Mordjan

by Immortal Angel

  He felt pain lance through him. “What am I supposed to do, Fayelle? I am the head of the defense force. What kind of love would we have if I ran from my duty?”

  “What kind of love would we have if you die? What if, at the end of this, my magic no longer recognizes you as my mate?”

  “We will find a way, I swear it. It’s in my blood. It is who I am. Your magic is in your blood. It’s who you are. Don’t let go.”

  “In another life, the Ardaks wouldn’t have attacked and we would have been together.”

  “In that life, we wouldn’t have met.”

  She looked at their joined hands. “Yes, we would have. I believe that love can bring spirits together across time and space.”

  Only she was wrong. If the Ardaks hadn’t attacked, she would still be tucked away in her hidden mountain village.

  “Then believe that I will be your mate, regardless of the upgrades.”

  “You’re asking for a faith I don’t possess. I can feel the magic waning.” She took a deep breath. “I know that you have to do this, and we won’t be together. I just wanted you to be aware of what you are giving up.”

  He stilled. “Are you saying if I do this, you won’t want me?”

  “No, I’m saying if you do this, you won’t want to be wanted. You won’t be the same being you are now.”

  He wanted to argue, but in the back of his mind, he knew she was correct. As the pain and fever had worn off, he’d become more aware of the change she’d been talking about. His blood had turned cold, his emotions more distant, his mind more logical, his body more powerful.

  He was becoming the weapon they wanted him to be.

  He hadn’t considered what would happen to him if he survived and the war ended.

  Knowing that he was losing her and that, even if by some miracle they survived, she would never be his, crushed him in a way he couldn’t fathom.

  It stole his hope.

  He’d thought he didn’t have hope before, when Tordan sent him on this mission. Yet somehow it had stolen into him since he’d touched her and felt the electric shock between them.

  This was it. The one chance he would have to be with her. He knew he didn’t deserve her. He knew that he couldn’t stay with her. It was self-preservation at the deepest level of his being—he didn’t want to hurt any more than he was already hurting and if he touched her intimately only once, the pain at their parting would be overwhelming.

  But when he looked into her glowing eyes, he found he couldn’t turn away. She mesmerized him. He cupped her beautiful face in his palms, barely touching her. Her beauty was unearthly, her skin smooth, as if pure and untouched by the Ardak invasion.

  He almost couldn’t look at her, couldn’t touch her knowing the blood he’d spilled, and with the knowledge that he was going to spill much, much more before this was done.

  He swallowed, forcing his aching body to sit forward and close the space between them.

  She deserved to be loved for hours on end, to be kissed and caressed in front of the fire in his cabin at his leisure.

  He wished this were different, that he’d had a chance to really know her. To love her over days, weeks, months, or years.

  But all he had was this moment.

  Yes, he was angry and bitter, broken and transformed into a technological beast of a man, but he would give her what was left of himself.

  The best of himself.

  As good as he could make it.

  Just for tonight.

  “Kiss me?” he asked. The words were low, gritty with emotion.

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “If this is the only part of you I will ever have, just once, I want to feel it. Kiss me, Fayelle.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fayelle

  Fayelle froze as Mordjan leaned toward her almost hesitantly, as if giving her time to flee. She wasn’t going anywhere because she felt the same. If all they had was this moment, she would make the most of it. The memories would have to carry them through this war and the long years to come.

  His lips were warm, firm, and tenderness radiated from him. He moved back and forth, gentle and sweet, until they parted and she accepted more of him. His hands came up to thread through her hair, his thumbs brushing the tips of her ears, making her shiver.

  Tingling spread through her, her blood rushing warmly to her stomach and lower. Even though it wasn’t as strong as it should have been, her magic told her that this was how it was supposed to be: the two of them together.

  He would be taken from her, but she wanted him regardless, pushing away her worries about stages two and three, the larger wars.

  Focused solely on him and his taste. She found his flavor magical, dark and commanding, with a hint of mint.

  He pulled her toward him. “Come up here.”

  That stopped her. “On the bunk?”

  “Yes.” He pulled her again.

  “But . . . but you should rest.”

  “Please.”

  “But I’m your healer.”

  “Fayelle.” His voice cracked.

  She saw the entreaty in his eyes and found herself climbing onto the bed, straddling his waist. “This is beyond sanity.”

  “What’s beyond sanity is how much I want you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t mean—”

  He shifted, pressing his hard length against her.

  “This really is beyond belief.”

  He stilled, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve never had a mate, either,” he whispered gruffly. “The others my age were mated long ago, but I grew up as an orphan, and I never felt I deserved a mate. I thought the defense force was my calling.”

  “So you’ve never . . .”

  He laughed then, and the sound warmed her to her toes. “At our age? Come on, Fayelle. We aren’t children.” He grew serious again. “But I’ve never done this with someone I care about as much as I care about you.”

  Neither had she. She ran her fingers over his chest, but then she didn’t stop as she bent to press soft kisses across his chest, moving her lips over the smooth skin.

  “Fayelle—” His voice broke and his eyes took on a new hunger. She held his gaze while she pushed his hand aside. This might be their only time together, so she was going to put everything she had into letting him know just how much he’d come to mean to her.

  She wanted to be with him this time, to feel her magic tingle, to be with him as a mate. Even if they were together in the future, her magic would never react to him this strongly again.

  He took her face in his hands. “You deserve so much more than this.”

  “Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here, and that is all that matters,” she whispered, turning her head to the side to kiss the palm of his hand.

  He groaned. “Then you take it. You have all of me that is left to give.”

  “Just for tonight,” she agreed, forcing herself to understand. She traced the hard planes of his stomach. “I need you.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but she covered his lips with a kiss. “If we have only three quarters of an hour, I don’t want to waste it talking.”

  They probably had less time, but she didn’t break the kiss, didn’t look at the clock.

  He pulled her closer, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of her neck so he could sink his fingers into her golden hair. “What have you done to me, Fayelle? You make me want to forget it all. You make me want to hope.”

  His lips captured hers again, and he swallowed her tiny moan of pleasure. Their mouths moved in a dance of lips and tongues and teeth as the magic arced between them, mixing with the heady sensation of the kiss. Her fingers came up to tangle in his hair, to caress his face, the firm planes of his jaw,the smooth skin of his neck, the hard muscles of his shoulders.

  She touched every part of his body, claiming him as much as he was claiming her.

  He tugged the laces at the bodice of her dress, untying them, and she could fee
l her nipples hardening as he lightly brushed against them with his work.

  The fabric parted, and he brought his hands to her shoulders, slowly sliding the fabric down her arms. His breath halted as he bared her. “Perfect.”

  He cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands, rubbing the stiff peaks of her nipples. She felt tight, restless, her skin sensitive to his every touch. When he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, she gasped, her back arching as a streak of pleasure shot through her. His mouth began to go from nipple to nipple, teasing, then sucking, learning the curves with his tongue.

  His hand slid down to wrap around the outside of her thigh, finding its way under the fabric of her skirt, his fingers caressing the bare flesh of the underside of her thighs, coming ever closer to her center. She wriggled with the sensation, trying to get closer to his questing fingers, trying to urge him to give her more.

  She gasped as heat pulsed in her belly. He was hard against her, straining against the thin underclothes between them.

  Tingles of magic rent the air around her, her head tossing from side to side, sparks exploding behind her eyelids. Crying out at the sensations as she pulled him closer, she clenched his shoulders and rubbed against his erection as she held back a moan of pleasure. His touch felt so good. Better than she ever imagined.

  He pulled back, and his eyes met hers, their depths unfathomable. “Just the sight of you . . .”

  There was a slight tremble in his fingers as he unlaced his undershorts, not bothering to remove them. She had only a glimpse of his naked body before his hands were under her skirt, pulling the silky fabric down her legs. She rose slightly so he could take them completely off, and then he lay back so she was stretched out above him again.

  Magic moved through her as he breathed in the scent of her hair. Then he was kissing her forehead, brushing his lips over her cheeks, his kisses finally landing on her lips. Their tongues caressed each other, enticing, and when he grabbed her hips to hold her still, she realized she’d been unconsciously writhing against him.

  His lips went to her neck, making her shiver, as his hardness pressed at her entrance, hot, blunt, unforgiving, as he nudged inexorably inside her. She wriggled her hips, trying to adjust to his size.

  He pulled up just enough for his hand to fit between them, for his thumb to rub against the center of her pleasure. He circled the nub, the warmth cascading over her, making her almost unaware that he was sliding ever deeper into her with each thrust.

  The light caresses turned the pain into pleasure once more. She found herself moving on top of him, encouraging him to take more.

  He did, and soon, his girth filled her completely.

  When he was fully seated, he slid his other hand under her, arching her lower back, adjusting her to the rhythm. She froze at the strong, hot sensation of ecstasy that grew within her, pulsing from a certain point within her that he rubbed against each time he moved.

  He set a slow pace, rocking inside her with a gentleness she hadn’t known him capable of. He was almost reverent in his movements. Ecstasy moved outward from the point where they were joined, growing in intensity, tormenting her, causing her to shudder as the sensations threatened to overwhelm her.

  As the pulses within her grew, she opened her eyes so she could watch the tendrils of magic between them, that caressed him as they moved together.

  And just as quickly, she closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to look at it. Didn’t want him to see how much she needed him. Her hectic breaths became whimpers as she drove them faster, her movements less controlled. She tightened her legs around him.

  “Fayelle,” he groaned as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and pressed her deeper, harder against him. His thumb circled around the firm center of her pleasure, teasing, taunting, and pushing the magic higher. She rocked against him, crying out, taking him harder, faster. The friction made the fire grow, and her orgasm seemed to stretch out before her in waves of pleasure that washed over her as she shuddered around him.

  Her body squeezed around him as he groaned and stilled inside her, and she could feel his shaft pulsing, giving her aftershocks of pleasure. Her body shook as she collapsed onto his chest, feeling his chest heave beneath her face.

  He put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to hold him tight enough that memory of it would last a lifetime.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mordjan

  The timer on the wall said twelve hours and thirty minutes left. The second stage should be starting now, but he didn’t want to rise. Having Fayelle in his arms had been bliss unlike any he’d ever known, and he never wanted it to end. The memory of her trembling above him, the expressions of ecstasy that crossed her face, the way she’d held on to him in her sleep were things he would never forget.

  She was strong, one of the strongest women he had ever known. And even though she was a healer, she was also a warrior to be reckoned with.

  He’d never imagined that she might need him.

  At least, not in the way he’d seen in her eyes when they’d made love. The elf needed him to quell the deep loneliness inside her, needed him as much as he needed her.

  Until her, he’d been focused on his duty. Then he’d been torn between his own desires. He’d been worried about what would happen to Aurora or the resistance if he didn’t do the upgrades.

  He’d never really thought about what would happen to her if he died. Tordan had told him that if they mated with the elves, some of their magic would go to extend the life span of their mate, but it would, in return, shorten the life span of the elf.

  In the back of his mind, he’d thought that he was doing her a favor by pretending he didn’t know her magic had chosen him. Her life span would remain long, and if something happened to him, which was statistically very probable in this war, that she wouldn’t have to suffer his loss.

  But what happened to an elf if their mate didn’t mate with them? Would she find another mate, or would her magic only choose once?

  It shamed him to admit it, but he was afraid to ask. Because what if the answer was that she was doomed to live alone and never know happiness? What if she would go on to find someone else? Would he be driven by jealousy to stop before the process was complete?

  He couldn’t afford to let it change his mind.

  Clenching his jaw, he chastised himself for his idiocy. He had known this would happen. That if he was with her once, everything would become complicated. That he would never want to let her go.

  A knock at the door pulled him from his troubled thoughts.

  Fayelle woke and nimbly climbed off the bunk before throwing the sheet over him and tugging her blouse closed.

  “Mordjan? Fayelle?” The voice was High Medic Tassarion’s.

  “Yes, just a moment,” she said hurriedly, searching the floor for her undergarments.

  “We’re ready for you. I’ll be waiting in the med wing.”

  “All right, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Very good.”

  Mordjan tried to ignore the stiffness in his body as he sat up on the side of the bunk and reached for his pants. She helped him step down into them, and he found himself grinning.

  “I’ll bet no one would believe what we just did,” he said in her ear.

  “I still don’t believe it,” she said, her voice thick with disapproval. “If there were ever a time you should have been resting . . .”

  “Don’t you dare regret it,” he told her. “There are enough things to regret in this life. That wasn’t one of them.”

  Her eyes softened as she glanced at him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She brushed a kiss across his cheek as he fastened his pants over his still slightly damp underwear.

  “I could really use another bath,” he said.

  Her brows rose. “Shall I call for more ice?”

  He barked a laugh, which was a rarity. In his world, there was
n’t much cause for merriment.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  He sighed and lay back on the bed. “Let’s do it.”

  She opened the door, and two medics were waiting to roll his bed out into the main med wing.

  High Medic Tassarion was there already and dressed in a gown from head to foot, a mask covering his face.

  Mordjan frowned. “What is that outfit for?”

  “Surgery. This second stage will require me to cut you open, and this is so that I don’t contaminate you with microbes.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes. We’re going to install a battery crystal and a device to create the synthetic blood cells in your cybernetic leg.”

  Mordjan started. “Why don’t you use my arm?”

  “I scanned you while you were unconscious earlier and found the battery compartment in your thigh, which is a good thing since your leg is a larger limb and can handle more power.” The high medic paused. “In a way, it’s too bad you don’t have a cybernetic compartment on your torso. That would be the best place to put it.”

  “Yes. Too bad indeed.” Mordjan gave a weak chuckle.

  “Isn’t this dangerous?” Fayelle asked. “I’ve been worried about the side effects of increasing electricity in the body. Beings struck by lightning usually tend to die.”

  The high medic’s lips quirked up at the corners. “Yes, they do, don’t they? But lightning strikes are usually millions of volts. Our bodies already run on electricity, but it’s at the level of millivolts. For instance, electricity is what creates the heartbeat, allows the synapses in our brains to communicate, and sends signals between cells in a sodium-potassium chain. So electricity isn’t inherently bad, and there are animals, like an electric eel from Earth, that generate energy six thousand times greater than the average being.”

  “How much power are we talking about in stage two?” Fayelle asked.

  “We want the battery crystal to generate, and the cyborgs able to create and withstand, about five hundred volts continuously, and the battery crystal has to power about a million volts at any one time to power the suits.”