Firestorm Ch 04

Authors note: This chapter is unedited and may contain multiple errors. Please don't be too brutal.

Deamon, age 12

Black Manor

Westwood Region

He ran till his lungs burn in his chest; every breath felt like inhaling fire. The red liquid on his fingers thickened as it dried on his skin; his eyes were burning with tears. He had shielded off his empathy, subsequently silencing his emotions. It was only when the shield dropped that he felt that crushing weight of guilt.

It wasn't supposed to end that way, and they were supposed to feel his determination, not his pain. He did it wrong; the emotions he had projected were potent, amplified until they had lost control.

It wasn't supposed to be that way.

Twigs snapped as the sound of heavy footstep drew his attention.

"Oh dear, what a tragedy." The voice held a menacing delight that had a wave of nausea crashing into him.

"Come now, Deamon, you just let them feel everything they were putting you through. Sadly the rising bloodlust of an adolescence vampire must have been too much for them. It was not your fault dear, don't blame yourself."

Daemon clung to the words like his only reprieve from the guilt that gnawing at his heart. But it was his fault.

Tears continue to run down his cheeks as he looked at the man who was the only person that would standby him.

"Yes," The man said. "It's a shame, but this is not your fault and it makes me so sad to see you hurting." He raised his hands to caress Daemon's hair. Daemon flinched away from the touch.

"There is a way to stop the pain, to make everything feel better. Just sheild away from the emotions so they won't hurt you anymore," He cooed.

"W-Why?" Deamon asked, tasted the salt on his tongue as the pain still torn at his chest.

"Let's find the answers together, shall we? I don't believe we are welcome anymore."

Daemon looked back at the Manor before he raised his shields.

***

Micah didn't have much time to shower before being virtually dragged from Caspian's home to God's knows where. She glanced down at her wrists and sighed. Caspian had placed the cuffs on her while she slept.

She had been tired as her body recovered from the excessive blood loss and wasn't aware enough to prevent him from placing the restraints on her. The itch against her skin was a reminder that she was too trusting.

The Seraph did not always accept their fated partner, choosing to follow a different path; Micah understood that. Having a fated partner was similar to having an arranged marriage with perfect compatibility. It was tempting, but not everyone wanted their fate decided for them. The idea that someone was born to be your ideal other half was too much of a fairytale, and she didn't believe in fairytales.

Micah glanced down at her wrists again, and her attention diverted, drawn to the silk sheen of her ruby dress. She either wore the dress or went naked; she was by no means body shy, but Micah didn't want to feel any more exposed to Caspian than she already was. So she had worn the dress as he asked.

It didn't hurt that she felt a little like Cinderella; her male lead, however, was more like the villain than a Prince Charming.

She rolled her shoulders as her muscles tensed. The restrictions impaired her ability to move freely and caused tension to build. She tried stretching and quickly realised that doing so in a limo was not one of her brightest ideas.

"Do you need a hand?"

Micah lifted her gaze, caught Caspian watching her. His eyes lingered on her bare shoulders and then to the plunging neckline of the dress. He had chosen to wear a white dress shirt and black pants, nothing fancy, but the vampire could look sexy in anything and nothing.

Micah contemplated his question. She could tell him to take a very long walk off a short bridge, but then her shoulders would still ache. Micah shifted until her back faced him; as soon as his fingers touched her skin, electricity spark. She bit the inside of her cheek to quieten the need.

Caspian's fingers stilled for a moment before he began easing her muscles with firm pressure.

His touch felt like exquisite torture, and she realised that she was undoubtedly an idiot. Plain and simple, instead of getting the ache in her muscles eased, she now needed a cold shower, or better yet, she would submerge herself in a bath of ice until the heat in her blood cooled. The mating bond affected shifters on a primal level, beating at their instincts until they gave in.

Micah bit down harder, tasted copper on her tongue before Caspian gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

His eyes were flecked red against the ice blue, his fangs lengthening.

"Easy," She slowly moved away; being bitten was the last thing she wanted. "I just bit my cheek. It wasn't an invitation." Micah lifted her hands to heal the small wound, attention drawn back to the cuffs.

"Were these necessary?" Micah asked as she lifted her cuffs as if there was any doubt in what she was referring to, they were silver-plated, and she could feel the slight irritation on her skin getting worse. She refused to scratch in front of Caspian; the blue-eyed bastard didn't deserve to see her squirm.

"Are you going to behave?" He replied as he regained his composure. "And half-blood or not, tasting you would be like sipping poisen."

She frowned, "I am in a limo, against my will, and I haven't scarred that pretty face of yours; I think I have been pretty well behaved. As for my blood," She leaned closer, "Sipping poison might taste like wine to you. If you ever want to indulge."

Caspian's smug smirk made her want to wipe that expression off his face.

"It is one way to die, I guess..." He shrugged, clearly not interested, which suited Micah just fine; maybe she was the tiniest bit disappointed.

"We are visiting my cousin."

"Was there a reason that I needed my hands cuffed before visiting your cousin?" she asked.

"My cousin doesn't welcome visits offend; the cuffs were precautionary."

"Why was the precaution necessary? I don't bite, well not that hard." Micah teased.

Caspian's gaze sharpened, "Unfortunately, yes, I was afraid you might scar my pretty face."

Micah smiled, "I happen to think that scars can be quite sexy on a male." and she immediately wanted to facepalm herself.

He had kidnapped her to visit his cousin without explanation, and she was flirting. The situation was Frustrating. It must be Stockholm syndrome because she wasn't going to admit that she had bitten off more than she could chew.

She turned away from him and glanced outside, heard the rumble of the thunder above the clouds; it seems that someone else was getting frustrated too.

Micah turned back Caspian. He was in a dark mood; the red didn't entirely recede from his eyes. Her mate was lethal, his rank of Lord an indication of his strength, but he had too many secrets.

There were no signs that Caspian suspected that she was nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard. Vampire needed to taste the blood of their mate to confirm their suspicion. It seemed her beautiful mate didn't have a clue about who she was to him.

She wasn't about to analyse his every motive; she didn't live in a world where everything was black and white. He was the same as the primes that ruled their regions—both beautiful and dangerous.

Micah's stomach growled as she remembered that she had skipped breakfast. She reached for the fridge and growled when she found it filled with nothing but bags of blood. Caspian ate food but seemed to prefer a diet of blood.

"If you are hungry, we can stop for a meal."

"Do I have to put the pretty cuffs back on?" Micah replied sweetly with just a touch of annoyance.

She glanced at the sky again, "Have you told my alpha about this little excursion?" The darkening skies said he didn't.

Caspian stiffened, which was an answer in itself, "Your alpha knows that I needed your service for a period, and until you are no longer needed, I still require your cooperation." If cooperation meant cuffs and a pretty dress, then Micah would swear off sugar, which was never going to happen.

"Well, Mr Vampire, I hope whatever you have planned is almost over; we are due for bad weather."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" He frowned and narrowed his ice-blue eyes, and the air-cooled in the small space of the vehicle.

"Caspian, you do know that Kiki is my alpha...not Seth." Micah was loyal to the Northland Prime Alpha only because of his commitment to her true Alpha.

Caspian turned to her, with a slight tilt to his head, "Kiki?"

"Kiara Rikka Saint." The 'Rikka Saint' family were Shifter royalty, power accumulated with age, and the Rikka Saint bloodline was the shifters' oldest. Kiara was also Gian, a designation of elemental, with absolute control over all the elements. She also meant more than just her Alpha. Kiara was family.

"Is that a threat?" Caspian voice deepened, his muscles tenses as if he was about to strike.

Micah sighed heavily; monarchy rulers were ruthless, and Kiara was an alpha used to spilling blood to protect her people. That didn't mean she was about to pit her heavily pregnant Alpha against her destined mate.

Her stomach growled again, and she decided to nap against the cool glass of the window to ignore her hunger and ignore the pissy male.

She wasn't about to panic about a situation she had no control over. The scents subtlety changed; aromas, both foreign and familiar, waft through the air. Micah smiled; she knew this place. This place was where she was born.

When they finally stopped, Micah quickly exited the limo; she stretched her limbs and scented the air. It was good to be back, but she had crossed over territorial lines. Micah needed to declare her presence. The shifters would only know that she had entered their territory if they had caught her scent, but the Seraph could feel her pass their boundary lines. She had declared her presence by simply crossing onto the new region.

Caspian waited in front of the limo, seemingly waiting for her to join him. Micah was irritable, itchy and wanted a safe place to recharge her batteries. She lifted the cuffs with a sweet smile. "C'mon, I've been good."

Caspian laughed as he retrieved the keys and removed the cuffs. She felt relief flood her as the irritation against her skin eased.

She looked around the new region. Regions were territories that spread across cities. Dominants were territorial, needing a vast enough space to avoid clashes: the more potent the dominant, the larger the domain they required. Narine was a small territory that bordered three significant regions. The only reason that it was small was a simple fact that the dominant species ruling the region was the Seraph. The region thus had the highest concentration of Seraph as their citizens. Seraph led with a firm but gentle hand, they were not territorial, but they were fiercely protective.

Micah took her sweet time joining Caspian before they reached the door. There was a heavy atmosphere over the mansion; it wasn't the house itself, but something was off, and the place looked similar to Caspian's.

The door opened, and a male with deep ocean blue eyes stepped out. He wore glasses and a formal suit. He was rocking the hot accountant look, with a resemblance to Caspian. The Black family seemed to have one hell of a gene pool.

"Christian, would Daemon not be greeting us?" Caspian asked.

Glasses guy glanced at Micah and smiled at Caspian, well at least one of them had a friendly welcome. He was about to answer when another male emerged from behind the door. This new vampire was striking. His eyes were the same familiar ice-blue but so pales that they were almost white. The dark rich ebony of his hair was in sharp contrast to his eyes and hair. Micah frowned; there was a heavy fog of taint that coated the air around him. It must be suffocating, exposed to so much.

He smiled brightly, "Welcome, Caspian," then turned to Micah, "Micah, I presume, please come in, I'm Daemon," that smile was an impeccable mask, "I have a meal prepared." He continued.

At the mention of food, Micah's stomach growled on cue; she was too hungry to be embarrassed.

"You wouldn't have steak on the menu by any chance?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes, actually, and strawberry cheesecake for dessert." Micah blinked; he was a saint, tainted or not, he offered food to a hungry wolf. He must be a saint. "Nice to meet you," Micah greeted warmly and found Daemon watching her curiously.

**

Dinner was satisfying, but it also made Micah sleepy. She had sniffed the food to ensure there was no poison, her Seraph heritage made her immune to most toxins, but she wasn't about to underestimate any of the vampires of the Black family. She circled her arms around her plate possessively. Shifters were prone to food aggression, and Micah was no exception.

Demon ate quietly and didn't offer much in terms of small talk. Caspian was on alert; his body relaxed but prone like a stalking cat. The other members of the Black family seemed perfectly comfortable with the awkwardness. If Micah were with her pack, they would be screaming across the table and fighting for the scraps of food. They didn't have much before merging with Seth's pack, but they cherished the little they did have.

"So, do I crash in the dungeon, or do I get a bed to sleep on?" Sleeping in the ground was as damn uncomfortable, but she could manage.

"I may be a monster, but I don't believe myself to be that cruel, my dear." Daemon sipped a red liquid that smelled more like alcohol than blood. He had nursed the single drink as he ate, not topping up his glass when he nearly empty. The vampires had a high tolerance for alcohol; it took over ten tequila shots to make one drunk. Micah smiled at the memory of trying to drink one under the table. They both ended up puking their guts out till they were sober enough to leave the bar, but it was so worth it.

"So, can you perhaps tell me why I am here? Micah was not holding thumbs that Deamon would be any more forthcoming than Caspian.

"What is the schedule for today?" Caspian asked. Daemon diverted his attention to him.

"I will be escorting Micah to the arena. You will remain at my home, or you can leave. The choice is yours." The monotone voice was glacial, not an ounce of emotion, and although the words had been cutting, the cousins seemed to perfectly used to this kind of banter.

The family had some issues, that was a certainty. Deamon was no psychopath; this wasn't just a lack of an emotional response. It was like he didn't feel anything at all—an empty shell.

A young male appeared with a beautifully presented cheesecake; Micah decided to ignore her dining partners. "Mine." She said while making space on the table in front of her. Cheesecake first, weird family issues later.

Micah laid in bed, the room was comfortable, but she was having difficulty switching the rapid buzz of her mind off. Independence was important to her, but she knew escape was a pipedream without help. Kiki was not in any condition to play knight to her princess in distress act. That left the Seraph.

She pulled the pouch that held her precious stones from the dimensional pocket that had been a temporary hiding place.

She placed them over the blanket. She had stashed the precious stones there instead of carrying them physically—the colours varied from intense purple to matt charcoal. Micah emptied the pouch and hummed softly, then added the words that activated the crystals. They danced in the air in intricate patterns. A slight glow radiated from each crystal's core, intensified, and created sparks of energy in the air. The sparks were visible as white light before they dispersed. The summoning chant was specific to only Micah's bloodline, which meant Caspian would be meeting her family for a change.

She collected the precious stones and placed them back inside the pocket. Seraph used the pocket dimension as a safe place to store particular items. Some Seraph, like Micah, could keep either a single dagger or her stones; others had unlimited storage capacity. Having an entire arsenal at your disposal came in handy in battle; Micah had her claws and teeth, weapons of a shifter, and she was skilled in using them.

She stretched her sentinel senses, and there was Caspian, his scent and presence unmistakable. Both Deamon and Christian were not in the house. There were a few vampires that remained, and all seemed calm and relaxed.

She peeked out from the room; there were no guards or enhanced security. It Seemed Daemon didn't think she would run away.

Micah found herself in front of another room in the house; there was no door, natural light streamed from a large window.

Caspian sat on the stone tiles, his eyes closed and wine glass beside him. She had instinctively followed him, his wild earth scent filling the air.

Micah took a step inside the room; there were paintings everywhere. The art style was the same, with the same characters, signifying that the same artist must have produced the artwork.

"Can't sleep?" She asked as she looked at the paintings displayed around the room.

"The house has too many memories." He admitted.

The figures in the paintings were dark-haired, some blond and blue-eyed, obviously related to each other.

"Over-whelmed by memories, and you decided a room filled with captured memories in paint was the best place to be?"

"Memories in paint?" Caspian chuckled.

"Yeah, like photos. Painted pieces freeze a moment in time." Micah's gaze fell on a little boy holding the hand of a bond women with a bright smile.

"That is if the work isn't fiction."

"Is this Fiction? The characters are so vivid, and there is growth in the characters in different paintings." Micah asked sceptically.

Caspian took a sip of his glass as Micah continued gazing at the paintings. They were beautiful. Every piece told a story, a story filled with joy and happiness.

"Not fictional, but you are right. It's a frozen memory. Most of the paintings were by my aunt, Daemon's Mother and a few by Daemon."

"Can I come here?" Micah asked eagerly. The room had a sense of calm about, untouched by the darkness that clouded the rest of the building; it was a safe space.

"You are here." He smirked.

"I mean when the room feels more like a cage than a place to relax." She didn't want to admit that the house held an aura that made her anxious.

"Daemon has no plans to restrict you, so I don't mind you using this place." Micah was surprised that Caspian conceded to another Lord's authority. Dominants didn't cohabitate often, and when they did, it usually ended in bloodshed.

Micah yawned as her reserves on low. "Are you not going to tell me anything?"

Micah watched as Caspian's tensed, the veins in his neck protruding from under his skin. "I can't risk telling you anything just yet." He turned away from her, choosing to close his eyes and lean back against the wall. It was a blatant dismissal.

He was a beautiful man, with so many dark secrets. Her Wolfen mind told her to nuzzle his neck and offer him comfort, and the Seraph part wanted to heal the cloud of darkness that seemed to haunt him. Both sides wanted to slap his handsome face, which meant that the only option left was to walk away, to deal with the building storm later.

**

The stench of death clung to the corpse; the male was familiar yet change, death altering the features. Deamon methodically broke each of his knuckles, stretching his fingers as he knelt beside the body to study the wounds more closely. There was a shallow pool of blood beneath the body, nowhere near enough. The male killed elsewhere before being discarded.

"He's one of mine," he declared. The wounds looked like claw marks, the furrowed deep against the bodies many injuries. The number of deaths was rising, and the time between kills was getting shorter.