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Stubborn witch.
When she had turned away from him, all he saw was a skirt clinging to her firm ass, begging him to lean her over and drive his cock into her heat. He hadn’t done it. Hence his nomination for sainthood.
A soldier from his unit marched by, waving for Roark’s attention. Like air from a popped balloon, the vision of Indigo crying out while he fisted her hips and fucked her from behind dissipated. “The general has been looking for you. Where have you been?”
“Am I answerable to my own warriors?”
The male blanched. “No, Roark. I didn’t mean to imply…”
“Forget it. Be cautious whom you challenge.”
When the soldier scurried off, Lort strode from a building, signaling the shifter to accompany him to his office.
Roark threw a mocking salute before ambling toward the Arisen Dawn general, the enemy of Scion Firebrands on the realm of Scath. Cerberus had handpicked Lort to lead the uprising which brought together pure Aeternals. Their goal was to subjugate humans, feed from them like cattle.
Lofty plans. Ambitious plans. Mankind as food for superior beings. Still, survival of the fittest had merit.
Roark sprawled into a chair, glancing around at the sterile office.
The lean-muscled vampire made an imposing picture in his black uniform, emblazoned with a half sun pushing above the horizon between mountains. He wore his cruelty as easily as his spiffy garb.
“Roark, where have you been?” Lort thrummed his fingers on top of his desk.
“To London to visit the Queen.”
“What?” The digit action paused.
“Nothing. I’ve been with a most amazing female.”
“As always.”
Roark shrugged. “Some of us are burdened with wit, good looks, and charm.” He crossed an ankle over his knee.
“Some of us are burdened with assholes who don’t know when to shut up. Cerberus has moved permanently into the garrison. He will meet with all unit leaders at 2100.”
“Gotcha.” Roark flipped his wrist to glance at his watch. “I have time to talk to the prisoner.”
“Like the others, he is without powers. I hope Cerberus is sure these Blood Coven descendants will be useful. They are nothing more than weak humans from what I can see.”
The Blood Coven descendants were central to Cerberus’s plans to rule all three realms. Some were his prisoners. Others lived in the Firebrands’ strongholds where they were protected.
“Remember the weak human females who slipped through your fingers, one running off and the other rescued?”
Lort bristled, stiffening his spine, six feet of lean, solid muscles, straight dishwater-blond hair resting on his shoulders. The frequent punch of fangs from his gums and his brown irises ringed with crimson bands marked him as feral, one in the throes of the bludfrenzy.
The vampire was an amazing testament to control, though. Despite suffering from the thirst which infected those of his breed who fed too much and too often, he maintained a cold, calculated reasoning. He claimed to have goals, once telling Roark nothing would stand between him and them, not even his blood needs. Rumor had it he kept a human slave to slake his hunger, giving the general firsthand knowledge of how mankind was sweet nourishment for Aeternals.
Obviously upset over Roark’s comment, the vampire flashed to the shifter, wrapping palms around his throat while he sank fangs into vein. With blood spurting into his mouth, Lort dropped his grip, backing away. He bent with his hands on his knees, upchucking on his shiny boots.
Roark rose, latching onto the general’s shoulder. “Problem?”
Lort glared at him. “You taste like shit.”
“I hear raven is disgusting. Still, didn’t think I’d make a vamp hurl. Guess I’m lucky, though. Otherwise, I would have been your blood buddy.”
The general stood, wiping a sleeve across his fangs. He glared. “Hear me good, Roark. You’re a great warrior. I’m willing to put up with your shitty remarks for that reason. Cerberus is not me. He doesn’t understand lip. Keep your fucking comments to yourself if you want to live.”
Roark fingered the neckline of his shirt. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
