Saved By Her (Soul Searchers Book 1)

by BE Brouillard

  She stared intently into Becky’s eyes for several long moments, her surprisingly strong fingers still firmly gripping Becky’s. “My dear, another matter needs our attention. Rosie told me about all that nastiness at the office – that awful woman and her threats…on top of your current…dilemma. I know you’re probably feeling overwhelmed by all that’s happening in your life right now…” She pursed her lips then let them curl into a little smile. “I’d be fibbing if I didn’t say that I believe that every woman should have one or two moments like this in her life. I, myself, have had several crossroads moments…and for this reason, I’ve always kept a small…sanctuary, I suppose you could call it. A place to regroup, collect my breath.”

  Becky felt her brow furrow, not sure where this was going. “Bun, Rosie and I are doing fine, and it’s only a matter of time before we sort out that craziness. I—”

  “Darling, you and Rosie can’t possibly share that little rabbit hole of hers much longer without getting in each other’s hair,” Bunny interrupted. “I have a lovely spot in the country that was literally designed for moments such as this, and I will not rest until I know that you are safely tucked up there. It’s beautifully secluded, but still close enough to civilization to be comfortable. I even had some of that wifey installed for the last tenants, so you can do your internet business.”

  “Um…I think you mean wifi, Bun,” Becky chuckled. “Thanks so much for the offer, but I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Rebecca North, I insist that you stop arguing with me! You need a safe place where you can figure things out, clear your head…and still get your work done while they handle that lunatic from your office. You’ll be very happy there for a few months if need be. I’ve already made all the arrangements, so there’s no sense in fighting it.”

  Becky grinned, suddenly getting an image of Rosie in fifty years and realizing where her friend got her fire from. “You’re absolutely right, Bunny, I’m being an idiot. Thank you for the offer. I’ll chat with Rosie when I get home, and we’ll set things in motion.”

  “Well, of course you will, dear,” the older woman beamed. “And…I’ve already arranged things with Roseanne – she packed your belongings while you were out.”

  Becky rolled her eyes and fought back a laugh. Why was she not surprised?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bunny’s ‘little country home’ turned out to be a rambling four-bedroom homestead situated in lush green pastures outside a small rural town less than an hour out of the city. Its garden was framed by pristine white railings that had once outlined paddocks that were home to horses. A small barn lay to the side of the home, its roomy stalls now empty and swept clean.

  Bunny had been a horsewoman? Something else about the elderly woman she’d never known. The horses were long-gone, but the sweet equine scent still occasionally swept in on the breeze. There was a vastness here that allowed her to breathe more freely. The home was lovely, too – not what she’d expected from the older woman. No quaint bric-a-brac here, the décor was modern and crisp, the rooms airy, echoing the country colors from outside.

  It didn’t take long for Becky to settle into a comfortable routine, and along with it, a steady sense of companionship with the man she had come to accept as the father of her child. It had only been a few hours after her arrival that she’d been aware of his presence. She’d just finished unpacking in the bedroom she’d chosen as her own when she became aware of that strange swirling presence, and he’d materialized in front of her. Without hesitating, she stepped into the warmth of his embrace.

  “We’ll be safe here,” she’d murmured into his chest, and he nodded.

  ***

  As the days had turned into weeks, Becky and Xander wove a relationship that defied any description she could come up with. They shared no common ground aside from what they found between the sheets, where he still possessed an uncanny ability to read her body.

  The life he spoke of as his own was so foreign to her, he could have come from another planet. In some ways, he did – another realm she couldn’t begin to visualize. A history that was so long gone there were moments she wondered how he would ever understand the modern world she lived in.

  “Tell me about your wife,” she asked him one day as they sat on the sweeping, wraparound porch that encircled the house. It had become their favorite place, allowing unobstructed views of the rolling fields that were so unfamiliar to her after a lifetime of city living. He glanced up at her, quizzical.

  “What would you like to know?” he asked. Rebecca knew she could ask him absolutely anything, and he’d answer honestly. He lacked the inhibitions of most men she’d ever met and seemed happiest when she delved into the person he had been.

  “Whatever was important to you,” she smiled, toying with the cuff of his shorts. Since they had moved to the country, he’d adopted a more modern wardrobe when he appeared to her. Not as macho as his warrior leathers, but the snug fit of his plain t-shirt made her mouth water.

  “I loved her very much,” he answered simply. “She had been chosen for me, but it was a good match, and we were happy.” Something in his expression told her there was more to the story. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “She…couldn’t give me an heir. The elders…the ephors…were displeased…”

  Becky felt her back stiffen. The images she had seen showed children. He’d told her of the sons…the daughter.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “They wanted to remove her from the throne. Urged me to pick another queen.” His face had darkened. For all of his flaws, this was a man who felt strongly, loved deeply. She could sense it. It was one of the qualities she was learning to cherish in him. He continued, “I refused, but the pressure…”

  She narrowed her eyes, and he put his hand over hers. “I could never give her up. But they compelled me to…take another wife.” Her expression obviously warned him that this was a touchy subject. “Our world was different, Rebecca. Our culture was…something I could never really explain to you. We were hard people. Love was not a priority. Things have changed so much…” His smile was tender as he brushed her cheek.

  “So, what happened to your wife? Wives?” she pressed.

  “My second wife gave me a son very soon. He was a good, strong child.” His smile deepened. “And then…by some strange miracle, my first wife became with child too. Another boy. We were blessed.”

  Rebecca pulled a face. “Really? I’m not sure I’d feel quite so blessed.” Her tone was more than a little acidic.

  “Becky,” he leaned towards her, “my wives were queens, their sons were born to rule after me, they lived lives of great privilege. My second wife was an exceptional woman, but our marriage was arranged for purely political purposes – I doubt she hoped to win my heart.”

  She nodded but remained unconvinced. History was filled with stories of mothers who’d gone to extreme lengths to fight for their children’s futures. A pair of queens whose sons were potential heirs to one throne? It must have been hell.

  “So…your daughter?” Part of her wanted to know. Another part felt annoyed about his focus on his male line when his girl-child had died for him. She had an urge to inflict a little pain, and it showed on his face.

  “She was a tiny ray of sunshine, an unexpected gift from my first wife,” he whispered. “I’ve never regretted anything more than allowing them to take her. It was my damnation – I should have known it then, but I was a fool. I have had a long time…a very long time to learn that lesson. And I swear, I will never make that mistake again, Becky.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You and our child will be everything to me. I will protect you every moment that we have together.” For a moment, the fragility of their future hung between them…and then his lips had met hers, and she’d stopped thinking.

  He was true to his word, though, and as each day passed, she could no more imagine a life without him than she could imagine living without air. She could see that he felt the same way
, perhaps even more so.

  One morning, she had woken with the sense of being watched. It was him. It was always him. Always there, close. He was sitting, cross-legged on the other side of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined to form a bridge, on which he had rested his chin. Watching her. As she woke, he eased himself out of his awkward position and moved toward her. She raised herself onto her elbows and met him halfway.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep and a little lust…he was naked again. He smiled and reached out to run a finger along her jawline.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered back, and it made her grin and shake her tangle of gold curls.

  “Yeah, right,” she chuckled, “I’ve got sleep breath and sticky eyes. Hardly!”

  “I’ve seen you every morning since…” His voice trailed off, not wanting to remind her of those awful months after Ryan’s death. “Every morning you are beautiful. Every night. Every moment that you sleep, or are awake.” His fingers continued to trail along her jawline, and she cleared her throat self-consciously. His intensity was overwhelming sometimes. She had to remind herself that his world had been entirely different to hers for longer than she’d been alive. For longer than anyone she had ever known had been alive. Yet he was becoming more tangible to her every day. She’d forgotten there’d ever been a time when he only existed in her dreams.

  “I’m right here,” his voice broke into her thoughts as if he’d been reading her mind. Her mouth twitched wryly…he was probably quite capable of doing it. Then his fingers trailed over her lips, followed closely by his mouth as he brushed a kiss there. The lightest of sensations that stole her breath as his fingertips stroked down her throat to trace over her chest. He cupped a breast through the fabric of her silky pajamas, and she moaned into his mouth as he eased her back into the pillows. His hands explored her shape beneath the covers before he tugged the sheets down and slid her sleep-shirt up her chest.

  It was cool in the room, but her skin was warm, getting warmer as he continued to stroke and knead her curves, every inch committed to memory. He settled at her side, lifting his mouth from hers and letting his eyes follow the path of his hands over her body. His movements slowed as his fingers trailed over her belly – still flat, but she was so aware of the life that grew there. He was too, and she could almost feel the weight of his gaze as it moved over her. She turned to face him and twisted her hips, raising a knee and draping a calf over his hip. The movement pulled her sleep shorts tighter around her, the fabric slipping between her pouting pussy lips, and he grinned.

  “Oh, I think I like the look of that,” he murmured as he slid his hand to cup her mound, pinching her flesh lightly. It was slick already. She grinned back, loving how he’d grown so relaxed around her. Brooding sex demons had a certain appeal, but she preferred the simple intimacy they’d built together.

  “Cheeky!” she quipped and nipped his chin, then squealed as he rolled onto his back and flipped her on top of him.

  “I’m cheeky?” he replied. “You just bit me!”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she responded, raising herself to straddle him, her palms on his chest, “you never felt a thing!”

  “I can feel something now,” he murmured, a little hoarsely, and pushed his hips up slightly. She felt the hardness of him pressing against her, just the silken fabric separating their hot flesh. She tipped her pelvis and slipped herself along his length, and he caught his breath. His hands slid up her thighs, and reached to the juncture of their bodies, pressing his thumb against the little button of her clit. The pressure through the satin made her want to buck forward. When he tugged the slick fabric aside, exposing her, it was all she could do to stop herself from reaching for his shaft and guiding it into her.

  “Oh!” she breathed the word out as she could feel his velvety skin against her own.

  “Can you feel something?” he whispered, using two fingers to spread her lips apart, dipping a fingertip into her.

  “Oh!” she breathed again, attempted a grin, “Yes…I think so, I’m not quite I, Oh—!” She gasped and bit her lip as he grasped her hip and nudged the head of his cock into her warmth.

  “Now?” His fingers on her hip steadied her and she drew in a shaky breath and then began to slowly sink down, down until she engulfed him completely in her wet heat.

  “Yes…now, I feel something,” she whispered, and began a gentle, steady, rolling of her hips that rocked them to sweet oblivion.

  Later, as she’d rested sated against his side, her head on his shoulder, she’d felt him curl his arm around her, pulling her closer. It was a gesture that should have been protective, but in her heart, she sensed the need in it…how much he needed her.

  While she had a world of her own to turn to, it felt as if she was his entire reason for existing. Sometimes the weight of that was terrifying – what would happen to him if they were torn apart for some reason? Deep down, she knew it would end badly for him, but she couldn’t allow herself to imagine anything happening to the man she’d grown to love. She couldn’t face that loss again.

  Chapter Twenty

  It had been a month since Rebecca moved out of town when Salazar felt an unsettling in the energies. He’d been watching the pair, seeing their love grow. Lilith might call him an old cynic, but he was a romantic at heart.

  Tonight, something was wrong.

  He could feel it. And the madness of one soul picked at his subconscious.

  Stella.

  The name had become synonymous with treachery in his mind. She’d been silent since Rebecca had left town, but he’d never let her slip off his radar. The others had done the same. They swept around him as the feeling of unease built within him.

  “It’s happening again,” Jezebel muttered. She was sculpted in black tonight, her red hair tumbling over her onyx skin.

  ‘Beware the redhead,’ he thought, then shook off the moment of lightness. Lilith had arrived, Calliope with her. No birdsong this time. They were grim.

  “There is evil at work,” Calliope whispered. “We have to save them.”

  “We can’t interfere!” Lilith snapped…then rubbed a hand over her forehead. “But we can’t ignore this.”

  “She’s heading there…to their place,” Jezebel spoke. “She can’t get there. We have to stop it.”

  Salazar paced. He knew their rules were a little flexible, but where did the boundaries lie? This was clearly out of the norm.

  “We wouldn’t be interfering with a mortal,” he pondered. “However, she’s in the grips of something that he can’t control – I sense that it’s bent on destroying him. If she reaches them, it’ll be over for him.” For once, Lilith didn’t object to his obvious need to shelter Xander. It went beyond the Spartan…somehow, they all sensed that the attack was leveled at them.

  “What do we do?” Calliope whispered, although the catch in her voice hinted that she knew the answer.

  “We have to get rid of the woman…Stella,” Jezebel’s voice was clear in comparison. “She lacks a pure soul. She couldn’t be manipulated if she was innocent.”

  Lilith nodded slowly. “Yes. It might be an infringement, but we’ll deal with that later.” She shuddered at the thought of her first interaction with the one who had damned her to this place. Lucifer.

  He didn’t play by the rules. Neither would she.

  A pair of headlights pierced the darkness below. A small car was traveling erratically along a narrow road.

  Too fast.

  The woman at the wheel was mumbling almost incoherently, eyes glassy.

  ‘Find the woman, kill the child. Find the woman, kill the child…’ The words that swirled through her muddled brain were not her own, yet she embraced them.

  “She’s being influenced,” Calliope cried. “It’s not her fault!”

  “It is her fault,” Jezebel disagreed. “She’s so full of hatred that she’s let something in!”

  Stella hunched over the wheel, hair
lank and tangled, face pale through the windshield. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

  Too fast!

  In a flash, Salazar was standing in the road, his lean figure dark in the beam of her lights. She screamed and spun the wheel, instinctively throwing her arms in front of her face. The gesture was futile. The car careened off the side of the road and streaked into a small cluster of trees. As the grille crashed into a solid trunk, the car came to an abrupt halt, metal crunching sickeningly.

  Stella shot forward, her face smashing into the glass of the windshield, no seatbelt to slow her impetus. As the lights flickered through the undergrowth ahead, she slumped, motionless.

  “You were wrong!” Calliope moaned, her hands over her mouth. “We’ve killed her for nothing!”

  “No! Look!” Lilith responded. As they watched, the figure shifted, sat up. The movement was awkward, unnatural. Jezebel gasped as the face turned up to look directly towards them, features shattered, bloodied. But the eyes glittered darkly.

  Her mouth opened, and a horrific wail pierced the air. Calliope clapped her hands over her ears. As the sound built, a black mist swirled from between Stella’s lips. The mist streamed, channeled, and then shot straight up into the air, a river of black that billowed and then vanished.

  “Possessed!” Lilith whispered.

  “But by what?” Salazar murmured at her side.

  “This is not going to end well,” groaned Calliope.

  Stella slumped back down. This time she didn’t move again.

  ***