by Anne Hope
“I’m the reason she’s dead.” The confession tunneled through her, leaving her feeling spent and empty.
“What? No.” He pulled away from her, even as she labored to hold on to him. She didn’t want him looking at her face, didn’t want him to see the stain of guilt in her eyes.
She fixed her gaze on one of the buttons on his shirt instead. “When the current tossed us, you stayed under too long. I tried to find you, but I couldn’t. The water was too muddy, the tide too strong.” Remnants of the desperation she’d felt echoed through her bloodstream. She could still see his lifeless form, his pale skin and unmoving eyes. “Adrian, you drowned.”
He placed his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I didn’t drown. I’m sitting right here with you.”
She shook her head. “You weren’t breathing. Your skin was ice cold. Your lips were blue.” She maintained her tenuous grip on her composure. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. “I prayed to Micah, begged him to save you.”
Emma paused long enough to draw a deep drag of air into her lungs. “He said when one life is spared, another must be sacrificed. He asked me if I was willing to pay the price, and I said yes.” Her fingers grabbed a fistful of his shirt, as though just talking about what had transpired might turn back the hands of time and take him from her. “I couldn’t lose you.” The guilt increased tenfold. “I still can’t.”
What scared her most was that, even knowing what she knew now, she’d probably still make the same choice. “And that’s why I can’t forgive myself.”
He cradled her face, and there was force and tenderness in the gesture. “You’re going to listen to me, Emma, and you’re going to understand. It wasn’t your choice. You didn’t put that gun in your mother’s hand. You didn’t pull the trigger. She did. It was her choice.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit down on it. “But why? Why would she do that? My mother is the last person who’d take her own life. She was strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“That’s why she was able to do it,” he countered, “because she was strong. She knew that as long as she lived, your enemies would try to use her against you.”
He reflected for a moment. “When you were out cold, she and I had a talk.”
This snagged her interest, and she held her breath as she waited for him to speak.
“She asked me if I would always be there to watch over you. When I told her that I would, she looked almost relieved, like she was passing the mantle over to me.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, hungry for the comfort he offered. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but now it all makes sense. She knew she wouldn’t be able to protect you forever.”
“I didn’t want her to protect me. I just wanted her to be there.”
“I know. But she was afraid. Afraid her human frailties would hold you back, that the Kleptopsychs would use your love for her against you.” He brushed his mouth across her forehead, and the loving act only made the ache inside her worse. “She wanted to set you free so you could fulfill your destiny.”
The tight fist in her chest gave her heart a painful squeeze. Her mother had protected her till the very end. Maybe she didn’t agree with her mom’s tactics, but at least now she understood.
“And you did. You killed Kora.” His breath skimmed her ear, hot and insistent. “It’s finally over.”
“Are you sure?” Doubt stiffened her spine, and she withdrew from his arms. “Are you sure Kora was the one leading the Kleptopsychs?”
“It had to be. She was next in line after Kyros.”
Emma ran her hand through her hair in frustration. Given her bleak mood, she hadn’t bothered to style it after her shower, opting to let it dry on its own, and now the wild snarls ensnared her fingers like a spider’s web. “What if it was that other woman, the one with the crazy ability to control water? Micah said I’m supposed to stop a great flood by killing the Kleptopsychs’ new leader. Who better to bring a flood than her?”
A muscle leapt in his jaw. “You’re right. I considered the possibility, too. I even asked her flat-out if she was leading the Kleptopsychs, and she denied it.”
She stood and stalked the room, holding on to the towel to keep it from pooling around her feet. “And do you honestly think it’s beneath her to lie?”
“No. But I do know how things work in my world. Bloodlines are everything. A firstborn would never take orders from someone of lower rank, especially if that person were damaged.”
Emma wanted to believe he was right, that this ordeal was finally behind them, but that nagging feeling inside her refused to abate. “If you’re sure.”
She went to stand by the window. When she peered outside, she half expected to see the world submerged again. She imagined wild torrents of wind, swirling tides, a mash-up of bodies and debris. She closed her eyes, but the image persisted, a grim depiction of her worst fears.
Adrian rested his hands on her shoulders, pulling her against him. This time, when she opened her eyes, all she saw in the mirrored surface of the glass was their joint reflection. Their bodies meshed so perfectly, two beings fused as one, that for a moment a sense of rightness fell to encompass her. It was hard to believe anything bad could ever happen in the universe when he held her this way.
She felt the heat of his body, the lean hardness of it, and something inside her began to melt. The need to kiss him, born of fear and pain and desperation, strangled her. She veered in his arms, pulled his head down and claimed his mouth. His kiss was the only thing that could heal the wound the events of the day had carved in her soul. The only thing that could make her feel whole again.
And she needed to feel whole, to banish the loneliness, to grab hold of the rightness, if only for a short while.
His mouth slanted across hers, warm and fervent and tasting of spring. His arms enfolded her, and the ground slid from beneath her feet. The only thing keeping her standing was him. He surrounded her, consumed her, chased every thought from her head, and that was exactly what she needed right now. To forget.
If she could’ve crawled inside him and hidden there forever, she would’ve. He was her shelter, her heart and her home. She stroked his face, his neck, his jawline. The mere fact that he was here, kissing her, loving her, was a miracle.
Maybe that was what she needed to focus on, not the pain or the guilt, but the fact that she’d witnessed something wondrous today.
He broke the kiss, and her feet touched the ground again. His harsh breath brushed her mouth. “It seems wrong to want you right now. You’re upset and vulnerable, and I don’t want to take advantage of—”
She placed a silencing finger on his lips. “Every time I close my eyes, I see death,” she told him. “Except when you kiss me. When you kiss me, all I see is life. I need that right now. I need to see life, to feel it.”
His mouth crushed hers again, and this time there was no hesitation, only heat and vigor wrapped in an undercurrent of need. The towel fell to her waist but remained trapped between their bodies as they clung to each other. His hands explored her back, caressing, kneading, seducing.
She pulled back only long enough to let the towel flutter to the floor. His hand found her breast, cupping it, and desire shot straight to her soul. The world could end tomorrow, and she’d still have this moment. This one moment of utter and complete rightness.
His kiss grew hotter, more frantic. He plundered her mouth, taking what he needed, giving her what she needed in return. Maybe love couldn’t bring back what was lost, but it could heal and it could redeem.
She wrapped herself around him, and his heat branded her. With a forwardness that startled her, she guided him to the bed and pushed him until he lay flat on his back. Then she straddled him.
Emma wasn’t used to taking control. In the few sexual experiences she’d had, she’d preferred to submit rather than dominate. But tonight, she needed to take control, if only to prove to herself that she could.
Adrian let her have her way with him, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she peeled the clothing from his body and ran her lips over the smooth expanse of his chest. Her hands and mouth explored him in ways she’d never allowed herself to explore him before. She took pleasure from the act of giving him pleasure, marveled at the effect her inexperienced touches had on him.
She tasted the subtle nuances of his skin, the way they changed as his desire grew. She became drunk on him, her senses swimming, her pulse pounding to a rhythm only they heard.
Each groan she pried from his lips fueled the yearning low in her abdomen, until she burned from it. His hands gripped her hips, desperate, demanding, and it emboldened her. With a gentle, loving kiss, she welcomed him inside her.
Her hair fell to curtain his face, her arms framing his body, her gaze locked on his. She wanted to witness the moment pleasure overtook him and know she’d been the cause of it. She wanted to give him everything she was—her heart, her soul, her body—and not hold anything back.
Stormy blue eyes stared up at her, and as she gazed within their fevered depths, hope sprang once more. This time, when the tide swept in and carried them away, she happily surrendered to it.
Chapter Forty-Two
Yesterday’s rainstorm may have wiped away everything Adrian had built, but dawn still came. It invaded the room, boldly and unapologetically, as though it had every right to.
Adrian ignored the intrusion, pulling Emma tighter against him, reveling at the peace that had settled over her sometime during the night. She’d tossed and turned for hours before finally succumbing to sleep, and when she had, he’d breathed a sigh of relief.
He hated seeing her in such turmoil, understood better than most the ravaging effects of grief and guilt. The last thing he’d wanted was for Emma to fall victim to those destructive emotions, but he knew now how unrealistic that expectation had been. He couldn’t protect her from life any more than he could protect her from death. All he could do was hold her as she slowly pieced herself back together again.
With dawn came the promise of a new beginning, but also the promise of renewed grief in the harsh light of day. It would be a while before Emma smiled freely again. That bullet hadn’t only stolen her mother from her, it had stolen a chunk of her innocence, that inner light that had come so easily to Angie. As Emma, she’d had to struggle to hold on to it, and last night it had been ruthlessly torn from her grasp.
When she’d made love to him, he’d sensed her desire to reclaim control of her life, and he’d done everything in his power to help her accomplish that. But he wasn’t sure if it had been enough, if he could ever fully fill the gap her mother’s death had left in her soul.
She stirred, and his muscles tensed. He didn’t want the peaceful moment to end just yet. He wanted to keep holding her, to pretend the morning hadn’t come. He knew important decisions needed to be made today, and he wasn’t ready to make them.
Emma flung her arm over her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. She groaned as awareness crept in. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.” His fingers squeezed her waist. “Go back to sleep. It’s not like we have anywhere to go.”
She moved her arm out of the way and peered up at him. “I can’t.”
Grabbing the bag of clothing on the floor, she bounded from the bed and headed to the bathroom, leaving him alone to ruminate on the future. His community was gone, Eddie had betrayed him, and the Rogues he’d once considered family had all jumped ship. So where did that leave him?
Right back where he’d started, at odds with the Kleptopsychs and not quite aligned with the Watchers. He’d never really stopped to consider why he was different from the other Rogues, why his conscience refused to be silenced and his humanity kept rearing up within him. He’d always believed it was because of his connection to his old soul, but now he wasn’t all that sure. There was more at play here.
Maybe he, too, had a destiny. One he was only now beginning to see.
Emma swept back into the room, dressed in the jeans and cotton top he’d picked out for her, her unruly hair secured in a ponytail with the help of the red ribbon the cashier had used to bundle up the clothing. She looked fresh and innocent, but the shadows behind her eyes concerned him.
“Are you all right?” Dumb question, but it was all he could think to ask.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m not as frail as I look. I’m hurt and I’m angry and I feel like I just swam across the Pacific, but I’ll survive. Not only that, but I’ll find a way to avenge my mother’s death.”
“You already have. Kora is dead.”
Cold fire ignited in her gaze. “But her accomplice still lives, and so do many of her followers. My mother died so I could save the world, and that’s what I intend to do. I want to take them down. Every last one of them.”
He admired her determination, her strength and her purpose. It made the decision he was already contemplating making all that much easier. “If you’re serious about this, then there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?”
Anxiety skipped through him, and he nearly reconsidered. But he couldn’t. They’d run out of options…and allies. Emma was determined to singlehandedly take on the Kleptopsychs, and he had a responsibility to keep her safe, whatever it took. Whatever he had to do. “We need to join the Watchers. Officially.”
Marcus met them at the small diner flanking the motel. When Adrian saw his father stroll through the door, he suffered a new onslaught of nerves.
He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. Never in a million years would he have predicted this day would come—the day he’d willingly sign his life over to the very group of people who’d once hunted him. That he’d consider doing so now only went to show how desperate he was.
“I came as soon as I could.” Marcus pulled out a chair and joined them, a scowl darkening his features. “I don’t understand how the Kleptopsychs tracked you down. Cal’s cloak is usually impossible to breach.”
“The cloak held.” Adrian thanked the waitress with a nod when she came to fill their coffee mugs. “It was an inside job. I was betrayed by one of my own.”
Marcus arched two puzzled brows. “Who?”
Adrian took a deep drag from his mug. He knew it was a stalling tactic, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the man’s name. The betrayal was still too fresh, the lingering fog of disbelief too thick.
“Eddie,” Emma answered for him.
“Eddie? The cop?” The surprise in the Watcher’s voice was unmistakable. Marcus had met Eddie twice before—back when the Rogue first turned and more recently, when he and Regan had been bunking at Adrian’s community in Spokane. “Why the hell would he do that?”
Adrian stared at the black liquid in his cup. “He thought he was looking out for the community.” He wrapped his hands around the porcelain mug. Heat seeped into his flesh but failed to thaw the ice in his veins. “He found out about Emma, about her soul and Cal’s plan to use it to exterminate our kind. It shook his faith in me, and Kora took advantage of it. She made him promises she had no intention of keeping.”
Now his friend was dead, the community he’d built destroyed. “Maybe if I’d been straight with him from the start—” Adrian pushed the useless thought away and downed the rest of his coffee, slamming the mug on the table with more force than he’d intended. Emma reached across the space that divided them and covered his hand with hers in an attempt to calm him. It had the desired effect. His anger and self-recrimination slid away, and he turned his hand over and fused his palm with hers.
“At least one good thing came out of this,” Marcus said. “Kora is dead.” He grinned at Emma. “You did it. You fulfilled your destiny.”
Emma’s fingers tensed. “Yeah, I guess.”
Marcus’s gaze slashed to hers. “You sound doubtful.”
With a conspiratorial glance directed at Adrian, she proceeded to share her concerns with the Wat
cher. “It’s just…there was another woman there. She had this crazy ability to control water, and for a second I got the feeling that maybe she was the one I was supposed to stop. But I didn’t. I chose to save Adrian, and she got away.”
Marcus frowned, his shoulders stiffening. “This woman, was she by any chance disfigured?”
Emma’s eyes widened with interest. “Yes, do you know her?”
“Her name’s Diane.” The waitress returned to take their orders, but Marcus waved her away, and she promptly retreated. “She was one of Athanatos’s followers. When Athanatos died, she set her sights on Kyros, helped him get his farming operation off the ground.”
Deep grooves bracketed Marcus’s mouth as he reflected. “The woman’s driven, that’s for sure, but she’s no leader. She’s a leech, nothing more. She attaches herself to the person she deems most powerful in order to feed her inflated ego. Then, when that person falls, she moves on to someone else. That’s been her pattern for years.”
Emma tightened her hold on Adrian’s hand. “Could she be the threat I’m meant to eliminate?”
“I doubt it,” Marcus replied, “but I can’t guarantee it.”
Sunlight knifed through the window, cleaving the table in half. “If there’s even the slightest chance—” Emma’s voice trembled, “—then I want to be prepared. I want you to teach me.”
Marcus’s gaze sought out Adrian’s. “Is she saying what I think she’s saying?”
Adrian gave his father a reluctant nod. He’d known for days this was where they’d ultimately end up. He’d just been too stubborn to admit it. Till now. “She’s ready. And so am I.” The words scraped his throat like razor blades. “We’d like to join the Watchers, if you’ll still have us.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Unsettling silence permeated the small diner as Marcus stared them both down. Emma didn’t understand the tension that loomed between Adrian and his father, but there it was, a tangible mist in the air.
