“So, which is it that has you?” His head tilted.
She staggered backward and landed on the bed, her headache thumping dully. Each of his arms propped by her sides, his alluring lips hovering within inches.
“The necklace or the man?”
She breathed in oak and a hint of pollen, aching to reach out and brush her fingers down the cotton which barely masked his solid form. She swallowed. “The-the man.”
“I would swear you thought otherwise but a moment ago.”
Alexia shook her head free of his clouding influence. “What is it?”
He grunted and plopped onto the bed next to her.
“Kiren?”
“It is all I have left of my family.”
She slid a hand over his. Only once had he addressed this subject, and it ended as abruptly as it started.
“I do not speak of them.” His eyes pierced her, pigment darkening. “And I choose to do so for a wise purpose.”
She turned toward him. “What happened to them?”
His brow crinkled. She reached up and smoothed a finger over the worry lines, dragging her touch down the white scar that ran from his eye to chin. “Is that how this happened?”
He pulled her hand away.
There were so many things about him she didn’t know, but the pain in his twitching frown—that she understood too well. She would not deepen the wound in his heart. “Why do you sleep on the floor when you possess so fine a bed?”
He met her gaze and shrugged. “It is comfortable.”
She giggled. “Comfortable?”
The corners of his mouth turned up. He brushed her cheek, and the smile faded. “I want to tell you everything.”
She trapped his hand against her skin. “Then tell me.”
His brows lowered. “As soon as you are mine.”
“I am yours.” Was he afraid of what she’d learn? Afraid she would no longer want or choose him?
“Our enemies, dearest. If you and I are prevented from...” He touched a finger to her lips and his head shook. “I am going to marry you. Today.”
The aching need in his gaze immobilized her as he fixed on her mouth. She cupped his hand and his head tilted, breath brushing her lips. She closed her eyes, trembling from the sunshine his touch sent through her soul. They should be married already.
His lips teased across hers. She looped her arms about his neck, drawing him solidly to her. His lips captured hers like a rogue at sea deprived of womanly company. They trailed down her neck and back up, sending bursts of need through her limbs. He slid her back onto the bed. She gasped.
He climbed over her. “Are you afraid of me, Alexia?”
“No.”
Their bodies aligned, his hand pressed at her hip. “Not even the slightest?”
She swallowed, a tremor of need slithering through her veins. She was vulnerable under his weight, but this was Kiren. “You would not hurt me.”
He frowned and sat back.
She pulled her skirt around and tucked her legs beneath her, sad for the loss of his closeness and determined to regain it. “And I would never hurt you.”
He drew a knuckle over his scarred cheek. “How much we still have to learn about one another.”
“And we shall.” She leaned forward, catching his shirt and pulling him closer, too aware that she was nearly touching him skin on skin. “Right now I wish to learn more about how you taste.”
His eyebrow peaked. She giggled and seized possession of his mouth once more. He tickled her sides and she squealed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Kiren pinned her flailing limbs against the mattress and leaned over her. The mirth in his grin trickled away. His breath cut across her chin, ragged, eyes an oceanic maelstrom of desire. Alexia surrendered to them, welcoming the press of his body against hers.
Blinding warmth burst through her frame, and she was no longer alone inside her head. Their minds danced about one another like two frolicking deer. Father’s gardens emerged, swallowed by a little church on a hill, her reflection in the mirror, his home in Wilhamshire.
I want you to see me, the words echoed. See me, Alexia.
She stilled.
Glades and ancient buildings filtered by so hastily, she could not fully envision a single one, or recall if they’d been her habitation or his. The loneliness which had possessed him seized her heart, like a gaping blackness now banished by the rising sun of hope. That sun brightened the spires of a gleaming white building, seven diamond spears reaching for the sky, and within the translucent walls he knelt, head bowed, chained by manacles of shadow. The chains glistened, evolving from pitch to crystal, and then dissipating in sparkles. He lifted his freed wrists, hair falling back to reveal his pronounced nose. A tenuous gasp echoed through the tower. She reached to touch him, her fingers the essence of light warming his skin. She lifted his chin. His eyes were as clear as glass, drinking in the radiance, his mouth open in awe, in gratitude, in aching submission.
“Ahem.” The sound was far away. It shook the glistening floor beneath her feet, and the vision evaporated as Kiren’s mouth lifted from hers. He gazed into her eyes, his filled with wonder and vulnerability.
She brushed ginger hair back from his face, becoming aware of his body, pressed to hers, separated only by a few thin layers of cloth, the rigid lines of his pendant cutting through her gown.
“Sir?”
She gasped and scrambled back from him on the bed, his pendant swinging free. Her entire body was a torrid flame.
Kiren’s eyes closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he straightened up. “Yes, Edward?”
The memory keeper stood in the open doorframe, gaze averted toward the hall. “Lucian has arrived, sir.”
Alexia pressed a fist to her mouth, ashamed both of being caught, and of being so very loose.
Kiren met her stare. His head tilted, concern in his oceanic swells. “Very good. Make preparations for departure.”
Edward nodded and hurried away. Kiren scooted closer, a hand lifting hesitantly to her cheek. She couldn’t meet his gaze. He cradled her to his chest, fingers stroking over her hair. He turned her face to his, but she focused on his shoulder. He placed his lips against hers, tenderly.
“Forgive me, love?” He brushed a wisp of hair from her eyelashes.
She pressed the backs of her hands against her flaming neck. “You wish me to see you?”
His cheek dimpled.
Alexia couldn’t remember how to breathe.
“The man who will marry us awaits my company.”
“Lucian?”
He nodded. “And your keepers are anxious to prepare you.” He slipped off the bed and assisted her down. “In the course of but a couple hours, we may share this bed again as man and wife.”
She blushed.
He lifted her chin. “Unless you have any objections to our union?”
She shook her head vigorously. He chuckled and his mouth touched hers again, this time interrupted by a grunting Nelly.
Twelve
Jitters
Alexia brushed a hand over silver lace, unable to stop her trembling. Ethel patiently gathered the shimmering material to fit it about her sleeves.
“It looks better on you than it did her.” Nelly winked.
Alexia heaved a breath, constricted by the boning of the corset. The style was dated, but the richness of the gown’s heritage filled her with gratitude. Ethel had explained it would have been Dana’s, had her mother been married, but originally it had been Ethel’s.
Alexia would have liked to wear Sarah’s first wedding gown, but the dress was certainly gone after her aunt’s disappearance. To the Soulless. The Soulless who may very well find her this evening.
“Is there a reason we do not wait to marry until after the moonless cycle?” Alexia asked.
“How very astute of you to notice.” Ethel grinned.
“It’s our way.” Nelly dug through a satchel of sewing stuffs.
Ethel bit off the final thread.
“The moonless night symbolizes new beginnings. We come of age on moonless nights, most our women give birth on moonless nights, and we marry on moonless nights.”
Alexia scowled. “But the Soulless are out on moonless nights.”
Ethel nodded. “It resounds with them as well.”
“Enough depressin’ prattle.” Nelly finished with Alexia’s hair and slipped a crimson ribbon about her neck. “Silver, for the purest life, red for power and prosperity.”
Ethel tucked green buds into Alexia’s sculpted curls. “Green for wisdom and new life.”
Alexia clasped her hands before her to stop them from shaking. All her life she had believed this day impossible—and now here she stood, dressed as a bride. So why did her knees rattle and every breath cause her pain? She was marrying the man she loved. Her days of loneliness and isolation were over.
The trembling increased. She had always been a solitary individual. The idea of sharing the space in her head...
She pressed her clammy hands to her cheeks. He would see her as no one ever had, not merely in the flesh, but the intimacy of her inner thoughts. They would be eternally bound, endlessly connected, unquestioningly one. Would he like what he found, or would he toss her aside as some silly wife once he’d had his way? Would her relationship end as badly as Father’s?
Bellezza’s warning remained. Alexia ached for the girl, for how much pain and suffering she’d endured, but some truth resonated through her words. There would never be another choice after today, unless she murdered the man she loved. All growing up she’d believed she would end up a spinster in Father’s library, or perhaps a governess to Sarah’s children.
Sarah.
Her heart seized. Her dear sister would not be there to witness her marriage, nor would Father. It was as if her old life truly were dead. Past Alexia had been slain the instant she froze time and became a powerful Passionate asset. But she couldn’t believe that was the reason Kiren wanted her. Surely the others, but not him. And yet, she questioned if perhaps some small part of him was driven by that motive.
“There. All finished.” Ethel stood back, beaming at her handiwork. “Shall we be off then?”
Lester appeared in the doorway, a sword-bearing scabbard in his grip. “Aye, she’s perfect ’cept fer one thing.” He offered the weapon.
She couldn’t help her own blush. “Lester, I am going to my wedding, not to war.”
“’Tis tradition in times of war to wear ones’ weapon, even to the altar. Besides, no weddin’ is complete without a gift or two.”
“We have no need of gifts.”
He placed the scabbard in her hands, belt dangling off the sheath. “But this one already belongs to ye.”
Confused, she scanned the saber’s casing, startled to find red ribbing around the hilt, its antique weight familiar in her grasp.
Her mirth dropped into a chasm. This was the very sword she’d wielded against the Soulless when they ambushed Kiren at her father’s estate. It weighed heavier on her now than it had, a tool that deflected numerous creatures and took the life of one.
She scowled. But everyone insisted the Soulless couldn’t be killed.
Lester’s dark eyes found hers, the youthful cores filled with something ancient and ominous. He patted her hand over the hilt. “Keep ’er safe.”
Why did it sound like he was addressing the sword?
Alexia swallowed, not excited about the anvil weight Ethel fastened about her hips, or about the silence of traveling by mist.
“Keep this up and you are going to shake to pieces.” Nelly caught her elbow and nodded at Ethel. “Just do it then.”
Father paced between trees, chest heaving. Alexia couldn’t believe he was here as she waited for him to notice her and her two escorts. The peak of a shingled roof poked above the young willows, their destination.
“He has been here all night,” Ethel whispered, “staying in the church rectory since his rescue.”
Alexia turned to her mother-figure who had disappeared after delivering Kiren the previous evening. “Thank you for bringing him to safety. Is this where you weathered the night also?”
A smile spread across Ethel’s face. “The master asked me to ensure his wellbeing.”
She embraced the dear woman. “You have my eternal gratitude.”
Father glanced up, his grimace dropping along with his mouth. He blinked at her and crossed his arms, inhaling a slow breath.
“Hello, Father.”
He extended a hand.
She looped his arm and took up his side.
“You are quite breathtaking, child.”
She blushed, her heart swelling in joy, in gratitude. Perhaps all was not right, but Father was here! Warmth lodged in the hearth of her soul. Tears pooled and she wanted to clap or sing or dance in thankfulness. She could marry Kiren now.
“I wish your mother could have been here.” He patted her hand.
“As do I.” Though she couldn’t decide which one he meant. She would have liked both, Rosalind, who raised her, and her natural parent, Dana. Of course, Dana had probably watched all this in her dreams or from the absence of time.
“Will you excuse us?” He nodded to Ethel and Nelly. They turned and disappeared toward the building. His voice quieted. “You have seen so many things from which I hoped to shelter you, and you are much stronger than I thought.”
She grinned and studied the soil under foot.
Father bit his lip, glaring straight ahead. “His ways are foreign to me, and I admit, they frighten me.”
She patted his arm.
“I worry about you.” He glanced at her.
“I will worry about you as well.”
He pulled her around to face him, mulch twisting under her slippered soles. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
Was she certain? Could she even bring herself to consider life without Kiren? “He brings me great happiness.”
He grunted impatiently. “But this is much more than a question of happiness—it is a question of family. Is this the man you would have father and raise your children?”
She blinked up at him. Children? She hadn’t given the idea any thought, but that was the way: marriage, then family. Her parents had certainly followed it, but they had only one child, their marriage destroyed. She knew nothing of raising children. Did Kiren even desire a lineage—or would they too cause him stress and constant anxiety? She had heard nothing of Passionate offspring beyond Miles and her mother’s sad story. Was progeny so rare among their kind for a reason?
But Kiren had raised Miles, and Miles had been so kind, so gentle, and so dear—despite his rare talent and the distance others kept.
Miles…
Her heart ached at his absence. If Kiren could cultivate one so challenged, surely he would prove a better parent than she could ever hope to be.
She nodded. “If I should be blessed with children, I should wish for no better partner.”
Father gave her a tight smile.
Thirteen
Anticipation
Kiren paced in front of the little church, unable to focus on the script of his pocket Bible. He tucked the little red book into his coat.
Edward and Lester were inside the white building with the priest, informing Lucian of all the battles and changes that had occurred while he was away in the orient. Normally that would be Kiren’s job, but at the moment he was finding it difficult to tether his thoughts.
Batting away a hanging tree branch, he closed his eyes.
Soon.
Soon Alexia would be his. Every second that stood between now and their union was torture. He ached to be for her what she’d been to him: stabilizing, constant, compassionate, hope—the promise of a brighter age. He could hardly imagine their world together, a place bursting with color where every thought, every touch, every interaction held meaning. Never again would he wander alone through the vales of his impossible decisions. Never again would she question her worth. They would shar
e in everything, his wisdom and her selflessness guiding them both into a vibrant future.
He could want for nothing more.
He froze. But if she knew too much, would it change the future? Or the past?
Kiren pulled a hand through his hair. Time. It wasn’t set. If his years had taught him anything, it was that life could change in an instant. Everything he treasured might be snatched away at any moment, and she might have already seen it happen.
Promise me you will keep our secret. The words echoed in his mind.
He bit down on the bitter oath, souring in his mouth like overcooked Brussels sprouts.
He couldn’t risk it.
Some truths would have to be withheld, but could he do it? Could he fracture that piece of himself and tuck it down so deep she’d never find it? And more importantly, could she truly love him if he couldn’t give her absolutely everything?
Feet crunched through the underbrush. He straightened up, tugging at his coat to smooth the impeccably starched wool, heart skipping a beat. This was it.
Ethel and Nelly emerged through the branches.
He scoured the woods beyond them. “Where is Alexia?”
“Speaking with her father.”
His mouth was instantly dry. “Alone?” He didn’t wait for an answer, speeding past them into the woods. Air caught in his throat, his breathing too shallow. If anything happened to her, right at this instant when the world was about to turn right, he would never forgive himself!
Charles’s bass pulled him forward, the patter of Ethel and Nelly’s feet assaulting him from behind.
“Sir, wait!” Nelly called.
Kiren skidded to a halt. His mouth dropped open.
Silver silk flowed down Alexia’s thin frame and beveled over her hips where a sword hung—an appropriate addition. The crimson band about her neck drew him to her heartbeat, pumping within that perfect breast, rising and falling in short breaths.
Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) Page 6
