility. Fear, in fact, though she would never say so to his face… Or maybe she would if he pissed her off enough. But she wouldn’t say it whilst she was feeling nice.
Talen rose. “Heath, you should get dressed. If Aislen has recovered, we are on a deadline.”
“Shit,” Heath turned and blurred as he bolted for the bedroom.
“Luckily vampire speed compensates for chatty mates,” Talen paused by the mirror to run the c of his fingers and thumb over his beard. “I am looking less than I would like,” he announced. “Perhaps in Trayrock I will find a beard grooming kit.”
“Poor daddy,” Aislen wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him. “I think we’re all looking less than we like. I know I’ve never had as much underarm hair before as I do now, and Rhett hates that his chest hair is starting to obscure his art. We all need a spa day,” she giggled. “To get plucked and polished.”
“Hmm,” he laughed through his nose. “War is not kind to vanity, is it?”
There was a sharp knock on the door, and their conversation broke off as Rhett, his top bunching on his biceps as he scraped his hair back into a ponytail, strolled unhurriedly over to answer it. The person on the other side knocked against it impatiently.
“Alright, alright,” Rhett rolled his eyes and pulled open the door. “We’re coming,” he told the man on the other side as he opened his mouth. “Aren’t we?” Rhett glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m done,” Cameron was still doing up his belt. “Heath?”
“Mmm,” Heath smoothed his hands down his top. “Could do with an iron.”
“Is it worth taking the bags?” Cameron paused by them. “They’re pretty empty. We’re wearing what was in them.”
“Shit,” Aislen realized that he was telling the truth. “I am not wearing khaki,” she said firmly.
“We will have to find somewhere in Trayrock,” Rhett agreed. “Because fuck khaki.”
“It would be best to have this conversation en route,” Talen placed a hand on the small of Cameron and Aislen’s backs and encouraged them forward. “Our guide is about to implode with impatience.”
There was not much chance to talk. The hallways of the bunker were silent and still in the very early morning, and although Aislen knew that the walls were thick, everyone stayed quiet with the sort of uneasy hush of wandering hotel halls knowing that other guests slept.
They were brought up to a house further down the block from their entry point, making Aislen wonder just how many houses in the area the pack owned. They were separated into five vehicles, each of different makes, colors, and carrying capacity. The dragons and Heath insisted on travelling with Aislen, which meant that they were placed in the back of a soldier-driven mini-van that had been stolen from a family with young kids, as Heath had to impatiently tear free two child seats and throw them out to make room, and Aislen found someone’s much-loved teddy squashed between the seats.
“We’ll have to do things like this,” she realized as she took her seat.
“Like what?” He was distracted, leaning out the still-open door to note which vehicles their other mates got into.
“Car seats and mini-vans.”
“Yeah,” he slid the door shut and eased into the seat next to her, his long legs hanging into the little walkway, and his hand casually braced against the back of the seat before them. The dragons were positioned directly behind them, and Aislen heard Samuel murmur something under his breath and Ember laughed, her voice low.
The scent of apple sauce rose, and Aislen grimaced. “Apple sauce. Why does it smell so disgusting now? I liked apple sauce.”
“Here,” Heath pulled a crunched-up packet of nappy wipes out of a bag pushed under the seat before them and passed it back. “Oh, and…” He rummaged in the bag and turned up a neat packet of plastic nappy-bags.
“Thanks,” Samuel reached forward. “Some sort of tube of mush was between the chair and the wall.”
“Baby food,” Heath supplied. “Probably rotten.”
“Smells rotten,” Aislen agreed.
“And yes,” Heath reached out and gave Aislen’s knee a squeeze. “We will have to do things like this. I look forward to doing things like this. For starters, can you imagine Rhett’s face when he needs to drive the mini-van?”
Aislen burst into laughter, smothering it against Heath’s shoulder as the werewolf soldiers entered the front seats and started the engine.
Their route took them past the church – something which slowed progress considerably, as vehicles were obstructing their path, and pedestrians gathered in between staring aghast at the bodies decorating the rooves and trees.
“Shish kabob,” Heath murmured, his eyes glued to the window. “Well,” he pulled his gaze free. “I think our night’s efforts were a success.”
“Yes,” Aislen reached out and took his hand. “It was a good thing, Heath,” she said firmly. “Despite Victor’s reservations. Just look at how shaken those Van Helsings look,” she gestured with her chin at a small group who were trying to control the crowd. “They need to realize that the supernatural world won’t just roll over and show our belly. And when we fight, it’s with tooth and claw.”
“Damned right,” one of the soldiers from the front agreed wholeheartedly. “They picked a fight, now they’ll have to damn well fight it.”
“We will fight it,” Heath vowed quietly. “But in the shadows, Aislen,” he glanced at her. “And out of the view of cameras. Let’s show the reporters one face, and our enemy the other.”
Trayrock, A few days after the storm“I don’t think that you understand,” the woman was furious, tapping the toe of her high heel on the sidewalk in a rapid staccato. “I have a very important appointment in Rideten. It has taken six months to get this appointment and I get charged whether I attend or not.”“Tiff,” her husband murmured, his hand on her elbow and demeanour pleading. “It’s for public safety.”“They can’t keep us prisoner here,” Tiff shook her elbow free of his grip in order to prod her finger into the chest of the NES officer. “It’s been a week already and there’s still no power, no internet, and the phone connections are in and out in and out… I can’t even call my daughter in Havermouth, and it’s just a short drive from here! Not that I can drive to see her, because all the roads are blocked, either by your men or the flood, and I want to know what you’re doing about it!”Lyric adjusted her grip on the cardboard box of supplies she was carrying to her car. The local sho
Trayrock, A few days after the stormLyric took a shovel and the shotgun with her. Just in case.The storm had broken branches and blown in rubbish from the town to tangle around the tree trunks. In the morning she would have to come out and salvage wood, leaves, and paper for the fire. Although it was warmer at the mouth than further up the river, the winter still crept in with the dark. Lyric didn’t like the cold.She walked past the edge of the vegetable garden and through the sort-of orderly lines of the orchard (Arthur had gotten creative with the spacing, the effect of some of the plants growing in the greenhouse, she suspected) to where the water lapped against the grass, the calmness of the ripples belying the rush of the water deeper in.On a normal day, with a normal river, the water was misleading enough - the surface would often look calm and the waters inviting. However, there was a strong undercurrent that was challenging to a strong swimmer, and dangerous to everyone el
Trayrock, A few days after the storm“Okay,” Lyric panted as she and the man staggered to the front door, and he braced his hands against the frame. “Almost there. Just a little further.” She closed the door behind them, as they made it into the hallway.The blanket had slipped, draping down to reveal that his back was bleeding again and that he had a fantastic arse on him. She pulled the blanket back up hastily, keeping her eyes averted, and definitely not giving in to the urge to see if the front was as well proportioned.He was not steady on his feet, swaying from wall to wall drunkenly, and she desperately clutched the blanket to him, feeling skin against the palm of her hand. He stilled, breathing heavily from his efforts, and turned his head to look down at her, his eyes glowing and his nostrils flaring.“Sorry,” she removed her hand from his chest.He did not move, nor did he break eye contact.Her heart hammered against her ribs. For a moment, she was so certain that he would
Trayrock, A few days after the stormHe was really sick.If this was the water sickness, Lyric was grateful that she had escaped it. He sweated and tossed and turned, moaning his way through the night. She checked his temperature, but it was very difficult to tell if he was running one as she didn’t know whether Mermen were normally hot or cold. If he had been human, he would be feverish, however, and as he looked human, that worried her.If she gave him paracetamol or ibuprofen, would he react to it as a human would? Did she dare take the risk? If she didn’t, and he died for lack of something so simple and easily provided, would she be to blame for not administering it?She didn’t know, and the not knowing held her indecisive, until there reached a point during the night when she was just so exhausted and he seemed so ill, that she took the chance, and administered both to him.And then hoped.He seemed to find ease in the medications and slept somewhat naturally. She nodded off, wak
Trayrock, A few days after the stormLyric muted the alarms that triggered as the 4WD picked it’s way through the fields, finding the tracks worn into the grasses, pausing so one of the men could get out to open the gates. Their arrival was inevitable.She needed to keep them out of the cottage. The room of monitors would start questions that she didn’t want to answer, and she had a merman in her bathtub.“Fucking hell,” she opened the draw and took out the handgun within it, checking that it was loaded although she knew that it was, before putting the safety on and hooking it into the back of her jeans.She grabbed the shotgun by the front door as she stepped out onto the porch, setting it into the bushes near the steps where she could retrieve it if she needed but it wouldn’t be immediately in sight. She began to pick garbage blown in by the storm out of the garden, creating a pile weighted beneath a broken brick, trying to ignore her racing heart.The sound of the engine broke thro
Trayrock, A few days after the storm“Oh my god, don’t your people have any sense of modesty?” She complained edging past him and reaching for the towel. Their skin slid against each other, and she smothered a gasp. Fuck Lyric, she scolded herself as she wrapped the towel around herself. This was the wrong time and definitely the wrong man to get stupid over.“Here,” she shoved a towel his way without looking at him. “If you’re done with your bath, cover it up.”“Please,” he said quietly.She chewed her bottom lip. “We can’t do anything tonight,” she said avoiding the issue. “And we can’t stay here. Get back into the bath. I’ll finish relocating to the bunker, and then come back for you. We’ll stay there tonight and discuss this further then.”He stepped past her, his tanned skin plastered with green hair catching the corner of her vision before the splash of water told her that he had returned to the bath. She picked up his discarded towel, hanging on the rack, before hurrying out of
Trayrock, A few days after the storm“It is a tomb,” the merman announced as they entered the bunker.It wasn’t too far from the truth, Lyric admitted to herself. And her fear that it would, indeed, become a tomb was one of the reasons that she would be leaving with him in the morning. The main reason, she told herself, firmly. It was the main reason.“It is safe,” she told him. “Hidden, protected, and has everything that a person needs to survive for some time.”“You knew,” he frowned at her. “To have a place like this, you knew to prepare for whatever disaster has happened to the water.”“My father believed that something was going to happen, and he made the bunker because of that,” she told him.“This… religious group,” he nodded slowly. “Continuing the old wars.”“The old wars?” She put water to boil on the stovetop. “I’m not much of a cook,” she told him. “And I’m not sure what you eat.”He sat on one of the bar stools on the other side of the table. “This food does not look fami
Trayrock, A few days after the stormLyric kept herself busy in the greenhouse and vegetable garden, preparing it to be left unattended, harvesting what she could. Some things, like root vegetables, would last for months in the bunker and be fine to eat. Other things, like tomatoes, it was better to just take them with her and eat them on the journey.She wondered what Niarthen would make of tomato.As night fell, it was unavoidable not to go back. She knew that she was a coward, but there was a siren’s call to Niarthen that was both exciting and alarming. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do about how attractive she found him. She didn’t think having sex was a good solution to the problem. Arthur had always said that sex complicated things.She’d never had this sort of reaction to someone before. Perhaps it was because he had spent so much time naked, but from the moment she had pulled him from the water, she’d been obsessing over him. “Get it out of your head,” she scolded herself st