Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three)

by Hales, Wendy S.

  After that conversation, it became easier for Mick to seek aid when it came to Johnny’s Elven side. When other Hulven males started to become fathers, they needed to know it was okay to ask for help. Mick took Conlon’s words to heart.

  Johnny had loved the sword. Stacey told him he even slept with it every night. Mick couldn’t wait to start on a dagger. His son showed the stealth of Mick’s assassin bloodline. So did Umbrae’s smallest Elven daughter Erisa. Warriors usually fought in units or pairs. Assassins worked alone or with a spotter. Warriors were strategic, amazing in combat and large scale attacks, hunting rogues and Morsdentes. An assassin used patience, spending as long as needed studying their target to learn patterns of behavior, routines, choosing the best opportunity to strike quickly and efficiently with deadly silence.

  Mick could clash swords, but he knew a warrior would always win that fight. Gathering reconnaissance information, up close and personal kills with a dagger, or tranquilizing for capture—those were the fights in which Mick and the other members of the Sicarius bloodline excelled. Mick also had a knack with explosives like a warrior. He often wondered if his mother had come from a warrior bloodline … or mining.

  “You miss her already?” Umbrae’s question interrupted his thoughts.

  Mattie’s mother had summoned Mattie. She’d denied the psychic pull of the queen as long as she could until her mother had increased the pressure, using the cumulative energy of the entire colony. Mattie had left a few days ago.

  “Yes.” Mick cared for his cousin, appreciated the countless hours Umbrae had invested building Mick’s mental shields against his father. Social conversation did not come naturally to him. Of all his cousins, Umbrae understood that best.

  She nodded and Mick smiled as her children raced into the playground where Johnny already played. A troop of nannies followed the youngsters. Umbrae pulled up the spot of grass next to him. “So…” Umbrae hedged, unlike her normal way of bluntness. “I heard Mattie is heir to her mother’s throne.”

  Now he understood Umbrae’s hesitation. Since Hans and Umbrae had been partners before she’d had children, it didn’t surprise him that Umbrae knew of the nuptial contract between Hans and Mattie. Why would Umbrae ask him about it now? “She is to be queen … someday.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel lucky for every minute she spends with me, but I know my place in her life is limited and possibly temporary. She is my friend first, my love—I mean lover—second.” His unintentional slip had Umbrae narrowing her eyes at him; thankfully she let it pass and changed the subject to the children.

  In truth, Mick felt Mattie’s absence like a hollow pit in his stomach. What if this trip to her colony ended up being the one when her mother forced her mating and handed down the crown? What if Mick never got to hold her again? Every time Mattie returned to her colony, Mick endured the same fears, yet every time she returned to him. He tried to remain positive by tracking his son and Umbrae’s son Harmen as they raced on the grass. The nannies’ voices joined two of Umbrae’s little girls, who clapped and cheered for the boys. Erisa silently evaluated the boys’ movements, the other girls’ enthusiasm, everything.

  “She’s going to be ...” Umbrae started.

  “Deadly.” He finished her sentence. Umbrae nodded, her lips lifted in a proud grin. Mick could not agree more. Tiny Erisa would be a force unto herself one day.

  “She sneaks up on me and Enlil all the time. I swear she almost shadowed yesterday. The moniker ‘ghost’ fits her to a tee.” Umbrae chuckled under her breath.

  Johnny was older than Umbrae’s quads. If Erisa showed signs of shadowing, chances were Johnny would be very soon also. He tucked the thought away. Perhaps Eros could guide him on how to address child shadowing. At least Umbrae’s bloodmate could still see Erisa if the girl shimmered and vanished. Neither Mick nor Stacey had that ability should Johnny do it. Stacey’s maternal bond might give her an advantage. Mick felt twinges of his slowly growing paternal bond to Johnny. When Johnny was older, Mick could take a few ounces of Johnny’s blood to complete the father/son connection. Right now he had to be content with the one-way bond Johnny had to Mick from feedings.

  The first time Johnny had sent happy baby images into Mick’s psyche, he’d nearly shielded against them. After spending so much time learning to block against the bonds of Osiris, it still felt odd to remain open to anyone, even his son.

  “Umbrae?” Her gray eyes turned to him in question. “I’m concerned about my mental shields.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “They are exceptionally strong. You’ve worked hard on them.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Johnny has bonded to me through his feedings. How do I ensure I’m blocking against Osiris’s bond without compromising Johnny’s bond to me?” Mick felt sure he’d missed many things his son telepathically sent, and the things he received filled him with both joy and fear for his safety. Could Osiris pick up on the occasional things Johnny sent him? He knew she could hear the tremble in his voice.

  Umbrae’s brows furled. “Honestly, I don’t know. It will be a relief when Osiris is destroyed, for all of us.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Umbrae had been kidnapped once and almost killed another time by Osiris.

  “You ready?” Aymee asked Umbrae.

  “Ready.” Umbrae stood. “Mind them.” She called to her three nannies sitting on the opposite side of the playground chatting with Johnny’s nanny Meg.

  Mick looked over his shoulder where Stacey, Jess, and Aymee stood. Stacey smiled at him. “That goes for you too.” Her gaze shifted to Johnny.

  Sure, Meg was present, but the fact that Stacey entrusted Johnny to Mick’s care was amazing. Mick opened his mouth to thank her, but Cassie limped up, holding her stomach, her dark skin pallid. Mick knew that look. It’s happening. Sad knowledge ripped him open before Cassie could even utter a word.

  “Fates, what’s wrong?” Stacey had to practically catch Cassie as she stumbled.

  “Smmned.” Her words were unintelligible to everyone but Mick. He only understood it because he expected it.

  Mick turned back to his son before the females could see his expression. “Summoned,” he clarified.

  Cassie panted hard, her next word clear to everyone. “Mating.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Stacey snapped. “Hasn’t the queen done enough to hurt you? Now she’s making you watch the male you love mate another?” Mick could feel his shoulders slump. “Sorry, Mick. That was … thoughtless of me.” Her hand landed on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

  “It’s okay. I knew it would happen eventually.” He blinked the moisture from his eyes. Incredibly, Johnny dropped the ball he’d been playing with, toddled over, and climbed into Mick’s lap, wrapping his arms around Mick’s neck … giving comfort. Holding the back of his son’s head to his shoulder, Mick marveled at the offered innocent compassion of his son’s empathy. Johnny needs his father to be strong. Mick pushed the hurt away and focused on the joy of his child in his arms.

  “Meg …” Stacey received a nod from her nanny in response. Stacey kissed Johnny’s cheek next to Mick’s head. Her scent still affected him, yet he had zero inclination to act on his body’s response. They were parents, friends, nothing more. “I’m going with Cassie. You and Meg are in charge of Johnny, okay?”

  “You can’t go,” Conlon said, joining Stacey and Mattie.

  They’re voices trailed off as they helped Cassie get to Conlon’s house. “Bullshit, Conlon,” Stacey snapped. “I’m not sending her into a hornets hive alone.”

  “Queen Aleen won’t let you into the colony without invitation,” Conlon bit back. “Use your head, Stacey.” Mick felt his grin lift despite everything. Oh, yeah … Stacey and Conlon were a perfect match. Mattie mating. His grin faded as Johnny squirmed, and Mick offered his wrist to his hungry son.

  Chapter Twenty

  Conlon could feel his resolve crumbling as Stacey stood arguing with him in the ha
llway while Cassie waited in their bedroom. “Please ….” That got him. Stacey had never said please for anything.

  “I’ll try. But Stacey, we really need to discuss … that thing.” He was fucking hopeless when it came to broaching the subject of bloodmating with her.

  Stacey gave him a knowing look. “You know, if you’d simply ask …” She opened the door to the bedroom and he followed. Was that all she’d been waiting for? Fates, Conlon was an idiot sometimes.

  Conlon pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number Mattie had given him in case of emergency. A series of clicks connected the above-ground satellite dish of the colony and re-routed the call to the palace thousands of feet beneath the surface. A soft female voice answered. “Queen Della Aleen’s chamber. May I help you?”

  “This is Conlon Einar of the SOSC. I’m trying to reach my partner, Princess Matalina Aleen.” Partnering was important within the Tellus culture, so Conlon put an emphasis on the word.

  “Please hold.” The line went silent before Conlon could protest. “The Queen will speak with you, sir.”

  The next voice was one he’d recognize anywhere. Queen Aleen had been a friend of his mother’s for centuries. “Conlon, it is so wonderful to hear from you. What is so important that you would intrude on Matalina’s pre-mating sequester?”

  Conlon had known Queen Della his entire life. He respected her, but right now, she pissed him off. “I apologize for bothering you at such a busy time, Your Majesty. I just heard about the mating from Princess Cassiopeia. Since Matalina is my partner in the SOSC and our families have a long relationship, might you allow my bloodmate-to-be and I to escort Cassiopeia and attend the ceremony?” He sucked at the formal speaking shit.

  The Queen sat silent on the line. Her cordial response felt genuine. “I will have the tunnel ready for your arrival. Your mother would be so happy to see you bloodmated, Conlon. The Fates blessings to you.” She didn’t wait for him to return the salutation before releasing the line.

  “Thank you, Conlon.” Cassie sighed with relief and leaned back into the chair next to his bed, where Stacey sat perched. In procuring an invitation to the wedding, he’d assured Queen Della that Cassie would come by his escort. The queen had released Cassie of the summons based on Conlon’s reputation of honor.

  Stacey stood and rubbed her hands together. “I’m picking your dress. If you have to go, you’re going in style. That means you too, Conlon.”

  His eyes lifted to the photo she’d taken, developed and framed on the bedroom wall of him naked. In the last few weeks, she’d taken over his basement sparring area and turned it into an office/darkroom/painting area. Stacey’s artistic abilities ranged to more than her tattoo. And it seemed Conlon naked was her new obsession.

  “Nice picture.” Cassie chuckled, following his inadvertent line of sight.

  Conlon glared at an unrepentant Stacey. She snorted. “You know, he actually tried to take it down once.”

  Her cell phone rang on the dresser, thankfully saving Conlon from having to hear her regale Cassie with what happened when he moved the photo, only to find it remounted on the outside of the front door when he came home later. Stacey had made her point loud and clear. He returned the photo to the bedroom. Neither of them had said a word to each other about any of it.

  Stacey placed her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. “How much time do we have?”

  Cassie’s expression paled a little at Stacey’s reminder. “With the time difference between here and ho—there … about five hours.”

  Stacey shoved her phone toward Conlon. “It’s one of my attorneys … handle it for me. And if anyone else calls, tell them I’m out.”

  Conlon had “handled” quite a few of Stacey’s calls lately. He knew the idea of replacing Mark broke her heart, though she hadn’t said it. He took the phone. “I’ll let them know you’re retired and to stop calling you.” She scowled, rolled her eyes and turned to Cassie, dismissing him. Damn, she was a pistol … and he loved that about her.

  He closed the door behind him, giving the girls privacy. “Conlon.” The attorney never questioned his authorization to speak on Stacey’s behalf. The mingling of their lives had become as natural as breathing. And yet …

  Conlon paced his living room like an animal caged with the phone to his ear. He’d spent weeks of waiting for Stacey to say the words, to definitively choose him, while being forced to watch Mick’s growing relationship with both Stacey and Johnny. He admired Stacey’s support of Mick through what must be a difficult time, but seeing the two together without yet claiming Stacey for his own … maddening. Maddening to witness them laughing together over Johnny’s antics, cheering when Johnny called Mick “Da” the first time, or flipping a coin over which would feed the child at naptime. Johnny was a lucky boy to have both his parents’ iron-rich and ready to satisfy his anemia.

  Many times he’d nearly asked Stacey to be his bloodmate. “You know, if you’d simply ask …” He thought it had to be her choice, especially since Mick was the father of her child. Conlon found releasing her from his arms every morning after making love to her and holding her through the night more and more difficult as the days lagged on. The need for her blood, the primal call of their bloodmate bond grew harder to deny, and his feral instincts more difficult to control.

  “I’ll let Ms. Winkel know it’s taken care of.” Conlon snapped Stacey’s phone closed, ending the call with a shake of his head. Mick’s apartment was on the fourth floor. Stacey had grumbled about it being “not safe for a child,” but until last night, Conlon had had no idea she’d purchased adjacent land and contracted a home to be built. Was it for Mick? He wondered if Mick knew about the anonymously created, large bank account yet. Stacey had used the SOSC to disguise the money as an unclaimed inheritance from Eros’s deceased brother, who was Mick’s grandfather, Tenebrae.

  The land purchase didn’t really surprise him. Conlon had learned that Stacey’s charities were more diverse than her holdings. It’s not truly giving if you get recognition in return, she had answered when he’d asked why she remained anonymous in everything she did for people. Her generosity was boundless.

  He continued to pace, waiting for the girls to finish up while his desire for Stacey ratcheted up with every minute.

  Cassie floated down the stairs. “Wow,” Conlon blurted.

  The pure silk, light-yellow color of the strapless gown coupled with a necklace of brown topaz made the burnt orange of Cassie’s eyes undeniably brighter. The lightweight material clung from her breasts to the top curve of her hips and then flowed to her feet. Her hair, worn loose, reached the back of her thighs. It had been straightened and shone under the light of the hallway.

  She smiled. “You’re up, Conlon. Get ready for the fashionista.”

  ****

  “Damn it, Conlon,” Stacey snapped, loving the feel of his arms wrapped around her from behind. His hands were at her breasts and her nipples hardened, betraying her body’s response. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for a mating, remember?”

  His hand went to the zipper of the simple black satin dress she’d just put on. He unzipped it slowly, nipping at her neck; a low growl of demand sent a shiver down her spine. “Then you don’t have time to argue with me.”

  The material pooled at her ankles. “Fine.” She chuckled, leaning over the counter as moisture pooled between her legs. “How are you at a quickie?”

  Conlon pinched her bare bottom and caressed the sting, and spun her around to face him. “Aw, female, you are never to be rushed. You are to be savored.” His lips captured hers as he lifted her to the counter. “Adored.” His lips blazed a trail down her neck. “Lavished.” He took first one then the other of her nipples into his mouth. Slow, lazy circles of his tongue had her fingers buried in his hair, holding him to her. The aching need for him to be inside her had her begging. “What do you want, Leifde?” he growled and moved lower. His breath teased her weeping folds.

  “You’re a de
viant,” her voice purred. Her body became liquid fire with his touch. Every time they made love, the connection between them grew stronger.

  In reward, his tongue lashed her tender bundle of nerves and she cried out. Stacey felt like the receptive canvass to the art of his lovemaking. Her body grew tight with anticipation, lost to the overwhelming sensations he invoked, balanced at the cusp of release. He took her from zero the “right there” effortlessly.

  He stood and grasped the back of her neck. Lips wet from her moisture took hers hard, demanding. The taste of her essence on his tongue was an empowering aphrodisiac to her already swollen libido. He penetrated her with a single hard thrust and Stacey cried out, breaking the kiss. Her womb clenched and heat ignited every nerve ending as he pounded her core. Her climax expanded and burst, leaving her weightless and adrift on a sensory cloud of pulsing, throbbing heaven on earth. Fates, he was a god in the sack.

  She opened her eyes. Conlon had lifted his chin toward the ceiling. His rapid breath sawed past the bloody dentes still fully erupted behind his full, kiss-bruised, punctured lips. Her chest constricted with emotion at the sight of him at his most primal. Why didn’t he ask her? What was he waiting for? She wanted to bloodmate with him, yet they’d danced around the subject since learning Mick was Johnny’s father. Every time they did try to talk about it, they were interrupted.

  His dentes retracted slowly and he gave her a cocked grin. “It is your fault if we are late.”

  Stacey laughed and slapped his chest. “Get off me, you insatiable brute. I need to fix my hair. You better not dribble sperm on my dress either. Your suit is on the bed.”

  He withdrew, laughing. “I’m not wearing a suit.”

  Stacey turned from the mirrored view of the disaster he’d turned her hair into with her hands on her hip. “Yes, you are.” A few strokes with a brush brought her hair under control.

  “Nope.” He pulled a pair of black jeans out of the drawer and slid them up his mouth-watering thighs.