He dropped to his knees, fearing he was going to pass out. He could not falter or the female would destroy him. His shoulders buckled under the weight of his head and he breathed hard as he pressed his cheek to the cool dirt. He focused on the roots of a nearby tree. The drowsier he felt, the less he seemed to fear dying. He was suddenly too exhausted to care.
He blinked with heavy, slow movements and saw a flash of his farm in his mind. With each flash came silence, away from the incessant cackling above. Silence. Cackle. Silence. Cackle. Silence, no wait, screaming. He knew that voice. He shut his eyes and went to the voice. His visions became jumbled, too much at once, the farm, the woods, the trees, Annalise, blood, a blurred flash of an infant. What was happening?
“Anna?” he wheezed.
“Cain?”
“Anna, where are you?”
“Cain, what’s happening to me? There’s blood! It hurts! Make it stop!”
“Where are you? Show me?”
Suddenly his vision stilled and Anna stood before him on the farm. She was naked, her belly slightly swollen where the baby grew. Her shoulder was bleeding as was her throat and chest and parts of her face close to her hairline. Cain reached for his own throat and felt the identical wound.
“Is this real or a dream? I don’t understand. I’m not sleeping.”
“Cain, it’s real. I feel everything you feel. Make it stop!”
Cain felt their connection get severed and the sound of that insidious cackling reverberated down to his last nerve. Anna was in pain. She was feeling everything he felt. He thought about that for a moment while he tried to regain some of his strength. Cain felt like he was at death’s door. If Anna was experiencing what he was experiencing he was not only endangering her, but the baby as well.
“You fucking bitch!”
Cain jumped to his feet and lunged into the trees above. Possessed by his beast within, he grabbed hold of the female’s throat and immediately silenced her cackling. He had a moment of pleasure when he saw her shock register. He threw her from the branch and watched as her body landed in a heap with a disgusting crunch on the ground.
He followed her down, but with a bit more grace. Blood trickled from his scalp into his eyes, but he did not let it slow his advance on her. She stood, body broken and mangled in a way that would have ended a mortal’s life. Dragging her broken leg behind her, she slithered toward him. Her head lay limp upon her shoulder, her neck useless.
“Last chance, bitch. Tell me who your sire is.”
She cackled. “He will not let you kill me. Isaiah love me.”
“That’s what I thought.” Cain sprung forward and punched his claws straight through her chest. He grabbed hold of her heart and yanked it back out of her chest cavity with a disgusting slurp and pop. She blinked at him once, then fell lifeless to the ground.
Cain breathed deeply as rain began to fall quietly around him, washing away the blood. He still clenched her heart in his fist, never letting it go until it slowly solidified and then crumbled like dust between his fingers. He watched as her body did the same.
Cain shut his eyes and called on the wind. He watched without one bit of satisfaction as her particles were carried away and erased from this world. Once everything was cleaned up, all traces of his camp and the battle removed, he found his way out of the woods and fled to where he needed to be.
* * * *
Adam cradled Annalise on his lap and quietly rocked her back and forth. He had no explanation for what had happened. He only knew it seemed to be over.
Her wounds had closed and were now nothing more than pink puckers of scar tissue that would soon heal as well. He had given her his blood and waited, refusing to accept any possibility other than her complete recovery at the moment. His mother had told him how Anna had fed her. As much as Adam did not believe that had anything to do with her attack, he could no longer suffer his mother’s guilt-ridden apologies. He had told all of them to leave him alone with his mate.
She had been sleeping now, peacefully for over an hour. Gracie assured him the baby was fine and Adam had decided the healer was useless for anything other than veterinary concerns. A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.” Cain stepped into the room looking haggard and winded. “What has happened to you?”
“Is she all right?”
“This is your doing?” Adam demanded.
“I didn’t know,” Cain answered in a tortured voice. “Is she all right? The baby?” He gently placed the backs of his knuckles upon her cheek and Adam growled.
Through clenched teeth, he demanded, “How did this happen, Cain?”
“I don’t know. I was in a fight, in the woods. As soon as I realized what was happening, I ended it.”
“She almost bled out!” he roared.
“I’m so, so sorry, Adam. I swear I didn’t know.”
“Get out.” He could not tolerate the sight of anyone at that moment, least of all Cain.
“Adam.” At the small plea they both looked down. Annalise had waken and was now looking up at him beseechingly. “Be nice to Cain. It wasn’t his fault.”
“Ainsicht, are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“I need you to apologize to Cain. As soon as he realized what was happening, he intervened and possibly saved my life.” It seemed every word was a chore, but she continued. Turning to his brother she awkwardly took his hand. “And, you, don’t let it happen again.”
Chapter 16
Larissa sat in the bathtub and frowned. Her twenty-four hours had expired. Yet, here she sat, in her lovely little modern apartment, bishop waiting in the wings, and not a single idea what to do. He had touched her. Bishop King had touched her and she liked it. What was happening to her?
She watched as white, foamy bubbles melted into flat puddles of suds resting on the water’s surface and waited for reality to set in. He was her mate. Not Silus, but Eleazar, the bishop. There was some part of her that could not believe it to be so. She had come to the conclusion that her days on the farm were over and, if she ever were to return, it would be as nothing more than Silus Hostetler’s obedient wife, living out her miserable existence. But, according to the bishop, that was not the way things were going to be.
She had dreamt. The experience was altogether odd and somewhat unsettling. She had seen the bishop lounging in a room she did not recognize. Her happiness from the dream had penetrated her sleeping mind. She was there, lounging beside the bishop, yet also somehow watching the scene play out. He had held a ruby-colored ribbon and trailed it over her naked breasts until the flesh tightened and goose bumps covered her soft skin.
There was no shame in the dream. She felt no instinct to cover herself. She simply allowed his touch and heard herself laughing. When he smiled over her, she smiled back. He was quite beautiful, lounging beside her, his chest as bare as her own.
Larissa looked down at her body half-hidden by the tepid water. She slowly brought her fingertips to her breast and touched the soft tip, remembering how the bishop had made her breast feel heavy and achy. Her damp fingers left a trail over the darker skin and she gasped as her flesh pulled tight before her eyes in the chilled air. You are not cold, he had assured her. Yet she had a collection of memories as Silus’s wife that told her different.
A knock on the door had her gasping and jerking her hand below the water.
“Larissa?”
“Yes?” Her voice sounded a bit high-pitched.
The knob began to turn. Larissa panicked and quickly scooted as far under the water as her long legs would permit. Her knees sloshed above the surface, deflated bubbles running down her skin as she locked them together and crossed her arms over her chest. The audacity of this man just walking in on her!
Eyes wide, she snapped, “It is common courtesy to announce one’s self before barging in on a female.” He looked at her and her face burned with embarrassment. She felt as if he could see right through her hands covering her body. She looked to the to
ilet and wondered if she should snag the towel sitting there to cover her more appropriately.
“I did announce myself.”
“And then you entered before I invited you in!” He shook his head as if her aversion to being seen while bathing was completely ridiculous. “Would you please turn around, Bishop?” He slowly turned and Larissa did not miss the way that his lip twitched as if he wanted to laugh at her.
“I have decided it is late and we would be better leaving tomorrow. Today was taxing for both of us and I would rather not return to the farm until certain things are better…prepared for.”
“That’s fine, Bishop. Now could you please leave,” she answered in a quick, clipped tone.
“You know, Larissa, as your mate, I will not allow walls between us. You must grow comfortable with your body. While I prefer modesty around others, when it is just the two of us I would prefer openness. You need not be shy around me.”
Her heart began to race. Although he was no longer looking at her, she felt as if he could see her discomfort. She knew he could sense it. She slid lower in the tub, wishing the water was a touch warmer. “Understood. Now please go.”
To her outrage he slowly turned and faced her. “When you are finished in here, we are going to address a few things.” Then he left. The door quietly clicked shut behind him. Larissa pressed her face into her palms and moaned.
A few minutes later, Larissa was cursing herself for only bringing a towel into the bathroom with her. No doubt the bishop was sitting right there in her den, waiting for her to emerge. She shifted from foot to foot, debating what to do. Should she simply walk out and move directly to her bedroom to dress or perhaps wait to see if he fell asleep. She jumped when she heard him on the opposite side of the door.
“Is there something you need, Larissa?”
She pressed her forehead into the wooden door. “I seem to have forgotten my clothing, Bishop King.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She heard him chuckle. Although she adored the open femininity of which English women were permitted to dress, around the bishop she could not help but regress to her Amish modesties. While she could bare herself to a room full of mortal strangers, there was something frightening about showing even a speck of intimate flesh to her powerful and immortal leader. She felt it best to constantly remind herself of what he was capable of. The bishop was not a man often told no.
“Would you please…be so kind as to bring me my robe?”
She heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall to her bedroom and then heavy footfalls approaching as he returned. When he did not announce himself again she tentatively said, “Bishop?”
“Is it too much to ask that you say my name, Larissa?”
She shut her eyes. Never would she survive eternity with a man she found so intimidating. Softly she whispered, “Eleazar.”
She stepped back as he opened the door. He simply stood in the hall, waiting, her robe held open for her in his arms. Her face burned. Was it his goal in life to humiliate her every way possible? She hesitated a moment and he cocked an eyebrow at her.
Slowly, Larissa stepped out of the bathroom. Holding her towel tight to her body she maneuvered first one arm and then the other through the billowy sleeves of the robe. Eleazar’s warm breath fanned over the back of her neck, tickling the fine wisps of hair that had slipped from her clip and gotten damp from her bath.
Before she could draw her arms together, the bishop reached around her body and loosened the towel, sending it to the floor in an unceremonious heap. She shivered as he slowly ran the backs of his knuckles down the slope of her breast. Before she could protest his touch, he reached for the lapels of the robe and drew them together. He then carefully knotted the belt around her waist and placed a kiss to the back of her neck.
She felt dizzy and warm. She stepped away from his hold and faced him, but was careful to keep her gaze lowered to the floor. “Thank…thank you,” she stuttered.
His fingers tipped up her chin until she looked into his eyes. “No walls, Larissa. Now come, let us talk.”
She watched his tall, broad form move down the hall and slowly pressed a cool hand to her overheated cheek. What was this effect he had on her? On wobbly legs she followed him, all too aware of her nudity under the robe. She was suddenly missing her Amish gowns very much.
Rather than meet him in the den where he sat waiting, she detoured to the kitchen and pulled a mug down from the cabinet. Unable to forget her manners, she asked, “Would you care for a cup of tea, Bish—Eleazar?”
“Tea would be lovely.”
She took her time heating the kettle and steeping the tea, waiting for her nerves to settle. It was not that he frightened her as if he would harm her. It was just that she did not trust herself around him. He made her incredibly aware of the fact that she was female and he was male.
She watched him as she spooned a bit of sugar into her cup. He was much taller than Silus. She much preferred his scent to her husband’s as well. His darker skin showed traces of his European roots. She had heard that he was originally from Spain, but spent much of his youth in other parts of Europe. She wasn’t sure how he had come to America other than that he arrived on The Charming Nancy with the rest of the elders.
His hair was thick and a glossy shade of black. He usually wore it combed back, but since he had arrived, it seemed a little less severely styled. Her fingers tingled at the memory of feeling those soft strands between her fingers. She liked that he wore it short rather than long like many of the other elders.
Larissa stirred her tea and pursed her lips. He was much older than she. He must think of her as a little girl, inexperienced and still a bit foolish about the ways of the world. Larissa knew she was sometimes naive, but she suddenly felt more self-conscious for being so. He had said he was happy with God’s choice, but surely he would have preferred someone closer to his own age. She could not imagine the things he had seen in his lifetime. For Larissa, she had only truly gotten a glimpse of the outside world in the past few months.
With shaky hands, Larissa carefully carried the steaming mugs to the den. She placed Eleazar’s on the table and held hers as she settled into the chair across from him and waited for him to begin the discussion he was so set on having.
He sipped his tea and thanked her. When he placed it back on the table he sighed. “I have been thinking about your predicament, Larissa. Once we return I will inform the council of our situation and have the paperwork drawn up to annul your marriage. I will not inform Silus until his signature is required, however I have no doubt he will be quite anxious to see you once we return.”
She looked down and considered the many ways Silus could welcome her home. None were pleasant.
“He will not harm you, Larissa. If you wish it, I will not allow him to even speak to you until he signs the paperwork and accepts that you are no longer his wife.”
“He will be outraged.”
“No doubt.” His brow crinkled slightly. “Why is it that you do not assert yourself more around him?”
She scoffed. “I beg your pardon?”
“I do not mean to offend you. Perhaps I phrased that wrong. What I meant is, I have been on the receiving end of your power. It is quite impressive. For the most part, I hold the records of every discipline possessed by every member of The Order. Silus does not have any notable gifts. I am merely wondering how it is, that in a year of marriage, how you have never…asserted your power over him.”
“I have no power over Silus.”
“Of course you do. You possess great strength. If you can cripple me, a male ten times your age, surely you could affect Silus.”
She shook her head. Her gifts had always consisted of the basic disciplines. Compulsion, speed, agility, rapid healing. Never had she displayed an aptitude for any other powers. “What I did to you was a fluke. I think it was actually more your doing than my own. Never in my life have I ever done something like that, nor do I believe I could do it again if I wanted to.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
She focused on his dark eyes and pushed. She could feel no opening in his mind. Her shoulders slumped and she let out a breath. “It is not possible.”
He tilted his head. “Now I am going to try to come into your mind. I want you to focus on keeping me out.”
She adjusted herself more into her seat and shut her eyes. She felt the flicker of his presence in her mind and forced down a wall guarding her thoughts. When the bishop gave a sharp hiss, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He shook his head. “You are strong, Larissa.”
“I don’t know how I am doing that.”
“The harder I pushed, the harder you pushed back. There is no one on the farm who can keep me out if I want into their minds, yet you can.”
“I swear it is not always so. Even little Gracie can break into my thoughts at times.”
“I believe you. It is something we will play with to try to understand better.”
“I am sorry.”
His brows pulled low over his eyes in a fierce scowl. “Why should you be sorry?”
“I…I don’t know. I…you wanted to see my thoughts and I disobeyed you.”
“They are your thoughts, Larissa. If you do not wish to share them, that is your choice. It does not matter who is asking permission. You have every right to say no.”
She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with the long tie of her robe. When he did not say anything for several minutes she looked up and caught him watching her with a peculiar expression on his face. He cleared his throat and leaned forward to pick up his tea. After taking a sip, he replaced the mug and continued.
“I need to know if you plan on fighting me about our situation.”
“Fighting you?”
Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 18