by Lexi Ostrow
She was without a doubt one of the kindest, most passionate people he had met in his short time. Sure she could be stubborn, argumentative and downright aggressive when she was angered, but those things only endeared her to him more. Alcott had found someone whose weaknesses only aided in their strengths. If that wasn’t enough to wake him up and make him realize he was long past falling in love, and was actually in love, he didn’t know what could.
The smallest graze of a snore from Kellie had him almost choking, trying to stop a laugh from forming. She did that often, and it was just another thing about her that he found adorable. She was so similar to Ciara, and yet so very different that it was impossible for him to believe he’d ever compared them. Ciara had been his charge, but Kellie was destined to simply be his.
“You do know that I find it alarming when you do that?” Kellie said groggily as she sat upright, leaning on her elbow.
He smiled. “I can’t help it. I’m still trying to figure out how I was lucky enough to get so much more than a Word Speaker out of our pairing.”
She flushed, the faintest pinkening of her cheeks. “You keep talking to me like that, witch boy, and you’ll find yourself lucky before breakfast.”
Grinning shamelessly at her, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “It has been a few days since I’ve gotten lucky.” He dropped another kiss to her nape, nuzzling against her. Placing his lips next to her ear, he whispered softly, “I think I know how to help with that.” He let his fingers trail over her warm skin under the blanket, feeling his cock stiffen as he did so. Goddess, did he love that she slept naked, save for a pair of panties.
Her small moan of delight spurred him on, and he began to massage her breasts as he trailed his fingers in slow, sensual circles around her entire torso. Her back arched wantonly, shoving her into his hands, but not before she leaned forward and placed a kiss on each of his pecs. His groan was louder than hers, and he felt his shaft thicken to fully aroused and ready for her. Her hand wasted no time clasping around his erection. She stroked with all the ease of a practiced lover, causing his hips to buck into her embrace.
“You are sincerely wicked with just one hand,” he ground out, gyrating his hips into her grasp and straining to control himself.
She kissed his lips lightly, lingering as she spoke. “I have been told that before.”
That drew a deep growl from his chest. “We will have to make it so that no one else gets the privilege of telling you.” He removed her hand from his shaft and flipped her over, crawling up her body. “I think I’ll also have to show you want I’m talented at.”
She reached between them and guided him to her folds. “I think that sounds like a great way to spend the morning.”
***
Alcott lay, gently finger combing Kellie’s hair as she snuggled against his chest. He was sated, sleepy and more than content with the woman in his arms. Without thought, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
She lifted her up and smiled up at him. “What was that for?”
“I just felt like it needed to be kissed.”
Grinning she gave him a quick peck. “I think you kissed me quite thoroughly this morning.”
He laughed and felt her head bump slightly on his chest. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
A comfortable silence passed between them, one that felt like sitting with an old friend. It was peaceful, something he hadn’t experienced in many years. Moments like those were the ones that people lived for. He just knew it.
“Alcott?” Kellie asked softly, breaking the silence.
“Mmm?”
“When do you think we will get to go home? It’s been nearly three months. I miss my city, I miss my cousin and I would seriously kill for a job to keep busy with.”
He couldn’t relate to her discontent because he was rather happy where they were. But he did understand she had a life prior to him, one that had been torn in two and tossed about like clothes in a dresser drawer. She’d gone from neat and organized, to a disheveled mess where she was constantly tiptoeing around to pick up the pieces.
“I would think that, if the attacks do not grow worse, we could leave this week.”
“And if they grow worse?” She sounded eager and looked it as she rose to sit up. “I love it here, I do. But this isn’t my home, it’s Dale’s. We’ve learned so much from them and each other since we’ve come. I do not think it is too much to assume that we are able to care for ourselves. Or that we are no longer a target.”
“I don’t disagree. I’ve known Ryce longer than any of us, I believe, just due to the circumstances I put him in. He’s trying to do right by you, but if you truly wish to leave, we can. He is powerful, but he is not a tyrant. Even if we have to prove to him we’re ready for whatever can be thrown at us, I want you to get back to living your life. Thousands of Word Speakers have lived and died without the war beginning around them. If there has been no official declaration, then we should see to it that you are granted the same kindness.”
She smiled at him, cocking her head to the side. “Have I ever told you how you have this uncanny knack for saying the perfect thing at precisely the perfect moment? Are you certain you’re not poking around in my mind?”
Laughing, he held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor, I’m not. I think we just fit well together.”
She grinned and lay back down, her hair fanning out on his chest. “So when we get back . . . “
“Yes?”
“I was thinking that perhaps having a roommate isn’t the safest choice. I know nothing can harm anyone but you and me for some time, but I’m just thinking that it would be better if I could move about freely.”
“I don’t disagree.” He paused, uncertain if he could bring up Ciara, but then did it anyway because they couldn’t be nervous around one another. “Ciara lived with her boyfriend much of the time I was her Guardian, and her parents before that. Privacy is king in the world you now belong to. Are you able to do it though?”
“I own the condo in its entirety. It will be a problem not to have rent, but if I can get a job again, it won’t be so bad. My father’s family was quite well to do. He didn’t join the Army for the perks, he did it to save lives.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath as if to help her continue. “I had nearly two million left to me when I turned twenty-one. I admit to using nearly half on the condo, but Lana has been living there with me for four years. I’ve amassed a good portion of the money back. I will be okay. I don’t want to sell it though. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve missed sitting on the terrace and just watching people. Not to mention the short walk to all the amazing places I’ve spent my life going to.”
He wondered what it would be like, spending his life in a city with someone who knew it so intimately. It had to be nice to belong somewhere. “Wherever you wish to be is where we will be. I don’t know what you’re thinking about for when you are able to release me, and you’re young enough now that I don’t want you to consider committing to anything. But I want you to know, you have me, Kellie. All of me, for however long you want me.”
He watched as she sucked in a deep breath. Had he misread the situation between them? Her mouth shifted into a smile, and he relaxed.
“I haven’t felt like I’m only twenty-five recently. It ages you, being a Word Speaker I mean.”
He thought back to Ciara. She’d been so young when he’d first met her. Yet, as she’d grown, she had held a maturity about her that shocked him. She’d seemed to catch up with his written nineteen years in the blink of an eye. The thoughts sparked an entirely different, unwanted one.
“Does it bother you?”
“Growing up quicker? No. I mean, I had to grow up fast anyway after my father was killed.”
He felt like an ass for having switched topics, but he needed to know. “No, sorry, I was thinking about something and didn’t share. Does it bother you that I’m only nineteen? In theory.”
/> She quirked a brow at him. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. But you aren’t nineteen. You were nineteen when you met Ciara. How long ago was that?”
“Thirteen years ago.”
“And you’ve been awake all that time, never having to return to what you were written to be,” she said very matter-of-factly. “So, the way I see it, you’re thirty-two. You have the experiences and life lessons. Just because you’re trapped in something you were created as, it doesn’t change that. Besides, you sure as shit don’t look only nineteen.”
“I love you.” The words blurted from his mouth before he’d had a chance to stop them.
Her smile grew infinitely bigger. “I have been dying for you to tell me that. I love you too, Alcott. I’ve been in love with you for quite some time.”
Pulling her up his chest, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly but passionately. “I’ve been wanting to say it for some time. I was waiting for the perfect moment because you deserve that.”
She laughed. “And me telling you that was the perfect moment?”
He tucked a teal strand of hair behind her ear. “It was precisely that. You don’t see me as a concept or a construct. I’m a man to you.”
“You are plenty of a man to me.” She grinned. “But that isn’t why I love you, Alcott. You’ve captivated me from the moment I read your story. I was concerned the kind, selfless man I’d grown attracted to wasn’t who you were, but it is. Throughout everything, you have made me feel safe and protected. You treated me like an equal and didn’t apologize for kicking my ass too hard as we trained or for hurting my feelings. Even if I wanted you too. You are everything I imagined you to be and so much more.”
A knock at the door silenced him before he could respond, which was all right since he had a considerable sized lump in his throat. A moment later, Dale opened the door. His expression was grim, his clothing torn and bloody.
Alcott leaped up, unconcerned about his nudity but making certain to block Kellie from view. “What happened?”
“We’ve lost more. Three Word Speakers and four Guardians. He thought it was a good idea for us to gather together, to meet . . .” Dale rambled, repeating himself as his eyes darted from place to place, not focusing on anything.
“Who? Ryce?”
Dale looked as if he would fall over with a gentle push. “Is that the one that wears the trench coat? I cannot focus right now.”
“Where is Breena?” Kellie asked, stepping beside Alcott after pulling a sweater on.
“She’s washing off. Neither of us is injured, thank god. But the others. It was a mess. Demus is untraceable and our leader, whatever the fuck he wants us to call himself, can’t get an audience with the God in charge of this supposed prophecy. All we know is now is not the time. He and Demus were given signs. Signs that have not come to pass, so the war cannot begin.”
Alcott could feel any prior bliss being suctioned out of the room with great force. He glanced at Kellie, who looked as if she was trying her best not to cry.
“Then we are stuck here longer?” she asked in a small voice.
“No. Everyone is to leave. He wants us to scatter and forget we ever met others of our kind. He thinks it’s the only way to keep us all safe after the gathering resulted in so many deaths.” Dale finally collapsed and slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands. “So many lives I couldn’t save. I’m supposed to be the most powerful, and I couldn’t save us all.”
The pain in his voice splintered through the room. Alcott did not know what to say, so he said all he could. “Then we will leave. We will all protect ourselves, and we will grow stronger separately. When we come together again, we will be stronger.”
“We will stay. You and Breena will need help for a few days. I know grief and loss. Let us stay to help,” Kellie said as she sat beside Dale on the floor. “Let us help you push this behind you, and then we will leave.”
Dale looked up at her, eyes nearly glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, Kellie.”
She looked at Alcott then, with sadness unlike any he’d ever seen in her eyes. Whether the war was beginning or not, any shot they’d had at normal was long gone.
His mind was reeling. The walls of his normally comforting home felt more like an entrapment than a home. A choice he’d made had led to devastating results. Four were dead because he’d made a decision, one that should have kept them safe.
A growl tore past his lips as he slammed his hand into the nearest wall, welcoming the surge of pain that traced a path up to his elbow. It did nothing to dull the ache in his heart. “Demus!” he roared through his home, knowing full well his brother would not answer.
Anger wrapped around him so tightly that he could scarcely breathe. He saw red over an image of his brother as he would have appeared while ordering his warriors to attack. Four. The number resonated in his mind as loudly as if someone had shouted it.
For months, he had been trying to track down Demus, or even Huracan, to put an end to the betrayal his brother had launched. Nothing had been successful. As the attacks had siphoned away, he’d made the assumption that he needed to bend the rules as well. Across the world, eleven teams had been paired up made up of those he’d felt were in the most danger. Drawing together the most powerful in a meeting to discuss the events had seemed logical. If they were going to endure a series of small attacks that could lead to the prophecy being unlocked, they needed to be aware of what the three locked events were — death of a team at the enemy’s hand, a catastrophe that struck across multiple continents in the Word Speaker’s world and an attack from brother to brother. Though they’d fought many times, he and Demus weren’t the brothers in the prophecy.
“And you fucking helped unlock one,” he snarled at himself.
By calling a meeting, he’d lead them to a trap. He could not find Demus, but his brother had located him easily enough in the small Los Angeles bar. Because of his choices, more lives had been lost and a lock had been broken. There was no amount of penance he could do to make up for the deaths.
A sudden burst of fury struck him once more. His vision blurred as the anger took root. He needed to do something. He needed to find his brother and see to it that he was replaced, even if it cost them both their lives. He went from standing next to his kitchen table to being in the middle of a busy Chicago street. Then from Chicago to a temple in Budapest. Over and over, he flashed to the locations where the most recent Word Speaker acquisitions to Demus’ army had come from. Over and over, he failed.
Standing on a small, snowy bank, overlooking a large ravine, he screamed his rage to the frigid Alaskan air. The God’s name echoed off the cliffs, a slow rumbling that could have caused an avalanche with all the power he pushed behind his scream.
“Huracan! Hear me. We are but your pawns in this. Should you seek to turn your back on us, I will do what I have sworn not to do. I will make certain that Demus’ side is eradicated before the war can ever come to pass!”
His chest heaved from the intensity of his emotions, and the cold wind pierced his lungs with every deep breath he took. Still, the wind did not grow more vicious, nor did it swirl and howl as it often did when Huracan made his appearance known. The God of Creation favored living as a breeze, and he had only seen him in human form four times that he could recall, which meant he could scream until his throat bled waiting to feel the presence in the air.
The bitter cold was slowly numbing him, despite his near immortal status. Freezing would not kill him, but it could slow him down. That doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. He meant every word he thought, and every shout and curse he screamed.
Over and over, he continued to shout Huracan’s name into the wilderness around him. At some point, his knees buckled in exhaustion, and the sun lowered as far as it ever did in the early Alaskan winter. Nothing mattered, not until he could stop his brother.
“That is enough,” the brisk voice of a God said from seemingly all around.
His
head whipped up, though he saw no human form. In front of him, in midair, snow swirled to life. It did not create a face, but Huracan so rarely did that. A spark of energy shot through him, and he pushed himself to his feet.
“You could have waited longer,” he hissed in sarcastic anger, wishing he could strike the God.
“I come only when I feel it pertinent. You screaming like a babe held no interest to me. However, even I have to step in and make certain you do not forsake your path. Word Speakers have gone without Guardians and without their gifts being realized as you have spent nearly thirty-six hours seeking me out.
He blinked, shocked it had been so long since the deathly encounter. “I lost track of time.” He balled his hands into fists. “Something that would not occur if you would simply answer when spoken to!”
Small balls of snow slapped at him, not enough to cause even a flicker of pain, but enough to get the God’s message across.
“I too have sought out your brother, and he remains hidden, even to me. Perhaps allowing him to regain the first name you took when you accepted your paths was a mistake. He should not be able to shield himself from me.”
“And if he weren’t shielded? What then?”
The wind made a noise damn close to an exasperated sigh. “As I have said before, this is a wager between those of us who helped with the world’s creation. We agreed, as a trio, to choose you and your brother. Only together can we remove one or both of you. But know this, should it be up to me, your brother’s time would be recompense. He has pushed too many boundaries.”
The sentiment meant nothing because it was apparent that, while Huracan was the face of the prophecy game played by his ancestors’ Gods, he held no power on his own.
