0 comments/ 2834 views/ 0 favorites Dane By: Mourningstar564 Prologue Sunlight poked through the cracks of the window shutters; glittering rays dancing across the tower room floor's cold grey stones. Fioraluna hadn't opened the shutters, unable to stand the sight of another perfect day. The scene would be the same as always—the tall grass in the field rolling and swaying in the breeze as well as the deep green forest that spread beyond. The trees always danced and whispered amongst themselves making Fioraluna envy them. They were surrounded by their own kind and never lonely. Not like her. Fioraluna only knew her mama. Outside her window, she would sometimes catch glimpses of wildlife, and if she were lucky enough, once every few years, humans brave enough to chance mama's wrath to appease their curiosity about the castle ruins. Fioraluna tried to sigh, but couldn't quite get enough breath into her starving lungs. The brace mama insisted she wear to keep her abnormal swelling down pinched her hips and constricted her ribs. It hurt. With a cry of anger, she tore at her golden frock, peeling it down to her knees, and unlaced her brace. The cool damp air of the tower caressed her naked upper body, making her nipples peak tightly. Tossing the offending brace aside, Fioraluna rubbed the ache, letting her head fall back with relief. Rubbing always felt nice...pinching too. The sharp little sting of pain made her feel alive, made the area between her thighs ache. Fioraluna's fingertips closed on her nipples slowly and hesitated. If mama saw her, she'd beat Fioraluna, call her naughty. Mama said that touching her body was what had made her sick. Her chest had swelled up into two ugly bumps and once a month she bled between her legs. That was really scary. She didn't enjoy the dull ache she'd feel in the pit of her groin those days either. Choking back a sob, she crawled across the rough stones of the floor into the lap of one of her life sized dolls. A flood of tears bathed her cheeks as she wrapped the cold rubbery arms around her. "Mama said the villagers wanted to hurt me. Why?" Her breath hiccupped as her fingers gripped the dolls frock tightly and burrowed deeper against the lifeless doll. She imagined her doll, Lila, kissing the top of her head, patting her back and telling her it would be all right. "Why would they want to hurt me? Why am I sick? Why can't I stop being naughty?" She sniffled, feeling shame in the enjoyment she felt exploring her body, and the pleasure in the spankings afterwards. Mama had tried to scare her saying the villagers would come get her, tie her up, and take a switch to her bare ass. The thought both frightened and excited Fioraluna, much to Fioraluna's chagrin. "I'm naughty. I'm a bad girl and I'm ugly. Mama said so." She cried until, weary from grief, she dozed off. A little mouse scurrying over her foot woke her. Fioraluna jumped with a gasp and looked down. Squeaky looked up at her, whiskers twitching. "No food today. Mama hasn't been by in a long time." Squeaky scurried away into the darkness and returned with two more mice, Twitchy and Speedy. They dragged a tiny sack between them to her toes and sat back on their haunches, their beady little eyes glowing up at her. Fioraluna reached for their gift with a smile. Within the hand-sized woven sack were nuts. She squealed with delight, her tummy rumbling in anticipation. "Oh, thank you." The three mice squeaked their replies and scurried away into the darkness again. After eating the nuts, Fioraluna pulled her dress back into place, ignoring the brace. Let mama find her with her lumps swinging free. Perhaps if she were disobedient enough, mama wouldn't leave her for such long periods of time. She decided to practice her Echize di' Drakkur, or Dragons Lure. Mama told her she needed to practice. Lifting her dress to bare her knees, Fioraluna crawled upon the floor to where she could see the outline of her bench before the closed window shutters. She enjoyed the cold rough feel of the stones against her skin and would sometimes roll around naked upon them. Of course, that would only lead to her wanting to touch herself so she avoided doing it. Naughty, dirty girl—she mentally chastised herself. She gave a little bleat of pain mingled with surprise when she smacked her head against the bench. Rubbing her sore forehead with one hand, she reached out with the other to feel around for her golden flute. Cold, hard metal met her searching hand. Wrapping her fingers around it, she brought it up to her face and nuzzled the long golden flute lovingly, shuddering at the feel of cold steel between her lips and teeth. Fioraluna took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and blew. Soft lilting music filled the air around her and echoed throughout the chamber. Closing her eyes, she envisioned a beautiful golden dragon soaring through the sky, his scales gleaming bright like the sun. She played for him, calling with her heart as well as her song. Giant wings fanned the warm air as he circled, sapphire eyes glowing down at her. Two gleaming horns spiraled up from his mighty head and he had a snout full of jagged ivory teeth. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, the scales on his body lifting slightly from the rumbling vibration. She should have feared the beast, but as long as she played her melody, he was hers, a slave to her bidding. The air, stirred by the dragon's wings, stroked through her raven tresses. She willed him to her, to kneel at her feet. The dragon landed with... A heavy thud behind her made her jump. Fioraluna's eyes snapped open, fingers stilling on the flute. Her lips parted, breath growing rapid as every hair on her head prickled from the shiver running up her spine. She felt a presence. Her imagination conjured the image of a fire-breathing dragon hunkered down behind her, sharp teeth dripping with spit, ready to Raveour her in one gulp. Silly, of course, because a dragon wouldn't even fit in her tower room, big as it was. Still, her mind would not shake the image of a dragon. Swallowing, she lowered her flute from her lips, heart racing. A fine trembling began in her body, and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to stifle the urge to whimper. She strained to hear any type of movement, but all she heard was... breathing, deep, steady—unlike her terrified panting. A fresh clean scent, like citrusy fruit on a crisp verdant summer breeze tickled her nose. The heat emanating behind her dissipated the chill in the room. A fire-breathing dragon—she thought valiantly trying not to scream now. Slowly, Fioraluna turned her head. She winced when her flute fell from her grasp with a loud metallic clang, her eyes going round in the gloom of the tower. It was shaped like a person...somewhat. At least it wasn't a dragon, though the presence of the shadowy figure did not comfort her at all. The person knelt a few paces away. She could barely make out the shadowy figure. Whoever it was didn't move, just knelt there, silent, breathing. Fioraluna turned her head away and rose, her heart seemingly pounding at the back of her throat. Putting one bare foot before the other with careful slowness, she made her way to the window shutters. The sound of her heart and erratic terrorized panting seemed to echo in the room's rafters. Movement. She sensed movement and turned her head to see the shadowy figure slowly dragging a pillow into its lap. The head looked big, furry, the shoulders wide, body enormous. Oh-no, it's a beast...a monster—she screamed in her head. Fioraluna shivered, her eyes riveted to the dark shadow as her trembling fingers fumbled with the latch on the shutters. The latch stuck, rusty with age, and just as she was about to start shrieking, it gave and slid open with a long squealing cry of protest. With a forceful push, she swung the shutters open. The ancient shutters groaned and creaked. For a moment, she pondered simply throwing herself over the ledge. The ground below was very far. She'd never survive. Fear choked her as she turned back. Sunlight poured into the tower room, chasing back the darkness and chill. The dark grey of the floor lightened to a slivery ash, the same shade as the old wooden beams that held up the second story to the room. Her rumpled bed came into view with its frayed patchwork quilt and frayed red rug. Her dolls sat around, smiling, unmoving, uncaring of the presence in the room. The shutters finally banged loudly against the rock walls of the tower. In two rapid blinks, the light engulfed the shadowy figure, bathing it in golden splendor. "Oh, gods," Fioraluna gasped, her hand going to her galloping heart. Her eyes beheld the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen—and the biggest. What she had assumed was a large head turned out to be a mane of golden hair, spilling down in thick, lustrous waves around a muscular body. Fioraluna's jaw dropped as her eyes took in the fiery sapphire eyes, lush lips, thick neck, bulky shoulders, and ropey arms. The creature's chest sported square pillows of flesh with copper colored disks in their bronzed centers. They tightened even as she gaped at them. Her eyes couldn't stop there though. Rippled abs dipped into a tiny belly button just above the red pillow clutched over thick meaty thighs. She swallowed loudly, her eyes darting back up to the creature's beautiful face. Hints of dimples made little hollows in his cheeks and another in the center of his chin. An angel? Was this an angel like the one she had in the little picture on her nightstand? But why would an angel be kneeling in the center of her room? Sapphire eyes closed, long gold-tipped lashes sweeping over slightly flushed cheeks. Again, Fioraluna let her gaze sweep over the creature's unclothed body. It was so big... so different from her or her other dolls... that were female. A boy doll? Had mama given her a boy doll? Her fascinated gaze traveled back up its torso. Huge, but pretty. It had to be a boy. Fioraluna walked over to him. His eyes snapped back open, disorientated at first, but then they focused on her almost in adoration. She circled him once, noticing all that wavy golden hair fell to the middle of his bottom, which rested over his enormous feet. He watched her, blinking, turning his head first on way then the other as she came around him full circle. She went down on her knees before him. "You're so beautiful." She touched his chest and was surprised at his warmth, as though he ran a fever. His skin was velvety soft too, not rubbery. Oh, he was going to feel so nice against her skin. Fioraluna was almost tempted to strip bare and snuggle up immediately. Her nails pressed against the pectoral under her palm. The doll flinched, eyes widening, going over every feature on her face. His hands clutched the pillow tighter. He swallowed convulsively, looking bewildered now, which Fioraluna found quite strange. She licked her lips and his eyes flicked down to watch in rapt attention. A soft sigh puffed out from between his lips and he swayed a little toward her. Alarm streaked through her making her gasp and lift her other hand to steady him. "Is your power running low," she asked anxiously. He blinked and pulled back. "I only have enough power to charge one doll at a time and today I was charging Neeka," she explained. He opened his mouth to speak, looking baffled, but Fioraluna placed her fingers over his lips. Their petal softness startled her silent a moment, but she shook her head, worried he'd power off from lack of energy. Then he'd grow cold and lifeless like the rest of her dolls. "Don't talk or move until I bring Neeka's energy crystal. She's another doll I have upstairs in a glass case. Mama won't let me play with her..." she frowned, "I don't know why, but it doesn't matter. Please don't shut off. It'll take forever to get you to power up and I want so much to talk and play with a new doll. My other ones don't function anymore. I'll be right back. Stay." She got up, joy overwhelming her senses as she scampered up the stairs, tripping along the way. *** Dane watched the raven-haired beauty scramble away. She gave a little squeal of utter delight as she literally ran up the old looking spiral staircase. "Where the hell am I?" he whispered to himself, looking around. Everything wavered and he felt light headed and faint, but, of course, that hadn't hindered him from noticing how stunning she looked, and so...innocent. His gaze lowered to the pillow he'd grabbed to cover his boy parts, unsure of the welcome a six-foot-seven, two hundred and fifty pound naked man would receive. Again, he wondered how he wound up...here. His gaze roved over everything; round room, very big, made of stone, and judging from the view of wispy clouds and swaying treetops the ginormous window before him displayed, he surmised he was inside a very tall tower. "As in Rapunzel, Wilder," he murmured to himself with a snort of disbelief. Grayed out beams hinted at siglons of age. The furniture looked worn and the bedclothes and tapestries faded and frayed. Dozens of life sized dolls in various stages of undress sat around, their big lifeless eyes and empty smiles giving him the creeps. Dane frowned, running his hands up his chest. His hair was loose and he was naked. A shiver of revulsion made him clench his teeth as he wondered if he'd shifted into his dragon form again. No. Mustn't think of that horror—the feel of his body contorting, stretching, jagged teeth pushing through his gums, his bones popping, fire coursing through his veins... Dane clenched his teeth tighter to keep the scream that wanted to erupt from his throat trapped. He slid his hands into his hair and pulled, eyes closed as he willed his flesh to stop twitching. "God-oh-god...not now," he panted. Control. He was the master. He was in charge. Slowly, his body stopped shaking and his breathing slowed to normal. Eyes closed, he lowered his hands back upon the pillow. "That's better, Wilder. Now think." The last thing he remembered was fighting a legion of devils in some underground cavern, following Damien out into a corridor afterwards, and then accidentally falling through a portal Damien had opened in hopes of getting back to their transports quicker. "Aw hell," Dane cursed with a grimace. God only knew where the hell he was. "Serves me right for following Damien around like an idiot." Soft footfalls sounded above, drawing his gaze to the wooden ceiling. The girl. Longing stirred within him. Holy crap, the minute she'd opened those shutters he felt as if he'd been hit over the head with a plasma cannon. Her skin was the color of sweet caramel, eyes a luminous gold fringed by long, thick, black lashes. He didn't miss her full, lush lips, the glimpse of white teeth, and a soft pink tongue beyond when she gasped. She had the slightest hint of an over bite that made her face more adorable than beautiful, framed by a fall of deep black hair spilling to her tiny waist. Firm, round breasts pressed against the gold material of her scoop-necked dress, jutting nipples letting him know she wore no bra underneath. Dane literally drooled... He'd bedded many beauties before, had them by dozens at a time in his bed, tied down, spread out for his pleasure and dominance, but this girl...I want her, I need to be hers, I...I... Dane blinked, rearing back before he crawled on his knees up the spiral staircase after her. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to be hers?" He scowled wondering what sneaky spell she'd cast on him. Oh, she definitely needs to be...punished. Naughty girl. His body tightened as his mind pictured what all that caramel-colored skin would look like once he peeled away her pretty gown. Oh yes, and his favorite metal-studded cuffs around her delicate wrists and ankles would look stunning too. Images of her strapped to his favorite spanking bench had him sighing. He'd kiss, lick and nip her perky ass first, get her all hot and bothered...and then, she'd feel the business end of his palm, let her know who was in charge-who belonged to who. Dane moaned, "Oh, yeah." Persistent hissing intruded his dark thoughts. "Pssssssst!" Dane turned and scowled. Aw, damn-it all. Damien Draconius, his irritating Alpha Talana brother waved his hand insistently. "Get over here." The sunlight poured over his mop of blood-red hair, making his green-gold eyes sparkle. Dane growled at him, making the red weredragon's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. No. he was not leaving. That female had his name all over her and Dane Wilder wasn't leaving until he tried her on for size. Dane turned away with a snort, ignoring the way Damien hissed his name in irritation. His eyes went over the room. It was relatively clean, but everything looked very old—much older than the girl...trapped here. Yes. The raven-haired beauty had to be a prisoner. And he was going to save her. The thought made him grin. He imagined carrying her out of the tower, laying her inside his Viper and stripping her bare, telling her she didn't need the old rags of her past life. He'd dress her in diamonds, rubies, and pearls. His collar. She'd be happy and appreciative he'd saved her...yes, Master. Thank you. Please, take me... A hand gripping his biceps interrupted his fantasy. "What is wrong with you? Let's get the hell out of here," Damien whispered, getting into Dane's face. Damien's black-rimmed green eyes bore into his. Dane didn't understand what was wrong with himself either. He felt weird—not right at all. All he knew was that the thought of leaving...her, gave him a feeling of panic, anxiety, anger. He'd convince Rem to bring her along. Later he'd figure out what the hell the little witch had done to him and turn the tables on her. Yeah, good idea—he thought, watching Damien's confused frown. "She's a prisoner of sorts," Dane blurted, knowing that if there were anyone in this universe that understood blind stupid infatuation, it would be Damien Draconius. "Let's take her with us, Red." Damien's lips twitched, the sunlight glinting off the two silver hoops piercing his lower lip and then he grinned...that wicked grin he always got when he was about to partake in some matchmaking. The idiot thought he was the reincarnation of Cupid. This time Dane didn't mind the weredragon's meddling. "Are you out of your mind?" Dante's platinum blond head popped in next to Damien. The young weretigri frowned at Dane, his pale blue eyes flashing as Damien rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Raven will tear us a new one. We've got to get out of here now." Dane's stiffened. No. He opened his mouth to beg shamelessly, but Damien saved him from humiliation. The red weredragon snickered, "Dane likes her. I say we take her home for him." Dane held his breath, watching Dante's frown turn into a scowl. "We can't just take beings as fuck toys, Draconius. What the hell is wrong with you?" *** An Talana and a Raveil. The creatures arguing before her new doll were not of this world. The Raveil's hair was so red it Damiennded her of fresh blood. It was long and shaggy and stuck up out of its head in every direction. Black scrolled designs wrapped around its biceps, and forearms. The tattoo of a dragon clutched the right thigh up to its hip and a snake curled from its left foot to just past the ankle. The Talana's hair was as white as fresh snow and fell like a silken veil, just barely brushing wide bulky shoulders. Like her doll, they too were unclothed, their bodies knotted with muscle and sinew, though not as massively proportioned as her beautiful boy doll. Why they were conversing in hushed tones eluded her. All Fioraluna knew was that that Raveil was not going to take her new doll. His hand was clutching the golden-haired boy doll by his arm. Maybe the Talana was trying to get him to release her doll. Dane Clenching her hands, she approached in silence, pulled one fist back, and swung, aiming for the head of deep red hair. The Raveil ducked last second and her fist connected with her beautiful doll—right in his eye. He fell back, golden tresses flowing around his face and body like the rays of the sun pouring down on all of them. "Son of a bitch," he roared, clutching his eye. The Raveil snapped around to her and blurted, "Sleep!" Dragon-green eyes and blood-red hair were the last things Fioraluna saw. Chapter One Two Earth month cycles later, Cygnus arm of the Milky Way galaxy, Crystalimuus sector. The loud music flowed through Dane's very soul, taking him, driving him. His fingers, as if possessed, flew over the strings of the power guitar in his arms. He stroked the instrument like a lover, loving her, controlling her, bringing her to fevered ecstasy. The power guitar keened and cried under his touch. Dane threw his head back, the feel of his long hair whipping his sweating back as he widened his stance. He twisted sideways, fingers sliding down the arm of the power guitar, knowing he held the hundreds of thousands of alien beings in the arena enthralled. Gritting his teeth, he arched back, fingers already sparking flames with his rapid arpeggio. The multitude roared, shaking the ground beneath his boots. Yes. She would cry out in fulfillment under his control, his dominance—and dominate her he would—master her, make her soul soar. The image of the Arborian witch filled his mind, tormenting him as always. He didn't even know her name, but he'd fallen under her spell. He needed to punish her for that. No one mastered him. He was the Master. The thought of having her bound and at his mercy, hearing her beg as he teased her to agonizing arousal made the blood in his veins sizzle. Dane groaned, the feel of frustrated lust making him ache, even as the explosion of cheers and applause swallowed the last keening notes of his power guitar. He had to stop thinking about that girl, or he'd go insane just as Dante warned. He panted from the efforts of his performance, letting the fact this was his last show with Draconius Imorteus sink in. Pushing back his sweaty hair from his face, he scanned the view before him. Spires of ice soared hundreds of feet into a velvet sky dusted with billions of stars. Laser beams lit each spire from within in a kaleidoscope of blinding colors. Bursts of white light went off in the arena as the alien beings recorded the concert with their vid-crystals. Dane looked up to see himself on all the 4D image replicators around the arena. His blond hair deepened to caramel from sweat, plastered to his torso. His body screamed for a shower, a bed...and her. Dane closed his eyes and desperately shoved away the feeling of anxiety and desperation thinking about her provoked. Opening his eyes, he tried to drown himself in the screams and applause of his adoring fans. With a smile, he closed his eyes, lifted his arms, and let his head drop back. The cheers swelled to a deafening roar. There were beings from every reach of the galaxy, fans of the mega intergalactic rock band, as well as reporters, paparazzi, Master Guardians, and reapers. The fans came for the music. The reporters and paparazzi came for Edenia's legendary Master Guardians, back after disappearing over three hundred years ago, and Dane was one of them. The other Master Guardians and reapers were there waiting for either Dane or one of his brothers to manifest some type of evil power for an excuse to execute Edenia's fallen Talanas Fallen Talanas. Raven, Dane's commander, renamed them Alpha Talanas, wanting disassociation from the Edenian government and the Order of Master Guardians. Most of the galaxy distrusted them, believing they were responsible for the war that almost annihilated the entire galaxy. Part of the tour into the Magnordian sector was canceled when the inhabitants of that area refused to allow one of Lucifer's Talanas into their sector. Dane took a deep breath and let it out slowly, white mist curling into the air. It's what his father had called him the last time they spoke, spawn of the Raveil. Don't go there, Wilder—he admonished himself, pushing the painful memories back into the dark recesses of his mind. The crowd was still roaring, giving him a standing ovation. A chill breeze blew a swath of sticky hair across his cheek. Did the beings before him applaud him for the musician he was, or were they worshiping him as their demonic god? A feeling of absolute despair and loneliness engulfed him. No. He had family. Raven, Talana, Damien, Rowie, Eniel, and Dante. They were his family. The pretty face of the Arborian witch bloomed in his mind, her sweet smile, golden eyes, raven tresses, full ripe... Dane!—Dante's voice intruded his thoughts. From the corner of his eye, he saw the stagehands signaling to him. The lights faded to black and the orchestra behind the band began a soulful tune. Imo would take his rightful place now. Dane supplanted the boyish vampire while he recovered from being abducted and blood-starved by demons. Dane breathed in the icy air, blackness cloaking him as he strode off stage. Only other vampires or werecreatures would see his retreating form. Dantealiel waited for him. The young weretigri gripped Dane's arm and rushed him down the corridor. They weaved their way through the dimly lit tunnels of ice that descended from behind the stage. The walls, ceiling, and floor glowed an eerie deep blue making the vampire crew darting back and forth look even paler, their inhuman eyes glow brighter. "The serum lasts less now," Dante said. "Are we dosing again or leaving?" Dane looked over at Dante's expressionless face. The boy's features were Talanaic with his platinum hair and bright, pale-blue eyes, but the boy rarely smiled. Dante's eyes slanted sideways at Dane, his lips thinning into a scowl. He didn't like being thought of as a boy and though he was already twenty-one Earth years, it was sometimes difficult for Dane to remember that little Dante had grown up. Except when I beat your ass in the training room—Dante snarled into his mind. Now are we leaving or not? Dane chuckled. "We're leaving." He ran his tongue over his fangs even as Dante hustled him faster toward the dressing room. "Are you getting rid of your fangs when we get back?" "Yes," was the weretigri's succinct reply. "You?" Dane considered his options as they ducked around another bend in the maze of corridors. He'd Raveeloped a fetish for blood play now. The way females gasped and cried out in bliss when he drove his fangs into their flesh excited him. The feel and taste of their warm blood on his tongue and lips made him throb. He envisioned the Arborian witch in his arms, trembling with want as he runs his nose down her neck trying to decide where to bite. He would pass her shoulder, mouth watering as she arches her back with a sigh. His fingers would dip into the bodice of her gown... "Stop it," Dante growled. Anticipating another round of lectures from the wereling, Dane felt anger shoot through him. "I'm not under some fucking spell, Dante." "You are." "Damien heard the same as me and he's fine." Dante had told him that the girl had played a flute that had lured not only him, but Damien as well. "You were exposed longer." Yes, Dane had traipsed through the forest apparently in a trance and ended up in the tower room...on his knees completely bewitched with the Arborian witch. Damien had traversed the portal later in search of Dane and had been spelled too. Only the red weredragon had snapped out of it before setting his eyes on the girl. A good thing too, because Rem already had a mate, Ellora Lace. Besides, Dane would have pulverized the insipid idiot had he tried to challenge him for the girl. "Damien pulled out of it. You're the one still obsessing," Dante continued. Dane pulled his arm from Dante's grip and stopped. "Don't you mean I'm weaker than Damien? Go on," he snarled, "say it." He clenched his fists wanting to strike something. He wouldn't hit Dante, though. He loved Dante like the baby brother he never had. He'd punch Damien—if I can catch the slippery son-of-a-bitch. The last time someone tried nailing the red weredragon, Dane ended up getting clocked in the eye. It had been the pretty Arborian witch. "You're not weaker," Dante grated. "There's no such thing as weaker, only less trained." He looked around before settling his pale gaze on Dane again. "Now, are we getting our asses out of here, or are you going to wait for the serum to wear off so you can get mauled by dozens of ravenous vamps intent on draining you of your precious dragon's blood?" Dane winced at the mention of dragon. Strange, how he didn't mind being temporarily turned into a blood-sucking vampire, and yet the Damiennder that he could shift into a dragon made him shudder like an idiot. The thought of not being in control did not sit well with him. Dane Wilder must never lose control. "Fine," he grumbled just as a few female vamps approached. They watched Dane and Dante with wide bright eyes, their nostrils flaring a bit. Next to Dane, Dante growled and the vamps took a step back when a few of his tiger stripes became visible on his forearms. They darted by Dane and Dante, one of them hissing at them. "Shit," Dane huffed as they took off in the opposite direction, quickening their pace. "Forget about changing. Let's go directly to the spaceport. Raven is waiting there with our Vipers." They wove through the tunnels until arriving at the transportation hangar. Boarding a shuttle, they exited the arena via a protected transport chute. The crystal-clear tube dove beneath the ocean a few miles before resurfacing and merging with more common chutes above. Dane was amazed at how quickly the new planet had become populated. Made mostly of ice, the buildings of the city they passed through soared into the night sky, glittering with millions of lights. It amazed Dane to think his commander, Raven, had used his telekinetic powers to haul a dead planet into the exact spot the destroyed planet of Crystalia had once orbited and recreate it almost exactly. This he had done for his love, Talana, who was Crystalian. Dane took a deep breath. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?" "Raven's a fucking god," Dante murmured next to him. Dane turned back to him with a raised brow. As always, the weretigri's expression was blank. "Yeah. He's really powerful." Dane pursed his lips. "Good thing he's on our side." Dante remained mute, his sky-blue eyes glued on the glittering city around them. "Geez, Dante," Dane sighed in exasperation. "Spit it out already." Dante leaned back in the plush velvet seat of the shuttle, the glow of lights shining through the glass windows illuminating half his face. "I keep dreaming that a golden-haired Talana with black wings breaks open the gates of Hell." Dane felt his skin prickle with fear. "Davariel?" "The Talana has Raven's face." And Raven was the living replica of his fallen Talana father, except that the son's hair was blacker than pitch. All images of the fallen Talana di la morte had been removed from the galactic databases, as though his very likeness could reach out and destroy again. The most beautiful Seraph ever born was feared that much—Raven and Lucien's father. "But Davariel turned before being pushed into the realm of shadows. Rave and Luke's mother, the Master Guardian Luciel, redeemed him." Dante was silent a moment. "Talana is pregnant." Dane frowned. "You think Raven and Talana's child is going to be the new dark prince? The baby is wingless. We saw him on Quinn's scan." "Whenever a mortal passes into the realm of demons they transform...acquire wings." The image of Lucien and the demon wings he sported came unbidden to Dane's mind. The ex-second in command's eyes glowed with the same unholy light as Raven's bioluminescent eyes. However, Dante said he saw black wings. Lucien had dark red demon's wings. The feel of Dante's hand sliding around the back of his neck startled Dane. The wereling slid over in his seat and pressed his forehead to Dane's. Pale eyes gazed into his, pupils dilating impossibly wide, the black flickering with a fiery glow. Dane stiffened, wanting to pull away, but the void sucked him in. "See what I see, Dane," Dante whispered. Reality shifted. Beneath Dane's booted feet lay snow and ice, the color of blood and ash, overhead, a sky boiling with poison and absolute cold. He fell to his knees in terror, his hair whipping across his face in the raging wind. Around him, blackened trees twisted in agony, limbs raised to the sky as if in supplication to a god that no longer protected them. He swore inwardly as he peered through the mangled dead trees. He saw a vast ocean, frozen for centuries, and beneath the black depths, the gates of Hell. Dane knew exactly where he was. "Megdoluc," he rasped. He knew the gates weren't completely sealed. Over three hundred years ago, the fallen Talana Davariel tried to break them open and managed to crack the portal, and somehow Dane was now standing at the very edge of the entryway to Hell. The frozen whirlpool had to measure at least a mile across, with congealed waves arching around it about one hundred feet high, like icy jaws. The funnel yawned down into black eternity. Dane wanted to back away, but his body would not respond to his mental commands. The sound of beating wings drew Dane's gaze up. He almost expected to see Damien in dragon form swooping down to rescue him from falling into the pit... and into Hell, but that wasn't what he saw. A golden-haired Seraph hovered overhead with the blackest wings Dane had ever seen. He held a sword, blood dripping from the silver blade. The Talana was hurt, his wings beating weakly, and then he plummeted into the void. "No," Dane screamed, his hand reaching out in futility. The beautiful creature disappeared within the darkness and a rumbling started. The stench was so overpowering, Dane began to retch, his eyes watering and nose running. Turning around, his hands hit the unforgiving ice as his body convulsed, the contents of his stomach spattering everything beneath him. Dane cursed and spit with a grimace, feeling the ground shake harder. Behind him, the sound of wings multiplied, as if billions of bats were flying out of the broken portal. Without looking, he knew they weren't bats. Dane turned, fist against his mouth, tears leaking from his eyes. A black shape rose from the pit, in its arms laid the bleeding Talana. Dane's heart raced until he thought it would explode. The dark shape lifted its head to stare at Dane. "Stop," Dane screamed. Dane was down on the floor of the shuttle, heaving, gagging as his whole body shuddered in revulsion and terror. He didn't know when he'd fallen, but his whole being shook, and sweat covered his body. "Fuck, Dante," he panted. "Do that shit again and I swear I'll tear you to pieces." Dante only stared at him with emotionless eyes. "Get your shit together. We're entering the spaceport." *** Raven stood by their Vipers, a pair of dark glasses covering his bioluminescent blue eyes. Nonetheless, he still drew the gazes of those that passed him. Standing an inch shy of seven feet, clad in black from head to toe, with glossy midnight hair and milk white skin, he had a way of attracting the eye. Raven was the epitome of male beauty, rumored to be the exact replica of his father, Davariel. The only difference was that Davariel had been blond. He grinned when they approached him and soon Dane found himself engulfed in strong arms. "Hey, Rave." Dane patted his commander's back before they released each other. "How's Talana?" Raven's smile faltered. "She's being difficult." Dante scratched his head. "Don't most females get moody when they're gestating?" Dane winced at Dante's wording. Damien was right. The kid talked like he had a stick up his ass. "The baby's growing at an accelerated rate." Raven said with a sigh. "Dr. Quinn says it's because of my Seraphian genes." Unbidden came the image of the blond Talana with the black wings that looked exactly like Raven. It couldn't be Rave's son. Dane hoped it wasn't. "Dane?" Dane started, looking into Raven's face, only to see his own sullen reflection staring right back at him from Rave's glasses. "We'd better get moving," Dante said. "We're drawing attention." Dane looked around the spaceport to see a great number of humanoids pointing and gesturing in their direction. Raven chuckled. "That's right. Dane's a rock star now. Let's go before we get mauled." Dane turned, locking his attention on his black transport. The Viper's top opened, the gleaming black glass rolling into the body of the metal, tear-shaped pod. Lights began flashing around them, Dane realizing they were being vid-recorded. The press of energy around him also warned him that beings were indeed advancing upon them. Gripping the edge of his small transport, Dane hopped inside. The velour interior immediately accommodated to his bulk, cushioning his body into a comfortable reclined position. The glass top rolled shut again. Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed. Time to go back home, boys—Raven murmured into their minds. Dane nodded, opening his eyes again to look at the Black vipers to either side of him. Their transports were identical. There was no instrumentation, no dashboard. They did have a screen for incoming communication from external sources, but it was rarely used. The Viper's sole source of power came from its occupant, a Master Guardian—or as they were now known, an Alpha Talana. Dane took a deep breath, already feeling the tendrils of Dante's power and the definite sizzle of Raven's linking them. Home—Raven's deep voice echoed in his mind. To the onlooker, it probably seemed as if the three black Vipers had just vanished from the spaceport, but in reality, the Alpha Talanas had the ability to bend space to travel beyond the speed of light. Before long, the presence of Alpha 7 loomed before them. Dane opened his eyes as they slowed, letting the image of the ring-shaped space station fill his vision. Home. He remembered the dread he'd felt the first time he'd laid eyes on Alpha 7. He felt as though he were being exiled into a purgatory. How many times had his father spoken of Alpha 7? It was the home of the demonic freaks Edenians called Master Guardians. Humans with telekinetic powers so strong, they weren't allowed to remain on any of the inhabited planets for fear they might try to take over. Now he was one of them, and Alpha 7 was his home...the freaks his family. The silvery hull of the space station glowed in the all-consuming black of space. Millions of lights delineated its form to help keep other spacecrafts from running into it. He knew the exact location of his suite of rooms, knew where everyone else's was too. Raven's rooms were brightly lit signaling that Talana was occupying them. Eniel, their Alpha Talana sister's room was dim. Dane frowned. He wondered if she was still suffering from depression. They'd been in suspended animation for three hundred years, losing everything and everyone they knew, including Eniel's half seraph son, Gareth. Her baby had only been five-years-old at the time. Unbidden came the memory of the little boy running down the corridors of Alpha 7, his one white wing flapping in the air as he screamed in delight playing hide and seek with them. Dane would sometimes help hide him, but Gareth would give away his location with a fit of giggling. The image of chubby cheeks and laughing golden eyes were replaced with another pair of golden eyes looking at him in fascination. The Arborian witch. Dane Full breasts straining against the tight material of her golden gown, pink tongue wetting plump lips, "Mine, dragon. You are mine." Yes-yes. Yours...um—Dane frowned. Wait, hers? The top to his Viper sliding open snapped him out of his daydream. He stared at Raven, feeling a bit of irritation mixed with embarrassment. Raven eyes searched his. "You okay?" Dane rose from his Viper looking away, his face warm. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound nonchalant, "Yeah, man." The gruffness of his voice made him wince. Dane Jumped over the edge of the Viper, the thud of his boots hitting the charcoal-grey hangar floors echoing. The sooner he got away from Raven and Dante's probing stares, the better he'd feel. Besides, he needed to clean up. He was all sticky and... Raven's pale hand shot out and gripped his biceps hard. About to glower at his commander, he sucked in a shocked breath instead, instinctively throwing his arms around Raven when Damien's Viper slid into the hangar inches from their boots, leaving a trail of fire and ice in its wake. Dane crashed with Raven against his Viper, his heart up in his throat. "Crazy-assed fucker," Dante spat. Dane gaped at Damien when he jumped out of his Viper with a stupid grin. Raven's warm breath against his cheek had him blinking down at his commander. "You can let go of me now, sweetheart," Raven's deep velvety voice crooned, his lips twitching into a smirk. Dane's face flamed realizing he held onto Raven a tad too tight. They were plastered against each other, faces close enough to kiss. "Sorry," he murmured disentangling himself. Raven ducked his head, but not before Dane saw him bite his lip to keep from laughing. Damien sauntered toward them, his grin a slash across his face. "What'd I miss?" "Maiming us and destroying our Vipers by a hair," Dante snarled. "That's what you missed, asshole." Damien gave him an amused look, shrugged, and then flipped him off. Stripes appeared on Dante's skin as he hissed at Damien. Dane rolled his eyes. It was a typical night in Alpha 7. "Knock it off you two," Raven sighed. He looked back at Dane. "Get cleaned up and uh..." He looked down for a moment before placing his hand over Dane's shoulder. "I'm glad you're back. We all missed you." "Thanks." Dane smiled. "I missed my home and family too." He meant every word. Dane teleported to his room and headed straight to his hygiene unit, shucking his clothing as he walked. After teleporting his pants and boots off, he stepped into the cylindrical glass and steel area, slammed his palm on the control panel., and growled "the usual." Blue rays engulfed him from head to toe. It felt like static electricity mixed with warm fragranced air. "Again." He knew the rays didn't need to clean him a second time, but he enjoyed the sensation enough to spread his legs a bit and shake his hair out with his fingers to feel the rays down to his scalp and balls. Once done, he ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the pearly smoothness, enjoying the minty cleanliness that would last for days. The sharp points of his fangs made him pause. Would she enjoy the feel of them over her skin? The control panel of his hygiene unit faded, replaced by the girl's smiling face, inches of bare, satiny, caramel skin. Would her nipples be just slightly darker than her skin? Would they be chocolaty brown like Eniel's? He wanted to taste them, bite them, suck them into his mouth so deep, and then pierce— "Goliath?" Eniel's voice startled him out of his fantasy. "Be right out," he called frowning down at his hard-on. He sighed with a shrug. Eniel had caught him in worse situations. After gingerly stepping into a pair of comfy white drawstring pants, he padded barefoot into his sleeping area. Eniel stood with her back to him, holding up one of his boots, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. Her reddish-brown hair hung in loose waves to the middle of her back and her lounging pants, similar to the ones he wore, barely clung to the supple curve of her ass. There was a time when Dane had been extremely infatuated with her. Who wouldn't be? Even Raven had chrushed on her before he was old enough to have wet dreams. Eniel was tall, all legs, curves and dark brown skin smooth as satin. "You know what they say about shoe size and men," he growled with a grin. She turned with smile, batting long lashes over her green-gold-flecked light brown eyes. "They have big egos?" Dane laughed and braced himself when she launched at him with a squeal of glee, and then staggered a bit when she wrapped herself around him. The woman was almost as tall as he was and her size double D breasts were a force to be reckoned with. Dane held her tight before leaning back to look into her eyes. He gently ran one finger over the soft curve of her face. "A little birdie told me you were still keeping to your quarters, not even coming out to train." She snorted. "A birdie, or a blabber-mouthed red-haired nosey body with tattoos and piercings?" I resent that—Damien growled in their heads. Dane ignored Damien and just looked at her with a raised brow. She huffed out a soft sigh, staring at him with a sweet pout from beneath her lashes, just before resting her head against his shoulder. "It's just been so...hard." Dane nuzzled his face against the silk of her auburn hair. "I know, baby. I know." Her baby. He often wondered if perhaps Gareth might still be alive. If the child hadn't perished in the bloodshed of the war, it was possible. After all, the child was half Seraph and their life spans were over two thousand years. Gareth, at a little over three hundred years, would still be considered young...like Ashriel, one of the reapers' high priests. Eniel turned her head and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I'm okay. We've been back a while now. Nothing can change the past, right? Time to move forward." She gave him a little smile, bracing her palms on his shoulders to look him up and down. "Well you're looking well, Blondie. How're you feeling? What's up with all this pretty hair flowin' loose and all sexy?" She winked at him as she twirled a strand of his hair around one of her fingers. Dane stared deep into her eyes for a moment. "I've fallen head over heels in love with some female whose name I don't even know. I feel like I'm about to lose my mind and I don't know why. Dante thinks this female put a love spell on me." Eniel blinked, her mouth open in a little o of surprise. "Well, baby-doll, I certainly wasn't expecting that." Dane released her and went to sit at the edge of his bed. The gold satin comforters swallowed his weight as he placed one foot on the edge of the pedestal where the round bed sat almost in the middle of the room. The lights automatically dimmed and the accent lighting under the pedestal cast a cozy glow throughout the room, just as he'd programmed it to do whenever anyone sat on the bed. "I don't know what to do, Eniel. I try to rationalize everything up here," he tapped his forehead, "but I feel this overwhelming urge to go back to her." Eniel sat next to him. "You can't be in love with someone you don't even know, Blondie." Dane took a deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes when she began to stroke his hair. He remembered how the Arborian witch had stared with longing, as if more than anything she would have liked to stroke it too. I want her to—he thought and then winced remembering how closely linked they all were. You just need to get laid—Dante suggested. Maybe. But even as he considered it, his skin crawled in protest. Damien snorted in their collective minds—Not. Unless it's that pretty Indian princess. You watch too many Disney movies, Red—Raven chuckled. Dane can't be in love with a female whose name he doesn't even know. "That's stupid," Eniel concluded verbally, staring at him with a frown. "I keep trying to tell myself that, Eniel. It can't be love. It isn't love...but inside I...I hurt." He scowled feeling anger at having his emotions manipulated. "I won't have my heart tied up like a puppet in chains, Eniel. I need to find this girl and she needs to undo whatever it is she did to me." Eniel bit the corner of her lip. "Y-you wouldn't hurt her, would you, Goliath? I know you're into all this bondage and dominance stuff." Her words surprised him."I would never hurt a woman, but this can't go unpunished, Eniel."