Shadow Guardians: The Promised

After his prayer, Uriah just remained on his knees on the floor of the small temple. Following his meltdown, he ritually showered and came here. He’d kneeled on the floor for some time, trying to pray himself calm.

It had worked, to an extent.

In the last four years, he’d seen the deaths of all his brothers and their females. And even of some nosferi.

He never knew when the visions would come to pass, only that the fact that he’d never been wrong before was no comfort.

It ate at him, knowing when his family would die. But he stuffed it down and moved on in order to keep his sanity because he had no way to turn off the visions, and he couldn’t live his life fearing when he might lose them every day.

If anything, it made him cherish his time with them even more. He remembered events from four years ago—small things—that his brothers had forgotten or taken for granted.

But seeing Mari had shaken him to his core and turned his bowels to liquid.

If he could give back this ... gift ... he would do it in an instant. What he saw was darkness and despair—rarely light.

Feeling marginally better, he rose and admired the statues of the gods.

“Please don’t take her from me,” he asked. Again.

He tried to recall what her face looked like in the vision and whether she was pre- or post-transition. But he had been so rocked with shock that he couldn’t remember now. And that troubled him.

And well, he could’ve done without the pukefest embarrassment in the yard.

He focused on the cool, smoothness of the wooden pews as he glided his fingertips over them, still trying to ease the uncomfortable buzz in his body.

He didn’t want to feed her while he was so wacked out. She would take all that stress inside her.

That was probably an unfounded theory.

After sparing a last glance at the statues and making a last plea, he left the temple.

Uriah hadn’t realized how long he’d been in there; when he stepped outside, the sky was streaked with the colors of approaching dawn.

Great, way to go, asshole. She must be worried sick.

The morning birdsong sounded, and for some reason, that eased the last of his nerves, at least for now.

He paused by the front door with his hand on the knob and watched the horizon as the sun emerged.

The rays didn’t touch him, so he could appreciate the rising and setting sun. And even if they touched him, he could withstand them for a few minutes before they started to burn.

He thought of all the movies he’d seen where vampires went up in flames and couldn’t stop the snort. Ridiculous.

Sure, they could get really bad third degree burns, but they couldn’t go ash like the demons. They had very sensitive skin, that’s all.

He went inside to see his beauty. How was he supposed to ‘let her breathe’ after seeing that?

Marionette sat on the bed, squeezing a pillow tightly to her chest and holding on to it like it was the only thing keeping her together. Because it was.

Uriah had confided in her that he’d seen people die before, but she could never have been prepared for the reaction she saw earlier in the night. Her massive, muscled warrior, her protector, just broke into pieces in her arms.

She felt both honored and afraid.

How cruel his visions could be...

The door clicked, and she was propelled out of her thoughts. Uriah came in and closed the door.

She dropped the pillow an inch or so.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, nerei.”

“Why?”

As far as she was concerned, he had nothing to be sorry for.

She didn’t care for apologies; she wanted him—all of him.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, sorry for how I acted. That was cowardly.”

He came over and sat down next to her, then slowly pried the pillow from her white-knuckled grip.

Her throat was suddenly dry again. She wanted to say she didn’t think he was a coward, but a warrior wouldn’t hear that.

But her mate might...

She licked dry lips. “Don’t be sorry. Now I know how much you love me.”

Uriah smiled lightly and pushed her down to the bed. “You’re thirsty. I can feel your craving.”

An idea sprang into his mind, and if she were post-trans, it probably would’ve seemed less neurotic to him.

He laid down next to her, and immediately the atmosphere filled with a different kind of heaviness.

Feeding and sex were linked, and the anticipation was the same, the intimacy unavoidable.

They turned to face each other while he stroked the lovely features of her face. And she swore that even their words became ambiguous.

“I ... I’m not sure how ... ” Mari stammered, “You need to show me.”

Uriah’s eyes darkened, filling with lust. “I don’t. Follow your instincts, beauty.”

She swallowed, seeing his elongated fangs showing through his parted lips.

“You can do whatever you want with me; use me however you like. I just have one request.”

“What’s that?” she asked softly, thinking of all kinds of things she wanted to use him for. Her cheeks flushed.

“I want a taste of you too.” So I can track you. He blinked that thought away, but it milled in the back of his mind anyway. “I won’t take much.”

She gave a skittish nod. What if she did it wrong?

Right. Instincts.

Uriah pulled her close, then rolled onto his back with her on top of him. Her hair created a curtain around his face, and it was just the two of them inside it.

When she adjusted her position, she gasped when something hard pressed between her legs.

His breath hissed out. “I can’t help it, beauty.”

Maybe she didn’t want him to help it...

“Kiss me,” Uriah said when he saw she still needed help.

Her lips came down on his hungrily, velvet on velvet, and heat radiated through her.

She feasted on his mouth until her dry throat became too much to bear, and he felt it. He turned his face away from her, exposing his neck.

And her body shivered with craving, seeing the muscles of his neck and the pulsing vein that held his life. Her fangs extended, and her hunger made them hurt.

There was no holding back anymore, and her fangs pierced skin and flesh. Then his warm elixir coated her throat. She felt his chest vibrate as a groan of delight went through him when she drew enthusiastically from him.

The raw power of his warrior blood was a raging storm in her body, and for the first time in weeks, she felt strong again.

“That’s it,” he said gruffly. “Take what you need.”

With his fevered body against her and his liquid courage coursing through her, there was more than his blood that she wanted to take.

She wanted to touch him.

When the sting of his fangs in her neck registered in her sluggish brain, her body ignited. And out of nowhere, there came a tight, clenching sensation in her center that was near-painful.

With her belly full and her body and mind relaxed, she withdrew and instinctively licked his wound so it would seal. He did the same.

And then she lifted her face and stared into his golden eyes, as if asking him permission. But he’d already given it, and all she saw was hunger of a different kind.

She gulped, and her hand went down between their bodies. Even as she undid his jeans, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

“Do whatever you want, beauty. I’m all yours.” He said again, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

He smiled too. “Use me,” he quipped, “I wanna be your toy.”

As much as that amused her, it turned her on and the playfulness took away some of the first time awkwardness.

She hadn’t even touched him, and already Uriah’s breath was laboring. Gods, she tasted like heaven. And he wanted to know every part of her.

But she fumbled with the jeans and couldn’t seem to get the zipper to work.

Uriah lifted his head and hurried to be free of the prison of fabric. “What the hell is going on down there? Ah, shit...”

The zipper had caught the fabric of his underwear and had become stuck, probably in his panicked haste to get dressed.

“Are you kidding me right now?” After four years of waiting, this was his fate?

Mari’s head rolled back with laughter as Uriah now fumbled with it.

He lost his patience and just ripped the damn thing, effectively ruining the jeans. Then he wrestled out of them and kicked them to the floor with a huff.

“Right, your turn.”

Mari’s laughter ceased. But the amusement didn’t leave her eyes, and the cheek flush added a nice touch, Uriah thought.

He grinned. “I’m just kidding, baby. Only if you want.”

She gave him a tiny smile. She did want. But first, him. Yet she hesitated, lifting her hand and halting. “I don’t know how to touch you,”

“Want me to show you?”

Mari’s eyes darkened. Uriah curled his hand around hers.

He'd guided her in how to pleasure him, had surfed the waves of his love for her in blessed release, and now he was doing the same to her. Their bodies didn't fit together. But there were other ways in which he lovingly drove her body to maturity.

With his hand against all she was, her legs and arms came around him as shudders wracked through her. But again, Uriah felt her go rigid with nerves. And the rising crescendo of her moans lowered. She was losing momentum, and if he didn’t do something, she was going to lose the chance at release.

There was only one more thing he could do. His fangs elongated, and he bit her.

The nip of pain sent her over. His name sailed from her lips, and she shuddered against him, tightened around his fingers. He helped her ride out her waves.

She was spent. And surprised at the satisfied look on his face.

“You taste like strawberries and cream,” he claimed her mouth with a low growl. And in a small moment while their lips were apart, he added, “And I love strawberries and cream.”