Pure Rapture

by Aja James

  It was the pitch of night, a time when the man usually felt his most energized.

  But for a few nights now, his thirst and hunger had been nigh unbearable. At times, he could barely move for the pain inside, gnawing at his internal organs, not just his mostly empty stomach. Whatever he ate or drank he vomited back up within hours, and the pain got worse each time.

  Did he have some kind of as-yet-undiscovered super virus? Should he take himself to the hospital?

  More than a few times he’d thought about it, but immediately rejected the idea. Something in him didn’t trust people.

  Perhaps this explained his lack of acquaintances and friends.

  He didn’t even know how he’d check into a hospital. He couldn’t see himself filling out the forms. Most of the questions would be left blank, because he didn’t know anything about himself, other than his previous place of work (now abandoned) and his current residence.

  He thought about emailing the only soul he did sort of know in this vast city of strangers—Grace Darling, his only patient.

  But A, he thought it would be extremely strange for a doctor to be contacting his patient to ask what she knew about himself, starting with his name, and continue to have the patient’s confidence in his mental and medical abilities. And B, his “condition,” whatever it was, made him unpredictably volatile. He didn’t know what he was capable of, but he sensed a worrisome capacity for violence within him.

  Just last night when he’d gone out for a walk, he’d snarled at the doorman when the poor guy had greeted him.

  And then there were his prodigiously developed canines.

  Which didn’t always look so long and sharp. But recently, they appeared as if they’d grown bigger, more prominent. When he’d snarled at the doorman, he feared he might have bared his teeth and even emitted a threatening growl.

  No, until he got a hold of himself and overcame his “condition,” he wouldn’t be inviting a lone, defenseless woman to a coffee chat, nor would he be admitting himself to any hospitals where they’d prod and poke at him and perhaps institutionalize him at the end of it.

  If only he knew what his “condition” was!

  Tonight, despite his lethargy and the gnawing pain, despite his determination to ensure the safety of others by keeping his volatile self isolated in his apartment, he ventured outside again a few hours after dark.

  He felt restless and caged inside his apartment, like a cornered, wounded tiger prowling in a zoo’s enclosure. He needed the night air on his face. There was a brisk breeze this night that soothed him as soon as he felt it when he stood, as he often did, on the long balcony that wrapped almost entirely around his luxurious penthouse.

  Sometimes he wanted to jump off of it.

  For some reason, he thought that instead of plummeting to a nasty, messy death, he’d float with the wind instead, and be as free as the air he breathed.

  Perhaps he had both a mental and a physical condition he should be worried about.

  With what he felt was “normal” self-preservation, whenever he wanted to leap off the building, he went for a walk outside instead. Arriving on the ground floor not through a free fall but via the apartment’s stainless steel elevator.

  Tonight, the doorman did not greet him, smart fellow, and he did not snarl back. He kept his lips tightly closed over his alarmingly sharp teeth and ate up the ground in long, smooth strides.

  He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t care, though he had a strong suspicion where he’d end up. He had a built-in GPS and always found his way back home. Sometimes he covered distances so quickly he didn’t even recall walking so far.

  Tonight, he took the most direct route, instead of prolonging the circuitous walk to his ultimate destination.

  Within minutes, he found himself in front of a small, three-level brownstone on West 46th Street near May Matthews Playground.

  It was her scent that lured him here every night.

  The woman from the subway.

  He wouldn’t know how to describe it, her unique feminine musk, but he’d recognize it anywhere, no matter his surroundings, no matter the other stronger, more pungent or overpowering smells, of which New York City provided in spades.

  Every night when he opened the double doors to his balcony and stepped outside, the wind carried her scent to him, enticing him to follow it.

  To find her.

  And then what, he didn’t know. But being closer to her, beneath this building where she lived, where her scent was concentrated and stronger, seemed to help ease him a little. It uncoiled some of the tension within.

  He got into the habit of sitting on a bench in May Matthews Playground facing her building, staring up at her window on the second story every night.

  It must be a bedroom window, for he could see a softly-lit lamp, lacy curtains, and whenever she hovered near it while the lamp was turned on, she would inevitably be wearing something shapeless with her hair damp from a recent shower or bath.

  He wanted to run up the stairs of her building and pound on her door, demanding that she be more careful in her nightly hoverings next to her own bedroom window. No telling what sort of weirdos were out there watching her.

  Take himself, for example.

  Right. That would go over exceedingly well.

  Tonight, when she passed by the window, she was strangely dressed for going out.

  He straightened in attention. Where could she be headed so late at night? It must be close to midnight already. It wasn’t safe for a lone, attractive young woman.

  The man’s canines quivered and seemed to elongate in his mouth.

  Irresistibly attractive.

  She came out the front door and gave it an extra tug to lock it firmly. Then she walked quickly, obviously with a destination in mind, headed southeast.

  Without conscious choice, he got up and followed her, keeping several yards of distance between them so that she wouldn’t feel uneasy.

  Still, once or twice, she looked over her shoulder, as if she knew all along that he was there.

  When she neared her intended destination—the Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd Street, a couple of drunken teenagers began to dog her steps.

  The man lengthened his strides and closed the distance between him and the woman. Without a sound, he walked past the leering teenagers and effortlessly patted them each between the shoulder blades.

  Just a small, gentle pat.

  But they both doubled over coughing violently and became too preoccupied with sucking oxygen into their lungs to continue pursuing the woman.

  Interesting, the man thought, looking at the front, then the back of his large, long-fingered hands.

  He hadn’t really even touched the young riffraff. Apparently, his initial assessment that he had a barely leashed penchant for violence was extremely accurate. He certainly meted it out as easily as he breathed.

  When the woman boarded the bus the man debated whether to get on with her. She couldn’t miss seeing him then, and she’d no doubt become very agitated that he was following her. But he didn’t know where she was going in the dead of night. How could he protect her from harm if he couldn’t track her?

  And why the hell did he want to protect her in the first place?

  At the last second, the man decided that making sure the woman was safe was more important than her peace of mind.

  He boarded the bus as the doors closed and made his way to the back where the woman sat alone.

  She looked up as he came toward her, her eyes widening in recognition.

  And then she did something unexpected.

  She didn’t fidget, get up, or scream in dismay. She didn’t scowl or turn away to hide.

  What she did instead was meet his light green eyes with her very true blue ones and wet her lips in anticipation.

  “The past is written but incomplete, each story a footprint amongst countless feet. The truth is revealed but only a grain, a speck of sand amongst a vast desert plain.�
�

  —From the Ecliptic Prophesies, buried and forgotten

  Chapter Nineteen

  “And now I have thoroughly ravished you, my beloved Mate,” Ishtar purred blissfully, a growl of possessive pride in her voice.

  “And I, you,” Tal returned, eyes closed, his full mouth curved in a satisfied smile, lying replete beneath her as she draped herself on top of him like a warm, living blanket.

  After the Mating ceremony and a collective supper to fete their joining, they’d disappeared to Tal’s chambers at the earliest possible opportunity.

  For the rest of the night they claimed each other anew, as if for the very first time. Gentle, inquisitive, tender, and always full of passion and love.

  “I would have Mated you back then, you know,” Ishtar said softly, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. “I wanted desperately to have you for my Blooded Mate.”

  “I know,” he murmured with deep regret, “but it wasn’t the right time for us. The Dark Queen would never have let you go through with it.”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “I can’t help wonder—don’t you ever wonder—whether different choices we made could have led to different paths? At least one where we wouldn’t have been separated for thousands of years. Where you wouldn’t have been…”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze to stop her thought, not wanting either of them to dwell on what couldn’t be changed.

  “I used to be able to see the future before it happened, did you know that?”

  She raised her head and shook it, looking down at him.

  “It was before I lost my sight. And my foresight.”

  “But you will get it back, I know it,” she said immediately, fiercely.

  He stroked a comforting hand down her back to soothe her.

  “Yes, I know it. I can feel my body healing rapidly even now. But I will not miss my other sight, the ability to see events before they occurred. It’s a responsibility I hope to never carry again.”

  She caressed his closed eyelids and fluttered his thick golden lashes with her thumb. She couldn’t get enough of touching and caressing him. Kissing and holding him deep inside of her.

  “It must have been so lonely and trying to bear such a burden,” she sympathized, her heart aching for the innocent boy-man he’d been when she first met him.

  “You are the most courageous male I know.”

  “I was scared shitless most of the time,” he admitted wryly, glad to share this much with someone, with her.

  “I had to weigh every decision with utmost care. I felt I was always walking on a spider-thin rope, all but invisible, between two jagged canyons, over a bottomless unknown. One wrong step and I could plummet into the unending darkness, and worse, bring all of my people with me.”

  “Is that why you never shared any of this?” she guessed, “Because you didn’t want to share this impossible burden?”

  “I don’t know that I’m as selfless as you make me out to be,” he said. “It’s more out of necessity that I don’t share with others.”

  “I tried warning people before unfortunate events occurred when I’d first gained my Gift. It always ended badly. Telling someone what will happen only made certain that it will. I realized that I’m the only one who could change the future, through my actions alone.”

  He paused and considered.

  “No, not change it, but choose the best one that I could.”

  He opened his eyes to look at her, now able to see again the shimmering glow that outlined her face and features.

  “But I can’t see the future for myself or those who are closest to me. I couldn’t see that my decision to be taken in as a captive would cause my father’s death. When I returned to the rebel forces, they told me he’d died of a broken heart.”

  “Oh Tal,” she murmured, stroking his cheek.

  “I could never see our future together or apart. It made me insane with worry at times, that I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

  “Instead, I’m the one who couldn’t protect you,” she said quietly, deeply sad.

  “Don’t,” he whispered huskily, staring intensely into her eyes.

  “Don’t torment yourself like that. If what I went through is the price I have to pay to be with you now, to be free to love you and be loved by you, then I don’t regret any of it.”

  He swallowed and lowered his eyes from hers, taking a deep, shaky breath.

  “I just…I’m not the male you used to know,” he rasped roughly, the pain of his experiences too raw and recent to ignore. These would be the most difficult wounds to heal, he knew.

  Perhaps they never would.

  He said the next words so low, she could barely hear him despite their closeness.

  “Sometimes in my waking hours I wonder whether this is all a dream, whether I am still imprisoned in a dark hole somewhere awaiting my next punishment.”

  “Tal—” She dropped her forehead to his and inhaled through her nose, trying to swallow back the tears that threatened at his pain.

  “You Mated a broken male,” he continued harshly, a note of defiance in his tone.

  “But I was too selfish to stop you. I don’t think…”

  He clenched his jaw against the surge of sorrow and anguish within him, now an ever-present shadow upon his soul.

  “I don’t think I can live without you, ana Ishtar. And even if this is all just a dream, the dream of you makes me want to live. Even though half of me, the darkest despair in me, still wishes for death.”

  “Tal…”

  She buried her tear-streaked face against his throat, weeping silently and holding him tight. It was tearing her apart to hear his pain, but she knew that he needed to share it, release it.

  She needed to be strong for him and withstand it.

  “She held me for four thousand years,” he whispered, determined that she understood the tainted goods she was getting.

  “She…did things to me. Took things from me. Do you…do you understand?”

  She nodded jerkily against him.

  “I understand.”

  “I was mostly dead inside when Inanna found me,” he said roughly. “It was only the hope of holding you again that gave me strength. And when I waited for you to come home that night—”

  She moaned helplessly, recalling what she’d done to him, the savage way she’d hurt him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried, clutching him to her, “I’m so very sorry…”

  “I did not expect to survive it,” he went on ruthlessly, needing to release his truths, needing to make her understand as he’d never been able to before.

  Who he was. What he felt. The male she had tied herself to for eternity.

  “But I wanted to give you all of myself before the Goddess sought fit to end my torment. And when I awoke to find myself still among the living, I think there was a part of me that hated you for it.”

  “Do you hate me still? Do you hate that I let her live?” she whispered, holding her breath.

  “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But there are times…there will be times, when I hate myself, when I fear the darkness within me will drain your light.”

  She levered herself up to gaze into his half clouded turquoise eyes, seeing the bleakness and despair within them.

  But she also saw a fragile hope within the clouds. And always, a deep, fiercely abiding love.

  “I am your very own star, remember? My light will always shine bright. It is written in my very name,” she said, her voice strengthened by conviction.

  He had been so strong and brave for both of them, for his people, his loved ones. She would be his strength from now on. She would never let the darkness vanquish the light.

  “The demons within you cannot win. I will squash them beneath my great furry paws, chew them into dust and spit out their bones.”

  Her ferocious growl shook the air around them, and true to her word, the cloak of sadness and despair lifted from his spiri
t.

  He closed his eyes again and smiled. It was as if a tremendous weight had been removed from his consciousness. She hadn’t run away screaming from the darkness within him, the jagged, broken shards of his soul.

  He had a feeling he would test her again and again throughout the ages, and equally, he had a feeling she would always pull him back into the light.

  “Promise you will never leave me,” he commanded, flexing his hips to reach higher within her, his swollen sex still locked inside her tight, silky core.

  “I will never leave you,” she promptly vowed, squeezing him deliciously within her wet, velvet vise.

  She put a hand upon his chest, beneath which beat his aching heart.

  “We are Blooded Mates, you and I. I joined your life force to mine to save you, and then I completed the Bond by joining mine to yours. So you see, I cannot ever leave you. I depend upon your Nourishment for my very survival.”

  He stilled and looked into her glowing visage.

  “I remember now. You…you plunged a dagger into my heart.”

  Given the violence of the act, his revelation strangely did not seem to worry him.

  “It’s part of the process for forming the Bond between Blooded Mates. I marked your heart with my blood, and then I marked my own with yours. Now the only thing that can come between us is death. But even then I will not let you go.”

  Tal thought back on the Pure Ones’ Mating ceremony they just had, an exchange of vows in front of their family and friends.

  “You Dark Ones are a bloodthirsty lot,” he mused, though he seemed to relish the fact rather than be concerned by it.

  “You better believe it,” she growled, nuzzling his throat, then dragging her sharp fangs along his jugular. “I am thirsty for your blood.”

  And she took it, gorged upon it to her bloodthirsty heart’s content.

  She took him.

  Her Blooded Mate. Her Eternal Mate.

  And one day soon, she’d “marry” him too. She wanted to mate with him in every way, proclaim to the world and every race that inhabited it that he was hers, and she was his.

  Untold hours later, when they were ecstatically sore and replete from their love making, he spooned her with his body from behind, keeping his erection tight against her G spot while his fingers idly strummed her pearl.