by Kita Bell
Brand was little more than a stranger, but…he anchored her.
Chapter 6
Eva blinked awake. She didn’t know how long she had slept, but it was dark outside, with the moon illuminating snowy plains beyond the window. The small cabin was dim and warm, with Brand in the seat to her right. Joshua was gone; no one had bothered pulling out the beds.
For once, she hadn’t dreamt of Rohe.
Eva turned her head to see Brand. He was sleeping, his large form still and quiet beside her. He’s going to have a sore neck. His head was thrown back against the seat, tilted in her direction. Eva wanted to nibble his exposed throat, to follow the line of it down to his chest. She inhaled, drawing the scent of Brand – citrus, sunlight, freedom – into her lungs.
When Eva opened her eyes again, Brand was watching. Their gazes connected. Her heart leapt.
“I forgot. Did you get a chance to email your sister? At the hotel?” His voice was deep and wonderfully sleep roughened. The texture of his words rubbed against her skin; Eva wanting to bury her fingers into that voice – into the very strength of him.
“Yes.” She turned her body towards him. “Do you think we lost Rohe’s guards in Chicago?”
Brand reached out and traced the line of her lips with his thumb. “I hope so. I doubt they would attack a train. In the States. It is different in Europe.” He let his hand drop.
Eva’s heart fell with his hand. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to touch him.
She remembered the reserve she had seen in Brand’s eyes earlier, the silent debate.
How much do I really know about him?
An odd sensation rose inside Eva, twisting her throat. “Do you have children?” She had never slept with a man who had children. She hadn’t wanted to. If a man had children, he had a family. But…that was with humans. On the other hand, many Kaspian males – especially if they were older – had children by human women. Eva wasn’t sure Brand was that old, but…
Brand’s gaze flickered. “No.”
The word was unequivocal, and his tone set Eva back. “You don’t want them?”
“I want them,” he replied. “But I want them when I’m ready. With my… Not before.”
“I think you’re being unreasonable,” Eva forced herself to be practical. “There’s no way you can control having children. Not truly.” A hot flush rose in her cheeks. If she could have guaranteed control, her life would have been much easier.
Brand looked uncomfortable. “The Kaspians in my family are different.”
“Different how?”
“Small things.” Brand looked down at his hand, flicked his claws out, then back in. “It’s easier for us to control the Change. Individual elements of our bodies. Like growing our claws, or being…fertile…when we come. So choosing to have children or not, for my brothers and I, has always been a conscious decision. Except when we are with our…” Brand hesitated, then shrugged. “Usually it is a conscious decision.”
Eva digested that. She hadn’t realized there were actual differences between the Gens. Beyond wealth and age. Or the ability to withstand tranquilizers. “I wish I had that decision.”
Brand gave her an odd look. “You don’t? You know, human meds might not work, but when you combine Kaspian birthrates with a good condom…”
Eva flushed. “That’s not what I meant. I just – I wish I had your surety.”
Curious gold sparks settled deep in Brand’s eyes. “Why?”
Eva was silent, not saying anything. Finally, she shrugged. “My mother had children.”
“You and your sister,” Brand prompted, settling back into the seat. Eva nodded.
“Yes. But she used to have others. They died years ago, so we never knew them, but…when Rainey and I were born, the Gens was…hopeful. We were two years apart, and before that, there were only nine Kaspian in our Gens. Afterwards, eleven. So the Resh didn’t want to let my mother go. Ever. The Gens thought,” Eva snorted slightly, glancing down at the neckline of Brand’s dark shirt, “that my mother had ‘gotten her fertility back.’”
A pause. Eva looked up and saw that Brand’s face had stilled into a cold, hard mask; her heart froze, then began to pound in her chest with a touch of visceral fear as she remembered his blood tiger form: pure black, dark bluish-gold stripes. The irises of his eyes burned red with rage, and yes he had looked like a monster from a storybook.
That dark red flickered with the gold in his eyes now. “I don’t think fertility goes anywhere, Eva. It can’t leave, or come back. It just is.”
Eva shivered and had the sense that she was treading carefully. “They always hoped that Rainey and I would be like her. That we would prove…the same. So they never wanted us to leave, either.”
“They what, hoped to breed you?” The gold exploded beneath a tide of feral red. “Is that what the Turner Gens hopes to do?”
“No!” Eva stiffened in defensive fear – and fury. “They didn’t intend to do anything at all! They just had these hopes.”
Hopes that had frightened her, caged her all of her life.
Eva saw the effort Brand used to force his temper back; his control was almost frightening. The red flecks in his eyes died to an orange shimmer…which receded to slim gold bands within the blue as he heaved a sigh and leaned back in the seat. “I’m sorry, Evita. But I’ve seen cases like that, where Kaspian did that to their own. We have so few numbers, and in those Gens – the insular Gens – it always begins with ‘hope.’”
Eva frowned at the way he said that word. “Hope isn’t always bad.” It was what had helped her escape Rohe.
“In this case, was hope doing you any good, Eva?” Brand countered, and Eva grimaced, not willing to admit the truth. Not aloud. Because that wasn’t the point she had been trying to make.
Change the subject. Eva picked through the multitude of questions that had filled her mind, and came up with only one she was relatively sure of: “Is Seth your Gens’s Resh?”
Brand choked, making a strangled, amused sound, and Eva would have been pleased if she hadn’t known he was laughing at her.
“No. And I doubt Seth would appreciate you calling him that. Seth is our Sade.”
“Your Watcher.” Her cousin Justin was the Turner Gens Watcher, third behind the Resh.
Brand nodded. “Gaviros and Khael,” a shadow crossed Brand’s face, his amusement fading, “act as our Resh.”
“Both of them? Together? There aren’t any challenges?” If the Turner Resh had shared his power, there would have been challenges from everyone – and the Resh would have been sure to kill his co-ruler. No matter that her Gens had only nine members, there were some things that just weren’t shared.
“No. And there won’t be any.” Brand’s expression turned dark. “Not in our family.”
“That must be…nice.” But “odd” was what she thought.
Brand paused, studying her as if debating how much to say. But she always had that sense with him – that he was weighing his words. “Khael should be our Resh,” he added, almost reluctantly, “but he was…injured. Gaviros keeps the Gens steady, and operates the day-to-day security. Khael operates the rest. But he can’t…” Brand shook his head, made a slashing gesture, sadness and frustration on his face, “he doesn’t always tolerate being with others. He’s not completely stable.”
“He was injured,” Eva clarified, trying to understand. “He can’t fight?”
Brand’s eyes flashed. “Khael is the best fighter I’ve ever known. Perhaps too good. His problem is that he fights the things he shouldn’t. Physically, Khael’s fine. No, he was injured when…”
Brand’s words dwindled. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. And that quickly, Brand seemed old. Alarmingly old.
And haunted.
“Brand…” Eva smoothed her fingers down his arm, stopped at his wrist.
Brand’s smile was unhappy. “Some wounds you don’t recover from, Eva. And sometimes the cures people come up with do worse damage
. No matter if they think they’re helping at the time, it only leads to pain.”
The guilt in Brand’s eyes was deep. Endless. Frightening. She wanted to take it from him.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, not sure what she was trying to comfort him over. Brand caught her fingers, and began to play with them. “Brand, whatever it is, you can tell me. I know it wasn’t your fault.”
Of all Kaspians, only two Gens were capable of recognizing and Marquing their mates, of experiencing the mate bond. One of those Gens had been the Elisaie. The other was Brand’s Gens – Kade Gens. That was the legacy of his parents. Ashtoreth’s legacy. Nikandros’s legacy. Stronghold was built upon the very sense of family that his parents’ bond had fostered.
Eva didn’t even know the bond existed.
Brand wanted her, but he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. When they reached Stronghold he would tell her, but until then… He shook his head.
He had no good way to explain about Khael. “I took something from Khael once. Something that was his. Something that didn’t belong to me.”
Her eyes darkened in surprise. “What was it?”
“I can’t give it back.”
Eva drew back, but Brand held her fingers, unwilling to let her go, and slowly she relaxed. “You don’t seem the sort of person to steal.”
“I’m not all good, Evita,” Brand said dryly. She would realize that soon enough.
She met his eyes, then looked away, swallowing. “Why did you take…whatever it was?”
“To help him.” Because I couldn’t let Khael die. Because I couldn’t watch him kill himself.
“Did you?”
Brand stared at Eva, caught in his regret. “Did I what?”
Eva frowned. “Did you help Khael?”
“At first.” Brand watched the concern fill Eva’s eyes. He inhaled, feeling the warmth of her palm as he held it to his lips. Her clean scent filled the air, and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the delicate arch of her neck to taste her smoothness beneath his tongue. To savor her until she screamed his name and they both forgot.
More often than not, Brand was jealous of forgetting.
“You never told me,” Eva said, stroking her hand slowly down his chest, accepting his silence, “where you fall in your Gens.”
Brand watched her, admitting, “Ayin.” Second.
Most days, Seth could outfight Brand, but Seth refused the job. So by skill, temperament and ability Brand was Stronghold’s Ayin. He was, Brand admitted grimly, probably the only one who could work with Seth to keep both Gaviros and Khael from killing each other while ensuring Stronghold’s overall safety.
Eva’s hand had stilled over his heart. Her clean clear scent darkened, tinged with old pain. “My uncle was our Ayin. He was – I miss him. After he died, my mother wasn’t the same.”
Brand reached down, pulled Eva into his lap. “Your uncle makes you sad.”
Eva didn’t speak for a long moment. She leaned against him, setting off small fires under Brand’s skin. Then she sighed.
“He died in a car wreck. We were all there: Rainey, my mom, uncle Tad and me. We were celebrating – Tad had gotten the Resh to give mom leave to go to college. She was going to be a doctor. Mom would have been good at it,” Eva murmured, touching his cheek. “She would have loved your ability.” Brand tightened his arm around Eva, cupping his fingers over her soft dark hair; Eva glanced up, her expression struck him. She was frightened.
“Go on,” Brand forced his voice to be gentle.
“It happened so fast, but – Tad had good reflexes. So when the semi hit us, he steered the car so that we…so we would be okay. But he died. Not even a Kaspian can heal from…that. Rainey’s arm was…” Eva swallowed. “She healed but I know it hurts her.” The silver in Eva’s eyes shimmered. “She’s my sister, Brand. She’s all I have left. I miss her.”
Guilt struck Brand as he remembered how he had prevented her from going home. “Your mother died?” he asked gently.
“Not then,” Eva’s voice turned flat. She looked away and out the window. “No, mom died later. My ability never even gave me a Warning…” Her lips turned downward, she stopped.
When Eva looked up again, her smile was forced. Her lips wavered, her eyes were dark, and she appeared on the verge of tears. “So. That was what happened to Tad. Any painful childhood stories you want to share?”
“No.” He had too many. And very few of those memories were actually his own. “You have enough nightmares,” Brand said, leaning to take her lips. Eva resisted, frowning at him.
“Brand, I shared myself. Now you need to...” Her voice dwindled as Brand lowered his head, their noses touching.
“You don’t.”
Her body stiffened. She started to move away off his lap, and with a soft curse he caught her and held her against him. She squirmed, trying to push away, but he ignored that.
“Okay. Let’s try this again. Why?” Brand tried to tamp down on the battle inside him. There were things Eva didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to know. Eva tensed at his tone.
“It’s only fair. I told you all about myself, but I barely know you. And yet, here you are, insisting I go to Stronghold with you, thinking you can kiss me whenever you like…” She inhaled sharply and he heard her mutter under her breath, “…and I don’t know what’s wrong with my libido,” as the scent of her anger burned clear, warm and seductive.
Brand growled softly. He tilted his forehead to Eva’s and searched her eyes. The silver in her gaze had the faintest sliver of rich gold, the faintest ring of a not-quite-hidden angry arousal.
“Have you ever been with a Kaspian?” he asked abruptly. “Or have you only had sex with human males?”
She froze in shock, staring at him. “What?! No, only humans – I mean…what business is it of yours…”
With only human lovers, Eva never would have let them see her eyes as they took her.
When he took her, he would see that silver gaze. He would watch it darken to gold, then explode with color.
Eva would keep her eyes open for him. Only for him.
“Brand.”
Annoyance flickered, but he decided to humor her.
“What do you want to know?” A bare growl.
“Anything! Pick a memory, any memory. Just…give me something! Or let – me – go.”
“When I was five, Sakai attacked our castle.”
“What – ”
“My mother killed them all,” Brand snapped, less than pleased to unearth the memory. Even for her. Centuries of habit, centuries of silence, did not break so easily. Brand growled low, then claimed her lips as they fell open. Eva’s shock spiked the air like summer rain.
She started to speak, but Brand deepened the kiss. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to go into the past. It haunted him too much as it was.
“Brand.”
“No more talking.” Eva’s lips were soft, still against his; then, as he nipped her, Eva gasped him and he slipped his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. His hand traced down, cupping the softness of her breast; it filled his palm, just barely. As he ran his thumb across that small peak, Eva arched.
Brand wanted to drown in her.
But the taste of the memory followed Brand down, an unwelcome flavor on the back of his throat.
Because Brand hadn’t been afraid of the Sakai that day, he hadn’t been afraid of dying. He hadn’t been afraid at all. No, what Brand remembered most was his mother, drenched in blood.
He remembered the ancient smile on Ashtoreth’s face as she licked the blood from her fingers, savoring it.
That was the day Brand first began to understand what he was.
A castle?
Wait. His mother killed them all?
Brand nipped her bottom lip and Eva gasped, opening as he tilted her head back, bracketing her neck with his palm. Brand’s fingers forged through her messy hair. His kiss was rough, almost fierce, which was when Eva realized
that Brand was trying to forget. That Brand hadn’t wanted to tell her about himself, almost hadn’t been able to give her that portion of his past.
Eva regretted pushing him.
Sort of.
Because now she knew something about Brand. Something real. It was small, confusing, but it was a part of his life.
Good enough for now. Because she hadn’t been kissed like this – ever.
Eva relaxed into the kiss, her skin tightening as the heat within her belly expanded. She nibbled his lips, stroking her tongue against his, and Brand’s growl reverberated beneath her palms. When Eva looked into his eyes, she saw hunger. Pure lust. A growing, soul-deep need.
No man had looked at her like that before. With such naked want.
It poured through Eva’s bones like lava, calling to her own desire, and kindling a response. Heat pooled in Eva’s thighs, tightening her breasts, as the skin over her body became too tight, too small.
Brand was using her to forget. But Eva had to forget too.
They needed each other. For this. Once can’t hurt.
Eva grasped those broad shoulders to pull herself upwards, toward Brand as his hand came to grip the curve of her spine. His muscles were hard beneath the sweater, his body was tense as he pressed forward. Still pushing.
“Brand, look at me.”
His blue eyes flicked up, full of shadows and dark desire. Gold flecked his gaze, but it was haunted. So haunted. Brand leaned away to follow along the neckline of Eva’s sweater, sending her further into the seat, so that her knees nudged apart, and Eva caught the faint scent of her growing arousal. She twined her fingers into his silky hair, pulled his head back. “Brand. Wait.”
“What?” Then Brand closed his eyes briefly, shook his head. “Too fast?”
“No. Wanted you to know. We can forget together,” Eva whispered, touching his lips, that stubborn jaw, as he stilled.
Surprise sparked deep in Brand’s gaze, turned the blue to gold. He froze for a long moment – then leaned forward, nuzzling her throat. “Thank you,” he whispered against her ear. They both needed this.
Time to forget.
