by Scott, Amber
“What does that have to do with my mom?”
“More than a hundred years ago, the line of prophets died out—.”
“But you’re immortal.”
“It’s just a term to delineate the realms. Think of Bible stories of angels coming to mankind, mating with them. It wasn’t angels. And mortals living among people who live much longer, who can do far more with their minds and bodies, put too many in jeopardy. A prophet, usually a messenger, contributed his or her piece at whatever point it came. The visions didn’t necessarily last a lifetime either. You could get a vision once in a thousand years of living and that would be enough to contribute. The barrier between realms is thinning, becoming unstable. The last prophet predicted a collapse, which would mean immortals and mortals would co-exist after thousands of years of being apart.”
Sadie shook her head, confused.
“My generation has never seen the Book, never known of a direct prophet. Factions like the Illeautians no longer believe the two realms will one day become one. Instead, they want both realms. They want humankind erased before it destroys the planet.”
She shivered. He retrieved another blanket for her, wanting to wrap his wings around her instead. Night would fall soon and the temperatures would plummet. He would have his excuse to touch her soon enough.
“Crusoe might believe your mother’s journals are a prophet’s.”
Sadie’s frown returned, deeper. “My mother’s journals are filled with nonsensical babble. End of days Armageddon. Angels and demons.”
Elijah slowly nodded. She’d reinforced what he’d said. “Crusoe will need the next in line to understand the subtext and code. Traditionally, the truth of the kingdom only comes through the line.”
“The what?” Her voice pitched.
“The kingdom.” For a fleeting moment, he saw her perfect human ignorant bliss, the last trappings of innocence, and envied it. What had it been like to live so simply and freely as a human? “The kingdom is what the Book of Sorrows refers to as the two living realms joining, becoming one. It is the totality of everything and filters its secrets through one person.”
Sadie’s hands flew up. “Okay. Stop there. You know what? I don’t want to know. Back to baby steps, alright? Let’s focus on Jen. On getting her back. How do I do that?”
Eventually, she would need to know all of it, but she was right. What mattered now was forming a strategy. “The important thing to realize is that Crusoe believes your mother’s journals to be prophecies and may lead him to finding the Book.” Now, for the ugly part. “The Illeautians believe the skin of energy that separates each dimension is meant to be dissolved, particularly that between the mortal and immortal world. They want to force the joining before humans can destroy both realms by destroying the planet.”
“That doesn’t sound smart.” Sadie shifted, tossing her hair past her shoulder. The nylon shell of the blanket protested noisily. The scent of the fibers reached him, mingling with her hair’s vanilla scent. “Wouldn’t that make everything collapse into chaos?” she asked.
“They believe in the prophecy of the collapse and only need proof to succeed in influencing immortal takeover of the human realm. Finding changelings will only support their theory. They’ll say evolution is evidence of it being time. Even if they don’t annihilate humankind, those who don’t evolve will be exploited to the point of extinction. There is good call for the separation of the realms. Not all immortals resist the temptation humans present. Blood use. Energy sucking. Worse.”
“What if they’re right? What if the journals contain proof?”
“I don’t know.” He wanted to move her to his lap and nuzzle his face into her hair. “I previously thought finding the originals would give me enough collateral to get Crusoe back. There was the off chance the texts could actually disprove the entire myth, too. I thought he’d been seduced by the cult. Now I see he might in fact be the leader.” All those centuries of hunting, Crusoe had lost his faith in their purpose, to protect humans from criminal immortals. “Too many incidents than I can count are adding up in my head. We hunted realm trespassers, we had connections to High Council. I trusted him with my life.”
“You blame yourself?” The dimming light cast shadows over her face, emphasizing her cheekbones. Her lips. They were wet. “How could you have known?”
“Perhaps, you’re right. What matters now is what he believes and how we can use that to our advantage.”
“What about Holly? Is she an Illeautian, too?”
His gut cramped in revulsion over Holly’s betrayal. “I seem to trust the wrong people.” Or was it, love the wrong people? “I have to assume she is and has been in Crusoe’s camp the entire time. She led me to you. She misled me to Monica.”
“But Holly claimed she….” Sadie’s cheeks flushed. “She told me she loves you.”
“Trust me in this. What she feels for me is nothing near love. Love doesn’t need to conquer, to possess. Love—real love—liberates. I don’t know how our bond could so easily be infected with so many lies, but I refuse to credit love for violation.”
Her cheeks only grew redder. Her lips parted but no words came. Elijah cursed himself for revealing so much. His betrayal’s hurt leaked out and he couldn’t staunch the flow. His entire being craved the soft solace she’d given him before. Right or wrong, he wanted her in his arms, to inhale her sweet scent, to sink into her sweeter oblivion.
He needed her to liberate him.
He couldn’t deny it another second. He’d fallen for her. Utterly and without reservation, he wanted her to be his. The ramifications. The all encompassing, life-altering meaning had no room to scare him, though, because his emotions rapidly morphed into primal, possessive need.
“What next then?” she asked quietly, her gaze intent upon his face.
Could she see the need building within his every cell? Biting down, he tamped his passion down. His body wanted what his mind held at bay. So much that he couldn’t think straight. “What next?”
“How do we get Jen back?” A curious smile tugged her cheeks. “What’s wrong with you?”
Elijah straightened and coughed. “I think we should give him what he wants.” Christ! He could hardly mince the words out of his mouth. He didn’t care about Crusoe’s wants. His own consumed him.
“You mean exchange me for Jen? Isn’t that what you’ve been against this whole time?”
“I mean, translate the journals. Once Jen is safely away from Crusoe.”
“But I don’t think they mean anything, Elijah.”
Dear God, his name on her lips! Those lips. Couldn’t she stop wetting them? “I don’t either. But he does. I’ll teach you what to say.” He stood, paced like a caged animal, his instincts enflamed to their limit. “Sadie,” he said, unsure why he said it at all. She would only say—
“Yes?” she stood as well, likely reacting to his agitation, the change in him. She stepped closer, dragging the train of down-filled nylon with her. “Please, Elijah, tell me. What is it?”
He growled, angry. He had to get himself under control. Wrong time, wrong place. “It’s nothing.” But his words hung thick and heavy between them. “Nothing at all. You should get some rest. We’ll begin once you rest.”
Silence settled between them and the urge to go to her pressed down on his chest. He fought it, avoided looking at her, yet palpably sensed her nearness. Her melodic hum beckoned. Her warm scent caressed. The temperature outside fell by degrees but he grew hotter, needier.
Sadie made a nest of the many sleeping bags. Elijah didn’t trust himself to help. Once she slept, he told himself, he would be able to quiet the thrumming in his veins. Then he would rest as well. He would rein in his emotions and his need until they were safe.
Pacing wouldn’t improve matters. He squatted, waiting to hear her breathing even out, her hum to soften. The wind outside whirred, bending the tent sides. He could see his breath. The icy air prickled over his skin and scalp. He couldn’t
say how many hours had passed when Sadie stirred.
“Elijah?”
He winced against the ripple her voice sent cascading up his back. “Yes?” This was torture.
“I’m cold.”
“I’ll get more—.” His voice strained.
“No,” she interrupted. “I need heat.”
He dropped his head into his hands. “More space heaters then.”
Her nest rustled and his treasonous imagination envisioned her standing, naked, the curves of her perfect form a beacon in the storm raging through him. He shut his eyes against it. He breathed in icy gulps of air. Heat flashed through him anyway and when her hands covered his, pulled them away from his head, he could stand no more.
Her soulful eyes met his. A groan escaped him. He held her hands and pulled her close, drew her up against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth against her warm, salty skin. “I can’t control it.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Sadie, I—.”
“Shh. Elijah, please, I know what I’m doing.”
His lips found hers. Desire swept over him, fierce as any wind breaking over against any cliff. The sounds of the night outside drowned in the roar in his body. Sadie melded to him, laced her hands into his hair. He lifted her and took her to the nest of downy fabric. She wasn’t naked as he’d imagined, but within seconds he made her so, then joined her.
When had it happened that she’d become so important to him? No. Not merely important. Necessary. Vital. Like air.
Elijah positioned above her, cradling her face in his hands. Overwhelmed, he opened his eyes. Hers stared back, brimming with emotion. She was far braver than him. She revealed her desire in one penetrating look. The mask his devotion hid behind faltered, but only for the briefest second.
If Sadie saw what lay beneath his guarded surface, it didn’t show. She merely arched up against him, inviting his body to join hers. Elijah succumbed, awestruck and reckless. Her nipples hardened under his thumbs. His erection, nestled between her thighs, hugged to her wet heat, swelled and throbbed. He tamped down the lure of abandoning himself swiftly into her. She deserved better.
He licked and suckled her skin from the sensitive spot on her neck, over her throat and down her collarbone. Her skin tasted like powdered sugar. He attended to each rigid nipple, nipping and teasing with his tongue and teeth. His groin tingled and tightened with each gasp, each delicious moan. “Sadie,” he said, again and again as though somehow the one word was enough to explain the riot inside him. “Sadie.”
“Yes,” she said, encouraging him with her body and hands. “Yes, Elijah.”
Every touch was heaven and hell. So unbearably sweet, yet not quite enough. His muscles bunched in readiness. Her opening slickened with more moisture. Her hips wriggled against him, teasing away every inch of his control.
“Please,” she said and kissed his throat, grazed her teeth along his jaw. “I want you. I want you inside of me. I’ll die if I don’t feel you inside of me.”
A single pulse of climax thrust from his engorged tip. He couldn’t wait any longer. A tiny part of him recognized he played with fire. At any moment Crusoe could find them, Lyric could message for him. Giving in risked their lives but he had no physical choice.
Like a drowning man breaking the surface of a dark pool, his life felt dependent on joining his body to hers, joining his soul to hers. Somewhere inside, guilt whispered to him. He had not asked her permission. Sadie could not know what their joining meant in this moment. But he did. Selfishly, he didn’t stop and most of him didn’t care. He couldn’t risk her human heart changing, denying him forever to love her.
She claimed to love him.
Now, she would become his, inexorably. For all of time. Her wishes would become his, even if her wish were to never see him again. His body reveled in the total vulnerability to come. In it lay a unique freedom as well. Sadie moaned and writhed beneath him. Elijah kissed her and stroked in and out of her. Each thrust built the flames, stoking them higher and higher. How he lasted, he couldn’t fathom.
All he knew was her. Her voice in ecstasy. Her body. Her hum. Her eyes, clouded with desire, locking to his. She stilled under him. Her eyes closed. “No. Sadie, look at me.” She did and as her climax spasmed around him again and again, his own clenched tight, pouring cum into her.
His groan rumbled in his chest. Sadie’s eyes widened in wonder.
The air around them grew dense and warm. Through each pulse, their energy co-mingled, binding them forever. The hum that had once been her own distinct vibration changed tone. It gathered and hit a staccato. Elijah breathed out, mesmerized as he watched her blink, intrigued.
Her lips parted. She paused.
The air cleared, yet surreal traces lingered.
Sadie closed her mouth and cocked one eyebrow up. “Did you feel that?”
He smiled, but before he could explain, a vision of Crusoe flashed into his mind. His hand on a throat, a sonic pulse firing from his hold and into whomever he held. Blood spattered walls. The stench of violence. The scene wobbled, then went black.
“What? What is it?”
Her face came back into focus. “Lyric.” He eased his body from hers. “Crusoe is back.”
~ ~ ~
Chapter Twenty-seven
One moment Elijah had transcended Sadie into some sort of magical sphere, the next it dissolved. Crusoe was back? Sadie sat up. Elijah didn’t seem to hear her. “Where is he?” She pulled at the blankets. “What happened?”
Elijah stood so swiftly he almost fell over. He tossed her clothes at her, tugging his own back on. “We have to leave, Sadie.”
She struggled into her pants and shirt. Her heartbeat slammed in her chest. Where would they go? How long would they run before she was forced to face Crusoe? The image of him, his black wings spread wide above her, so different compared to Elijah’s blue ones, filled her thoughts.
The seeker’s golden hair and pale eyes had glowed with such an ethereal quality against the dark backdrop. Angelic and menacing. A shiver chilled her spine. Crusoe, coming for her. But Elijah had said Lyric’s name.
Elijah shut down each space heater to save battery life. His movements were jerky and rushed. She’d never seen him move without smooth stealth. Seeing him now unnerved her. Panic edged into her stomach. Their lovemaking seemed a distant past.
With a final glance around the darkened tent, he took her hand. Wordlessly, she stepped into his embrace and shut her eyes. The snowy cliffside and tent siphoned from her vision. Accustomed to the severe motion, she knew the moment they’d arrived back at the Spanish Colonial mansion’s foyer. Home. Dawn broke over the mountains and the first rays of sunlight seeped into the room. The metallic scent of blood met her nostrils. She covered her face against the sharp invasion.
“Don’t leave my side. Do you understand, Sadie?”
Blood stained the floor in an inky red. Spatters reddened the walls and high ceiling. It was everywhere. The sight gagged her with fear. “My God, what happened here? Whose blood…?” Her mind flashed with that annoyingly familiar sense she’d been here before. But it wasn’t that she’d been here. She’d dreamed it.
Elijah stopped and took her by the shoulders. “He could be here. How much did Lyric teach you on cloaking?”
Not much at all. But if Crusoe was here for her and had already caused so much bloodshed, Sadie needed Elijah gone from her. She refused to put him or anyone else in danger. “I can cloak.”
Elijah gave her an odd look. “I need you to cloak. As well as you can. And swear to me you’ll stay put. I just need to make sure we’re alone.”
Sadie nodded. Lying had never been so easy. As the dreams fragments pieced together, she knew what would come, what she had to do. Elijah disappeared down the corridor.
Sadie found the trail of blood and followed it up the stairs. What had Lyric called it? The treasure room? The sanctuary? Her steps slowed as she approached the door, memories of the woode
n chest sitting open. Of Crusoe, coming for her. Elijah safe. Alive.
Blood pooled under the closed door. Sadie twisted the knob. It unlatched. She held her breath and pushed the door open. The path of blood abruptly ended. Sunlight bathed the chest in the center of the room just like in the dream. She crossed the threshold, braced for him to come. If she had stayed downstairs, all the blood would become Elijah’s.
The popping sound behind her sent a chill over her spine.
Sadie turned around. Crusoe wound her hair into his fist. He snapped her to his chest. She gasped. But the sound evaporated along with the room and walls and floor as Crusoe snatched her away.
If she lived to explain her actions, would Elijah forgive her?
Another pop sounded. Their arrival. He released her. She stumbled and spun to face her captor. He’d brought her to her childhood home, she realized. The walls wore a different paint color and the carpeting was now wood laminate. But she knew this place.
She recognized the cedar and crayon smell, the sounds filtering in from the schoolyard across the street. A bird chirped obstreperously from a low branch in the front yard’s single tree. Lemon, she remembered, with fragrant blossoms every spring. And though it clearly belonged to a boy with far too many toys now, this was her old bedroom.
“Don’t be frightened,” Crusoe said. “I won’t hurt you.”
She snorted despite her watery belly. “Yeah, right.”
“What you saw wasn’t real. Nothing more than animal blood. I needed Elijah to bring you back. So we could negotiate a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I freed your cousin, who, by the way, came willingly and has no idea she was being held in ransom for you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Something in his words rang true, though.
He smiled so openly her breath snagged in her throat. “I can see why you’ve captivated him so well. But again, I must assure you Jennifer is safe at home.” He pushed a tendril past her shoulder. “Aside from a minor heartbreak that couldn’t be helped, she is unharmed.”
