by Isis Rushdan
“Drake’s gift will only induce him to tell us the truth and serve as a lie detector. We still need to persuade him to talk.”
“You’re going to torture him, then kill him. Where’s the line, Cyrus?”
He bristled at his mate’s human sensibilities. “When it comes to keeping you alive and safe, there is no line. Now, go upstairs.”
Her chest rose at the order.
“Please,” he added to soften his last words.
Biting her lip, she hesitated. He didn’t want her to think of him as a tyrant, but he wasn’t going to let her stay under any circumstances.
A scream erupted from the back cell. Just like Abbadon not to waste any time.
“If you’re doing this for us, for me,” she said, “I should know the details of what’s involved. Even if it’s ugly, I can handle it.”
He heaved a sigh and hoisted her over his shoulder. “You do know what’s involved, but you don’t need to see it.” He carried her up the stairs as she slapped his buttocks and wriggled like a snake, driving his burning need for her body into a raging inferno of lust. He dumped her in the hallway and slammed the door to the security room. She pounded on the door, demanding he open it. “You’re not to let her downstairs,” he said to Micah.
On his way back to the holding cell, he clenched his hands into fists, straining to squelch the heat of his desire. He could still smell her. The scent invading him, setting his skin aflame, every nerve ending sizzled. At the bottom of the stairs, he leaned against the wall and struggled to gain his composure.
The scout hollered. Pushing off the wall, he headed down the corridor toward the cell. After a few bloody minutes, his mind would be clear.
Serenity curled up on the chaise in her room and stared out the window. Cyrus was right, she did want it all—safety, security, her business, the environs of New York City, thrilling sex, and a lifetime with her soul mate, all on her terms, no compromise required.
She’d known from the beginning having him would come at a price, but she’d been unprepared for the magnitude of the cost. Overwhelmed was more like it.
Everything happened so damn fast without giving her a chance to catch up.
Life apart from him would be an unbearable hell she could not endure. And life with him would be fraught with endless peril until the soul of the Fallen was made whole, a child born, putting an end to the curse. Death would just keep coming for them until then, but together they could make it. Regardless the sacrifice or toll to be paid, Cyrus was worth it.
She just had to show him she had the fortitude and resilience to handle whatever might happen and the strength to make sacrifices.
Facing the scout and her mortality had been just what she needed to conquer her fear of it. Perhaps it’d be the same with motherhood. Dive in and meet the challenge head on.
Ravenous hunger for Cyrus twisted inside her, knotting tighter. Oh the sweet ache. Molten rivulets of desire pumped through every vein. The need to couple with him blazed in her mind, sweeping through her body straight down to her womb.
All she had to do was give in to her desire—her love—again and again. She didn’t want to be a mother, but she wanted to give him all she had to offer, to have a part of him growing inside of her. She couldn’t deny her urgent yearning to join with him, connected in every way, and feel him spill his seed. Even the thought of it now made her flesh burn.
She only needed to do one thing.
Surrender to love.
Early morning light filtered through the stained glass window on the landing of the stairs. Cyrus climbed the steps to his room, drained from the interrogation. The scout had not easily broken, only cracking after hours of agonizing torture. His resistance had been impressive considering how little he actually knew.
As he passed his kabashem’s door, heat flared in his loins, but he pressed on to his room for a cold shower. He locked his door and ensured the other passage between their rooms was sealed tight. Stripping off his clothes, he let them hit the floor, leaving a trail behind him.
His pool of energy poured into his mate’s and a blast wave of primal heat slammed into him. He stopped, staring at his bed. A lump under the covers stirred, moving. He crept around to the side of the four-poster bed.
Chocolate curls cascaded over the pillow. Tawny arms poked out from the sheet as she moaned, turning over into the middle of the bed. Damn her.
He could wake her and kick her out, but she’d only protest and he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Wiping his brow with the heel of his palm, he considered leaving, but it was his room. He wasn’t about to slink away and hide from her. This was his room, his bed, and he was strong enough to resist her. He got under the covers, staying close to the edge and far from her tantalizing warmth.
Plenty of room for both of them. Not like this was some twin size bed where he had to be pressed up against her silky soft body. He gripped the sheet, his whole body tight as a fist. He just needed to relax, let the fatigue hit him and he’d fall asleep in no time.
Serenity’s head twitched as she whimpered, tossing in her sleep. As if she knew that he was there, she rolled toward him, but stopped inches from touching him, flat on her back and fully covered. Thank goodness. Not that he couldn’t handle it, but he didn’t need the aggravation after the day he’d had.
Her arm flopped out to the side, the back of her hand landing on his stomach, oh so close to his groin. Wicked desire skyrocketed through him, exploding in every cell of his body.
He pushed her hand off of him. Her head turned as if she might wake and her fingers skimmed his leg, sending crippling shivers of need through him. She rolled onto her side, her arm staking claim to him as she drew closer until her heavenly body pressed into his.
The feel of her warmth felt so good. No harm in snuggling with her until he drifted asleep. He lifted his arm and tucked her smoldering body in close while staring at the ceiling. She nuzzled into him, curls spilling over him, her cheek pressed against his chest.
He buried his face in her fragrant hair, inhaling the heady perfume. Her lush rosy scent, mixed with mimosa had deepened, growing earthier, spicier, peaking to this ripe, rich, rousing fragrance. He drank in the smell of her. Yearning seized him. Her time of esuratus wouldn’t last much longer. It’d be so easy to claim her right now, seal their fate, keep her with him, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—take her like this.
Her head twisted and turned while she slept. Her hand slid to his pelvis as her leg glided over his thigh. She moaned and rocked her hips.
“Cyrus.” His name left her lips in the shadow of a whisper.
She was dreaming. Even in her dreams she wanted him, the need searing her subconscious. The biological urge to copulate must be compelling her to satisfy her body.
Rubbing her moist sex against his leg, she mewled as if begging for relief. His erection already thick and long pulsed. Oh how he wanted her.
His hand slid from her shoulder, along the side of her soft breast to her waist, hooking on her svelte hip. His other staked claim to the shapely thigh pressed against him, his fingers kneading her tender flesh. He brought her closer, clamping her to his side, supporting her as she bucked and writhed, striving to bring her some satisfaction. His swollen cock was engorged with such fierce need it hurt. Curled around him, shuddering, she purred in orgasm.
Every muscle tensed till he shook, straining not to ravage her, praying he didn’t burst.
She tossed in her sleep again, whispering his name. Need whipped him, urging him to take her. Desire clawed through his muscles, tightening in his groin…aching pressure shifted to throbbing pain. Sheer agony.
Heart thudding, he jumped out of the bed, unable to maintain his restraint a moment longer. He stumbled to the window and took deep breaths. A cold shower would soothe him, but he’d have to move, pass the bed, and get close to her heat. If he so much as looked at her again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
The sun inched higher, the landscape changed under the v
ariations of shadow and light. His suffering hadn’t eased. Her sweet smell filled his pores. He could taste her in his mouth. She yawned in the bed, rustling the sheets.
Egg yolk light coated the room by the time she padded over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her fingers stroked his chest as the silk of her robe caressed his back, setting his spine on fire. Rigid as stone, he could barely breathe, strangling from desperate yearning.
“What did you find out from the scout?” she asked.
Her safety. Her happiness. Her welfare. He needed to focus on this to stay in control.
“He didn’t know why or how Sekhem’s Triumvirate suspected we might be together. They were sent to conduct surveillance. If any of the scouts confirmed I’d found my mate, they were directed to only take action if an opportunity to eliminate one of us presented itself. When they spotted you, the two battle-guard warriors used the scouts as bait to separate our warriors and leave you vulnerable.”
She tightened her grip on him, her desire coiling around him, hooking into him.
“They didn’t get a chance to report back to Sekhem that we’re together,” he said. “But all of the teams have to report in by the new moon.”
“What happens if they don’t?” she asked.
He broke free of her grip and walked away. “They’ll send more battle-guard. I have to leave Valhalla before the new moon in nine days. Don’t worry. Sekhem doesn’t know for certain about you and they don’t know about your tattoo shop. I’ll have the situation with the mercenaries resolved by then. Even if I have to take down all of Gallacom to make it happen.”
“Cyrus—”
“And I’ll leave warriors behind to watch over you, to make sure you’re safe. You’ll never even know they’re there.”
“Cyrus, there will always be something, some new danger, some new threat—”
He spun around to face her. “I can give you your life back. I can fix this. I know you have every reason to doubt it, but I can keep you safe.”
“My life is with you.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous for us to stay together unless we go to Herut. And the pressure for redemption would be unimaginable. You have no idea what you’d be subjected to, the lengths they would go to—”
“Cyrus, I can’t go back to a life without you.” She placed her hands on his chest. “My soul and body longed for you every day, before I even met you. To be cast out into the wilderness without you would be worse than death.”
“I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”
“I’m choosing you. I’m choosing this crazy life with you. Death has haunted me since I lost my father. Seeing Cassian struck down terrified me, but when I faced that warrior from Sekhem, I fought to stay alive so that I could get back to you. Without you, nothing else matters. The chance to touch you, to love you is worth risking a hundred deaths.”
She took his hand and tugged him toward the bed. Two steps and he stopped.
“It’d be best if we didn’t couple until you decided what type of contraception you’d—”
Rising on her tiptoes, she planted her mouth on his, silencing him with a kiss. “I’m working my way through all this. Being a mother still frightens me, but loving you, making love with you, creating a life that’s a little of you and little of me doesn’t, if that makes sense. I want to share everything with you, give you all I have to offer. I want to marry you, be sealed officially as mates. Let’s do it here under the gazebo before we leave. I don’t want to be your consort. I want to be your uxora.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”
“I never thought it possible to feel so much love. To carry your joy and your pain as my own is the true gift, not my ingenium. For as long as your soul exists, in this world or the next, I’ll love you. I’m ready to take this great, scary, beautiful, thrilling leap with you, regardless of where we might land.” Her fingers curled around his hands as she led him to the bed.
She sat him down and knelt in between his legs. Her nails ran down his hips to his legs as she kissed up his inner thighs. Her hair brushed him, tickling, teasing.
Hard as steel with an erection, he longed for release. She took him into her warm mouth, loving him with licks and kisses, suckling him.
Groaning, he strained not to come. His fingers dug into the silky bedspread as his head tipped back. His muscles spasmed, taut from restraint. He seized her by the waist, drawing her up before him, and embraced her, licking her navel. She leaned forward to meet his lips, and her sweet tongue slid into his mouth, plundering him, conquering him with each stroke.
Her essence permeated his flesh down to the marrow of his bones, possessing him.
She let her robe fall to the floor and straddled him, throwing her legs around his hips. Settling down gently, she took him inside her hot, wet sheath. She was so tight he throbbed, ready to spill.
He thrust up inside of her, drilling her as deeply as he could. His fingers bit into her buttocks, driving her down. A throaty moan of satisfaction rolled from her mouth. She swiveled her hips, riding him, squeezing him, urging him to relief.
Streamers of blue-white light swirled around them. Their bodies locked together, swooning in harmony. They moved and breathed as one.
All barriers dissolved as electric threads stretched beyond their energy stream, connecting the very core of their beings. Deepening to incandescent cords, spreading like radiant flames until no separation existed, they melded as one. The edge where her body, her anima, her soul began and his ended slipped away into nothing.
Pleasure swelled, rippling through them, surging and cresting as they came in unison.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Serenity hung her wedding dress in the closet, radiating pure joy. Talus had helped her pick it out. Not a big, white marshmallow kind of dress—it was a perfect gown of pale gold that came down below her knees, strapless in a lightweight material. Talus had found a gorgeous shawl with intricate embroidery of flowers in yellow, rose, emerald and burgundy to go with it.
They had seven more days until the new moon, but had decided to wed in four.
Refusing to worry or fret about the unknown, she went downstairs to find Cyrus. He sat in the great room with ankle propped on his knee, barking some kind of orders at Abbadon.
Mrs. Carter ambushed her in the foyer. “If I’m going to bake a wedding cake, it’d be wise for you try some samples,” Mrs. Carter said, in a hushed tone. “Just don’t mention it to Abbadon. I think the cake should be a surprise for him.”
“Whatever you make will be fine,” Serenity insisted.
“It’s been so long since I’ve baked a decent dessert. I already have some cupcakes for you to try. Go sit while I get them. Cyrus is in there waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Serenity said, crossing the threshold into the room.
Cyrus extended his hand, reaching out for her as he looked at Abbadon. “I don’t care how you do it. Just find her. I want Lysandra dead before we leave.”
Abbadon nodded on his way out.
Serenity sat on Cyrus’s lap and draped her arm around his neck.
“Mrs. Carter has had me sequestered in here and won’t stop whispering about cake until you decide what you want,” he said.
“Don’t you mean until we decide what we want?” she asked with a smile.
“Of course I do,” he said.
As she nestled close, he undid her top button and kissed each breast.
Mrs. Carter hurried inside the room, carrying a tray of cupcakes and two forks. She kicked the doors closed behind her as if worried she might be spotted with the contraband.
“This is the first time I’ve made any kind of dessert in this house, so I need you to be honest,” she said, setting down the tray of frosted cupcakes.
“That’s not true,” Cyrus corrected. “You made an apple pie once for Cassian and Talus.”
Mrs. Carter pressed a palm to her cheek, and her gaze shifted down, as
if she were thinking. Seconds later, her face brightened and she laughed. “Oh my, you’re right. They ate the whole thing out of the pan while it was still warm and it was after that Abbadon put the kibosh on sugar. Looking at you now, it feels like yesterday. But I’m sure later, when I go look in the mirror, I’ll remember how long ago it really was.” She smiled.
“You should remind Abbadon it’s time for your bonus check,” he said lightly.
“I’d prefer to know your youthful secret,” she said honestly, but in a playful tone. “I could sure use a sip from that fountain of youth you’re drinking out of.” She touched her wrinkled face.
“Diet and exercise. That’s why we stay away from sugar.”
“Time even marched across Jack LaLanne’s face,” she replied, with a devilish smile.
“Don’t forget to ask Abbadon for your bonus.”
“Sweet boy, you’re too good to me,” Mrs. Carter said, backing up to the door.
“No, you’re too good to us.”
Mrs. Carter smiled and left, waving. Serenity picked up a fork and looked down at the cupcakes with glee. He caressed her thighs and desire simmered in their stream.
“Mrs. Carter doesn’t know what we are?”
“Not exactly, but she knows we’re different. Then again, she’s different. Not like most of the factotums who have worked for us for generations.”
“What kind of a bonus check will she get?”
“The usual twenty-five grand.”
“That’s some kind of a bonus. Does she get one every year?”
“Yes, except for the year she found out Cassian was a healer.”
“What happened?”
“He healed her cancer. When we tried to give her the bonus check that year, she refused to accept it.”
“I miss him. I wish he could be here to see us get married.”
“I miss him too.” He rubbed her back. “Please eat some cake so Mrs. Carter will stop pestering me about it.”
Abbadon knocked on the door. All color had drained from his face and he appeared unnerved. What could possibly rattle a boulder like him? Certainly not the sight of cake.
