by Marie Hall
Frenzy slammed his fist into the wall. Anger rolled through his veins. At the position he’d been put into. He clenched his jaw, perfect opportunity wasted. Ten past midnight. The day of her death. He should have done it. Had every intention of taking her. Forcing her into the street after the cat he’d conveniently lost. She should have been run over. He would have swiped the soul and all would be done.
He’d taken off his amulet, just long enough to port by her window, let Cian catch a small glimpse of him. He knew the reaper would run after him, try to find him, maybe even try to pound him to within an inch of his godforsaken existence.
He walked into the kitchen, placing his hands on the countertops and stared at the orange tabby.
His hands shook as the rage built inside him to a dangerous level. He should have taken Eve tonight. Cian was running looking for him, for a ghost that had vanished. It would have been simple. Perfect. And then Cian had glanced at Eve with that wild look of determination. That look that said: ‘nothing will happen to you. Not while I’m around. I swear.’
Frenzy shook his head--memories (always the memories)--they haunted him. Of his Adrianna and that very look he’d flashed her, only to return and find her dead. The horror of that night had become his living nightmare.
He closed his mind and hardened his heart. Eve would die. And by his hand.
Gong. Gong. Gong. The strike of the grandfather clock snapped him from his trance like state. He jerked up and stared at the hands of the timepiece. Witching hour.
With a growl, he swiped his hand, opened the portal and stepped through into his Queen’s chambers. She glanced up. Her multi-colored hair was caught up in a knot, the tips fanned out to resemble the tail end of a bird’s feather. The red and black gleamed like fire and shadow.
Her lips were a deep shade of crimson, her eyes painted moss green, as was the gown tapering to her body. She reminded him of spring.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you ready?”
He ground his jaw and nodded. But not without a sickening twist to his gut. “I am.”
The Morrigan raised a black brow, red lips pressed into a razor thin line. “It’s fifteen past midnight.”
She was asking. Wondering why he hadn’t taken the mark’s life yet. “Cian hasn’t left her side. I haven’t had an opening.”
There was not a flinch or flicker that she’d heard him. But he could feel the gentle prod of her power. She was tasting him, reaching out with her essence, searching for deceit.
Posture relaxed, he eyed her, the force of his gaze screaming that he told truth and not lie, hoping that by sheer force of will she might believe him.
After a tense minute of silence, she crossed her legs and said, “Fine. But I don’t care how small the window of opportunity is; you strike at the earliest possible moment. No more mistakes.” A lashing rain of power punctuated her words, like the sharp nicks of a blade--piercing his face, his flesh.
He counted slowly to ten as the anger snapped inside him like a piston. “There will be no more mistakes.”
The Queen narrowed her eyes, a swirling red beginning to overtake the blue. “See that there aren’t.”
There wouldn’t be. Not anymore.
“Good. Now go before Dagda returns and finds me scheming.”
***
Cian ran all around her block, frantic with worry, searching for Frenzy. Leaving Eve that way, seeing the hurt look in her eyes, it’d almost undone him. It had pierced his heart. But what could he tell her that wouldn’t send her into an immediate panic? Nothing. And so he’d done what he thought right.
He’d followed her and Curtis, waiting in shadow, watching them. Knowing that if Frenzy were going to attack it would be right then in that perfect moment. He’d expected a trap. Nerves alert and high, tense, sure that at any moment death would pounce at her.
But they’d found the cat and walked back inside. He’d closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her heartbeat, determining that it wasn’t flying erratic, that she was safe and he’d continued searching. For nigh unto an hour and still nothing.
It was as if Frenzy had simply vanished. He began to doubt himself. Question whether he’d really seen that flash of red. Or whether it was stress making him see what wasn’t there at all. But how could stress make him feel that tug of the reaper deep in his chest? It had to be real. Maybe it was a test, or simply a reminder, but Frenzy was definitely stalking and letting Cian know that with every chance he got.
A sound, like the gentle tap of wood against wood, caught his attention. He paused, barely breathing.
A quick shuffle. A shallow breath.
He ran like a blur, following the faint noise deep inside a labyrinth of alleyways, then the sound died. The light from the moon cast crazy shadows along the brick exterior as he stopped and watched.
Tap, tap, tap.
He twirled, the sound coming from behind. Disbelief almost choked the air from his lungs. A big squirrel sat on a crate tapping a rotten walnut against the wood. He sighed and the animal glanced up, went stiff for a second, and then took off. Its thick tail whipping through the night like a rust colored flag.
“What’s wrong with me?” He shook his head. Chasing ghosts. Looking for something that wasn’t there. He had to trust his senses. He’d made the right decision leaving earlier to find Frenzy. Now he had to trust himself and head back to her. The reaper was gone, vanished into the dark embrace of night.
He swiped his hand and opened the portal, arriving back at her apartment within seconds. He stayed just out of sight, careful to keep his distance. Eve was too sensitive for him to get any closer to her than across the street. She paced back and forth in her living room for a bit, until finally retiring to her bedroom.
But he felt her as surely as a wick to flame. She buzzed through his veins, an intoxicant to his senses. He clenched his jaw as the first sprinkles of rain fell down around him. A cold wind swept through the bay area. Lightning followed a rolling clap of thunder, filling the night with electrical currents of danger.
No one wandered the streets. Cian had only the howl of wind as company. It was a melancholy opus reflecting his torment.
Rain fell in a drowning deluge. The chill saturated his body and he began to tremble, unable to rip his gaze from the golden drop of light behind the curtain of her window.
Eve was encased in darkness, a lonely silhouette staring out at the world. He could picture her eyes watching the fury of the storm, entranced by the strikes of lightning, protected and safe within the warmth of her apartment.
He felt her everywhere, in his mind, her emotions twining with his own. Her sadness became his; her loneliness bloomed as a thorny rose inside him, gouging and bleeding him dry.
Cian closed his eyes and hunched into the wind. His hair tangled around his head like a charmed cobra, the strands lashing and tearing at his cheek with sharp slaps.
This wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t be happening to her. She was too young. Too full of life. Out of sheer frustration he roared, “Dagda!”
The driving wind ripped the name from out his mouth. More lightning crashed: jagged tears through the navy blue fabric of night.
“What?” A deep, familiar voice punctuated his thoughts.
He twirled, blinking away the deluge. “How can I save her? How?”
Dagda was encased in undulating shadow. They curled around his body, spreading throughout the area. The ebony of his eyes should have remained hidden, he should be a blank face full of darkness, and yet they glowed with earth’s power as he fed off the storm. This was the Earth God and he was in his element.
“Go to her, Cian. You haven’t much time left. Don’t look for shadows. Find her and you’ll save yourself.”
“I don’t want to save myself!” he yelled, the water filled his mouth, nearly making him choke on it. “I don’t care about myself. I need to save her.”
The creeping shadows surrounding the god began to fade, the substance of his body became ephemeral an
d unclear. Dagda’s voice rolled through the wind. “But isn’t that the same thing?”
Then he was gone and Cian knew what to do. The answer became so clear. He’d enjoy these last moments with her, savor them and keep them close. Her love had saved him. And now he’d do the same for her. He’d carry this night with him and in the morning, he’d go and find The Morrigan and trade his life for hers.
Lise had told him no. But Dagda had confirmed it. He’d vowed to save her and he’d meant it. A great burden lifted from his shoulders. She was safe. Finally, he’d figured out a way.
One last look at her darkened window and he let his feet lead him to where his heart had belonged all along.
Eve heard the knock like a resounding boom through her skull, scowling, she stalked to her door.
She gave serious consideration to just not opening it. It was almost one in the morning and the only thing she wanted now was to lay down. She was physically drained, angry, hurt, last thing she wanted was to deal.
So she couldn’t understand the fluttering of the heart, twisting of the gut compulsion to go and open the door. She pulled it open.
There he stood. Her fantasy. Her desire. Almost as if by thinking about him she’d conjured him up.
He was dripping wet, his long multi-hued hair hanging in his face, drops of rainwater falling to a puddle at his feet. His clothes clung to his body like second skin, highlighting the sharp grooves and flat planes of muscle.
Deep blue eyes sparkled with pain and she felt it. For the first time she experienced what it was to feel another’s pain. It was a wrenching entity filling her with a choking sense of loss. Tears filled her eyes at the ferocity of it and her heart responded.
“I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“I have to find out what’s happening between us,” his voice broke with need and unspoken desire.
Her lashes fluttered and liquid heat crashed between her thighs, making her instantly hot and ready. The need was elemental and primitive, surging from some deep recess inside her. It was more than lust, it was ancient and deep, twisting inside her and forcing her to obey.
And she knew she should be mad at him for ditching her the way he had. But she couldn’t. Hadn’t she done the same to him? Whatever was going on between them, she knew, she wasn’t the only one feeling it.
Eve stepped into his arms and from there it was bedlam. She lost herself to the glorious madness.
Cian picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut. A mimic of what they’d done only an hour earlier. Would they finish what they’d started this time? Goddess she hoped so, prayed so.
The scent of rain and salt filled her head, she licked at his exposed neck, sucking and biting. Her hands were frantic as she tried to rip the shirt from him.
He growled, the sound was animalistic and she responded by raking her nails down his back. Hard.
“Eve. Eve,” he whispered in a rush in her ear, running his hand down her hair and dropping to his knees on the ground.
She exposed her neck to him, lost to the liquid heat of passion burning through her veins. He scraped long fangs down her neck, biting, but not piercing the flesh.
She hissed, her skin tingling and sensitive. Her nipples hardened and scraped against the lace of her bra which suddenly felt too confining. Eve moaned when his hand grazed her breast and she wrapped him tighter in her embrace.
“Feels so good,” she whispered.
His fingers were clumsy as he tried to undo the buttons of her shirt. She ran her fingers through his wet hair, scratching the scalp and wriggling her bottom on his blood engorged thickness.
“Rip it, Cian. Tear it off, I don’t care,” she panted. Only knowing the thing needed to come off now.
He fisted the shirt in his hands and tore. Buttons zipped through the air. One landed against her cheek, she barely paused to register the sting. Her body was as soaked as his, a wanton rush of adrenaline hummed through her as she yanked on his shirt.
Then his mouth slammed down on hers, teeth collided and tongues dueled in a kiss of fierce possession. Her head swam with fuzz, her body burned with flames.
Still she yanked on his shirt, but it was so wet it hardly budged at all.
“Off!” she exploded with frustration and pulled back to try and somehow shuck him out of the thing.
“Forget it, Eve.” He hooked his finger behind the clasp of her bra and yanked, it snapped off. She pulled her arms out of the straps and threw the bra behind her head, where it landed she didn’t care.
She pressed her breasts flat against the freezing wetness of his shirt. The combination of heat and cold had shivers traveling down her spine.
He lowered his head, grabbing one breast and beginning to knead, while his tongue flicked at the nipple of the other. The cold leather against the warmth of her skin had goose bumps running a race down her arms.
She wished he’d take the things off. But it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not while he was touching her and looking at her with dark heat in his eyes. Maybe later.
A grunt fell from her lips as pleasure tightened its hold inside her. Blood rushed through her veins. She wanted him, everything he had to give and nothing would stop her this time.
To ease the ache building in her loins, she rubbed herself against his thigh.
His tongue circled her nipple, the heat of his mouth made her jerk in response. He twisted the other nipple between his fingers and she screamed, her mind and body exploding with sharp bursts of warm pleasure. A heaviness settled between her thighs, she needed to be filled, possessed.
“Oh, Cian. Now,” she said, as she somehow managed to unzip his jeans. The velvet steel of his shaft almost leaped out at her. Her fingers grazed the warm flesh and she licked her lips in anticipation.
She wrapped both hands around him, fingers barely even meeting. He was thick and long and perfect. He hissed, tremors traveled his body. His breathing was hard and heavy.
Cian tugged at the elastic band of her pants. She lifted herself up enough for him to shove the pants down and then unable to wait even another second, impaled herself on him.
He hissed, cupping her with his palm. She felt stretched, filled almost to the point of pain. But with the pain came incredible pleasure and she rode him hard, her cheek pressed against his. Wet hair clung to her brows.
She closed her eyes and lost herself in the movement. Their scent. He pumped into her harder, forcing her slick heat to pound up and down on him at a furious pace.
Their bodies slapped together and blood rushed to her center. She gasped and hugged his neck. White stars danced behind her eyes. Muscles contracted, reaching a crescendo. A spiral of heat traveled down her spine, filled her limbs, and had her on the brink of orgasm.
He bit her neck and that was her undoing. A frenzied explosion of exquisite fire. She arched back into the blossoming flames. Her breathing came in short gasps and her nails dug into his arms.
“Eve,” he roared, his thickness contracting with the tide of his own climax.
It took a second for her to come back to herself, but when she did she smiled and nuzzled the side of his neck, feeling more whole and complete than she ever had in her life. Reluctantly she opened her eyes.
He sighed and embraced her, holding her to him like a fragile doll. There was such strength in his hands and yet he was gentle, his fingers idly trailing a path down her spine.
“I guess this is the part where I say, hi Cian.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty sound filled with inflections.
“I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
“Why you’d leave?” Seemed kind of dumb to ask this question, now. Especially after what just happened, but she was still a little confused and hurt. Though she had no right to be, they hadn’t set boundaries, pot/kettle moment for her, but still… she had to know.
He twisted his lips, running his hand through her hair. “I thought I ha
d someplace to be. But I realized it wasn’t as important as being here with you. I’m sorry, Eve. I’m so sorry.”
His words nearly brought tears to her eyes. Not so much what he said, but how he said them. A deep, wrenching heartache poured from his lips. It still didn’t explain why he’d left. Maybe he had skeletons too. Painful secrets buried deep. And like Cian had told her before. Who was she to judge? She understood all about those skeletons. In the end she was just grateful he’d come back.
Maybe someday he’d feel comfortable enough to share those with her, but in the meantime she wouldn’t hold it against him.
She smiled and placed a tender kiss against his lips. He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. They sat that way for a while. Just holding on. Two wounded hearts seeking and finding solace in one another.
After a moment, a cold drop of water slid from his hair down on her chest. Glancing down, she instantly became aware of the embarrassing state of her clothes. Or rather the tattered remains of them. Her breasts were hanging free, each button on her shirt gone, hidden only goddess knew where. She felt like a wanton compared to the still dressed Cian.
“I’d better put something on,” she laughed.
He looked at her, the wild lust gone, but the heat still glittering in the depths of his royal blue eyes. “I think this look suits you.” He ran his hand down the corner of her breast.
Warmth fluttered anxious wings in her belly. Even after that she still wanted him. He rocked his hips. She smiled. He wasn’t as hard as before but he was definitely getting there. Her heart beat a rapid cadence to see them still joined at the hips. The air between them sparked with eroticism.
She bit her lip. “You keep that up and I might have to have my way with you again.”
He chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose. “I don’t think I’d mind that at all.”
Though she didn’t want to rip herself away from him just yet, she also didn’t want him catching chill. He was soaked to the bone and her right along with him. She stood, hugging her shirt shut.
“First things first, you need to get warmed up.” She couldn’t help but glance down at him. A greedy smile played on her lips. Butterfly’s dipped and dived remembering the feel of him inside her.
