by Kiki Howell
Natalya felt Caine sagging against her, his weariness almost palpable in the dark. She pulled away, looking up at him. His face was lined, his head dropping.
“Do you really think this is going to work? That we can defeat Willem and his pack?”
“I have no choice, but to believe it will work.” He smiled briefly, and then it faded, as if the effort was too great to maintain. “Malachi said that part of working with the mind is believing in the impossible, the improbable, and the unlikely. And to never tip your hand to the enemy.” He tapped his forehead with his index finger. “There’s more power up here than I’d ever imagined, Natalya. It’s incredible. I’ve only discovered, but the barest fraction of that power.”
“Do you think that’s enough? You’re strong, faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. You can fight hand to hand, can’t you?” She heard the worry in her voice. Caine drew a breath, his voice low in the dark. The first bird called in the distance, answered by another. Their stolen moment before dawn was almost gone.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Natalya. My instinct to survive, is stronger than their instinct to kill.”
Chapter Ten
CAINE PULLED HIMSELF reluctantly from sleep. The hearthstones were cold and hard beneath his body, but he’d barely felt them. He’d lain down with Natalya at his side, and the last he remembered was her soft kiss, before he’d lost consciousness.
He sat up, wiping a hand across his face. It was past sunset, but Malachi was a dark shadow on his bed. Caine tensed for a moment, thinking the worst, but he heard the soft sigh of the old man’s breath, and relaxed. Let him sleep; he’d need all his strength later this night.
The door to the hut was open, and he rose, padding barefoot into the velvety night. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, overcome with the simple pleasure of the moment, the smells and scents of the night, filling him.
Then he drew another breath, testing the air, teasing out each scent, until he had a mental image of the world around him. There was a rabbit not far away, oblivious to him. A deer further off, no, two of them. They browsed for a moment, earthy greenness rising around them. Then they moved off, seeking to bed down for the night.
Further down the mountain, he scented his and Natalya’s old trail through the woods. He frowned; if he could still catch the scent, Willem could. Especially Willem, with his werewolf’s keen nose. But nothing could be done about that. They’d find them eventually anyway. Caine knew that, in his head, in his heart, in his very bones.
But nothing came to him on the gentle breeze that told him where Willem was. There was no rank scent of werewolf, either in human form or wolf. It bothered him. He was anxious, wanted to know the exact time when all this was going to happen.
“Use your mind, not your nose.”
Caine jumped, spinning around. Malachi was in the doorway, crimson robes pulled tightly around his tall frame.
“You can see what you desire, if you apply yourself, boy. Have you forgotten so soon what I’ve taught you?”
Caine stepped back, as Malachi strode quickly out of the hut, and down the path. He watched for a moment, until the vampire disappeared into the forest, then sighed. They’d be having rabbit for their meal, judging by the direction Malachi had taken. It didn’t matter at this point. All Caine wanted was blood, to give him the strength to meet Willem, and his pack, and to defeat them.
“Caine? Are you alright?”
He jumped again, spinning back around. Natalya stood behind him.
“Why is everyone intent on sneaking up on me tonight?” Caine blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d heard me call your name.” She stepped into the light spilling from the doorway, casting a soft yellow patch on the ground outside the door.
“I’m sorry as well. My nerves are on edge. Every noise I hear is Willem, or his wolves.”
“Can you see them yet?”
Caine shook his head. “I was trying to catch their scent, but I cannot. I haven’t tried to see them...to use my mind.” He closed his eyes, suddenly weary. “It does no good to search for them. It only tires me. They’ll make their presence known. I don’t think Willem is one for a surprise attack.”
When Caine opened his eyes, he found Natalya standing close. With a gentle caress, she touched his cheek, fingers tracing over his lips, and down his neck. A smile crossed her face, and then she took his hand.
“Come. I think we need a distraction.”
With gentle insistence, she led him away from the light, into the quiet darkness of the forest.
“Natalya, we don’t have time...”
“We do, Caine. You can’t sense Willem, and neither can Malachi. We have enough time.”
She pulled him down into a bed of ferns. Their scent rose around him, green and lush. He looked down at Natalya, lying among the fronds. Her fingers traced a line down his cheek, over his throat, reaching for the laces on his tunic. She looked at him in surprise, as he covered her hand with his.
“What is it? I thought we hadn’t much time.” She smiled at him.
“Shush now, be still for a minute. Before we...before any of this happens, I want you to know that I love you.”
“I do know that.”
“I said be still. I’m not finished.”
Her hands dropped from the laces on his tunic, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed.
“I love you, Natalya. With my heart, my soul, my body. You know this isn’t the life I’d have chosen for you, if it were up to me. But somehow God, or fate, or just random chance, brought us together. And now, even with wolves breathing down our necks, there is nowhere else I want to be except here, with you.”
Even in the dark, he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes. One spilled over, running down her cheek. Caine leaned forward, catching the cool drop with the tip of his tongue. He pressed closer, his lips against her skin. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him, as she cried silently against him.
Her lips found his, and he felt like every passion that welled up inside him was returned in her kiss. She kissed him again and again, as if she wanted to experience it over and over. He let her have her way, let her explore his mouth with her tongue, and when her fingers slid down to the laces of his tunic, he rolled onto his back, giving her what she wanted.
Natalya straddled his hips, her eyes dark, as she looked at him. A smile spread slowly across her face, as her fingers left the laces of his tunic, and moved further down his body, finding the laces to his breeches.
Beneath her, his body came to life, desire flooding through him. He grabbed her hips, fingers digging into her, before sliding down her long thighs. Her dress and his breeches were in the way of everything he wanted, and he sat up suddenly, covering the surprised sound she made with a kiss.
He grabbed the hem of her skirts, tugging them upward, as she rose onto her knees. In a heartbeat, he had her dress lifted to expose her legs, his hands greedily sliding beneath the material, kneading her smooth skin.
She’d undone the laces of his breeches and he lay back, as she pulled the flaps aside, her hands working beneath the fabric. He gasped, as her fingers closed over him, already hard, already impatient to be inside of her.
Natalya settled back down onto him, and he shoved the skirts of her dress high, watching, as she guided his cock into her. He drew a whistling breath between his teeth, as she sank down, eyes fixed on her hand holding him, watching as he entered her, as her scorching heat surrounded him, as she took him in. He was home.
“Oh beautiful Natalya. What you do to me.” He released her skirts, hands moving to her breasts, fingers sliding beneath the neck of her dress. It took only a moment to free her breasts, the bodice of her dress pushed rudely down.
He pulled her down to him, his face buried between her breasts, lavishing kisses on her soft skin. His fingers kneaded possessively, as his thumbs slid over her nipples. At his touch, she cried out, the nipple hardening beneath his thumb.
Turning his head, he slid his lips along her breast, until he found her hard nipple. Running his tongue across it, he felt it the shiver that went through Natalya. He smiled against her, pulling her breast into his mouth.
She’d been moving slowly over him, rising and falling, but as he sucked more forcefully, she ground down on him, spreading her legs further apart, shifting her hips forward and back, in a way that had him groaning against her breast.
Caine kept one hand on her breast, moving the other between them, down to the place she was joined with him. He ran one finger between her legs, finding the spot that made her cry out again. With slow deliberation, he began stroking her, matching his movements to her, catching the rhythm. He broke away from her breast, and she sat back, hands resting on his chest.
Her hair fell around her face, but he could see the wanton desire there, in her eyes, playing around the corners of her parted lips. She moved more forcefully now, sliding him in and out of her hot sheath. He continued stroking her, pushing her, exciting her even more.
She was moaning above him, her hands now where his had been, molded to her breasts, caressing herself. Caine felt a jolt of pure erotic arousal surge through his veins, and his body shuddered, hips rising of their own accord. He’d never felt anything like this, had never been so completely in thrall with a woman’s body, to the sensations, and emotions she aroused in him.
Every inch of his body felt as if it were on fire, every nerve singing with passion and desire. He looked up at Natalya, her head thrown back, hair cascading over her shoulders, wanton and seductive. And she was his, and he hers, completely, body, heart, and soul.
That thought took him to the edge, wracking his body with shudders and tremors. He twisted, and bucked beneath Natalya, seeking his release. He cried out, the sound echoing through the trees, and then Natalya joined his cry, her body writhing above him, heat and energy flowing from her to him.
She fell forward, and he caught her, his arms around her. His body was still on edge, raw power still fueling his release, and he pulled her hard against him, hands moving down, almost desperately grabbing her hips, her ass, pulling her down, as he rose time after time to meet her. It seemed he could not fill her enough.
Their hearts beat in wild concert, as she lay against him. Her warm breasts and peaked nipples rubbed against his chest, soft counterpoints, to the storm raging in the rest of his body.
With a strangled cry, he rolled over, still buried in her, now in control, now able to take her as he wanted. Arms braced on the ferns beside her, he thrust almost desperately, seeking to satisfy the hunger that had grown almost unbearable.
And then he broke, and with a final thrust, took his release. He threw back his head, his feral cry rising to the sky, as he held himself buried in her, his hips shuddering against her body. He felt her contract around him, felt her arch beneath him, and he opened his eyes, looking down at her, wanting to see her as she broke.
She was more beautiful than he could have imagined, hair spread in a silky carpet, breasts rising from the bodice of her dress. Her lips—the lips that had sustained him in his fevered delirium—were full and soft, parted slightly.
“Natalya.”
She opened her eyes at the sound of her name, looking at him, as if for the first time. Wordlessly, she reached for him, pulled him close, and held him tightly, as he spent himself inside her.
“I WANT YOU TO LEAVE. Now.”
Caine stood in the doorway to the hut, shirtless, his chest covered in sweat. They’d come back from their bed of ferns, hand in hand, and he’d left her at the hut’s door with a kiss. He’d wanted to search for Willem. And he’d found him. They were close. There was still time for Natalya to flee.
Malachi was sitting on his cot, eyes closed, mind somewhere distant. Natalya stood by the hearth, watching Caine with an expression that told him he would have a fight on his hands.
“No. I will not leave you.”
Caine took a step toward her. She moved out of the shadows, and he saw her clearly, her face a study in contrast—her trembling mouth told him just how much she feared the outcome of this battle, but the fierce determination in her eyes bespoke of the lengths she was willing to go to see this through, standing by his side.
“You cannot stay.”
“Why? I have been a vampire much longer than you have been a Nequam. I am fast and strong in my own right, and more than capable of defending myself.”
“I’m not worried that you will not be able to defend yourself. I’m worried that instead of keeping yourself safe, you will throw your life away, in order to spare mine.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up one hand. “Am I wrong?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You are not wrong. I couldn’t bear to stand by, and watch you die, Caine.”
He nodded. “I cannot stand the thought of you watching that happen, either. Not that I want it to happen. But I cannot fight, cannot give this my full attention, if I’m distracted by you, by what you might do to protect me.” He closed the short distance between them.
“I need every ounce of my abilities focused on Willem. Do you understand? I cannot—we cannot—afford anything less.”
“Leave, child. Do as he says.”
They both looked up, Natalya turning away from Caine. Malachi stood behind them, crimson robes settling around him.
“No one argues the fact that you can fight, but Caine is right. He is new to this, and he needs to command his mind, to possess it completely.” Malachi took a step toward Natalya. “And you, my child, are a distraction. Probably a pleasant one, but a distraction regardless.”
Natalya eyes narrowed. “I am an equal. Just because I am a woman...”
“That is not the reason we are telling you to flee, Natalya. You should know me better than that. I believe women as equally powerful and capable as men. In some cases, more so. But you are far too important to Caine. He won’t fight at his full potential, if he is worrying about you. Do this for him.”
Natalya shook her head, but Caine sensed she understood. “I don’t like this, but I will do as you wish.”
Caine reached for her, but before he could pull her into his arms, a howl cut through the night. All three turned to look at the door. The hair on the back of Caine’s neck prickled, every sense coming alive.
“Out the back, girl, quickly. Fly like you have never flown before.” Malachi pulled Natalya away, pushing her through a curtained doorway that Caine hadn’t even noticed before.
He watched her go, Malachi propelling her through the curtain. The last look she gave him was so full of anguish—and love—that it almost broke Caine’s heart.
Another howl split the night, closer, as Malachi turned back. He hesitated a moment, meeting Caine’s eyes.
“You know what you need to do, boy. Do it, and do it well. You have no second chances.” The old vampire pulled himself to his full height, gathering his robes around him. “I will be here with you, but this is your fight.”
Caine nodded. He forced the image of Natalya from his mind, and focused on the sound of the wolves. In an instant, his mind was flooded with images of them, coming up the mountain, slipping between trees. Their eyes were yellow, lips pulled back from fangs. They were on the hunt, and he was their prey.
GABRIEL LAY ON THE ground, his blood-encrusted eyes cracked open just enough to be able to see a sprinkling of stars peeking through the forest canopy. Dimly, he could hear the snarls and cries of battle, and his heart sank heavily—he had failed. During the time he had bought himself by backtracking and looping around, he had been unable to formulate any plan that would assure Natalya’s safety. Here he was, covering the forest floor with his blood, while Caine was probably fighting valiantly to save her from Willem, and the pack.
All he’d managed to do in the last hour, was roll over so his face wasn’t planted in his own blood. Lying in one’s own blood was bad enough; dying in it was inconceivable. He might be incapable of moving, but that did
n’t mean he needed drown in his own blood.
Not when there was something he could do to help.
Closing his eyes, he called to mind all those he’d known who’d been cast out, who’d been driven away from the Seethe. Those like him, like Caine, those Mirella had deemed worthless. Those who hadn’t possessed something the Seethe Mistress had coveted.
Their faces rose up, and then he felt the connection, and knew he had their minds in his control. He called to them, all of them. Called for help, something he never thought he’d ask for, beg for. But now he did, with all the strength he could muster.
It took everything left in him to reach out to them. He faltered, grew weak, and the connection was broken, the faces receding into darkness. He heard their voices fading away, and he struggled to hear their words. Then he relaxed and smiled. It was as it should be. His mind swirled into darkness, but he was rewarded with one last ray of light. He saw her, standing in a sunlit meadow, smiling at him. Her hair shimmered in the sun, as fine as silk. She wore a white dress, and held a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked for her that morning. Giselle, his wife, on the day they’d wed.
They’d been married less than a season, but Giselle was already with child. It was the happiest time Gabriel could remember. They’d whisper at night, making plans for the future, for their unborn child. Gabriel would lay with his ear to her still-flat stomach, imagining he could hear his child speaking to him. He’d fall asleep listening, waking in the morning with his ear still pressed to Giselle’s body.
It had been an ordinary day that had slipped into night. She’d asked him to fetch water for her; she’d felt unwell and had forgotten. He’d taken the bucket and left, kissing her forehead, happy to do so for her.
