by Kali Argent
With his heart bleeding and laid raw, Xavian stood and offered both hands, taking as much of Aeryn’s weight as she’d allow as he helped her up from the bed. Gods, it hurt to see her so frail, so weak, but knowing he couldn’t do anything about it threatened to destroy him.
He expected to see fear and uncertainty when he looked into her hunter-green eyes, but instead, he saw only steadfast determination. She didn’t complain once as he helped her into the attached bathroom, though a pained grimace twisted her features with every step.
“Let me help.”
Aeryn patted his arm as they neared the shower, but shook her head and stepped away, pulling her shoulders back and straightening her spine. “I have to do this on my own if I want to convince Asa. I might as well start practicing now.”
He admired her bravery and selflessness, and he respected her willingness to put the needs of many before her own, but the selfish part of him wished it didn’t have to be her. It was her decision, though, and loving her meant honoring that choice, even when he didn’t agree with her.
“I can’t heal you, nikka, but I can take some of the pain.”
He rubbed his palms together until bright green flames engulfed his hands. Tenderly, he caressed her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck, and over the tops of her shoulders, drawing out her discomfort and replacing it with healing warmth. The effects would fade, but at least for now, she seemed to breathe a little easier.
“That’s much better. Thank you.” A peaceful sigh billowed from her lips. “Make sure Deucalion is ready. I’ll be out soon.”
His chest constricted, and he swallowed past the lump forming in his throat as he bent to kiss her pale, dry lips. Then, with every fiber of him screaming in protest, he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TEN
“This is madness,” Deucalion whispered as they crossed the courtyard in front of the church. “What if they recognize you?”
She’d wondered the same, but just as she’d told Xavian, they didn’t have a choice. “They won’t,” she answered with more confidence than she felt. “The Morph who attacked me is dead, so he couldn’t have told Asa.”
After she’d showered, she and Xavian had made a trip into the French Quarter to her two-bedroom apartment on St. Ann Street in what had once been a luxury hotel. The instant she’d crossed the threshold, she’d been swarmed with nostalgia, and the memories had brought her comfort. There hadn’t been time for a proper tour, but she’d pointed out some of her most treasured belongings while she’d gathered the things she needed for the evening.
Xavian had been particularly fascinated by an ancient polaroid camera she’d picked up from an antiquities dealer in Chicago. Once she’d explained how to operate it, he’d proceeded to expend the only cartridge by taking pictures of her from every angle.
It had been a welcomed distraction, and she’d enjoyed watching him laugh and smile as he exclaimed over the novelty of it.
They’d decided that instead of pretending to be a bottom-dwelling smuggler, she should play a much different role. So, she’d ditched her worn sweater and scuffed boots in favor of a formfitting, crimson evening gown with a neckline that plunged between her breasts, all the way to her navel. She’d worn the dress exactly once, to some charity something or another, but it still hugged her in all the right places, much to Xavian’s dismay.
When she’d laughed and reminded him it had been his idea, he’d just grunted and kissed her lips. They needed an edge, something to make them stand out, and the nearly obscene dress definitely made an impression. Her hope was to catch Asa’s attention and hold it from the moment she entered the room.
She’d begun to cough before they’d left the apartment, and she’d been delayed by a sudden by violent nosebleed. In essence, she was getting worse, and no one knew how much time she had left. The group still believed Asa would conduct some kind of test on the Crimnian prisoners, and if that was the case, she needed to be the first in line.
Hence her polished and painted appearance.
As she and Deucalion climbed the stone steps of the cathedral, two sets of Morphling guards parted, clearing the way for them through a massive doorway. She’d expected at least twice as many guards to be patrolling the outside of the building, but she hadn’t counted on seeing nearly twenty Morphs within the cathedral itself. They stood between the rows of shadowy pews, each facing the center aisle, watching as she and Deucalion made their way to the alter where the other Crimnians and their captors were already waiting. They formed two rows, facing each other on either side of the platform, a lone figure she guessed to be Asa Brax standing between them.
She couldn’t make out many details in the darkness, but she’d been inside the cathedral enough times to know the layout. She knew the original artwork on the high ceilings over the alter had been painted over after the war, and the artsy lamps and candelabras had been replaced with more efficient lighting. The cushions of the pews appeared black in the thin rays of moonlight that spilled through the windows, but in reality, they were a deep, smooth green.
She knew all of these things, and she recited them in her head to calm her nerves and drown out the clink of the shackles around Deucalion’s wrists. He was meant to be a prisoner, after all, and because of his race, they’d taken the extra precaution of obtaining meta-binders, special shackles that neutralized his magic. Aeryn patted herself on the back for thinking of it when she noticed similar shackles on the other Crimnians.
Sharp pain lanced up her right leg with every movement, and twice, her steps faulted when the dizziness threatened to pull her down. Xavian had used his gift and the pretty green flames to take some of her pain again before she’d departed for the cathedral, but she could already feel the effects fading.
Pillared candles illuminated the pulpit, their flickering flames casting shadows over the faces of those gathered and reflecting in their glassy-eyed stares. Aeryn frowned. No Morphling had stopped them or tried to influence her or Deucalion. Maybe that would happen once they reached the two guards in front of the small gate that separated the nave from the sanctuary.
The Atrean male watched their approach, his yellow, cat-like eyes glowing in the firelight. Dressed in solid white with long flowing hair and delicate features, he genuinely didn’t look like much of a threat, nor did she see the family resemblance between him and Cypher. Probably because she liked Cypher, and while she’d never met Asa, she had every reason to despise him.
“That’s him,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.
When Deucalion gave no indication that he’d heard her, she risked a short, sideways glance. A quick search of his face showed the same glassy eyes and the same vacant stare as his brethren.
Aeryn sighed. He was going to be pissed about that, but there was nothing she could do about it now. At least her nanocytes still seemed to be protecting her from the Morphling’s influence—or they hadn’t attempted it on her. Either way, the group had agreed she shouldn’t try to hide it. If questioned about it, she would tell the truth, because keeping up the façade for any period of time would be difficult under the best of circumstances. In her current condition, she’d never be able to manage it.
“Welcome,” Asa called, extending his arms and sweeping them out to the sides. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He came forward as she and Deucalion climbed the steps to the pulpit. “My name is—”
“I know who you are.” Pain made her tone sharper than she’d intended, but she didn’t care. Let him hear her distaste. Their original plan had collapsed when she’d been attacked in the park, and her charming him was no longer a requirement. “Is this everyone? Are we ready to begin?”
Bells tolled, echoing through the cathedral as they heralded in the midnight hour. Asa smiled, hips lips pulled back over rows of pointed teeth.
“We’re ready.”
“Good. I’ll go first.”
He seemed taken aback by her brisk tone, but he recovered quickly. “And you are?”
“Tired.” Her stomach contorted into a snarled not, and saliva filled her mouth as nausea overwhelmed her. “So, what’s it going to be?”
“I like your eagerness.”
He was a terrible liar, but Aeryn stared back at him, unflinching. “Where’s this priceless treasure you promised?”
His eyes narrowed at the corners, and his lips stretched just a little wider as he lifted his right hand and wiggled his fingers. “Is this sufficient?”
The light from the flames glinted off the amber, hexagonal-shaped stone encased in a ring of shimmering gold. Her vision blurred and darkened at the edges, making it difficult to see the writings on the jewel, but she could make out enough to know it was the relic she sought.
“And how does this work?” She had his attention. Now, she needed to control the situation, keep the momentum in her favor. “What do you want with the Crimnian?”
“Just a small drop of blood.”
Without prompting, Deucalion pushed both hands forward, turning his palms toward the ceiling with splayed fingers. Aeryn tensed, but she didn’t try to stop the Atrean when he removed a long, slender pin from the breast pocket of his white suit jacket and used it to prick the middle finger on Deucalion’s left hand. Then Asa pinched the appendage until a drop of blood welled atop the skin.
With an air of drama, he shook out his hand containing the ring, inhaled deeply, holding the breath as he touched the stone to the bead of crimson.
And nothing happened.
Not that Aeryn expected it to, but the “test” had reached its completion too quickly. The others were on their way, probably already outside the church, but that still left her alone with Asa and almost two dozen of his guards. Even if Xavian and the rest of the team burst through the doors in the next three seconds, they were vastly outnumbered, especially if the Morphs used their influence to force the Crimnians and smugglers to fight for them.
With time running out and nothing to lose, she started forward, purposely catching her toe on the hem of her dress, and stumbled right into Asa, knocking him back half a step. As she’d intended, his arms shot out, and he grabbed her by the upper arms to steady her. From there, it was a simple matter of stuttering and blushing while she profusely apologized, touching him repeatedly, distracting him until she could get into position to slip the ring off his finger without him noticing.
Unfortunately, that plan went straight to hell when he jerked away from her, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping, and he let loose an agonized scream. The two Morphs near the railing that separated the sanctuary from the rest of the church moved forward, their hands going to the daggers on their hips. Behind her, she heard the hurried footfalls of the remaining guards, all retreating toward the exit just as the towering doors burst open.
“Aeryn!”
She heard Xavian call her name, followed by the clank of metal meeting metal and a loud scream from one of the Morphlings, but she couldn’t look away from Asa. The ring had begun to emit an eerie red light, the luminosity growing brighter as tendrils of smoke spiraled up from the Atrean’s burning skin.
With another blood-chilling scream, he jerked the ring off his finger and flung it away from him as he cradled his injured hand to his chest. The Seal twisted and turned, toppling through the air in a high arch…and dropped right into Deucalion’s upturned palm.
The fray in the center aisle of the nave ceased at once, and time itself seemed to stand still as Deucalion blinked once, twice, and curled his hand into a tight fist around the ring.
“It’s over,” he said, his voice deeper than usual as it rang throughout the cathedral. “The Morphlings are free.”
As one, the Morphlings turned, their obsidian gaze’s pinned on Asa.
“No!”
Backing away, the Atrean threw his hands out, emitting a burst of icy wind that parted the guards but didn’t slow them. Obviously realizing his sway over the elements couldn’t help him now, he cried out in rage as he spun and sprinted for the lone door behind the pulpit.
He had almost made it when a Morphling appeared in front of him, seemingly from thin air, and spun him back toward the alter. A feral, primordial growl rent through the air as he grabbed the Atrean by the back of the neck and jerked him forward, skewering him through the middle with a long, serrated dagger. Asa choked and gurgled, his breath wheezing through his blood-stained lips as he crumpled to the floor.
A deafening silence fell over the room, all eyes on the lifeless Atrean who had aided in causing so much misery, suffering, and contention.
“I should have stopped them,” Deucalion murmured. “I could have.”
Resting her hand on his elbow, Aeryn waited for him to meet her gaze before she spoke. “No. They’ve been controlled for far too long. This was their right.”
“Besides,” Vane added as he approached them, “blood is a good color on him.”
There definitely wasn’t any love lost there.
“He was an asshole, but he was still my brother.” Standing on the other side of Vane, Cypher rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at his brother’s body with an unreadable expression. “I feel like I should be more upset about this than I am.”
Men.
Strong, powerful arms surrounded her waist, and a warm wall of muscle pressed against her back. “You were very brave, nikka.”
She didn’t think she’d been brave, but it was pointless to argue. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
The Crimnians milled around the pulpit, rubbing their recently freed wrists, while the Morphlings stood guard over the smugglers and dealers. “What should we do with them?” one of the Morphs asked, his question directed to Deucalion. “Do we kill them?”
“What?” Deucalion jerked his head up and sputtered. “No. No, don’t kill them.”
“Let them go,” Vane instructed. “I have a feeling they’re not going to cause any more trouble. Right?”
After some nods and mumbled assents, the Crimnians’ captors filed out of the cathedral, their heads hung and a general mood of defeat hanging over them.
A group of six Morphlings approached, their movements wary and their eyes cautious. “What will happen?” the one on the far right asked, his gaze going to Deucalion’s closed fist. “What will you do with the Seal?”
“Free the rest of your people,” Deucalion answered without hesitation. “When that’s done, I’ll find a way to destroy it.”
Pandora existed for just such reasons. Many of the artifacts contained within the compound resided there because there was no known way to destroy them. The Seal of Solomon was far too dangerous to simply hide away, though, and Aeryn vowed she’d help her friend find a way to undo it.
Gods, she was so tired. Her legs shook, and her head felt too heavy for her shoulders. Each breath was shallower than the last, and the buzzing had started in her ears again. She just wanted to sleep.
“Aeryn! Aeryn, wake up. Come on, nikka, open your eyes.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen until she peeled her eyelids open and found herself staring up at the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral.
“That’s it,” Xavian praised. “Stay with me. You’re going to be fine. I promise, nikka. I’m going to make everything better, okay? Just keep looking at me.”
She tried to do as he asked, battling against the sweet siren call of sleep.
“Do you have it?” he asked someone behind him.
“Right here.” Katana appeared and knelt at his side, brandishing a long, silver rod with a ball on the end.
“Aeryn? Aeryn, open your eyes. Stay with me.”
“Hmm?” She struggled again to do as he asked. “What…”
“This?” He held the rod up so she could see it better. “It’s a pulsewave. It won’t hurt, but it’ll short-circuit the nanites.”
Understanding dawned through the fog that surrounded her. “Yes,” she slurred. “You…mine. Together.”
Thankfully, Xavian understood what she meant, because he
passed the rod back to Katana, clenched his right fist, then opened it to reveal a tiny red flame that swayed and flickered against his skin. Leaning over her, he placed his hand on her chest, holding the fire over her heart as he rubbed their lips together in a soft, tender kiss.
“I love you, Aeryn. Everything is going to be okay now.”
Heat exploded in her chest like a thousand bursting suns, causing her to cry out as she bowed up from the hard floor. When the pain subsided, warmth and light spread through her body, and for the first time, she truly understood the meaning of nikka. It was like sunlight and joy, happiness and bliss. It was warm and heavy, a sensation that filled her to even the deepest parts of her soul.
As the flame extinguished, the energy slowed to a steady, comforting thrum, lulling her into deep, dreamless sleep.
EPILOGUE
“You ready for this, brother?”
Xavian paced back and forth in the grand foyer of the commander’s home, his hands shaking, and his heart galloping inside his chest. He’d was ready. He’d been ready. There was nothing in all the universe he wanted more than he wanted Aeryn Chase.
“I’m ready.”
Their friends and family gathered in a loose circle, all whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Xavian barely noticed them, his attention constantly straying toward the right staircase as he waited for his mate to appear.
From the moment he’d claimed Aeryn in the cathedral, everything had changed. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to love her more than he already had, but he’d been wrong. She consumed his every waking thought. Every decision he made was with her in mind—her safety, her happiness. He’d walk through fire and capture the stars if it made her smile.
It had taken them three days to find transport for the Crimnian captives and ensure they all returned home safely. Nothing much would change for them, not among their own people anyway, but at least they now knew they had allies should they need them.
