Despite having come so far and accomplished so much, sometimes her memories returned to the rape. Although she was emotionally past the trauma, there was another element she had never told anyone about. The rape happened after her father and Caraculla concocted a plan to end her career by getting her pregnant. It was her father Gavin, with all of his meddling treachery that convinced her lover Caranculla to help him under the guise of saving her from herself. While in her mother’s clinic for an appointment, Gavin had managed to steal a potent ovulation drug that almost guaranteed she’d get pregnant by Caraculla. Caraculla had followed through on injecting her but never completed the act. Instead he confessed. Furious, Gypsy had stormed out of their home and gone to see her mother. Harlan assured her all would be fine. She re-administered the five year contraceptive injection to Gypsy but warned her not to have sex for at least forty-eight hours to allow the drug to take effect.
Gypsy was still enraged and didn’t want to return home so she made a fateful decision to go to the arena and train. That was when her nemesis, a senior class warrior named Drake Trolis invited her to spar with him. Her cheeks and scalp burned with the horrific memory. I was so stupid then. I’m not so sure I am that much smarter now. And so, for reasons she still didn’t understand, she agreed. It was a predicable disaster. That night at the deserted training arena the spar ended with Drake viciously beating and raping her. To this day she was still amazed he hadn’t killed her. It was that assault that ended up extinguishing his life less than a year later. The only thing Gypsy cared about at the time was that she hadn’t gotten pregnant. But deep down inside she knew she should have. Gypsy tried not to obsess, but if there was a chance in hell for her to get with child it would have been then. Yet she hadn’t conceived. Elated at the time, she thought herself the luckiest girl alive. Now, years later, all it did was paint a bleak future. I should’ve gotten pregnant. He came inside me only a few hours after my mom gave me the new shot. It was nowhere near forty-eight.
Absorbed in her doubts, her father’s voice filled her head. His deep, crisp English accent, so different from her mother’s English, made him sound like a cultured gentleman but hid the savage heart of a fearsome warlord. She could still hear him asking the fateful question. Do you want to be a warrior or a mother? Gypsy had been pissed off at the question, almost storming out of his office. Now as she aged she began to wonder why she couldn’t be both. He was a warrior and a father. Lots of males were. Why did she have to choose one thing over the other?
Gypsy closed her eyes against the emotional burn and hung her head to relieve some of the tension in her neck. She never thought she’d think this but she missed Gavin so much it was causing her physical pain. Could Dragon really bring him back or had everyone seen the last of the warring legend?
A sob crept into her throat but she captured it before it made any noise. Hearing the crunching of boots on gravel she forced her eyes to open and look up. Kharon and Missy strolled over, apparently all was safe. No monsters left tonight. The little girl’s eyes were hard and her mouth was tight with concern. There were times she felt like Missy was the big sister.
Missy studied her. “Are you sleepy, Gypsy?” Her voice was emotionless and clinical.
“No, I’m okay sweetheart. Why don’t you let Kharon put you to bed? I’m going to need a lot of help tending to the hyperia in the morning so you need to be well rested.”
Missy was not to be placated. “When do you sleep?”
Gypsy gave her a dismissive grin. “Soon. Desmond will come out in shortly and then I’ll sleep.”
“Will Daddy be back soon?”
Gypsy lifted her head up and down in a stiff nod. She tried to think of something to say but it came out all wrong. “Mmmm, yep. Of course. Yes, he will. Now, Missy, please go on inside to sleep. It’s too cold for you and way too late to be out here. Go on with Kharon, now. Please.”
“Okay,” Missy said as she stood on her tip toes to kiss Gypsy on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
Gypsy gave her little sister a long hug, then watched her shuffle off and disappear into the darkness of the building. Missy stopped to wait for Kharon but he nodded his head in a signal for her to go on in without him. His piercing eyes read Gypsy’s face. When his connection pushed into her mind she didn’t resist. Sometimes it was much easier to let him explore her emotions himself than try and explain them. Then he quietly withdrew from her thoughts and reached out to stroke her hair.
“I’ll get Missy settled in for the night and come back to sit with you. If I’m lucky she’ll nod off before I finish telling her the story I promised.”
* * * *
Kharon returned a half hour later. Gypsy was thankful for Kharon’s natural ability with her little sister. Since he’d sired more than a few children of his own, it seemed to come easily to him, while Gypsy barely knew how to say hello. She loved Missy, but sometimes she didn’t know if she was behaving appropriately with a child her age.
Though Gavin, in his eight hundred years, had sired more children than Gypsy had birthdays, she’d been an only child growing up in her home. Her parents had wanted to have more children but none came. Her mother was disappointed but accepting. Who would have guessed it was Gavin’s persistent back problems that was the root of their infertility? It became clear enough when only a few months after her father’s spine replacement, her mother became hugely pregnant with Gypsy’s baby sister. Two and half months later—the punishing gestation for an AEssyrian pregnancy being three months—Missy was born during emergency surgery. The birth was a miracle enough, especially after Harlan had been stabbed in the abdomen by one of Megolyth’s jealous slaves. Even now a dark pink scar marked her sister’s arm where the blade had cut the baby in utero.
Her husband came over and sat next to her. Gypsy stroked his thickly, muscled thigh affectionately. “So what kind of story did she get?” Gypsy smiled thoughtfully, knowing Missy’s story requests were never simple. When Gypsy was a child, she used to drag legendary war stories from her father, Gavin. He told the best, most riveting stories and she never tired of hearing them. But perhaps her sister Missy’s idea of relaxation was hearing about a princess in a castle, or true love at first denied and then rekindled. Gypsy really had no idea.
Kharon smiled but it was thinner, more guarded. “I probably shouldn’t say. You might get mad.”
Now he had peaked her curiosity. Gypsy turned so she could look him in the eye. “What kind of child’s story could make me mad?”
Kharon lowered his heavy brow “Well,” he said placing his huge hand over hears, “She asked me to tell her a story about you being bad.”
“Bad?” What the hell kind of weirdness is this? “What does that mean?”
The side of his mouth lifted in a sadistic grin. “Bad.”
She laughed despite being annoyed by how much he was enjoying this. “Uh...okay. So what did you tell her that would have been appropriate for a young girl? I mean, seeing as that I’ve done lots of what you could call bad stuff with you.”
Kharon rubbed his chin thoughtfully like an old sage contemplating the mysteries of the universe. “Well, at first I tried to convince her you hadn’t done anything bad. Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying that. Then she pointed out that everyone does something bad, even really good people. So she demanded to know at least one thing that you had done that would be considered bad. I had to give up something or she would have never gone to sleep. So I did.”
Gypsy gave him a puzzled frown. “That is so weird. Okay then, give it up. What did you finally share with her?”
Kharon took his hand from hers and folded his thick arms. The action made his pectorals bulge. He studied her with a humorous sparkle in his eyes. “I told her about the time you took out Nole Prius with the practice meteor hammer.”
Gypsy smiled remembering how satisfying that had been. “Oh yeah, I remember that. Well, you can say whatever you want. That fucker deserved a good thump for everything he did to me. Besides, I d
idn’t exactly hurt him...too much.”
“That may be correct, but you did slam your boot into his side. And then you spit on him while he was still on the ground.”
Gypsy smirked and gave him a dismissive shrug. “I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Oh, but there’s more.”
Her smirk melted. “More? That was it. What more is there?”
“Then Missy’s inquisition shifted to me.”
Things were really getting interesting. “Really? Go on.”
Kharon’s face grew more serious. “From the story she knew I was the class instructor. So she asked me what I did about it.”
Gypsy couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “And you told her...?”
“I told her the truth. I told her I whipped you just as I would have any other cadet.”
Now Gypsy was the one enjoying this little visit down memory lane. “So what did she think of that?”
Kharon looked past her thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, “She asked me if it made me sad.”
Gypsy rubbed her eyes and let her head flop forward. Now she was sorry for bringing up all this old stuff might be troubling for him. “That’s pretty heavy. And you said?”
“Once more I told her the truth. I explained that it made me sad but that I had to treat you like everyone else or no one would ever respect you.”
“Wow, that was kind of a complicated answer for a little kid.”
“Yes, but it seemed to work. I think she would have been disappointed in me if I’d given her a simple answer. She’s a complicated, very intelligent child. I want her to know she can trust me. In any event, she was done with stories and dismissed me with a goodnight.”
Gypsy’s palms had begun to sweat. She rubbed them on her pants.
The Primal Fever was coming. As it always did, it built and engulfed her and there was nothing she wanted to do to stop it. Usually it came in a slow build, but because Kharon was so close, its rise was faster. She closed her eyes for a moment and savored the feeling. “And that’s where your bedtime story ended?” Gypsy opened her eyes and locked her gaze onto his. “You forgot about afterward. You remember when I came to your office later and fucked the life out of you on top of your desk.” She left out the part where one of his wives had practically walked in on them.
Kharon was so close she could feel his body heat rise by two degrees. His nostrils widened, reading her scent in the air. He wrapped one arm around her and leaned in close to nuzzle her neck. Gypsy suddenly felt a little lost and self-conscious as old insecurities reminded her she wasn’t worthy of a man like Kharon. She didn’t look at him, keeping her head down instead. But he wouldn’t allow her to withdraw. He placed gentle, seductive kisses along her cheek and temple. The roughness of his skin gave her a slight chill. The sensation of his lips on her flesh was a scorching wind after a swim in the sea, the harsh friction of salt still stuck to her skin. The reaction was a mixture of abrasive comfort and sweet bliss.
Gypsy fought to keep her breathing steady as so many emotions swirled through her head. By the gods, she had forgotten how overwhelming the Primal Fever could be. Since it only flared up once or twice a year and only with Kharon she had limited experience dealing with it. Gypsy still struggled without success for control. Kharon, on the other hand, had seemed to adapt easily. It didn’t make any sense why he didn’t fight it more.
Kharon was a ferocious warlord and natural leader. Everything in his mind was about order and control. This consuming force that drew them together should have him trying to fight his way free by tooth and claw, yet he surrendered and allowed it to absorb him.
Despite his acceptance, there were some things he still liked to be in control of. The main thing he controlled was their sex life. When they first started seeing each other she thought it would bother her but it never did. Turns out she liked a strong male who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. Her first husband, Caraculla, had often wanted her to run the show. As a Razorback, he was reared to please women and Gypsy naturally filled the void of strong leader.
That was never the case with Kharon. He called all the shots in the bedroom. After Caraculla, it was an interesting change. Kharon could be democratic when it came to differences they had regarding her training, career and cohabitation but when it came to intimacy she left him in command. It was a concession she granted because she loved him so very much. His control was also incredibly sexy.
His hot breath caressed her ear. When he spoke it was in a smooth, deep whisper. “Too much is troubling you. When I penetrate your thoughts the magnitude of your distress disturbs me. I understand you’re concerned about your parents especially with all that’s happened. But you must also trust we will do whatever is necessary.”
Kharon took her hand and kissed her palm as he traced his lips up to her wrist. Her sex moistened and throbbed softly—eager, hungry for what was to come. “I know,” she said in a voice so soft it was almost a sigh.
Gypsy almost asked a question but then became awash in insecurity. Instead of asking she remained silent. It was too frightening to ask the question aloud, because the wrong response would devastate her yet again.
Her father Gavin had once confided in her that sometimes he resented his feelings for Harlan. He said he loved Gypsy’s mother so much, it left him with a vulnerability he couldn’t close off or destroy. He felt like a penned stag that she could gut and filet at will. Now in this place, all these years later, she understood. Kharon was the only male whose rejection could destroy her completely. And a small part of her hated him for it. She worried her bottom lip to keep her words harnessed and stared into the gray and black ash of the fire pit.
Kharon placed more tiny kisses along her cheekbone. “Please don’t ever be afraid to tell me what’s upsetting you.”
Gypsy took a slow, deep breath. She needed to get this out in the open. “I’m afraid I am a disappointment to you as a wife.” The words were expelled in a guarded, sorrowful rush.
She felt him smile against her skin. “And I am afraid I’m a disappointment to you as a husband.”
Gypsy smiled and shook her head. “Why would you think that? You’re the one who brings all the strength and stability to this marriage. You’re the loving, rational one. You always accept me and my many faults. Me? I’m just a fucking mess.”
“Don’t ever say that! You are a smart, loving and brave young woman who is on the cusp of something incredible. Something I never thought to ever see. I am centuries older than you.”
“Meaning?”
“I have made my mistakes, learned from them, and changed accordingly. You cannot compare yourself to me. You need to realize it is okay for you to act your age. You are allowed to make youthful mistakes. You are not a mess and I am proud and honored to be your husband.”
“But what if I never want children or if I do, we try and I can’t have them? My genetics are pretty blended and neither of my parents are pure AEssyrian. I know you told me it doesn’t matter, but sometimes I don’t believe you.”
Kharon tenderly kissed her cheek and let his lips caress their way to her jaw. His temple braids brushed her neck, tickling it. Kharon moved his mouth back up to her ear. Her nipples stiffened and gooseflesh rose all over her arms. Whatever he was up to, it was working. “Is that what is really bothering you? You’re worried about children? That’s the Primal Fever talking.”
Gypsy sniffled and kept her head down. She said nothing.
Kharon continued. “Let me ask you this, what if we could have a biological child and he had Gavin’s temperament? Despite your obvious differences you, your sister, and Desmond all have some traits that undeniably come from Gavin and his father Titan. All of you are highly aggressive even if you each express it differently. Missy has a somber, combative strength that is invisible to most because she is packaged as an adorable, female child. Her beauty will be her greatest camouflage and may the gods help everyone when she learns to use it. Between you and me, she will be
far more problematic to Gavin growing up than you, Desmond or Northe ever were.
“Your brother Desmond for example, has a lot of ferocity but he keeps it buried, releasing it only in combat. As a result, he internalizes everything and it is slowly killing him. If you and I had a child who was a strong-willed, dominant male, he would always be in competition with you. Like the others in this family, he would need to prove that he was better than his mother, the woman.”
“Why would he need to compete with me? Why not you?”
Kharon’s laugh came out in a rich baritone. He slid his hand up the back of her shirt and caressed her back. “Our son would still be growing up in a society dominated by males. If he entered the academy, he would be compelled to outperform all of his classmates because he was a Theron and the son of the first AEssyrian female warrior. If he didn’t die in an arena fight, he may even end up matched against you. The nobility do like their sick little games and your sponsor is one of the worst. Our son would have to prove he was his own man and not riding the tails of your accomplishments. It would be Gavin’s fate all over again, only this time played out by you.”
Frowning she tried to work this scenario out in her head. “I didn’t follow the path of any of Gavin’s sons. I never sought his permission or approval and I wouldn’t expect that from my son. He could travel his own road. Though you say there are similarities, even you have to admit that there are vastly more differences between my father and me.”
“Fair enough. Let’s explore the other side of the gender issue? What if you had a daughter and she was nothing like you? Maybe she would be soft and feminine and the two of you wouldn’t connect. Not to mention all of the warriors falling all over themselves to take her in AEssyrian marriage so they could entwine their bloodlines with that of the legendary Therons.”
Devoured Innocence Page 2
