Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) by Amber Kallyn

as
Celeste walked into her bedroom, the kitten in her arms.
    She stopped at the foot of the bed, rubbing
her cheek along the furball’s back, then set it on the bed.
    It looked up at her, meowing, and she
laughed. He could barely hear it through the closed window, but the
musical sound flooded him with longing. He sank a fang into his
tongue to clear his unstoppable thoughts.
    When she reached up and drew her shirt over
her head, revealing an expanse of creamy skin covered only by a
lacy, red bra, his lungs stopped working.
    He couldn’t breathe. His hands shook.
    He felt as frozen as when the banshee’s
scream had held him.
    She tossed the shirt somewhere, then
unsnapped her jeans and tugged them down long, smooth thighs.
    His blood fired at the sight of her standing
in nothing but two scraps of matching red lace.
    She was beautiful, a warrior’s form hidden
beneath her womanly curves.
    She was perfect.
    When she reached to unhook her bra, he
finally found the strength to turn away. He couldn’t sit here and
leer at her, like some Peeping Tom.
    He left the roof, trying to forget what he’d
just seen, but it was impossible with desire racing through his
blood.
    After checking around her apartment one more
time, he stood on the street, watching her now-dark window.
    Sighing, he headed back to the pub to get
some sleep of his own.
     
***
     
    The dreams came fast and hard. He was a young
boy, on his parents’ farm. He and Eric were working in the field,
bringing in the sheep for shearing.
    A giant ship sailed up the fjord along their
land, a strange ship unlike any they’d ever seen before.
    His mother called for him to come to the
house as his father strode to the dock with two of his warriors to
meet the ship. Brandon and Eric ignored their mother’s calls,
hiding in the tall grass, watching the ship’s arrival.
    A tall woman came down the plank, wearing a
shimmering, nearly transparent gown. He and Eric stopped at the
sight, unable to look away from the nearly naked woman.
    Their father spoke, his words unclear. The
woman smiled, her green eyes bright.
    Monsters descended, crawling over the side of
the ship and onto land.
    The woman waved her hand towards their
father. He screamed, a soul-destroying sound Brandon had never
before heard, and had never forgotten.
    His father’s body erupted in flames that
quickly jumped to his two warriors. All three slid to the ground,
writhing as they burned.
    Near the house, his mother screamed as she
saw what was happening.
    Brandon jumped from his hiding place. With
Eric at his side, they raced for the house, to protect their mother
and siblings inside.
    He’d found a scythe near the barn, grabbed
it, then faced the beasts rushing down the docks.
    He’d fought, Eric at his back. But the
creatures didn’t stop, were never ending.
    The beasts clawed, bit, snapped.
    All too soon, his energy flagged. Behind him,
Eric cried out and the crack of a bone rang in the air.
    His anger burned at what had been done to his
father, what was happening to his brother. What he refused to allow
to happen to his mother and other siblings.
    From deep inside, flames sprung up, rushing
through his blood. His anger sharpened, molten, ready to be forged
into a most dangerous weapon.
    Everything grew drenched with red.
    Strength filled him and he somehow fought
harder, faster, no longer feeling pain or exhaustion.
    The woman called out, and the beasts
stopped.
    But he didn’t, until the air wrapped around
him, freezing him in place.
    The woman from the ship approached, her eye
lit with eagerness. “A berserker. How interesting.”
    From behind him, Eric shouted, rushing
forward to attack the woman. She waved her hand, and he too froze.
The woman looked at them both. “Twins? And both with the powers of
the ancients.” She turned her head and called out, “Gaston, bring
them both. But first, let them watch.”
    Brandon tensed as he found himself watching
the scene not as himself, but an observer.