“What kind of premonitions?” the King forced himself to ask.
“Of battle. Of pain. She kept saying that she was blinded by blood. Even without that information, she didn’t have to tell me she was certain something bad will happen or already has happened. I could feel it myself. The only thing I am glad of is that neither she nor I can be certain if he is alive or dead. She cannot say for sure if he has been Summoned. Did Ruth know Elijah’s power name, Noah? Could she have given it to one of the necromancers and had him Summoned and imprisoned?” Jacob’s hand clenched into a fist. “I swear on my child’s soul, Noah…if that bitch forces me into the position of having to kill Elijah, I will not rest until I have her black heart in my hand.”
Noah understood the Enforcer’s rage and fear. If Elijah had been Summoned, the worst of all fates known to Demonkind, he would probably already be perverted into a dark, soulless monster who would be a powerful danger to every creature within his reach. The magic-users used pentagrams drawn and empowered by their vile magic in order to imprison a Demon whose power name they had obtained. Once the Demon was in this trap, it was almost impossible for it to be saved. It was Jacob and Bella’s painful duty to destroy these monsters. But if Elijah had become such a creature, the pain the Enforcers would suffer for being forced to kill the Demon they had chosen to raise their child during the Fostering would be unimaginable.
Elijah meant as much to them as he did to the King and so, so many others. The morale of all of Noah’s forces, so driven, guided, and flushed by Elijah’s very powerful presence, would have a difficult time rallying after a tragedy of that magnitude. The loss of a Demon of Elijah’s power and brilliance would devastate their entire race, and there was no need to mention the open wounds it would leave in dozens of hearts, including the heart of a King.
Noah’s head was aching and he rubbed at his pounding temples. The tension since he’d first noticed something was not right was packed tightly into those two points. Here they were, two of the most powerful of their kind, and they were at a loss? What a sad commentary on the future of their people, Noah thought in a rare, bitter moment of fatalism.
Noah pushed the feelings and the pain in his head aside as he felt Isabella’s approaching energy. She was drained and worried enough without seeing him and Jacob looking thoroughly defeated. Of course, she could read her husband’s mind and emotions as easily as she could read her own, but Noah was another matter. He was supposed to be the strength of his people.
Noah turned with a smile to look at her and her baby.
“Hey, how is my newest subject?” he asked.
“Hungry, as noted,” she said with a laugh. “I need to feed her. I want you two to relax, have a drink, and wait till I get back before you hash this over any more. I am your Enforcer too, Noah, and I will not allow you to coddle me like some fragile bird. Is that understood?”
She gave them both an extremely no-nonsense glare that made them nod obediently.
“Good. If you are going to find Elijah, it’s very likely you will need me to—”
Bella broke off, her entire complexion turning a frightening gray color as her eyes glazed over. Jacob reacted an instant faster than Noah, grabbing her sinking body with one arm while trying to catch the baby up against her with the other. He managed quite well, making Noah’s helping hands seem superfluous as he reached to assist. As soon as she was down, Jacob handed Noah his daughter and bent over his wife to check her pulse and her clammy skin.
“This is too much. It is too soon after the baby for this to keep happening to her,” Jacob bit out as he watched his beloved mate succumb to yet another harrowing vision, very likely about Elijah and the fate he had met. “Noah, I think we better call Gideon. The pregnancy was hard enough, what with Ruth’s attack on her and everything else. I do not like her color, and her heart is racing at an insane pace.”
“Legna is not here anymore,” Noah reminded him. “The only way I can get her attention from here would be to set something near him on fire, and that is not exactly something I feel comfortable doing even with my skill.”
“Well, I cannot exactly grow a tree under him either,” Jacob barked, not marking the tone in his voice in his worry. “And I am too exhausted to drag him here as dust, even if he were not thousands of miles away. Put the baby in her crib and go find a Mind Demon who can either contact Legna so she can teleport them both here, or who can teleport him themselves.”
Jacob and Noah both looked to Isabella when she uttered a hoarse, incomprehensible phrase. However, there was structure to it that Noah thought he recognized. Bella had an affinity for languages that had come with her Druidic powers, so it did not surprise him that a foreign tongue would be part of her visions.
Still, since neither of them recognized it offhand, it meant nothing to them until she came out of her visionary trance and could explain it to them. That was providing she could explain it. Bella’s sight was often more cryptic than not.
“They get stronger and stronger and she gets weaker. What good is a hellish power like this?” her fearful husband asked bitterly. “Sometimes,” he said hoarsely, “I wish I had never touched her. She would not be suffering like this if—”
“Jacob, stop it,” Noah said sharply. “You do not mean that and you know it. You would be lost without her and you would not have this beautiful babe. I swear I am going to pass a law against the guilt you browbeat yourself with constantly. And Isabella will be happy to enforce it for me.”
Noah moved across the room to settle the baby back into her crib. He twisted into a column of smoke a moment later, leaving his Enforcers behind as he sailed out of a window in search of help.
Magdelegna sat up out of a sound sleep with a loud, fearful cry. Instinctively, her hands slid over the little mound of her belly as if protecting the babe within from whatever had disturbed her. She was aware of Gideon coming awake beside her, sitting up and turning protectively toward her. Her husband instantly gathered her to himself, the warmth of his bare skin and fit, male form incredibly comforting as he wrapped his arms around her.
“What is it, Neliss?” he asked softly, pressing gentle lips to the curve of her cheek.
“A dream…I think,” she said.
Gideon pulled back to lock his silvered gaze with hers, his equally silver brows pulling down in a frown of concern.
“You keep having these nightmares. I am beginning to wonder if this is not a form of premonition like Bella’s. We have been waiting for some other changes in your abilities, perhaps it has been here all this time.” Gideon reached to stroke the backs of his fingers slowly down the copious length of Legna’s coffee-colored hair. “Tell me what you dreamed, Nelissuna.”
“It was about Elijah. Something was very wrong. I cannot recall specifics though. Sweet Destiny, I despise this,” she said wearily, rubbing at her temples. “If this is what you suspect, I see now why Bella dislikes this particular type of ability.”
Gideon reached to touch gentle fingertips to Legna’s forehead, closed his eyes a moment, sending a sensation of calm and healing energy into her. It relieved her tension instantly as she smiled a soft, contented smile.
It lasted for a second, then Legna gasped harshly, almost cracking her head into her husband’s as she sat up once more, her eyes wide and her hand slamming into her forehead as she was bludgeoned with a painful cry of distress.
“Noah!”
“Okay, this is not a dream,” Gideon said darkly, hurdling over her to get out of bed and pull her to her feet. “What is occurring?”
“I do not know. We had better go. Right away.”
“Agreed. Though I would recommend clothing before teleportation.”
The jest was just what she needed, making her laugh softly in relief of tension. They dressed quickly and, minutes later, Legna was teleporting them the long distance to her brother’s home.
Elijah was the first to wake well after night had fallen.
He opened his eyes and quickly
became aware of his surroundings.
The first thing he noticed was that he was trapped beneath the weight of a heavily sleeping Lycanthrope female. His chest hurt, the healing wound being pulled by how she was sprawled over him, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was fascinated by the slow creep of the soft tendrils of her hair as they slid over his skin.
He was completely entangled, between her hair and her limbs, but it was the touch of those living fingers of hair that truly held him still. The strands were twisted into satiny sheaves, snaking over his chest, around his biceps, over his hips and thighs with a breathtaking, subconscious sensuality. He had known about the changelings’ living hair, unique to their species, for centuries, but only for purposes of defeating them. If the hair was bound up, the Lycanthrope could not change form. It could literally drive them out of their minds if they were left that way for a week or more. Also, if severed it could cause severe blood loss and could even kill them pretty much on the spot. A shearing of that kind would be similarly lethal to them as third-degree burns over a massive percentage of the body would mean almost certain death for a human.
He had never considered this, however—this silken caress that could stimulate a man from head to toe with its sensual touch. He was very aware of the agonizing response of his body, and that it seemed to draw the flirtatious touch of the curling locks. Elijah groaned softly as the ghosting caress skimmed erotically over the hardened steel of his aroused body. He felt the painful throb of his own pulse beneath that wicked, engulfing stroke. He could not even think, had no hope of devising a way of stopping this devastatingly perfect torture.
Siena literally purred in her sleep. The rumbling trill of sound vibrated from her entire torso, drumming like a gentle massage along the side of his body she was snuggled up against. Her leg slid restlessly over his, her calf slipping up toward his thigh, bringing her knee up between his legs. Elijah closed his eyes tightly, as if bracing for a dangerous impact, but he was not afraid of her causing him physical harm in the expected sense. He reached out to stay her with a hand on that traveling knee. Bad enough her hair was teasing the hell out of him, he didn’t need the feel of her skin against him on top of it.
No matter how much he found himself craving it.
Elijah tried to take a deep, steadying breath, but all he did was fill his lungs with her sweet, tempting scent. He was sweating all along the left side of his body, where hers was so cozy against him. By virtue of her species, she was naturally several degrees hotter than his normal body temperature, but it seemed even more of an extreme in differences as she slept, her damp forehead rubbing restlessly against him. She reeked of their combined scents, just as he did, and he could not escape noticing how erotic and sensual a scent it was. His body throbbed deeply with surges of need, with inexplicable urges to roll over and slide her beneath him. Graphic fantasies played on from that point, involving her taste, her touch, and how hot she felt just along the outside of her body. It was agonizingly easy to understand just how that heat might feel if he were inside her.
His heart began to trip in double time as he realized he had better get as far away from her as he could before he made another Samhain-driven attack on her unsuspecting body. He was soon to realize, however, that disentangling himself from her hair was not going to be at all possible without her cooperation. Not unless he changed form, and, as she had pointed out earlier, it would not be the wisest thing for him to do. Wounds had a way of reopening and even worsening if not given proper healing before attempting such a shift in form. All but the iron wounds and the one in his chest had reached that healing point, but those remaining four would do enough damage.
His only choice was to wake her.
It was, of course, going to be incredibly embarrassing for her. If he could say he knew anything about her, he could definitely assure himself of that.
Elijah had a sudden idea.
He closed his eyes, concentrating carefully on the air in the room. He had to be very cautious, but he slowly lowered the oxygen level in the room. As the breathable air diminished, Siena’s body reacted naturally with a cough reflex. She gasped slightly, her subconscious refocusing from whatever it was that compelled her seeking hair, to a more distinct self-preservation instinct.
He had gambled on those instincts, and they paid off.
She turned away from him restlessly, her hair releasing and surging into tight, protective coils around her. She coughed in earnest, surprisingly enough without awakening. Now that he was freed, everyone’s pride intact whether it was realized or not, Elijah drew a fresh breeze into the room from the front of the cavern. Siena took several breaths immediately, the perspiration on her forehead evaporating in a minute.
Elijah launched out of the bed the minute he was able and backed away from her as if she were some kind of biological contaminant. But in a way, that was exactly what she was. The warrior found a fresh towel to wrap himself in, making a mental note to get himself something resembling actual clothing as soon as possible. He moved into the next room quickly, running both hands through his tangled hair. His own movements made him aware of the fact that her scent was all over him. He swore solemnly as he marched to the biting cold of the mineral pool. It would set him straight like nothing else could in that moment. Leaving his “clothing” behind, he dropped into the pool and completely immersed himself in its startling cold. Being of the air, Elijah was an expert at manipulating his need for oxygen. He remained submerged for several minutes, until he was chilled to his core, before surfacing. He stood to check his bandages, shrugging off the fact that he had a trail of blood and water sliding down his belly. It was minute and well worth the removal of the enchanting scent Siena trailed around wherever she went.
He had to get the hell out of there.
This would only get worse the closer they got to Samhain and stayed together under the influence of the full moon. Certainly, when she woke, Siena would agree with him about abandoning this place and going separate ways.
Provided she was well enough.
But if he was asked, he would have said she seemed too damned healthy as it was.
Legna sat down in her husband’s lap with a sigh, her head dropping onto his shoulder as she searched for comfort. Gideon’s hand went to her back and rubbed it soothingly.
“She looks so pale,” she murmured.
Gideon turned his eyes onto the woman who slept fitfully in the bed nearby. Legna was correct. Isabella was far too pale. In fact, she was anemic. It was a common ailment in human females after giving birth, and it had been exacerbated by all the exertion she had taken part in since then. It was something Gideon could not cure her of. Anemia in humans, even human/Druid hybrids, was caused by a lack of iron in the bloodstream. Iron was the one thing Gideon could not manipulate. Not without making himself very ill. He couldn’t afford to make himself deathly ill when his wife was expecting and their daily life in the Lycanthrope court was still so potentially dangerous.
He could have performed a transfusion from her sister, Corrine, under normal circumstances, but Corrine and Kane, her husband, were nowhere to be found at the moment. Jacob had tried to contact his brother through their own personal telepathic link, but the young Mind Demon had not responded. The link was not strong to begin with, being mostly supported by Kane’s telepathic abilities, and apparently Kane was too distant and too preoccupied to notice the small plea for attention calling into the back of his mind. If he had noticed it, he would have teleported himself to Noah’s home instantly. But these things were to be expected from a fledgling. Kane was close to his adult stage, about to reach his hundredth year, but in spite of his strengths also had many weaknesses to yet overcome.
“Jacob is fetching foods dense with iron and protein for her. It will help a great deal,” he assured his wife, knowing she felt her friend’s sickness keenly.
Legna’s empathic abilities had intensified dramatically since their joining, a result of how a Demon Imprinting so deeply stirr
ed together the male and female’s power, as well as their hearts and souls. Being an Ancient, Gideon’s supremacy of energy was phenomenal, and like nothing Legna could have ever expected. She was still adjusting to the overwhelming source of it six months later.
As a result, she was often besieged by the magnified feelings of those she cared about. She was learning to control the intensity of this growing potential but had not made enough progress as yet to keep herself from being swept up in the pains, as well as the joys, of others.
“I feel like a fledgling all over again,” she complained, reading his thoughts straight out of his mind. Though she was not a telepath, by nature of her sex, she and Gideon shared a specially formed link that kept them constantly within one another’s thoughts. It was the same for Jacob and Bella and all other Imprinted pairs.
“You are too hard on yourself, Neliss,” he soothed, pressing a kiss into her forehead. “You are in danger of sounding like Jacob,” he teased, knowing that Jacob’s constant self-reprisals had a habit of getting under her skin.
“Please, you will make me toss my cookies,” she said wryly.
“Toss your cookies?” Gideon laughed at the phrase.
“I know, I know…I sound like Bella.” Legna giggled in spite of herself. “I cannot help it. She used that term her entire pregnancy. It rubbed off.”
“So I see,” he murmured, reaching to cover her belly with one broad palm. His fingers looked graceful in that way he had, curving over their hidden baby with tenderness and affection.
That was the moment Noah entered the room.
Gideon was happy to see his wife did not move or react in any way. She had a terrible habit of jumping away from him whenever her brother showed up. But as Noah continued to accept their union, she seemed to be less self-conscious.
“I am simply too tired to move,” she whispered defiantly.
“Then for once I am glad of your exhausted state,” he whispered back.
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