by Varna, Lucy
His mouth thinned. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“When did you push?” The words were mild, uninflected by anger or emotion. “I hoped you would make your passion known.”
“It’s too soon.”
He stood, too restless to sit, and paced into the bathroom. Draped the washcloth over the edge of the bathtub, remembered his own state of undress, and cleaned himself, then yanked his boxer briefs and slacks back into place. When he returned to the bedroom, she was exactly as he’d left her, wanton and beautiful, an ice queen no more, but a woman well loved.
His dick stirred to life behind the fly of his slacks and he cursed under his breath, cursed it and the An forsaken need he’d held for her since the moment she walked into The Omega, every inch the warrior she was.
He’d fallen for her hard, tumbling into a confusing tangle of love and lust and emotion so unfamiliar, he’d struggled to breath under its weight.
And she’d ignored him. For two long, lonely years, he’d watched her come and go, always and forever out of his reach.
Until now.
She stretched her hand out to him, holding it in the air above the bed. “Come to me, Will. Rest beside me for a while.”
It was an invitation he couldn’t resist.
He flipped on the bedside lamp, a delicate crystal creation, and flipped off the overhead light, then crawled onto the bed and settled down next to her. “We should probably go clean up the kitchen.”
“In a while.” She turned toward him, as she had earlier, and rested her palm on his cheek. The elegance of her perfume washed over him, something light with the faintest undertone of lilies. “I’ve never allowed a man to take me as you did.”
That surprised the hell out of him. “You don’t strike me as a Daughter who lets any man take advantage of you.”
“You took nothing I didn’t willingly give, but you mistake my meaning. No man has ever overwhelmed me with his strength and passion, with his courage and kindness.” Her hand drifted down his throat and chest, and delved under his undershirt, caressing his stomach, arousing him in spite of his good intentions. “Do it again.”
The world narrowed to him and her and those three little words. He eased on top of her and buried his face in the soft curls of her hair, and gladly shared his courage and kindness with her until she was sated and satisfied, and in no doubt whatsoever as to the strength of his passion.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday morning, Sigrid woke alone in her bed half an hour later than normal. Sunlight streamed through the filmy curtains covering her window, lighting her bedroom, and she stretched beneath the covers, smiling at the aches and twinges of a well-loved body.
The night with Will had surpassed her meager hopes, shaming them. He was a wonderful lover, by turns considerate and playful, rough and tender, and she’d relaxed under his touch, allowing him to coax her into passion as no man had in so long, she’d forgotten.
And her memory was long and detailed and ever bright in her mind.
Only two things marred their time together, his uncertainty, which she had rightly dealt with, and his leaving. He’d snuck out of her bed at a little after two a.m., pleading a busy workload the next day, and she’d offered only a token protest. By that time, her decision had been made. She would approach his grandmother and present an offer for him to her old friend.
What that offer would be, Sigrid was as yet uncertain. That could be settled in the negotiations. Her limits were few where Will was concerned, something she’d discovered when he’d pleased her again and again the night before, often holding his passion in check until bringing her to her own release at least twice.
This was what had spurred Moira to claim her man Tom.
Sigrid’s ebullience slipped a fraction, and with it, her smile. She would never submit to Will as Moira had to Tom, no matter how well Will pleased her. Such foolhardiness was beyond her practical nature. Will would become a part of her household, yes, and she would treasure him for as long as his mortality allowed, but she would never cede herself to his tender love. How could she protect him without immortality strengthening her heart and will?
No, she would remain immortal, and if regret mingled with the pleasure lingering in the wake of his touch, so be it. Regret she could deal with. Him coming to harm? Never would she allow that for any man under her protection.
She slipped out of bed and into a hot shower, washed away the remnants of their passion, then wrapped herself in a warm, thick robe and padded into the kitchen. They’d managed to forsake lovemaking long enough to clean up the kitchen, but only just. As soon as the table was cleared and the leftovers put away, Will had trapped her against the kitchen sink, surrounding her with his solid strength, and teased her into an arousal so consuming, she’d lifted her skirt and begged him to take her there, with her hands wet from washing the pots and the dishwasher humming quietly in the background.
Her pussy tightened into muted throbs and her skin tingled from memory alone, a potent testament to his power.
She wanted him so much, had fallen into that need so quickly, it surprised her. But this was Will, sweet, gloriously passionate Will, and regardless of his feelings for another woman, regardless of her past or whatever obstacles were thrown between them, he would be hers.
He’d made his choice last night, and she would never tolerate any regrets on his part, or hers.
She placed a call to Anya’s personal secretary and scheduled an appointment with the councilmember for later that afternoon, then ate a quick breakfast and readied for work, certain she’d chosen the best path for herself and Will both.
Anya Bloodletter’s home stood on a quiet residential street along the outskirts of Tellowee. Like many of the historic houses located within the unincorporated town’s boundaries, it was large and well-kempt, and had been ruthlessly modernized with every turn of technology’s screw.
Sigrid had always loved the two-story Victorian farmhouse Anya had bought not long after meeting her heart’s greatest love. She parked her car on the street behind a rental sedan and admired the gingerbread trim decorating the porch eaves, the wide Southern porch, the colorful medley Anya had created in the trim and siding, painted contrasting colors.
It was a lovely home full of love and laughter, even after Anya’s husband passed away nearly a decade ago. Sigrid had flown in for the funeral, thinking to comfort one of her oldest friends, only to find Anya not resigned to her fate, but glad for it.
“All those years,” she’d murmured to Sigrid during the pre-funeral visitation. “Centuries alone without love. You may think it wasn’t enough, the short time he and I had, but it was. You’ll see when your time comes, Sigrid. Just wait and you’ll understand.”
The words had haunted Sigrid in the intervening years, not because of her long and untarnished memory, but in spite of it.
She shook her head, chasing the memory away, and walked regally up the brick sidewalk toward the house. She was halfway there when the front door opened and an all too familiar Daughter exited Anya’s house.
Chana Wolfbane.
A foreign emotion squeezed itself around Sigrid’s heart. She forced suddenly weak limbs to move exactly as they had before, stopping only when the other Daughter was within speaking distance.
“Chana,” she said, and was proud of the firmness of her voice. “You have business with the councilmember?”
“Of a personal nature.” Chana’s dark eyes flashed and a secret smile tilted her lips, adding beauty to an already pretty countenance. “I am thinking of settling here in Tellowee.”
“Permanently?”
“If all works out as it should.”
What force could entice a Daughter to move halfway around the world, outside the seat of her family’s control?
The reason hit Sigrid hard. Will. She retained control of herself, but only just. Surely she was wrong. Surely Chana’s personal business wasn’t a potential match with Anya’s beloved grandson.
; Chana bowed slightly, her gaze never leaving Sigrid’s. “I have duties to attend. Well met, kaetyrm.”
Sigrid nodded once. “Well met, Chana.”
She swiveled around and watched the other Daughter climb into the rental sedan and leave, her mind whirling around the unease growing within her. The front door opened again, a quiet snick, drawing Sigrid’s attention, and she turned and continued her journey into the home of Will’s grandmother.
Anya was standing in front of a roaring fire in her study when Sigrid let herself into the room, guided there by Anya’s assistant. Her steely hair was secured in two long braids, one tucked behind each ear. She wore a carnelian peasant top over worn jeans and moccasins, and stood as erect in her dotage as she had in her youth.
Two steps into the room, Sigrid bowed, much lower than she ever would’ve to that upstart Chana Wolfbane. Respect had some privileges, after all, and this display was one of them.
Anya turned away from the fire and returned the bow, a smile creasing the skin around her eyes. “Such pretty formality. When was it ever necessary between us?”
“When business deemed it so,” Sigrid replied. “How have you been?”
“Old and creaky, but you knew that. Come, sit. Tell me what’s so urgent you had to interrupt my naptime.”
Sigrid settled herself on the study’s only sofa, a large three-seater upholstered in brown, gold, and green plaids, situated facing the fireplace. As soon as Anya sat down at the other end, Sigrid said, “I have come on a somewhat personal matter.”
Anya’s cornflower blue eyes sharpened. “It’s not like you to beat around the bush.”
No, it wasn’t. Sigrid inhaled slowly, exhaled on a small laugh. “I’m unsure of my reception.”
“We’ve always been candid, Sigrid, and welcome in each other’s company.”
“We have,” Sigrid murmured, and girded herself for the blunt truth. “I’ve come to negotiate for your grandson, Will.”
Some of the friendliness leached out of Anya’s eyes, leaving them cold and a touch haughty. “Have you, now.”
“He and I are dating.” Sigrid fumbled for the words, struggling to find the ones that would soften his grandmother to her suit. “I believe we would make a good match and wish to bring him under my care.”
“I see.” Anya studied Sigrid for a moment. Her steady gaze seemed to pierce into Sigrid, seeing right through her to the heart of her intentions. “You understand that this is Will’s decision to make.”
Some of the tension left Sigrid’s muscles. She had expected that, and had the perfect countermeasure.
Before she could speak, Anya continued. “But it is up to his family to ensure that he makes a good decision. Are you aware that another has spoken for him?”
Sigrid only just kept the surprise from showing in her expression. “Chana, daughter of Pari, of the line of Eleni.”
Anya nodded. “She makes a good case. Her reputation is spotless, her finances well in order. I believe she would treat Will very well, and possibly even come to love him.”
A hard knot of something close to panic lodged itself in Sigrid’s chest, stealing her breath. “You have given her permission to court him?”
“As I said, that’s up to Will, but I am receptive to her suit.” The warmth bled from Anya’s expression. “I love you as a sister, Sigrid. On this you should never doubt, but I would rather you leave him be.”
“Why?” The word escaped from Sigrid in a breathy rush of confusion. “It would be a good alliance, a further cementing of our long friendship.”
“True, but it would also destroy him. I know what you do with your men.” When Sigrid tried to protest, Anya waved a single hand, silencing her in mid-word. “Don’t deny it to me, old friend. I’ve been there beside you too many times to give my grandson over to your care. I will not allow you to break his heart.”
“I would—” Sigrid swallowed down her words, sure they would only hurt her cause. When she could speak around the rawness gathering in her throat, speak past it and the thought of never having Will again, she said, “Will you stand in my way, should I continue my courtship of him?”
Anya’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and in the long moment that followed, defeat rushed into Sigrid, testing the calm she’d struggled so heavily to maintain. This was it, then. If Anya forbade Sigrid from pursuing Will, she would be forced to comply, else a war would spring up between their families. No man was worth that, even one of Will’s caliber. Chana would win his heart, and Sigrid would lose him before she’d even had a chance to plumb the depths of his desire.
At last, Anya said, “It’s up to Will, but tread carefully here, Sigrid. You know the consequences of treating him poorly.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time.” Sigrid stood on surprisingly shaky limbs. “Well met, kaetyrm.”
Anya’s expression softened into a smile. “Well met, old friend.”
Sigrid left while her dignity remained intact, measuring her pace out of habit rather than need, and afterwards sat in her car wondering what she could possibly do to hold Will to her without his family’s approval.
Rebecca worked steadily on clearing the last of the day’s paperwork off her desk, one eye on it, the other on her watch. It was early still. More than an hour remained before the official end of her workday, but Robert hadn’t been feeling well lately. The need gripping her to check on him, to assure herself of his wellbeing, urged her into a quicker pace.
She was well aware of time dripping steadily away from them. Would that she had another life to live with him. She would gladly forsake the centuries she’d endured before meeting him, if it meant having him all the longer.
Her cellphone rang, interrupting the steady flow she’d entered. She set down her pen, checked the caller, and relaxed into her chair. “Hello, Dani. How are you?”
“Great. Fine.” Dani sucked in a breath and let it out in a huff. “Ok, I’m lying. We’ve got a problem here.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, see. Remember when Drew dragged Bobby and Dave and Hiro to New York and beat the ever loving hell out of that rat bastard Marco?”
Did she ever. Their actions had cost Rebecca a few nights of sleep, worrying over possible retaliations. Regardless of what Marco had done to her youngest daughter, Retribution could not be taken lightly. “What of it?”
“Well, here’s the thing. Lukas is here with Stephen.” Music squawked in the background, a horn honked, and Dani’s voice lowered to a hiss. “Marco cornered Lukas a couple of days ago, had a squad of goons with him. Don’t know how he got them to turn on his brother, but they beat Lukas pretty badly. He’s lucky to be alive.”
Rebecca sat straight up in her chair, already fumbling for her keys and purse. If Lukas died, they lost more than a stable leader at the head of their enemy, or stable enough. They also lost their only key to gaining the Oracle’s trust. “Where are you?”
“On our way to Tellowee.”
“Get him to the hospital in Clayton. Have Dr. Phillips look after him. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Rebecca hung up and hurried out of her office as fast as her heels could carry her, snagging her overcoat on the way. Her secretary merely waved as Rebecca flew past, and once again, Rebecca thanked her lucky stars the People reared their children to smoothly handle whatever situation was thrown at them.
Half an hour later, she marched into the Emergency Room in the nearby town’s only hospital. Dani and Dave were sitting in the waiting room on either side of Lukas Alexiou, who was barely recognizable beneath the bruises swelling his face. His young nephew sat on Dani’s lap, holding tight to Rebecca’s adopted daughter, his eyes closed.
Dani glanced at Rebecca, then down at the boy sleeping soundly in her lap. When she spoke, her voice was calm and even, hiding any emotion she may have felt. “He’s a little out of it right now.”
“Nonetheless.” Rebecca knelt in front of him and placed a gentle hand on Lukas’s jaw. “Can you hear me, M
r. Alexiou?”
His face turned toward her, though his eyes remained swollen shut. “Nala.”
“She’s safe. We’re getting help for you.”
“Nala,” he repeated, and struggled against the restraining hand Dave placed on his arm. “Stephen.”
“We have him. He will receive the best care, I assure you.”
Lukas sagged against Dave. Rebecca withdrew her hand and perched on the chair next to Dani. “Why did he come here?”
Dani shrugged. “Nowhere else to go, I guess. He trusts Dave.”
And wanted to secure his position with Nala, as he called the Oracle. “Still, I question his arrival now of all times. How certain can we be of his claims?”
“Certain,” Dave said in that low, gruff voice of his. “Marco’s a dick.”
“You should’ve taken care of that when you had the chance,” Rebecca snapped, then hissed in a breath, reining in her frustration.
“Thought we had.” Dave’s massive shoulders rolled under his thin jacket and he scowled at Rebecca. “Pinico’s probably backing him.”
The uncle, brother to Lukas and Marco’s father. Rebecca rubbed cold fingertips into the headache forming behind her brow. Just what she needed, a rift in the Shadow Enemy. What else could possibly go wrong now?
“Sanctuary,” a rough voice croaked.
It took Rebecca a moment to understand that Lukas had uttered it. She glanced at Dani, one eyebrow arched, and Dani shook her head and shrugged.
“Please,” Lukas said. “Stephen.”
Rebecca sighed. If Lukas had really come here asking for Sanctuary from his family, how could she possibly turn him down, particularly with a young innocent in tow? The People needed Lukas’s connection with the Oracle, needed him to help them reach the woman they’d revered through the centuries, if only to learn who she really was. She had so much to teach them, did his Nala, but without him, they would be utterly lost, for Nala refused to speak to any save him.
Ethan strode in just then carrying a duffel and wearing street clothes. He jerked his chin at Rebecca. “Give me ten. I’ll go ahead and have him moved to a bed.”
