Eclipsed Heart

October 9, 1989

Damon

Red hues bathed his squadmates, Motley Crue blasting in the background. Conversations are muted, laughter hollow as they approach the jump point.

Red flashes to green, doors opening and they file out, silent and invisible in the stygian closeness.

Silence turns to chaos, darkness exploding with tracer rounds and then the screams.

After that it’s just random flashes, parachutes streaming, guns on the ground, claws digging deep and blood like a river.

Damon woke up with his heart pounding, drenched in sweat, and overwhelmed by sensory memories that left his beast writhing in sorrow and guilt. He’d lost two squad mates on that mission. No matter how many of the enemy fell beneath bullets and claws that night, nothing would bring them back.

Rolling off the mattress, he padded to the bathroom. The face that looked back at him in the mirror was the same one, blue eyes that looked tired, sharp features, and a high and tight trim on jet-black hair. He was young, 28, and in his prime but in that solemn gaze lay a wealth of experience.

Grimacing, the restlessness came back with a vengeance and Damon dug through his bag till he found the workout clothes from yesterday morning. They passed the sniff test so he yanked them on impatiently. Slipping out the back door with Jeff’s keys zipped into the inner pocket of his windbreaker, he headed for the beach.

Maybe a run would peel off some of the angst. It’s why he was here instead of back at Coronado. Jeff convinced him that Fleet Week with the Bay Bridge in the background would be way better than helping with BUDS training down in San Diego. Truthfully, there was nothing better to do, he and the squad were stateside till the debrief and next mission. He’d spent the better part of the week dodging the psych crew and with the full moon so close, he knew he’d have time to pull it together before they’d start digging around about his mental state.

The moon hung high over the water of the bay, light dancing on waves with pinpoints of light but Damon saw none of it, his bare feet digging deep in the cold, wet sand with an unceasing rhythm while his mind raced. That last mission, bad intel cost them two people, with four more SEALs on his squad wounded and his mind chewed over just whose fault it was. He shouldered that burden the moment he’d woken up in triage and still seemed unwilling to let go of blame that didn’t belong on his shoulders.

A sharp, shrill scream cut through the introspection, bringing his head up and around as he slowed to a stop. The lion deep in him rose, filling till the sensation of being too big for the human that held it. He hit the edges of the physical body at speed but it couldn’t rise fully, chemicals the Navy fed him to keep the beast under control still making it too sluggish.

Head cocked, Damon pinpointed the direction, further up the coast near the water, and took off like a shot. Kicking up sand in a blur to any onlooker wandering the moonlit night, he flew down the beach, spotting the woman and three attackers near the water’s edge.

There was no hesitation, hitting them at full speed and scattering them like bowling pins as he blocked the female who stood in the water. Teeth bared, canines elongated, the roar of warning he gave left little doubt as to just what he was. A quick inhale marked them as human, the stench of arousal, alcohol, and sweat making his nose wrinkle as he balled a fist up.

“Who the fuck you think you are?” One man got up, swarthy and dressed in club togs, pulling up the edge of his shirt to reveal a pearl-handled pistol tucked in the waistband of his slacks.

Damon didn’t answer, backhanding that one with a crack of skin on skin and rounding on the chubby one still trying to get to his feet with a foot sweep, sending him back down with thump. A flurry of pops sounded from a distance, rage dampening the senses as the acrid hit of sulfur made the lion chuff angrily.

Bullets burned when they ripped through flesh but he felt nothing except an exploding fury as he spun on his heel, moving so fast the one with the gun couldn’t pull the trigger again before Damon was on him, picking him up in a two-armed tomo nage throw that sent the last attacker flying a dozen yards down the beach into the tidal waters with a splash.

The lion inside him slashed at the bonds holding it back as blood ran in scarlet rivulets down his side. Underneath the copper, the beast picked up tendrils of death approaching from the roadside of the beach, the stink of the undead. Fucking fangs.

Turning to face a new threat, his eyes bled out to the gold of the savannah grasses and Damon waited. Two men approached, both dressed in bodyguard black and pulling guns from shoulder holsters. He could smell the silver ammo from where he stood and for the first time, rational thoughts finally made it through the animalistic rage. The problem was the human survival instinct said run, the beast just saw another outlet for the animalistic ferocity.

The original attackers took one look and turned tail, making tracks down the beach with impressive speed which left him squared off two to one, outgunned and all because leap before you look had become his catchphrase lately.

The woman behind him appeared almost magically, naked, blonde tendrils of her hair wet and dark, clinging to her curves. The moonlight made her skin look milky and flawless as she stared down the vampires, oblivious of her nudity. The vampires seemed uncaring as well.

“Get out of the way Iara, he’s dangerous.”

“He saved my life!” Her voice had the lilt of an accent he didn’t recognize, melodic, and in an instant, Damon was captivated, danger fading as something else tingled along the edges of his awareness.

She must have sensed it too, turning to stare up at him with wide-spaced, dark doe eyes. Petite but curved in all the right places, her face reminded him of one of the paintings he’d seen in the San Diego Museum of Art, classic lines and a petite nose with the softest-looking set of lips that he’d ever seen.

“Iara MOVE!”

Turning, hair whipping around her face in wet ropes she glared at the pair, her anger making the last of Damon’s evaporate in confusion. As the adrenaline faded, the pain rose, a dull ache along his back and under his ribs that began to fog his senses a bit.

“No, I will not move.” That soft trill of accent made a shiver run the length of his spine and some part of the human side buried under the animal instinct to survive shook its head in disbelief at that kind of reaction coming up with death staring them in the face.

One vamp bared fangs and Damon roared in warning, the lion in the depths of his psyche beginning to shred through the vestiges of the drug in its attempt to break the skin. He knew it was the moon, so close to full he could feel it like fire along his exposed skin, speeding healing but nothing that would save his ass from silver.

It was something about this girl. THIS girl.

“Hombre tonto, tranquilo.” Hissing at him over a shoulder, she faced the vampire with bravado, a proud stance with shoulders squared despite the bare flesh. “He saved me and he will go without either of you doing a thing.”

The beast disagreed, rumble in Damon’s chest like a cat’s purr only more of a rend you limb from limb threat.

Without warning, the woman half turned and slapped his shoulder, the touch electrifying. “Aye eres un idioto?, just go!” Their eyes met and he felt it again, a sizzle that made even his beast sit up and pay attention.

Her pupils dilated and a ghost of a smile appeared before she gave him another shove. “Go before they stop listening to me.”

Damon fought the urge to grab her and run, a task made harder by the sudden pull of heat blossoming in his gut. Shaking it off with effort, he gave one last look at the guards before spinning and taking off down the beach.

******************************************************************

Damon took the long way back to Jeff’s apartment, blood-smeared clothes and still seeping wounds bound to garner questions he was unwilling to answer. It meant an extra twenty minutes of parkour that undid much of the little healing boost he’d gotten at the beach. It didn’t help that his lion writhed with the need to run and keeping that under control took a lot of his energy. The benefit would be healing but with the Somatadine still in his bloodstream, shifting back could take longer than expected and he’d hate to go AWOL for that kinda reason.

When he finally unlocked the door with crimson-streaked hands, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Kicking off his shoes in the entryway, Damon padded back to the kitchen, yanking off his shirt to press to the wound as best he could. Jeff probably wouldn’t appreciated a blood trail on the carpet,

That’s where his friend found him, rummaging through the towel drawer with the sink running on full blast.

“What the fuck did you get into?” Opening his palms in a gesture of goodwill, the other male approached. Jeff wasn’t a shifter, he was a full-on human and his best friend since they’d gone through boot camp in the same unit. Damon opted for BUDS training after his first year and Jeff followed the support pathway but that never stopped the camaraderie or easy back and forth, even after Damon told him about his condition. The man just knew you didn’t run up on a werelion the week before the full moon, the clapback would hurt.

Damon put the makeshift towel/t-shirt down and glanced over at his friend, kind of dazed. He’d run over the entire encounter over and over and he just couldn’t get those eyes out of his head. And her scent, it must have rubbed off on his clothes when she slapped at him. He noticed it when he pulled the shirt over his head, something like jasmine on sun-warmed skin with the salt of the ocean underneath.

Jeff tapped Damon’s shoulder gently. “DUDE! Are you okay?”

“I met a girl.”

Jeff snorted in amusement and searched his buddy’s face with a touch of worry. “And she shot you? I’m thinking this isn’t meant to be.”

Shaking his head to knock the cobwebs back, Damon grabbed the towel again. “Can you grab something to help me dig the bullets out? It takes too long to work them out naturally when they’re in this deep.”

“Being your friend is a pain in the ass sometimes.” Jeff grumbled all the way to the kitchen.

Damon chuckled and moved one of the dining room chairs into the center of the room, turning it around and sitting so he could rest his arms on the back.

“If you want me able to conform to the busy social schedule you’ve set out for the weekend, we do this or I end up changing bandages every two hours.”

Jeff slapped the first aid kit between them, grin wide and obnoxious. “Or you could just wear black and quit whining about it like a little girl.”

October 9, 1989

Iara

Oddly enough, the men coming upon her had been unfortunate and fortuitous at the same time. She’d walked the beaches for over a century and they were always about, peering from around trees had escalated to threats which necessitated the guards. It wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself with the water lapping around her waist like a gentle caress, guards were just easier and Darius insisted.

Her magic lay in the water, the sea specifically. A generational ability passed down for millennia, each member of her family on the female side had an affinity for water. Her grandmother had whispered about a curse when they left Spain for the new world, a new world that held so much promise.

But it meant one thing. Her need to feel the ocean on her skin often brought her to the sea almost nightly, whether Darius’ social schedule allowed for it or not. No stranger to compulsion, his understanding of her unique foibles made for a stronger bond but this might just test it because of him.

The beast to her beauty.

A powerhouse in a delicious package.

The man who dashed to her rescue felt different. Iara sensed the lion that lay within the depths of him, a ferocious creature with a mane tipped in black and power that seemed muted by a wet cloth. Something else flowed just beneath that though, it’s what her abuela called sangre de la serpiente, the blood of the serpent. For her family, those with the bloodlines bonded on a spiritual level, the protectors of the witches who ran the waterways.

In over a century, she’d never run across one, either in the islands or here in California.

Until now.

When one crashed into her world like a tidal wave, the sizzle of attraction made her knees weak in a way that Darius never had.

You’ve been naughty.

His voice in her head brought her attention back to her surroundings, she noticed that Vice’s hand was wrapped around a cell. It brought a frown and the tempo of the waves lapping at her hips suddenly increased.

Not really. I was behaving. I did not ask for company. Even to her, the tone of her comment seemed petulant.

You liked it. I can feel it.

Iara pondered a tiny white lie but Darius would know. I liked him. Even in her mind, she emphasized the pronoun.

Do you want him?

She pondered his tone, wondering if he meant like the werelion in a sexual manner or if she wanted him naked and gift-wrapped by sunset.

I could do either. It’s up to you pet.

Giggling, Iara caught the satisfied look on Vice’s face at what he imagined was her getting chastised and without blinking sent a spout of water directly at the vampire’s crotch, soaking the expensive fabric and running down his legs.

Vice growled and she couldn’t hide the mischievous curl to her plump lips. The vampire wouldn’t touch her, it wasn’t allowed. As his ‘bride’, Iara was free to roam as she wanted within reason. This was not typical of most blood-bound servants, though Iara considered herself a companion, not property. Other vampires rarely indulged that though but she had a different skill set than most.

You are such a trial

“Darius said we have to bring his minion back to the haven. Sun’s on the way up.” Bran remained expressionless, but from the set of his mouth, he was just as annoyed as the other male but much drier in the physical sense.

So you say. Admit it you’d have been bored to tears after a decade here without me to liven things up. Her tone was gently teasing with no small amount of confidence.

So true. You’ll have to tell me about your savior when you get here.

Iara’s stomach clenched. Piquing a vampire’s interest didn’t bode well for the handsome stranger who’d raced to her rescue.