Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  “Remain abed, I will return.”

  She flopped back down, eyelids heavy. Another question avoided. Whatever he was going to do, she was determined to steal a few minutes shuteye while waiting.

  “Keer’dra!”

  Emily lurched. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Dezenial chuckled. “Wake up.”

  She collapsed against numerous pillows. “Can’t. Too tired. My body is lead.”

  “I have granted you three hours.”

  “Granted?”

  “Yes. I thought to be generous.”

  “Oh, okay. Pfff. Really? I crashed for three hours? It feels like minutes.”

  She sat bolt upright, sniffing loudly. “You ate too, huh? And bathed!”

  Laughter surrounded her. “I have eaten. Your father has brought you clothing. Come,” he held out his hand. She eyed his fingers, blushing with memory of all they were capable of.

  “I warn you, Keer’dra, I will take you again. Banish your musings.”

  She looked up at him, hopeful.

  “What have I done?”

  “Yes,” she scooted to the edge of the bed, grasping the sheet to her bareness. “It is your fault. If you were a lousy lover—“

  Her chin was cupped, yanking her head to look up at him. “I am no mere lover.”

  “You’re still naked?”

  “Do you understand? I am your life-mate. I will kill defending you. I will kill any who try to take you from me. Our ways allow you and I to find other mates.” He moved his body within an inch of her face. “You and I will not be practicing that prerogative.”

  “Were you walking around like this?”

  “I have stripped down in order to take you into the bathing chamber. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

  Devilish grin smeared her face as she licked her bottom lip. He searched her eyes, looking for denial; making sure he had not read her mind erroneously. His finger delicately traced her soft lips, teasing open her mouth, slipping inside allowing her to suckle his finger.

  Her wet tongue was his undoing.

  Grasping himself, he offered to her the taste of him. Most willingly, she accepted, reveling the power she suddenly felt. Her small hands rested against his thighs as he guided himself in the warmth of her mouth. Unable to contain himself another second, he roared, lifting her from the bed.

  “Wrap your legs around me. Now!”

  She obeyed, slowly sliding down upon his hardness. They fell back upon the bed, his plunging a furious tempo she matched just as violently, raking his chest, thrilling when his skin bled. Brazenly, she pushed against him, rolling him onto his back, matching his thrusts as she straddled him. Her breasts were squeezed, she cupping his hands, encouraging him to squeeze harder. He let go, yanked her hair, pulling her down to him. It was her turn to bite his neck. Though her human teeth failed to break skin, he pressed her head, encouraging her to bite harder.

  He rolled them, dominating atop her once again. Throwing back his head, he bellowed loudly as he exploded inside of her, gripping her thighs with massive strong hands. Panting, dripping sweat, he gazed down at his tiny woman in awe. “What have you done to me, Keer’dra?” His eyes seared a trail down her body to where he still was deeply embedded in her.

  She licked her lips.

  He laughed, moving quickly to cover her mouth. “Do not do that. I beg mercy. Please do not do that to me.” He freed himself of her, pulling her with him. “I’m sure your father has been entertained enough. Bathe.” He pointed towards the softly lit alcove, mindless of the red staining her face over the reminder her father was but a room away.

  “My legs feel like rubber.”

  Quickly, he lifted her. “I will bathe you. It is very important you eat immediately.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve gone a few days without eating before.”

  “Yes, but this time, you are with child.”

  “What?!”

  “You slept the intoxicating deep sleep only following sex containing the seed strong enough for the battle into your womb.”

  “Jesus, don’t quit your day job and start writing poetry. We’ll be homeless.”

  “Gosh darn, lil’ lady, I think you’re pregnant,” he said, imitating a thick Texas drawl.

  Emily roared with laughter. “Shut up, Dezenial.” She laughed again.

  “I do not think I like this, being told to ‘shut up’.”

  “Get used to it.” She raised a hand, halting his litany, and mimicked his voice. “Not in public, or you’ll have your tongue cut out.”

  “I should beat you.”

  “I’m not intimidated by your threats.”

  “I could refuse you sex for several weeks.”

  “I will cower at your feet accordingly.”

  “At last, I find a way to control you.” Gingerly, he set her down in front of the deep pool.

  “I still can’t believe this is actually a bath.”

  “Those porcelain contraptions you humans—uh, your brethren call baths are an abomination.”

  She giggled. “I agree.” She eyed the scratch marks on his chest. “Sorry. I get a bit crazed.”

  “It is a Lumynari trait.” He grinned. “One I enjoy.”

  “Gah. You would. What did you and my father discuss while I slept the sleep of the dead during the great battle into my womb?” She rolled her eyes, sauntering down the wide shallow steps into heavenly hot water.

  “I do not speak in this ridiculous voice you enjoy impersonating.”

  She waved him off. “What plots did you discuss with my deadly dad?”

  “That you are incubating.”

  “What?!”

  “That you are—“

  “I heard you, Bubba! Seriously? You discussed my womb—“

  “Of course.”

  “Oh my God, Dezenial!” She splashed him.

  He torqued sideways. “Ha! Missed!” Laughing together like kids, he guided her deeper into the water, black hot liquid enveloping their bodies. “It would seem your anger has turned to purring.”

  “You’re cut off from sex. And I’m shaving your head. And snapping off your fangs—“

  “You wouldn’t survive it.”

  “Shut up. I’m angry at you right now.”

  He sank into the water, pulled her against him and licked her neck.

  “Okay, I’ll be angry at you in a minute.”

  “Imp.”

  She arched her neck to the side. “Wanna bite?”

  “No, and I told you, I can’t. Cease with your teasing. The final time I bite you, Keer’dra, your soul will forever be possessed by mine.”

  “Isn’t that what we are already, soulmates?”

  She felt his body change. Turning to look up at him, the playfulness vanished, replaced by a quiet seriousness. “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “It will change you.”

  “What, I might finally be able to bite back?”

  Grinning, he shook his head, turned her around and began washing her hair. His hands, he noted, were massive against her small shoulders. Unable to resist, he reached around her, cupping her breast, allowing its weight to sit in his palm.

  “Two can play this game.” She reached back, cupping between his legs until he laughed, shrugging her hand away.

  Moaning, tilting her head back, she enjoyed the luxury of her very own masseuse. His growing hardness was too good to pass up pressing back. Without warning, she pushed away from him and sniffed. “What do I smell?”

  “Dreadful stuff inhabitants from your world dare call food.”

  “Cinnamon rolls!” She smacked his arm. “Move or die!” Attempting to shove past him, his laughter enveloped the room as she tried sidestepping him. He encircled her small waist, hauling her back against his nakedness. Soapy hands roamed all over her body, cleansing her while she squirmed, batted and swatted, struggling to be free his iron grip. Her stomach joined the fracas, rumbling its annoyance at having suffered so long without nourishment. Dezen
ial dunked her, holding her down for several seconds.

  Until the most intimate part of him was unceremoniously yanked.

  Howling, he pulled her free of the water, slamming her against him again. “For that, I should make you not eat today.”

  “Have you forgotten how much I like fire?”

  His voice was low and purposefully seductive. “Have you forgotten how much I enjoy the taste of you?” The look on her face, torn between wanting to eat, and wanting to sexually play caused him to laugh as he pushed her away. “Go. Get your food.”

  She paused. His grin was beautiful, his body breathtaking as it submerged. She dried off quickly before she changed her mind and rejoined him. Slipping a few times, she squeaked, coming close to landing on her butt.

  “Keer’dra! You will harm yourself, should you fall.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off, wrapping the massive towel around her body, escaping to pursue delicious aromas wafting free from the galley.

  * * * * *

  “You still search through your books, why?” Emily asked, mouth full of warm bread slathered with melted butter and apricot preserves. She no longer cared how they came into possession of such delights, so long as they never ran out. She’d already wolfed down two cinnamon rolls. Decadent. And was on her second cup of coffee. Life was good.

  “Your vision,” Inzyr mumbled, preoccupied by what he was reading. “Checking against what . . . you saw.” His finger ran down the page, his muttering dropping down too low for Emily to hear. A strong hand clasped her shoulder. Dezenial smiled down at her, his gaze a soft caress before settling himself in front of his own plate of food. He made her blissfully happy; alive.

  “So, what do you eat? Fresh kill still bleeding?”

  “I prefer still living. Quivering, when pierced with my fork, adds a certain freshness to the flavor.”

  “Disgusting.”

  He stabbed something on his plate. Screaming pierced behind her. Emily yelped, threw her arm up, and dove halfway off her chair. Male laughter erupted. Like two boys triumphant with an awful prank. She glared at her father’s back, the assassin returning to his books.

  Dezenial still laughed.

  She pulled her spoon back and released. Orange, sticky glob boomeranged through the air and landed squarely—

  Girlish giggles filled the apartment as Emily erupted from the table. Dezenial lashed out, grasping her towel. She froze. One more inch, and the towel would no longer offer modesty.

  “Remove this.”

  She glanced his iron grip on the towel. “You want me to remove the towel? Here? You said never to allow anyone to view my body.”

  “This madness upon my flesh, Keer’dra!”

  She could have sworn snickering slipped from her father. She turned around, picked up a linen napkin—

  “That’s too easy. Lick it off!”

  “Well, if you insist.” Straddling his thigh, she dipped her head, very aware that certain naked parts under the towel rubbed against his thigh. She shifted, ever-so-slight upon his leather-clad leg. Warm tongue slowly grasped the bottom of apricot preserves, and lapped upward. Without warning, she suckled the sweet into her mouth, catching his flesh as well. A few seconds, and she released him, grinning wickedly when she saw the slight raspberry mark her mouth had left behind. “Better?”

  “My mating quarters are no longer for use,” Inzyr announced dryly.

  Emily watched Dezenial’s throat bob. “Something catch your tongue?”

  He set her from him, giving her a smack on her bum. “She needs clothing.”

  Inzyr grunted, pointing to the couch near him. Curious, Emily sauntered across the polished, cold floor. Her back scorched, passionate eyes following her while she licked her fingers free of butter and jam. Wiping them on her damp towel, she examined the clothing. The room filled with sounds of ooohs and ahhhs. Draped over the overstuffed couch, a long white skirt of softest velvet, together with a silky, long sleeved white shirt waited for her. For the shirt, the cuffs were heavily embroidered with silver threads, a swirling design identical to the hem of long, gauzy shirt. The skirt looked to be straight with a long side-split, the edges too done in the silver threading. Both pieces were beyond gorgeous. Delicate. Feminine.

  “This can’t be for me.”

  “You do not approve?” Her father paused, leather-bound tome in hand.

  “They’re so . . . pure.” She fingered the fabric gently. “Exquisite.”

  Dezenial’s presence caressed her, only a breath away, yet enveloping. “I told you, a priest awaits us, Keer’dra. You are worthy of white, Lady Emily.”

  She raised her eyes to find him looking at her with raw emotion. “I would have stepped away,” he said, his deep baritone full of passion. “But, I see your thoughts, and I know your heart even when your words attempt to flay me.” He traced her lips, then cupped her face. “Dress, Keer’dra. I have made you mine in the ways of my world, now I will take you in the tradition you recognize from your realm of humans. I will allow no doubt to remain in your mind, my claim upon you.” He dropped his hand, held her gaze for several more seconds before turning away, where he stalked to another door she’d yet to notice. “I will not be kept waiting. Inzyr, bring your daughter, as is customary in her world and Olympus.”

  Her father gave a short bow, turning to his offspring. “Your eyes leak.”

  She swiped quickly, drying her hands on her towel before lifting the beautiful clothing. “Were these—“

  “They were hers.”

  “You married her?”

  “Yes. In nine thousand years, she is the only female I ever made such a vow to.”

  “Thank you,” Emily whispered, clasping the fine fabric against her heart, bonding with the spirit of her mother.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Inzyr held out his arm. His most prized possession shyly placed her tapered fingers around his forearm, and drew close, smiling up at him. He very nearly fell to his knees and sobbed like a small child. Though Emily was his image, her smile definitely came from his beloved Kendra. Her final gift to him, this miracle—and maddening—legacy of a rare event for Lumynari: ability to love, marry, and remain faithful. Even now, twenty-four years after Kendra’s passing, Inzyr had never shared his heart again.

  Except with this amazing gift by way of Kendra’s infinite love. He felt his pride swell; his heart break, for his beloved was not here. Maybe, just maybe, having lit the appropriate candles and prayed for several hours, his request had been heard and carried out by the gods—that Kendra, from wherever her soul resided, would be granted ability to look down and watch their daughter take her vows.

  Upon a stone path littered with fragrant rose petals, Emily soundlessly stepped. He smiled to himself. His daughter clutched his forearm as if walking towards her execution. She was as beautiful and as brave as her mother had been . . . and, he couldn’t refrain from feeling smug, as deadly and temperamental as himself. He breathed easier this day, lighter than he’d felt in a very long time. He knew Dezenial did as well. This path had waited four thousand years to come to pass; for her to walk into the arms of her life-mate. The Claiming. He hoped her shockingly fierce courage would see her through what was about to transpire. Not even Kendra had been faced with what Emily was about to experience. He had his orders.

  Prevent her from bolting.

  * * * * *

  The presence of many was felt, but remained nothing more than shadowy figures. Dark hair was about all she could make out. Roses perfumed the air, coupled with an odd spicy scent reminding her of cardamom, and something she couldn’t quite get enough of. Heavenly. Like those old timey candle shops back home where various fragrances comingle. Home. No longer a state in some parallel universe. Nope. Home would now be wherever Dezenial was. A smile teased her lips. She inhaled again. Ah, now she recognized the scent, the same one that seemed to cling to Dezenial when she’d first been whisked into his arms after Peter’s attack.

  Golden bowls o
f flames, placed on tall marble pillars, romantically illuminated the dais. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was in a Greek temple. White columns swirled upwards to such heights, if she craned her neck back, she’d topple. And wouldn’t that leave an impression with the guests she still could sense more than see? An elderly man, draped in long lavender robes, studied her as she and her father drew near. Where was Dezenial? Her foot upon the first wide, shallow step, Dezenial casually strode into the firelight, his eyes smoldering down at her.

  Emily faltered.

  Her father’s grip on the small of her back tightened.

  Her warrior was clad in white! And she thought he’d looked hot in black! Just as her tunic was embroidered with loops and swirls of silver threads, Dezenial’s was nearly identical, though left open, baring his muscular chest and tapered waist. Silver-ribboned cuffs grazed his magical fingers.

  Breathe, Emily, she schooled herself.

  His white suede leggings with tightly braided seams hugged magnificent thighs incased in boots of palest skins. His hair was left flowing, firelight heightening its luminosity.

  Gently, she grasped her long skirt, terrified she’d trip over the beautiful silver hem. And continued to ascend towards a being she was madly in love with. He watched her with open possessiveness. It kinda made her toes curl and her insides go squishy, and swell with enormity of being loved by such a powerful creature. His lopsided grin made her giggle.

  He looked . . . angelic.

  White brow arched down at her.

  Okay, almost angelic. She rather hoped the angelic would go no further than his clothing.

  She liked the idea of having her very own bad-boy.

  A flash of humor crossed his chiseled face.

  Her father placed her hand into Dezenial’s outstretched one of strength. “I gift you, Lord Dezenial, my daughter’s body, blood, and soul to keep. Should you fail in the endeavor I entrust you with, your own body, blood and soul I will eliminate from this world, as well as exterminate you from next.”

  Dezenial bowed his head.