Cyr kissed her gently on the forehead again. His mouth lingering as he whispered against her skin. “I don’t know how it happened, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment but I know it in my gut, I love you.”
Did he love her?
Her grandmother would call this moment a grand gesture. One she wasn’t supposed to squander and let go. But the words were stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t expect you to say it back, but know that I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you to stay here with me. Live with me, wake up next to me every morning and go to bed with me every night. Maybe one day learn to love me back.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about all of that.”
“How long do you think it will be before you do know?”
She looked up at him then, his eyes were so tired. She didn’t know if she should tell him he looked like shit, but she could see the worry in the tightness of his brow. He was seriously fucked up over this.
“I don’t know, maybe a couple more walks in the garden. More time hanging out in the tree.”
“Hanging out in the tree?”
“Yeah, my parents never let me have pets. I’ve always wanted a big cat. And my grandmother always said cats were the guardians. What better way to get to know each other?”
“Now you’re being a smartass.”
“Maybe,” Onessa said, trying to hide the smile on her face.
“Let’s take this one step at a time. I don’t want to rush into anything too serious yet.”
“Too late,” he murmured. “You’re mine, I’m yours. Can’t get any more serious than that, not to mention, you’re carrying my unborn cubs.”
“Oh, all right, I guess I love you, too?”
“You guess?” He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “I tell her I love her, and she guesses she loves me,” he complained.
Adjusting so she was half on top of him, Onessa tugged on his chin until he gazed down at her with a serious look. “I do love you, even though you can be an asshole. But I still love you. So, there’s that, and if I weren’t going to be giving birth to these girls of yours, I’d probably still love you. You’re brilliant. You’re excellent in the kitchen…and the sack. You came to my rescue not once but twice. That is enough proof. In case you missed the tattoo on my back, that’s you, up in the tree lounging. I dreamt of you. So, yeah, Cyriaque Ravenueax. You’re mine, and I’m yours.
THIRTEEN
Two months later.
THIS NIGHT WAS SPECIAL. Special because although they’d done a mating ceremony. The one being performed now was to introduce Onessa not only to the leap but also into Cyr’s life on a permanent basis. If she chose him. She couldn’t shift, but Delia promised they’d worked out the details to the ceremony. All she had to do was show up.
It was dark out, and the moon was full. The air smelled of cherry blossoms and lilies. Everyone in the leap was there, and Cyr waited patiently by a tree close to the pond.
“Tonight, we gather together to honor the newest member of the leap, Onessa Sol. She comes to us not only as herself but also as a mother in the making. She carries the blood of our ancestors inside her womb.” Delia looked to Cyr and nodded. He responded in kind, and when he turned, he came face-to-face with a vision.
Onessa wore a black linen dress that fell to her feet. Two slits rose to the top of her hips, showcasing her curves, as she stood a few feet away from him.
“Onessa Sol, do you choose Cyriaque Ravenueax as your mate?”
The custom was for her to shift and approach him and submit herself to him. No words were to be spoken. Only action. Cyr watched with his heart in his eyes, and his breath frozen in place. It was all up to her. He watched for signs of hesitation, but saw none. She put one foot in front of the other and approached. Their gazes clashed for a second before Onessa dropped to her knees and placed her head against his left thigh. With a strong, sure tone, she asked, “Would you share your life with me?”
Overcome with love, Cyr threaded his fingers through her hair. She’d given him her submission. She was his in all ways that counted. The sounds of everyone cheering and yelling were drowned out by the sight of her on her knees. Untangling his fingers from her hair, Cyr dropped down beside her, and they both stared at each other.
“It’s done,” he whispered against her lips, cupping her face in both hands. The kiss started off sweet and slow. They explored one another’s mouths with love bites and soft sweeps of their tongues. “Let’s head inside, there’s a lot more I want to do with you.”
Onessa didn’t respond, she just stood, taking him with her, and they both made it back to the room they now shared.
The sound of Onessa’s whimper as he moved his mouth from between her legs to her stomach was music to his ears. Slowly, he slid his lips along her round belly. Her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, and her taste… Fuck, her taste alone could push him over into paradise. Her fingers were in his hair, and she was tugging him up to kiss him.
“Do you want me, Ness,” he murmured.
“Always,” she breathed, moving her legs to wrap around his waist.
“Then tell me, tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” The moment she said the words, he slid inside. The feel of her walls tightening around him had him gripping her hips tighter as he tried to control his movements. He didn’t want their time to be fast, he wanted slow.
“We’re gonna take this slow, Ness, you gotta stop gripping my cock like that. You’re gonna take it from me.”
Her beautiful eyes opened, and he sucked in a deep breath as she watched him watch her. Onessa’s beguiling, mysterious eyes unglued him every single time she looked his way. He prayed his girls were lucky enough to inherit their mother’s eyes. Eyes that saw right to the heart of him. Her hips jerked beneath his as he pushed deeper into her heat.
“Oh God, Cyr, I need you to go faster,” she whimpered.
“No, Ness, slow.” He growled rising on his forearms. He watched as his dick glided in and out of her opening. He was covered in her juices, and he knew later when he was done, she’d have no problem wrapping her mouth around his length and sucking him clean. Fuck, he was one lucky bastard. But he’d been right: living with his Ness wasn’t easy. She battled him every step of the way, and he loved her more and more for it every day. Knowing he had a fight on his hands when it came to her made him feel like a man deserving of a second chance.
“Faster, baby, I’m almost there,” she moaned, turning her head to the side and biting his forearm. He loved when she marked his skin.
“Slow, baby, I want to savor you.”
She cried out in pleasure and began meeting him thrust for thrust while clamping down on him. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up, and she knew it. Pumping inside her, Onessa’s heat gripped his cock harder. Fuck.
He felt her hands go to his shoulders as she pulled him down for a kiss. That was all it took to drive him wild. She knew it, she baited him, and this was one of the areas they battled about. Sex. She wasn’t submissive in all things sexual, she was combative. But she also knew how to get what she wanted, and he’d gladly lose the fight to get his reward.
Cyr pumped harder and felt her body come apart beneath him, which triggered his own release. He buried his head in her neck and bit down on her shoulder, marking her with his bite.
“Love you, baby,” she said into his hair.
Cyr lifted his head to look at her, and when he did, she gifted him with a beaming smile.
“Love you, too.”
Things would be okay. They would be okay. He lay half on and half off her and purred his contentment.
“Cyr?”
“Hmmm.”
“I’m looking forward to our life.”
Smiling against her skin, he kissed her neck. He was looking forward to their life together and all the love he planned to fill it with, as well.
* * *
The End
If you liked this
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Tigris is a #1 Bestselling Author of Arctic Bound, book 1 in her Arctic Wolves Series and Give and Take, her Southern Contemporary series, Stories from Beauville. She’s a military brat who's done her fair share of travelling, thanks to her Army father. She's married to the infamous LL and has three amazing boys. She currently resides in Houston and is actively seeking a book-buddy for the end of the world.
SPIRIT AWAKENED
CYNDI FARIA
Spirit Awakened © Copyright 2018 Cyndi Faria
* * *
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
SPIRIT AWAKENED
Whisper Cove’s spirits of the dead walk among the living...
Nurse Faith Cabrillo doesn’t believe in a second chance at true love. But Dr. Jake Mitchell challenges her to risk falling once again. Except is she ready to share the truth behind the mysterious cursed town of Whisper Cove when doing so could get either of them killed?
Jake Mitchell is a neurologist who doesn’t trust what can’t be explained. That is, until he moves to the rumored-to-be-haunted town of Whisper Cove. When Faith awakens Jake's sixth sense that defies science, he's thrown into a world of passion, spirits, and a centuries-old Lovers’ Curse that can never be broken...
ONE
DR. JAKE MITCHELL traversed the basement hospital maze, shaking off the chill that wormed its way down his spine as he passed the morgue. Naturally, he quickened his pace. But, as the new neurosurgeon at Full Sail Medical, he didn’t have time to address legends of the rumor-haunted town of Whisper Cove when he’d been hired to save lives.
Upon rounding the bend, he spotted his superior and strolled toward the peppered haired chief. He tightened his hands on the patient folder that contained information the chief would no doubt ask for. Out of respect, he had to proceed with caution because Jake didn’t believe his request would be approved as the newest doctor.
Chief Luis Vizcaino, a stocky sixty-year-old, jabbed his index finger into his palm repeatedly while the nurse he spoke with stood palming her hips. She pursed her heart-shaped lips, as if she was pissed off.
Captivated by her shimmering blonde hair and her heated blue gaze, she reminded him of a pre-dawn sunrise, and he shuddered with the wave of heat as if he laid on the beach absorbing the afternoon sun. He shoved down his response. He didn’t have time for distractions with the case at hand.
“Chief”—he nodded to the nurse but forced his gaze not to linger. Like him, perhaps she was new to town—“I’d like to talk to you about one of my patients, Tori Dawn.”
“Ah, Jake, just who I was looking for,” said chief, as if Jake held the answer to his dilemma. With a slight hand wave, the chief gestured to the nurse. “I’d like to introduce you to Nurse Cabrillo. Faith will be aiding you in future surgeries.”
Accepting his offered hand, she squeezed, her gentle touch sending a surge of desire to his groin. He dropped her hand, but pocketed the idea that her petite frame wouldn’t crowd his space during delicate open-brain surgery. “Nice to meet you. I look forward to having your support.” In all things… He stifled his thoughts, and shook his head at the thought.
“Welcome, Dr. Mitchell. You have your work cut out for you.”
Sarcasm laced her words, but he went with it, figuring her tone was directed at the chief. “Jake, call me Jake.”
First name basis wasn’t something he threw around, usually. But something about her begged his attention.
Chief cleared his throat. “As Faith and I were discussing…”
He faced his superior to keep from staring at the flush rising in her cheeks, squared his stance, and meet chief’s copper-tinged eyes. “Tori has come to the hospital twice in one week. She’s complaining about headaches, blurred vision, and dizziness. I’ve already run an MRI. Extensive blood work. Everything came back normal, so I sent her home. I’d like to get your approval to perform exploratory surgery.”
Adjusting his lab coat, the chief grumbled. “We don’t perform exploratory surgery at Full Sail Medical on a hunch, Dr. Mitchell.”
He fought against disappointment, even though he’d expected no less. Maybe chief was right. Jake didn’t trust his instincts. Not since… He force the disastrous memory away. But every nerve in his body urged him to fight the chief, fight for Tori. For a split second, he wondered what Faith was fighting for. He handed the folder to the chief. “This isn’t a hunch. Proving or disproving what the MRI doesn’t show can only be accomplished through surgery.”
As if the chief had heard such requests previously, he ran a slow hand over his face. Then he flipped through several pages, pausing to examine the MRI results. “At this time, you’ve shown no evidence surgery is warranted. Run more tests. Maybe send her to an ENT.”
“An ear, nose, and throat specialist sent her to me.” Jake jutted his chin and lowered his brows in defiance. “But there’s more.”
“You have more proof?” Chief stilled his fingers on the page.
He leaned in, his shoulders bridging the gap between the chief and Faith. Her floral scent filled his lungs and he peered at her for an instant. “For the past week, five other patients have complained of similar symptoms—some are reporting they’re hearing voices—with inconclusive test results, and this could indicate a potential health crisis.”
The chief shuffled his weight from one foot to another. “As far as we know, these other patients are doing fine. They haven’t returned, correct?”
“They’re not doing fine. They’re hearing voices.” As soon as he repeated the words, an eerie feeling buzzed through him. He fought to silence his jittery nerves. Intuition had no place in his world when patients depended on his skills led by science. Still, something wasn’t right here. He squirmed in his scrubs and yanked the collar forward. “True. No patients have returned, but—”
“Tori is the mayor’s daughter.” Faith placed her hand on Jake’s upper arm before swiftly retracting. “She’s more outspoken. Persistent.”
Glancing at where Faith had touched his arm, he then met her consuming gaze. The woman was unbelievably attractive in that California blonde-haired, blue-eyed way, although her skin lacked the sun-kissed tan from living in a coastal town that seemed to have more foggy days than sunny ones. But her keen blue eyes reminded him of his aunt, who’d raised him…the dear aunt he’d watched die on the operating table.
He swallowed past the knot forming in his throat. Losing a patient always hurt, but the loss of his beloved family member tore him apart, even after two years, a condition he prayed didn’t register with the chief. “Regardless of Tori’s title, I’m obligated to keep searching for answers. This hospital is obligated.”
Chief scoffed, as if Jake was way out of line. “Jake, you’re a man of facts. So am I. Until you have evidence of a problem, let this go.”
For a moment, he was tempted to listen to his superior, but then the hairs at the back of his neck rose—the same creep
iness he felt when passing the basement morgue, and a chill settled around him. “I need your approval. My findings could potentially guide me to discover what’s happening in this town.”
The chief held up a finger in warning. “Don’t be an alarmist, Dr. Mitchell. Tori hasn’t returned. Until she seeks additional medical help, let’s hope her vague symptoms dissipate organically.”
He shoved both hands in his pockets. His first month at the hospital and, more than anything, he wanted to earn his superior’s approval and pass probation in order to make Whisper Cove his home. How else would he someday transition from the demands of a surgeon to offering his skills inside a community clinic, like the one he’d been treated at as a kid? “You hired me for my expertise, not intuition. If she returns, I’ll run more tests.”
“Good.” The chief gave a firm nod.
Shadows and Stars Page 63
