by Isis Rushdan
“When Adriel healed my mind, he retained the childhood memories he restored and now they’re like his own. Although he’s never eaten a hot dog, for instance, he has my memory of enjoying one when I was five.”
He didn’t recall letting her go or sitting on a nearby bench, but he must have. As though the wind had been knocked from his lungs, he sat breathless.
“The boy has your memories? Your childhood joy and pain is now his?”
She lowered to her knees in between his legs and pressed her face to his abdomen.
They stayed that way for a long time until she looked up at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a whisper.
“I knew it would hurt you.”
If her reason for hiding this truth was to spare his feelings, he wondered what other truths she kept from him. But to even think there might be more, some secret far worse she feared to share, would drive him mad.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and cradled his head in her bosom. Running her fingers through his hair, she massaged his scalp. “He has a few grains of sand compared to the beach we’ll share. It’s nothing.”
The boy shared something with his mate in a way that he never could. It was a hell of lot more than nothing.
He hauled her onto his lap and she straddled him. He needed to be distracted from the ugly truth. He needed to be reminded of the strength of their union. He needed to believe this connection with Adriel would fade to dust.
“I want you to speak to me in Latin tonight as you take me.” She kissed his neck. “I want to see how much I’ve learned.” She kissed his brow, temples, cheeks, the corners of his lips.
He drove his tongue into her mouth, surrendering his energy stream to her needs.
Blue-white electric bands, thick and vibrating, flowed from her into him. The bands spread up his chest, dissipating the somber heaviness, and down to his crotch, where pleasure caressed him in slow waves.
An oscillating field streaked with bolts encased them in a bubble of light and yearning.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she purred. “I want you to speak to me in Russian.”
He tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back. Her long, elegant neck was his. He kissed her throat, biting, nibbling. “Tonight, I’ll make you beg for more.”
He carried her through the garden back to the main building, caressing svelte thighs. Her legs, breasts, ass—every inch of her was his to do with as he pleased. “Then I’m going to fuck you senseless.”
“Promises, promises.” She stroked the overgrown hair on his face. “When I’m done having my way with you, I’m going to shave this damn beard off.”
“I love you.” Never in his two hundred and forty-six years had he loved or wanted anything more.
“Nothing can change how I feel for you. You are my kabashem. I’ll always love you.”
Her voice was sultry, tempting enough to entice him to forget about the boy. For now.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For the first time in seven weeks, Cyrus was late for dinner. Serenity wrung her hands under the table, staring at the entrance of the dining hall.
The kitchen detail was almost done clearing the food and dirty dishes.
“Sothis says we all need to work harder, move faster and break free from the old traditions of fighting,” Talus said with awe.
From the corner of her eye, Serenity glimpsed Adriel a couple of tables away. He laughed with some of the historians as his gaze gravitated to hers.
They now steered clear of each other at mealtime.
Talus sighed. “Starting tomorrow, she’s making us rise before dawn, but the good thing is we’ll be done well before dinner.”
Nikos came to the table and began to take away the food. Serenity grabbed a platter of potatoes and vegetables, but his warrior-quick fingers snatched it from her grasp.
“Cyrus hasn’t eaten yet. Let me keep something for him.”
“Your kabashem needs to learn he sleeps under the same sky as the rest of us,” Nikos snarled.
“The sun doesn’t live under the sky,” she snapped back.
Adriel waltzed up beside their table, easy-breezy swagger cranked high. “What’s the problem?”
“The evening meal is served at sunset and remains on the table for two hours. If Cyrus wants to eat, he needs to learn to be here on time.”
“I won’t let him starve.” Serenity’s energy stream bristled. She could give Nikos a small blast, enough to set him straight.
“Nikos, be kind,” Adriel said, clasping a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “Let her save something for him.”
Mouth twisting in deliberation, Nikos grimaced. Finally, he shoved the platter of unleavened bread toward her. She wanted to smack him in the face and grab the other platter, but gritted her teeth and accepted the bread. Nikos left with a smug expression.
“Neith probably has them working him overtime,” Talus said. “I can’t believe she made Cyrus work in the kitchen or had him cleaning clothes.”
Serenity glanced back at the entrance.
Adriel remained standing. “Where’s he working this week?”
“The vineyard.”
A half-smile set his cheeks aglow. His golden brown hair spiked with a tad of unruliness gave an edge to his heavenly features. “They’re usually done pretty early.”
“I better go,” Talus said. “I have to be up in a few hours.”
“I’ll go up with you.” Serenity grabbed the plate of bread.
Adriel took the pitcher of water. “He’ll want something to drink.”
They all headed to the walkway.
“Your mother has helped me a lot and hasn’t once mentioned I’m a runt, just another lower level warrior without wings. A manageable handicap,” Talus said.
“I wish you’d stop referring to yourself as handicapped.”
“Your mother calls me that.”
Serenity lowered her head. “Well, she shouldn’t.”
“I have to work twice as hard as the others to be half as good. I love it here. It’s nothing like Herut.” With a wave goodnight, Talus turned down sector two.
Adriel walked Serenity down her sector. “I leave for the mainland in a few days. Do you need anything besides chocolate?”
“No, but I do need your help.”
“Anything within my power to do or give is yours.”
“Neith is still riding me about siphoning and…”
“And what?”
She shook her head, unable to confess she might be taking too much energy from her kabashem. “I’ve tried to reel it in and get control, but it’s like my energy stream has a mind of its own. Do you think you could heal me, maybe help me get back in balance?”
They stopped in front of her door.
“I can try,” he said, his half-smile bordering on sexy. What a deranged fool Evane, his kabashem, must be. Perhaps if she saw his lovely face or tasted his sun-kissed body and feasted on his energy stream she might be swayed to love.
The look in Adriel’s eyes was warm, thoughtful and anything but brotherly.
He leaned in, bringing his face so close she could feel his warmth, and opened the door behind her.
“Can you do it out here in the hallway?” No more private moments behind closed doors.
“I prefer privacy, but if you insist. You should free your hands first.”
She slipped past him inside the room and set the platter and jug on the dresser. She glanced at the unmade bed, clothes strewn on the floor and towel hanging from a chair.
“Excuse the mess.” She went back to the hall, closing the door.
A wild light danced in his amber eyes, and he held out his hands.
Unable to look away from the sparkle in his gaze, she placed her hands in his.
A smile smooth as butter and sweet as honey swept across his face. Her heartbeat quickened. A frisson of excitement coursed through her, making her face burn with shame.
His hand
s grew hot, his palms glowed. His gaze drifted to the floor, an odd cant to his head. A deep crease formed on his brow, the smile falling from his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Stepping back, he released her hands. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Everything about him shifted. All gaiety disappeared. His confident demeanor swayed to uneasy. “I can’t help you.” Even his whimsical accent was gone.
He turned to leave.
“Adriel?”
He hesitated, not looking back at her. “I’m sorry, the imbalance is beyond me.” He spoke the words as if she were dying, and then simply left.
She drifted into her room and shut the door.
The imbalance is beyond me. Something was definitely wrong with her and if Adriel couldn’t fix the problem, there was no way to stop the drain on her mate.
She kicked the bag Elianus had dropped off last week in frustration. Cyrus had propped it against the dresser and hadn’t touched it since, as if waiting for fairies to unpack it. With a sigh, she unzipped the duffel bag. Inside were more black military uniforms, jeans, boots and shoes. She neatly folded his belongings and put them away in the dresser.
As she neared the bottom, she came across some of her things. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she put her clothes away. Only one item remained. Her cognac-colored leather case with her crossbow. She pulled it out and noticed a black satchel underneath. Made of leather it had slots for bolts and a strap to secure her crossbow. He had a quiver made for her.
Pounding against the door made it rattle on the hinges. Before she could say anything, it opened. Elianus stood in the doorway, holding up Cyrus by the waist.
Serenity rose and gave him room to enter. Cyrus had an arm draped over Elianus, singing in Russian. His eyes were glassy and she couldn’t be sure if he even knew where he was.
“I found him in the garden, singing to a tree.”
“He’s drunk?”
“Very,” Elianus said with a nod.
“But liquor and wine have no effect on him.”
Cyrus gazed at her. “I was the tester.” His words slurred. “My metabolism fastest,” he uttered through a sloshed grin, “and I said yeah, sure.”
“What did you test?” she asked.
Elianus dragged him inside the room. He could barely put one foot in front of the other.
“All of it,” Cyrus said, waving his hand out.
Elianus put him down on the bed. Cyrus sat, wobbling, and then fell straight back like a chopped down tree.
The weight of his body broke the bamboo legs of the bed, bringing the frame to the floor in a crunch.
“Did they just leave you alone outside?” she asked.
Cyrus nodded. “No.” He laughed as though the response was funny.
“He wasn’t alone,” Elianus explained. “I found three others from the vineyard detail hiding behind some bushes. They were going to bring him up, but they said he was more entertaining to watch.”
“What did they give you to drink?” she asked Cyrus.
His head flew up from the mattress, but his shoulders stayed planted. “Elixir of the gods.”
“Was it wine?”
He laughed. “No it wasn’t…it had grapes and wood.”
Serenity frowned in confusion and looked to Elianus.
“They were experimenting with a distilled beverage, something about trying to infuse the properties of a tree in the brew. They say they were successful.”
Cyrus began to laugh hysterically, holding his stomach.
She brushed his disheveled hair from his face. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know.”
She got a cup and filled it with water.
“There’s no need.” Elianus pointed to Cyrus who now lay sprawled and asleep in the center of the bed.
“Thank you for bringing him to the room.”
“It’s my duty and honor to watch over him in all things.” He bowed. “I must take my leave. Sothis insists we report before dawn tomorrow.”
“Could you spare a few minutes?” She ushered him into the hallway and closed the door.
“If it pleases you.”
Elianus had been a spectator to the bloom of Cyrus’s first love, to the violation of Herut’s edicts and his greatest transgression. For twenty-three years, Elianus bore witness to the love affair with Lysandra and saw firsthand how the shame of that choice desolated her kabashem’s heart. It agitated her to meet the only other person besides Abbadon who had seen Cyrus entangled with another woman, but she was done running from difficult things.
“I’ve often wondered what he was like when he was younger.”
“Reckless, full of rebellion and had a horrid temper, but age has done a fine job of mellowing his disposition.” Elianus had a rich bass voice that resounded from deep within. Listening to him made her think of smooth jazz and dark chocolate. “A great conflict has raged in his heart since he was a youngling. He always wanted to leave House Herut, whether it was a longing born in his soul or adverse seeds planted by the Council’s affection, I don’t know. The harder they worked to garner his love, the more they drove him away.”
“Is that why he left?”
“He never felt the calling to serve Herut. Wanderlust pumped in his veins. He often imagined stumbling upon his kabashem while traversing a mountain or in the crowded streets of a foreign city. When he left, it was Constantine’s greatest fear that he would have a Whitescape while away and never return.”
“Cyrus said Constantine told him he was certain he would return one day.”
Elianus scoffed. “Constantine believed if he found you on his journey of self-discovery during those wild years that Herut would have lost him forever.”
As they lingered by the railing of the open air outlet near her door, Serenity contemplated his words. A slip of silver moon hung high in the sky. Streaks of charcoal-colored clouds obscured the stars.
“You were with him in Panama?” She already knew the answer.
“Yes.” He stared out into the evening, burly, six-five frame tensing. His nutmeg arms were at least three times the size of hers, his neck strong and veined like a tree trunk, his head smooth as a polished eggshell.
“What was Abbadon’s sister like?” To mention her name would have flooded her stream with ire, sharp as razor blades.
“Have Cyrus and Abbadon never discussed Lysandra?”
Her gut churned. “Once, the night she killed Cassian. But all I know is the monster she became calling herself Artemis, not the woman that spent time at his side and in his bed.”
He folded his arms and lowered his head. “You should address your questions about Lysandra to Cyrus.”
“You swore to keep him from all harm if possible.”
The affront shone clearly in his eyes. “I would do anything to protect you both.”
“I haven’t brought it up with Cyrus because it would cause him unnecessary pain. You could spare him that with a few simple answers.”
“Abbadon has sent her on to the afterlife. This shouldn’t weigh on your heart and mind.”
But it did. If Cyrus had been the one to take Lysandra’s head, there’d be no need for such a discussion. She rested her forearms on the railing and clasped her hands. “Did Cyrus tell you I was living with someone when he found me, a human?”
“He spoke of Evan Wade.”
“Cyrus was curious and wanted to meet him. Hell, he even went so far as to become his client.” She met his gaze, hoping to see a shred of empathy in his dark brown eyes. “I want to know more about the woman who had him first. She had great love for him, I think. She must’ve to strike at his heart with such vengeance. All I know is the beast, and nothing of the beauty that captured him.”
Elianus gripped the railing. “She was steady and adroit, much like Abbadon,” he began softly, recalling days more than two hundred years ago. “A lovely fountain of patience, well-versed in poetry and philosophy, and quite adept with a sword.”
“I don’t believe he was prepared for her charms. She was a beauty, but it was her wit and candor that I think enticed him. At Herut, everyone had an agenda where he was concerned. Although they had genuine love for him, they also knew the power he’d one day wield. Lysandra asked nothing of him. He found it refreshing.”
“But it went beyond friendship.”
“Yes.”
“Did you condone it?”
“No, but not for the same reasons as Abbadon. It didn’t bother Abbadon that it was his twin sister Cyrus bedded. It was the violation of Herut’s precepts. For me, I didn’t like the way he treated her. Even as it started Cyrus knew it would not last and did not care. I couldn’t condone his use of her as a diversion to quench his curiosity or as a means to prove that Herut wouldn’t rule him. It was unworthy of him.”
“Did he love her?”
Elianus stared at her, wariness in his eyes. A static charge clipped the edge of her hungry energy stream as she connected to Elianus’s pool. He looked startled by her question and forced connection as she siphoned energy.
“I cannot tell you what was in his heart. I can tell you that she had Cyrus the boy while you have the man.”
His words and the connection to his stream put her at ease. Her agitation faded and a sense of harmony oscillated in her pool.
“Their relationship has haunted him every day since, a cataclysmic bêtise that bound him to Herut through disgrace. Herut would have preferred he returned out of love, but they were willing to take him any way they could.” Compassion reflected in a glimmer of his eye. “It isn’t wise to be a friend to one’s charge. It can cloud the judgment and endanger their life. He called me after he brought you to Valhalla. In the weeks that passed, I heard a change in him and knew your union could sunder him from Herut. After your injury when he stayed at your bedside, waiting for you to wake, I would’ve staked my life that he would’ve walked away from us to live a free life with you.”