Kiss of Fate

by Deborah Cooke

  “So your desire for a child is going to be fulfilled how, exactly?”

  Eileen caught her breath. “You already knew.”

  The Wyvern smiled. “It’s a gift.”

  “Maybe I was dreaming of Sigmund. Remembering his birth, or remembering Louisa’s memory of his birth.”

  “Maybe. But was he what you were yearning for?”

  Eileen had nothing to say to that.

  “If it was, we’d have nothing to talk about, because your dream would be fulfilled.” The Wyvern gave Eileen a hard look.

  Eileen kept her mouth shut. It was true that that little niggle of desire inside of her hadn’t gone away.

  The Wyvern nodded once, then rose to her feet, looking more imposing and stern than she had just moments ago. “We choose our dreams, and we choose them with an instinctive understanding of what we need to learn in our lives.” She pointed at Eileen. “You trusted and you loved and you felt betrayed by ensuing results. But the issue wasn’t that you trusted, nor was it that you loved.”

  Eileen was irritated by this woman’s tendency to lecture, especially as lecturing was Eileen’s department. “Well, I haven’t had much better luck in this life, have I? I’ve trusted and I’ve loved and it’s been a bomb so far.”

  “But if you don’t commit yourself wholly, or if you choose to surrender your trust to those who are unworthy of it, what do you risk?”

  Eileen folded her arms across her chest. “Do you know my sister?”

  The Wyvern stepped closer and tapped her finger on Eileen’s shoulder. “The consort who shares only her body is a plaything, not a partner. The distinction is not unimportant.”

  She looked into Eileen’s eyes for a long moment, then disappeared as surely as if she hadn’t been.

  Eileen spun, knotting the sheet effectively around her ankles, but she was alone in Erik’s bedroom again with the Wyvern’s words echoing in her thoughts.

  Come to think of it, it was strange that Louisa’s past was more emotionally intense than Eileen’s own past. She’d cried more reliving the tragedy of Louisa and Erik’s shared past than she had over any incident in her own life.

  Maybe Louisa had just lived a better story.

  Maybe Lynne was right.

  Someone was in the bathroom. Eileen had a pretty good idea who it was, and Erik was just the person she needed to talk to.

  Maybe it was time Eileen did something about her own story.

  Chapter 22

  The firestorm was killing Erik.

  He felt every change in Eileen’s breathing as she slept in his bed. He knew the moment she awakened, because her heart changed its pace. He was haunted by the memory of the sight of her nudity, never mind what they had done together at the inn.

  And it hadn’t been enough.

  Even if he had consummated the firestorm, it still wouldn’t have been enough.

  He was beginning to wonder whether he would ever get enough of Eileen Grosvenor, PhD. It was more than the heat of the firestorm, more than the persistent hum of lust—it was the light in her eyes just before she smiled, the utter conviction in her tone when she said she trusted him. It was her faith that Boris had been maligning Erik’s character, and her certainty that his character was a noble one.

  She trusted him. She believed in him.

  Just as Louisa hadn’t.

  Just as his father had.

  It had been a long time since Erik had told anyone so much of his past, or surrendered so many of his secrets. Talking to Eileen was addictive. Would he lose interest in her when he ran out of stories to tell?

  He doubted it.

  Erik was both less and more in her presence, which both frustrated and thrilled him. His gift of foresight might be gone, but his sense of purpose was redoubled. He’d been able to use the ocean as a scrying glass, which was new.

  Had his mentor and friend Thierry been right about a happy union being more than the sum of the parts?

  Or was Erik simply getting everything right in the last moments before he was sacrificed for the sake of the Pyr? What had seemed inevitable and even right just days before was now a possibility he dreaded.

  He wanted to spend more time with Eileen.

  He stepped out of the shower, surrendering the battle against scrubbing her scent from his skin. He was thinking it was just seared into his memory and that he’d always smell her scent, no matter what happened between them or to him.

  Erik halted in the midst of grabbing a towel when he saw Eileen in the doorway. She looked disheveled and determined, even wrapped in one of the sheets from his bed. Her arms were folded across her chest and that pose plus the sheet told him that she had reservations as well as questions.

  About him?

  Or about the firestorm?

  Erik waited and he didn’t have to wait long.

  “So, did you want me or the Dragon’s Teeth?” she asked. He liked how blunt she was and appreciated that he could reply with complete honesty.

  “I came for the firestorm,” he said, holding her gaze. “I left for the Dragon’s Teeth and I returned for you.”

  She tipped her head to study him and he knew she wouldn’t miss any nuance of his expression. “Me or Louisa?”

  Erik crossed the bathroom to stand in front of Eileen. The firestorm surged with a blinding heat and he left a step between them so that he could think. It was important that he express himself clearly—one false step now could condemn him forever.

  “I loved Louisa, but Louisa—and the time I spent with her—is only a memory.” Eileen’s eyes narrowed, but Erik continued, intent on making her understand. “Although there is some of Louisa in you, there is probably just as much of her in me, because my time with her has shaped my choices ever since.”

  “How?”

  Erik didn’t want to review all of his mistakes in this moment. “I let Louisa run when she was heartbroken, when I should have pursued her. I like to think that I could have changed her mind about the choice she made. That mistake will never leave me.”

  “You talk about her as if she’s not me.”

  “I don’t think of you as the same person, even if you are the same soul. You’re bolder, braver, stronger.” He let his admiration show and saw her eyes brighten. “I don’t have to protect you from my nature or my truth, and I like that.” He held her gaze steadily. “I came back for Eileen Grosvenor.”

  She shook her head. “I would never kill myself. You don’t have to stay with me to save me from myself.”

  “I know.” Erik smiled. “It’s just one of the thousand ways you’re different from Louisa.” He reached out and took her hand in his, savoring the flurry of sparks that erupted between their hands. “I’d like to stay with you to find out all of the others.”

  “You don’t love her anymore.”

  He heard that there was no real question in Eileen’s tone. He shook his head. “It’s been a long time.”

  And that firestorm had never been this potent.

  Eileen took a deep breath, turning her hand so that their fingers were entwined. “Is Sigmund the reason you don’t want to have another child?”

  Erik blinked at her abrupt change of topic. “How do you know that I don’t?”

  “You came in the tub, even using condoms.” Eileen arched a brow. “That’s the choice of a man who doesn’t want a child.”

  Erik felt the press of time and the length of a full explanation. He knew the others were waiting in the living room for him, but also wanted to answer Eileen’s questions. He felt he owed her as much, and for once, he decided the Pyr could wait.

  He would choose his mate and her needs first.

  “The firestorm marks a Pyr finding his destined mate,” Erik said quietly. “It means that conception is possible, if not inevitable.”

  Eileen leaned in the doorway beside him, the relaxation of her pose revealing that her reservations were melting. Erik chose to be encouraged. He watched the bright glint of curiosity in her eyes and loved h
ow analytically she listened to him.

  “You can get me pregnant only during the firestorm?”

  “Only the first time. Some Pyr have other sons subsequently, but the firestorm is about making more Pyr. See how it’s getting hotter and burning brighter?” He lifted their entwined hands, putting their palms together. Eileen winced at the light, then nodded. “It becomes more and more demanding until it is sated.”

  “And when it’s sated, that’s because conception has occurred?”

  Erik nodded. “It was not a choice I had the right to make for you.”

  “You don’t want more children?” she asked again, watching him closely. The answer was important to her, although Erik wasn’t certain which answer she most wanted to hear.

  He’d have to trust in the truth.

  But the words caught in his throat. Erik wanted more than anything to have children with Eileen, to have a future with Eileen, to spend time with Eileen.

  Unfortunately, the future was not his to promise.

  “It’s not a decision to make lightly,” he said quietly. “I have said for years that every firestorm should be consummated because our numbers are so diminished.” Erik frowned and fell silent, not certain how much to tell Eileen.

  He should have expected that he had no real choice. She leaned toward him, her eyes flashing in the light of the firestorm. “Then why not with me? Because I’m not Louisa?”

  “No, no.”

  “What aren’t you telling me? Is it because Sigmund turned Slayer?”

  Erik shook his head, knowing he’d have to share all that he knew. “Because there’s a portent about my firestorm, about a blood sacrifice being necessary to ensure the Pyr’s survival. I’m not sure it’s right to create a child who may not have a father.”

  Eileen paled. “You think you’ll be the sacrifice.”

  Erik closed his eyes and nodded. He brushed his lips across her knuckles and stepped past her to dress. “I don’t know. I do know that it wouldn’t be fair to you to leave you alone with a Pyr child.”

  He felt her watching him. He could almost hear her thinking. But Erik couldn’t talk about his lack of a future anymore, not yet.

  He was too shocked to find himself desperately wanting a future, a future with Eileen, and he didn’t want to burden her with what might not be his to offer. He was upset as he seldom was, shaken to his roots. He needed time to settle his thoughts.

  He left before they argued about it.

  Erik expected to die.

  Eileen was deeply upset by the idea. It was unfair that she should meet a man so interesting to her, so worthy of her trust and emotional investment, right before he died. She felt cheated already, although she supposed she wasn’t the first woman to face tragedy in love.

  There had been Louisa, after all.

  But Erik had left before Eileen had summoned an articulate argument. She didn’t think Erik wanted to die either, but he didn’t think he had a choice. Why did he believe what he did? Was there any other option? What could she do to help?

  Eileen emerged to find Erik holding court in his living room. She was rapidly introduced to the men—who were all Pyr—and the two women—who were mates. Not wanting to interrupt their conference, she put on a pot of coffee.

  Erik’s kitchen was spare but well organized, every tool that she would have wanted in place. He had fresh coffee beans and an electric bean grinder, the same model she had in her own apartment. Eileen instinctively liked his kitchen and saw his nature in its discipline. His home was almost monastic, a complete model of personal control.

  That made it all the more exciting that he’d revealed his passion and his secrets to her. Eileen could also relate to the practice of presenting a defensive facade to the world at large, and protecting one’s vulnerabilities from view.

  She did the same thing all the time.

  How much more did she and Erik have in common? She wanted the time to find out. She felt cheated by the very idea that he could be stolen from her right when they’d made this powerful connection. She ground the beans longer and finer than was strictly necessary, feeling that the world was unfair.

  But there had to be another option.

  Eileen just had to find it.

  While the coffee brewed, Eileen sat on the end of one couch to knit. The coffee smelled wonderful, the warm scent wafting through the apartment.

  The Pyr shared data, either Alex or Sara reminding them to speak aloud when they slipped into old-speak. Erik typed notes on his laptop. Donovan paced, his restless energy overflowing. Quinn leaned against the wall, as still as Donovan was active, his eyes revealing how intently he listened.

  Sloane perched on the other end of the sofa Eileen had chosen and spoke with soft intensity, tapping a finger on his knee to emphasize particular points. Delaney kept a distance between himself and the others, as if he feared infecting them with something vile, and alone of the Pyr, he seemed haunted.

  Eileen felt a bit sorry for him, although she couldn’t have said why. She was concerned about Erik, as he didn’t look to have slept at all. He seemed haggard and driven, but she knew better than to ask him to take a break now.

  He was serious about his responsibilities.

  And apparently indifferent to the price he personally paid to fulfill them. He would never say that the price was too high, for example, or put his own desires above those of the Pyr. She had seen the longing in his eyes while he’d made his confession. Erik didn’t think he had the right to ask for someone else to be the blood sacrifice, however much he wished to be with her.

  That touched her deeply.

  It also reminded Eileen of an old story. She knit and thought about it a bit more before saying anything.

  She was glad that the scarf was plain garter stitch. The wool was merino, both soft and smooth under her fingers, and the space-dyed colors were blending together in unanticipated but lovely ways. The result was vivid and full of life. She was free to think while her hands created something beautiful.

  Which was good, because there was a lot to think about.

  The two women were friendly, smart, and also visibly pregnant. Eileen recalled belatedly the Slayers’ insistence on the use of the word mate, which had irritated her.

  Now she understood and it irritated her for a different reason: She was supposed to be Erik’s mate, but he didn’t want to consummate the firestorm. While his objectives were noble, she knew she had to tell him that she’d figured out why he was wrong.

  When the pot sputtered at the end of the coffeemaker’s cycle, Eileen put her knitting aside. She asked who wanted a cup and wasn’t surprised when Erik shot her a look and a quick nod.

  He had to be exhausted. She’d save the Superman lecture for when they were alone, but he was definitely going to hear it. The others declined, but Eileen was ready to drink at least half the pot herself.

  “Cream? Sugar?” she asked Erik on her way to the kitchen.

  “Just black, please.”

  Austere. Minimalist. Of course. The man was nothing if not consistent. Eileen smiled to herself as she opened the cupboards in search of cups. She could get used to having that kind of consistency in her life.

  Erik had white porcelain dinnerware, plain but elegant, and the mugs were directly above the coffeepot. Eileen took two down, poured the coffee, then ladled sugar into one. She added cream, well aware that she was no minimalist when it came to coffee, then carried the cups back into the living room.

  She took Erik’s to him, feeling the heat rise as she crossed the room toward him. She felt warmer with every step, and knew her cheeks were flushed. More than that, she felt an intimate heat growing. She caught her breath as desire kindled deep inside her and remembered all too well the afternoon they’d spent together.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  She wanted nothing better than to consummate the firestorm, immediately and with enthusiasm. Eileen found Erik’s gaze locked upon her, his eyes that glittering, intense green. Her
mouth went dry and her face turned hot. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lip without meaning to do so and Erik caught his breath.

  But they weren’t alone.

  The Pyr had gone silent. A pin could have dropped in the next apartment and no one would have missed the sound. Aware that they must also be aware of the firestorm—and its effects—Eileen felt self-conscious. She handed Erik the mug so quickly that she almost spilled the coffee onto his laptop. He caught the handle and their fingers collided.

  A spark ignited, blazing brilliant orange from the point of contact. A tide of heat and lust rolled through Eileen, burned all the way to her toes, leaving her unsteady on her feet and yearning.

  More.

  She wanted more.

  Even if more with Erik was never going to be enough.

  He was right: It was burning hotter.

  Erik swallowed visibly and dropped his gaze, his fingers cradling the mug.

  “Wow,” Donovan whispered, and Eileen was embarrassed that her desire was so raw and so public. She carried her coffee back to her seat and fixed her attention on her knitting to compose herself. When she glanced up, Erik was frowning at his laptop screen, Delaney had taken a step out of the corner, and the Pyr were still silent.

  Looking between her and Erik.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Does anyone else find it ironic that Erik, of all Pyr, has been slow to consummate his firestorm?”

  The back of Erik’s neck turned red, but he scowled at his screen. “This is a personal matter.”

  Donovan grinned and Eileen recognized that these men knew one another well enough to tease each other. “Really? I thought it was the duty of each and every Pyr to breed.”

  “Your comment is inappropriate,” Erik snapped.

  Donovan and Quinn exchanged a smile. “I don’t think so,” Donovan said. He leaned a hip on the table Erik was using and folded his arms across his chest. He looked mischievous. “I mean, you were the one who told me about my duties with regards to Alex. In fact, you were the one who set me up, assigning me to protect Alex when you knew that she would be my destined mate.”

  Erik spoke tightly, without looking up. “It is my task to facilitate the scheme of the Great Wyvern.”