Pure Desire [Pure 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Barbour, Carolina

  She deserved to know. He had to tell her. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her fragrant scent of sweetness, sex, him. His body surged with possessiveness and his arms tightened around her. “Sweetie,” he whispered. Allura murmured, shifted, stretching lazily and turned in his arms until they were face to face. She remained sleeping, fading between here and her dreams even while she kissed his chin.

  “You don’t make me happy, but ecstatic.”

  “I love you, too,” she said and then drifted into a deep slumber.

  This time he accepted the declaration given, heartfelt and sincere. Allura loved him as much as he loved her. He didn’t tell her as much, though. Not sure why, he used the excuse of not wanting to wake her again. It was the biggest lie.

  It was the fear that kept him silent.

  Fear of the new emotion that felt surprisingly pleasant.

  Fear of the unknown for their future.

  Fear that now that he had found the love of his life, he might lose her.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Emperor Agaci walked back and forth in front of his men, arms clasped behind his back. A cold countenance hardened his features into granite. He strolled casually, his demeanor opposite the raging fury that frothed just at the surface. No one suspected he was on the verge of venting a crude wrath that would leave destruction in his wake.

  He stopped abruptly in front of his first in command. Severe eyes stared through the man. The emperor saw his guard’s Adam’s apple bob nervously and imagined he had sucked his mouth dry of spit. The fear he elicited amused him.

  “Tell me you have found the girl.”

  His first in command said, “I believe she is on Magnus, but I haven’t been able to confirm such. The Rynoir compound is impenetrable, highly secured, and any attempt to enter the domain has failed, Grace.”

  “Hmm…so, what you are saying is you failed your mission.”

  The man said, “Grace, I can vouch the girl is there.”

  Emperor Agaci lunged at the man, his teeth set, and snarled, “I know that much, you imbecile. What I want to know is if you have the bitch!”

  The man bowed his head in servitude. “No, Grace, she remains with the Rynoirs.”

  “You are worthless,” the emperor said. A slender, hooked knife materialized from within the folds of his puffed sleeves of his robe. He drove the blade into the man’s stomach and jerked upward, opening his chest easily like raw meat.

  He wiped the blood from the knife on the guard’s shirt. He walked over to another man. He spoke with indifference, coolly saying, “Herndon, it seems you have been promoted. I want that Deverill bitch in my hands within forty-eight hours. If you fail, you may as well cut your own throat. Get out…all of you, and get this pitiful body out of my sight.”

  Emperor Agaci walked farther into the room and stopped in front of the ceiling-to-floor-length mirror supported up against a corner wall. He turned this way and that, examining his reflection as if seeing it for the first time. He stared into the mirror, at the clear liquid eyes that reminded him of icicles, familiar yet foreign. His fury was fresh, and his irises were slightly darkened, a testament to how deep his irritation went and how furious revenge ran through his veins.

  Even if he murdered a thousand men, he ached for Noor Rynoir’s blood, like an animal for fresh kill. He thirsted to bring the bastard down. Perhaps then, he might find peace and calm his raging bloodlust.

  Then there was the bitch to deal with. An amused smile curled the emperor’s lips, making his boyish, fair looks fade into sinister personified. Feeling crudely malicious, every nerve ending in his body tightened under the pressure of waiting for the moment the Deverill cunt was once again in his grasp. When he had her suffering beneath him, and she atoned for her betrayal, her womb filled with his seed, he might just feel an ounce of satisfaction.

  He had no doubt Rynoir had already fucked the girl. That consideration made red flashes streak across his eyes, but he couldn’t dwell on that nuisance. If he found out the whore carried Rynoir’s child, he would purge it from her belly by implanting his seed, which would destroy the Magnus cells like an infestation.

  That was an interesting medical fact he wasn’t aware his chemical makeup contained until his stupid wife notified him she was carrying a child. Because he never released inside her or any other female for obvious reasons—he couldn’t risk it—naturally, he accused her of lying. She had laughed nastily in his face, called him an idiot, and bragged about her unfaithfulness. Then she tossed the undeniable evidence in his face. A disk with an image of the embryo curled protectively in her womb. He recalled staring at the tiny features, ever so small, that resembled a human form.

  He lost it then. He choked her within an inch of her life, and then raped her repeatedly until she screamed for mercy. The battering continued. He wanted to kill her and would have if she hadn’t revealed that the guardians were aware she was enceinte—her insurance policy. The word had spread among the Oridus people, who were excited about the coming of the next Intended. Knowing this, he couldn’t outright murder her with everyone watching.

  The day he caught the milk-faced nursemaid hiding in the woods with the child sent a new wave of fear coursing through him. He couldn’t let the child survive and take over reign of his throne, and relished in silencing the squalling little bastard. When he unclothed the bundle to see his wife’s perfidy, he almost stumbled, seeing the features of his likeness. Unbelieving, he remembered standing there holding his child wondering how was that possible?

  Then, understanding what he had to do, he walked over to the bridge, stared down into the rocky surface beneath the raging river, and tossed his son into the gorge. He watched the body shatter against the sharp stones and splinter before the blood and particles were carried away in the swift current.

  Secretly he did his research and found out what he had suspected. His species had carnivorous genes that dominated weaker cells and attacked any foreign particles they met and destroyed them to take over the host. Which is what he assumed happened in his wife’s case when he ejaculated and filled her with his lethal little sperm. The thought had been daunting at first, and then he accepted the uniqueness of his power, knowing he could use it to his advantage when necessary. If the Deverill bitch carried Rynoir’s child, it wouldn’t matter. And he felt a sense of elation about that. What rubbed him raw and ignited a fresh wave of ferocity was that he might have to destroy his own again.

  Emperor Agaci clutched his fingers into a fist. He seethed with venom and shook uncontrollably as he struggled to keep the howl threatening to rip from his throat lodged…he almost choked on the distaste of unfairness that required him to hate the sight of his own flesh and blood.

  He glanced at his reflection. The sight was almost startling, and he stared in disbelief at what he witnessed. Rarely did he care to see his true form. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the candleholder and smashed it into the glass. The spider web veins distorted his image. They didn’t disguise, but exacerbated the crude features, crimson eyes, and the beast that dwelled within him.

  He could see that as clear as day.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Denny Sterns was his wife, the love of his life, beautiful beyond compare, and the biggest conniving, deceitful bitch he knew. He realized six months into their marriage that he really didn’t know the woman at all and accepted the fact she had swindled him like a classic con man only smoother. He was a detective, his intuition keen, and he should have listened to his conscience, which warned him there was a reason Denny made him uncomfortable at times. Subtle nuances pricked his instinct that something wasn’t quite right, but when he started to become suspicious, it was as if she had a sixth sense and noticed. There was nothing like a good fuck to make a man set aside his reservations about a woman, and Denny had that act down to an art.

  When other husbands complained about their wives not cooking, sexing, or giving them the time of day, not to mention a blow job on occasion, his perf
ect little wife put a Stepford wife to shame. Maybe that should have been his awakening when he watched the historical movie one night on the classic rerun frequency and recalled how remarkably Denny resembled the mechanical perfectionists the actresses portrayed. Not that he thought Denny wasn’t real, she was all flesh and blood…he could attest to that. She was just too damned flawless. That had always been the problem. Especially when he knew the perfection was only on the surface.

  Denny stretched lithely over the bed, grinned at him with her Hollywood smile, and coiled her creamy curves around his body and snuggled close. She smelled fresh, even after sex, as if she just showered in a stream of citrus and clove. He looked at his wife and wondered how she remained unspoiled, not a bead of perspiration, every strand of hair in place, her lipstick untouched, after the pounding he’d given her while he sweated like a pig and reeked of the pungent odor the body had after sex.

  Denny sprung to her feet. She jumped around with nervous energy like a long-distance runner, warming up for a race to get her body limber while the thought of blinking made him ache because his energy was so drained.

  He refused to admit it to himself, but having a wife that fucked like a champion eventually wore you down. If he ever revealed that to his friends, they would laugh him out of the locker room. He cringed at the thought of coming home some nights because he knew what awaited him—a nymphomaniac wife who didn’t take no for an answer.

  Denny took and took, and he performed like a well-trained animal at first, but now that he had aged, all the tricks and sexual escapades she insisted on, frankly, got on his nerves. Sometimes a man just wanted to get in, get off, and get out.

  She put her hands on her hips and said cheerfully, “Let’s get up and eat. I’m ravenous, and then we can start our little party over again. How does that sound?”

  “I don’t like it when you treat me like one of your officers.” With everything else he had to deal with, his wife was the chief commander of an elite tactical force for the government. When the average guy couldn’t cut it, she came to the rescue and kicked major ass. To date, she had an impeccable record of sieges and arrests. What got his gut was the gossip that followed his wife the most. It was a well-known fact Denny worked her men and women as hard as she fucked them. Alias Commander Cunt, a first-rate whore, is what they called her, and he was married to her, shamefully.

  “Are we going to fight about this again? Move your ass and let’s eat.” Denny headed for the door.

  “No.”

  She turned and eyed him over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore. You, our marriage, and all this bullshit we’ve been doing for too many years. Come on, Denny, let’s face it and admit our marriage was over years ago. I’m tired of pretending. We’re done.”

  She was on him in a split second. She jabbed him hard in the chest with her fingernail. “This is not the time to grow some balls. Seriously, it really isn’t. You are up for promotion, and I have my eyes on a new position that could make me more powerful then I am already. So suck up whatever is bothering you and let it go. This is business.”

  “Whew…it didn’t take you long to lose it. I’m surprised because you usually are a stone bitch.”

  “Listen, mister, you don’t want to screw with me.”

  “Actually, I have had enough of your endless screwing you call sex. We haven’t made love in years, if ever and frankly I’m relieved to be free of the chore. I won’t continue to be your bitch in and out of bed. Go and find yourself another jerk who doesn’t mind that his wife likes to strap on a dildo and do the fucking more than she enjoys a cock. I wish you well in your quest. You go and have a happy life, Denny. I certainly plan to and with no regret.”

  Denny laughed hard. Then she squeezed his wrist in a death grip when he tried to move. “Do you really think your life is worth anything without me? Huh? Well, I will let you in on a little secret. Everything you are, your position, is all in place by my design. Me.” She thumped his chest. “All my hard work got you where you are, stupid ass. I put you in power and just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “I can have your sorry ass bumped back down to a field officer or worse rejected from the agency in disgrace.”

  Sterns’s face crumpled with disbelief, and his mouth dropped. “What are you saying? I worked hard to get my promotion and I won’t let you take that away from me.”

  Her laughter was shrewd, menacing. “You’re an idiot, Asher. Did you really believe you had anything to do with your promotion? Inside the agency, everyone knew you were a joke, but I convinced my superiors to give you the position because I needed you in place for a reason. Trust me, it took a lot of persuasion on my part and a lot of hours on my back and knees but I finally won your commander over. You never really had any significant power, you asshole. You sit in that opulent office with a fancy title at my doing. And if you must know, you weren’t my first choice. In fact, you never would have been on the list but I got desperate when I realized Rynoir would never accept my conditions and roll over like a bitch. Nor was he willing to kiss my ass like you and lower himself to a sniveling pasty for me to lead around like a dog on a leash. You won that contest by a landslide. Maybe that’s why you went down on your knees so well, huh?”

  Something inside him snapped. Asher shook with rage, turning beet red. “Who are you? What are you? You bitch!” He choked, started struggling for air, sounding asthmatic, wheezing. “I…loved…you! You ungrateful bitch, do you realize what I have done for you!”

  Her hysterical laugh raked him raw.

  He shivered, trembling, and shaking his head no. “You made a mockery of my life and you find that funny!” he roared. An uncontrollable rage coiled around him and he ached to wrap his hands around her throat and keep squeezing until her eyes bulged and popped from the sockets.

  She was cool as a cucumber, attesting to her madness. “Sure,” she said. “But here is the kicker, you asshole, I know exactly what you call yourself doing for me. All this time you thought you were hiding your dirty little secret and bowing down to Emperor Agaci thinking he would give you any consideration because you played his man-whore.” She snickered crudely. “You stupid ass, everybody is pimping you for one reason or another. Tell me something, is it because you like taking it up the ass you couldn’t always get it up for me unless I was strapped? Theopolis said you never had that problem with him or his concubines who used you like a toy.” She flicked at him, and it burned as if she tossed a cigarette butt into his eye.

  “You bitch!” he howled and lunged at her and grabbed Denny by the throat.

  Asher wouldn’t stop squeezing. He kept on, tightening his hold, shaking her around even when she fought hard to stop his attack. She tried digging his eyeballs out, clawing, she tore at his skin, but he refused to release her. Her knee raised and slammed into his groin and white-hot pain exploded through him, but he ignored the pain as insignificant. The inner demon driving him wouldn’t let up. He wanted her dead, so dead.

  Killing Denny was his last gallant effort to redeem himself and prove he wasn’t the wimp she believed. She wasn’t laughing in his face, now. Her eyes dulled, rolled back in her head. He heard her take a last breath, gasping, and then her body went limp.

  The rush was exhilarating seeing her succumb. She stared up at him, eyes fluttering, on the cusp of death. He screamed at her, sobbing. “I gave you everything, my life, world, love, and you pissed it away after all I did for you. You took my good intentions and crapped on me like a dog. Every day you took an opportunity to unman me, just like that cold-hearted bastard Theopolis. You die, bitch, and burn.”

  Her head lolled to the side and she went limp in his arms. He tossed her aside like waste and turned to leave the room when he heard movement behind him. Asher froze. How could he forget Denny was trained as a special ops? She could drop her heart rate, fall unconscious, and appear dead.

  He heard the pre-amp pump of a stunner filling with blast.

 
; “You always underestimated me, prick,” she said.

  He turned slowly and faced her, void of expression.

  Denny stared him in the eyes and shot him once, twice, three times center chest.

  He clutched his chest and looked down seeing the blood seep between his fingers. He gasped, blood gushed from his mouth…he dropped to his knees.

  Denny always liked to overachieve at anything she did. It was his last thought as she walked over to him and put a blast in his forehead ripping it open.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Noor had made good on his promise to bring her home for a visit. She didn’t like the contraption she was strapped into, the long tight cylinder with all the colorful gadgets and readings she didn’t understand. She hated the way her body felt when the men behind the controls did a countdown, and then a blinding light surrounded her body and she felt sucked into the air. Her mind went blank, she felt numb, and all the tingling sensations weren’t pleasant but made her nauseated. Then she blinked…her body ceased to feel anything, and the next thing she knew she was in Legend.

  That was two days ago and she still felt weird inside, to be on Magnus one minute, and then the next at the mercantile store.

  Walking leisurely, Allura strolled down each aisle of the store, picking out the goods she needed and a couple of items her mother wanted to purchase. She fingered a pretty roll of blue ribbon that would complement the yarn she selected earlier. She was thinking how nice the materials would work together when she sewed the blanket for her child.

  Her son. The notion that Noor had given her a son and knew this at conception—it still baffled and amazed her, even though he explained the scientific ability Magnus men had to give choice-seed and select male or female children. She doubted as long as she lived any of her new world would make sense. But from what she learned, she would have a long time to figure it out. By bringing her to Magnus, Noor had given her immortality, or close enough, as the technology in his world allowed people to survive three lifespans. If she calculated that in her head, she would probably die around age two hundred, if her math was correct.