Protector of the Flame

by Isis Rushdan

  She touched her small breasts and stomach, which was a little less taut than it used to be, and shrank at the possible reason his desire declined. She pulled the sheet up to cover her body. “This isn’t the first time you’ve rejected me.”

  “I’m not rejecting you.” His tone was gentle. “I said in the morning.”

  “Maybe.” She glared at his back. “Did you ever push her hand away?”

  A cold wall of detachment dropped between them and he went rigid as a log.

  She often wondered about his time with Lysandra, his nights with the gorgeous female whose body was built for pleasure. Feminine yet strong with luscious curves and an ample bosom to please any man. To please her man. “You were in Panama for twenty-three years. She spent eleven in your bed. Did you ever reject her?”

  “It’s been a long day. Mine may have been more strenuous, but I don’t want to fight.”

  She jerked upright. “You worked with the sentinels all day. The one detail you should’ve been happy to be on. What was so strenuous about it?”

  Exhaling loudly, he rolled onto his back. “After you were done saving the island from one psychotic Kindred,” he said in a tone peppered with acrid sarcasm, “I had to clean up the mess you left behind.”

  “What mess?”

  “No shrines of the dead on this island, my love. Your crystal masterpiece had to be turned into dust and swept out to sea.” He sat straight up and stared at her. “Who do you think was lucky enough to be given the task? That crystal rock you created went two feet below ground. I had a pickaxe and a shovel to remove it by myself.”

  “You’re strong enough to the do the work of twenty men without breaking a sweat.”

  “It’s so easy for you to judge the weight of a task from a cool, airy perch in the library.”

  “You’re jealous?”

  A laugh brittle as glass scraped her ears. “Of what? The fact Neith has made you one of her pets or of the power still not fully in your grasp? Someone faster would’ve killed you.”

  She refused to be sidetracked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?” he snapped, honestly looking confused.

  “Did you ever tell her no? Did you ever push her hand away?”

  “This is insane.” He threw the sheets back and stood. “Is it too much to ask for a modicum of propriety regarding our indelicate pasts? I don’t mention Evan or the sixteen years you spent with him.”

  “Evan was only human. You know it’s not the same. Sex with Evan was like fucking a piece of driftwood in comparison to what it’s like with you.” She jumped out of bed and threw on her tunic to cover herself. “Did you feel her energy moving through you when you made love to her? She was luminous and perfect. You probably couldn’t keep your hands off of her tits.”

  “Lysandra is dead.”

  “But you didn’t kill her. You couldn’t because you loved her too much so you let Abbadon do your dirty work for you.”

  Pale, chest heaving, he stared at her with pitch black eyes.

  “Just because she’s dead and I’ve never spoken of it, doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. You knew all about Evan. We never talked about her, not in this way,” she said, on the verge of tears, her voice cracking.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Disgust rang in his tone.

  “Now there’s something wrong with me? What about you? You’re always in a bad mood and all you want to do is sleep.”

  “That’s because you’re sucking the life out of me!”

  She choked on her heart throbbing in her throat. Her energy stream churned.

  A tangle of poisonous emotion glinted in his eyes. “You have no idea what it’s like for me. I want you all the time. I crave you—now more than ever—but I can’t bear to be around you. You constantly tug on my energy stream. When I kiss you, it’s as if you want to drain my soul dry. And when we make love you draw off of me in such deep gusts I can barely breathe.”

  Trembling, she stared at him while the bitter sting of his words bit deep. Her heart ached as if squeezed in a fist as she listened to the brutal onslaught of his truth.

  “I had sex with Lysandra every night for eleven years.” His eyes flickered blue and back to the color of cold, hard coal. “It was always a pleasure to be around her. I never pushed her hand away and I never told her ‘no’. Is that really what you want to hear?”

  A furious rush of savage anger swamped all sadness, all weakness, all pain. Serenity reined in her energy stream away from him. Her pulsating pool sloshed and clawed in defiance, determined to stay connected. Harnessing her strength, she concentrated on the blinding rage heating her blood and commanded her stream to detach.

  As she reeled in the voracious tentacles suckling him, a sharp pain punched at her stomach causing her to double over. Thrashing as if it were alive, her stream rushed up to her head and surged down to her toes, converging back in her core with such force she gasped.

  Exquisite relief surfaced on his face. Then, his eyes grew wide as he might’ve suspected what she was preparing to do.

  With a deep exhale, she released her energy, focused on venting her frustration as he had done. Instead of a wave or plasma ball, her stream lashed out in a magenta whip, sending him crashing into the wall.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  His body left a dent in the wall as he fell to his knees in concrete rubble. Two drawings sailed to the floor around him.

  She gaped at Cyrus, shocked and queerly satisfied by what she’d done. “I’m sorry,” she uttered, rushing to him.

  He raised a hand, head lowered, urging her to stay away.

  Her energy stream unfurled. A thousand tiny tendrils slithered over him, reconnecting and drawing on his. She ran to the dresser, tugged on clothes and her sneakers. She grabbed an elastic hair tie and glanced at him.

  Cyrus rose slowly, leaning against the smashed wall. He took several deep breaths but didn’t look at her.

  She swallowed hard, uncertain what he would do. He wouldn’t hurt her physically, but she didn’t know if he’d yell, shake her, or spout more venomous words to make her soul cringe.

  “Cyrus?” she said in a whisper.

  Other than putting his hand up again as if he couldn’t bear the sound of her voice, he did nothing, and that was worse than anything else she could imagine.

  She ran from the room, down the hall. When their streams severed, nausea pummeled her. She put her hand to her mouth, fearful she might vomit, and leaned against the railing. Her stream settled and the queasiness dissipated.

  The halls bustled with people. A few stared as she made her way to the lower level. Not meeting anyone’s gaze, she went out through the front doors.

  Running through the garden, she headed for the secluded beach Adriel had shown her. She didn’t stop until she reached the patch of clovers. Catching her breath, she plopped down.

  Her limbs, tight and aching, groaned for a jog. Although flooded with enough energy to run for hours, she didn’t know if her body could keep up with her bubbling pool.

  Dark waves rolled in, slapping against the shore, then receded back out. There used to be an ebb and flow to her connection with Cyrus, reciprocal and nourishing.

  Somewhere on the island, everything had been thrown into chaos. He’d confirmed her worst fear. She was draining him and couldn’t stop. Pressing the edges of her palms into her temple, she realized he’d finally get a decent night of rest if she stayed away.

  How could he feel refreshed or be himself when she lay awake beside him every night, feeding on him, literally sucking the life from him? And he had never complained about it, not once until tonight.

  He’d said things she didn’t need to hear, things that cut down to her soul, making her heart bleed, but she’d antagonized him. She pushed him to his breaking point and once he reached it, she didn’t show the compassion of a loving wife. She’d shown the understanding of a mule by sending him flying into a wall.

  Shaking her head, sh
e stared at the ocean, berating herself.

  Her stream clawed out behind her, stretching upward and back—straining to reach Cyrus. She couldn’t be sure if he was flying or walking based on the direction of the pull. She got up and ran out to the beach.

  Backing up toward the water, she looked around. He flew up from the tree line, his skin shifting from the darkness of the trees to the midnight sky, but he was easy enough to spot from the cream-colored garb.

  She commanded her stream to be still as he floated toward her, but backed away. Her energy pool gushed like a volcano ready to explode. With each breath she did her best to contain it, to prevent it from merging with his.

  “Please stay back!”

  As his feet hit the sand, he shifted to his normal complexion. “I’m not going hurt you.” His voice cracked with incredulity and sadness.

  Twenty feet of sand separated them. Her body shuddered from the strain of controlling her agitated stream. It surged up to her head, down her legs, colliding in her core, over and over, thirsting for him, demanding to be released.

  “I know,” she said, trembling.

  He moved closer. “Forgive me. I was ugly and cruel.”

  “Stay there.” She clutched her stomach. The struggle intensified to the point she feared something inside might snap.

  He hurried toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  As soon as he touched her, all willpower failed and her stream erupted in triumph, connecting to him. He winced but held her.

  “It hurt not to merge with you. I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. “I tried.”

  “I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean it.”

  She gazed up at him. “Yes you did. You were right. I have been draining you. I don’t know why and I can’t make it stop.”

  “That doesn’t excuse the way I spoke to you or the things I said.” He held her by the shoulders. “You told me once that what came before us is dust and ash. Do you remember?”

  Tears filled her eyes and she nodded.

  “You’re my love, my life. If I could change my past to ease your mind, I would. Tell me again that what came before us means nothing, not Evan and not Lysandra.”

  She bit back her tears. “What came before us is dust and ash.” Her gaze fell from his face to the sand. The discontentment between them wasn’t about Lysandra. And although she would never bring it up again, it didn’t solve their current problem.

  “I’m proud of the way you handled yourself earlier with the warrior who had blood rage. I only feared for your safety. Let’s go back to our room.”

  She pulled away. “You should go back.”

  “Not without you.”

  “It’s the only way you’ll rest and wake refreshed.”

  He raised her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And where will you sleep?”

  “I don’t sleep anymore.”

  Concern flooded his face.

  “I lie awake watching you sleep, feeding off you. When I get restless, I sketch.” She often wanted to go to the library to read, but had been too cautious to tempt fate by leaving their bedroom in the middle of the night without him knowing. Surely, the night he awakened early to discover her gone would be the same night Adriel wouldn’t be able to sleep and would wander up to do some reading of his own. Although he’d catch them laughing over something inconsequential in an open space, rather than the private confines of Adriel’s boudoir, it would be misinterpreted as it had been that one day a few weeks ago. She couldn’t risk Adriel’s life over a little light reading.

  “You don’t sleep at all?”

  She shook her head.

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know, weeks. It’s gotten progressively worse.”

  “You should speak to Carin first thing in the morning.”

  “There’s nothing she can do.”

  “She tried to heal you?”

  Not Carin. Adriel. “I can’t be healed.”

  Silence. He understood what she meant in her poorly phrased answer. “Why didn’t you go to Carin?” A flash of anger punched through the words.

  “Adriel’s more powerful, if he can’t heal me, I can’t be healed.” If the most powerful healer of their kind couldn’t help her, she was doomed.

  He rubbed her arms and shoulders. “I can’t leave you out here alone.”

  “There are sentinels all over keeping watch. I won’t be in any danger.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right. I won’t be able to sleep if you’re not in the room.”

  She smiled bleakly. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll sleep too well without me.”

  No dispute from him on that point. “I’d rather have you upstairs with me.”

  “Please. Let’s try it tonight.” She caressed his cheek. “You have bags under your eyes and you’re pale.”

  He stared at her for a long time, searching her face, deliberating. There could only be one thing keeping him from agreeing.

  “You don’t trust me.” She didn’t know if she meant it as a question or a statement.

  “I trust you with my life and my heart. My only concern is for your safety. Besides, the boy knows you’re mine.”

  She laughed. He gave her a queer look, not seeing the humor in his words.

  “Well if that’s the case, can you dispense with the hickeys?”

  He stroked her neck. “I’m sorry about that. Your scent has shifted. You smell earthier, sweeter, more luscious. It’s been driving me nuts…” He stopped talking as if he thought of something important.

  “What is it?”

  “You smelled that way in Morocco…when you were pregnant.”

  She stared at him, not quite sure what he was getting at.

  “I noticed your scent changing after you’d been shot back in Valhalla, but I wasn’t really focused on it. By the time we got to Morocco, I couldn’t get enough of your smell.”

  Her thoughts collided as her gaze drifted to the ocean. “Wouldn’t I know?” Her cycles had never conformed to a human schedule. Quite frankly, she had no idea how she would know, outside of pure female instinct, which she clearly lacked, for a second time.

  “You haven’t been in heat since I worked the laundry detail.”

  “So soon?” They’d just gotten pregnant and lost the child. After everything, their fortune couldn’t suddenly be this good.

  “Our females usually take quite some time to get pregnant once, much less twice, but you must be.”

  All the dots connected. Why the siphoning has been beyond her control. What Adriel must have seen the night he tried to heal her. But why didn’t he tell her she was pregnant when he realized there was nothing wrong with her?

  “I’d say you’re about ten weeks along.” He lifted her into his arms, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. “It’s the only logical explanation for so much.” He set her down.

  “Such as?” she asked flatly, uncertain what to feel.

  “Your cravings and mood swings.”

  Hiking both brows in disbelief, she gawked at him. “My mood swings?”

  “And why I want to rip Adriel’s head off every time I see him.” His tone, both serious and jovial, concerned her. Stroking her face, he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t kill your puppy.”

  “I don’t understand. I wasn’t in esuratus that day in the library when you sent him flying into a wall.”

  “It wasn’t a wall, it was bookcase,” he clarified as if it sounded better. “If I had seen his hands on you while you were in heat, he wouldn’t have gotten up from the floor.”

  “Then why did you hurt him?”

  “Males still get very protective when their females are pregnant. Besides, all puppies have to learn the rules. He needed to understand what’s permissible and what’s not allowed.” Cyrus shrugged. “And he caught me on a bad day.” He wrapped his arm around her and began walking to the main building. “I think I’ve been quite tolerant where he’s concerned, considering the circumst
ances.”

  His forbearance regarding Adriel was one of the kindest acts of love she’d ever known. Rubbing his sleek torso, she put her head against his chest. “You have and I’m grateful.”

  “But the minute he forgets his place and dares to piss where he shouldn’t, I’ll have to roll up a newspaper and teach him another lesson.”

  “I don’t think the A.S.P.C.A. would agree with your training methods.”

  “All dogs respect dominance.”

  Crossing through the field of plumeria, she glanced at him. “This doesn’t change our problem.” She stopped walking. “I’m still draining you.”

  They couldn’t ignore the effect it was having on her mate.

  “I’m happy to nourish you and my unborn child.” His eyes sparkled, but it was too dark to see a shimmer of blue.

  “Well, I’m not happy with what I’m doing to you.”

  “I won’t let you stay out here alone. Let’s go back to the room, let me get some sleep and we’ll discuss it in the morning.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  There was no arguing with the possessive urge driving Cyrus. Serenity stayed tucked under his arm as they walked quietly back to the room, ignoring the stares from the sentinels. She climbed into bed beside him and waited for him to drift asleep. It didn’t take long.

  Putting her running clothes on, she scribbled a note explaining he needed to rest and assured him she would let the sentinels know she was traipsing about so that they could keep an eye out for her.

  Meandering through the garden, she came across Argyle who was on nightshift and explained her inability to sleep and desire to walk.

  “You’re safe to roam wherever you please. I’ll alert the others to your presence, if you believe it will put your mate at ease,” he replied.

  She went down to the long strip of beach on the far side of the olive grove and watched the waves break on the shore.

  The night was endless. The longest she had ever experienced, each minute taking doubly long to pass, the darkness stretching on as if it were eternity.

  With no one to talk to, her thoughts for her only companion, she considered returning to their room, but Cyrus needed to sleep and replenish his stream. He couldn’t do that if she was within two hundred feet of him.