Death's Redemption (The Eternal Lovers Series)

by Marie Hall

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she didn’t have to wait long. Frenzy shoved into her, filling and stretching unused muscles.

  She hissed and he trembled.

  “You’re so damn tight,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers as he waited for her to adjust to his girth.

  Gritting her teeth, she used her feet to urge him deeper inside. He made a weird noise in the back of his throat, a mixture of a rasp and a moan. “You ready?”

  The muscles in her thighs twitched as she rolled forward, getting him as deep as he could go in this position.

  “Gods, woman,” he hissed, and then took over the rhythm of their thrusts, shoving deeper and harder into her with each one, bruising her back against the rough tree.

  But it didn’t hurt, only heightened the pleasure. She was dead—this shouldn’t feel so good. Shouldn’t feel better than what she’d done when alive. It shouldn’t make her body burn so bad, feel so full; it shouldn’t make her want to weep and hiss because the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

  With each thrust of his hips, darkness clouded her vision. A heart that she hardly felt beating anymore thumped painfully, chaotically in her chest.

  She didn’t hear the whistle of wind rushing through limbs, didn’t see the flight of birds in the air, didn’t notice the call of crickets or grasshoppers, because everything she had, all that she was, was completely focused on him.

  On them.

  On this.

  “Woman,” he growled again, and his thrusting became more intense. She knew he was reaching his peak.

  Knew they were seconds away from falling over the cliff.

  Frantic with the need for more, she scored her nails down his bare back. He hissed, bowing into her, pounding harder, going deeper.

  And then they were there. A mere second away from the little death, and instinct kicked in, something primal and raw that demanded she take him, so she took him.

  Mila grabbed a hold of the vein on the side of his neck and sank her teeth in. She didn’t have fangs, the bite wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t seem to care.

  Blood filled her mouth, and gods, it was amazing. Its sweetness coated the inside of her mouth, rained down her throat. Filled her belly with heat and fire. Rushed through her veins, bringing with it energy and life.

  She screamed as he roared with their mutual release.

  It took almost a minute before either one of them could move. He stirred first. There was wonder in his eyes and she could not deny that she felt that same wonder in her heart.

  “What the hell just happened?” he mumbled, nostrils flaring from his heavy breaths.

  She licked her lips, not wanting to waste a drop of the earthy red elixir. It should have made her ill with the realization that she’d just drunk some of his blood. Instead it only made her want more.

  Which made her frown. She hardly knew herself anymore. The old her would never have done that. Not just the blood drinking, but letting a strange man touch her, taste her, make her crazed with a lust she could barely begin to comprehend.

  “Stop it,” he growled, stepping into her, framing her face with his hands, forcing her gaze up to his.

  “Stop what?” she muttered, heart beating so much harder than it had in days. The blood inside of her body felt warm, alive and electrified. She was buzzing and snapping, her very pores tingling with life. Her skin felt flushed, her cheeks blazing. His blood had done something to her, made her feel alive and so aware.

  “Stop overthinking this, stop wondering who you are. Stop comparing this life to the one you had before. Understand this, O’Fallen, what you had is gone. Forever. It won’t come back. It is the one universal truth in immortality. We don’t get second chances to right a wrong or redo a mistake. All we have is this second to see through the bullshit and decide.”

  “What are you blatherin’ on about?” It was becoming harder to contain the lilt. For years she’d feared the lilt would give away who she really was. It was why she’d worked so hard to cultivate a neutral accent, and in two days everything she’d worked decades for, everything that’d made her her, was unraveling. All shot to hell.

  His hands were so warm, and she hated to admit this, even in the privacy of her own head, that it was nice. That in the topsy-turvy thing she now called life, it felt like an anchor. His touch helped her to focus, breathe easier, to panic less. Why? She hardly knew him and yet her very soul resonated vibrantly when he was around.

  The way his hands had curved along the contours of her body, how he’d moved in her, tasted her, sipped at her lips like she was a fine wine, it’d all felt so…familiar. Like all her life had been a slow but inexorable progression to him. The dreams she’d had, the face of the red-haired stranger—he’d called to her on a level she couldn’t understand.

  “I’m going to keep you safe.” Those molten silver eyes hooked her, blazed with truth. “Nothing will take you from me.”

  She wanted to believe that, so bad. Wanted to believe that after all the years of running and hiding alone, it was now in the past. That someone was finally around to help her shoulder this burden. Mila gripped his wrists.

  “You want to know the truth?” she whispered, voice quivering because she didn’t want to tell him this. Lightning quick, a million thoughts pinged through her mind. She was so used to bottling it all up inside. Keeping it all to herself. But she’d just opened herself up to him in a way she hadn’t with anyone else before. Not that she’d been a virgin, but hookups had always been secret and brief. A way to relieve an itch. She’d never faced a partner while he’d entered, never let him see the truths in her eyes. Because truths were dangerous and bloody things that could kill as surely as stepping on a land mine.

  Mila was tired of running, tired of being alone, tired of pretending that she didn’t need anyone. Pulse hammering, throat so dry it felt like swallowing sandpaper, she considered a never-ending life of either trying to figure out some way to commit immortal suicide, or running. Again. Alone and scared. Always just barely one step ahead of the shadow, one step ahead of a death that wasn’t really a death. It was an eternal prison of torment; once sucked into the creature her conscience mind would remain trapped, like a fly in amber. Unable to ever stop being consumed by the creature who only wanted the secrets of the future and past revealed. She’d lived her mortal life that way with the knowledge that life wasn’t long, that even if she lived to be seventy, it would one day end. But this—an eternity of running, always looking over her shoulder, always wondering where the enemy was, who it was—it was a dismal, deflating future. She was a freak even amongst monsters; there’d be no clan to offer protection, no one she could turn to.

  Nothing.

  She may not want to trust Frenzy—the instinct in her not to do so was overwhelmingly strong—but she didn’t have a choice. It was either him or nothing.

  “Me first.” His thumb ran along the soft skin underneath her eye, slowly, back and forth. Hypnotic. She focused on that touch, casting out the fears that threatened to overwhelm, losing herself in sensation.

  The way the sun kissed her pale flesh, the way the wind teased the locks of her hair, brushing against the swells of her breasts. How her body still tingled, still wanted him.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t like people. Human or otherwise,” he began, gritting his teeth as he said it, as if forcing the words out was hard for him.

  She snorted. “Not much of a surprise. And not much of a secret.”

  He grinned and it stole her breath. Because this wasn’t a lascivious smirk meant to throw her off-balance, or a hot and smoldering smile meant to make her lose her head. His touch was an unguarded moment of tenderness, something she wasn’t quite sure whether he’d done on purpose or not. But his eyes danced, they sparkled the way they had in her vision when he’d gazed upon his Adrianna. It made him seem more approachable, much less like a monster.

  He laughed and, by the gods, it was like being sucker punched. That smile m
oved through her body like a fiery bolt, making her scalp and toes tingle. Who was this man? Not the same one who made her manic to either claw out his eyes or rip off his clothing.

  “I’m not sure I even like you much.”

  The way he said it, she could tell it was a joke. Not meant to insult. Honestly, it was easier and more believable hearing that than hearing a lie. That he loved her, needed her, cared for her—none of which would be true; they hardly knew each other. For the first time since the panic attack gripped her, she felt herself relax. The anxiety began to slither away, slink back into the darkest recesses of her mind.

  And for the first time in years, she felt her lips tip up, felt them stretch and pull, felt muscles work that she’d thought had atrophied after her mum and gran died.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, brushing his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “You should smile more, O’Fallen.”

  “There hasn’t been much in my life worth smiling about,” she admitted reluctantly.

  Frenzy gazed up at the sky, squinting into the brightness of the sunlight, then he sighed. She was amazed to note the savaging bite she’d given him was already healed up; to look at him you’d never think she’d just fed off him. There wasn’t even a trace of blood on his gold-kissed skin. He was perfect and without flaws, as all fae were.

  And it suddenly dawned on her: she was still as naked as a jaybird and he was wearing nothing but his slacks around his ankles.

  She giggled.

  His brews drew down. “A laugh? I did not think the shrew had it in her.”

  That made her laugh harder. Life was absurd. After all the years of seeing futures, of gleaning the darkest truths of someone, she finally understood what she never had before. “All my life I hid, I fought to survive, to eke out an existence because it’s what my mum and gran taught me to do. To hide, to run away, to never let others in, and now I see…how pointless it all was. They died protecting me, both sucked into the void that is the black-hearted shadow. I did everything they taught me, Frenzy, and in the end none of it mattered because I died too.”

  Tugging her face in, he planted a hard kiss on her forehead. “But you’re not dead. You’ve been reborn and this is your chance to get it right. Do it right.”

  She wanted that so bad it was almost painful. It was a sick churning in the pit of her stomach. A lease on a new life. “But we’re still running. And you shouldn’t be forced into this with me. Why are you here, Frenzy? Tell me the truth.”

  “Okay. But not here. We’re going to talk some things out. But we’re too exposed. I should have thought of that earlier—”

  “What? You mean instead of groping me arse?”

  His lips twitched as his hands curved around the base of her spine, feathering along the top of her bottom. It made her hot and cold and achy in places that shouldn’t feel achy anymore. He’d filled her, given her the best orgasm of her life. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t.

  “It’s your fault for having such a nice one.” Serious again, he threaded his fingers through hers. “We have to move away from here. I know a place. But first let’s get you dressed.”

  Chapter 10

  Since reapers traveled the globe harvesting souls, there was never a guarantee of making it back to faerie. Sithens—entrances into the fae realm—were only in a few spots around the world. Unlike most of his brothers and sisters, Frenzy had always planned ahead for the nights when he couldn’t make it back home. He had homes scattered all over, cabins that he hadn’t visited in decades, sometimes centuries, keeping them guarded from rust or decay with wards and spells.

  Gathering up what few supplies they had, he wrapped Mila in his arms and transported them to a small cabin lost in the middle of the redwood forest. She didn’t speak, just clung to his back, still practically naked except for a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt.

  That he didn’t mind at all.

  He smirked, but quickly turned serious again.

  Something had happened to him, to them, back there in George’s woods. The sex had been incredible, but that wasn’t the difference. Perhaps he hadn’t been fair to her, expecting her to adapt to this new lifestyle without incident. Because in his head, things were as they were. There were no grays in his world; it was all black and white, yes and no. Life was what it was, and he accepted it and moved on.

  Adrianna’s death had taught him that. There were things he could not change, no matter how badly he might want to. But maybe he was wrong.

  It irked him to think so. Old as he was, he’d prided himself on seeing truth for what it is. Inevitable. Unyielding.

  And yet staring into Mila’s eyes, he’d felt like he’d glimpsed a vision of her soul. Of the ugliness that she’d battled through the years. It’d been humbling and disconcerting because there was so much pain inside her it’d stolen the breath from his body. He understood that pain, understood the need to guard and keep others at bay. Far from your heart, from your soul…to not let others in because it hurt too damn much.

  He’d closed himself off after Adrianna. Become a monster, become vicious and so cold that eventually it’d been second nature. Eventually he’d turned all emotion off; any need he’d ever desired to know and be known had died with her.

  But this little other, this baby…she understood that need. He’d read the truth of it in her eyes and he couldn’t help but respond in kind.

  The sun was just beginning to set, casting the world in long shadows. The woods were eerily quiet, a rolling white fog curling slowly along jewel green moss. This land did not belong to faerie, but it filled him with peace all the same. Made the angry hornet’s nest of too many thoughts quiet down, helped him to take an easier breath. A fae was tied to nature, to the balance and harmony of colors and the purity of a land undisturbed by the poison of those who only sought to control and possess it.

  Trees with clay-red-colored bark towered above them, standing like sentinels, guarding them from prying eyes.

  The cabin was nothing more than a solid A-frame of logs, with two small windows and a small stone chimney on top. He’d built this place back in the early nineteenth century; nothing fancy, just a place to rest his head during the long winter nights.

  It was dark and slightly foreboding, but that was simply part of the ward he’d placed on it. A repellent to make any unwary passersby continue on.

  Adjusting the strap of their shared duffel bag, he gestured toward the door. She stood a little to the side and behind him, her liquid amber eyes huge in her pale face. The way the sun shone through the leaves highlighted the prominent scars on her cheeks. She looked like some wild thing with twigs and bark poking up from the strands of her blond hair. There was blood streaked across her neck and jaw, and peach-tipped nipples jutted proudly from her smooth, alabaster breasts. He swallowed hard. She was a nightmarish vision and his mouth watered because what they’d done back there had only fed his beast.

  The way she moved, stealthily, easily through the trees, how she no longer blushed about her nudity or his…the transformation from human to other was fully beginning to grip her. But he couldn’t help but wonder which side would manifest strongest.

  Vampires were sensual creatures, consumed with their need for violence, sex, and blood. Shifters merely for the feed. It’d taken George a millennium to break the hunger’s hold on his sanity.

  Her eyes roamed his body, languishing, reveling in every dip and curve of his flesh. Making him hot and aware that they were alone, that for now, the shadow couldn’t find them.

  “What?” he asked finally, sensing her need to talk.

  At first it appeared like she might not say anything. “This.” She gestured at the open space. “Even out here, in the middle of nowhere. I’m not safe, am I?”

  The melancholy was back in her eyes, but not the anger this time. “Did you enjoy my blood?” he finally asked, not sure why. He knew she had; he’d felt it in the way her body had trembled, her touch had turned frantic.

 
; Her lashes fluttered, but her stare did not waver.

  Stepping toward her, he nodded. “Because I did.”

  She licked her lips. “Really? It didn’t turn you off?” The last was a mere thread of sound.

  Lips twitching, he shook his head. “Come inside, woman. We have to finish this discussion, but I don’t want you out here another second.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she reached his side, taking the hand he offered. In less than a minute he was opening the door.

  The cabin had the old musty odor closed homes usually did.

  “Where are the lights?” She traced the wall with her hand, gazing at him, perplexed.

  He smiled. “I built this home in 1901.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You built?”

  “I did. Try not to sound so disbelieving.”

  She laughed and the sound was nice. Shivery and dulcet all at once. She seemed different now. Not quite so tense or ready to do battle.

  “That’s very domestic for a faerie.”

  Frenzy snorted. “I like to work with my hands, it helps me think.”

  “Think?” she inquired, and he had to admit, he liked this more open side of her. For so long he’d been closed off, not willing to share any part of himself with another soul, but he sensed she needed this. They were walking a tightrope right now: one wrong word or move and they’d be back to arguing, hissing and spitting at one another. He didn’t want that and, he sensed, neither did she.

  Rubbing at a speck of dust on the counter, he shrugged. “After Adrianna’s death, I was lost. I became the monster of nightmare.” He shuddered remembering the countless times he’d wake up and realize he was coated in blood, a snarling, raving lunatic hell-bent on revenge. It was like he’d been two different people: one who was void of emotion, so numb that even a child’s laughter couldn’t have pulled a smile onto his face, and then there’d been the creature walking through the night, wreaking chaos and mayhem wherever he went. Using his hand to fell anything that dared to walk in his way.