Moon of Fire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Moon of Fire

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-674-8

  ©Copyright Aliyah Burke 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2015

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.

  Astral Guardians

  MOON OF FIRE

  Aliyah Burke

  Book six in the Astral Guardians series

  Sometimes the end is really just the beginning…

  Dracen Lloyd is the final Guardian looking for her artifact. Believing she’s a danger to her brethren, she leaves the vineyard to seek solace. What she finds is a man named Lucas Kyle.

  Luc isn’t quite sure how he got to where he did or who this woman is who saved him. All he knows is the craving he has for her eclipses everything else. The longer he’s with her, the more he falls. Will he be able to remain in her life, or will circumstances take him from her before he’s ready to let her go?

  Dedication

  To everyone who made this possible for me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Dungeons & Dragons: Wizards of the Coast, Hasbro

  Velcro: Velcro Industries

  H&K MPS: Heckler & Koch

  Girl Scout: Girl Scouts of America

  Oscar: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

  Beretta: Beretta Holding S.p.A.

  SIG: San Swiss Arms AG

  Škorpion: Česká zbrojovka Uherský Brod

  Smoke Gets in your Eyes: Otto Harbach, Jerome Kern

  Desert Eagle: Magnum Research, Inc.

  The parts to waken the world’s hope have been scattered far and wide to the winds and throughout the stars.

  It is from there the chosen ones are marked, becoming Astral Guardians.

  Alone their individual defeat has a greater chance than when paired with the amaranthine and genuine love of their mate.

  Those Guardians must find, defend and bind the pieces to call forth the hope of the world.

  It will take courage, strength, love and sacrifice.

  If the Guardians fail, swift death will arrive to the one who calms the beasts.

  With this outcome, the world shall descend into darkness, chaos and anarchy.

  Chapter One

  The wind howled through the bare trees, clacking frozen branches along one another, much akin to bugs scrambling to get purchase on a smooth surface. A tiny sliver of moon cast a weak, pale glow over the snowy landscape. Desolate. Empty. While no snow currently fell, the chill couldn’t be ignored.

  Footsteps crunched through the crusted snow as a lone figure strolled to the farthest point of solid land before more of the bogs of the Boundary Waters began. Blood dripped from the razor-sharp blades of her tanto and katana. The sword rested against the sleeveless top of black leather, blending in since the metal was the same color. The tanto hung from the woman’s right hand.

  Dracen Lloyd ignored the bitter cold, oblivious to the sting of her own injuries and her exhaustion. Her gaze remained sharp as she scouted for more of the dammed. The demons were relentless. Now isn’t the time for me to relax. Others were near—while she might not be in visual contact with them, she had no doubt they lingered and approached.

  How she possessed the knowledge, she couldn’t say. Since she’d accepted her role as a Guardian, she’d devoted her time and energy to being the best she could. It had taken its toll on her. She no longer felt. Anything. Not even empathy toward her foster siblings.

  Ice coated her heart and soul. Even now, pain was nothing more than a word. She bled. This she accepted as fact. She comprehended there should be pain. There wasn’t.

  She slowed her breathing, scenting the air in order to pinpoint where the vile demons were. With slow and methodical movements, she flexed her fingers—tacky with blood—on the hilts of her weapons.

  Her powers were growing. Her understanding of everything occurring was slim. Every aspect of her life had evolved with such swiftness. She’d left the vineyard, that she was a danger to them flashing in the corner of her mind.

  They were all happy. Even Tiarnán, the one she had been closest to. She’d smiled at the appropriate times but hadn’t ever been at ease or relaxed. Tiarnán had been aware something was up and she accepted she would have to face him at some point.

  Whatever. First we have to survive the prophecy.

  One person had a way of contacting her and that came with a strict stipulation. Only if Lian passed. She was certain she would feel if he did, but Altair was her back up.

  The wind pierced her exposed skin with the efficiency of Inaki’s well-honed, handcrafted blades. She never flinched. The sensation was odd, not painful. The demons were closer now. Her fingers flexed again, almost with a mind of their own. She could call forth more weaponry—non-blood coated. She didn’t.

  More blood would spill this night, no matter whether or not her blades were covered already. To the left came a new sound.

  Her mind worked feverishly to work it out. Human? Who would be out here at this hour?

  She struggled with her conscience before diverting all her attention to the sound. Deep down she knew her response to this noise should be alarm and concern. As she was, she didn’t care.

  I’m losing my humanity.

  For that reason, she set out to investigate. Grip tight on her weapons, she lengthened her stride, narrowing the distance between her and her new goal. Using the trees, she stuck to the shadows, aware of how efficiently she blended into the landscape.

  A man, barely hanging on, took on four others. She slid from the darkness that had hidden her, sen
ding her knife into the temple of the demon disguised as human, coming up behind the man. It dropped instantly and she had recalled the blade before the other three knew what happened.

  “Guardian,” one trilled in its hissing speech as it dodged a strike from the true human.

  Impressive this human has held out this long. From the looks of his staggering body, he was nearly finished. Blood poured from numerous wounds and in the miniscule light she made out older scars below the red staining his skin.

  A fighter.

  She gave only a single thought to warn them away but ultimately decided not to. Without a word, she set out to kill the remaining demons. The moment her tanto and katana flew on a direct course for the two creatures farthest from her—her knowledge of the demons allowed her to have already made the adjustment for their expected counter—she called up a serrated chain and sent the loop out over the nearest one’s neck.

  One strong pull lifted the creature off his feet, yanking him to her and keeping the human out of harm’s way. If it was a firebreather there wasn’t any way for it to take the necessary breath to spew its flames.

  The male didn’t sink to the ground, relieved by her saving him, he remained on his feet and went to her weapon in the neck of the hellspawn closest to him and ripped out her katana. Their gazes met in the dim light and she saw his dark eyes—she would have assumed they were black if not for her sharp vision that picked out the hint of green.

  Anger strummed along the air between them. She brushed him off and returned her attention—most, not all—to the demon.

  “Who are you after?” she demanded.

  “Fuck off, Guardian.”

  His derision meant nothing. She lifted her gaze and met the true human’s again. With barely any effort on her part, she tightened the links around his throat, severing his head.

  Acidic blood hissed as it landed on her skin but she ignored it. Without slowing, she strode toward the man. She held out one hand, her tanto returning to its spot in her left.

  “Who are you?” she issued the question.

  He stood taller than her by a solid five inches. Harsh contours created his face. His nose showed signs of having been broken more than once. Thick eyebrows slashed over dark eyes, giving him more of a rugged appearance.

  He stiffened and there was no way to ignore his assessment of her. She allowed it, being as she did the same to him.

  “Do not make me repeat my question.” Her tone had grown colder.

  His gaze tingled something in the back of her mind. He looked down his nose, opened his mouth, and collapsed in a heap.

  Well, shit.

  Casting out with her power, she sought demons. While more still hunted her, for the moment she was safe enough.

  You can’t leave him there. He’ll freeze.

  Scowling at her conscience’s reminder, she angled her head to spy behind her. The haze from her sign sprawled over and beside her in an impressive display. Dragon wings hung low, clawed tips cut through the snow’s crust.

  Weapons stored, she made her way to the man lying in the snow. She got him back to her cabin and laid him on the sofa. The cold had slowed his blood flow but she understood she needed to patch him up. She racked her mind for the best way to help him. She grabbed blankets.

  Get him naked.

  Words with different meanings to her. She approached him, crouched beside him and called forth her tanto. The next second her wrist was gripped in an iron-clad hold and her gaze was snared by dark forest green eyes. His swift reaction impressed her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I have to get you out of your clothes.”

  She swore he grinned.

  “Never let it be said I didn’t cooperate with a beautiful woman who wanted me naked.”

  She sliced through his shirt, ignoring how his touch remained. “I said ‘have to’, not ‘want to’ get your clothes off.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She relinquished the knife to his hand as she tore off the soaked material. Then, without paying much attention to his broad chest, she worked down his pants. His cock lay against his thigh and she kept her gaze on her own hands. Once he was naked, she reached for the first blanket and covered him.

  “Knife.”

  “Please?”

  She blinked and recalled her tanto. Then it was his turn to blink.

  “Where’d it go?”

  She unfolded another blanket and covered him. “Rest.”

  “Body heat is the best way.” His words were rough and raspy.

  She flicked her attention to his groin before moving on to meet his gaze. “I could have left you out there.”

  “May have been better if you did.” His thick lashes lowered to rest upon his cheeks, all teasing gone from his tone.

  Dracen busied herself in tucking more blankets around him. She sent a wave of healing heat through him. Not much, but it’s the best I can do. I don’t have Cale’s ability, plus he’s not a Guardian.

  After he was covered and his shudders had lessened, she drew up the ottoman and balanced a bowl of warm water on her knee. A soft rag was submerged in the liquid and the window rattled with the pounding sleet. Another storm had kicked up.

  She tipped her head to the left and studied him. Intrigue filled her. Shaking off the uncommon emotion, she grasped the rag and squeezed out the excess water before cleaning off the drying blood on his face. Blood removal was imperative before she added the salve to extract poisons. He didn’t stir as she worked down his body with methodical precision, only exposing areas she tended.

  The hardest moments for her to remain detached was as she cleaned the cut on the inside of his thigh. Her actions required her to move his shaft. He’s well built.

  For the first time in a while, she was hit with the stirrings of desire for a man. She shoved them away and got back to it.

  Tending all his injuries took her well over an hour and she was exhausted. Her sign had been doing its part to heal her injuries but she needed rest. Long, undisturbed rest.

  That won’t happen, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Her guest didn’t appear as if he’d be going anywhere, yet she still pushed the other sofa to the one he lay on, so if he did roll, he wouldn’t fall on his injuries. Then she walked back toward her bedroom.

  That was when she heard it. Weapons slid seamlessly into her palms, easily replacing the cloth she’d held. Her sign shifted, its agitation blatant and ready for battle, as was she. Without the slightest hesitation, she ran for the door and back outside into the cold darkness.

  * * * *

  This time when she returned, she understood she could no long ignore her need for rest. Even so, she checked on her ‘guest’ before she made her way to the bathroom. Her leather stuck to her open wounds but she ignored the pull of flesh as she removed her attire piece by piece.

  Turning the water on as hot as she could manage, she stepped beneath the spray. She stared at her feet, mind blank as blood and water pooled around her toes before vanishing down the drain. When the water ran clear without more than a slight hint of pink, she cleaned off the sweat.

  Soreness remaining, she shut off the water and stepped from the tub. Dracen stretched for the large gray towel hanging on the peg and wrapped it around her before heading for her bedroom.

  One light illuminated the room with a soft glow. She padded over to the bed and reached for the black shirt folded on the edge. Before drawing it on, she paused. The curtains were closed and her sign had settled.

  She released the tuck and allowed the towel to slip to the heavy rug protecting her feet from the cold floor. Pulling her hair forward over her left shoulder, she dropped her chin to her chest, climbed onto the bed and closed her eyes. Tired, I’m so tired.

  * * * *

  Needles pierced his body, excruciating, agonizing, and it took all his training to remain silent. Lucas Kyle struggled to even his breathing out.

  Where am I? Iraq? Afghanistan? Chechnya?

  He listene
d. No sounds of people, but a low roar of winds was out beyond the walls. His body had many blankets on it and he flexed his fingers, hoping movement would return swiftly.

  He worked his limbs slowly, all the while trying to recall his situation and where he was at the current time. No one stopped him as he forced himself to a sitting position.

  Fuck, I’m naked. He couldn’t pull anything from his memory banks. There was also some form of salve on the numerous wounds he sported. So someone took care of me. Putting the couch here so I don’t fall.

  A fire burned behind him and he cautiously rose to his feet, avoiding the blockade by the sofas. A bit wobbly, it took a few moments to get his bearings. A bloody rag by his feet turned out to be the remnants of his own shirt.

  A woman, dripping blood. Face a cold mask of emptiness. Blades in each hand, also dripping blood, were as extensions of her body with the ease she held them.

  That was it. All he remembered. Couldn’t see the face of the woman. Wrapping a blanket around him, he bent to pick his tattered shirt up, using the sofa arm to steady himself. Where are the rest of my clothes?

  He made his way around the furniture and found his pants and boxers drying on a chair. Still bloody. His socks were on the floor near the fire.

  The cabin he stood in was sturdy, keeping the cold sleet pounding the windows at bay. He peered out of one window to see nothing but the white hitting the glass.

  A glance in the fridge alerted him to the very good chance they were in America. There was still no indications of how many were staying here.

  I don’t like this.

  Lightheaded, he searched for some water then guzzled it, unmindful of the streams pouring out of the corners of his mouth. He drank two glassfuls then placed the glass on the countertop. He stared at his reflection in the window and saw the bruising and cuts.