Mystic Warriors

BOOK ONE: SABRINA AND THE GARGOYLE

"There's a vampire in Cape Town," Sabrina said out loud, desperate, so desperate for it to sound ridiculous, for her suspicions to be preposterous. "Vampires don't exist and even if they did, they wouldn't come to sunny Africa," she told the wolf who followed her out the door of her colorful, pink and purple little house in the Bo-Kaap in Cape Town.

Sabrina carefully made her way to the pink painted stairs and sat down, careful of her evening dress, and hugged her injured knee with her hands.

"No." She made a shooing motion toward the dog that hated her. "You sit over there, you sharp toothed wolf in dog's clothing. I know you're just waiting for a chance to bite me."

The dog gave her a taunting toothy grin and sat down on its haunches a little farther away. An uncommonly large wolf dog with a pitch black coat, almost the same shade as Sabrina's hair, no one would convince her he wasn't one hundred percent wolf. Or something more supernatural. She inched back a little more.

With the back door locked and the front door behind her, no one could get inside the house without her knowing about it. This time Mark wouldn't be able to appear out of thin air and pretend he'd come in through the door.

The aroma of Auntie Koen's cooking wafted over from next door. Colorful houses sloping up toward the mountain sparkled in the sun, looking like fantasy dwellings painted in bright crayon colors. This area had become trendy in the last decade, with foreigners and young professionals moving in. Sabrina was glad that the houses in her street were still mostly occupied by the people who'd lived here when she came to visit her Ouma as a child.

Auntie Kotie's television blasted out the local soap opera for the whole street to hear and Sabrina smiled. She remembered this, coming to visit Ouma, smelling spicy cooking, over-loud televisions broadcasting for the whole street, Ouma's terrible off key singing. Except for Sabrina's husband, the people in this street were her family.

"This time he has to come in through the front door," she told the wolf.

He made a snorting sound, suspiciously like a laugh. The wolf sat regally on his haunches, looking down at the road, like a king awaiting tribute.

When Mark had introduced her to his wolf dog, the animal had taken one look at her, and she'd known if Mark wasn't there, it would've been hate at first bite.

Sabrina leaned even farther away from it. "I think my husband is a vampire and the question becomes, will he suck my blood or am I delusional and soon to be taken away by the men in white coats."

It sounded so ridiculous, her suspicions preposterous. Vampires didn't exist and even if they did, why would one of them marry her?

It was almost a relief to tell someone about her ridiculous suspicions, even if it was only the dog. "I'm being silly. If I tell anyone I suspect my husband is a vampire, they'd send me to the funny farm. And stop laughing at me." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I can change your diet to dog food."

It growled at her. He hated dog food and the one time she tried to give him a doggy treat, he'd nearly bitten her hand off.

She drummed the flat heel of her evening shoes on the step. She'd love to be able to wear sexy high heels again, but with her knee that was impossible.

"If he's a vampire, it would explain his eyes." She massaged her achy knee, trying to act as if her husband's wolf dog didn't scare the spice out of her. As if it was normal to say crazy things to an animal who always looked as if he wanted to take a bite out of her. And more eerily, as if he understood every word she said. She'd hoped Mark would leave the vicious dog somewhere else since her house was small with no garden. Wolf made up for the lack of a garden by visiting with her neighbors, who all spoiled him with choice pieces of meat. Sabrina sighed, she was the only one he hated.

"Hi, Wolf, looking good," Yousef, the sixteen year old son of the couple living opposite her, shouted.

All knees and elbows, his skin was copper brown like hers, but his short curly black hair softened his angular face, while Sabrina always thought her straight hair she wore down to her waist made her prominent cheekbones appear austere.

She smiled at him and waved. "Hi, Yousef."

Wolf barked, visibly lapping up the adoration.

"Who are you talking to?" Mark asked behind her, sounding like sex with the armor- clad lord of a stone castle, old world charm, and lethal danger.

That first time she'd met him at the Christmas bazaar his voice had stroked her nerve ends.

Sabrina jumped on the hard cement stair, her butt coming down again with a small plop. Wolf growled at her. With her hand over her heart she stumbled upright. He stood inside the front door, tall with his aura of danger surrounding him like a dark cloak.

"Mark, you startled me."

The moment she'd first met him his unusual eyes had struck her. White lines flaring out from the pupil cutting into the blue iris like little shards of ice. He'd told her it was a genetic defect. Even though she feared they were vampire eyes, she still thought them beautiful. Those strange eyes of his had a hypnotic effect. Sometimes they mesmerized her until she lost herself, her identity, until she was only aware of belonging to him.

He stepped forward and steadied her with one of those lightning fast movements that wasn't normal. "Careful, you got up too fast."

His hand on her waist was warm and solid. Wouldn't a vampire's hand be cold? Maybe slimy. His thumb moved in a subtle caress, and she relaxed against his solid body. She was average height for a woman and her head only reached to his wide shoulders. Dressed in his usual tailored suit and scuffed boots, he looked like a cross between a modern day pirate and a business man.

"How did you get inside the house? Everything is locked." The knee she'd injured in the car accident, sent pulses of pain through her leg, and she held onto Mark to stay upright. She'd locked the back door, sat on the steps leading to the front door to make sure she saw him arrive. This wasn't the first time he just materialized like a character on a Star Trek episode.

At first, she'd shrugged it off, thinking he must've come home without her noticing. She sometimes got so involved in her sewing that she lost touch with what happened around her.

The sun set, streetlights came on, and Sabrina shivered, clutching her silk shawl closer to her body. The fact that he always appeared at sunset was just a coincidence.

"Kiss me, Sabrina."

The intense way he'd look at her, kiss her, stole her mind. Whenever they'd been apart, when they locked gazes, she always felt like a coveted prize won by a knight about to grab her in his armor-clad arms and ride off with her on his war horse. It was a kind of seduction, being made love to as if she was a prize of conquest.

"Tell me how you managed to appear behind me?"

"You were so busy talking to Wolf, you didn't see me come up the veranda stairs."

It was a plausible explanation, but she didn't believe it. She wasn't that distracted by Wolf or Yusef.

He drew her closer and skimmed a hand over her silk clad hip. "Love the dress." His voice turned husky - bitter chocolate and red wine caressing her senses.

"Kiss me, Sabrina. Now."

He kissed her, the way he always kissed her when they had been apart for even an hour. Passionate, addictive kisses that claimed her as his all over again. Hot kisses that made all her doubts disappear, a hot melding of their lips and tongues. If she stuck her finger into a live wire, she doubted her system would get the zing it got from his touch. Each kiss from him was lovers-meeting-in-secret hot. Each time he did that, he stole a little bit of her soul. She'd never get enough of his taste - dark bitter chocolate and sweet red wine, that's what he tasted like. His body was taut and warm against her, inviting her hands to roam over his biceps.

She loved that he was muscled, almost bulky, stronger than any man should be. Until she'd noticed his odd abilities, it made her feel safe.

She loved this beautiful man of hers, and she loved the way he kissed, but this was also a chance to explore. She swept her tongue over his teeth, tapping his incisors. He drew back and frowned down at her. "What are you doing?"

She widened her eyes, tried to look innocent. "Nothing."

"Why do you want to feel my teeth?"

"I didn't. I just got lost in the kiss." No way was she telling him she thought he might be a vampire.

Lately. that sense of something ominous about her husband had intensified. His gaze would burn, and more than once he'd appeared out of thin air. An aura of danger surrounded him - a sense of danger more intense every day.

She smoothed the cream and gold woven material of her evening dress over her hip. His dark eyes followed the motion, heated until they scorched her. His desire for her she never doubted. She moved her hands up, and cupped her ribs, her fingers against the underside of her breasts, enjoying the way he followed the movement - hopefully forgetting she'd tried to feel if he had vampire teeth.

"So you and Wolf are talking now."

"He was his usual friendly self." She gestured vaguely behind her to the dog at her back, while she faced the predator in front of her.

"You'll get used to him, eventually."

"I failed my very first girlfriend test because of him."

Did he realize that her smile was forced? Could he see her suspicion at the way he materialized behind her?

Mark took the long black strand of hair she'd left hanging at her temple in a sixties style hairdo, playing it through his fingers. "You can never fail any girlfriend test."

Only that small touch sent flutters to her stomach.

Sometimes when he held her, she had the impression of enormous strength held in check. It always gave her opposing feelings of safety and danger. The dog growled and she jumped, half afraid it would bite her in the butt.

"He's harmless, Sabrina."

It wasn't his behind that was in danger of having a bite taken out of it. She made a gesture toward the dog behind her and then thought twice about waving her hand anywhere near those teeth. "Tell that to your wolf."

"He's just a dog, Sabrina," he drawled in that sexy faintly accented voice.

Ukrainian by birth, he'd left the country young to explore the world. Developing that generic English-almost-American accent travelers usually acquired.

"I don't think I'll ever believe he's just a dog," she said.

"Forget about Wolf. I approve of the dress." He moved his hand up and down her waist, pressing and gliding over her flesh. She loved the way his gaze heated, the sheer lust she saw whenever he looked at her. Pleasure exploded everywhere he touched and she moved closer to his seductive heat.

"Thanks. What time do we have to be there?" She'd rather stay at home and spend a quiet evening with Mark, or a not-so-quiet evening, making love, but he insisted on these business functions. They'd only been married three months and, sometimes in her darkest moments, she wondered if she made a very dangerous mistake marrying someone she only knew two weeks before their marriage. Their love life was better than she ever dreamed of having. Sometimes she'd find him looking at her with a kind of ruthless purpose that scared her.