Chosen by Fate

by Virna DePaul

  “I made sure he died slowly and painfully, Wraith, but I didn’t actually kill him. I wanted to. Desperately. But I . . .” He swallowed hard and Wraith stood, a sudden strength thrumming through her body.

  “But what?” she prompted.

  “I didn’t want to touch him. If you touched me, if you looked at me, I didn’t want you to even think about the fact that I’d touched a man who’d caused you so much pain. Is that stupid?”

  Moving purely on instinct, she walked closer to him. She lifted her fingers to his lips and covered them. They felt soft and hard, warm and cool, as complex in nature as the man they belonged to.

  “Caleb . . .” she said softly.

  His eyes blazed above her fingers.

  “I don’t find that stupid at all. I’d heard he was captured sometime during the War, but I . . . but I never knew for sure. Thank you for telling me. For caring enough to avenge me. For bringing me back from the dead.” She skimmed her fingers over his mouth and across his cheeks. His throat. “Now kiss me.”

  Caleb felt like someone had suddenly pushed his head under water and was holding him down so he couldn’t breathe. The blue sparks in Wraith’s eyes had expanded as he looked at her, until the blue had spread throughout her irises. The color glowed and sparkled like a million tiny sapphires, urging him to stay in their cool, crystalline depths.

  Wraith slipped her fingers off his lips, but otherwise remained still. Watchful. Waiting.

  He licked his lips and slowly, so slowly because he was reluctant to look away from her gaze, he lowered his head. His eyes closed the instant his lips touched hers.

  She sighed. Melted into him as if she’d gone boneless. Her body conformed its shape to his, and he gently cradled her, ever mindful of the wound in her side. Her lips sipped at his, retreating and then coming back for more. His tongue followed, tracing her lips with a reverent skim until he realized she was smiling.

  As if she was happy.

  It almost brought him to his knees.

  Because he knew what she was doing. She wasn’t kissing him off. She was saying good-bye. Not because she intended to go anywhere, necessarily, but because she was no longer fighting what she was or what was going to happen to her. More than anything, her acceptance scared him.

  He pulled back, wanting to argue with her and shake her until she agreed to fight. To try something instead of just waiting for death to claim her. But her expression was one of utter contentment, and he choked back his words, knowing how precious that must be to her.

  Lifting his hands, he threaded his fingers through her hair. It was still predominantly white, with chocolate brown roots. She closed her eyes as if savoring his touch and tilted her head back, exposing the long, graceful arch of her neck. Her skin had only the slightest blue tinge to it now, and when he bent down to kiss the corner of her mouth, he felt the slight puffs of air as she breathed out. In. Out. In . . .

  “What do you want, Wraith?” he asked, suddenly wanting to give her everything. “If I could give you one thing, anything in the world, what would you ask for?”

  Her eyelids drooped, as if they were weighed down, and he felt his own lids getting heavy. Her hand caressed his face, drifted down his chest, then moved to his groin. He sucked in a breath when she cupped him through his pants.

  “I want you to make love to me, Caleb. Tenderly. Slowly. With all the patience in the world. Not because you’re afraid of hurting me, but because you never want the moment to end. Just like me.”

  Her tone, her words, her meaning—they all slammed into him like an out-of-control locomotive.

  Without further thought, he picked her up, still mindful of her wound. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her hand on his shoulder. As she stared at him with her beautiful blue eyes, Caleb couldn’t help thinking this must be a dream, and he prayed he’d never wake up. That he could keep her here with him, lost in this moment for an eternity.

  Without taking another step, he kissed her again, using his lips and tongue to give her what she wanted, exactly how she’d asked for it. Tenderly. Slowly.

  But he found he couldn’t maintain his patience for very long.

  He wanted her naked, her flesh against his, her hands on his body. Sliding and sucking and nibbling each other for hours until they were both exhausted but still unable to stop. Putting her down on the bed, he slipped her out of the loose sweats and T-shirt he’d dressed her in. Keeping his palms flat, he started at her shoulders and smoothed his hands along her body in everexpanding circles. Over her breasts. Her stomach. Her hips and thighs and calves. They were still riddled with scars, but he barely noticed them. They were normal. They were . . . Wraith.

  Soon, his mouth hovered over her soft, warm core and he buried his face there, breathing her in. Her fingers tangled in his hair, but she didn’t rush him. Now it was his tongue he used to pleasure her. Flicking and curling around her pink, dewy flesh so slowly he wondered if he was trying to drive himself insane. The thought led to another, and rather than feeling an ounce of apprehension, he savored the rightness of it.

  Pushing himself up and over her, he straddled her with his knees on either side of her hips. She looked up at him with the same small smile on her lips, although her eyes were mere slits now, her eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to keep them open.

  “Do you trust me, Wraith?” he asked.

  She hesitated, then breathed, “More than anyone or anything.”

  “Then will you let me have you? In a way I’ve never had another female before?”

  In response, she shifted until he no longer hemmed her in, spread her thighs wide and lightly clasped his sides to pull him in close.

  The tip of his dick unerringly found her, and he hissed at the first contact of turgid flesh with moist fire. She bit her lip and finally closed her eyes, her face going taut as he pushed himself into her, past the muscles that hugged him, a little at a time. He took her so slowly, so carefully, that by the time he was fully seated inside her, he was sweating bullets and his arms were shaking. Carefully, he bent his arms until he was lying fully on top of her, his face close to hers.

  He didn’t move. Her eyes were closed now, her expression tight with pleasure. He closed his eyes, too, and then he tranced himself. He opened himself, everything he was and ever wanted to be, to the female lying in his arms.

  He felt the peace first. The silent lull of time, as if he was being rocked to sleep by the arms of his ancestors. They were silent now, and all he heard was the light breeze of the Otherworld around him. They were alone in that middle place, with only each other to keep themselves anchored. Slowly, his skin began to tingle, and he savored the familiar pleasure of being inside her, this female who was so strong yet so needy at the same time. Needy for him.

  He waited. Waited. Then he began rocking his hips softly. Withdrawing just slightly before pushing back into her. Doing it again and again, with each thrust pulling back farther and farther and returning deeper and deeper.

  Soon, he felt his pleasure spike. Knew when Wraith’s did, too, by the way her body suddenly bowed beneath his. He opened his eyes and stared at her. Her mouth opened, and he heard her labored pants for air, as well as the tiny sound of fear she made.

  “Caleb!”

  “It’s okay, Wraith,” he soothed. “It’s just us. Sharing the pleasure we’re feeling. Heightening each other’s as well as our—” He bit back his words as his hips moved forward, driving his cock deeper than he’d ever been inside her. Lava began to flow through his veins, burning him up inside with enough pleasure that he welcomed the fire and knew she did, too. Because he was feeling exactly what she was feeling, and she was feeling what he was. “Oh . . . God . . .” he groaned.

  “It’s too good. Oh God, Caleb, too . . .” she moaned.

  He blinked and tried to focus on Wraith. He didn’t want her to be afraid, but his hips moved faster, and the sensations built on one another until he knew he was pounding her into the mattress, an
d he didn’t want to stop . . . didn’t want to stop . . .

  “. . . stop! Don’t stop, Caleb.” It was Wraith’s voice, and he suddenly became aware that as heavy as his thrusts were, she was countering them, moving her hips, pushing up toward him, keeping pace without faltering. The smile was back on her face, dazzling him with its intensity, and when the world exploded, taking the sun and stars with it, all he could think was, “I can’t live without this. I can’t live without her.”

  He didn’t know how much time passed before he finally roused himself enough to prop up on one elbow. Immediately, he saw the blood staining the sheets, her side, and his own. “Oh shit!” He leaped up, horrified, and got down on his knees to check her injury. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about—”

  Wraith’s eyes were closed, and her head turned to the side when she muttered, “If you apologize again, you’re going to really piss me off, Caleb.” She yawned. “And since I really want you to do that again soon, I’d rather sleep than get mad, okay?”

  He shook his head, then couldn’t believe it when she actually did fall asleep. He finished tending to her wound, cursing the whole time, then covered her with a sheet. Stalking to the bathroom, he washed his hands and braced his arms on the sink to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

  That had been life-altering, and he knew exactly why. He’d given Wraith what she’d wanted and what he’d wanted, as well. He’d made love to her.

  He loved her, damn it. And what did he do now? There was no treatment for what ailed her. No medicine. No one to beg, bribe, or threaten to ensure her safety. Except . . .

  The Goddess Essenia, he thought. He’d prayed to her just like everyone else had on occasion, but he’d never tried to seek her out. Didn’t even know if that was possible. But he of all people believed in the spirits of the Otherworld, the place Essenia was thought to inhabit. If he could journey there, somehow meet the Goddess with his ancestors’ help, maybe he could do what he’d always been meant to.

  Heal.

  Heal Wraith, and in doing so, heal her body and her soul, and fulfill whatever purpose the earth had contemplated when it had birthed her just over ten years ago.

  He returned to the bedroom to check on Wraith and saw she was still sleeping. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about his hopes or not. Then he heard the heavy knocks at his door.

  Cursing, he swiftly exited the bedroom and closed the door. Even before he could reach the front door, however, he heard Dex. “O’Flare. Wraith. Open up! Please!”

  Caleb’s brows shot up. Please? From Dex Hunt? Something was seriously wrong.

  Throwing open the door, Caleb didn’t bother asking questions, but simply waited for Dex’s words. He knew from the look on the were’s face that it was going to be bad, but he couldn’t have anticipated how bad.

  “We’ve got trouble. Mahone called. Knox and Felicia were attacked.”

  “Shit,” Caleb thought, but he took comfort in Dex’s words. Attacked, not killed.

  “That’s not all, O’Flare,” Dex warned. “According to Knox’s brother, your ex, the feline princess, isn’t to be trusted. Zeph implied that she might have something to do with the attack on Wraith. That something might be bogus about this whole mission. Her showing up last night seems to weigh heavily in that direction.”

  Caleb didn’t bother arguing with Dex. He had no reason to doubt his words, and he’d determine for himself whether Natia had anything to do with the attack on Wraith. If she had . . . His fury wasn’t a slow burn, but a hot flash that engulfed him. He’d always felt affection for Natia, but nothing would keep him from exacting vengeance if the feline had knowingly placed Wraith in jeopardy.

  Through his dark thoughts, Dex’s words continued to bleed through.

  “. . . that happened last night, I took Lucy to another hotel, as well. Just to be safe. I put her to bed. And then I slept out on the couch. When I . . . when I woke up this morning to check on her . . .” The were covered his face with his hands and rubbed at his eyes. He was shaking. Being eaten alive by emotions that he plainly wore on his sleeve, when just yesterday, Dex would rather have died than admit he felt them at all.

  Caleb grabbed his arm and shook him, foregoing compassion in favor of need. “Where’s Lucy, Dex?”

  Dex dropped his hands, the grief on his face so raw he might as well have been bleeding from his eyes the way Mahone had been in that warehouse. “She’s gone.” As Caleb watched, the grief etching Dex’s features gradually morphed into something darker. Something violent. “She’s gone and I have no idea how she got out or who took her. Lucy’s gone.”

  A scream erupted behind Caleb, but it was muffled by the bedroom door.

  Wraith.

  Throwing off the shock of Dex’s words, Caleb bolted for the bedroom door and threw it open. The bed was empty, the sheets still stained with remnants of Wraith’s blood. He sensed Dex behind him.

  The were muttered, “What the . . .”

  Another scream pierced his ears. Swiftly, Caleb ran to the bathroom and came to an abrupt stop in the doorway. Wraith was standing naked in front of the mirror. The sheet she had wrapped around herself was pooled at her feet. In the mirror, her expression was one of complete and utter horror. Her eyes met Caleb’s, but he couldn’t tell what she was feeling based on her expression.

  He didn’t have to.

  The blue in her eyes was gone and the film that had once covered them was back.

  And that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Her hair. Her skin. All the traces of humanity she’d been slowly acquiring over the past few days had disappeared.

  Wraith was back.

  And right now, she didn’t look like she wanted to kill herself.

  She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the entire world, him and Dex included.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  As Lucy stood in the alley behind a small medical clinic, gasping from the painful aftereffects of teleportation, she glanced at the vampire, Jesmina, beside her. “Thank you for your help. I think.”

  Jesmina shrugged. “You won’t be thanking me once the were finds out how you tricked him.”

  The thought of Dex’s anger when he found her gone made her straighten, then shiver, but she tried to push past it. “You mean, how we tricked him. You told me what room to ask for, then teleported in to get me, remember? And Dex isn’t my keeper.”

  “But he’s your lover?”

  Stiffening, Lucy studied Jesmina closely, but her expression was blank. So blank she knew the vamp’s question was based on anything but idle curiosity. “Only because he was being nice.”

  Jesmina looked stunned, then laughed so long and so hard that Lucy flushed. “I mean . . . we aren’t . . . Oh, you know perfectly well what I meant! You know what the feline heat can drive felines to do, after all.”

  “Yes. Far more than taking a were for a lover when you normally wouldn’t. But I told you that based on the information I uncovered from my friend. With respect to the feline rapes, you’re the one who assumed I was right.”

  “My assumption is logical,” Lucy said. “You recognized Natia as someone who’s had contact with your friend. If you’re right about what he’s been doing, what they’ve been doing, then the felines are faking being raped.” She shook her head. “I can’t say which would be worse, you being right or wrong. As part feline, I’d like to think I wouldn’t fake being raped, but if that meant freedom from the heat . . .” Lucy shrugged. Inside, however, she cringed. Despite the drugs she’d been given, she remembered everything that had happened earlier, including how wasted and out of control she’d been. It had been like she was two people—the one stumbling and stammering, oblivious that anything was wrong. And the one watching from the sidelines, knowing she was going to hate herself when the drugs wore off.

  That had begun happening just as Dex had been dealing with the shape-shifter outside. She’d heard the vampire try to talk to Dex about Natia before Caleb had cut her off. Had remem
bered that fact as they’d sat in the bathroom while Dex and Caleb argued about what to do about Wraith. Lucy had questioned the vampire about Natia, and the vampire had told her she believed the feline rapes weren’t rapes at all, but a desperate last resort by feline females to gain control over their own bodies. Stunned, Lucy had extracted her promise not to tell the others, and for her own reasons, the vampire had decided to play along. They’d devised a plan for her to get Lucy away from Dex sometime after Caleb had brought Wraith back to life.

  Once they’d checked in to the appropriate room, Dex had tucked her into bed, and tears had filled her eyes when he’d gently kissed her good night. Because she’d been relieved but still worried about Wraith, she’d lain awake but had almost forgotten their plans until the vamp had teleported inside her hotel room, scaring the crap out of her. Now, Lucy could only hope the vampire wasn’t lying about the felines and that she hadn’t laid a trap for her.

  The vampire was watching her with a somber expression. “I know a little about desperation myself. Another friend of mine . . . she needed information to save herself but could never get it. Just like you, in some ways.”

  At the vamp’s words, Lucy paused with curiosity and sympathy, but she didn’t have time to draw the vampire’s feelings out. Not right now, anyway. “So this person you were telling me about . . . the one who performs the surgeries . . . ?”

  The vampire sighed. “Alton Maddox. He’s a good man. I’ve known him for years, but he has an unfortunate tendency to talk too much when he drinks. Like you. A few weeks ago, he mentioned he’d been doing some work for the felines. Something that will allow them to have more control over their bodies while at the same time giving him some extra cash for the clinic. I see him with felines all the time. They are his primary patients. But the one in the club, she stood out. Had an air that was different from the others.”

  “The air of royalty, replete with arrogance to spare,” Lucy muttered.

  The vampire laughed. “Not all royals are that arrogant, but I suppose more are than not. Anyway, I was curious, but he wouldn’t say more. Only he had me over for dinner the day after the first rape occurred. When the story came on the telly, I could tell something was wrong. He was acting so strangely that I, well . . . I snuck a peek into his mind, just for a few seconds”—she rushed to explain, obviously aware that mind reading was prohibited by the Humanity Treaty—“but long enough to hear his thoughts. He was thinking that rape was the price she’d had to pay to gain her freedom. That was all I got before he sensed me and . . .” She shrugged. “He’s refused to see me since.”