A Sinister Game

  It took them a few minutes to secure a room. Victoria had to endure a few strange glances from the tavern keeper, or “inn keep,” as Anders had called him. But once Anders gave the man a warning glare, the inn keep tended to their transaction with quick efficiency.

  Anders walked her upstairs the door of the room she’d rented, opened it for her, scanned the room beyond, and then gestured for her to enter. It seemed strange to Victoria that he was so cautious, but she reminded herself that this was a different world, and she had no idea what most people were like or could expect.

  He waited outside the door as Victoria turned on the threshold to thank him one last time.

  “Think nothing of it. Get some sleep. I’ll have someone bring you a change of clothing in the morning.”

  Victoria glanced down at the downtime uniform she wore.

  “Whoever you are running from will no doubt question those he comes across,” Anders explained. “A physical description of you will be the first thing to leave his lips. So,” he smiled, “you’ll want to fit in.”

  “Anders….” She looked down, licking her lips before she went on. She’d never before been at someone else’s mercy for the basic necessities. It was uncomfortable to her, but the stranger’s generosity also touched her warmly. It gave her hope. “Anders, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. I don’t know why you’ve helped me, but you’ve been kind, and I’m very grateful.”

  Anders smiled and shook his head. “As I said little one, it is my right.” His eye caught sight of something near her neck. “That is a lovely pendant. Family heirloom?” he asked.

  Victoria looked down. Her gold locket shimmered in the flickering light of the candles set into sconces along the wall. It must have come out from under her shirt while she was running. “I…” Family heirloom? Something niggled at her memory.

  Suddenly antsy, Victoria slipped the necklace back under her jacket and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  Anders’ eyes shone. “I see,” he said, smiling easily. “Good night little one.” He turned and headed back down the hall, leaving her alone.

  Victoria closed the door and bolted it shut. She turned to the room’s interior and took it all in: One bed, one dresser, one window, and a rocking chair. That was it.

  She yawned and pulled off her leather uniform jacket.

  That’s good enough for me.

  * * * *

  Max watched the large man leave the tavern. He finished off the drink that was in front of him and then concentrated on the two coins a patron down the bar had left on the counter before leaving the inn. It was exactly how much Max himself would need to pay for his own drink.

  When the barkeep wasn’t looking, and he was certain that no one else in the tavern would notice either, Max telekinesed the coins into his palm. Then he plopped them onto the table loud enough to get the keep’s attention and pushed away from the bar. The barkeep turned and nodded toward him, bidding him a wordless good night.

  Max left the tavern, walked around the building to the alley between the tavern and what appeared to be a neighboring shop of some kind, and waited as his form melted from the rather scrawny appearance of a blonde man in the village clothing of a blacksmith’s apprentice to the tall, well-built team captain that he was.

  Then he turned and looked up at the second floor window above him. Candlelight flickered behind thin, gauzy windows. The slim form of a woman moved in front of the dancing light, casting an erotic shadow across the curtains as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Max’s blue eyes lightened into glowing ice.

  It was Victoria’s room. Max had spent the last hour watching her flirt with another man. Knowing that she was up there now, alone and undressed, did not hamper the dark mood he was in.

  For the second time that night, Maxwell Blood willed himself into invisibility. Next, he used another of his powers to move with blurring speed through the tavern and up the stairs just before the innkeeper closed and locked the doors for the night.

  While the man downstairs was busy shuttering the windows, Max knocked lightly on Victoria’s door. She gasped softly from beyond, no doubt surprised and wary about the unexpected interruption.

  He listened as she moved around hastily, most likely rushing to find something to cover herself with. And then she was at the door, her ear pressed up against it. He could tell that much.

  “Who is it?” she finally asked.

  Max opened his mouth to respond, but at the very last moment, he paused, reconsidering. Slowly, he closed his mouth again, and a strange smile curled the corners of his lips.

  Instead of responding, he lightly rapped again.

  Victoria was a very smart woman. On the Field, Max had always been awed by the skill with which she strategized her team’s next moves and was able to accurately predict their opponents’ moves as well. However, at the moment she was not herself.

  Perhaps it was the meal. Maybe it was her mad-dash run through the forest and fields beyond the Mare’s shore.

  Or maybe it was Max’s dark influence from his side of the door, where he sent a hard weariness coursing through his team leader’s veins, forcing a befuddlement into her tired mind and willfully erasing any lick of sense she’d formerly possessed.

  When she thoughtlessly opened the door to peek outside, he knew he’d been successful in his attempt to partially control her.

  Victoria had wrapped the sheet from the bed around her otherwise naked form. Max almost lost control of his invisibility when his glacial gaze was met with the creamy skin of her shoulders and the long, lean leg that peeked out from between the two ends of the white coverlet she so tightly fisted.

  She looked left and right, and not seeing anyone standing there, she sighed, rubbed her eyes with her free hand, and shut the door once more, slamming the bolt home with great, frustrated force.

  “I must be losing it,” she whispered to herself.

  Max’s strange smile broadened into something wicked.

  Victoria strode to the bed and dropped the sheet.

  Max’s entire body went rigid. Every muscle in his tall form flexed to the point of pain. His hands curled into fists at his sides. He forced one of them open and ran it through his thick brown hair, grasping a bunch of it at the roots because he had nothing else to hold on to. And the pain had a centering effect.

  She was breathtaking. The candlelight caused her skin to glow like warmed honey and crushed gold. She was under the effects of his power, tired beyond real reason. So she left her clothing and her sheet at the foot of her bed and crawled across it to finally lie down on her stomach at its center. What Max wanted to do in that moment was shameful.

  So many years, he’d worked beside her, and not once had he ever seen her like this. She was completely exposed, entirely vulnerable. Impossibly enticing.

  There was no hope for it.

  With a strong wave of power he never thought he’d be using on her, he sent her mind reeling into unconsciousness, forcing her body to follow. When he heard her breathing slow, he knew she was so deeply asleep that it would take more than a touch to wake her.

  He strode to the bed and solidified, his body once more claiming solid form. With glowing blue eyes, he gazed down at his sleeping leader.

  Just as light leaders possessed abilities having to do with warmth and fire, dark leaders had cold powers. It was a strange twist of fate that no one could completely explain. Why was cold considered dark and vice versa? Perhaps it wasn’t. Rather, it was most likely that the other powers dark leaders possessed were considered dark – wounding, invisibility, coma-inducing sleep, telepathy and mind control, true death – and the cold powers were simply along for the ride.

  Whatever the reason, a dark leader had to try very hard to hide the way his skin would become cold to the touch or his eyes would take on the look of glaciers. It was at the most stressful of times that these traits made themselves the most apparent.

  Like now.

  R
ight now, Maxwell Blood’s eyes were glowing like cold-fire lit ice from the northernmost reaches of the sea. He knelt until his face was near Victoria’s, that cold gaze trailing over her closed lids, their long lashes, her small nose, and her full, red lips.

  She trusted him. This beauty before him, so helpless to defend herself – she trusted him. She always had.

  Max forced his eyes shut and bared his teeth. Need was turning to pain within him, his fists clenched so tight now that his short nails were carving red moons into his palms.

  She trusted him and yet he’d used his powers against her in the most insipid fashion.

  Max exhaled shakily, opened his eyes again, and uncurled his fingers so that he could brush a long, golden lock of her thick hair from her lovely face. He tucked it gently behind her ear and stood.

  He moved around the bed, shrugged off his jacket, and unstrapped the sword from his back. He set them both to the side before he knelt on the mattress and carefully lay down beside her. Once he was settled, he forced his skin to warm once more, ruthlessly shoving his emotions back into the darkness from which they’d come.

  He felt the glow fade from his eyes and knew it was working. With great care, he drew Victoria’s body against his, his hands sliding around her small waist to span her stomach.

  Her body settled into his with blissful perfection, warming and relaxing. Max leaned over and breathed in the clean scent of her hair. Tenderly, he and placed a kiss on the top of her head. This much, he could do. This much, he would be able to explain in the morning.

  It was enough. For now, it was enough.

  His last act before joining Victoria in sleep was to telekinetically draw up the blankets from where they’d fallen on the floor and drape their thick warmth over them both.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was a sound, distant and muffled. Victoria felt cold. But there was material all around her. She could feel the weight of it over her body and there was no draft. Why was she cold?

  Now she recognized the sound as a knocking.

  With her eyes still closed, she shivered and hugged further into her own body, vaguely remembering…. She was in an inn. She’d come there last night. A stranger had bought her dinner and paid for her room.

  Someone was at the door to that room.

  Something shifted beside her. She stilled, suddenly uncertain. The smell of leather wafted over her. There was the sound of breathing, and it wasn’t her own.

  Victoria’s eyes flew open.

  “Red?” came a deep voice at the door. She recognized it as Anders.

  The depth of the situation suddenly hit her all at once, and Victoria screamed. The sound simply bubbled up and escaped as she leapt from the bed with untold speed. She spun to face the mattress and its other occupant even as the door behind her came splintering open with a cacophonous crash.

  Instinctively, she ducked, covering her head with her hands and using a telekinetic shield to protect her as shards of wood went sailing into the room.

  “Get back, little one!” Anders bellowed as he grasped Victoria’s upper arm and dragged her out of the way. As he did, she caught sight of who it was that had been in her bed.

  Max rose swiftly, coming alert with expert speed and scrambling out of the bed for his sword.

  As if to meet him half way, Anders lunged forward, clearly intent on clobbering the young captain with his bare hands.

  “Stop!” Victoria bellowed, raising her hands to hold them palm-out toward both men. She shoved her light leader power through her words and into her arms as well. The palms of her hands heated up, glowing a dangerous red-orange.

  The men slowed, hesitating a single moment before both gazes narrowed and they were moving once more.

  A second later, Max was hit with a wall of heat and thick, telekinetic air. It held him briefly, causing his expression to go from furious to uncertain before he was thrown back to slam into the wall behind him.

  The same thing happened to Anders, though Victoria could feel a little more drain on her powers when she directed them toward him. It was odd to her, since she’d thrown 200 pound weights into the training room wall and then melted them promptly afterwards without any trouble. But she couldn’t afford it any more time for thought.

  “Max!” she shouted, turning her attention to her captain and shooting him a very stern look. “Anders is a friend. He obviously thought you had ill intentions toward me.”

  Max opened his mouth to speak, but Victoria beat him to the punch.

  “Don’t talk!” she ordered. “The gods know you have a lot of explaining to do,” she said, thinking of how she was completely nude and he’d apparently been in her bed all night long. “But I don’t want to hear any of that explaining until I’ve had a chance to get dressed.”

  She blinked, realizing what she’d said. Gods? What are those?

  But, again, there was no time to spare anything any unnecessary contemplation.

  She turned to Anders, who pushed himself off of the wall he had cracked and looked at her with an unreadable expression.

  “The same goes for you,” she told the giant man. “Please leave and allow me some privacy.”

  There was a silence.

  “Victoria, you don’t-” Max began.

  “Captain Blood, get the hell out of my room and go downstairs to wait for me. That’s an order,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. Max dropped his sword arm and swallowed his retort.

  Victoria turned to Anders. “Now!” she added, truly wanting the men to simply be gone for the moment. She needed space and privacy. She needed time to damn well think.

  She watched as Anders smiled. He turned to the door and looked back over his shoulder at Max. He gestured to the hall beyond the broken door as he pierced Max with his dark, intelligent gaze. It was an “after you” kind of look.

  Max took the hint. He picked up his belongings and both men made their way out the door, each of them spearing the other with a warning glare.

  Once they were out of sight, Victoria ran to the bed and picked up the sheet. She was shaking as she hastily wrapped it around herself.

  She hadn’t wanted to go for it while the men were in the room. She felt like if she showed them she was uncomfortable standing bare before them, it would seem somehow weak. She felt they would look on it as if she were far too aware of her own feminine properties – and therefore, her weaker physical attributes.

  It was probably just Victoria being stubborn, but there it was.

  However now, she felt like crawling into some kind of hole and hiding there forever.

  She sat on the bed for a moment and tried to collect her thoughts. As she did, she noticed the bundle of clothes Anders had left outside of the ruined door. They were neat and folded, and she recognized them as the same manner of clothing the villagers here wore. Anders had obviously brought them for her as he’d said he would. That was probably why he’d been knocking.

  But it was pointless to change into them now. Max was dressed in a downtime uniform, and they’d just destroyed public property. It wasn’t as if they were going to leave this place unnoticed.

  There was no time to mess with something new and possibly uncomfortable anyway. Victor was out there somewhere, most likely very close by.

  Victoria bent and lifted her clothes from the floor. Using the same kind of telekinesis she used to heal wounds, she cleaned the garments and pulled them on.

  She was fully clothed and booted and fumbling with the last buttons on her jacket when the air seemed to shift around her. A light draft of cold air brushed past her face, causing several strands of her golden hair to tickle her cheek.

  Victoria froze.

  “Well, I must admit, that was worth the wait,” came a low, accented voice from the other side of the room.

  Victoria spun to face him, but this time, he was anticipating her every move.

  In one fluid motion, Victor Black solidified from where he’d been invisible, leaning against the
wall, and then rushed her. Victoria’s eyes widened, but the attack she’d rapidly planned fell short as his gloved hands encircled her wrists, grasping her tight. They spun, slicing through the air with inhuman, blurred speed, until he slammed her up against the wall, pinning her beneath him.

  Victoria’s breath caught as she was trapped between Black’s tall, hard body and the panels of polished wood behind her. She could barely breathe, and every time she did manage to inhale, she caught the scent of his leather and the smell of the soap he used. It was a heady, dizzying combination. She shuddered beneath him as he effectively restrained her wrists above her head and leaned into her so that his words whispered across her lips.

  “Blood is an idiot,” he told her in his wicked, perfect intonation. “Eight hours in bed with you and he never touched you.” He laughed a soft but harsh laugh. “You’re lucky it wasn’t me.”

  Victoria gazed up into that cold green gaze and was lost in the overwhelming power of him. Her mind swam. Her heart beat rapid-fire. Her breath hitched and caught and released in shallow, ragged streams.

  How had this happened? How had she suddenly wound up alone with her enemy, his strong body pressed so desperately against hers? And why in the world wasn’t she doing something about it?

  Set him on fire…

  Black shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. Such vicious thoughts, Victoria. They’re unbecoming on you.”

  Victoria’s heart hammered against her rib cage.

  “I….”

  He smiled, his gaze smoldering, and waited for her to continue.

  “I could scream,” she told him. She tried to swallow, failed, and tried again. “And they would come running.”

  Victor didn’t say anything to that.

  She bit her lip, and his glittering gaze slipped from her eyes to her mouth. He was pressed hard against her, so she felt it when every muscle in his tall, tone body went taut with what she knew in her heart was need.

  Need…. She felt the word and knew the sensation. She shared it. She was damned and falling into some kind of an abyss – but she shared it.

  “Give in to me, Victoria.” He let his gaze settle once more into hers and she experienced its cold, furious burn. It seared her like dry ice. She was sure he could see into her soul.