by Isis Rushdan
Sweat dripped from his brow and covered his rippling body in a delicious sheen. His masculine scent was deeper, richer and evermore divine. Catching his breath, he put the weapon on a rack amongst others.
She longed to melt the tension between them. “Please tell me a pack of psychotic Paladins aren’t going to hunt us down to kill us,” she said in a pathetic attempt at levity. He looked away as if what she’d said might be plausible. “Are people going to try to hurt us?”
He furrowed his brow. “How do you know about Paladins?”
“Abbadon told me.”
“No matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe.” His dire tone wasn’t reassuring.
“We’re targets because of our birthmark? It’s such a small thing to kill someone over. How can we possibly make a difference?”
He placed her hand on his sweaty chest over their shared birthmark. “In time, you’ll come to see how such a small thing can have great meaning.”
Staring into his deep blue eyes, dark and wondrous, it was easy to squelch the swelling fear in her gut. Being near him, touching him, she was invincible. She couldn’t explain it, but with him at her side, she felt strong enough to face every demon in the pit of hell.
“You need to learn how to use a weapon.” He let her hand fall from his chest as he stepped away. “I could teach you how to use a gun or a more traditional weapon.”
“No guns,” she said, shaking her head, determined not to think of her father.
He led her across the room to a table with weapons laid out. “Tell me which one speaks to you. Don’t think about it. I want you to pick whichever one you feel most drawn to.”
She scrutinized the weapons: a sword, a dagger, what looked like a thick stick, a bow and arrow, a long piece of bamboo, a metal rod about eighteen inches long with a pronged tine and a metal club. Her fingers skimmed the long piece of bamboo. The texture was an odd mix of silky smoothness and deep ridges. She stared at it for a moment, but picked up the arrow.
“You’re an archer? Are you sure? You did stop at a different weapon.”
“I’m sure.”
“Normally, I’d start you out with the bow and arrow to teach you discipline, but we’ll jump straight to the crossbow to save time.”
Learning to use the crossbow was quick and easy. Instead of arrows, there were bolts. She just loaded it, aimed and fired. The crossbow was two and a half feet long, had adjustable sights, a removable scope and smooth trigger mechanism. It weighed less than ten pounds, barely made any noise when she fired and the accuracy of her shots was phenomenal.
Her stomach gurgled. “I can’t believe I’m hungry again, I just ate.”
“Your metabolism is speeding up.” He took the crossbow and put it away. “You’ll eventually adjust to it, but you’re probably drawing off of my hunger. I’m famished.”
Sensing some of his feelings so acutely she misattributed them as her own, while others lurked in their shared stream out of reach mystified her. She wanted free access to all of him, every emotion. This new connection was frightening, but it was also thrilling and strangely addictive.
Cyrus led Serenity out of the gym. With each step toward the house, he restrained the inclination to touch her and calculated his next move. “Are you a semi-vegetarian? I wasn’t sure.”
“I lived with my last foster care family for two years and they were vegetarians. I never missed eating meat and found I actually felt better.”
“What was it like growing up in foster care?”
“It was hard, constantly moving. Most foster parents were great at first, but once I got too close to them things always changed. Some liked to hit, others preferred to inflict injury with words. Making friends was easy, but keeping them was the trick.”
Her fingertips grazed his hand as she interlaced her fingers with his. Evan’s ring was gone. He kissed the back of her hand. A smile brightened her face and her eyes sparkled, lit aflame by joy or passion. Which one he couldn’t tell, but didn’t care. The look on her face, the gleam in her eye meant more to him than anything else in that moment.
She caressed his cheek and the cold band of a ring grazed his skin. She’d moved the engagement ring to her right hand, but had not taken it off. He swallowed the bitter backlash welling in his throat along with the acrid words he longed to speak and slipped his hand free.
“What’s it like to grow up in one of the Houses?” she asked.
“I guess one’s experience would depend on one’s role and which House. For me, it was oppressive. When I was born, I was anointed my grandfather’s successor on the Council.”
“Is a seat on the Council normally passed down like a birthright?”
“No. A Council member nominates someone and another member of the Triumvirate must second the nomination. Then the House approves with a majority vote, at least at Herut. Leta, my mother’s sister, seconded my nomination. No future member has ever been selected at birth like me.”
“Wait, your grandfather and your aunt have two of the three seats on the Council?”
He nodded somberly. Coming from such a powerful family was at times more of a burden than a privilege. “I was raised to believe I’d do something exceptional someday. The demands to be perfect were relentless. Everyone had such high expectations. I was constantly watched and critiqued on everything. So I tried life away from the collective.”
“Is that why you’re in New York? Trying life away from them?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was sent here for another purpose. I tried when I was younger.” His back stiffened at the resurrection of shameful memories long ago buried, ugly memories of a mistake he wanted to forget.
She didn’t follow up with more questions on the subject and he was grateful for it.
“Where are the Houses located?”
“Aten is in a remote area of Iceland. Sekhem is somewhere in the Sahara and my House settled in Asia, in the Himalayas.”
Her small hand clutched his arm, her fingers massaged his biceps. The smooth slip of metal on her finger grated on his nerves with each stroke.
“I need to go back to the condo to get some of my things,” she said.
“Make a list. I’ll send Talus and Cassian to collect whatever you want.”
Her pulse spiked, falling out of beat with his.
She bit her bottom lip. “No need for a list. I’ll go with them.”
Entering the house through the conservatory, they waltzed into the kitchen.
“Too dangerous to let you go back to the condo or your tattoo studio right now.”
Her chest swelled in a huff. “I have a life. I have appointments and sketches to drop off. I can’t stay away from the studio.”
“Cancel your appointments for a couple of weeks. Give me time to sort things out with those mercs and figure out what they want with you.”
Her jaw dropped and her gaze darted about as if she were fishing for a rebuttal.
“In the meantime, Talus and Cassian will drop off any sketches for you. And they can either bring back some of your things from Evan’s condo or all of your things.”
Her mouth snapped close and she plopped onto a stool at the granite island in the middle of the kitchen. A myriad of emotions skyrocketed and collided in their energy stream. The mishmash of feelings caused his head to ache.
He picked a meal prepared by Mrs. Carter from the fridge, put it in the microwave, grabbed a bottle of water and glasses, and sat beside her. “It’s a simple matter really.”
“Simple? Really, you think it’s simple?”
He poured two glasses of water. “Either you plan to continue living a farce with the human or you wish to remain here as mistress of this house. It seems quite simple.”
Water splashed as she raised the shaking glass to her lips. “Everything is moving so fast. One day I’m human, the next I’m not. I’ve got to dismantle one life in order to have another. And it doesn’t seem simple to me at all. I can’t let him come back from London to a h
alf empty apartment with all of my stuff gone. And I can’t move in with you. I just met you.”
He drew in a breath, quelling his anger. He needed to use logic, not to get sidetracked with a muddle of feelings. “Are you going to marry Evan?”
She lowered her eyelids and shook her head.
“Then it’d be easier on him if you dissolved your relationship as soon as he returns. Shock on his part is inevitable, but to end things only to make him suffer through watching you move out afterwards seems unnecessarily cruel.”
She rubbed her forehead. He pulled the elastic band from her hair and combed out her tresses with his fingers.
She smacked his hand away. “Stop taking such liberties, like I’m yours. I’m not.”
“I’ll find out when Evan plans to fly back so you can meet him at the airport. Talus and Cassian will collect all of your things tomorrow.” He rubbed the back of her neck, concentrating on the area covered by the birthmark. “You may have only met me a few days ago in this lifetime, but deep down you know me.” He took a sip of water. “It’s settled then?”
After a long moment of silence, she nodded.
He smiled. She might not realize it yet, but she was, without a doubt, most certainly his.
As his kabashem, he had a divine claim to her, and she to him. And no one, especially some human, would stand in the way.
Chapter Thirteen
Serenity sat beside Cyrus in the kitchen, lost in her thoughts, watching him eat.
Her life was spinning out of control, more like beyond her control and in a direction she wasn’t entirely sure about. “From the way you order everyone around, I take it you’re treated like some kind of prince at House Herut. Is it because you’re Blessed or for some other reason?”
He got up, put the dishes in the sink, and returned to her with a smile. Pulling her stool out, he guided her to her feet without laying a finger on her.
“Partly because I’m Blessed,” he said as they left the kitchen and drifted upstairs, “but mostly because I’ve been chosen to govern House Herut as a Council member. One day I’ll have to give up my sword to become a glorified politician,” he said with disdain.
“So you’re treated like a prince.”
“I’d rather be treated like a pauper.”
She chuckled, not believing him.
He stopped in front of her room. “I need to shower and I imagine you have some work to do to stay on track with things at your studio.”
She considered vocalizing her desire to scrub his back, but dismissed it. She had no idea how such a forward notion had crawled into her head. “I do have more sketches to knock out.”
“I know this is still new and confusing for you. If you have more questions or want to talk, you know where to find me.” Then he disappeared in his room, leaving the door open.
Staring at the diamond ring on her right hand, she wandered into her room. All these years she was afraid her discontentment would turn her into her father, a suicidal manic depressive. She never would’ve guessed she’d turn into her mother, a deserter. Evan floated to the surface of her mind, dredging up guilt.
She went to her drawing table, ripped a sheet from her sketchpad and scribbled a note for her business partner:
Dougie,
Here are the sketches due. Something has come up and I need time to sort through things. Cancel my appointments for the next two weeks. Don’t worry, I’ll explain when I can.
Serenity
Dougie had the rest of the business well in hand and didn’t need her for daily operations. She put the sketches and the note in a portfolio case on the table in front of the wall of windows.
The night sky twinkled, lit by a cascade of stars.
Her energy stream stirred—hungry to reconnect to Cyrus’s. His sudden shift in behavior unsettled her. He went from showering her with possessive affection that threatened to burn right through her, incinerating what control she had, to nothing. Dialing it down a few notches would’ve been a relief, but depriving her of his touch left her empty and aching.
Picking up the portfolio case, she went to his room. He should be done with his shower by now. She knocked on the open door and waltzed in. Their energy streams pooled together as she caught sight of him. He stood behind his desk, bare chest on display, wearing a pair of jeans.
“Do you think Cassian would mind dropping these off for me at the studio since they’re going into the city tomorrow?” she asked.
He held out his hand to take it, not looking surprised to see her. She slipped behind his desk and pressed the case against the solid plane of his muscled chest. As he took it and set it on the desk, she sat in the leather chair. He turned to face her, resting his butt on the edge of the desk, spreading his legs wide. She rolled the chair forward, stopping short of sitting between his thighs.
Droplets of water sprinkled her face as he tousled his wet hair. Raw lust snaked through her, fierce and urgent. The demanding need to touch him was turning into a compulsion. Even if she could only go so far.
He folded his arms, curiosity twinkling in his eyes.
“How long have Cassian and Talus been with you?”
“Since they were eleven and thirteen, respectively.”
“Jeez, twenty-five years. At the same time I lost my family, you gained a new one. Was it hard to learn how to be a father?”
“When Talus and Cassian came, I had no idea what to do with them. They were obedient and quiet. They took to training quite well.” He spoke about them in an awkward way, like they had been puppies.
“Was that your first time taking care of children?”
“It took a while for me to bond with them. We were in the city one day and they spotted a massive toy store that was four or five stories. I found out Cassian loved cars and Talus liked anything military related,” he said in a soft tone, his body and features relaxing.
“Cassian spoke to every child he came in contact with.” He laughed. The sound was deep and lush, tickling her ears. “By the time we left the store, he begged nonstop for a television so he could watch cartoons, and the entire way home he rambled about movies. A couple of hours exposed to human children had a profound effect. I took them to the cinema the next day to see their first movie, The Karate Kid. At the end, he said even a runt with the right training could be a champion. It broke my heart in a way I can’t explain. I had the home theater built shortly thereafter and he’s been hooked ever since.”
“You must look at me as a child, like Talus or Cassian. I can’t imagine all the things you must have seen and done in two hundred years. My life must seem so small to you.”
Cyrus lifted her chin. “I definitely don’t see you as a child.” His fingers caressed her bare arms and his face warmed. Then just as quickly his hands retreated, gripping the desk. “Your skin is like satin ribbons of caramel,” he said, with a sharp edge of longing.
She cupped his knees and squeezed. It was so easy to let go with him, so natural. The bulge in his jeans stirred as she ran her palms up his legs. No harm pushing a little, testing the waters.
“You’re so beautiful.” His gaze caressed her face.
Her fingers wandered from his knees, up the inside of his thighs, bypassing his crotch. She had to wait to go all the way, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to explore his body.
As she slid her hands up his hard stomach, he trembled. She dragged her fingers down using more pressure, allowing her nails to graze his skin. Her hands reached the bulge in his pants and she massaged him over his clothing. Sucking in a sharp breath, he clenched his eyes shut. His hips moved and his member pushed against the denim.
A slow burn built between her thighs, snaking up her belly.
The wood of the desk crunched in his hands and his eyes flew open. “There’s a threshold, love,” he said in a cold voice, sharp as a blade. “Once you cross it, I will not stop. You need to be certain. If you changed your mind, I’d hate to force myself on you.”
The diamond
on the engagement ring sparkled in the soft lighting of the room. She tensed at the glaring reminder of her weakness in more ways than one. The more time she spent with Cyrus the more her shaky self-control crumbled. She was grateful he didn’t take advantage.
Cyrus caressed her face and stroked the ringlets of her hair until the flush of shame stopped burning her cheeks. When she met his gaze again, he rested his hands on his legs. She ran a finger over his chunky signet ring.
Etched in the middle of a green seal was an eye. A long line ran across the top of it like a brow and a curved line below it.
“That’s the eye of Heru.”
She pulled her hands into her lap. “It must be nice to belong to something, to be a part of a House and have a connection with roots.”
“Roots stabilize, providing strength. They also bind. The love of my House has been as much a comfort to me as it has been a burden.”
“Most of my life I’ve searched for meaning, not knowing where I come from.” She grazed the back of her neck. “My father made me feel like my birthmark was the most beautiful thing in the world, made me special somehow. After he killed himself, the world was a different place and nothing looked the same.”
Her childhood wasn’t clear. So much had been lost in the natural haze of getting older, but the image of her father falling, a puddle of scarlet seeping into the carpet, was as vivid as the day she’d witnessed it. It never faded. The horror never weakened. The grief always remained.
“Most people get a tattoo because they want something that represents who they are or aspire to be,” she said. “When I discovered I could make people feel as special as he made me feel, it brought joy back into my heart, gave my life meaning.”
Cyrus rubbed her shoulders. A cool sensation blossomed in her chest and spread. A weight inside of her lifted and the hooks of woe embedded in her heart eased.