Eternal Guardian Read online

  Eternal Guardian

  By R.G. Alexander

  Eternal Guardian

  Published by R.G. Alexander

  Copyright 2011 by R.G. Alexander

  Smashwords Edition

  Edited by Alien Nookie

  Cover Art by R.G. Alexander

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book may not be resold or given away to other people.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  To Cookie—Love is the reason. For my Smutketeers Eden Bradley/Eve Berlin, Crystal Jordan and Karen Erickson and al our Smutkedettes. To Robin L. Rotham and Sam Saturday for al your help.

  And most importantly, to each and every reader who took the time to send me an email to tel me how much they loved the Children of the Goddess series, and to ask the same question over and over…much to my delight.

  “What happened to Max?”

  This story is for you.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  CHAPTER ONE

  His blood. The last thing he’d seen was the thick liquid of it spiling through his fingers and onto the ground that rushed up to greet him as he fel.

  Max clawed his way out of the engulfing darkness, toward the light of consciousness that beckoned just out of reach. It took al of his wil. He was surprised at how daunting a task it was just to wake himself. He hated surprises. They never turned out wel.

  It felt as though he’d been sleeping for weeks. Years. Such a deep slumber was one a true warrior rarely afforded himself.

  Never in fact. And Max was a warrior. Trained from infancy. His father had ensured, as he’d done with al the future guardians he mentored, that his son stayed ever as sharp as his blade, alert to any and al dangers. To protect himself and al those in his care.

  He roled onto his side and groaned at the effort it took and the pain that folowed. No sharp blade now. Max’s thoughts were more like blunt, heavy rocks, al of them faling toward the question of how. How had he been caught unawares?

  He searched for some clue of where he was, of whether or not he was alone. His eyes refused to cooperate, but he reached out with his other senses and heard nothing beyond his own rough breathing. Scented nothing but the cold, dank wals of the tunnel and his own blood. Had the god of the storm come back from his eternal prison to punish al those who had defied him? It wasn’t as if the Great Mother’s son hadn’t tried to kil him before. And this certainly had the taint of his kind of magic, the way Max could hardly tear his mind away from his dreams… such strange dreams.

  Images jumbled out of time and place. His childhood. Sparring with the other warriors. Training. His time with the Trueblood vampires.

  Amidst al those memories there were other visions. Visions of a place he didn’t recognize. Smoke and mirrors filed with life.

  And the woman. Always there, standing just out of reach, tempting him. Tormenting him with her beauty and the compassion in her eyes.

  At first Max had thought she was Jesse, the human raised demigod that he’d sworn in blood to protect. He’d wanted her for his own as soon as she came to Haven looking to see if the world of her dreams was real. Not that he’d ever stood a chance with her; she had always belonged to his best friend, Kittim. But this woman in his mind wasn’t Jesse. The redhead in Max’s dreams was far more fragile than the curvaceous photographer. Vulnerable.

  He shouldn’t be thinking of her. He should be attempting to contact Kittim. Kit. The friend he had shared so much with, the cousin he had faced down a god with. That’s what he should be thinking of. His oaths. His vows. He needed to get back to fulfil his duty. Protect them al.

  He just had to find out where he was.

  He pushed himself up to a sitting position with a low growl.

  His hands slid in fresh blood. His own. Had less time passed than he’d imagined? One hand reached up to his side, touching the wound that already appeared to be bandaged. His heavy lids finaly lifted and he saw, as if through a veil, the narrow passage that surrounded him.

  Every muscle in his body tightened and the hair on the nape of his neck bristled with instinct. This was not where he’d falen. It looked like it. Felt like it. Even smeled like it. But it was…wrong.

  More than his tended wound told him so.

  The disembodied female voice confirmed his suspicions.

  “You’re in no danger. But you’re also in no shape to protect anyone. Go back to sleep, my darling Maximus. Do not resist me; you stil need to heal.”

  Resist? It was difficult to imagine anyone being able to resist that voice. It was softly aluring, gently sensual. It was her. The woman from his dreams. Her words wrapped around him like a lover and when they stopped, al Max wanted was to hear her speak again. Cal him her darling.

  What the hel was wrong with him?

  “Where am I?” His voice was rough and rasping from lack of use, his throat raw. And where is she?

  Great Mother, he was in pain. He reasoned that he wouldn’t feel any pain at al if he were dead. That, at least, was a smal sort of consolation.

  He heard her sigh. Felt it like a breeze coming from the exit of the tunnel. A breath of fresh air. Perhaps she spoke from the entranceway. “I feel your distress. Trust me, please, Igigi, you are not dead and this is far from Hel. No one wil hurt you here. “ Igigi. He was Igigi , a member of an ancient and honorable race. Quite literaly giants in the world of men. He’d been a guardian for the Mediator of the Trueblood vampires, Zander Sariel. Only death would keep him from that duty. So if he wasn’t dead, then where was he?

  The last thing he remembered was the tunnel. Only that one was no ilusion. It had led from the woods toward the estate of the deranged Trueblood elder, Abaddon. Max had gone there searching for Deva Clan leader and newest council member, Nicolette. The Unborn vampire had been taken, though he wasn’t sure why, and he’d gone to retrieve her. He’d left the Sariel children within the protected confines of Haven to do so. He could stil remember the tinge of sadness he’d felt when he saw their sober expressions. They were too young to know so much worry.

  He’d sensed a single Shadow Were stalking him in the darkness. Strong but in no way stronger than he was. It should have been easy for him. He’d been in harder scuffles as a child. But something had happened just before the Were showed himself.

  Muttered words in an ancient language and a light, bright and blinding, had distracted him for a moment, alowing the Shadow to take Max’s sword and pierce his flesh, between his ribs and just below his heart. It had been more than disconcerting, seeing the sharpened steel he knew so wel emerging from his own flesh. But that injury shouldn’t have been enough to stop him. Yet, he could recal nothing after that.

  Max fingered the bandage where he’d been wounded. Had she cared for it? Could an insubstantial breeze that smeled of nutmeg and apple blossoms tend a flesh-and-blood wound?

  “The battle you would have fought is over. The Unborn you think of was lost, but the Shadow and his minions lost far more.

  They lost their leaders. The few that did not die scatter
ed to the winds. You are safe. Kittim and al your other charges survived. Be at ease.”

  Battle? Minions? He only recaled one Were. Had he missed a battle? “Be at ease? Every word you whisper on this wind makes me more determined to leave this place. “ More faces wove into the tapestry his mind was struggling to formulate. Zander and his wife Regina. The Sariel heir, Alexei, and Lux’s twins, Pax and Rhys. Even the aggravating yet beautiful Nicolette was his to protect. Al of them were under his protection.

  According to this woman, Nicolette was gone. He’d failed her. He had failed them al.

  He could not conceal his frustration. “Show yourself, woman. Why have you brought me here? Are you a servant of Baal?”

  “Baal has never held dominion in this place. And you are here because there was no other way.” The beautiful voice was distracting. Hypnotic. Dangerous. “You are so loyal. But far too stubborn. Do you know how many rules were broken to find you when you were?”

  She spoke so strangely. When he was, not where? A soft, feminine hand touched his chest. He could feel it, a hand that he could not see making his flesh come alive beneath its touch. Five fingertips and one smal, smooth palm creating a pleasure that eased the ache in his heart and soothed the worry in his soul. How did she do that with just a touch? And why couldn’t he see her?

  He wanted her to touch him everywhere, wanted to touch her in return. He placed his hand over hers and felt…nothing. His own skin and the light breeze he was coming to associate with her.

  His desire for answers was only a heartbeat stronger than his desire for her. “If you wil not show yourself, I demand you release me.” Her hesitation propeled him into action. He stood up slowly, unsteadily, determined to make his way out of the tunnel to whatever lay beyond. Each movement felt as though he were making it shoulder-deep in cement. It taxed him, and sweat poured down his face and neck, but he would not give up. It wasn’t in his nature. “Release me. I need to get back.”

  The sigh that drifted around him held a trace of melancholy.

  “That, I cannot grant you. Not now. Not yet. But I can promise you that you wil not be alone. I can give you more time to heal. I can ease your pain and frustration, and give you this.” Max’s body was puled back against the cool tunnel wals by an unseen force. Not violently, but inexorably. He couldn’t resist. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t lift a finger or move his lips to speak. She was casting some sort of spel on him. It was the only explanation he could find. He used al his wil to summon his own gifts, to return to true Igigi form. In the past, alowing himself to reclaim his size had healed wounds, and released him from enchantments as wel as physical bonds. But nothing happened.

  He felt nothing.

  The pain was gone as though it had never been. No hot or cold, no aches or the rough feel of the bandage on his injured side.

  The only sensation clear to him now was that touch. Her touch. Her heated palm moved lower, fingers tracing his ribcage as though fascinated by every ridge of hard bone and flesh. His awareness became hyper-focused on every inch of skin she touched, like a blind man whose other senses were magnified a thousand fold.

  He should be enraged at the force of her actions. Was he to be given no choice?

  As if he would push her away. If this was a spel it was one that ensured he had no desire to resist.

  The ghostly touch lingered over the muscles of his abdomen and he would have groaned aloud if he could have made a sound.

  Did she understand what she was doing to him? If she could hear his thoughts, sense his feelings as she seemed to be able to, then she must. What was she after? And why didn’t he want her to stop?

  He needed to focus. He should be devising a way out of this situation. Or at least discovering what the situation was, other than one vividly unusual erotic fantasy.

  But her touch. Great Mother, he’d never felt anything like it.

  “You are not a prisoner, but you must heal before you can move. If you enjoy this I can give you more. I can give you whatever you desire.”

  If he enjoyed it? Goddess, if he enjoyed it any more, he’d shame himself.

  He heard the trace of uncertainty beneath the sexual offer.

  She was nothing at al like the free-spirited Jesse, who’d performed for him, gazed into his eyes as Kit took her. Yet the innocent words and hesitant fingers aroused something in Max. Something primal and aggressive. Whatever he desired, she’d said. Giving him control even when it was clear to them both that he had none.

  He would take it.

  Since his mystery woman could read his mind, he would send her an image that would make any corporeal female blush. He wasn’t sure what it would do to an elemental. Was that al she was?

  Air and ilusion? He couldn’t believe that. Oddly, the mere idea angered him. That he would not be able to touch her in return. To face her, to see the woman who dwelt in his dreams.

  Max sent her a visual of what he wanted. Raw, graphic pictures of things he imagined her doing. So detailed that his own arousal intensified to a near painful degree. The wind shivered. Her response? The fingers on his hip trembled. Yes, she had seen.

  Would she respond?

  The back of her knuckles stroked his inner thigh, his naked inner thigh. More proof that none of this was real, since he was sure he’d been dressed when he’d falen. Her touch moved higher.

  Closer to the place he most wanted it. Needed it.

  His internal howl of impatience turned to one of pure pleasure the instant her slender fingers gripped his erection. Yes. He could feel that; the pulsing hardness, the pleasure and pain that he’d been longing for.

  Need—physical and real—slammed into him. His every thought now, his whole world, was centered on that one blood-flushed shaft of flesh. It grew beneath her feather-light touch, and she added another hand. He heard her gasp as his skin sweled further and burned hotter in response.

  His heartbeat pounded out a tribal rhythm in his cock, beating out its demand against her silken skin. Damn it, if this was his fantasy, why couldn’t he move? He wanted to lift his hips, to thrust inside her tight grip and find satisfaction. He wanted to slip his hands into the sunset-colored locks he’d seen during his long sleep and twist until it tangled around his fingers. He wanted to tug her head down gently, to feel her open mouth on him.

  He heard a sharp inhalation, and then she was there, lips pressing soft, curious kisses on the head of his cock, down the length of it. Yes. Goddess, yes, but she had to…

  The instant he thought it she obeyed. With closed eyes he could see her lifting and lowering her head, her mouth open around his erection. That mouth—it was the perfect combination of ful lips and agile, inquisitive tongue. She was perfect.

  Who was she? Why was she giving him what he wanted so readily? The desire was almost more than he could bear, but the part of him that was a Sariel guardian—the part of him that always watched, alert for danger—remained. And it was suspicious.

  Kit and Jesse had shared carnal dreams for years, but that was because of what she was, not because of Kit’s ancestry. Igigi did not dream walk. They did not mate.

  He recaled, as he had far too often before those damned tunnels, that Jesse had done this to him. Pleasured him with lips and tongue while Kit looked on. But it hadn’t felt like this. This woman was making love to his cock with a mouth that was tender and greedy, driving him wild with the need to claim her. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He wanted more than anything to lose himself to it, but he couldn’t let it go. He had to know.

  Who are you? Where am I?

  The sinfuly sensual mouth lifted from his skin and spoke as he silently moaned in protest. “You leave me no choice, Maximus. I wanted to… But you aren’t ready yet, are you? For any of this.

  Sleep. Sleep now and let your cares fade. We have time.” She watched as her words and the power behind them took the Igigi forcibly back to his slumber, sliding him down the wal until he was slumped in a sitting position. He would wake soon
enough.

  Stronger and more stubborn than before. Perhaps by then she could regain some of her composure.

  How could she have lost herself to his thoughts so quickly?

  She had always been drawn to the handsome young Igigi, but tending him, hearing him in her mind, having him so close and yet stil just out of reach, was more than she’d expected.

  She studied the dark, shoulder-length hair that fel down to his shoulders and forward, hiding a portion of the face she’d long ago memorized. His strong features, the sharp cheekbones and square jaw she’d grown so familiar with, were softened only slightly by sleep. He was young, only a few thousand years by Earth standards. Far too young for her to have grown so enamored of him.

  Yet it was difficult not to admire him. He was so massive, even in this state. Tal and broad-shouldered when he stood. Even now, unconscious and weakened by his condition, his muscular form made her heart stutter in awe.

  As an Igigi, he could attain an impressive size. In truth, he was gifted. He could already reach heights wel beyond others of his age if he chose. It was an ability he had mastered while training on his own, and his potential appeared limitless. His closest companions had no knowledge of his actual strength, and Maximus had no desire to let them in on his secret. He always stood on the sidelines, content to let his friend and cousin lead the Sariel guard.

  Content to remain in Kit’s shadow. His honor and integrity were too deeply ingrained for him to do any less.

  But he could never hide his power from her. She had always seen it. Max was, quite possibly, the strongest Igigi warrior alive. He would have to be.

  And, in her opinion, he was also the most beautiful.

  Her cheeks heated as her gaze roamed his chiseled body and the erection stil hard against his muscular stomach. She’d touched him…tasted him.

  He’d liked it. She could hear it in his thoughts, as clearly as if he were whispering in her ear. He’d more than liked it, despite his suspicion. And so had she. But stil, he’d managed to resist, where she had lost al control of herself. She had always admired his warrior’s restraint…until now.