Sins of the Father

by JJ King

  Something shifted. The pain inside her head dimmed the tiniest bit, moving away from her just enough to give birth to hope. Katherine ground her teeth together and pressed her hands against the floor, pushing with all her might. She managed to drag her leg so that she was crouched, still bent over clutching her head as spasms of agony pulsed with every beat of her heart.

  Sounds began to filter through the pain. Glass breaking and voices she couldn’t place shouting for everyone to “Get down!” Katherine flattened herself on the floor and prayed that somehow the cavalry had arrived. She didn’t know who that could possibly be, but she prayed nonetheless. A second later, Katherine gasped, realizing she could think clearly enough now to think, to hear, to…

  Katherine pried her eyes open and twisted into a defensive stance, still holding her head, which spasmed with unholy agony and saw Malachi, crouched on the floor behind the overturned table. His eyes were wild, shifting back and forth from the bodies of fallen Council members and back to her.

  His gaze locked on hers as he realized she was alert. Katherine saw him narrow his eyes and felt the press of his power on her again, but she was already moving. She threw her body forward and crashed into him, throwing him back against the table. She yelled as the pain broke, freeing her from its grip, and grabbed Malachi by the shoulders.

  He growled at her and stared, sending another wave of hot agony shooting through Katherine’s head. She screamed at the new onslaught and reached again to protect herself. Blood ran from her nose, dripping down onto Malachi’s white shirt and her world went black and white, save for that growing pool of blood.

  Katherine gasped the second she was free. It was gone; the pain, the pressure, all of it, was gone. She opened her eyes and saw Malachi still glaring at her, still smirking at his perceived control.

  “Katherine!” Sylvie’s voice snapped Katherine out of the shock that had immobilized her. She tore her gaze away from her mother’s glorious face and grasped Malachi’s shoulders again.

  “Go to Hell, asshole!” She tilted her head down and crashed it into Malachi’s forehead, leaving her momentarily stunned. But as the fog cleared, Katherine saw her childhood defense against her younger brothers’ attacks had worked. Malachi lay slumped against the table unconscious.

  Katherine climbed to her feet and froze, disbelieving the scene in her father’s office. The room was in ruins; the furniture ripped to shreds, the rugs covered in blood. Even the bookshelves had been destroyed, but none of that was what caught and held her attention.

  Her mother stood in the middle of the room, covered in cuts and bruises and blood, surrounded by women who looked ready to take down an army, which, Katherine supposed they just had. She looked from one to the next and recognized some as women she’d met during her world travels. Many were from prominent households, some the wives and daughters of Alphas.

  A few women secured the guards, who were mostly unconscious, while others slipped needles filled with a clear liquid into the Alphas’ necks. Sedatives, Katherine figured.

  “Are you alright? Your brothers are all fine.” Sylvie stepped closer and reached out her hand, helping Katherine step over the table. Katherine took it, she didn’t need the help, but it felt good to feel her mother’s hand. She didn’t let go once she was over, instead she stepped into her mother’s arms and stayed there, holding her for a moment.

  “How…” Katherine mumbled the question, unable to make sense of how the tides had turned.

  “I’m immune, remember.” Sylvie smoothed her hand over Katherine’s hair, holding her close, “and so is every Alpha’s wife. It gave us the advantage.” She squeezed Katherine again.

  It felt so good in her mother’s arms, Katherine thought, but she couldn’t stay there. She had to break her mother’s heart, again. Katherine summoned what strength she had left and pulled back from Sylvie’s welcoming embrace. She looked her mother in the eye and delivered the blow, “It was Malachi, Mom. He ordered Dad’s murder.”

  Sylvie’s entire body went stiff and her gaze sliced across the room to where Malachi lay unmoving on the floor, where Katherine had left him. Someone had already sedated him, so he was as vulnerable as he would ever be. Katherine held her breath and waited for her mother’s reaction.

  Sylvie’s jaw clenched as she stared at the heinous man and tears filled her eyes, though they refused to spill free. Through gritted teeth she growled, “I’m not like him. I’m not a murderer He’ll pay for what he’s done.” Sylvie closed her eyes and just held onto Katherine. “At least we know,” she murmured. “Now my Pierre can rest.” She hugged Katherine one more time, then turned and walked away, not looking back at Malachi once.

  Katherine took a deep breath and looked down to where Quinn had fallen. There was blood there now but no Quinn. She glanced around the room, fear sending her heartbeat into overdrive and nearly cried when she saw one of the women helping him onto the couch that had just been righted. Katherine ran across the room and sank down next to him, careful not to hurt him while she covered his face with kisses.

  After she was certain he was alright, Katherine slapped him on the arm and scowled, “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

  Quinn chuckled, wincing at the pain it caused, “You too. Thought I told you to stay down.”

  “In your dreams buddy.” Katherine smoothed a strand of unruly hair from his forehead then laid her head against his and whispered, “We made it.”

  Katherine raised her head and looked around the room again, looking for the two women she called sisters. A new kind of pain tightened her throat, threatening to steal her breath, until a familiar laugh sounded from just outside the door and Daphne appeared, right next to Rose.

  Katherine raced across the room and enveloped them in a hug that left them all laughing in utter relief. Neither of them spoke, they just grinned and let the tears come as they stood in a circle, holding one another.

  “Katherine,” Sylvie interrupted, calling out from near the ruined French doors, “come here for a moment. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Sorry,” Katherine apologized, choking back the joy that made her want to just cry and stay where she was, “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” Katherine turned and crossed to her mother who was talking with a woman Katherine vaguely recognized. She automatically took the hand offered and shook.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, Katherine,” the woman said, her voice rounded with the sound of Scotland. “Your mother has been bragging about you for years.”

  Katherine scrambled to put a name to the face, but it fled the closer she got to it. She smiled politely and looked at her mother for help.

  Sylvie came to her aid. “Katherine, I would like you to meet Lady Adeline MacLaren.”

  Katherine shook the woman’s hand, still trying to place her face and nodded respectfully. This was obviously someone her mother held in high esteem.

  Lady MacLaren nodded back, surprising Katherine, and pulled her hand gently back. “Well,” she said, sweeping her gaze over the chaos, “this is hardly the situation in which I’d hoped we’d meet, but I will be forever grateful we were here when the need arose.” She looked Katherine up and down, making her feel suddenly self-conscious over her ripped and bloody clothes. Somehow the woman had come through the battle unscathed. “Our world has just changed,” she grinned triumphantly, “hopefully for the better, and you played a big part in that. You should be proud of yourself.” With that Lady MacLaren enveloped Katherine in a tight hug and murmured in her ear, “Welcome to the Sisterhood.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Keme, for the last time, I’m fine, the baby’s fine.” Daphne pushed Keme’s hand away from her stomach as she changed into non-bloody clothes, and shook her head. If he was already this protective of their little one, she couldn’t imagine how fierce a father he’d be when he or she arrived. “How’s your mother doing?” She asked, hoping the question would distract his concerned pawing. Not that she minded a little
pawing, but when it was every few minutes even after she’d been cleared by Sylvie’s doctor, it got annoying.

  “She’s healing well and resting for the night,” Keme retrieved a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Daphne held her tongue as he twisted the cap off before he handed it to her, reminding herself that he’d been frantic when the fighting had started, especially after he’d seen his mother shot. He deserved a day or so of fussing. “I told Dad.” Keme disappeared into the bathroom for a second to grab a towel to dry his freshly washed hair.

  “Whoa,” Daphne gaped at him, shocked that he’d chosen to tell his father so soon. But, she supposed, Jacob would have found out soon enough and keeping secrets from those you loved was never a good idea. She knew from experience. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” Keme held up his hands and shrugged, “literally nothing about her. He just grunted, “I’ll be there soon,” and hung up. I don’t know what to expect.”

  Daphne whistled, “Well, I’m not one for melodrama, but I can’t imagine what that reunion is going to be like. We should make popcorn!”

  Keme chuckled and tossed the damp towel into the hamper, “Weirdo,” he grinned at her, adoration gleaming in his eyes. He paused, the laughter in his gaze dying as awareness took its place, and crossed the room. Daphne’s core awakened with instant desire.

  Daphne raked her eyes over her mate. Just looking at him and thinking of having his arms wrapped around her, made her shudder and he wasn’t even touching her yet.

  Keme smiled at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and took that last step toward her. His hand lifted to caress her cheek, then cupped her chin and tilted it up so she was staring into those gorgeous eyes of his.

  Daphne’s hand went to his waist to steady herself, her other hand floating up to rest above his heart. His pulse raced as he finally leaned down and softly moved his lips against hers. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes in bliss.

  His tongue slowly traced the outline of her lips. Daphne opened to deepen the kiss, thinking that she never wanted it to end. A moment later, Keme hesitated, pulling back to look down at her with questions in his eyes. Daphne shook her head in exasperation and fisted her fingers through his hair, growling low in her throat at the man she loved, “I’m fine, now make love to me.”

  “Yes ma’am,” was his only response.

  Daphne’s laugh rang out like a bell as Keme scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the room, depositing her on the bed gently. Daphne scooted back, making him crawl across the covers to reach her, and grinned saucily when he brought up solid on her extended foot.

  Keme lifted her leg to his shoulder and slid his hand over the bare skin of her ankle while his lips brushed over her inner calf. Daphne shivered with anticipation, the need for her mate growing with each passing second. She watched him, his eyes growing heavy with desire, and her heart pulsed, feeling too big for her chest.

  “I love you,” Daphne whispered, her eyes heavy with emotion.

  Keme looked up and his eyes softened. He lowered her leg and moved to hover above her, his mouth just inches away from hers. “I love you, too. More than I could ever tell you.” His lips touched her again, softly, like the tips of a feather floating across her skin. With a sigh, Daphne thrust her hands into his thick hair and licked out her tongue, tasting him, urging him on.

  Her tactics worked. Keme tilted his head and crushed his mouth to hers, feasting on her until Daphne’s heart felt like it would burst. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit down, licking it after to soothe the sting. Keme responded by lowering his mouth to her chin, her ear, her neck, kissing and sucking every inch of her while she mewled and arched into his heat.

  Daphne couldn’t keep her hands still, she needed to touch him. She moved her fingers down over his wide shoulders and thrilled at the defined muscles she could feel through his velvety skin. God, he’s perfection, she marveled, reaching ever lower.

  The waistband of his underwear met her seeking hands and she growled finding it. Daphne pulled back from Keme’s mouth and peered up at him through heavy eyelids, feeling all kinds of sexy. “Take it off,” she demanded, biting down on her bottom lip.

  Keme obeyed, climbing to his feet on the bed. Without taking his eyes off hers, he slowly lowered his boxers inch by inch until his impressively hard manhood sprang free.

  Daphne licked her lips, not caring that it made her look like a porn star. He was beautiful, and he was all hers. Keme crooked a finger at her, “Your turn.”

  Buzzing with anticipation, Daphne accepted his offered hand and stood in front of him on the bed, but instead of pulling off her clothes, she raised her hands into the air and just smiled saucily. “Help a girl out?” She batted her eyelashes innocently.

  With a low growl, Keme reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion. Her skin pebbled, not from cold, she was exceedingly hot, but from needing him. Daphne said nothing, just waited for him to decide what would come next.

  He trailed a hand over her neck and down to her breasts, which were covered in a pale pink lacy bra. “Pretty,” he murmured, tracing the edge of the bra where it met her sensitive skin. Keme cupped her over the fabric, sending small thrills through her body, making her nipples strain forward. Then he let his hand drop, down her abdomen and to her waist.

  He turned her slowly, moving her so she faced the wall. Then he lowered his mouth to the back of her neck, to the happiest place on earth, and bit lightly.

  Daphne’s knees threatened to dissolve beneath her. Keme’s arm came around her waist, holding her up, pulling her against his hard body, as he nuzzled her favorite erogenous zone save for down south. Daphne cried out, lolling her head forward to give him access, as explosions of pleasure coursed through her. She didn’t know if it was possible to orgasm from neck kisses, but it felt like a definite possibility.

  Just as she was about to shiver out of Keme’s arms, he moved her forward and deftly undid the clasp on her bra. Daphne shifted her arms forward, letting the straps fall off her shoulders. Her breasts ached to be touched, to be tasted; she leaned back into him and reached up to pull his mouth to hers.

  His kiss was bruising, it demanded and took. Daphne spun in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Then she collapsed onto the mattress, thankful for the craft persons who’d made the bed so sturdy, and hurriedly pulled her pants and matching lacy panties off. Keme stood above her and just looked, then he was on her and his mouth captured her left nipple.

  Daphne moaned and strained upwards, pushing her fleshy tip into his hot mouth. Her head spun with the sensations of pain and pleasure when he bit then sucked. His hands roved over her body, moving over her flaming skin with a purpose, driving her into a frenzy.

  He parted her thighs and settled between her legs making Daphne’s pelvis lift of its own accord to rub against his hardness. Keme lifted his head from her breasts with jet black eyes and growled loudly, then shifted his weight and filled her with one smooth thrust.

  Daphne reveled in the shocks of pure sensation racing through her body as she clung to her mate. The fullness of him inside her body, inside her mind and soul, soothed the pains of the past weeks. He finished her, completed her, and made her stronger by loving her for who she was.

  He finished with her as she topped the mountain peak and dove over with everything she was into the spectrum of colors and pleasure. His shout of completion echoed hers exactly.

  Daphne lay in Keme’s arms, shivering from aftershocks, and rested her head on his chest. She pressed her lips over his heart, laid a hand over the life they’d created, and closed her eyes.

  A moment later, she opened them, frowning as the desire for dill pickle chips and cream soda began with a single thought and grew in an instant into an overwhelming need, until it was all she could think about. Her mouth watered at the thought of the tangy chips, crunching perfectly in her mouth, and the cool sweetness of t
he soda to wash it down. Daphne chewed on her lip, debating what to do. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, naked as a jay bird, with her mate for the rest of the day. On the other hand, dill pickle chips.

  “Keme,” she murmured, shaking him lightly.

  “Hmmm?” He lifted one sleepy eyelid and peered at her, looking for the world like a mischievous pirate.

  Daphne tapped her fingers on his chest, rethinking her desperation for a moment, then pushed up on the bed, taking the sheet with her, and bounced in place. “I need dill pickle chips and cream soda.”

  “Huh?” Keme opened both eyes and stared at her as if she were a lunatic.

  Daphne chewed on her lip, feeling foolish. She knew what this was, she’d read enough books and internet articles about first trimester cravings to be aware, but the craving was so cliché it almost hurt. There was just something about doing what everyone did that drove her crazy. Still, the mouth-watering taste of dill pickle chips filled her fantasies. “I need it.”