Protector of the Flame

by Isis Rushdan

  Prove her love for Cyrus by not taking him from House Herut.

  The particulars on exactly how to accomplish that feat were still fuzzy, but she’d do anything to spare her husband the agony of being torn from his House.

  The pull of her energy stream guided her footsteps to Cyrus before she spotted him.

  He rested languidly in a chair, long legs extended with ankles crossed, and sipped a glass of red wine. Lush dark waves of hair brushed his chiseled cheeks. He was the perfect picture of tranquility, except for the stone-hard expression on his face. Brow furrowed, lips tight, eyes cold.

  The shadow looming had spread over her husband.

  As she sauntered up behind Cyrus, the pulsating waves of their energy streams melded into one. Smiling, she curled an arm around his neck and kissed his cheek.

  Insatiable need pumped in her blood and fluttered through her pores. The hunger for him had been there from the start, right along with the inexorable connection that drew her to him. She’d swear it was only growing, deepening, if that were even possible.

  Her fingers glided through his silken hair. The front had grown a couple of inches and would hit his chin in another month or two.

  “I was thinking of trimming it,” he said in a distant whisper, as if only part of him were with her.

  “Don’t. I like it long.” She bit his earlobe, demanding full attention.

  He leaned his head back onto her shoulder, turning his face up. Her heart stilled and for a second she was breathless. No human would ever have such ferocious beauty. She stroked his strong jawline as their mouths met. A slow burn ignited in her veins, heating her all the way to the sweet spot between her thighs. She couldn’t wait to be in Morocco, stargazing in his arms, delighting in his sublime body until ecstasy so excruciating effaced everything else.

  Warmth pooled in her belly, the ache of desire rippled down her spine.

  He was a dangerous pleasure, a delicious addiction, the greatest love she’d ever know. And she couldn’t get enough of him. Even though being with him could cost her life.

  That was the price of being kabashem, literal halves of one soul. Or at least the price of being Blessed soul mates.

  With a groan he broke the kiss, and then she sensed it.

  Someone approached. She knew the vibrations of the Kindred stream drawing closer. Abbadon walked past them on his way into the house.

  Cyrus didn’t glance in the direction of his old friend. Instead, he looked out across the vast lawn toward the lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. The muscles in his neck and back grew taut beneath her touch.

  “You’re not allowed to shave on our honeymoon,” Serenity said, wanting to erase his worries. This should be the happiest day of their lives, free of all stress.

  “I thought you preferred my face smooth.” He smiled, but there was no joy in his voice.

  The unnerving whisper of distance between them echoed.

  “I also enjoy watching the stubble grow out. You can shave when we get to House Herut.”

  Her heart yearned to go to House Aten, the hub of the three immortals and Kindred magic in Iceland, where secrets to her past were buried, not to Herut in the Himalayas. She shut her eyes, slamming the door on such thoughts. One week of safety and normalcy, and then she would keep her end of the deal with the Creator by going to House Herut and to Cyrus’s people. There would be another way to find out what really happened to her parents.

  Spero came up to them, his demeanor all business. “With the expedited timeline, Abbadon could use assistance closing down the estate. I’d like to leave someone behind to help him.”

  Cyrus glanced up at the bright blue sky speckled with clouds. “If Abbadon wants help, he’ll have to ask me. I suggest he not dally. We leave within the hour.” He took a swig of wine. “Before we go, I want you to get rid of those glodems.”

  Everyone’s gaze swept the patio and lawn where more bewitched statues from the immortal, Seshata, had been placed by her guards.

  “What would you like me to do with them?” Spero asked.

  “It makes no difference to me. Throw them in the lake for all I care.”

  Spero gave a nod of understanding. Then he directed a couple of the vadeletori out onto the lawn toward one of the statues. Serenity tightened her embrace on Cyrus, rubbing her hand across their shared birthmark below his heart. The identical mark on her neck tingled. “Are you not speaking to Abbadon or is he not speaking to you?”

  “In a few minutes, he’ll speak to me.” The damn unflinching confidence made him sound so sexy.

  “Will you let someone from the team stay behind?”

  “He’ll have Talus to help him. I can’t spare the others. They need to accompany us.”

  The danger hunting them was real. She’d already tasted the bitter sting of Sekhem and crazed mercenaries on a mission to render her barren.

  She clutched her stomach over the scars of her gunshot wounds. She’d come so close to dying, to losing him, but he found her in the darkness and tore through the mercs holding her captive. “Are you sure it’s safe to go to Morocco?”

  “You deserve a proper honeymoon.” He stroked her forearm, enticing her to relax. For all of his unyielding strength and uncompromising power he was capable of such sweet tenderness, and it was that rare dichotomy she loved most. “We’ll be in a different place every night and the vadeletori with us are as good as battle-guard. House Sekhem may send warriors, but by the time they know where to look, we’ll be safe within the confines of House Herut.”

  She didn’t dare ask how the odds would shift against them if Sekhem sent the deadliest weapon in their arsenal, Paladins.

  Cyrus tilted his head back and kissed her lips, gripping the nape of her neck. A dark, fierce emotion lurked in the passion of his mouth. “Go change.” Today there’d be no fighting between them, but she refused to be ordered around. “You have an entire team under your command and one day all of House Herut will follow you. I’ll always be your wife, but never your subject.”

  “Marriage should come with some perks.”

  At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “And it does, but you’ll have to wait for the honeymoon to find out what kind. I’m going to shower and change. Then I’ll be ready to go.” She kissed his temple, pulled herself away from him and went inside.

  In the hallway on the second floor headed to her room, she ran into Talus.

  “I was coming to see if you needed help with anything before you and Cyrus leave.”

  The affection radiating from Talus still boggled Serenity’s mind. Their journey to friendship had been bumpy at best. Losing Talus’s brother, Cassian, had changed everything. It warmed Serenity to finally look upon Cyrus’s remaining ward as a sister. “I’m all packed. I just need to change.”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  Serenity shrugged. “I guess jeans and a shirt.”

  “Cyrus always travels in a suit.”

  “Oh,” she said, entering her room. Being the chosen one marked to give birth to the redeemer was hardly reason to give up comfy denim and rubber soles, but as the kabashem and wife of Cyrus, a formidable leader destined to rule one of the Great Houses, perhaps it was time to step up the wardrobe a notch.

  “I’ll bring your bags down for you.” Talus followed her inside.

  Serenity slowed her pace, troubled by a lingering question. “How do you feel about leaving Cassian here?”

  Short auburn hair hid pale green eyes as Talus lowered her head. “He would’ve preferred to be buried here, not at Herut.”

  “We’ll come back eventually.”

  “Once Cyrus accepts his call to serve Herut we’ll be tied down there. The Council members only leave for short periods of time.”

  The thought of never knowing when she could return to New York almost made the loss of everything too much to bear. Serenity sucked back tears. A life with Cyrus was worth any price, and for now she had the next seven days to look forward to.
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  She opened her walk-in closet and scanned the meager things left hanging. Her gaze focused on an emerald cashmere sweater dress with short sleeves. It had a matching sweater coat that fell to the calves. Lightweight and soft, it was perfect for travel. She tossed the outfit onto the bed, eager to begin her week-long honeymoon, indulging in exotic food, once-in-a-lifetime sightseeing, and hours of sweaty sex, using her husband’s rugged body.

  The bedroom door burst open. Cyrus rushed in, eyes wide almost crazed, raven hair tousled. “Take off the necklace from the immortal witch.” His voice had a hard, frightening edge.

  “Why?” She reached for her neck. When she thought she had the chain, it slipped between her fingers.

  A horrified gasp clipped the quiet tension of the room as Talus jumped backward, tripping on the sofa. Serenity’s heart stuttered. The necklace slid through her fingers again.

  A grim expression wrenched Cyrus’s face. Jagged bolts of terror ripped through their merged energy stream.

  “What’s wrong?” She swallowed the acrid taste of panic filling her mouth.

  Cyrus clasped her shoulders. “We tried to remove the glodems.” He spoke steadily, drawing out the words when she simply needed him to spit it out. “None of us can lift or break them. They won’t budge.”

  “What does that have to do with me or the necklace?” She grasped for the chain once more, her fingers desperately searching for it.

  “Serenity,” he said in a tone so controlled strain leaked through, “when you touch the necklace…it crawls into your skin and becomes part of your flesh.”

  One glance at the petrified look on Talus’s face confirmed the impossible words to be true.

  Her blood curdled. She broke free from Cyrus and raced to the bathroom. Her pulse hammered in her head. Her thoughts spun into a terrifying tangle.

  In the mirror, she could see the gold chain and the amulet, Aset’s colorful wings cradling a stone wrapped in golden thread. The gift from the immortal rested against her breastbone, warm on her skin as any other piece of jewelry would.

  Slowly, she reached for the chain. A harsh shiver took hold as her fingers drew closer, eyes locked on the charm.

  An inch from the necklace her hand trembled. She skimmed the amulet with a fingertip, temples pounding, holding her breath. As she went to hook a finger on the chain, the necklace wormed into her skin—a slithering gold reptile burying itself inside of her. The wings of the pendant flapped wildly, then hooked into her chest and the center stone melded with her sternum.

  Goose bumps swept fierce across her body and intestines knotted into a ball. Screaming, she smashed the mirror with both fists.

  She scratched at her neck, struggling to find the chain.

  Cyrus grabbed her in a bear hug and hauled her from the bathroom.

  “I have to get it off!” She kicked the air, thrashing in his arms. “Help me get it off!”

  “Calm down.”

  She’d barely heard him in the haze of madness swamping her mind. She reached for her neck, but her arms were trapped in his iron grip.

  “Let me go!” She kicked Cyrus’s legs with her heels, but he tightened his lock on her.

  “We’ll find a way to get it off,” he said in her ear. “Calm yourself.”

  Taking deep breaths, she uncoiled her tense body and fought to gain her bearings. His grip loosened, arms falling to his sides.

  Once free, she spun away, clawing at her throat and chest, ignoring the fiery pain. She scratched in a frenzy to find the vile, bewitched necklace. Drawing blood, she finally had the chain in moist fingers, and then it was gone.

  “No, no, no, no…”

  She dug into her skin, raking with her nails, searching for the cursed thing. It had to be ripped out. Now.

  A metallic vein slithered through her fingers and burrowed deeper.

  Guttural cries of disgust tore from her mouth. She had to remove it, to get the diabolical necklace off.

  Even if it meant her flesh would come out with it.

  Chapter Two

  Ragged breaths scraped past Serenity’s lips. Warm blood dripped from her fingers. Cyrus’s words resonated somewhere in the distance, a whisper in the whir of her head.

  “Help me. Please.” Blistering pain flared as she continued to dig at her chest. If she could hold on to the insidious chain for just a second, she could rip it off.

  Cyrus seized her by the arms, the grip so tight she gasped, and shook her hard, forcing the breath from her lungs. “I don’t know how to get it off!”

  It was the first time he’d raised his voice outside of training. The deep sound was a lash to her mind and she stilled.

  “I swear we’ll find a way.” The fiery promise blazed in his anguished eyes.

  Her gaze fell to her bloody hands. Tears blurred her vision. Raw skin stung.

  He pressed a hot palm to her cheek. “Try not to think about it.”

  How could she think of anything else?

  Abbadon treaded into the room, assessing the situation in his usual collected manner.

  “I need to call the Triumvirate. They may know something that could help,” Cyrus said to her, then looked at Talus. “Go find Carin.”

  The one healer on the team they were lucky to have after losing Cassian, but unless Carin could get the necklace off, the pain of minor wounds mattered little.

  Talus stared at Serenity—eyes narrowed to slits, body rigid and face pale—as if waiting for the necklace to come alive again.

  “Carin. Now.”

  The horrified daze melted and Talus dashed from the room.

  “I’ll only be gone a few minutes. It’ll be all right.”

  Serenity wanted to nod to reassure him that at the very least she’d keep it together, but could only blink. He pulled her into the muscled plane of his chest and stroked the back of her head. Long, thick fingers massaged her scalp.

  Tears slipped from her eyes. Shuddering, she sank into his powerful embrace, too afraid to move for fear her hands would go for the necklace.

  When he peeled away to leave, her entire being sagged from the loss of his touch.

  Her thoughts darted back to how the reptilian chain wormed into her flesh, writhing beneath the surface, the way the amulet dug into her skin, bewitched wings flapping. The hair on her gooseflesh arms rose. She went to touch the cursed necklace, but Abbadon caught her hands.

  Face stoic, he guided her to sit on the sofa and knelt. “The energy of the collective is an equalizer. It seeks to stabilize and support.”

  Carin rushed in and placed her hands on Serenity’s shoulders from behind the sofa.

  “Carin is no ordinary healer,” Abbadon said. “After you were kidnapped and injured in the warehouse, she healed your body and your blockage in connecting to us. Since then you’ve been drawing energy from the collective. We all feel you, but the connection is…unbalanced. You’re taking without giving in return.”

  If this was Abbadon’s way of helping, she could do without it. Adding to her mounting troubles with another problem was exactly what she didn’t need.

  “When we connect to the collective,” Abbadon continued, “the flow is fluid, reciprocal and beyond our control, but brings a degree of tranquility. You are the only Kindred I’ve heard of who can connect to the collective, feed from everyone and not give back. In this time of distress, you pull even more. Bring balance to the flow, equanimity will follow, your mind will settle.”

  “Isn’t connecting a voluntary thing for you?”

  “We have a choice in whether or not to connect, but once we’ve tapped into the collective flow, sharing isn’t optional. The exchange is automatic and we’re not able to stop the release of our energy, but you are unique.”

  Abbadon was the only one who could make unique sound like a horrible disease.

  “Does Cyrus know I’m taking energy from the rest of you?”

  A curt nod confirmed what she already knew in her heart.

  “He should have told me.�
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  “Cyrus thought he was protecting you.” Abbadon drilled her with his gaze. “But you’re capable of protecting yourself. Aren’t you?”

  It was more of a challenge than a question.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Let us help you.” He gestured to the warriors gathered in the doorway, encouraging them to enter. “Close your eyes,” Abbadon instructed. “Picture yourself connected to us.”

  Serenity shut her eyes and took deep breaths, falling back on the long training sessions now ingrained.

  “See our energy. Feel it. Reach out to me and then the others.”

  She sensed Abbadon’s vibrations, the tangible pulse of his energy stream, but was careful not to drain him as she’d done once before to Talus, nearly killing her.

  “Now focus on accepting the gift from Seshata.”

  She reached for her neck, but he held her hands and put them back in her lap.

  “The necklace is a part of you for the moment. Has there ever been something about yourself you didn’t like but learned to live with?”

  She nodded.

  The birthmark on the back of her neck, the one identical to Cyrus’s. After her father died, she wanted to get rid of the mark. It reminded her of the happiness her mother had stolen by leaving. Her childhood, what really happened to her parents, was a jumble of lies and deceptive, fragmented images. For twenty-five years she wanted to wipe away the mark which had always felt more like a brand until Cyrus found her.

  “You’re going to release your negative emotions about the necklace. A small detail you have to live with for a while. When you look at the necklace, when you think about it, you will be calm.”

  She cleared her mind.

  “We are all here for one another, to support, to sustain, to bring harmony.”

  Tendrils of her energy stream grazed the vibrating fields of the other warriors nearby. With Cyrus waves of his life force crashed into hers until they meddled into one. The vibrations of the others were mere ripples, hundreds of undulating ripples skimming her energy stream. Comfort and warmth trickled through her, brightening her energy field.