Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3)

by RB Austin

  His kisses drew closer to her center. The scents of jasmine and chocolate were so strong he almost felt high from it. He swiped his tongue up her center in a slow delicious swirl. Then lost all manners and dived in.

  Licking. Sucking. Plunging his tongue inside her. He drew the tight nub into his mouth. Swirled his tongue in mimic of how his fingers moved earlier.

  Asjhone’s legs wrapped around his back, knees squeezed his head. Moans were nonstop.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Sarid!” She screamed his name as her back arched off the bed. Her nails dug into his scalp, but he didn’t mind the pain. The sight of her breaking in front of him was better than anything else. When she fell back to the bed, arms and legs limp, he continued to nibble.

  “No more,” she said on a breath. Arms reached for him.

  He placed a few more kisses on her inner thigh and moved up her body the same way he went down it, this time ending at her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, held him close.

  “Can I do something for you?” She asked when his lips moved to kiss and suck at her neck.

  “You’ve already given me a gift.”

  She cupped his head, brought his face up. Concern marred her features.

  “I need nothing else.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Except your arms around me.”

  Her forehead smoothed, face softened. “I can do that.”

  “Perfect.” And he leaned in to kiss her again.

  Chapter 31

  FOUR DAYS LEFT

  Sarid had his Asjhone buffet once more before Keandre came home.

  They had fallen asleep after the first time. Waking her with his mouth, watching her eyes flutter open, her sleepy expression slowly changing into desire, need; absolutely perfect. He’d gladly be her alarm clock every single day of the week.

  Now he sat across from Pastor Ken. Her taste was still on his tongue. His thoughts centered on getting back to her and Keandre. To spend the day with them. Maybe go out.

  Would Gabe know a suitable place? Probably not. His ach would say something like a painting class and Sarid would show up with Asjhone and the boy to find the subject was a nude model.

  Yeah. Maybe Martha could help.

  “You seem distracted. Anything new?”

  Sarid focused on the pastor, shook his head.

  “Is the demon bothering you?”

  Another headshake.

  The choghen paused. “Only four days left. How does that make you feel?”

  He frowned.

  When Sarid didn’t speak, “Keandre tells me you’ve been spending time with him and his mother.”

  His eyebrows furrowed.

  “I was surprised. How is the demon with Asjhone and Keandre?”

  “Different.”

  “How?”

  “Quiet.” After a beat, he added, “I sometimes feel he is soothed by their presence.”

  The choghen’s eyes widened. “What do you think that means?”

  “I have no idea.” Pause. “It could be a trick. To weaken my defenses.”

  “Hmm, has the demon tricked you before?”

  “No. It normally goes for the straightforward, candid response. But there’s always a first time.”

  “Indeed.”

  There was something in the pastor’s tone. He studied the male sitting on the couch across from him, but couldn’t decipher anything. “I’ve gotten close with Asjhone.” The words fell out of his mouth and wished he could take them back.

  “I’m happy for you,” the pastor said, no hesitation.

  Sarid’s frown returned. “She wants to get closer.”

  “Hmm, and you don’t?”

  “No.” He may have shouted his reply.

  The choghen tried to hide a smile behind his hand. At Sarid’s glower, his expression turned serious. “You’re afraid.”

  “Of course, I am. What happens if I turn, right in the middle—” His fists clenched.

  “That’s a scary thought. But what if you don’t?”

  “That’s a hell of a chance, choghen.”

  “It is. But from what you’ve said, the little you’ve said, the demon is soothed by Asjhone—”

  “I said, I think he is.”

  “—You’ve gotten close to her already and nothing has occurred.”

  “But that was because I was in control the whole time.”

  “Hmm.”

  He scowled. “What does that mean?”

  “When Loretta was alive, control and the bedroom rarely coincided. But perhaps we were different.” He smiled. His gaze moved past Sarid. “She could make my blood boil with just one look. Even after thirty years of marriage I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.” His smile dropped, eyes grew sad.

  Sarid watched the pastor. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Ran a hand down the back of his head. Opened his mouth again.

  “It wasn’t always easy,” the pastor said before Sarid could speak. “With Loretta and I. We had our challenges. And when we were at our darkest, do you know what I did?” He raised his head.

  “What?” Sarid asked, matching the choghen’s subdued tone.

  I turned to the Creator. Trusted him to see me through. Find your trust, Sarid. Trust the Creator, and trust yourself. You’re stronger than you think.”

  Chapter 32

  “Is your homework finished?” Asjhone asked Keandre. They’d just gotten home. She set her purse on the table near the door and headed into the kitchen to start dinner. Her gaze darted to the clock on the wall. Running late. Again.

  “Yeah, I mean, yes,” Keandre said from the hallway.

  “Set it on the table so I can look through it, then go clean your room. Mr. Sarid’s coming over for dinner. He won’t be able to play with you if he can’t even walk in your bedroom.”

  Keandre grumbled.

  “Every Lego in the bucket, lil’ man. I mean it.” She raised her voice to be heard. “I’ll be checking under your bed, too.”

  More grumbling.

  “I can’t hear you, Keandre.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Asjhone shook her head at his exasperated tone and pulled the last pre-made dinner from the fridge.

  Insomnia meals had finally dwindled. Same with her nightmares. She contributed both to Sarid. Along with the smile she wore practically all the time, even when Tynice and Tony made fun of her. She was happy. And happy she was happy.

  After unwrapping the pan, she set the oven to four hundred. Lasagna, a family recipe. “I miss you, Mom,” she whispered. What she wouldn’t give to tell her all about Sarid. How good he was with Keandre. And with her.

  At first, Mother would be displeased. When Asjhone was a teenager, any conversation that turned to boys would end the same way. Just remember, Asjhone. Like goes with like. Her mother wasn’t a snob, not truly, just raised a certain way.

  Eventually she’d see what Asjhone saw.

  Daddy would like him right off. Sarid was who he said he was. No pretenses. Her father would like that about him.

  When tears pooled in her eyes she squeezed them shut. No time right now. Her shift had run over and then the pastor was chattier than usual when she picked up Keandre. The oven dinged its pre-heatedness. After placing the pan inside, she moved to the front room. Folded the blanket on the couch. Straightened the magazine and remotes on the coffee table. Her eyes caught a few of Keandre’s toys on the floor by the TV.

  The pastor asked her about Sarid and—

  Bounce. Bounce.

  “That wasn’t nearly enough time to do a proper job, Keandre. Back you go.”

  “I wanted to ask you something.” Bounce.

  “You can ask when your room’s clean. And, here, ta
ke these toys back with you.”

  “Devan’s going camping this weekend and his dad invited me. Can I go? Please, Mom.” Bounce. Bounce.

  “No weekend trips, Keandre. Maybe when you’re older.”

  “I knew you were going to say that,” Keandre wailed. “Why can’t I ever do anything? It’s not fair.” He stomped his feet.

  “What isn’t fair is your attitude, young man.” Her voice rose. “If you want to be able to play with Sarid later, march your butt into that room and clean it up without another word.”

  “You’re so mean.” Keandre slammed his ball to the ground with both hands.

  Chapter 33

  TWO DAYS LEFT

  Sarid bounded up the stairs to Asjhone’s apartment, bouquet in hand. The woman at the store said those were their most exotic flowers. At one time Gabe said women liked flowers. Sarid thought of nothing else but the pleasure on Asjhone’s face when she opened the door. She’d been working hard lately. Double and triple checking her work, afraid the doctor was going to try and get her fired.

  He’d contemplated visiting the doctor.

  Yes! Hurt. Maim. Just a bit. For the way she treats Mine.

  Asjhone wouldn’t like it, he told the demon. Again. For the fourth time.

  She did so good, standing up for herself. He didn’t want his actions to negate that. As soon as she said she wanted help, though . . .

  Hurt. Maim. Kill.

  Not kill. He said to the demon.

  He paused outside her door. Held the flowers out in front of him. Pursed his lips. Moved his hand behind his back.

  A surprise? Or the first thing she saw?

  Forget flowers. Knock on door. Find Mine. Touch.

  Sarid had just put his arm behind his back again when the noises from inside registered.

  Keandre was crying.

  He never heard Keandre cry before. Throw a temper tantrum when he didn’t want to go to bed or eat his peas, yes, but not cry.

  Next he heard ragged inhales. Asjhone.

  He stood inside her apartment, not even aware of his decision to open the door. And why wasn’t it locked? A glance in the kitchen, confirmed what he already knew. Empty.

  In the front room, she knelt on the floor. Back to him. Her shoulders shaking.

  Keandre’s cries were louder in the house. He resisted the urge to rush in the boy’s room. First, he needed to see Asjhone. He set the flowers on the coffee table.

  “Asjhone?”

  She startled, whipped around. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Angel, what’s going on?” Then glanced behind her. Saw pieces on the floor. Broken, colorful, African ceramic pieces.

  Her tears fell faster. The curls she’d gone back to bounced around her face and shoulders. “Keandre. His ball.”

  “Sarid! Mr. Sarid!”

  Asjhone’s expression turned so fierce Sarid recoiled. “Not another word, Keandre! I mean it. You don’t want me coming in there.”

  Keandre’s cries resumed, only louder, which Sarid didn’t think was possible. He glanced toward the hallway, swallowed. What punishment had she given the boy?

  Boy? Hurt? Protect. The demon whimpered. Mine. Hurt boy? Another whimper. Sad. Fix.

  Sarid knew how he felt.

  “Ouch. Dammit.”

  The smell of blood reached him before Sarid spied the cut on her hand. He took the hand-size broom and dustpan from her, set them on the floor, then examined the cut. It was small. The blood already started to clot. “Let me finish here,” he said softly. “You go wash that off, put a bandage on it.”

  After one more tearful glance at the broken vase, she left the room. Sarid swept the pieces, dumped them into the flower-covered garage bin from the bathroom Asjhone must have brought out. With a wet rag from the kitchen, he wiped the floor to catch specs of broken pieces. After making sure Asjhone was still down the hall, he allowed his Behn gaze to flare. It coated the world in blue, but he was able to see greater and with it found a piece of sharp ceramic that could’ve easily cut Keandre’s bare feet. He was just emptying the can in the kitchen garbage when she walked in, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bandage on her left palm. She’d scrubbed her face of tears, but her eyes were red rimmed and her sadness, the devastated look on her face, almost broke him.

  She motioned toward the broom and dustpan he placed under the sink. “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice was low, devoid of emotion.

  “I wanted to.” He pulled her to him. Her breath hitched and she wrapped her arms around him, laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry your vase was broken.”

  “It was the only thing left I had of my mother.”

  “I know,” he said, then hesitated, wanting to ask about Keandre. Images flashed in his head of whippings, restraint, burnings. His gaze fell on the counter. “Did you not eat?”

  She shook her head.

  “Let me fix you a plate.”

  Another shake. “I’m too upset to eat.”

  He rubbed her back. “What can I do for you?”

  “This is good. This is what I need.”

  He held her tighter, rested his chin on her head. He’d stay there all night if she needed him, too.

  Keandre had quieted, but then as if afraid of being ignored, cried out.

  “That kid just doesn’t know when to shut up.” She stepped out of his arms. Fists clenched.

  Fear spiked and before she could leave the kitchen, Sarid grabbed her arm. “Let me.” He licked his lips. “I’ll talk to him. You, you take a bath. Try to relax.”

  She paused, indecision running across her face. Then Keandre yelled again and her body tensed. Heat filled her cheeks. “I’m not going to tell you again, Keandre! You are on my last nerve.”

  Sarid cupped her shoulders, turned her around, placed a kiss on her forehead, nose, mouth. “Go take a bath. It’s been a long day. You deserve it. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” He headed down the hall, placed himself in front of Keandre’s door while she got things from her bedroom. In the bathroom doorway she laid a hand on his chest, rose on tiptoe to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  He waited until the door was closed before facing Keandre’s room. No matter what, Asjhone loved her boy. She wasn’t like his mother.

  Pinned to the ground, ropes had wrapped Sarid’s ankles, wrists. A crowd had surrounded him. Closing in.

  Tears had streamed down his face. An apology tripped from his mouth, on repeat until it became one long plea.

  “Help me, Mother.”

  She knelt. Gripped his head. Held him still. “You deserve this,” she hissed. “Now shut up and take your punishment.”

  The blade pierced his cheek. Pain, searing and excruciating, tore through him. His screams had been high-pitched and never ending.

  Sometimes boys needed to learn things the hard way.

  Find Boy. Help.

  No matter what they wouldn’t be mad at Asjhone.

  Hand shaking, he sucked in a breath and opened the door. The room was dark except for the Snoopy nightlight in the corner. Light from the hallway fell upon the small bed.

  Keandre squinted into the light, hand raised to shield his eyes. “Mr. Sarid!” He bounded across the room and threw himself against Sarid’s legs, clinging.

  Sarid scooped him into his arms. No limbs appeared to be broken. His relief was brief.

  The boy buried his face into Sarid’s neck, tears dripping onto his shirt.

  Sarid rubbed his back, carried him to the bed and sat down. He gently grasped Keandre’s shoulders and pushed him back, bracing himself for what he would see. He cupped the boy’s face, twisted his head to one side, then the other. His eyes narrowed. “What happened?” He ra
n his hand down Keandre’s body. Inhaled deep. No blood, fresh or dried. Did he have internal injuries?

  Keandre sniffed, swiped his hand under his nose. “Mom won’t let me go camping with Devan, and then she took my ball away and I can’t play with it for a whole month. That’s like forever. And she sent me to bed early like a baby. Alls I got for dinner was a PB and J. That’s it. No dessert. None of that pie she made. I’m starving. I only had a ham sandwich for lunch and then two cookies when I got home. But that’s not enough. I’m starving!” His voice rose, tears brimming again. “I’m going to die in here and Mom doesn’t even care. And I really want to go camping. Sleep outside in a tent and fishing and doing other fun stuff. Mom never lets me do anything. And now I can’t even play ball and Devan will find someone else to play with ‘cause I can’t anymore. Mom doesn’t even care.”

  Sarid couldn’t speak for a moment. The boy’s punishment for breaking Asjhone’s precious vase was no ball, a sandwich, and an early bedtime. He glanced toward the doorway. He could hear her in the tub. Too easily remember the pain on her face. The utter anguish in her eyes. The flash of anger when she yelled at Keandre from across the house. If he hadn’t had any other reasons to love her, then this would be it. She truly was an angel.

  Keandre’s last words registered and he focused on the boy. “I don’t think that’s true, do you?”

  His lips pursed and he shrugged, folded his arms across his chest.

  “Why did Mom take your ball?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze.

  Sarid lifted the boy’s chin with his finger. “Your mom was upset when I came in. Her vase was broken.”

  Keandre’s lower lip quivered.

  “She really loved that vase.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose! I got so mad I couldn’t go camping and it slipped out of my hands.”