Stallion of Ash and Flame (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 15

  “Well, big fat hell, stud, you’re not protecting me now, are you?” she yelled, beginning time again. “And I trusted you.” Reproach owned her tone, but not the depths of her eyes, not much, anyway.

  “You should consider saving yourself, V’Trailuc, and your mate.” The commander played to his advantage. “She’s your only companion now. You won’t be welcome on your home world.”

  “Is that true?” she mouthed to him. Her eyes widened, aqua pools of compassion.

  “Reach into her pocket. Give me the device. Then persuade her to put the amulets back.”

  “You stole what was given to me in a sacred way.” She lashed out with her voice. “There are probably angry gods planning their retribution against you now.”

  The commander kept his gaze trained on Trail, and the net-freeze rifle never wavered a nano inch. Yet, he emitted a laugh, his bulbous eyes slitting for a second. Trail raced the few steps, gripped the weapon, and jerked it out of the commander’s hand. In the same motion, he clutched her against his side, and backed them up while aiming at the commander’s triple hearts.

  “Seneca, can you put the amulets in your pockets?”

  Instantly, she twisted at the waist, shoving them deep inside her jean pockets.

  “You won’t escape, V’Trailuc,” the commander arrogantly snarled. “Your pickup has been found and disabled of its extra capabilities.”

  “Liar,” Trail growled. “You don’t have that level of technology.”

  The commander sneered, the seam of his flat lips lifting at the corners. “We have fire.”

  Trail blasted the net-freeze rifle, imprisoning one of the psi-warriors in the cryogenic pulses. Dropping the rifle, he swiftly phased them, zooming upwards while avoiding the frequency arrows that were designed to destroy his ability to shift levels of energy. He zigzagged toward the translucent top of the dome, concentrating on their escape from the underground facility.

  Below he heard the commander snapping out orders to increase the shield against his phased form. He spread his awareness above them, testing the clear dome. Finding the weakest spot, he eased them through, and instantly psi-heard the rapid buzz. It was an army of gnat-sized flying drones, ready to attach themselves like feeding mosquitoes once he lowered the level of their phase to a density they could sense. Already part of the swarm flew in the direction of his pickup truck.

  Despite the menace of the drones, Trail flashed them above his pickup’s location. He couldn’t hold phase forever, not without risking them both. An enormous ring of flame ate hungrily toward the truck, but wasn’t close enough to do any damage yet. Psi-scanning for the enemy’s presence, he discovered the Fire Starter squad that had been waiting to ambush them. They were currently being pursued by the CIA team, along with three black helicopters that had been called in as backup.

  Trail beamed his awareness to her place, seeking a haven for her. Instead, he witnessed the psi-warriors waiting to attack them. They would bombard her mind with images and commands relentlessly if he left her alone. He scouted for a place to leave her while he shifted to stallion and absorbed the fire. The pickup was their best hope right now. And he would be hard-pressed to replace the advanced technologies he relied on for his mission.

  His mission, the portal. She had the key in her pocket to his world, or to a small sphere, a place that lived between the portal’s opening and his world. She could stay there.

  No. No, I won’t, he heard in his mind. She’d adapted to her phase body and now heard his thoughts.

  Seneca.

  Just put me down. Save the truck.

  There are vicious tiny drones coming for us.

  She paused an instant. Then you better be fast.

  Trail mentally shook his head, but sank downward. So far, his mate’s instincts and the outraged show she’d put on had served them well in battling the Fire Starters. Who was he to look his gift mare in the mouth? Lame, he thought.

  Lame, she agreed.

  Spying a particularly large tree with sheltering limbs upwind from the blazing circle, he materialized them at its base.

  “Whew, what a ride.” Her hand wiped her brow. “Get going, stud. I’ll wait for you here.” She gave him a little frown, then flung her arms around his neck. “Trail.” Once she’d squeezed him tightly, she stepped away.

  He whipped off his boots and his clothes while he swept his awareness over her body, making certain she was okay. At her nod, he ran toward the fire, his body shifting to stallion. In a few strides, he galloped full out through the sparse trees and lunged inside the raging blazes.

  Transformed into a horse of flame, he used his fire frequency to draw the savage licking heat inside himself. Feeding on the fuel, he raced a mad gallop through the inferno circle. In his wake, there was only an immense curve of cooling ash. He knew their Fire Starter enemies would use it like a signal to find them. They would also realize who had been stopping their firestorms, and the commander would demand his hide be nailed to his personal trophy wall.

  Completing the circle, Trail galloped around again through the blowing smoke and ash that remained in the air, searching for smoldering patches. With a plant of his fiery hoof, he absorbed the lurking flame, until he heard the plasma-driven vehicles of the enemy. Spinning around on his back hooves, he flash-fired toward Seneca, not changing into his stallion form. He could run more swiftly if he remained as flame.

  With the buzz of the gnat drones surrounding him, he streaked toward his mate. Subtly altering his blaze form to a lower density, he lured the sucking drones to land, then raised his frequency burning them to particle ash.

  Seneca’s defiant scream rent the air. Trail surged to a new fleetness of hoof, brought about by his wild need to protect her.

  She stood with her back against the tree, holding the amulets before her like a shield. Four Fire Starter warriors zoomed around her on their bullet-shaped air vehicles, seeking a way to capture her alive. When a single warrior snatched at her arm, she whirled, countering with one of the amulets. An arc of bluish light shot out, stabbing his hand. At the same time, she aimed the other amulet outward as a warning.

  He knew the warriors didn’t carry their exotic weaponry since the Watchers of the Intergalactic Federation would detect their improper use, often instantly, and send an enforcement team. Instead, they relied on brute force and their mental powers to subdue her. Either the amulets shielded her mind, or she was so enraged their mind-control attempts were failing.

  His own red-hot fury seized every molecule of him, and he charged the warriors. Slamming the solid flaming wall of his chest into the warrior about to circle in front of her, he gripped his shoulder with his fiery mouth, exploding his insides with a stream of fire.

  Careful not to touch her with his blazing form, he backed up fast, then reared, inviting the attack of the three remaining warriors. Changing course, they aimed their bullet vehicles at him, knowing their defensive plasma darts would weaken him. He whirled, lashing a hind foot out and catching the head of one warrior, sending him to the ground.

  Snaking his neck, he caught the warrior’s thigh in his mouth, leaving a massive scorch mark. Before they could deter him with enough darts, he spun like a dervish, striking out with his front hooves, pummeling and igniting their bodies. The warrior he’d knocked off never made it back on his bullet vehicle, and only jumped to his feet. Twitching his flame tail with fiendish speed as he whirled, Drojovv slapped the standing warrior several times, searing his entire body.

  Rapidly, the stench of burned flesh filled the air. The warriors’ determined attempts to contain him began to lessen. They circled a wider distance from him, looking for any method to defeat him. He charged after each one of them, nipping their flesh and viciously scalding them. Pivoting wildly, his hooves struck the nearest target.

  It didn’t take long for the two warriors still astride their bullet vehicles to turn tail. They hauled their fellow warriors on board and sped off. Drojovv chased after them, ferocious to con
quer his enemies. He only halted because of her, his Seneca. Galloping the short distance back, he reared in triumph before her, his hooves pawing the air, his flame a brilliance that awed her utterly. He could feel it in their connection.

  Landing on his front hooves, he gazed directly at her, observing his blazing image in the mirror of her wide eyes. She’d slumped to the base of the tree and still clung to the amulets. Her eyes remained huge and rounded on him while her jaw went slack, as if she didn’t quite believe what she saw, yet knew was real. He was real. Wonder lived inside her, alongside her total shock.

  Before allowing the slow transition into his stallion form, Drojovv sensed for danger. For the moment, they remained in the clear, and he could keep his gaze riveted on her. She drew her legs up a bit and let her fisted hands fall on her belly. Her gaze never wavered as he became flesh and blood horse.

  Lowering his head, he snuffled in her scent and gave himself time to quiet the battle fury still pouring through his veins. Remaining still, he fully savored all the smells of his mate and waited for her acceptance. When she straightened against the tree trunk, her gaze calmer on him, he moved toward her. She stood bracing her back against the tree trunk and shoved the amulets into her pockets. Slowly extending her palm to him, she invited his muzzle. He pressed her hand, blowing a kiss and nuzzling gently.

  “My stallion of flame,” she murmured. Stepping closer, she stroked her palm down his neck. “It’s one thing to believe in the unseen. To know the world is so much more than we’re allowed to see and know about. But I never, never imagined you.” Stretching toward him, she looped his neck with her arms hugging him with her sweetest heart.

  He snorted affectionately and talked to her with his horse voice, his own heart swelling with love.

  “What a stud,” she murmured, her tone a blend of seriousness and teasing. “Course, this doesn’t mean I totally forgive you for taking advantage of me, just to protect me.” She stroked her arms from him as she stepped back in that dance of her body that drove him to crazy lust.

  Cresting his neck, he shook his head, then sharply squealed his desire.

  “What am I going to do with you?” She folded her arms. “Shouldn’t we be making a getaway about now?”

  He nodded, then turned, positioning himself in front of her. Lowering his head, he performed a bow, so she could easily mount him.

  “I suppose it is faster than walking,” she drily muttered.

  Gathering up his clothes quickly, she bundled them beneath her arm and moved to him. Tentative at first, she threw one leg over him and eased her butt down while fisting his mane. Securing her seat, she gripped him with her thighs. “Okay, beautiful guy, I’m aboard.”

  Drojovv fluidly stood, rejoicing like the silliest of young studs. Feeling her firm seat and balanced body, he walked forward.

  “You can do better than that,” she encouraged.

  He snorted, gave a toss of his head and tail, and broke into a slow trot. With the urging of her thighs, he gradually trotted faster, then smoothly loped over the forest floor toward the truck. Her natural enjoyment of him as a horse thrilled through him like the boldest tidal wave. He didn’t dare yield to the ecstasy he felt because she was astride him. The perfection of her legs, the round soft mounds of her ass enticed his primal urge to mate. No, they would have been significantly delayed in reaching the truck while he seduced the hell out of her.

  His front hooves sank into the ash of the fire circle, and he sighted the pickup. Still sensing no danger to them, he didn’t break stride until they were close. In union with him, she straightened as he slowed his pace, halting next to the passenger door. Swinging her leg over his neck, she slid down his side and landed on her feet.

  Mentally preparing to become Trail again, he thrust his muzzle toward the door, indicating she should get inside. She’d already moved a short distance away, giving him room to shift to his human form. At her hesitation, he rapidly shook his head and neck, then thrust his muzzle again.

  She dropped his clothes, the lines of her body impatient. “Bossy stud.”

  Trail wisely backed up as she marched to the door, jerking it open. Hopping within, she slammed the door shut. Chuckling to himself, he gradually eased into the vibration of his human body, careful to align himself and to keep his chemical makeup in balance. Fight hormones still ruled his blood as a stallion and could interfere with his transition to human.

  The forest breezes wafted over his naked flesh as he dressed. She didn’t watch him, yet he’d caught her sideways glimpse when he bent over, picking up his jeans. More, he’d felt her hot-blooded appreciation of his assets. In their future together, he would put on a stud show for her, let her admire all of his human male attributes. Trail smiled.

  Striding quickly for his driver’s door, he entered in one motion and gripped the ignition key, then saw only darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Drop of Blood

  Illumination flooded the inside of the truck. He shot his glance to Seneca. She sat immobile, enveloped in the indigo-infused glow of light. She’d been placed in a state of temporary paralysis not caused by the light itself.

  “You haven’t delivered my request yet, V’Trailuc.” The Hjorior’s voice boomed through his particles.

  “No,” Trail telepathically returned. “We’ve been busy saving Earth from those who would plunder its gold.”

  In one tick of time, they stood before the Hjorior, inside a more welcoming area of his craft. Beams of pastel light created a beautiful sheen on the slightly curving walls. Trail pivoted, wrapping his arms around Seneca, bringing her close to his body. She blinked like an owl caught in the beam of a high-powered flashlight.

  “Successfully, I see by my overview of your adventures.” The Hjorior looked down his beard at them.

  “And just who are you?” Seneca demanded, her tone like a fuse about to be lit.

  “An ancestor of sorts, Ma’Blechiunna.”

  “What does that mean?” She fired her words full blast, then leaned back into his embrace. The strange reality of her situation had hit her.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “Ma’Blechiunna is a title of respect and endearment from the time before the recorded history of the Druids. Before the ancient way was contaminated with cult religions.”

  “Do you mean the blood sacrifice of humans?” she challenged.

  “Yes, that particular hideous abomination, and many other corruptions.” Stroking his beard rhythmically, the Hjorior gazed into the distance. “At another time I will show you more of your bloodline, little red hair. Now, I have need of your DNA, a specific gene.”

  “Why?” she bluntly asked, unaware she sank deeper into his embrace.

  “The gene pool of our current-day warriors has been diluted, their agility compromised, because of many acts of ignorance by those who decree how our future will progress. However, with this occurrence in mind, we placed genes in our human progeny.”

  “Human progeny?”

  “Our married copulation with the Daughters of Epona.”

  Trail flared inside, a savage jolt throughout his body. His Seneca’s bloodline went back to Epona, worshiper of horses, as he knew her status on Earth. Known as the Celtic Goddess of Horses in current-day history, Epona had been responsible for bringing the equine bloodlines that now lived in his veins.

  She whirled inside his arms. “What’s wrong?” Her gaze raked over his face with concern.

  “I believe the V’Trailuc has just discovered why you knew him, or smelled him as other humans do not.”

  “True.” He spoke to the astonished expression on her face. “Did you speak falsely before, Hjorior?” he formally addressed.

  “As a personal confession, no. I had not followed the logical line of thought. Your ancestral heritage to your mate’s ancestral heritage. Inefficient of me, indeed.”

  She shivered in reaction, though, he felt her quickly suppress her emotions. Still, she gazed at him for l
ong moments, her eyes enormous and shadowed. Not moving from him, she looked over her shoulder at the Hjorior. “How do I know you’ll use this gene in a good way?”

  “There is no method of convincing you. I ask because it would defile the good we wish to accomplish if I simply seize the gene.”

  Trail stroked her shoulder. “The Hjorior showed me where the amulets were taken. In return I was to ask you for the gene.”

  She nodded her understanding. “I don’t know the right answer. But somehow, it feels right. So, yes. As long as it’s not painful.”

  “One drop of blood is preferable. I promise the extraction is painless, little red hair.”

  “Make it fast. I’m not fond of losing blood, any blood.”

  “Present your palm, Ma’Blechiunna. It will be over swiftly.”

  Half-turning, she buried her face in Trail’s shoulder and held out her palm.

  With complete gentleness, the Hjorior cradled her hand in his, then placed one end of a small crystal tube in the center of her palm. Instantly, a drop of her blood, still blue, was captured in the container. Trail recognized the tube as a medical device with multi-uses, including the ability to replicate her blood as a hologram.

  “My gratitude, little red hair.” Releasing her hand as gently as he’d held it, the Hjorior walked a distance from them, placing the tube in what was known as a lock-hold box. Impervious to being opened by enemies, it acted like a loyal pet. “Perhaps, I can offer a token of my gratitude. What are your plans for the Anunnaki amulets?”

  “I have no clue.” She stared at her palm for any sign of a wound. Finding none, she lifted her gaze to Trail. “Any plans?” she asked.

  “Only for you,” he rasped. At her scowl, he looked above her head toward the contemplative visage of the Hjorior. “It would be dangerous to return the amulets to the cave, too many prying eyes on us.”