Blade Heart

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Blade Heart

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-345-1

  ©Copyright Chris Lange 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-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, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-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 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 284 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 3 pages.

  BLADE HEART

  Chris Lange

  Because she trusted him the fate of the world is in her hands…

  Icon of the United States of America, New York is Cara’s city—until one sunny afternoon when she wakes up in a beautiful meadow. Light clouds float in the blue sky, a mild breeze dances in the branches of a maple tree and the air smells of freshness. But New York has disappeared.

  When Cara opens her eyes, she finds a complete stranger standing too close for comfort and he seems to know all about her. If she wants to find her way back home she must stay with him. Obnoxious as he appears, she has to turn to him for protection when confronted with enemies she never knew she had.

  These enemies know of an ancient prophecy. They believe Cara is the only one who can change it and they will do anything to stop her.

  As Cara tries to outwit and outrun them, her heart starts to beat for the stranger. Only to discover that his heart is dead.

  Dedication

  To my family for their unconditional love and support

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

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

  Hard Rock Café: Seminole Tribe of Florida

  Circle Line Sightseeing: Circle Line Sightseeing Cruises

  Lord of the Rings: New Line Cinema

  Chapter One

  “Keep on doing this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  The masculine voice penetrated her beautiful dream—invaded it. Still, she felt so at peace in her fantasy that she tried to hang on to the vivid images. Eyes closed, she lay on her side at the foot of a maple tree in the heart of a bright meadow. Her head rested on the blanket she held in one of her hands. Birds chirped above, their song carried by the amorous whispers of a spring breeze.

  Far away a cow mooed, and the bellowing sound seemed to float in the air. Golden rays gleamed through her eyelids, stroked her arms, and enveloped her body in a warm embrace. The smell of fresh grass caressed her nose and she inhaled slowly to capture the verdant fragrance. Her heart filled with an inner peace she didn’t want to let go of, she kept her eyes shut and curled her hand tighter around the blanket.

  “I said keep on doing this and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  That voice again. The rough undertone jostled through her wonderful fantasy, weaved its way into it to dispel the peaceful vision beyond the wavering meadow. God, but she wished so much to stay there. Lips parted, she exhaled a long sigh before opening her eyelids.

  She didn’t see a green, grassy field but some kind of brownish cloth very much resembling suede. Actually what she had taken for a blanket seemed to be the front of a pair of pants. As if she was an outside observer she studied her hand pressed against the tight fabric, her fingers splayed over a lump. Funny enough, the hard lump felt alive.

  Her gaze travelled up, taking in the curious belt around his waist, the light brown shirt opened at the neck, the square jaw covered with the stubble of several nights, the full lips, the piercing green eyes regarding her with… What? Certainly not hesitancy.

  She looked down again, her mind seemingly still caught in the dream and not yet ready to function. As she tensed her fingers to apprehend reality, the mass hardened under her palm. Eyes widening, she stared at her hand as if the limb had become an independent part of her body. Oh, God, she was holding the private parts of a total stranger.

  The shocking realisation had her rolling over in a heartbeat, landing on her back with a dizzy feeling. But in doing so, she had pushed against the tight lump to gather momentum.

  “Ouch! That’s not the way to treat a man.”

  Although she wanted nothing more than to let her mind wander in the blue depths of the cloudless sky above or maybe dive back into her oblivious dream, she cast him a quick glance.

  He winced, his back straight against the sturdy maple tree of her dream, his legs spread out. Notwithstanding the fact that her head had been resting on his hard thigh for God knew how long, she had fondled his… No, she didn’t want to think about this now.

  A perfect stranger he was and ‘perfect’ appeared like the precise term to describe him. As he stood up to do some pulling around his crotch she felt her breath surging out of her lungs. So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.

  Her heart hopped. Her stomach swivelled. She sat up in an attempt to brush aside her body’s impulsive reactions, but the bright rays of the sun cascading down on him and enhancing his maleness didn’t help. Who was he? Why had she been napping with his thigh as a pillow? And beautiful as the meadow was, how had she ended up here?

  While trying to control her erratic pulse, she noticed her own clothes. Leather boots laced around her ankles and calves, black suede pants and open-necked shirt loose enough to allow freedom of movement, her outfit appeared similar to his but with a feminine cut. Hung around her neck, a piece of something shiny rested between her breasts.

  “Time to go.”

  His sharp tone interrupted her new discovery. She looked up to find him straightening the belt around his waist while checking the position of two daggers on his hips. Now who walked around with that kind of weapon? If he did feel threatened in a quiet meadow, why not use guns?

  When he bent down to the foot of the tree to pick up the long dark cloak he had been sitting on, she realised he hadn’t been talking to himself, but he expected her to follow him.

  “I don’t know you and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Good thing I wasn’t asking for your opinion then.”

  She jumped to her feet as he flung the cloak over his right shoulder then extracted a piece of leather string from the pouch at his belt. But she didn’t leap fast enough to avoid his dangerous nearness. Although he scanned their deserted surroundings, he seemed focused solely on her.

  “Give me your hands.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  She took a step back, her attention fixed on the leather string he fiddled with. Did he really mean to tie her up? Insane as the idea sounded, the stranger’s resolute stance showed his sudden impatience to be
on the move. To go where? And why would he want her to accompany him? Whatever his destination, she wouldn’t be a part of it.

  “Look, this is some kind of mistake. I’ve never seen you in my life and I have no intention of going with you.”

  A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, but his gaze remained frozen while he reached out to her.

  “Didn’t I mention I’m not interested in your opinion?”

  She took three steps back this time, a small knot moving up and down her dry throat. A cow bellowed again in the distance, probably the same one. A light breeze ruffled her hair and the man in front of her waited. Without daring to shift her attention she cocked her head.

  “God, who are you?”

  “No time for niceties. I’m dead and we need to find a shelter for the night. It’s getting late.”

  In spite of his rigid attitude and icy glare he looked so damn alive that she almost laughed in his face. Yet she had been distracted. A single stride and he grabbed her wrists to twirl the string around them so fast she could only gasp. When he let go, her hands were fastened up, though not so much as to induce pain. Shifting her eyes from her fingers to his face, she stammered before swallowing the knot in her throat.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Let’s go.”

  He turned round and started walking down the gentle slope, crushing grass under his boots. She stared at his straight back, feeling like he was trampling her beautiful fantasy. Although she didn’t want to follow him, the thought of spending the whole night alone by the maple tree with her hands tied didn’t appeal to her. No, it didn’t.

  The sunny warmth on her skin already felt cooler. Like a heavy ball, the sun had sunk to the west, its rays no longer brightening the verdant meadow. Also heading west, the man now didn’t seem to care if she followed. Or he knew she would. Alarmed by the coming darkness, fearful of hungry, wild animals, she had no choice but to go after the stranger. She moved.

  “Hey, you, wait up!”

  He did stop at the sound of her voice, but he kept facing ahead. With her wrists linked she had to find a new balance to manage the slope. Not easy. Step by step she caught up with him and wondered why he regarded her as if something was wrong with her. He was the one with free hands, damn it!

  Intent on not falling, she had a hard time shielding a thousand questions from spinning in her mind. So many interrogations going round and round that she thought she might go mad.

  By contrast the man appeared to know exactly what he was doing. But where had he come from and why this peculiar need to fasten her to his side? Had he asked she would have been willing to go with him anyway, simply to not stay alone in this unknown land.

  Come to think of it, why had she been sleeping in the meadow? How had she ended up there? On his lap to top it all! So many inexplicable issues that felt like pinpricks piercing her brain. Yet as the sun dipped below the horizon, she felt unable to keep out the most important question of all.

  Where had New York gone?

  Chapter Two

  At dusk they were still walking abreast on the same small path. By nightfall the Big Apple was still nowhere in sight, and they had reached the outskirts of a village. Pretty small by the look of it, the cluster of crumbling houses surprised her. They looked to be made of clay and straw.

  Dim lights glowed through some windows, deserted alleyways disappeared into the heart of the night and half a dozen horses were lodged in an open-to-all-winds stable. The whole thing gave the impression of standing in the middle of a medieval village—or in a fairytale without castles and dungeons. In this day and age how come such tumbledown shacks still existed?

  They had been travelling on a dusty path without exchanging a single word. She had stared at his back most of the time, a tiny grin lighting her face when she had noticed he kept his shoulder-length, chestnut hair tied low with a piece of leather string. The same kind he had secured her hands with. So rather than binding helpless women he had another use for them. Good to know!

  The stranger took her arm to push her inside one of the poorly constructed houses. Hoping the roof wouldn’t collapse, she stumbled inside and grabbed the corner of a long counter for support. A bug crawled past her tied hands. Heart in her mouth, she squealed. He grumbled behind her but swatted the tiny creature with his fist. She shivered as the crushing sound raised fine hairs on the nape of her neck. What was this place?

  To think she had been alarmed by the shabby condition of the establishment now felt like an understatement. Although the roof had appeared to be made of straw that might not hurt too much after all in case of an impromptu cave-in. But big, fat, yucky bugs!

  For that matter what else could it be called but an establishment? Sitting around large square, wooden tables, several men were drinking beer from tin goblets, smoking odd-shaped pipes and playing cards with coppery coins. The room stank of sweat.

  Taking her eyes away from the men, she realised the whole place appeared lit only by candles. There were no light switches on the clay walls, no electric sockets near skirting boards. How else, given that there were no skirting boards either.

  The jangling noise of coins hitting the counter pulled her out of her dismay. It also attracted the innkeeper. He emerged from a back room, his massive body forcing him to drag his feet. After looking at her bound limbs for the briefest instant, he registered the tall stranger behind her and offered them a single-toothed smile. Prisoners must be common practice in this neck of the woods.

  “Welcome to my inn. I trust the room will be to your satisfaction. First floor, third door on your left.”

  The offered copper coins were picked up in a swift motion, a large key passed from one hand to another and a slight shove on her shoulder bone quickly prompted her to the bottom of a set of stairs. A little startled, she climbed the ancient, creaky, wooden planks without glancing back. No need, she could feel his towering presence right behind her.

  Her first impulse when they entered the not-quite-spotless room was to check for bugs. His was to light a few candles around the place. The glow reassured her regarding the absence of creepy creatures.

  Once her mind was at rest—for the time being—she watched him remove a thin blanket and a large pillow from the bed to drop them down at his feet. True, he hadn’t acted like a gentleman up to this point, but he was making up for it. The four-poster bed with iron columns in each corner was hers.

  Suppressing a grin, she figured they’d be alone in the same room for the night to come. So why not clear things up between them before misunderstandings settled in? She closed the short distance separating her from the stranger.

  “My name is Cara.”

  “I know.”

  He knew. Of course, why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t like they had just met in a strange place and exchanged more than ten sentences. Wishing she had the leisure of rubbing her temples, she took a deep breath.

  “Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you? Are you getting back at me because I touched your…your…?”

  “It’s called a sex. I can’t say you have a way with men though.”

  The unexpected glint of amusement shining in his eyes irritated her even more than his mocking words. She stamped her foot on the creaky floor.

  “I wasn’t having a way with you. It was an accident.”

  He didn’t comment, just watched her rising chest as well as the sudden flush she could feel heating up her cheeks. Under his unflinching scrutiny, all the questions she had struggled to block out of her mind rushed back. Like a swelling siren song they surged forward and lured her to face facts.

  She remembered her name. She vividly recalled New York, the busiest city in the world swarming with people, and Times Square alight with thousands of attractive, blinding neon signs. But nothing else.

  Fear hit her hard. Not the scary-obstacle-to-overcome kind, but the real deal—the terrifying spectre born of total loss and utter lack of understanding. Suddenly weak, her knees
buckled. She gestured as if to grab the nearest chair, but she had forgotten the leather string around her wrists.

  With both arms diving to the side she lost her balance. Cara saw the bed leap up and realised her forehead would strike the column at the corner. As she closed her eyes he jumped in front of her. Twisting his body, he shielded her while his shoulder smashed into the iron post. She heard his grunt of pain just before they tumbled onto the bed.

  Legs entwined, lips inches apart, her hands caught between their navels, they stared at each other. She wondered if she read relief in the beautiful eyes, but changed her mind when he spoke.

  “How about giving me a little treat like you did earlier? I know you don’t have a way with men, but try to be gentle this time.”

  He had just saved her from getting injured. He deserved a ‘thank you’, and any sane man would have been expecting one. Not him, though. As if the situation he’d got tangled in bore no relation to him, his mind had wandered to a different place. Cara poked his stomach in an attempt to roll him off her.

  “I wasn’t ‘treating’ you. In my dream I mistook you for a blanket. And why am I telling you this anyway? God, I don’t even know your name.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  His body hard against hers didn’t move an inch. The pain in his shoulder must have been short-lived because she could feel his arousal on the back of her hand. The bulge pressing her skin grew.

  The muscles on the inside of her thighs quivered, nerve endings igniting a warm ripple that coursed from her toes up to her belly. When his hard-on stretched his pants, a rush of moistness between her legs caught her by surprise.

  Suffocated by the sharp sensation, Cara only managed a whisper. “No, I don’t.”