Conception

by Sarah McCarty

  “Is that an order?”

  “Will you obey it?” His thumb pressed lightly on her lower lip.

  “No.”

  “Then it is a request for which I expect an answer.” The pressure increased until her lips parted and his thumb slid within. A thrust of pure desire speared through her center. Her womb clenched and her core softened and dampened in anticipation.

  “I can’t fall under your spell again.”

  Deuce’s nostrils flared and the sharp planes of his face tightened. “There was never a time when you left.”

  He leaned in. She pressed back into the high headboard, the carvings cutting into her back, the small discomfort mingling with the desire, giving it a harder, more pleasurable edge. Dear God, he was potent.

  “Don’t,” she whispered as his hair fell against her, enfolding her in a prison of his scent and her desire.

  He paused. “I just want a taste, Edie mine.”

  She pushed against this chest, the solid wall of muscle pressing into her palms, not giving under her strength. “It won’t be enough.”

  His hair brushed her cheek as he shook his head. His “No, it will not” whispered against her mouth as he fitted his lips to hers. Edge to edge, breath to breath, he matched their mouths as he matched their respirations. In to her out. Out to her in. His energy swept around her, through her, summoning her response. She resisted, shutting her mind, closing her lips. His broad palm slid behind her head, holding her in place as he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue teased her lips, lightly flicking at the corners before stroking along the seam in a clear demand. Around her his power intensified, electrifying her nerve endings. His will made mincemeat of hers as his deep voice whispered in her mind, Come to me.

  Her defenses crumbled with the gentle thrust of his tongue past the seal of her lip. He was seducing her with his thoughts, his touch, his taste. He tasted of heaven and man. Of passion matured to the perfect ripeness. She moaned, opening her mouth to his will, arching into his embrace. He tugged her to him, curving her torso into his, holding her for the thrust of his tongue, imprinting every breath she managed with his essence, claiming her thoughts as his until there wasn’t anything left except the sweet hot ache of desire and the need for him to soothe it.

  “I assume this means she has agreed?”

  The intrusion nudged the corners of Eden’s awareness, demanding something, but she couldn’t focus on what. Not while she savored, for the first time in forever, Deuce’s mouth on hers, the strength of his embrace, the power of his touch. His lips eased away. She couldn’t believe the pathetic little whimper that escaped her control. Part of her was horrified that she was clinging to him, straining against his efforts to pull her down against his chest. The other part, the much more dominant part, just wanted the soothing magic of his mouth on hers again.

  “Be easy, mate.” The murmur echoed in her mind as well as her ears, stroking along her desire. She turned into his chest. Rubbing her cheek against the solid muscle, breathing deeply of his clean woodsy scent. With the softness of down, the agony of unfulfilled desire banked to manageable, fading behind the same wall as her pain, until it hovered just beyond her experience.

  Deuce straightened, taking her with him, his chin brushing her head as he looked to the right.

  “She has just awakened.”

  “You need to ask her now.”

  Eden shrugged off the lingering lethargy and looked toward the door. Bohdan filled the entry, his eyes studying her so intently that she immediately became aware that she was in a bed, locked in an embrace with his brother. Embarrassment chased away desire. She shoved against Deuce. “Let me go.”

  Beneath her hands, his pectorals twitched and for an instant the pain that hovered became real, then disappeared before she finished her gasp.

  “He will not let you go,” Bohdan said calmly as he crossed the room. “You only hurt yourself and him when you struggle.”

  Yeah. Right. Like she could hurt Deuce. His shoulders were so broad, sitting this close, they seemed to stretch forever, and beneath his loose cotton shirt, layers and layers of muscle flexed in a blatant challenge to all who would try. She wrenched again, getting nowhere, but under her hand, that subtle, involuntary tightening happened again, making her pause.

  She reached beneath the sheet and placed her hand on her stomach. The wound was closed with only a rough scar left. She pressed. Nothing happened. No pain. Nothing. Not even a sensation of pressure. Had the nerves been cut? She looked up into Deuce’s face. There was nothing there except calm. She pressed deeper, deep enough that she should be noticing. Deuce caught her hand in his and pulled it away, turning his wrist so her palm faced outward and brought it against his chest, reconnecting them. And she suddenly knew what was happening.

  “You’re blocking my pain, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You promised to stay out of my mind.”

  “To control your pain, I only need to touch the edge. Your thoughts are deeper in.”

  “That’s still invading.”

  “It is a compromise.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It cannot be helped.”

  “Why?”

  Deuce tilted his head back and said with complete seriousness, “It is unacceptable that you suffer.”

  “To whom?”

  Bohdan was the one who answered. “To any of the Chosen.”

  He was very close now, standing by her side, frowning at her and then at Deuce. Eden turned back to Deuce so fast her hair swung out, bouncing into her eyes. She brushed at it impatiently. “Do you feel my pain when you block it?”

  Deuce nudged another stray curl out of her eyes, seemingly fascinated with the way it wrapped around his finger on the recoil. “It is of no consequence.”

  She took that to mean yes. She opened her hands on his chest, stretching her fingers as wide as she could, reaching for patience. “Stop it right now.”

  He released the curl. The mattress dipped as he hitched himself higher, taking her with him. “It is my duty and my pleasure to care for you.”

  He had to be in her mind to be blocking her pain, but she couldn’t detect anything, which scared the living daylights out of her. One more person in her head and she’d go insane. “I appreciate the consideration, but you need to stop it.”

  His smile was a slow, satisfied stretch of his lips, completely masculine in nature. And it called to everything feminine in her, with a force as scary as his ability to invade her mind. She knew she would have to fight Deuce to move forward with her plan, knew she’d have to kill her grandfather to secure her daughter’s safety, but she had never planned on having to fight herself. She pushed against him. She got nowhere. He kept her locked to his side with the weight of his arm, as he shrugged. “The decision is mine.”

  He hadn’t been this autocratic when they were dating. Eden glanced at Bohdan. “Is he always this unreasonable?”

  “Caring for my mate is not unreasonable,” Deuce countered before Bohdan could answer. He wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her a little to the right so she half-sat on his lap. The heat from his body felt so good, she didn’t resist, just rested her cheek against his chest while she tried to figure out what to do. Both of his arms came around her immediately. And even though she knew it was a false illusion, for the first time in a year, she felt safe.

  And there was the catch. She needed to take care of herself. She couldn’t go back to being blindly stupid—letting other people make her decisions and just trusting that they were right. She had a daughter to protect. She pushed away from the seductive comfort he offered, and reached the barrier of his arm before she expected. Her head whipped back then forward. The room spun to the left. A cold, sick wave of nausea welled from deep within.

  “Deuce?”

  His “Yes?” came from far away. Her vision blurred, tendrils of darkness crept in, blocking out the light. Eden dug her nails into his forearm as she fought the overwhel
ming weakness, too scared to answer. With a jarring thrust, he was there in her mind. Incredibly powerful. She tried to block him as he roved through her thoughts, emotions. To no avail. He was always one step ahead of her, a gliding alien presence going where he willed with no thought to her preference.

  “Bohdan?”

  She wasn’t sure if Deuce said his brother’s name or thought it.

  I am here. And he was, less intrusively, but there. She thought her head would explode from the pressure.

  Relax. Bohdan whispered the soft mental command.

  Eden grabbed her skull and squeezed, putting everything she had into expelling them. “Get out of my head.”

  A shot of white-hot agony nearly split her brain in two.

  Immediately, the pressure faded. In the wake of the debilitating pain came a crippling weakness. She couldn’t support her own weight. Deuce caught her, cupping her head in his hand, holding her to him as she battled unconsciousness. Something hot and moist pooled on her upper lip. Her hand shook as she wiped it away. She knew what it was before she looked. Blood. She was bleeding the way she always did when she expended too much mental energy.

  “You are very strong.” Bohdan handed her a handkerchief.

  She took it and pressed it to her nose. “Not strong enough.”

  “To block us?” Bohdan raised his eyebrow at her before shaking his head. “No.”

  Deuce lowered her to the bed. The mattress, softer than his hard body, didn’t provide the same comfort. He squatted beside the bed, stroking his fingers over her skull while his gaze searched her face. Pain faded until even the memory was gone. She was so tired that she couldn’t muster the strength to complain. If he wanted to feel like a Mack truck had just driven into his brain, that was his problem. Her hand fell to her side, the handkerchief forgotten.

  “She will not survive that again,” Bohdan pointed out as if he were talking about nothing more serious than the weather.

  “I know.” Deuce took the handkerchief from where it had fallen and folded it before pressing it against her nose.

  “We will need her cooperation,” Bohdan said over her head.

  Eden grabbed for the handkerchief. “I can wipe my own nose.” Barely. She was so damn weak. “What do you need my cooperation for?”

  “Without help you are going to die.”

  She suspected she was going to die anyway. “That is not a newsflash. Any clue what’s taking me out?”

  Bohdan handed her a clean handkerchief. “You do not have enough red blood cells to supply your organs.”

  A flicker of hope she’d thought long abandoned snuck past her defenses. She took an extra moment to wipe her upper lip. “You’re saying all I need is a transfusion?”

  “If it were that simple it would already have been done.” Deuce took the handkerchief from her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder as he wiped carefully at her face. Anger simmered around him in an invisible field.

  She took the opportunity to put a little space between them. She got as far as the length of his fingers. “Then what are you saying?”

  “Your body chemistry has been systemically altered.” The smooth linen tickled her lips before Deuce pulled it away.

  “To heal you I need to know how,” Bohdan added with his soothing calm.

  “So you want to draw blood?” She stuck her arm out. “Run amok.”

  Bohdan was shaking his head before she finished. “Although I have my suspicions, I need to know how it was done.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I could tell you if I remembered.” There had been too many experiments over the months. Too many mysterious liquids injected to sort it all out.

  “You do not need to remember.” Deuce touched her temple. Even that slight touch had her weakened body wanting to lean into him, to let him take over for just a little while. “The memories are in here.”

  “I need your permission to view them.” Bohdan explained very gently. Too gently.

  “View them? As in sticking your mind into mine again?” Revulsion tore through her weakness, giving her the strength to resist. She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  Strands of hair bounced into her eyes. Deuce’s hand met hers, his fingers entwining with hers, catching the frustration in her gesture, softening anger to affection, his fingertips lingering on her face after hers fell to her side.

  “You will.”

  She snatched the handkerchief out of his grip and crushed it between her fingers

  “No. I won’t.” Nothing could make her go through that again.

  Deuce tilted her face to his with the side of his hand, his thumb resting against her lips. “You will.”

  She jerked her chin. He didn’t let her go, just held her there, her gaze lifted to his will. As if that was going to convince her of anything. She could match him for stubborn any day of the week.

  Instead of reacting, Deuce merely lifted a brow at her. “What choice do you have?”

  She couldn’t, however, fight the truth. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. None. She had no choice. Again. More than she hated knowing that, she hated Deuce knowing it. But hating looking like a total failure before the man she’d once thought to impress didn’t change her options. It just made them harder to swallow. But, swallow them she would. She needed to live to save the baby. Period. Nothing else mattered. Not her ego. Not Deuce’s preferences. Not her grandfather’s obsession with immortality. The only thing that mattered was that she survive long enough to kill Clay Lavery and give her baby a chance at life. Which meant she had to let Bohdan try.

  Inside, the alien “Voice” that had guided her from her prison, and saved her from the Coalition, stirred in protest. She squashed it. Her chances for survival were caught somewhere between slim and none. Even the most insubstantial of opportunities needed to be explored. She met Bohdan’s patient gaze over Deuce’s shoulder with an assurance she didn’t feel. “Do you really think you can fix me?”

  “With enough time and information, I am positive I can.”

  It didn’t take a genius to interpret the glance Deuce shot his brother.

  “But you’re not sure about how much time I have, are you?”

  Bohdan didn’t answer. Deuce’s finger slid down her jaw until he supported her chin in his palm as he stood. “I will ensure he has as much time as he needs.” His eyes were dark, bottomless pools of temptation, drawing her in. Random red lights flickered in the depths, the pattern almost, but not quite coalescing into something she could recognize—understand.

  “Thank you.”

  Inside the “Voice” clawed free of her hold, sending its conflicting message into the mix. Resist.

  She closed her eyes as its power swept through her, seducing her will. Deuce’s grip on her chin tightened. Did he hear it, too? It took all her strength to lift her lids.

  Before her Deuce stood, shoulders squared, legs braced apart, head tipped back in that arrogant challenge that was so much a part of him, reeking of more confidence than she could scrounge on her best day, asking for her trust with the steadiness of his gaze and the surety of his grip. Not by a bat of an eyelash did he indicate anything was amiss. Inside her, the “Voice” fought harder, yelled louder, equally determined to be obeyed. Was the “Voice” that powerful, that she could evade detection, or merely crafty?

  Eden licked her lips, tasting the remnants of Deuce’s touch, the echo of their past flowing through her, full of the subtle nuances that had made their time together magic. The laughter, the love. Oh, how she’d loved him. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, digging into the muscle and bone, needing tangible proof of his strength. She could either trust an amorphous voice in her head or the strength of the emotion she’d once felt for this man. “Do you really think you can do this?”

  “I will not fail.” He was so unbelievably, blessedly, recognizably sure.

  “Thank you.”

  “What bothers you, Edie?” His finger stroked along her jawline s
ending tingles down her spine, weakening her muscles until it was almost impossible to sit upright, dragging the confession past her will.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You will not be alone.”

  She caught the promise and held it tightly as another wave of weariness threatened to drag her under. No. He would never leave her alone. The knowledge wove through the cold, empty hollows of her heart, brightening the dark corners, warming the embers of emotions she’d thought dead.

  “They might not leave you a choice.” Her hand fell from his wrist and her lids grew impossibly heavy. She didn’t want to make decisions. She just wanted to lie down and sleep for the next fifty years. She blinked quickly and tried to widen her eyes. She caught a glimpse of Deuce’s frown before her lids closed again and stayed that way. The comforter rustled as he sat beside her. Instead of an argument, Deuce gave her his support, one hand moving behind her back while the other slid around to the back of her head, completely taking over the responsibility of her weight.

  “You tire.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He stood, taking her with him. The cool air in the room struck her naked flesh as he shifted position, and then he was sitting back on the bed, his chest and thighs offering welcome support for her torso.

  The floorboards creaked, and through slitted lids she saw Bohdan lift the comforter from the bottom of the bed and drape it over her. It felt as heavy as lead, too heavy. It slid to the left and her body wanted to go with it, just flow down the path of least resistance.

  “Just a little more, Edie,” Deuce coaxed.

  She didn’t have it to give him. She was so tired her body ached with the effort to sit upright. His fingers curled around her shoulder, stroking gently on the tops of her breasts. “Relax. Let Bohdan in.”

  She cracked her eye. Bohdan stood by the head of the bed. His dark eyes shimmered in the gloom. Energy reached out from him in a seductive pulse. She should be terrified but there was something enticing about that energy field, something good.

  Deuce bent his head to hers. His breath stirred her hair above her ear, tickling her nerves. “You will let him in, my mate. I will not allow your stubbornness in this matter.”