Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  “What is this stuff?” Killian asks. The cuts on his skin weave back together. Broken bones mend. Swelling fades.

  “I refer to it as manna, though I suppose bread of life would be more appropriate, since it grows on the Tree of Life.”

  “It helps Troikans and Myriadians alike?”

  “It does. Maybe because there are no Troikans or Myriadians here, all bonds severed upon arrival.”

  “Thank you for the food, and the explanation.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Now we need a game plan.”

  “Yeah, but we also need a breather. We’ve been on the go for months. No rest. No respite. It’s time to recharge.” Time to bask in our love, and the joy of being together, until we are an unbeatable unit, no matter what happens. I wiggle my brows at him. “Maybe do a little more of that kissing.”

  “Well. You did strengthen when I kissed you. What kind of man would I be if I left you in this weakened condition?” There’s a husky, teasing note in his voice, that sends shivers cascading down my spine.

  “True. Kissing and touching me is practically your duty. And we don’t want you remiss in your duties, now, do we?”

  “I’m willin’ tae work myself tae the bone.”

  I nearly choke on a laugh. “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” Up ahead, water flows from a branch, creating the perfect shower. I cast him a wanton grin and strip down to my underwear, his hot gaze cataloging my every move. “Catch me if you can,” I say, and race forward.

  He gives chase. And he does catch me. We fall into the water with his arms wrapped around me. Little moans of delight leave me as we surge above the surface.

  Lightning fast, he strips and tosses his clothes onto a rock.

  “This is our second shower together,” I say. “Only this time you’re not plotting my downfall.”

  He sucks in a breath as if punched.

  “What?” I blink innocently, not letting my smile break free. “Too soon to joke about?”

  “Forever will be too soon.” He nips my lower lip with his teeth, then takes his time cleaning the muck from my skin.

  I love having his hands on me.

  When he finishes, I return the favor, lingering on his pecs and maybe kinda sorta the bulge between his legs. Not my fault. It’s a big bulge. Like, really big. What, am I just supposed to ignore it? Impossible.

  “Okay, playtime is over.” He takes the leaves from my grip and pulls me under the flow of water. His chest presses against my back as he wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder.

  The horse brand on his forearm is now as faded as mine. At least they haven’t vanished. We are still in this battle.

  “I’m sorry, lass.”

  I reach overhead to comb my fingers through his soaked hair. “You’ve got to stop apologizing…love.” I try out the endearment, and breath hitches in his throat. Bingo. Found his new nickname. “Myriad taught you to rely on your feelings for every thought, action and situation, but they taught you wrong. You feel guilty, so you apologize, even though you’ve been forgiven. And even though your apologies are nice, they are basically a slap in my face, as if you don’t believe I’m telling the truth about forgiving you.”

  “I’m—” He goes quiet, and I chuckle. His clasp on me tightens. “How can you forgive me? I hurt you worse than I’ve ever hurt another, and yet everyone else still harbors a grudge. And rightfully so.”

  “I just… I refuse to be an emotional bookkeeper, keeping a detailed account of the wrongs done to me. I choose forgiveness, even when and if I don’t actually feel forgiving. Because it’s not about what I feel. Like everything else, it’s about what I choose. Do my emotions control me, or do I control my emotions? I decide. And really, like you, like everyone else, I’ve made mistakes. I like to think I’ve been forgiven, so, what I want for myself, I offer freely to others. Besides, love isn’t about getting everything right. It’s about being there for each other when everything goes wrong.”

  A moment passes in thoughtful silence, the stiffness leaving him. Then he kisses my ear, my jaw and the pulse hammering at the base of my neck.

  He cups my breasts, then slides his hands lower…delving under my panties. “I’d say you are too good tae be true, but I’d rather spend my time enjoyin’ you.”

  I mewl and purr as I writhe into his touch.

  When my head begins to spin from the pleasure, I turn in his arms, facing him. My gaze snags on his plethora of tattoos. “I love these.”

  “Together they create a map of Myriad, as you once guessed, but they also mark where I hid my greatest treasures.”

  I already knew that, but his admission is like honey to my soul.

  “Most of the items were stolen from me,” he grumbles, “but I realized they weren’t really treasures, after all. They never really mattered. I have you, and you are what matters most.”

  Melting…

  He nuzzles my cheek. “Maybe I need to have an X inked over my heart. X marks the spot, and X stands for the numeral ten.”

  I laugh, delighted by him. “I never pegged you for a romantic. But I like it.”

  He lifts his head to gift me with a brilliant smile. “Seems I’ve been buryin’ my treasure in the wrong places. But that’s about to change, yeah?”

  A blush heats my cheeks. “You did not just say that.”

  “Oh, aye, I did.” Grinning, he rubs against me.

  I gasp with pleasure, and sink my hands into his hair. “We aren’t always promised a tomorrow. The only guarantee we have is right now, and I’m not wasting another second. I want you, Killian.” I want to show my husband the depths of my love for him, not just tell him.

  I trust him with my future, so, I’m going to trust him with my body.

  He cups my jaw, traces his thumbs over my cheeks. His pupils are blown, and his body is trembling as forcefully as mine. “Are you sure, lass?”

  Very. “Kiss me.” I lift to my tiptoes.

  He meets me halfway, his lips pressing into mine. At first the kiss is as sweet as the air around us, gentle and wet, so wet, as the water continues to rain. An exploratory indulgence as we relearn and savor each other…but it isn’t long before sweet isn’t enough. Our bodies are burning so hot the water droplets are steaming off our skin.

  He is my first and last love, and he will be my first time. What could be more perfect?

  His hands wander over different parts of me, driving my need higher. Until I’m aching, overcome—desperate.

  Between panting breaths, I ask, “Can a spirit who has experienced Second-death impregnate another spirit who has experienced Second-death?”

  As a human, I didn’t have to worry. Not because I wasn’t having sex, but because birth control is given to all menstruating females in the name of population control. To have a child, a couple must petition for the right.

  “I highly doubt conception is possible here,” he says, and I agree. “But if it does matter, we’re good. I receive yearly shots in Myriad to stop my little swimmers. I’ve got three months tae go.” He rubs the tip of his nose against mine. “Shall we continue?”

  I nod. “Please d—”

  He dives down, claiming my mouth before I can finish my command, sweeping me up in a brutal storm of unquenchable desire. Will I ever get enough of him?

  He devours my mouth, giving and taking, giving and taking, sweeping me up in a riotous storm. Right now, we are the only two people in existence. Time ceases to matter. There is only here and now.

  Blood rushes through my veins, a newly awakened river without a dam in sight. My heart races, and my limbs tremble with passion rather than weakness. I tingle and ache and burn and tingle and ache and burn and oh, I can’t get enough of this boy.

  We’re dead—again—but I’ve never felt more alive.

  He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and gentl
y places me on a dry rock. He removes my bra and panties before settling on top of me. Skin to heated skin. Hardness against softness. Consuming need to consuming need.

  The kiss deepens as his hands travel over me, kneading me, caressing me, driving me utterly insane. My tremors return and intensify. My blood turns to fuel, stoking my need higher. And higher. New mewls leave me, followed by moans, groans and pleas.

  And he’s just getting started.

  Anywhere his hands travel, his mouth soon follows. He touches and tastes every inch of me, this husband of mine, and I’m lost, so lost, set adrift, and I have no desire to be found. He is my treasure, and in his arms, I have everything I’ve ever needed. Love, joy, peace and hope. The foundation I will forever stand upon. The things for which I fight the good fight.

  “I want this tae be good for you, lass, okay? All right? So you must tell me if ever you want me tae stop. I will stop, no matter how far gone we are. No questions asked. There’ll be no pushing you for more, okay?”

  I nod, because I’m past the point of speech. But that’s okay, too, because he lifts his head to peer at me with radiant adoration, and I’m certain every bit of it is reflected back to him through my eyes.

  In that moment, I’m so glad I waited, so glad he is my first, but had there been a thousand before him, the memory of them would have been burned away in the fire of our love.

  When he claims me as his own, there is pain, but it’s slight, and soon fades. I cling to him, my nails in his back, and lift my hips to encourage him. As he moves within me, kissing me, loving me, still giving and taking, I’m overwhelmed by the knowledge that we are one.

  One heart. One mind. One body.

  * * *

  Afterward, as I cuddle against him, my cheek resting against his racing heartbeat, I can’t help but look ahead to our future. After we save the spirits here, we can work with Eron to save the people of Myriad from Ambrosine. If Archer and the others haven’t already done so, that is. We can live in Troika, as planned, without Killian having to go to court in order to defect, or even travel between both realms. But…

  After his treatment in Troika, that may not be something he’s willing to do. I’ll understand. I won’t like it, but I’ll understand.

  “You stiffened,” he says. “Tell me why.”

  “Just thinking about what will happen after we rescue the damned. You know…where we’ll live.”

  “We’ll live in Troika, and visit Myriad if we so desire—and if the realm still exists, of course.”

  “Really? You’d be willing to pack up and move to Troika, even though you were treated so horribly?”

  “You were treated horribly in Myriad, lass. The difference is, my people tortured you, and planned tae do worse. Yer people only locked me away.”

  This is true. “To be fair, my people might have tortured you if we hadn’t been bonded.”

  “Doona care. I’m choosing Light. I’m pulling a Tenley Lockwood and forgiving those who have wronged me.”

  How much do I love this boy. “Thank you.”

  “Even before my memory returned, I’d begun tae like the Light.”

  I kiss his collarbone. “I’m sure the Light liked you, too. How could it not?”

  He snorts. “The last time I had tae choose a realm, I picked based on hatred. Hatred for Archer, and his rejection of me. Hatred for the people of Myriad, determined tae prove tae everyone I deserved a family. This time, I pick for love—for you.”

  As I luxuriate in the beauty of his words, a new bond clicks into place. A stronger bond. I can feeeeel his love for me, more luminous than ever before, every shadow gone.

  “The Grid,” I say, and gasp. “It’s so much brighter now.”

  “For me, too.”

  Love has won.

  No matter what else happens, love has won!

  “Killian,” I say, grinning ear to ear.

  He leans toward me, as if drawn to me, only to go still. We both go still.

  He frowns. “Did you hear that?” he whispers.

  In the distance, a twig snaps. For the second time.

  I scramble for my clothes—zero! We left every garment on the other side of the waterfall.

  Another twig snaps. The murmur of voices arises.

  Incoming!

  But will we find friend—or foe?

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: M_V_3/54.5.8

  To: L_R_3/51.3.15, J_A_3/19.37.30, S_C_3/50.4.13, C_M_3/5.20.1, T_B_3/19.30.2, B_S_3/51.3.13, A_S_3/42.6.31, J_B_3/19.23.4, S_J_3/62.5.5, M_P_3/45.10.9

  Subject: RIP Tenley Lockwood

  I just received word. Tenley Lockwood has been slain inside Myriad, and she has not entered into the Rest. Because of her connection to Killian Flynn, she entered Many Ends.

  Before his disappearance, Alejandro posed the question: What if she’s right, and we’re wrong?

  I believe he was on the correct track. The girl needs our help. Let’s offer our help.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Mykhail Vasiliev

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: S_C_3/50.4.13

  To: M_V_3/54.5.8

  Subject: Worse is on the way

  Forget Miss Lockwood. Penumbra is still spreading in the Land of the Harvest and Troika. Abrogates are loose. There’s no way we can cleanse them all, even with our ever-increasing number of Conduits.

  Also, Miss Lockwood’s guardian hunted me down. After biting me for “daring to hurt the best human born in, like, ever,” he demanded an audience with you, Mykhail. Well, an audience with whoever thinks Miss Lockwood is “right about everything, always.”

  I suggest you take the meeting. He claims we’re all going to die if we fail to do everything he says.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Shamus Campbell

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: M_V_3/54.5.8

  To: S_C_3/50.4.13

  Subject: Stay the course

  I have a feeling the Abrogates are a distraction meant to divide our forces. You say forget Miss Lockwood; I say forget the Abrogates. More of our people are dead. Conduits we desperately needed. They are not in the Rest, but Many Ends.

  The source of the shadows must be negated. And from whom do Abrogates receive their power? Their king. Remove the king, and victory will follow.

  So, our first order of business is as simple as it is complex. Find a way to fill our trapped Conduits with Light. We can’t take down a king of darkness without Light. They are Light. And before you argue, know that this instruction comes directly from Eron.

  So how can we get our Light into Many Ends?

  As for the dog, send him my way.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Mykhail Vasiliev

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  * * *

  “In the end, you will have what you say.”

  —Troika

  Killian

  As quietly as possible, I crawl to the other rock to retrieve our clothing. I toss Ten her garments and dress in my own as quietly as possible. She does the same.

  I will protect this girl with my life.

  Of course, I should have known my Ten would climb from the rock, determined to protect my life. She’s as fierce as she is beautiful, her loved ones always her top concern. And I am one of those loved ones. Me. Killian Flynn. She loves me with all her heart, soul and body. I’m still amazed, will probably be amazed for the rest of eternity. I’m not sure how it happened, only that it has; Ten told me so, and she never lies.

  For the second time in my life, I understand the importance of hearing the truth and telling the truth. Had Ten lied to me even once—about something, anything, large or small—I might doubt her word now. But she never has, never will. Despite the consequences, she alwa
ys tells me straight. Her word is as good as gold, no, better than, and from this moment onward, mine will be better than gold, too. I want her to experience the same trust in me that I have in her.

  In trust, there’s absolute peace and utter joy.

  Ten moves to my side, and together we inch forward. I kinda sorta want to murder our intruders in cold blood. Interrupt my time with Ten and suffer. But I’ll resist the urge. Barely.

  I’ve never stuck around after sex, but this time I wanted to stick around more than I wanted to take my next breath. I wanted to hold my wife, enjoy her, bask in the pleasure we just shared. Pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  Watching her come alive under my touch proved to be the great accomplishment of my life. So what that I wasn’t wanted as a child. I’m wanted as a man—Ten’s man. She is the soothing balm to every hurt I suffered in my past.

  Muttering voices reach my ears, and I ball my fist, preparing to launch a sneak attack. Then the intruders come into view at last.

  Ten gasps and rushes forward. “No, no, no. What happened? Why—how—are you here?”

  Archer, Dior, Raanan and Reed swing around to face her. They are cut and bruised, their dirt-stained clothing torn. But Dior no longer appears sickly. I caught a glimpse of her as we fought our way to the Kennels, and shadows had filled her eyes and run through her veins.

  Seeing Ten, Archer sprints to meet her halfway. The two embrace, and shockingly enough, I experience no hint of jealousy. Or maybe it’s not so shocking. Ten is mine. Willingly, happily. Always and forever.

  Archer looks up, and our gazes snag. We share a moment of silent communication: I’m still not sure I like you, but I’m glad you’re here.

  “How are you here?” she asks him again.

  “After you died,” Archer says, “our Grids got nailed by a total blackout. We were severely weakened, which allowed the Myriadians to slay us quickly.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she presses a hand over her mouth. “My fault. I’m so sorry.”