The Seer: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 2

by Brenda Huber

  Carly squeezed him tight and, at last, held still long enough to press her cheek to his. Though his arms felt like wet noodles, he managed to get them around her.

  This…this right here…the woman in his arms was what he’d come back for.

  His mate.

  The love of all his lives.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Carly leaned her elbows on the wrought iron railing. The sultry Mediterranean breeze wafted over her skin. In the distance, sailboats and yachts skimmed through the crystal waters. Birds screeched, wheeling looping circles in the clear, azure skies. Closing her eyes and lifting her head, she drew in the crisp scents, savored the warm sunshine on her skin.

  Twenty-four hours had passed since Niklas’s brush with death. She shuddered, still feeling a little sick to her stomach at the mere thought of how close she’d come to losing him. Close enough to know she didn’t want to spend another second without him in her life, no matter the risk, no matter the consequences. Her love, their love and the connection the two of them shared, was stronger than death.

  He’d survived the battle, but he was still recovering from the worst of his injuries. Slower than was normal, or so Mikhail and the others had stated. Several times and with a great deal of concern. She didn’t care. He was alive, and she intended to spend the rest of her life showing him exactly how much she loved him.

  The rustle of movement behind her caught her attention, and she turned. Niklas stood in the open French doors, smiling, his eyes devouring her.

  “You should be resting,” she scolded.

  He held his arms open, waiting. “I missed you, ma’ilc cho’ckta.”

  “I haven’t been away from your side for more than ten minutes.” Laughing, she moved into his embrace and carefully wrapped her arms around his waist.

  He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek and dropped a soft kiss to her lips. “A lifetime, surely. One minute without you is a minute too long.”

  Carly laced her fingers through the hair curling over his collar. “I’m glad you feel that way. Because you’re never getting rid of me again. I intend to be a thorn in your side for the rest of my days.”

  “The rest of our days,” he corrected. Laughing, he swept her up in his arms, smothering her face with kisses. “And I have every intention of holding you to that promise, sweetheart.”

  Carrying her back inside, Niklas set her on her feet near the bed and drew her in for another long, soul-branding kiss. Concern for him overrode her passion for the moment, however. She’d come too close to losing him. So she pushed carefully at his chest until he let her ease her lips from beneath his.

  “Niklas, you can’t carry me around like that. You’ll reopen your wounds. Let me see…are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, tá’hiri, completely healed.”

  She tsked, convinced he’d reinjured himself despite his assurances otherwise. She pushed the hem of his shirt up. The golden skin on his abdomen still showed the bright red, nearly ten-inch-long slash where a poisonous Animagi horn had cleaved his flesh, but the wound hadn’t reopened. Powerful muscles rippled and flexed as he readjusted his hold on her. And then he vanished his shirt, baring the rest of his magnificent physique to her hungry eyes.

  Unable to resist, she drew her hands over his chest, lightly fingering the dozen or so other wounds he’d sustained, which were also in various states of healing. Satisfied he’d not harmed himself further, she couldn’t resist brushing down the rigid muscles of his stomach. With a knowing smile, Niklas drew her down beside him on the edge of the bed. But when he tried to urge her to lie back, she resisted.

  “If you’re healthy enough for that, then you’re healthy enough for explanations.” She’d agreed to wait until he was out of danger to demand answers for what had transpired after Xander and the others had whisked her to safety. And answers as to what had happened in those life-altering moments between his last breath as a demon and his first breath as…well, as an other. Not quite angel. Not quite human. That same strange category, she’d since learned, that Xander had fallen into when he’d absorbed half his wife’s soul and tied his life force to hers.

  Niklas tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and then slipped his hand into hers. “Fair enough. Let me start at the beginning. Gusion did have a trap set. But you weren’t the only bait. He knew the others would come back for me. So he had backup. Lots of it and…well, it was a hell of a battle. But I don’t want you to worry. Gusion is dead. The last thing I did before that Animagi gored me was to send Gusion to Oblivion. And Ronové…well, he lost his head too. They will never come after you again.

  “I won’t lie to you and tell you this is all over. We still need to stop Stolas and his uprising. And we have to find the rest of the relics. But I want you with me, by my side for whatever comes next.”

  “But how—”

  “Be patient.” He lay a finger against her lips. “Try to be patient. I’ll answer all your questions, at least as best as I can. But while I do, I just”—he slid across the bed, pulling her with him, and lay back, tucking her into his arms—“I just need to hold you.”

  Curling into him, she absorbed his warmth, the feel of his hard muscles wrapped gently around her, the scent of him, spicy masculine musk. She’d thought she’d never feel this again. Tears welled once more. Sniffling, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and tipped her head to peer at him through damp lashes.

  “Okay, where was I?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and smiled at her. “I didn’t die. But I—my consciousness, I guess—returned to Heaven…at least for a few moments.” Her eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath and opened her mouth but he silenced her with a swift kiss. “Please, tá’hiri. Patience.”

  She drew in a deep breath and nodded. But then a thought occurred to her, and she blurted, “What about the bond? The one you forged in your little black magic circle. It is—”

  “The bond is not gone.” His hand slid along her back in a long, consoling stroke. “Not completely. But it has changed. I promise, I will get to it all.”

  Frustrated, she pressed her lips together.

  “I returned to Heaven, in a way, because of you. Because I finally carry true love in my heart.” He squeezed her. “And, because of that love, and because I would continue to do His will here on Earth, I was given a choice.”

  “To stay or to come back,” she guessed.

  “To stay, or to come back. As a warrior of God once more,” he clarified. “A warrior of God, and your mate.”

  Twisting around, she wiggled up until she could lean over him. She couldn’t resist asking, “You had what you wanted, Niklas. You returned to Heaven. How could you give all that up? Why would you come back?”

  “Because the only thing I truly wanted—my only reason for existing—was still here. You’re still here. You, Carly. You are the only thing I want. The only choice I could make was to come back and be with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, loving you, making a family with you, if you’ll have me. Heaven can wait a little while longer,” he reassured her with the smile of a confident believer.

  “You really gave up your immortality for me?” Her voice was little more than a whisper of indignation. Of disbelief and awe.

  “If I had come back a demon, or an angel, it would have made no difference. When you died—whenever that might be, I wouldn’t have been far behind. I refuse to exist in a world without you. Oblivion would be better than that. Be with me, Carly. Share your life with me. Be mine, now and always.”

  She stared at him, silent. Speechless.

  A warrior of God? She could scarcely wrap her brain around it.

  “But—”

  “No buts, sweetheart. I want you with me always. No more fears of dying. No more of these crazy ideas about standing in the way of my redemption. You saved me, Carly. You’re the reason I’
m still here.”

  She nodded.

  He went on to explain that he no longer needed to siphon souls to stay alive, stay strong, and he had retained some pretty wicked abilities. Just as Xander had. However, he could now be wounded, or killed. Just like Xander.

  He’d come back. From Heaven. For her. He was here now, in her arms, and she was too grateful to split hairs. Tears of joy pricked her eyes.

  “Say something, Carly.” A slight crease formed between his brows.

  “On one condition,” she stipulated, sniffling, impatiently swiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “I’ll be yours on one condition.”

  Niklas tilted his head and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Condition?”

  Pushing herself higher up, she narrowed her eyes and scowled threateningly. “Absolutely no more bordellos for you, mister.”

  “Love, the only woman I want for the rest of my life, is you.” He pulled her down and sealed his lips over hers in a kiss clearly meant to demonstrate his claim.

  He succeeded.

  “Say yes, my love,” he urged. “I want the words.”

  “Yes, Niklas. I will spend the rest of my life loving you.” Before he could sweep her away on another kiss, she smiled and traced the curve of his lower lip with the tip of her finger. “So tell me the rest.”

  “I made only one request before I was returned.” He searched her face, and he grinned, as though vastly pleased with the bargain he’d struck, whatever it might have been. “I asked that my life force be tied to yours, as Xander’s is to Kyanna’s. I will grow old with you. And when you die, I will follow.”

  A frown creased her forehead as the ramifications sank in. “Niklas, no. You shouldn’t have—”

  “Too late, the deal is struck.” He nuzzled the side of her throat. “There’s more.”

  She shivered in response. Seeming to take that as encouragement, he let his hands begin to roam. Her breath caught.

  “And as far as our bond goes…” Grinning wickedly, Niklas rolled and pinned her beneath her. “I could tell you.” He used his splayed fingers to fan her hair on the pillow. “But I think showing you would be far more effective.”

  He took his time removing each article of clothing, lavishing each inch of bared skin with sensual attention. Niklas worshiped her with such devotion that her head was soon spinning, and she was poised on the brink of orgasm by the time they were both naked.

  He positioned himself between her thighs and braced his elbows on either side of her head. His fingers slid through her hair, cupping her head as he waited for her to open her eyes and look up at him.

  And when she did, she caught her breath. His eyes!

  They flickered a startling, brilliant, sapphire blue.

  So serious. So intense.

  “I love you, tá’hiri.” Slowly, deliberately, he eased inside her in one long, seamless thrust. “For the rest of my life”—he rotated his hips—“in this life and every moment beyond.” Gliding in, gliding out, he added, “I will love you, and honor you, and cherish you. And you will be marrying me, by the way. In a church.”

  “In a church,” she echoed, smiling dreamily.

  “In a church,” he repeated, as if the mere words were too unbelievable to credit. “You are my heart, my soul. My reason for existing.”

  His lips sealed over hers, capturing her sob. His thumbs tracked the trails of tears slipping down her temples as he kissed her with such tender passion that her heart flip-flopped. By infinitesimal degrees, Niklas deepened the kiss, turning it into a glorious blaze of soul-fusing fervor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, he held her head between his hands and peered into her eyes, unwavering. Compelling.

  Tiny sparks, like little shockwaves of static electricity, erupted all over her body. Her nerve endings sizzled with awareness. And deep inside, molten heat soared, erupted, drenching her body in bliss as she’d never experienced. She clung to him and screamed his name.

  Niklas gave a hoarse shout near her ear as his body went rigid and his shaft spasmed deep inside her.

  Carly lay beneath him, panting, limp. Dazed. At length, when she finally recovered her senses and located her voice, she pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw and queried, “Was that the change you were hinting about?”

  “One of them,” he murmured, smiling against her temple.

  “One of them?” Good God, if he had any more surprises like that in store for her, their life together was destined to be woefully short. She was likely to expire from sheer pleasure. She could already see her gravestone. Here lies Carly—she didn’t exactly know what her last name would be as he had none; that was another of many things they needed to discuss—Beloved wife of Niklas, loved well and gone too soon.

  “Mmhmm,” he mumbled, nibbling at her earlobe.

  “At the risk of looking a gift horse in the mouth and asking too many questions…” His snort of laughter earned him a stiff-fingered poke in the ribs. Still buried deep inside her, his erection pulsed, making her catch her breath before she could go on. “What other changes are there?”

  He rotated his hips and began anew the rhythm that was as old as time. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped softly. Moaned low as he set that stunning shower of sensual sparks cascading throughout her system once more. Only magnified.

  “Oh, I think I’ll just keep surprising you,” he promised, his eyes smoldering, his grin wicked.

  Epilogue

  Gideon let the door slam behind him. He dragged his gaze around the smoke filled barroom. The place was called Purgatory. Some twisted part of him found humor in the name. It was, after all, what his life had become. Not exactly Hell, but Hell was certainly within spitting distance. Only a smattering of demons loitered around the half-empty bar tonight. Just as well. He wasn’t in the mood for company. His great loophole had been a bust; any scraps of hope he’d managed to hold on to this long had evaporated.

  No. Evaporated wasn’t the right word. Evaporated was benign. Evaporated implied there was nothing left. That he was empty. And he was anything but empty. Quite the contrary, in fact. He was so very full. Full of despair. Full of hate. Full of fury.

  Full of the need to destroy.

  He seethed with it.

  Never had he felt this all-consuming rage, not even after his fall. Not the whole time he’d followed Lucifer. And not since he’d thrown off Lucifer’s despotism.

  After all these centuries of not being able to touch or be touched—after all these years of trying to convince himself it didn’t matter, that this was the price he had to pay to redeem himself—he’d really thought he’d found a way around his curse. And having failed, he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. About himself. About the imminent threat to humankind. About his brothers-in-arms. About redemption.

  He was done trying.

  Bellying up, he slapped a pouch of gold down and snapped his order to the horned Animagi behind the bar, following it up with a snarl. “Keep ’em coming.”

  At the first glance Gideon’s way, the barkeep’s eyes widened, and stayed that way. Working his way over to Gideon, he cautiously set a full bottle of whiskey and a shiny shot glass in front of him. And then he slowly backed away, like one would a motion sensitive bomb.

  Shooting him a disgusted look, Gideon snatched up the bottle, foregoing the glass altogether. He skulked across the room to settle in at a table in the corner. After shoving one of the chairs back with the toe of his boot, he dropped onto it, kicked his feet up on the seat of another and twisted the cap off the bottle, breaking the seal.

  Several long swigs later, he grimaced and lowered the bottle to the table with a loud thump, turning his attention to the room at large. The place looked like it had two-stepped through the 1900s, crashed into the 1930s, tripped and fell face-first through the 1970s, and landed on its rear end in the 1980s, keeping a bit of each time period as a
memento. Purgatory was the kind of place that Diners, Drive-ins and Dives would have given wide berth to. After all, the clientele wasn’t exactly family friendly.

  Tossing a mental shrug, he chugged another quarter of the bottle down, hissing as it stripped away yet another layer of his empathy. What the hell, he wasn’t there for the ambiance. He was there for the whiskey and some peace and quiet. It wasn’t as if he was ever going to have a family to worry about. While he and the other fallen demons had formed a loose brotherhood of sorts, they were a far cry from Leave It to Beaver. Xander’s Kyanna had begun to grow on him, and Niklas’s little human had wormed her way under his skin. But it was getting damned hard to paste a smile on his face and pretend to be happy as he watched the happy couples make googly eyes and fawn all over each other.

  Damned hard to watch them touch each other when he’d never again know the touch of a woman. Never again feel a woman’s warmth. Never experience anything more than pitying looks and sympathetic smiles.

  His loophole was closed. Permanently.

  God, he was pathetic.

  Tossing back another shot, he savored the sting. Whiskey was the only thing that could warm him now, and he intended to swim in it—swim until he burned. He glanced over to the pool table. A couple demons stood there, cues in hand, staring at him. His gaze traveled to the chrome and vinyl booths on the far wall. The three occupants there were staring at him too. Even the barkeep continued to keep a wary eye glued to him.

  What the hell was their problem? Hadn’t they ever seen a demon drink whiskey before?

  He reached for the bottle again, and that was when he finally looked at his own hand. It was caked with drying demon blood. Frowning, he glanced down at himself. His jeans had a big rip in one knee and a slash across the thigh. The other pant leg was singed along the seam and splattered with more blood. His shirt looked as if he’d used it to mop up after a Freddy Krueger party. Unmoved, he flicked a chunk of demon skin from the waist of his T-shirt. The cuts on his knuckles were beginning to heal. As were the slash across his bicep and the gash in his thigh.