Destiny Calls

by Lydia Michaels

  He had sacrificed everything, the highest honored gift among immortals for his brother and Anna, but apparently that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for him to sentence himself to a lonesome existence on his own. No. He couldn’t even do something deserving of praise like hunting down a danger to both immortals and humans because it could pose a danger to her. Would his debt ever earn him anything beyond intolerant and judgmental scrutiny?

  He had merely wanted to hold some form of worth to someone. Finding Isaiah would mean putting an end to the females being murdered. It would have been an admirable accomplishment, something his elders had not been able to accomplish without risking danger to themselves.

  Widowed mates didn’t last long. Many of the elders couldn’t risk dying at the hands of a feeish rogue. Their mates forbade it, but Cain had no one waiting on him, nor would he ever. He thought to follow one sacrifice with another, but here he was being gainsaid by higher powers beyond his control.

  His heart constricted. If not a mate and if not a warrior dedicated to protecting The Order, then what was he? What purpose did he serve? Such a useless existence with no sight of a hopeful future was enough to make a male want to end it all. Yet, there again, he could not, for fear of taking innocent Annalise with him.

  “I understand,” he whispered, and she said nothing. There was nothing more to say. Adam had, as always, told the truth. Cain was not welcome there. “I just needed to know that you’re well. It will never happen again. Just tell me you’re all right.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the pain of having what felt like a thousand heart attacks paired with the fear that my unborn child’s life was being ripped away from me. The horror of not knowing what it is that grips your life in its hands. The healer said only because I’m a new transition with newly generated cells did my body heal so quickly. You should be grateful. He promises the baby is well.”

  Now it was he who couldn’t look her in the eye. “Well, for what it is worth, I’m sorry. I will spend eawichkeit trying to do right by you to make up for the pain I’ve caused you and yours. I’ll leave you to rest. I give you my word, so that you must sacrifice nothing else because of me, I won’t even approach you in our dreams until you’re ready to forgive me. Please do not avoid sleep because of this. I won’t disturb you again.”

  Any acceptance she gave in that moment would be forced and false. He turned before she could offer any reply at all and walked away.

  As Cain took fast, heavy steps toward the barn, he felt the bite of tears and an uncomfortable lump of frustration form in the back of his throat as emotion choked him. He angrily stomped on, refusing to give in to such kintish behavior.

  As he dipped into the shade of the empty work barn, he slammed his fist against a heavy support beam, rattling the structure. His head came up quickly when a soft feminine gasp sounded from the shadows. Could nothing go right for him?

  “Cain? Is that you?”

  He squinted through the shadows at the young female. Hope Rocke stood there holding a tool used to shave down wood. “What are you doing here, Hope?”

  “My father sent me to retrieve a tool that Adam had said he could borrow.” She held it up in her petite hand. It was an image that was altogether wrong.

  Hope was an unattached female he had shared many fine evenings with by the lake after service. She was light skinned with small breasts. Her hair was the color of wheat, and she had the softest spattering of freckles across the hidden slopes of her shoulders and one delectable beauty mark on her inner right thigh.

  “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t feel like being social. He was tired of feeling. He would take whatever distraction he could find in order to make his mind cease for a moment’s peace. So many times he had sought a moment’s peace from the disquiet of his life with the company of a willing female. He and Hope had often shared moments of distraction.

  He stepped toward her, quickly took her wrist in his hand, and pulled her farther into the shadows of the barn without a word. She went with him readily. When he reached a small stall hidden from the view of anyone walking by, he corralled her into the tight space reeking with the thick scent of hay and reached for her narrow hips.

  Her mouth opened under his immediately, and her daring little tongue played with his. His kiss was almost punishing. Yet Hope had committed no crime against him. His fingers quickly pulled at the ties of her apron, and the fabric fell loose at her front. The clunk of the tool she held falling to the soft straw-covered ground filled the darkness just before her slim arms reached up to grasp his shoulders.

  Without preamble, he bunched up her skirts. He found her center and worked his hand beneath the ties of her undergarments. She moaned, and he brushed across her dewy curls, hesitating.

  Cain tapped her feet with his boot, and she spread her legs farther apart, yet he stilled before his fingers pressed into her sex. What was happening to him? He growled.

  Changing tactics, she whimpered with need as his hand found her breasts. Had they always been so tiny? Hope was twenty-eight, far past her pubescent years, yet she suddenly seemed to possess the body of a little boy. His hand slid down to her waist as her fingers frantically worked the snap of his pants. She was so slim, almost frail or sickly. He stepped back to take his pleasure, but when he looked down at his cock as she released it from his pants, he frowned.

  “I have missed you, Cain,” she said breathily into the quiet and dim corner of the barn.

  When he looked into those pale eyes that weren’t the brown shade he wanted to see, his libido deflated. He no longer wanted to continue. His erection flagged, and he quickly jerked his body back, causing her to release his flesh. She looked up at him as if she had a secret and then in the next moment dropped to her knees.

  “No,” he barked.

  “No?” Confusion showed in her insipid blue eyes.

  There was no way he would admit defeat when it came to pleasing a woman. Cain had never left a female unfulfilled in his life. He quickly yanked her to her feet and forced himself to kiss her as his thigh wedged between her legs. She moaned and dragged her sex over his muscled thigh, bringing herself to climax. It was the best he could offer and still he felt disgusted with himself. She cried out her release in the still of the empty barn and pressed her forehead to his shoulder as she caught her breath. Cain wondered how long he had to hold her before he could leave.

  Ten minutes after helping Hope right her clothes and find her bonnet, Cain was standing alone in the barn once more. What had just happened? Never in his life had he been too upset for intercourse.

  He didn’t like admitting his emotions had control of his actions. There was no room in his life for sadness. Sadness was what those victims’ families faced after their mother or sister or daughter didn’t come home from the woods because one of The Order’s own was running around raping and murdering innocents. Thinking of which, he had one more stop to make before he faced the bishop.

  Cain left the barn and headed toward his grandparents’ home. He saw her before she saw him. She was sitting on the porch in a small puddle of winter sunshine that grew as he watched her.

  She held a faceless doll in her hands, and her blonde hair whipped out from beneath her bonnet and across her rosy cheeks. Those haunted blue eyes that looked out at the world belonged to a child, yet had seen unnamable horrors for a girl of a mere eleven years. She stared off into another place and time.

  She was too old for dolls, but Cain imagined her silence made it difficult to play with peers. The dolls were a shield. They didn’t expect her to talk back the way other children would.

  His feet crunched on the gravel and Cybil’s head jerked in his direction. He saw the moment she realized it was him and not Adam. She breathed in a silent gasp, and the doll fell forgotten to the planked porch floor. Her blue eyes twinkled as she launched herself off of the steps, bunched up her long gown and cloak, and came barreling toward him. Her bonnet flew like a
feather into the wind. Her hair was in nothing more than one lone, unpinned braid. Cain laughed and lowered himself to his haunches holding his arms wide as she propelled herself into his embrace. Warmth spread through his chest.

  “Hello, munchkin.” He pressed his lips into her hair and breathed in the sweet smell of youth. “I’ve missed you.”

  Cybil hugged him with a ferocity that couldn’t be faked, and he thought…this is love. As she pulled away she looked at him, tears of joy in her eyes, and cupped her small pink fingers to the hard curve of his jaw. She shook her head as if to say she hadn’t expected him to return.

  “I told you I would be back. Look at you in your new clothing. Do you like them?”

  She curled her lip to one side and stuck out her tongue. Her nose wrinkled, and he laughed. Her expression then grew serious, and she pointed to his chest then slowly opened her fingers and lowered her palm toward the ground and held it still. She looked at him again and made two fists, with her thumbs and pinkies pointing outward and thrust them toward the ground. He tried to understand what she was saying.

  “Am I staying?” he asked, and she nodded. “For a bit, yes.” Her unguarded smile took her face hostage, and she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed tight.

  Cybil and her older brother, Dane, had lost their mother in the woods just last fall. Although Dane was coping with his loss as much as a young seventeen-year-old boy pretending to be a man could, Cybil was making no such strides.

  She hadn’t spoken since the day the two of them had lost their mother. According to Dane they had come face-to-face with their mother’s murderer, Isaiah.

  Although Cain had never come right out and announced to the two mortal children what he and his kin were, it would only be a matter of time before they found out. Cain just hoped they were wise enough to realize that they all weren’t like his uncle. He also hoped Cybil could at least hold on to her youth, what was left of it, a bit longer before she discovered what he actually was.

  He chatted as they walked hand in hand up to the porch. She seemed excited to show him certain belongings she had procured on the farm, but made disgruntled faces about most of them, as they were much more prudent than typical English belongings for a girl of her age.

  After Cain said hello to his Nanna Faith, Cybil convinced him to join her on the floor for a game of checkers by the woodstove. It was the first time in a long time that Cain believed his presence was genuinely wanted, and he decided in that moment that the bishop could wait a while longer.

  Chapter 6

  “Time to wake up, dear.”

  Destiny stretched and curled into the cloud she was sleeping on. It was so good to be home. She tried to remember what day it was, but for the life of her couldn’t find any mental footprints that told her whether it was a lazy Saturday or a weekday filled with obligations. And then she heard the galloping sound of a horse going by.

  She stiffened mid-stretch and slowly opened her eyes. Not her bed, someone else’s. And she certainly wasn’t home. Her peripheral caught pale mint-colored walls, some sort of vase and bowl on a bureau that reminded her of something her grandmother had owned, and—she stilled—a beautiful nun looking at her. Oh shit.

  “Did you sleep well?” the nun asked.

  What the hell? She quickly scrambled into a sitting position and was grateful she was still clothed. Had the man, Cain, dropped her off at some convent tucked in the mountains? She frowned. Why couldn’t she remember getting here? She looked down at the quilt that covered her lap. It was obvious by the craftsmanship and complex detail that it had been handmade. The nuns were probably blind from the intricate needlework.

  Her hand went to her back. It felt fine from what she could tell through the clothing. She was wearing his shirt, so he hadn’t been a dream. She just couldn’t figure out what parts were real. Had she been drugged?

  “Where am I?”

  “On a farm.” The nun smiled and stood. She moved to the vase thing on the bureau and poured water into a glass. “Here you go.”

  She took the glass and inspected it. She wasn’t sure what she should be looking for. It looked like water and felt lukewarm against her palm. Hesitantly she took a sip. She was parched. The nun turned and was then facing Destiny with a bowl of something hot. Soft ribbons of steam curled from the bowl into the air and she smelled something that immediately had her mouth watering.

  “I made you chicken and dumpling soup. Is that all right?”

  She was a little thrown by the hospitality she was receiving. “Yes, um, thank you, Sister.”

  The nun grinned, and what was once a beautiful face was suddenly transformed into something stunning. Why would a girl of such perfection give her life away to a convent? If Destiny looked anything like the tall, lithe creature before her, people would have a hard time getting even a scrap of clothing on her body. They could forget her ever covering her hair and skin from wrists to ankles in some sort of nunnery. Screw that.

  “You may call me Sister Larissa if you like.”

  Destiny nodded and took a sip of the soup. She moaned in pleasure. “Stop it…”

  “I am sorry?” Sister Larissa asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I just meant this soup…it’s incredible.”

  The young nun preened and folded her hands together, apparently taking great pleasure in watching Destiny eat. Surprisingly, for as starved as she was, her stomach could only handle half the serving, which sort of pissed Destiny off because those dumplings were apparently made from the same thing as orgasms.

  “I’m going to need this recipe,” Destiny moaned as she wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin Sister Larissa handed her. “Thank you so much.”

  “You are quite welcome.” She stood and collected the half-finished bowl. “When you’re ready to have more, just let me know. There is a whole pot left on the woodstove. I’ll be right back.”

  The girl disappeared, and Destiny took a moment to survey the room. It was very simple. Light mint-green walls, dark green shades upon the windows that boasted deep inset sills. Turning, she saw hard wood floors, a braided mat, a dresser, and a wooden chair. Destiny supposed this would be what a convent looked like. She remembered some of the historical romances she read. She had gone through a pretty intense stage with Beatrice Small and recalled one romance about an innocent girl who was meant to be a nun, but the king gave her to a soldier. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  As Sister Larissa came back into the room, Destiny put her silly thoughts aside. Funny, the young woman didn’t look like a traditional nun. Her habit was more like a bonnet and her robes were more like a dress and apron, almost prairie-like garb. Maybe she was in that stage Julie Andrews was in, just before she was shipped off to the Von Trapps.

  “I imagine Cain should be back soon.”

  The mention of the man surprised Destiny. She assumed he had just dumped her there. “Is there a phone I can use?”

  Sister Larissa tilted her head curiously. “We do not use such things.” That couldn’t be right, Destiny thought.

  There was a knock on the door, and another young girl peeked in. Another nun. “Pardon me,” the girl said then turned to Sister Larissa. “Lazarus just delivered a letter from mother. They have arrived and are in good health.”

  Sister Larissa sighed. “Wonderful.” She then turned to Destiny and said, “Our mother and father have taken a trip. It is something that isn’t usually permitted, but I felt they needed to get away so I managed to convince the bishop.” She smirked as if she were recalling a secret.

  “You two are sisters?” Destiny asked.

  “Yes,” they both answered at the same time.

  The sound of horse hooves in the distance formed a slow, meandering tempo as they drew near. Destiny rubbed her temple. She almost felt as though she were Rip Van Winkle, but had somehow woken up back in time.

  She quickly looked for anything that told her she was still in the new millennium, but frowned when her personal items, that held proof of pres
ent day, sat beside her. Before she could ask for the date, a male voice called out.

  “We are in here.” Larissa stood.

  A man ducked into the room, and the air went out of it. There were just certain people who were imposing without speaking a single word. This tall man with dark black hair and onyx eyes was one of them.

  “Destiny, this is Bishop King,” Larissa introduced as she smiled beside the now-scowling bishop.

  “Hi,” Destiny replied shyly.

  “Who is this?” the bishop demanded of the nuns.

  Larissa’s sister took that moment to step out of the room. Sister Larissa on the other hand gave the bishop a reproving look, but Destiny noticed the slight tremble of her jaw. “Did Cain not find you?” she asked.

  “Cain is back?”

  “Yes. He’s just arrived. He said he needed to check on Annalise and then would visit with you.”

  The bishop shook his head. “That male is forever causing problems. What’s her story?” he said, waving an impatient hand at Destiny.

  She moved to stand from the bed. “If someone could just point me in the direction of my shoes, I’ll be on my way. Thank you for—”

  “Please sit down, Destiny,” Sister Larissa asked with apparent distress at the idea of making her feel less than welcome. To the man she said in a harsher voice, “Be nice, Bishop.”

  The man’s jaw tightened, and he leaned in close to Sister Larissa and whispered something in her ear. Destiny’s brow lowered. She didn’t know if she should tell the guy to back off or what. There was something so domineering about his body language toward the delicate-looking nun, she wasn’t sure if Sister Larissa was feeling bullied, threatened, or what. But then the nun sighed.

  What the hell? The next thing she knew the bishop’s hands were holding the nun intimately and they were kissing. Destiny’s jaw slackened and, like a good little voyeur, she watched.