Jewel of the Sun's Blood Destiny

by Bekki Lynn

  “I’m going to shower,” she told him.

  Elan leaned against the doorframe, watching her. For the first time, he let her see what he was feeling. Sadness. Why should he be sad? He got what he wanted. The spell was broken. He could go on with his life now. His brow crinkled and movement in his throat left her unnerved. She watched his eyes move over hers and she realized he didn’t seem to care she was naked. Granted, he’d seen her naked, felt her naked, it would be nothing. Even less now without some spiritual force controlling them.

  “I won’t be long,” she mumbled when she felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the thought of him thinking about watching her masturbate when he looked at her. She reached for her bathrobe and saw the dirt markings. It was a reminder of last night and she gave it a toss.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Take me back to that world where my grandfather was still alive. She curbed the thought. The last thing he’d want was a grieving woman needing him. “Thanks, but there is nothing.” He cradled her face, and she fought the urge to lean into a hand.

  “You aren’t alone.”

  She laid her fingers against his lips. “Please. Don’t. You aren’t obligated to do anything, except I’d appreciate it if you notified your grandfather.”

  He kissed her fingers and took her hand down. “He knows.”

  Cassandra nodded, understanding. The spiritual bond between him and his friend would have conveyed it. He would have sent Elan to her. He didn’t come because he wanted to. She started to walk away, but he grabbed her and pulled her against him, claiming her mouth with his. At first, she tried to pull away, but the sweet, familiar taste of him drew her in. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she latched onto his open coat. He moved slow and easy over her lips and she relaxed into him as her body turned to putty. Slow tingles moved through her. They were welcome, wanted and she wanted to lose herself in him, make slow, slow love to him. Not the fiery, desperate rush they’d been experiencing. His hands moved over her bare flesh, pulling her closer. She wound her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth closer to hers. Tongues danced and she felt his erection through his jeans and wanted it.

  It wasn’t right. Standing here naked, wanting to make love to a man who had gained the freedom he wanted with the loss of someone she loved. Sympathy sex wasn’t what she needed. She pushed away from him. “No.” Then she rushed to the bathroom across the hall and shut the door.

  Turning on the shower, she stepped under the freezing water without bothering to adjust the temperature. She rubbed her arms and saw the goose bumps pop out of her fair skin, reminding her of a plucked chicken. She huffed. Well, at least they had something in common. It may have lost its feathers and wouldn’t be around long enough to care, but she would be around to miss what was plucked from her.

  Fresh tears fell and she turned her face up into the spray. She knew she had to look like blotchy nectarine skin, and she hoped the cold water helped. If she could stave off the tears long enough for it to work, of course. It was so damn hard. Her grandfather was gone. No one to come home to, talk to, or watch movies with and no one to listen to her troubles, give her unwanted, even outdated advice.

  His face swam before her and stopped. She stared into his clear blue eyes and saw the loving grin. She choked on a sob. She should never have gotten onto him about his interference in her personal life where Elan was concerned. He had every right to care and do what he thought was right. He loved her and she was all the family had. He’d been all she had.

  “My dear, Sandra. You’ll never be alone.” He winked as he faded away.

  Cassandra closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the tile wall, biting down on her bottom lip to hold in the pain putting so much pressure on her chest. If she let it out, Elan would be there in seconds He wouldn’t be good for her right now. Her heart was already too attached to him and it wasn’t real. Her love, her feelings were all based on something not of their making. She’d reminded herself of the fact a hundred times since she found her grandfather’s lifeless body and wanted to call him.

  The water went off and air hit her skin.

  Chapter 15

  A towel came around her shoulders and she jerked back from the wall. Elan lifted her from the tub. “It’s not good to be alone right now.” He set her on the floor and started to rub her down with the towel, but she took it from him, sniffling. “I can manage.”

  He cradled her face. “Death is not an end.”

  Cassandra pulled away from him, her heart swelling with an overwhelming fullness. “Please, I need to finish showering and dress.”

  “Yes.” Élan pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. “My Evening Sun, you are not alone.”

  “You don’t need to keep up the game. It’s over.”

  “The triad’s interference, yes.”

  She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, but then extracted herself from his arms, wiping her face with the towel. He wanted to talk about what their families had done when one part of the triad duals had died. She couldn’t. “I’m not in any shape to go anywhere. I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “No!”

  Shocked by his sharpness, she looked up at him, speechless. The gentleness of his expression took the bite from his words and her heart fluttered. She must harden herself against him, but she didn’t know if she had the strength right now.

  “We have unfinished business.”

  “Do we? It seems the key to breaking the spell was not sex, but death breaking the last of the triad duals.”

  “Cassandra—”

  “Give me ten minutes.” She reached over and turned the shower back on.

  * * * *

  Cassandra entered the mudroom before him and stood staring at the floor where they’d uncontrollably went at it last night. It should have bothered her. It had when she left a few hours earlier. In fact, when she’d awakened in the darkness of his room, she had felt appalled at what they’d done. More of what he’d seen her do. She swallowed a groan as she bit down on her lip.

  Elan reached around and started to undo her coat, but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t treat me like an invalid!” She faced him as soon as she realized she snapped at him. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. It’s just last night, here…” With a shake of her head, she unbuttoned her coat and he slipped it from her shoulders and hung it on the nearest hook.

  “You need rest,” he said as he guided her toward the kitchen door and through it, saying, “I’ll start a fire.”

  She went through the kitchen and into the living room. In the daylight, it was hard to believe so much had happened in there not so many hours ago. It didn’t seem to bother her as it had when she’d come down the stairs to leave. Maybe her grandfather’s death put things in perspective and she would realize none of it mattered. And in time, the infatuation she had for her Apache Love would fade.

  She kicked off her shoes and sat in the corner of his black leather sofa, drawing her feet up beside her.

  Elan set the fireplace screen aside and she watched him grab the shovel from the stand to scoop ashes into the bucket. His sweater started to ride up with his movements. The first time she’d seen it happen seemed like eons ago. What was it, almost three weeks ago in the studio as he reached for nail polish? She rubbed her forehead. No, the first time she saw his flesh, part of the birthmark was the day she ended a mistake. The day all this began—two months ago. The day the gems passed from her hands to his.

  When he reached over to pull kindling from the galvanized bucket near the tool stand, his sweater rode higher, teasing her with his warm firm lower back. She realized in the time they’ve spent together this was the first time she really looked at his birthmark. It was an arrowhead, well a broken one. The top was missing. What an interesting thing to go through her mind now, but it wasn’t as bad as wanting to run her hands over his flesh and let the passion rise between them at its own pace. Unlike the animalistic way they had been g
oing after each other. She shut her eyes to block out his bare flesh. Her grandfather had died while they’d consumed one another. How could she think of having sex now?

  Fresh tears streamed down her face and embarrassment washed over her at the thought of him watching her masturbate. How could she have done such a private thing in front of him? Something she didn’t have a habit of doing at all, in fact.

  How could she think about herself when she’d lost someone who meant everything to her? She laid her fingers over her mouth to help stave off the blubbering she felt trying to escape. It was all so much to deal with. She should never have come with him.

  Sounds of metal against brick had her eyes opening. Elan had replaced the screen and was wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned around. He studied her and she lowered her eyes to hide from him. The last thing he needed to see was the confused pain and need. She didn’t want him to feel obligated, because of the relationship between their families. He’d made it clear there was no room in his life for a woman. All he’d wanted was to rid them of the curse, ultimately getting rid of her in all senses.

  She sniffled and reached for a tissue from the box on the end table. A sketchpad lay there. Curious, she picked it up and sat up. After blowing her nose, she opened it and thumbed through the various drawings. She recognized many as scenes seen from his home’s vantage point. Like the place where she sat and read, the river, and others that might be from his backyard. It didn’t surprise her to find he was a talented artist. She continued to flip through the pages expecting more landscape drawings, but she came across a nude of a woman. Frowning, she looked from the woman to him. “You drew a woman wearing your set.”

  “Look closer.”

  Lowering her eyes to the drawing, she studied it. It sort of looked like her wearing the peridot set. Not strange considering, but why draw her? “Why would you draw me when you have the photos?”

  “I drew it the very first night we met. The jewelry design, the birthmark…”

  Birthmark? She looked over the drawing and saw it on the inner thigh of her right leg with a bent knee. “I don’t…” But then she rubbed her thigh, remembering she did have the birthmark. “I’d forgotten about it.”

  “Tilt the page.” He turned and lifted his sweater. She looked at the pad from a different angle and up at his birthmark he’d turned to show her. “It’s the top of yours, but how?”

  He lowered the sweater and turned back to her. “I could understand drawing you, seeing the night’s earlier event, but the mark is specific. I didn’t understand until last night when I saw it on you.”

  A sigh escaped her as fatigue settled in. She stifled a yawn and lay against the arm of the couch, wiping her nose. “It’s too much right now.” The lids of her eyes closed on their own accord. She wiped at the tear running down the side of her face.

  Elan caressed her head, causing her to jump and look at him. He sat on the coffee table in front of her, holding a steaming cup. When had he left the room? Had she dosed off?

  “I want you to sip on this,” he said, holding it out to her.

  She took the cup as she sat up. “It smells familiar.”

  “Bay leaf tea.”

  Cassandra nodded and took a sip. “Grandpa used to make it for me.” She took another sip and let the smoothness run down her throat. “He learned of it from your family, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he would have. It has many attributes to help heal physical, spiritual and the emotion.”

  “I think I lived on this during high school, because he didn’t know how to handle a teenage girl’s dramatics.”

  He sat next to her, bringing her against him. “He left you memories.”

  She adjusted her position and let her head rest against his arm. “Right about now, he’d be starting coffee and getting the newspaper from the paper box. He’d have coffee, read the paper and come to the comics when I’d walk in. While I fixed us breakfast…he’d read them to me.” She brushed the tears from her face and took a long drink of the tea. “Lots of memories to flood my mind. It’s hard.”

  Elan kissed the side of her head then said, “His spirit’s with you. Let it comfort you.”

  She caught herself when she felt herself start to lean into him. It wouldn’t be wise to depend on him. He’d be out of her life soon and she’d have to learn to be alone. She took another long, slow drink of the tea and closed her eyes. The clock on the mantle chimed the eight o’clock hour. She set the cup on the coffee table. “I need to call into work.”

  “You aren’t going back.”

  She looked up at him, “Not until after the funeral.”

  “No. I mean ever.”

  Confused, she stared at him, but then she realized it’d only been last night when Rick assaulted her outside the liquor store. “It seems so long ago. I’m supposed to go to the police station today to file charges, sign papers or whatever.” She hadn’t given the incident more than a fleeting thought. Or thought about how it could affect her job. Still, she had a responsibility to call and let them know of the death of her grandfather and she’d need a few a days to get things taken care of. Then, she’d worry about her job and ex. She ran her fingers through her hair. “I can’t worry about him right now. I need to do what I have to for my grandfather. Professionally, it means informing my employer of a death in the family.”

  “The phone’s on the desk. I’ll get you another cup of the tea.” He took the near empty cup and left her alone to make the call.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans and went to the phone. She’d never called into work before, but at least she knew Rick wouldn’t be answering this morning.

  The phone rang several times, causing her to frown. The service should have picked up if it hadn’t been switched over by anyone yet. She counted twelve more rings, then heard a breathless voice and cringed. How’d he…why’s he out of jail? Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. “Rick, it’s Cassandra. My grandfather passed away early this morning and I’m going to be out for a few days.”

  “I need you in today. If you don’t show, you’re fired.”

  She hesitated, but not for long. “I’ll let someone know when I’ll be back once the arrangements have been made.” She hung up not taking the bait. He couldn’t fire her over this and they both knew it. Chilled from having to speak to him at all, she went to stand near the fire. Shaking her head, she rubbed her arms. It gave her the creeps to know he’d been bailed out before the charges were even official. His father’s doing, she decided.

  Elan came up beside her. She took the cup when he handed it to her. “Thank you.” Blowing on the hot liquid, she was aware he watched her. Without looking up at him, she said, “Rick answered the phone. He said if I don’t come in today, I’m fired.”

  “Illegal firing.”

  “He knows it is. It’s his way of letting me know he’s going to be a thorn in my side.” She took a sip of the tea to wash down the sudden thickness in her throat. It was hard not to turn to Elan and ask him to hold her. And that brought up something which had been nagging her off and on while she sat in the back yard in stunned disbelief. “Every single time I’ve had run-in with Rick, I’ve ended up in bed with you the same night. What does it say about me? How had it affected my grandfather to know his granddaughter went off and didn’t come home until morning? Had he worried himself into a heart attack when I disappeared again, last night?”

  He touched her shoulder and turned her to face him as he took the cup and set it on the mantle. With his thumbs, he brushed the fresh tears from beneath her eyes. “You didn’t bring his death.”

  His voice had softened, touching her in a way she didn’t need right now. He was being kind. “You should take me home. I have arrangements to make and you have to get to the studio soon.”

  “No. Stay. Rest here.” His lips brushed her forehead and she found herself leaning toward him. His arms came around her, holding her and she allowed herself to rest against his chest. The beat of his hea
rt pounded in her ear, becoming the most soothing thing she could have right now. She moved closer and felt the bulge behind his zipper. The urge to make slow, passionate love with him returned. She turned her face up to him and his lips found hers. His soft, full lips moved over hers with a tenderness she needed right now. She brushed her fingers along his cheeks, leaving them to rest there as their mouths tested and tasted with unhurried need. His hair fell into her face and she smoothed it back breaking contact. She scanned his eyes and saw a deep, dark controlled hunger. It tugged at a need deep within her, and she wanted to take the chance. She needed to know this side of them, even if it bit her in the ass later.

  Her insides quivered when his mouth returned to hers and she slipped her tongue between his lips. He rolled his around hers in erotic circles. Shivers swept through her and his arms tightened on her lower back. Her hands moved over the span of his broad shoulders, kneading the solid muscles, needing the strength they held, wanting to sink her teeth into him as their bodies moved together, his wonderful length pumping in and out of her. The blatant desire shooting through her both relaxed her and terrified her. It was her. It was them.

  She glided down his arms to his waist, searching and finding the end of his sweater and lifted, exposing heated flesh. Her breathing hitched when he quivered beneath her touch. He sucked on her tongue, long, slow, drawing to the tip. He stepped back and whipped the sweater over his head, his eyes watching hers with more than his steely look. Those dark, beautiful eyes hungered for her and he wanted her to know.

  He came back to her and she ran her tongue over the path of dark strands lying over his breast center, trailing to his nipple. His fingers tangled in her hair and she took the hard bud between her lips and sucked with an intense need to bring him to his knees.

  Elan’s breath caught and she dared a glance up at him. He’d tipped his face toward the ceiling as he moaned. She moved to the other bud, circling the hard tip with her tongue, before trailing her lips up to his neck where she rested, trying to catch her breath. If she didn’t slow things down, she was going to take him here and now. He was hard and she hurt to have him. She wanted to run her tongue up his shaft before he plunged into her. Her hips moved against him. No, she told herself, breathing hard against his neck. She caressed his chest and whimpered when his hand stopped her.