His hard, steady strokes took on urgency. Chloe met him with equal abandon. Her hands grabbed onto his shoulders. Her legs tightened around his waist. “Oh God, Lucan. I’m going to—”
Her words strangled on a sharp cry as her body spasmed beneath him. He was there with her, need breaking to the surface and ecstasy ripping through his veins. His cock swelled and pulsed. Satisfaction poured through him, and along with it something deeper. Something richer.
Something akin to love.
Dropping his head to her shoulder, he sank into her, marking her with the spilling of his seed. Gradually, their bodies slowed. Their breathing stabilized. Lucan lifted on shaking arms to gaze into her amber eyes. Wonder lay in her wide-eyed stare. Tears crept down her cheeks.
And in that moment, Lucan realized ’twas not akin to love, but love itself. Though it seemed implausible, unbelievable in so many ways, he had lost his heart to Chloe. Something he had given no other woman in over nine hundred years of life.
Taking a deep steadying breath, he kissed the dampness from her face and wrapped her in his embrace. “Shall we move to the bed?” he asked in a near whisper.
She let out an airy laugh. “I’m not sure I can move.”
He could not stop a grin from spreading across his face. “You best be able to. I am not finished with you yet, Chloe Broussard.”
Like a cat, she curled into his arms. Her nails scraped across the small of his back. “Mm. That sounds delightful.”
Though he wanted naught more than to stay in the warm recesses of her tight sheath, he forced himself to leave the enticing heat and eased out of her body. As he rose to his feet, he brought her with him, then swung her into his arms. Three long strides took him to the bed, where he laid her down in the pillows and stretched out alongside her body. Pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat, he tasted the salt of her perspiration. “Come with me again, my sweet. I fear this hunger for you is yet unsatisfied.”
“Let me help you with that.” Smiling, Chloe turned into his embrace. She slipped her hand between them to rest over his cock. He swelled against the firm grip of her fingers, the equally firm slide of her palm.
God’s blood, her touch gave him a sweeter glimpse of heaven than all the archangels combined. When morning came, ’twould be too soon.
* * *
Tane squared off with Merrick in the gray light of imminent dawn. Swords at the ready, he faced his commander, his body attuned to the fight. “One more time, aye?”
Merrick gave a sharp nod, his onyx eyes never leaving Tane’s poised blade. “Aye. Then I must attend to Anne.”
Slowly they circled one another. Mistrust flowed from Merrick into Tane. Four months, and though Merrick had agreed to allow Tane to return at his leisure, Merrick had not yet forgiven. Tane could not blame him for that. And so he challenged his commander to a round of practice, determined to prove himself in blades, if not in deed.
His fate hung in the outcome of the spar. If he lost, Merrick would deem him unworthy to accompany Caradoc to Sicily. If he won, he earned more than the assignment. He earned the chance to reclaim his honor.
Honor he was not so certain he deserved, and yet he craved all the same. He had wronged them all greatly by kidnapping Anne. Destroyed bonds of brotherhood that had withstood centuries of loss.
Merrick took a quick jab at Tane’s left thigh. He drew his broadsword down sharp, blocking the crippling blow with a bone-jarring clang. The sound echoed through the indoor training yard as if they sparred in the long-ago tunnels beneath the Temple Mount that brought them to this immortal fate.
Bringing his arm up hard and fast, he thrust Merrick’s blade aside. But the light of angels, the light Anne gave to her mate, made Merrick faster. He spun on his inside leg, arced his sword around his body, and slammed the flat side of it into Tane’s shoulder. Had it been the sharp edge, as ’twould have been in battle, the forceful slice would have ripped through links of chain. As it was, the impact unbalanced Tane. He stumbled forward. Dropped to his knees.
Disgusted, he tossed his sword on the ground in front of him. “’Tis an unfair advantage you possess, Merrick. That makes three of three.”
A grin pulled at the corners of Merrick’s mouth, but he did not set it free. Four months ago, he would have. Nay, ’twould take far longer to bring Merrick back to the state of laughter and companionship they had once known.
He did, however, offer Tane a respectful bow. “Aye, ’tis true. But ’tis why we are given the seraphs. I must take my leave. Your arm is sturdy, Tane. Do not be disheartened.” Always the commander at heart, even the betrayal that lay between them would not deter Merrick from commending his men.
Tane did not believe the words. Yet again, he had failed. He watched Merrick leave, disgusted by his inability to stand toe-to-toe with one he had once matched. Sheathing his sword, he cursed the darkness in his soul. Had he not been plagued with such vile jealousy, mayhap the archangels would have seen fit to bless him with a seraph by now, and he too could experience the healing strength of their angelic light.
For now, he must content himself with once again being allowed to roam the Temple halls at will. And he must abide by the looks of reproach his brethren cast his way. Such was his punishment. Though ’twould have been a kinder fate had Mikhail seen fit to expel him from this earth.
He stormed to the door, only to have them open inward as he reached for the handle. Merrick ducked his head inside. “You will arrive in Sicily, two days hence. I shall inform Caradoc to meet you at the airport.”
Tane blinked. He had failed the challenge. Why send him? He had not earned the reward.
As the door settled into its frame, he could not cease the quickening of his pulse. Though the reasoning eluded his grasp, he understood he had been offered the opportunity he requested on returning to the Temple at the beginning of the month. He would be allowed a greater duty. Although Caradoc would be present to oversee him, Merrick had extended a boon.
Tane ground his teeth together in determination. He would not fail. Despite the last words of a fallen brother that marked him as a betrayer, he would not bring the Templar to their knees. And in the assignment, he would, somehow, regain his brethren’s respect.
Spirits lighter, he fled the training yard in time to catch a shadow slipping down the hall. He cocked his head at the fleeting glimpse of reddish hair. Squinted at the heavy Scottish accent that met his ears as the man spoke into his phone.
Declan.
Too long the Scot had lurked in shadows and distanced himself from those he was once closest to. All wondered what business he conducted in private, but none had the fortune to encounter him, he came and went so secretly.
Tane fell into step behind him, descending the stairs into the Temple’s barracks. Declan did not look over his shoulder, though he would have to be deaf to not hear Tane’s steady footfalls. He hurried onward, absorbed by the conversation he conducted. Words Tane could not make out through the distance that spanned between them.
He rounded the corner that led to the inner sanctum stairwell and stopped short. The hall stood empty. No sound drifted up from the cavernous stairwell. He squinted into the darkened recess. ’Twas only one way Declan could go—down.
Careful to keep his footsteps light, Tane descended the stairs, listening for the telltale brogue that would guide him to the man he sought. But at the foot of the long stairs, the sacred ceremonial chamber stood empty. One man knelt in prayer at the far side of the room, his cropped dark hair a contrast to Declan’s shaggy red.
Damnation! Where had the man gone? He had not been so far behind him, he should have caught up to his wayward brother. And yet no sign gave any hint Declan had set foot in the heart of the temple.
Scowling, Tane leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. He would wait. Declan could only pass through to the upper levels via these stairs. When he did, Tane would corner him and discover once and for all why their brother had chosen to skulk about i
n shadows. If Tane could succeed in this, he would once again know the full trust and support of not only Merrick, but Mikhail as well.
* * *
When the sound of footsteps descended beyond the hidden door, Declan slowly eased the lock into place, careful to keep it from clicking too loudly. He breathed easier and folded shut his phone. Too close. Tane had ventured too close.
He had not expected to stumble onto the betrayer. This close to dawn, the majority of the temple slept, the men’s nocturnal schedules having exhausted them. But nay, Tane did not venture to the gates with the others. Instead, he sheltered himself inside the temple and trained in the yard under the guise of maintaining his skill. He avoided their calling. Which marked him as a weak link. One Declan must rightfully inform Leofric of.
He turned away from the door, conflicted. Revealing the failings of most of his brothers did not pose difficulty. But when it came to the five he had once fought side by side with, he could not bring himself to subject them to Leofric’s punishment. Impeding their pursuits and placing roadblocks in their paths took courage enough. Yet he found ’twas easier on his conscience to attempt to thwart the failings of those he was closest to, than to callously report their misdeeds.
He had not disclosed even the recent trouble Lucan presented. He would rather confront Lucan directly, particularly in light of the fact the man assigned to the task—this Julian Broussard—could not succeed in his assignment. Stop Lucan from engaging in sin before the oaths were taken. A simple enough task. ’Twould only require distracting Lucan. But nay, Julian could not keep his eyes on Lucan long enough, it seemed. No doubt, Lucan had already stumbled.
If Declan could convince Leofric to allow him to journey to Europe, he could handle the matter himself.
He grumbled beneath his breath and struck off down the secret corridor that led to the meeting room where the Kerzu shared their plans and information. Inside, he found Leofric and Godric gathered around a small table. As he approached, Leofric shuffled a rolled scroll inside the gaping arm of his robe. “Declan. What brings you here at this hour?”
“I wish to inquire about the state of Eadgar’s assignment in Ornes. How does he fare?”
Leofric reclined in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “He has seen little progress. Though we suspect this Chloe may be a seraph. Eadgar awaits confirmation before he will act further.”
“And if she isna? What will happen then?”
The leader of the Kerzu’s mouth tightened into harsh, cruel lines. “’Tis not your place to question, Declan. Your assignment is to guide Julian through the acquisition of the relic. Once it has been restored where it belongs, you are finished with this duty.”
Annoyance slid through Declan’s veins. He had not given his oath to this cause of purifying the Templar to be treated as an insignificant servant. For too many years he had led men to meekly assume such a subservient position. Squinting at his commander, he challenged, “Send me. I ken I will succeed where Eadgar hasna.”
“Nay. You are not ready.”
“I am!”
“You will not go. Do not plague me further with these insignificant requests. When the time has come for you to leave the temple, you shall be notified.”
Four months of working beneath Leofric’s guidance warned Declan that further protest would fall on deaf ears. He held in a string of curses and checked the sudden urge to resign this post. Were it not for the knowledge that the work they conducted in secret would restore the Order to its true purpose once more, he would have. But the need to achieve one greatness before the darkness claimed him eternally forced Declan into silence. He turned away from Leofric, his fury in check, his emotions once more under control.
Opportunity would come soon enough, of this he was certain. A few more menial tasks, like this coaching of the ignorant Julian, and he would earn his place along with the right to do something truly admirable.
CHAPTER 32
Chloe awakened to the gray light of dawn, feeling strangely alive and energetic. She ached in places she didn’t know existed, and as she took stock of her well-used body, a smile crept across her face. Lucan. The memories of what he had done to her, the thorough way he’d made love to her through the night blossomed in her mind. Not once, not twice, but three times he had roused her to the heights of passion, then carried her over the edge, tumbling right along with her into the deep abyss that was sheer feeling. On her back. Sitting astride him. Stretched out side by side, her leg lifted over his hip … He knew his way around women, and now he knew his way around her. Inside and out.
The weighty feel of his arm at her hip and the warm press of his chest against her back stirred all that frenetic energy once more. She should have had her fill of him. Should be too exhausted to consider another robust round of mind-boggling sex. But with that physical joining, something deeper found satisfaction. The gaping empty hole inside her that had too long cried out for fulfillment closed tight. And God, how it felt good to let a man inside, not only physically, but emotionally. He had wrung from her all she had to give, and give it she’d done freely.
Now, as the day loomed before her and the explanations she’d have to give her brother, she ached for that contentment once more. She needed to find strength in Lucan. Courage to look her overprotective brother in the eye and fight off his suspicions.
The light brush of Lucan’s fingertips against her bare belly suggested he was awake. The half-mast erection that nudged against her buttocks turned suggestion into fact. She wriggled her bottom closer, taking him between her thighs.
His mouth fastened onto the back of her neck.
“Mm. Good morning,” she murmured, sliding her hand down to twine with his.
“Good morn.”
His sleep-hoarsened whisper scraped over her shoulder seconds before his lips followed. She shivered at the warm caress and dragged his arm tighter about her waist, burrowing into the protective wall of his powerful chest. In no mood for conversation, and wanting nothing but the steady reminder that the man at her back was real, she brought their joined hands to her breast where she let go, and pressed his palm over the soft flesh there.
He gave her a gentle squeeze. Between her thighs, she felt him grow harder. The tip of his erection touched the very base of her opening, and she shifted her leg, pressed her body backward, taking him ever so slightly inside. Lying still, she allowed sexual awareness to engulf her. The heat in his body, in his swollen cock, spread slowly through her veins. Her pulse kicked up a beat. Moisture gathered between her legs.
“You are not sore?” The wash of his breath lifted the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Her skin pricked with goose bumps. Beneath his tender fingertips, her nipples pebbled into tight, hard buds.
“Not enough to care.” She angled her hips closer, drawing him farther inside her slickened sex.
Lucan’s hand left her breast and glided down her body to slip between her legs. He toyed with the sensitive nub there. Pressed his thumb against it. Squeezed. She sucked in a sharp breath, let it out on a purr, and pushed backward into his body. He eased forward, slowly sliding into her swollen depths.
“You feel so good, Chloe. Do you feel me, as I feel you?”
Oh God, did she ever. Each hot, hard inch of him pressed into her innermost walls, all the way to the tip of her womb. Her muscles clamped around him. She clawed at the pillow beneath her cheek and managed a breathless, “Yes.”
He stroked her clit as he eased away then thrust in inch by heavenly inch, his pace unhurried. Deliberate. His lips grazed over her shoulder. “When you come,” he murmured, “’tis as if naught else exists. I am part of you. I lose myself in you.”
Devotion radiated off him like sunshine on a summer’s day. She basked in it, warmed beneath the honesty in his heartfelt words. And those murmured confessions loosened the strings around her heart. It bloomed behind her ribs, swelling so fiercely she thought for a moment it might stop completely.
It kick-starte
d with his next lazy thrust that brought her so tight against his body she began to understand what he meant. Part of her. Part of him. Like this, nothing stood between them. They moved as one. Felt as one. Shared the same needs and the same vulnerabilities. His heart thudded against her shoulder blades. His breath matched hers, hard and short. The tightness in his body spoke of the same restraint she exercised, both wanting to bring the other to equal passion and succumb to the same shattering end.
It wasn’t a game of domination and conquest. No power struggle to see who could make the other crumble first. No, this was loving. Mutual consideration and the complete abandonment of personal gain. She’d told him she would fall in love with him. Damn it if she hadn’t already.
“Yes,” she murmured, agreeing in the only way she knew how. Though she wouldn’t dare admit what she really answered—the inner acceptance that she had given all she possessed to this incredible man. She’d yielded her heart. Telling him, however, made the playing field uneven. In doing so, she threw power straight into his hands and gave him the ability to break her. In that one way, she would withhold. She’d say nothing of the emotion he provoked until he surrendered first. Nothing else offered protection.
She twisted her hips, the need for harder, faster, fevering her body. “Lucan. Please.”
* * *
Lucan set his jaw against Chloe’s plaintive plea. He would like naught else than to slam into her and drive her to the point of no return. ’Twas what she wanted. The utter eradication of soul-deep feeling, replaced by the carnal gratification of desire. He could not deny ’twas tempting.
Through the night, he had taken her relentlessly. Each time his body stirred, she was there to meet him, to welcome him. But each time he sought to draw their joining out, each time he strove to attune them body and mind, she pulled back and urged him into the place where need overruled all else.
Not this morning. He would have from her the ultimate surrender. Then, when they were so spent they could not breathe and feeling stole the strength from their limbs, he would confide what she was, elicit her seraph’s oath, and return to her the same ties of binding.
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