Ryssa Edwards . . . It's a romance thing . . .: Silver Flash

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Welcome to this week's Silver Flash . The prompt this week was, "Wouldn't that be romantic?"

Here's the last chapter in Brody and Marek's story . . .

Broken Promise, XII

“Can you read lips in the dark?” Brody said. “No.”

Marek made Brody walk behind him. At the mouth of the tunnel, armed warriors waited in a ring of deadly impatience. A black Jeep Cherokee hulked behind them. The wheels went well past Brody’s knees. A warrior opened the back door. Marek ushered Brody inside, hurrying him without quite pushing.

“Where to?” Greyson said from the driver’s seat.

Brody was relieved at the sight of the half-breed. He’d been scared Greyson might have been a casualty in the fight.

His arm around Brody, Marek said, “Home.”

“I thought you lived here,” Brody said. He found himself undoing Marek’s shirt. He wanted to rest his face against him, skin on skin. Marek moved to let Brody press closer and wrapped both arms around him.

“I rule from here,” Marek said.

Brody had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. “Who was at the door?”

“Renegades,” Marek said, smoothing his fingers through Brody’s hair. “Vampires who don’t accept me as their king.”

“What do they want?”

A short, humorless laugh came from Marek. “As Julian would say, ‘before or after they take off my head’”?

A shiver went through Brody.

“Just less than two centuries ago, I battled the reigning king and won. A small number of his warriors remain loyal to him.”

“They didn’t sound like regular vampires,” Brody said, remembering the snarls and growls outside Marek’s door.

“They were bred to be ruthless fighters. It backfired. They have more fighting instinct than thinking mind. Their numbers dwindle with every uprising.”

“They’ve come to your house before?”

“Many times,” Marek said.

“What did you do?”

“I led Julian’s mercenaries and my warriors into battle against them.”

“But this time?”

Marek tilted Brody’s head back for a soft kiss. “I couldn’t risk you. Your scent was maddening to them.”

“You left because of me?”

“Would it be any other way?” Marek seemed surprised. “You’re my mate. I would die defending you.”

Brody rubbed his face against the smoothness of Marek’s chest, and kissed down his hard belly, licking softly.

“My heart,” Marek said in a deep voice ragged with hunger. “You will wait.”

The moment the command slipped from his lips, Brody felt his lover tense. He slid his hand between Marek’s legs. “What?” Brody pressed his soft lips to the cloth of Marek’s suddenly tight pants in tiny kisses. “That sounded like you were ordering me around.”

Between panting breaths, Marek said, “No, my heart. I wouldn’t do that.”

Brody laughed against his trousers, making Marek jerk his hips upward. “Yeah you would.”

“No more,” Marek’s voice was low, almost begging.

“You want me to stop?”

“Brody.” No doubt about it. The king of vampires was begging.

“What?”

“Two,” Marek said.

“Three.”

“Very well.” Marek groaned. “Yes.”

With that small word of surrender, Brody let Marek pull him close for a hard kiss. Three long nights. No interruptions. No king business. Just him and Marek and all the pleasure a vampire could lavish on his mortal lover.

***

A week had gone by since Brody had come to the castle. He didn’t know what else to call it. They were high in the mountains of Tennessee in a sprawling mansion that had turrets and towers and warriors armed to the fangs.

Marek had given Brody four nights. They had gone by in a whirl of maddening desire that Marek had teased to a merciless fever pitch until Brody writhed under him in an agony of lust and need.

Now, watching Marek spar with Julian, both of them naked to the waist, Brody could hardly believe the vampire king was his mate. In a low fighting stance, his knees bent, thick arms raised, his muscled body was just short of terrifying. He dropped Brody a slow wink that brought back memories of the long nights of slow loving. Brody’s knees went weak.

Julian’s leg snapped out in a lightening quick move that landed on Marek’s belly. He grunted.

“Focus, brother,” Julian said. “Don’t make me kick your ass in front of him.”

Marek made little “come on” gestures with his fingers. They both had hints of smiles on their hard faces. Sparring like this was the vampire brothers’ version of quality time. They loved it.

Greyson came in and carefully stood to the side of the vampires. They were moving so fast, they were blurs. The heavy thud of fleshy hits made a staccato, tireless rhythm. “Julian. Phone call. It’s from New York.”

Julian blurred into being, sweat pouring down his face, and took the phone from Greyson. “No. Nothing important,” he said, still breathing hard. “You all right?” He paused, listening. “Who’s following you?” Julian paced, his lithe body tense. “No. Don’t find out who it is.” He glanced at his brother. “Just stay where you are. I’ll be there,” he said, and ended the call.

Taking the towel Grayson offered, Marek said, “It’s the reporter, isn’t it?”

“Don’t start.” Julian got his own towel from a low stool near the mats.

“How long before he finds out what you are?”

“He doesn’t have to know.” Julian avoided his brother’s eyes.

“If he finds out, you will take him for your mate.”

Julian’s face hardened into fury, then relaxed into what Brody thought of as his don’t mess with me and you won’t die look. “Wouldn’t that be romantic? ‘Skylan, now you know. I’m a vampire. Let’s fuck.’” He shot Marek a look that would have made a mortal tremble. “I’ll let you know how that works for me.” He stalked out and slammed the door so hard, it bounced open.

“I fear for him,” Marek said, looking after Julian. He turned to Brody with a slow smile. “I need a shower. And ever since you’ve been in my life, I hate taking them alone.”

Brody was on his feet in an instant. Marek swept him into his arms and ran up the castle stairs three at a time, nearly flying.

****Stay tuned. Julian's story starts next week . . .

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