Forsaken

by Jacquelyn Frank

  Leo swallowed. The anxiousness that crawled up his chest was painful and once again he felt the need to look to his back.

  “That may be true,” he said, his words a little forceful as he made them leave his mouth, “but it doesn’t follow that he doesn’t deserve to be saved.”

  “Interesting. Now, why don’t you drink up,” she suggested again. “I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for otherwise.”

  Leo looked to Faith and hoped she could see the word that indicated his feelings of the moment. Capitulation. Alice, he realized, would not have gone on her adventure if she’d never given in to the request of a simple bottle. However, as he raised his glass to his lips, he could not make himself drink. He broke out in a cold sweat, his breath suddenly hard to catch.

  “Fuck,” he said in a wild burst. He was about to slam the glass down and walk out, but Faith reached out to him, touched his wrist, met his eyes. He didn’t know why it should matter, didn’t know why it should make him feel a sense of calm, make his heart slow, his breathing even out, but it did. She did. Something in that simple touch and the look of understanding in her eyes made him relax in a way he had not been able to since this whole fucked-up journey into the paranormal had begun.

  He watched her lift her glass to her lips, and barely take a sip before she suddenly dissolved away from before his eyes.

  And, still not knowing why, he followed suit.

  Faith felt like she was falling. A dizzy, sickening feeling. Falling slowly at first, then more quickly, gaining speed. Like Alice and her rabbit hole, potentially the truth to the myth of that story. Maybe Lewis Carroll had fallen down a similar rabbit hole and it had been an experience retold in a child’s tale. But this time she was the one falling, falling into the past where so much had shaped her through the years, and then falling into the future. A future of laughter and pain. Of delight and desire. A future of infinite possibilities.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Faith awoke in bed next to her lover, feeling his heat along the length of her body, his naked skin smooth and warm in places, hot and furred with crisp hairs in others. The hair on his body surprised her every single time she saw it. Every time she felt it. Before him she had known only Night Angel lovers, and Night Angels were free of body hair. She reached out and touched his chest, touched the springy curls.

  “You’re obsessing about my hair again,” he said with a sleepy smile, making her laugh because he knew her so well. He reached for her, drawing the full length of her tighter to his body. Her skin was instantly seared with his heat. Night Angel lovers were so much cooler to the touch, or so it seemed in her retrograde memory. Maybe it was just the way she burned so hot for him, the way just the anticipation of him made her soft and wet.

  “Leo,” she breathed as his mouth brushed over hers. How was it that every time felt like the first time? How was it that she felt that curl of anxiety and anticipation every single time he was going to kiss her, wondering if he would, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t change his mind. It didn’t matter that he was only human. It never had. Not for her. And though, in the beginning, he had mistrusted her and her innate power, that was long past them now.

  “Faith, give me your mouth, I find I’m famished for it this morning.” He suddenly rolled over her, sliding her beneath him, placing himself right between her thighs as she braced her feet against the mattress. He was hard and hot against her, cradling himself into everything that was wet and warm that she had to offer him. Her hands ran down his sides, the play of the muscles under his skin breathtakingly powerful. He was no Nightwalker, but he was a prime physical specimen of his own species and that was more than enough for her.

  Then, finally, he kissed her. The long, sweet, toe-curling kind of kiss that could bring tears to a woman’s eyes, because she knew that it meant he loved her with every fiber of his being. The kind of kiss that erased all doubt, if there ever was any, and solidified confidence. He was hers and he wanted no one else but her.

  Then she was gasping for breath as he lifted away from her, cradled her face between his hands and looked at her in the way that told her he was just as floored sometimes by his feelings for her as she was for him.

  “I think you’re going to have to let me marry you,” he said, the thought obviously surprising him as well. “I never thought I’d see the day I’d say that, never thought I’d trust anyone enough or find anyone who could understand a bitter, worn-out mercenary like me, but from the moment I met you you’ve been putting me in my place and proving me wrong. So…I think I’m going to have to make you marry me. And I may even want kids,” he said with wonder. “Holy hell.”

  “You always said…but…” Faith was utterly floored by his declaration, “you always said you never wanted to be that close to anyone…to put anyone in the line of fire that could be used against you.” And to venture into the possibility of a child? She hardly knew where to start when it came to a suggestion like that. There would be a lot of bravery required on both their parts in order for that discussion to take place.

  “Faith, if there’s anything I’ve learned, anything I’ve come to understand, it’s that you would give anyone who threatened your loved ones a ferocious fight. You’re not human. You’re not under threat by humans. You face much worse than that every day from other species. What I mean is, I can’t spend my freedom in a cage of fear. You’ve taught me that. Everything I fight for, the code I live by, it means nothing if I can’t reap what I sow.”

  Faith couldn’t help herself. Tears entered her eyes. He’d finally realized that he had to let someone, anyone, close to him or nothing would be worthwhile. He’d had that once. With Jackson and Docia. But that had all changed when they became Bodywalkers and he had felt that he had to keep a cautious distance from them. That had cost them all very dearly, and now there was no way of going back and fixing it. But he could move on into a new future. Maybe now he would stop hurting himself with his cautious aloofness and finally let others in. Let the need to trust come back to life within him.

  “Don’t make offers you don’t plan to follow through with,” she said, caution of her own shining through. It was a lot to take in, seemingly so sudden. But the more she raced through her thoughts, the more she realized that it wasn’t all that sudden after all.

  “I never make an offer I don’t mean to follow through with to the very end,” he said with no little intensity. “Just like I never take a job without finishing it. You know that.”

  “I know that,” she agreed with breathless wonder and a cautious dose of fear as she looked up into his serious dark eyes and knew her life was about to change forever. “I think I’m going to have to marry you,” she agreed, “just to make you prove it.”

  “I’d rather you do it because you love me…and because you’re hot for my body,” he said with a grin she barely caught sight of before he lowered his head to her chest and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her breastbone, a soft, wet touch of his tongue on her skin stroking her as if he were kissing her on her mouth. He moved a few inches lower and did it again, then lower again, to the point between her breasts, and did it once more.

  She felt the touches soul-deep, felt her breasts go taut and tight in anticipation. She knew what she wanted, what he would give her, just as he always did, always as if he were able to read her scroll and the words burning across it. She could see the words burning across his right then, and it made tears sting her eyes. It was one thing for her to know what he was feeling via his scroll, and something else entirely for him to admit to it.

  He moved to the point of her breast, breathing over her once, twice, glancing up at her with mischief in his eyes as he taunted her and didn’t follow through.

  “You always finish what you promise to do,” she reminded him breathlessly. “So if you’re trying to make me fret it won’t work.”

  “Oh, I’ll finish it. The question is…when.”

  He smiled, mischief curling up one side of his lips and lighti
ng his eyes. He lowered his attention back to the smooth violet blackness of her nipple. Even though he was somewhat dark-skinned himself, he looked shockingly light in contrast to the blackness of her. It was a contrast that always took her breath away for some reason. Perhaps because it was a reminder of how different they were, and how much that didn’t matter to either of them.

  His lips touched her nipple, his tongue fluttering out against her. He knew she was ten times more sensitive there than a human woman might be. It was one reason why she disliked wearing clothes and avoided it whenever she could. So he knew that just the gentle sucking sensation he was gracing her with was like pouring a sweet acid into her body, the burn scorching her straight from her breast to her already wet sex. He was already pressed into that wetness, his hard erection lying there hot and ready and dormant of action. Frustratingly so. She tried to lift her hips, tried to encourage him into her body, but he reached a strong hand down and pushed her back down against the bed.

  He tsked. “Don’t rush me. It’s hard enough keeping my head on straight around you as it is. I don’t need you wriggling around toying with my self-control.”

  And to teach her the lesson, he snatched up a brightly colored scarf from the table, wove it around her wrists and tied her to the spindle of their headboard in record time.

  “There, that should keep you from rushing me.” That said, he slid his mouth back down over her throat, came around to the sweet spot beneath her ear where he knew the barest touch of his tongue made an erotic heat go tumbling through her, playing her like a well remembered instrument. He brushed his lips along the line of her shoulder and then directly down to her other as-yet unattended breast, making her groan with desire and frustration. “Leo, please,” she begged him.

  He ignored her, replacing his mouth with the toying of his fingers as he slid down her body, moving himself away from the heated core of her body.

  “You’re going in reverse,” she all but whined at him, her body undulating beneath his in frustration. But again, he would not be rushed. Instead, he replaced the weight and heat of his erection with the darting heat of his tongue and the teasing touch of his mouth. But the teasing didn’t last long. He pressed into her, his tongue swiping hard over her sensitive clitoris. Even though her clit was set farther back…closer to the entrance of her vagina…than a human female’s would be, he had known how to find it from the very start. He had delighted in the difference, remarking on what a clever design improvement it was because it meant that every stroke in or out of her would drag him across the sensitive flesh.

  Very sensitive flesh. It was as highly sensitive as her nipples were, so the swirling tease and tasting of his tongue was driving her mad, driving her to the brink of an orgasm…and then beyond. She whipped into the orgasm, crying out, her hands ripping free of her light bondage and diving into the thickness of his short hair, her fingers trying to clutch at the strands and finding herself frustrated as usual. He was moving back up her body now, coming back to her mouth and showing impatience at last as he settled himself against her once more.

  “God, how I love to hear you cry out my name when you come,” he said roughly as he kissed her for all he was worth. She hadn’t even realized she’d called for him, hadn’t remembered what sounds she had made. It made her head spin, as did the feel of him easing into her. They groaned in pleasure together at the intimate relief of the connection. She was tight around him, as usual. It was another difference, her channel made more resilient than that of her human counterparts. Whatever his use of her, she would come back to virginal tightness every single time. A flaw in the design in some aspects. It was one reason why childbirth in her breed was so incredibly difficult.

  But for now he was using her tightness to excite himself, stroking hastily back and forth within her, immediately finding a rhythm. She clutched his shoulders, hugged him tightly to her, opened her mouth against the strong column of his neck and held him with the light pressure of her teeth. Lucky for her he had never minded her urge to nip and gnaw at him during sex. In fact, she’d dare to say it excited him all the more now.

  And she knew something else that excited him, too. With each thrust forward into her she let her wings surreptitiously extend through the mattress, and then she reached forward and curved them around him. Then with his next inward thrust, she wrapped them up against his skin.

  “God!” he ejected harshly, his pace changing, becoming rapid and hard and a little bit wild. Oh yes, she knew how powerfully arousing the contact with her wings was for him. It had been that way from almost the first time they’d ever touched.

  Good! She thought feverishly. She wanted this. Wanted to feel him whipping into a frenzy, losing control, loving her that much. He cried out again, this time all sound and no coherent words. He forced her back into the pillows, made her look into his dark, beautiful eyes, made her see the love and fire he felt for her. And just as tears of joy burned into her eyes, he came in an explosion of heat, holding himself to her tightly, his body locked hard into the commotion running like a riot through them both.

  When he released her, it was like the release of a great sigh, their bodies relaxing in unison, their breath coming hard and fast and without hope of slowing with any immediacy. He was back to looking into her eyes, back to dragging his fingertips through her hair at her temples, back to making her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

  One year later…

  Faith screamed, the agony ripping through her killing her slowly, convincing her that her flesh was being torn apart. She wanted it to end more than anything in the world, tears weeping freely from her eyes. She wasn’t ashamed to cry. Anyone would cry under such agony.

  “Easy,” Leo said softly, his eyes snaring hers, making her look into him just as he had always done. It had always been her focal point, her peaceful place. The comfort of knowing she was no longer alone in the world…would never be alone again. “You’re almost there,” he assured her. But he could not hide the worry ghosting through him from her. He looked up at the woman kneeling between Faith’s feet, her hands against her in counter pressure, trying to ease some of her pain.

  “The child is almost here. The way is clear and I am not worried,” the midwife said, reassuring them both. So many Night Angel females died from childbirth. It had been a source of fear for them both throughout the long months of her pregnancy, however much they had tried to reassure each other otherwise. It was the weakest moment, the most exposed a Night Angel female could possibly be.

  Faith screamed as new pain tore through her, this one worse than all the ones before. Her fear returned in a rage of emotion.

  “It doesn’t feel right!” she cried, panic hurting her heart and laboring lungs. There was another possibility. The child inside her might not survive the birthing process. Whatever happened to her, losing her child absolutely couldn’t happen, she thought feverishly. Leo would never be the same if something like that were to happen. After all he had been through, after so much pain and loss in his life, she wasn’t sure he would be able to open himself up again after an additional loss of that magnitude.

  “You must relax and trust me. I would tell you if there was trouble. What you are feeling is the child erupting past your cervix. It is the most painful part of labor, but now it is time for you to push.”

  “I feel it!” she cried. Leo moved behind her, helping her to sit up and push into the labor pain. He leaned into it with her, his breathing just as fast and worried as hers. The midwife grabbed the purple-colored scarf they had rested at her feet, looping it around Faith’s wrists and through her hands and pulling her forward and into her first push. Together the three of them pushed forward, bending her toward her knees, helping her to push with all of her might.

  After nearly another hour of that hard, pushing labor, the child slipping free of her body was the most relieving sensation Faith had ever known. She cried out with the reprieve of it, tears of pain and relief warring for release. But the t
ears did not fall until she saw her child in the midwife’s hands, being lifted toward her, screaming with the angry indignity of being ejected from the safe confines of her uterus.

  “Oh,” she wept and cooed, reaching to take her daughter in her hands. “Oh now. I know. I know it was so hard. But you’re here now.” She cradled the baby to her breast and felt Leo hard at her back. She heard him sob softly, and then his hands reached to cradle the top of the baby’s head.

  “Jesus, Faith. Look what we did.” He fought for composure and lost, tears dropping over his whisker rough face and onto her shoulder. Onto their child.

  “I know. I know,” she agreed, holding their daughter up farther into his hands. She was a black wriggly little thing, but it was a fair black, like a dusty charcoal. She was clearly a Night Angel and would one day grow her wings, but she was also part human, part Leo, and who knew what that would mean for her.

  Six months later…

  Leo panicked.

  There was no other way to describe the feeling when he walked into the house and found his wife and his baby missing, the signs of a fight everywhere. He tore through the house looking for them, but already knew he would not find them.

  Good. Good, he thought. If they weren’t there it meant they were still alive. Whoever had them wanted them for a reason. To control him, he acknowledged grimly. It was his worst nightmare come to life. He went back into their bedroom, breathing hard, trying to make his mind work. He found her scarf on the bed and swept it up into his hands. He twisted the silken fabric, the bright color of it almost garish as he struggled to tamp down his fear. He tried to think who it could be, then realized suddenly he knew exactly who it was, exactly who would sink that low.

  Marissa. She had been the bane of their existence ever since they had failed in their mission to save Jackson’s life. She had blamed them both and her vengeance had been virulent. She had promised to never rest until she saw them hurt the way she had hurt when Jackson’s life had bled away, one soul into the actual death, and one into the Ether, consigned there for another hundred years, leaving her alone and desolate.