by Caris Roane
He wasn’t sure why she was crying so he waited. He stroked her hair, her shoulders, her back. His neck grew wet. “I just thought,” she said at last, dragging a breath into her lungs, “this would never happen.” She sighed and sniffed a little more. He felt a slight movement of air—oh, she’d folded a tissue—then she blew her nose. “But I didn’t mean to cry. I’m just so happy.”
“I know,” he said, savoring her body pressed up against his. “I love you so much. I didn’t think we’d get to be together, either. It seemed impossible but I’m so glad you’re with me. Here. Now. You feel so damn good in my arms … guardian. My wonderful therapist guardian.”
She chuckled. He slid his arms around her a little more then squeezed. With her arms still wrapped around his neck she hugged him back.
He had his woman where he wanted her, in his bedroom, right next to his oh-so-massive bed. He wanted her naked and between the sheets.
“Kerrick,” she murmured, drawing back, her hands now fondling his biceps. “What changed … for you, I mean? Why are you okay with our being together now? I mean I could see that something was different the moment you returned to the Cave, but what?”
He looked into her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with gold and still wet with tears. He slid his hand behind her nape and with his thumb stroked her cheek. He loved her so much. “About the time you went to the training camps, I moved into this room, the bedroom I’d shared with Helena all those decades ago.” She shifted slightly and glanced at the bed. She sighed and returned her gaze to him. He continued, “I kept thinking about her, about Helena, about the kinds of things she used to say to me, the arguments she’d used to persuade me to marry her. She was fearless, Alison. But more than that, she had accepted her death, a lesson I needed to learn, especially if I wanted to be with you as well as to have a shared life with our daughter.
“I need you to understand that the warrior drive to protect is like—well, it’s as powerful as the shield you set up to defeat Leto. With that drive comes both guilt and an unwillingness to accept failure.”
She swallowed hard. “So, for you, Helena’s death, and the deaths of your children, was a failure.”
His heart sank. “An enormous one.”
“But Kerrick—”
“No. Don’t try to soothe the pain. You can’t and I’m good with it, I really am, but I won’t pretend that their deaths didn’t create a chasm between you and me.” He huffed a sigh, his hands now gliding up and down her back. “The truth is, I could not have taken this step with anyone other than you, because of the powers and abilities you possess. I could never have married an ascender like Helena again because I know in my heart the results would have been the same. She would have died.
“Which is why our being together seems so miraculous to me and why the breh-hedden, arriving as it did with you, frames that miracle. Who you are, with your powers and abilities, is the reason I can take this step today, the only reason. Nothing less would have made any sense or made our life together possible.
“So I find myself grateful beyond words for you. For. You.”
Here he paused and took in a shaky breath. “Even with all that, however, I still had to take one more step because I know, regardless of your powers or mine, should either you or I err one degree to the right or left, if either of us should commit a miscalculation or misinterpretation like the one at the palace, then that is how swiftly our time together ends. Which means that the other—or God help us, our daughter—would have to bear the results of death and separation.
“So what I chose, instead of losing you, was to let my failure go, as much as I was able, and to embrace what has been given to me today. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve accepted my death, as well as yours and our daughter’s, and that despite my fear of future sadness and suffering, I want to be with you today, to know you, to love you, to have you in my bed, sharing my life and raising our daughter together.”
He looked down at her, willing her to know just how sincere he was. She rose up and kissed him. He thumbed her cheek again and kissed her back. “So what of you?” he said. “What changed for you?”
* * *
Alison struggled to find the words. For one thing, she was still wrapped up in everything he had just said, his words a blanket of comfort yet composed of such startling fear and confession and acceptance that she was overwhelmed. She wondered just how carefully she had thought her own situation through. More tears tracked down her cheeks, for him and for her.
She wiped them away with the tissue that had practically become a lump of clay in her hand. With a quick fold, she got rid of the lump and brought a fresh tissue to her. Once more she blew her nose and wiped her cheeks. Her forearms rested on his massive chest, her arms pressed against the ridges of his weapons harness, the hilt of his dagger between them. She looked up at him. “I don’t suppose you could lose the harness.”
“Absolutely.” A vibration touched her arms and the next moment she landed on skin. She slid her arms up around his neck once more and pressed her chest against his.
He murmured his approval, his arms surrounding her again, a blessed cage of solace and reassurance.
She searched for the words to explain. At last, she began. “The reality of having destroyed your chest and abdomen wrecked me, tore my confidence to shreds. The last day I was with you in the hospital, I was convinced I could never be with you because I could never again trust myself.
“Being at the training camps was a blessing because all those field exercises, the hours in the gym, the grueling marathon runs tended to block my grief at being separated from you. But once on my cot, for those few minutes I had before sleep plowed over me like a tank, my heart would turn to you and all the longings and despair returned in full force. I would break into a sweat and tears would pour from my eyes. My need for you, to be as close to you as I am now, tensed every muscle of my body. I can’t even begin to explain how hard it was.
“Then sleep would come and I would begin a new day. But night brought the same suffering, the same struggle, and ended the same as each day before, my body sweating, shaking, my pillow damp.
“This evening, however, before the death vamps showed up at the barracks, I’d been asking myself a host of really tough questions, like wouldn’t it be better to live full-out than to retreat into a pit of despair, and retreating was what I’d been doing my whole life. And yes, I’ll cut myself some slack and say it was necessary on Mortal Earth, but here, on Second, ever since I was forced to battle Leto, something inside me changed. In that moment I saw what I had, what I had been given, the breadth of my powers—but more than that, I loved that I could just be myself.
“Then later, after I’d wounded you, I thought I had only one choice … to retreat into myself, to live a quiet, relatively obscure life as I had on Mortal Earth, in order to protect everyone around me.
“Kerrick, I can’t live that life anymore. That life is done. That’s what’s changed. I want to live fearlessly, like Helena. I know I have a lot to learn about my powers, but I’m done retreating in despair. On the other hand, I have to ask, aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you again?”
He shook his head, his emerald eyes glowing with love. “What I’ve been trying to tell you is that even if you become, through no fault of your own, the instrument of my death, I’m okay with it. We’re at war and I have no doubt the enemy is already plotting the next round of fun for you, for me, for my brothers, and for Endelle.” He paused and kissed her forehead. “We’ll do our best, you and me. The rest we’ll leave in the Creator’s hands.”
Alison felt the peace now dominating Kerrick’s thoughts, his acceptance of what he could never change, that death happened, even the possibility that death could come through her powers.
For herself, she surrendered to the same possibility but grew determined to become a student of her abilities. At least in that way she could gain more confidence in the future.
She felt his chest rise
as he took in a deep breath. She also felt his anxiety spike. “What is it?” she asked.
“Are you ready for this—the breh-hedden I mean—and all that it might entail, known or otherwise?”
She took a deep breath. “After all that we’ve been through, I have no doubt that this is the right path for both of us. At the same time, yeah, I’m a little nervous.”
“You want to walk through it?”
She nodded and put her hand to her throat. “So, you’ll take me here.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh, yeah.” His eyelids fell to half-mast as his gaze slid over her throat. Cardamom suddenly drenched the air between them.
The heady spice sent sudden shivers over every inch of her skin. “Then what do I do?”
He nodded and gave himself a shake. “Well, you’ll take my wrist at the same time. The breh-hedden can only occur if we take blood at the same time.”
She touched her lip and felt the incisors lengthen with a mere thought. “I’ll take you with my fangs,” she murmured. “Wow.”
“Exactly.”
Another flow of shivers and desire struck low.
“Sweet lavender,” he murmured, leaning close and sucking in a quick breath as he kissed her forehead again.
“Then we’ll join our minds while we’re joined physically and that completes the breh-hedden?”
“Yep. And if the historical anecdotes hold true, once we complete the process, you and I will be able to find each other even without telepathy. We’ll be able to fold to each other’s positions any time, any place.”
She smiled and kissed him once, a gentle touch to his lips. “Well, that would be something.”
* * *
Kerrick looked into blue eyes, rimmed with gold, that had the power to hold him in thrall without once invoking a preternatural power. She was the woman for him. He loved her. He desired her. He needed her. The thought of communing with her caused his wing-locks to thrum. He always felt out of control when she was near, like if he really let go, his wings would mount when he didn’t want them to.
“I’m smelling cardamom,” she said. “Lots of it.” A dewy blush crept over her cheeks. Her lips grew swollen then parted. “So are you going to do anything about it, Warrior?”
The challenge in her words awoke the beast. He narrowed his eyes and growled, a low sound that vibrated heavily in his throat. He wrapped his arms around her a little more then kissed her, a forceful, don’t-mess-with-me kiss that had her moaning. He thrust his tongue between her lips. She suckled, which brought another growl rumbling in his throat.
He released her but her body had a boneless quality that made him smile. In a quick movement he lifted her in his arms then mentally rolled the comforter and sheet to the foot of the oversized bed. He settled her on the bed, the way he’d wanted her from the first, her long blond hair feathered out over the dark sheet.
He pushed aside one of her legs, making room so that he could move between. He leaned over her then planted his hands on either side of her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. “So, you ready for this, ascender?”
She drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, her hands once more riding his biceps, stroking up and down.
Supporting himself with one hand, he slid the other under her stiff green shirt and made gentle circles on the bare flesh of her stomach. She arched, writhing beneath his touch. Lavender swirled up from her body, from every pore, even from her sweet breath as he leaned down and put his lips on hers once more. He kissed her in a teasing drift that brought soft moans from her throat.
He drew back and looked into her eyes, the blue eyes that had tempted him from the first, exquisite eyes with just a hint of gold around the rim of the iris, her eyes, his breh’s eyes. “I love you so much.”
Her hand slid to the nape of his neck. “Kiss me again.”
He obliged her and for a long time he savored her lips then the moist recesses of her mouth as his tongue drove deep. She slid her fingers through his hair.
He kissed her cheek, her neck, then moved lower to lick her in a long glide up her throat. “I want your blood,” he whispered, his voice little more than a deep hoarse rumble.
Once more she palmed the back of his neck, pressing. “My vein throbs for you.”
He licked and kissed the skin above her vein. He could feel the powerful pulses against his lips, the invitation so erotic. He was already hard but the thought of sinking his fangs and taking what he wanted shot desire through him like a bolt of lightning. The head of his cock ached for release. The arms poised above her shook with need. And they’d barely gotten started.
Jesus. How the hell was he going to last when he swore that with only two deft tugs he’d be gone?
He took a deep breath, his fingers still teasing her stomach. She moaned and arched, her hips pressing back into the bed then up toward him.
“Kerrick,” she whispered. “I want you. How about you get me naked.”
He hissed as he leaned back. “So good,” he whispered. He groaned as his hands slipped to the top button of her shirt. He could have folded her clothes off, but dammit, he needed every precious second of this time with her, even though he thought the waiting might just blow the top of his head off.
He took a couple of deep raspy breaths as he undid her shirt. He followed the release of each button with his lips, one hot inch at a time. She panted and writhed beneath the lingering swipes of his tongue.
Once he had her bra exposed, he used a fang and sliced the damn thing in two, savoring the cry that broke past her lips.
As he pushed the lace away from her breasts, his hips jerked in a single hard pump and once more his wing-locks sent a vibration through his body. He put a hand to her lower abdomen and this time folded off her olive-green pants. He looked down. Oh, God. She wore a black lace thong and he groaned.
“Spread your legs.”
Your voice, Kerrick, she sent. Oh, God, your voice, so deep.
At the same time she parted her legs wide. He settled his thighs low so that he didn’t make too much contact. He’d lose it if he did, and he needed to take his time.
He leaned over her, moving his forearms lower. He drew her left breast into his mouth and suckled. She cried out, flinging her arms wide. She wrapped her legs over his buttocks. He suckled until she was writhing beneath him and begging for more. Her hands once more found his hair. She tugged, pulled, and wrapped her fingers in his thick locks, her hips gyrating against his abdomen.
He tended to her other breast, sucking, laving with his tongue. She panted softly, her chest rising and falling in erotic pulses, moans flowing out of her throat as he continued to tend to each breast in turn.
She kept calling his name within his head, Kerrick, Kerrick, which again drove him crazy.
He released her breast and drew back. He couldn’t get far since her hands were buried in his long warrior hair and she didn’t seem to want to let go. Her face was turned to the side, her eyelids closed, her back arching, her hips undulating, her breath punctuating the air. Goddammit, his wing-locks surged and thrummed. He could feel familiar oil glistening at the apertures, weeping. How the hell was he going to hold on to his wings?
Shit. This whole experience might just kill him.
He settled his mouth on her other breast once more. The feel of her beaded nipple against his tongue … oh, God.
Her lavender scent now flooded the room. She was already close to orgasm and his erection throbbed.
He closed his eyes and focused once more on each breath he took. He swore that if his heart were any weaker the damn thing would give one hard jerk and stop pumping altogether.
Without losing contact with her breast, he folded off his kilt, wrist guards, and sandals. The briefs disappeared as well. Her legs, still wrapped around his buttocks, now connected skin-to-skin.
“That’s nice,” she murmured. “So nice.” She moaned now, deep moans from the bottom of her throat. He released her breast and moved down her
body, her legs releasing their hold on his buttocks. When he’d reached the juncture of her thighs, he leaned close then carefully slid his fang beneath the left side of her thong and sliced, then the right. With each tug, she gave a little cry.
He peeled back the triangle of lace to reveal her beautiful light curls. His cock twitched. His wing-locks surged. He stroked her gently with the back of his finger. She groaned. Lavender rose to him in heady waves now until his brain was drunk with the scent.
He had to taste her. He slid his tongue down her cleft, dipped low, and dragged over the entrance to her core.
She cried out. “Oh, God, Kerrick.” He knew what she wanted.
“Patience,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
“Please.” She was begging for contact, hard contact.
I just have to have one more taste, he sent, laying his thoughts over her mind. He licked deep this time. Your honey is like heaven.
Kerrick. Please.
Her breathing came in long gulps now, her fingers still working through his hair.
He drew himself upright and made eye contact, his knees between her spread legs. Her lips were parted, her breaths quick, full of gasps and uneven. She watched him, her gaze skating over his face, his shoulders, his chest, then falling to his groin.
He took his heavy cock in his hand. She licked her lips. He stroked himself. “Is this what you want?”
She nodded. “God, yes.”
He stroked again. “You want me to give it to you?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Please. Now. Hard.”
He stretched out and poised the head of his cock at her wet swollen entrance. When she moaned and her hips rocked, he plunged into her. She cried out, clutching at his shoulders, his back, his waist. He leaned over her, his forearms resting on the bed.
He moved inside her, his cock at hair-trigger. He pulled back, thrust forward. Once more he concentrated on his breathing. He set up a rhythm.
She looked into his eyes, her hands having found purchase on his shoulders. Tears streamed down the sides of her face and into her hair. “I love you so much.”
