Page 52 of Torn Between Two Worlds

He heard his brother’s chuckle and then felt the tap on his shoulder.

“Fucking hell, one day you're going to do that, and I'm going to slice your gut open for it.”

Jameson chuckled again. “You've been saying that for centuries. Notice I only do it when your ass is incapacitated?” He leaned over the counter, grabbed a knife out of the block and sliced across his bicep, flexing to help the blood flow. “Dinner's ready, hun!” He chuckled at his ridiculous joke and pushed his arm toward Stryder.

With a nod of thanks, he latched his mouth onto Jameson's arm and sucked down his brother’s blood. Three hard pulls and he let go of his arm. There was no sensation during the exchange, no tingling or queasiness, and he didn't suddenly feel stronger. The blood would work its magic slowly and off the radar as it restored Stryder to health. Wiping his mouth, he grabbed the dish towel off the counter for Jameson to tie the wound up with.

“Thanks.”

“You know, I'd never not, Bro. Ya think females would find it hot, though? I mean, with vamps, its straight sexual dude. Wonder if we could convince them it is for us too.”

“On second thought, give me that towel, bleed out a little, maybe some common sense will return to you.”

They both laughed. What he'd told Ciara was true. They were immortal as long as they could feed from each other when they were severely injured. Otherwise, well, immortal no more.

“Thanks again, Jameson.”

“Sure thing. Wanna catch up on anything? I mean, how can we be a part of our books if she isn't reading them, and they're not all written.” He shrugged. “Fuck it, let's live.”

“I think it has something to do with Ciara. I don't believe that this was the books, but how can we know if we don’t even know what the books include? I believe this was the world passing in an entirely different way. But she said it couldn't do that. Not that anything makes sense anymore. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but no. I need to get to Ciara. I told her I loved her, told her I was serious, and then told her that these summons never took that long. That was what, five, ten, twelve weeks ago?”

“If even, Bro. Could've even been more, my head’s always messed up after a summons. I blame the link to our dear old dads for messing me up.”

He sympathized with Jameson, his head was fucked from the permanent link with War, but more from the fear that Ciara wasn't going to remember what they had felt before the summons. He was certain she was ready to accept what being his mate meant, she had said ‘I love you,' that had to have meant she was ready. He groaned thinking about just how long it had been.

“She probably thinks I'm dead somewhere, and what if she decides to make a little trip into town and finds me shooting the shit with you before going to her? Nope, not a shot in hell. I've got a box with a giant sparkling ring to give her. Not wasting any more time.” He grinned, flashed the ring from his room onto the counter and popped it open.

Jameson whistled low. “No shit, man? Good for you. Go get her. I like her a lot more than I like you. If she was serious and wanted to be with you, well, fuck, man, even better. Not sure how you're gonna pull it off with the whole double worlds, but it'll be fun to root for you guys.”

He paled for a second. They'd never actually discussed it, the where and how. Didn't fucking matter, she loved him. She’d said it back, and no way she wouldn't choose him, regardless of where they had to live.

“Thanks. I'm out.” He grabbed the box off the counter and put it in his pocket before mentally calling the portal.

Fasheem had been the one to suggest trying it since they could flash. His grin was wide as shit when the doorway actually appeared. He'd have to remember to tell Fasheem that the focus for flashing worked like a doorway for him too, assuming that she wasn't just leaving it open willy-nilly for people to get her. Stepping through the doorway, he frowned when he saw she was out. Popping around to the few places he knew she usually was, he gave up and went to wait for her on her couch.

Eleven weeks. It was all he was thinking about as he waited for her to come home. Eleven weeks since he'd seen her. She was all that had been keeping him going, keeping him sane during the attacks. Thoughts of their last few minutes together had been like his rock, his savior.

Now, there he was, sitting down and waiting like a nervous schoolboy. He was confident she hadn't gotten a new Guardian, or worse, killed. Otherwise, he doubted he would be able to be sitting on her couch. Not that it wouldn't be some sick twisted game if she were, just that he didn't think so. Would she look any different? How happy would she be to see him? How long before he would drop everything and ask her to choose him, to marry him when she was twenty-seven. He had already decided he was giving up his world. One less Horseman's Second would make things more unbalanced, and he felt bad, but it was what it was. Mates came first. Obviously, he hadn't talked it over with his brothers, but they would understand.

His hand was tapping on his knee when he heard the front door creak open. His breath caught just looking at her. It was late spring, but there must have still been a chill in the air. A white sweater hood was bundled around her. She also wore jeans so tight, he could swear they were painted on and plain flip-flops that showed off some sparkly blue nail polish. She was beautiful, and she was too busy texting to see him.

“Ciara,” his voice came out harsh, too many days spent on the fields barking out orders.

Her head immediately jerked upright, and her mouth parted. Stryder was up off the couch and closed the distance between them in two strides. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her hard against him before his head lowered to kiss her.

She pulled her head back and put her hand up. “Stryder?” her voice held disbelief and fear.

Had someone impersonated him while he was gone, or was she afraid she was imagining him? “Fuck!” His growl was low and deep. He nodded and pulled her mouth to his with her hair.

Domination was the only word for the kiss. His mouth greedily sucked at hers, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth. For a moment, she was limp in his arms. Unmoving. All it did was make him push harder. He nipped at her lower lip and released her just long enough to tear the hoodie from her body.

“Mine.”

She trembled in response, and he picked her up, stalking quickly to the bed in the other room and dropped her down on it.

“All fucking mine.” Yanking at his pants, he tugged them off and tore his shirt above his head.

She sat on the bed staring at him, watching. “Is it you?”

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