by K H Lemoyne
Now, after all the precautions, it was finally time to pull back the walls of her self-imposed prison.
Travel to Turen was a result of his pull, not hers. Her deduction and the key to stemming the fold lay in isolating the trigger, not hard once she reconsidered her process. Her hypothesis: his heartbeat allowed her to stimulate the open connection, allowing his body to seek hers, her heartbeat and her rhythm. At least most of the time.
She had no solid proof, though proof wasn’t a big factor in surviving the unbelievable occurrences of these past months. The biggest confirmation was her stability in the house since she’d implemented the range of audible rhythms as a shield. She left the house with no fewer than six mechanical watches secured on her body. The ticks and clicks, at first infuriating, eventually grew into a soothing balm.
With her life at stake, her safeguards had nothing to do with Turen. If he could find her, then the man she’d stabbed could also. She spent too long held against him after he’d dropped to the ground. Fear of his retribution forced her diligence with every single mechanism in the house. He would have no trouble finding her if Turen could.
With one last issue to resolve, the hiding was over.
The air didn’t stir, but she sensed him.
She opened her eyes. The glint of firelight flickered in the light gray pools of his eyes. His expression was hard and strained, his shorter black hair revealing the tension in his jawline.
That he didn’t speak sent a tremor of unease along her skin. His voice she could read, its emotion, its timbre as familiar to her as her own name. The dungeon’s darkness had blessed her with the intimacy of his voice. She possessed less confidence with the looks and expressions of his face.
Hands deep in his pockets, he stood and watched her. No surprise reflected in his eyes, only intensity as his gaze traveled across her face. She drank him in as he assessed her with an inscrutable expression. Was it need written in the lines of his face, dark and passionate, or was she imposing her desires upon the vision before her?
A log crackled in the fire, and the look was gone.
How unfair. Their first chance to see each other without the shadow of the dungeon or the moonlight pallor of battle and this was their most important and dangerous meeting of all.
“I was hoping you would hold out longer, Mia.”
A lie? A lack of conviction threaded his words, but she would leave him that. “Either your people or Xavier’s will find me.” Neither wanted her alive. The Guardian warriors had been enraged at her attack on one of their own. If they hadn’t been embroiled in a fight with Xavier’s guards, she wouldn’t be alive now. No doubt Turen shared his brethren’s sentiments. Even she couldn’t put aside the nightmarish memories of her actions.
He glanced around the room. A frown marred Turen’s features as his gaze traveled along the multitude of wall clocks, many of them with faces open and props jimmied to stop their mechanisms. With a sigh, he swung back to her. “This wasn’t a risk you should have taken. It could have been one of the others who came for you. They will eventually.”
His hand withdrew from his pocket. The firelight sparkled across the blade of a small crystal dagger, beautiful in construction, facets gleaming, deadly in design. From across the room, she could make out the glint of the precision edge.
Drawing in her breath and fighting for composure, Mia dug her fingers tighter into the comforter wrapped about her. The warmth from the fire at her back didn’t quell the chill biting at her nerves. She took a good look at the man she’d spent more intimate, raw hours with than anyone else in her life.
He wasn’t Alex. Turen’s actions had always warranted her trust. Her life hung on her conviction that he hadn’t changed. She let confidence wave away the chill as she lifted her chin.
“So you’ve picked the short straw?” she said.
Turen bowed his head. His fingers shifted around the knife, his mouth a thin line and the wrinkle between his brows making his concern evident. “The dictate is to expose you for questioning. I won’t do that. I don’t believe Salvatore will let you live. This is an option…” He gestured with the knife. “It will cause only minor discomfort. It just looks barbaric, though it’s not really painful. The crystal excises memories and retains them. I can return it with enough proof to hopefully keep them from pursuing you.”
She drew in a slow calculated breath. This option wouldn’t work for either of them. “My memories are important—of you, of what I’ve learned. I need those memories.”
He shook his head, discounting her words. “It is only a matter of time before the others find you.”
“You condone this?”
Jaw clenched, he turned from her. One hand still gripped the crystal, and the other palmed the back of his neck. “I don’t have the resources in place to convince the council to turn aside Salvatore’s dictate. We—I have gone against many of the rules.” The muscles of his shoulders bunched with tension beneath the dark cotton tee. He swung back, his hands fisted in frustration. “Time is short, and I insist on your survival.”
She gave a brisk nod at his summation. Not one of concurrence, but she wanted him to know she was at least taking him seriously. “And what specifically am I being accused of by the council? No, by Salvatore?” His thumb slid along the flat section of the blade and she watched, unable to draw away.
“Your awareness of our people alone flags you for constant monitoring. Your ability to contact them, maneuver them to the park, and bring Xavier into play also. The attack on Grimm is Salvatore’s hardest point of contention.”
A name finally connected her act to the victim of her crime and her chest tightened in response. But there was a strange undercurrent in Turen’s words. “You think there’s more to it?”
He gritted his teeth as if biting back some comment. “You should let this go. I know you want to help me. You were very lucky in freeing me from Xavier’s compound, though it was incredibly foolhardy. You could have been killed. Did you truly think I would condone your risk? Do you think I would ever trade your life for mine?”
Control was missing from his delivery, and while his face remained tense, pain radiated from him in waves.
“I’m sorry I hurt Grimm.” The irony of the man’s name wasn’t lost on her. “I waited to call on Xavier until the others, your people, could be there so you had backup to get home. I had no idea he would demand…” She winced at the memory of the sword sliding into the man’s flesh, the sensation so fresh. Yet it was his refusal to save himself that replayed in her mind. He’d embraced her attack, and she couldn’t reason through the action. She couldn’t shake it.
“I just didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. There’d been no recrimination in Turen’s tone, but she still couldn’t bear to see the look of condemnation she knew must be there.
“I didn’t judge you, not then, not now. I understand more than anyone does the fine line you walked. And trust me, I understand I placed you in that position. Grimm is fine.” The last softly spoken words warmed her heart, but they didn’t release the sickness of her memory.
She forced back the tears that threatened, not wanting his pity. “If I’d done nothing, I think Xavier would have left with you. But Grimm”—she stumbled over the name—“even restrained, he let me strike.” Not doing a good job at hiding the shake in her voice, she glanced up at him. Exhaustion laced the fine lines on his face, but compassion lit his eyes, not recrimination.
“Grimm completely downplayed your actions.” He paused and opened his mouth to say more but shook his head. “He is in no position to help either. Your response was intelligent and quick, your techniques precise, even with a sword of such weight. Xavier is volatile to deal with, but you didn’t hesitate and waded through a tough situation.”
He gave a weak smile, coupled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Where most would recognize courage, Salvatore sees a threat. I know you pose none, but my word will be suspect as your
advocate once others know of our relationship. My bias will be obvious.”
The last comment seemed an afterthought, so normal it should have slipped right by, the implication that their relationship wasn’t finished. Or was that another leap of her hopes?
“I’m not worthy of what you have done for me, my beautiful warrior. I will not repay all your efforts by aiding in your death.” Motioning with the crystal knife, he moved closer. “I offered this option as a way to free you, to remove you from retaliation. I would never force you. You’ve been my sanity, my hope, and my lifeline. There is no honor in the betrayal of a person I care for so deeply.”
Care for. She couldn’t swallow over the tight knot in her chest. She wasn’t risking everything for his concern.
He placed the crystal knife gently on the surface of the nearby table. “The harder recourse is that we hide and keep ahead of the others Salvatore will send.” He stared at her for a second, perhaps measuring her response. “They will find us, eventually, but we aren’t without our own resources. We don’t need to live life constantly on the run.”
We. Us. The knot loosened but doubt flared, needing a cleansing with words he hadn’t spoken. Another damn personal weakness forged by her ex. Words meant so little when spoken by men who’d said they loved her, yet, for the first time in her life, she desperately needed to hear those words. “What are you saying?”
Turning back to the table, he started first one, then the second metronome, continuing to pull each of the jimmied rigs from the clock mechanisms around the room. The ticking grew deafening in contrast to the earlier silence. He spun slowly as his brows lifted and he gave a soft laugh. “Very clever. These past weeks I struggled between fear that something had happened to you and relief that if I couldn’t find you, no one else could either.”
Choosing a seat on the coffee table before her, he unclenched one of her hands and pulled it to the warmth between his. “I will not leave you alone. You’ve been my light when I expected a solitary journey in darkness. You’re a part of me I can’t deny, be it allowed by my people or not.” His thumb stroked over her cheekbone. “I will stand with you and protect you to the best of my ability.”
“But I’m human.” She whispered the words, a dare.
He smiled wryly as his hand slid through her hairline to cup the back of her neck. “I’ve noticed. It’s part of your charm.”
She waited, holding her breath. His commitment was honorable, but she didn’t want his honor. She wanted his heart, and she didn’t want his heart at the expense of his soul. “What of your loyalty to your people? What of all those souls tied to you?”
“I don’t believe protecting you poses a risk to my people or our covenant. If it is true, then we are so far off the course of our mission we are irrevocably lost.” His hand squeezed hers over the comforter. “The only soul I’m worried about saving is yours.”
Their fingers entwined but she pressed on. “And when they send your brethren after you?”
Eyes closed for a moment, he shook his head. The gaze he gave her remained gentle but certain. “I wouldn’t turn my back on any of them in need. My true friends will give me the benefit of the doubt. If not, then I lose nothing.”
“Yet choosing to help me over following them or perhaps your mate…” The last words forced their way with less conviction than she intended.
Turen’s expression grew somber, though his hold on her never faltered. “I’ve spent many long hours considering the debate, and I’m weary of it. This is what’s right for me. The only person who holds my attention and concern is you, Mia. Fear for you wraps my heart in a vise so tight I can’t breathe, yet memories of you console me even in my worst moments. God help me if I have a mate out there, because you hold all the love I possess to give.” He smiled at her. “I need to know if this is what you wish.”
She blinked back tears at his declaration. A nod was all she could give, as her own words constricted inside her chest.
“I choose to make my stand at your side, for my heart and my conscience can abide with no other decision. You own me, love.” He traced his fingers across her lips.
Waiting for her response, he raised her hand and kissed it. Mia could only smile at him, tears tracking down her cheeks, fear nagging. Not the paralyzing fear she had known when Xavier’s creature gnashed its teeth and tail at Turen’s jail cell. This fear was deeper, fear of disappointing this man who said in every action how much he trusted and cherished her.
He brushed her tears with his fingertips and pressed his lips in feather-light kisses across her cheek until his lips met hers to seal his vow.
Moving to kneel on the rug at her feet, he pulled her to him, his lips warm and teasing as they nibbled across hers. The familiar ache of desire stirred in her body. It had been almost three long months since she’d touched him, since the solid, muscled hardness of his body had pressed against hers. So many long nights she’d lain awake with only the memories of his words and his touch to hold back her fears and longing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clung as his arms circled her back and pressed her to him, the comforter’s bulk wedging them apart.
With a chuckle, he leaned back. “Too many layers. At least I can see your beautiful eyes and your smile. If you would but smile for me.” His thumb stroked the edge of her mouth to entice the corners of her lips to rise.
A watery smile was the best she could do. Her heart was so full and her chest so tight she was afraid she would explode.
He unwound the bulk and twists from around her body and pushed the comforter aside in a rush. Her fingers slid through his hair as she pressed a kiss to his familiar cheek, reveling in the rough, warm texture of his skin and the bristle of his jaw. His broad palms covered her in heat, ridding the chill. They slipped beneath her shirt as his mouth angled to capture hers. Trails of fire licked along her skin from his fingers, his thumbs brushing at the sides of her breasts as he held her close. One hand slid to her waist and froze.
From beneath her lashes, she watched a frown crease between his brows before he eased away. He stared at her body as his hand swept over the flesh of her belly under her shirt. Fingers spread, he traced across her thick middle, gently hovering over the melon-size mound that pressed out the elastic waistband of her pants. Shock and wonder worked across his features. His fingers shook as they slipped the buttons of her shirt free and moved the fabric away from her body.
Wordless, he searched her face for confirmation of a reality his years of training and rules wouldn’t have prepared him to process. Mia was grateful she’d had only a few months of instruction to relearn instead of the decades ingrained in Turen’s background.
“Mia.” With a strangled sound, he looked into her eyes. A bright hopeful gleam sparked as she gave him the smile he’d sought moments before.
Gently wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her neck, the tremble of his fingers on her skin the only indication of his lack of emotional control. “Thank God.”
***
Turen felt Mia caress his face and the brush of her cheek against his. The actions should have grounded him. Yet even with his hand covering their child, he was uncertain if this was a dream. He desperately needed it not to be another dream.
Consequences snaked through his thoughts on the heels of joy. His mind wrestled with the tangible memento of Xavier’s dungeons, and a cold grip of terror clenched his gut as he realized she’d been pregnant the whole time she’d battled in the park.
In reaction to his tightened grip, he forced his fingers to relax. He hadn’t reconciled himself with almost losing the woman he loved. Now with the thought of the risk to her carrying their child as well he just might be sick. “All that time.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his cheek while her hand attempted to ease him. “I couldn’t keep my promise to sit back and do nothing. You would have died in that prison.”
Her shiver vibrated beneath his hands and he wrapped her tighter in his embrace
.
“I went to the doctor afterward—had a checkup—the baby was fine.”
At the guilt in her voice, he frowned and angled her face so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “It’s you I fear for, not our child. I will love him more than life, but I can’t lose you. Your pregnancy increased your risk.”
Cupping his jaw with her hands, she gave him a stronger smile. “You trained me, and you distracted Rasheer so I could get away. I’m right where I should be.”
He bent to capture her lips, but she turned, their faces a breath apart, her lips a tease from his. “This doesn’t give you license to treat me like a piece of china.”
“Don’t hold back.” With a laugh, he finally caught her lips, seeking the sweet honey of her taste, his warrior, his mate. Having her locked in his embrace barely assuaged his fear with the reassurance that she was whole in his arms. He restrained himself long enough to let her breathe, but couldn’t stop touching her. His lips to her temple, he distracted himself with the gentle rhythm of her breath.
“I was afraid there might be some differences with the baby. I haven’t gone back to the doctor after the first visit.” She shifted against him and burrowed closer.
The low, soft catch of worry in her voice twisted his heart. He covered her belly with his palm. “Our son has a strong heartbeat. He’s content inside you, love, healthy and active. I can hear his heartbeat and sense his moods, as I can his mother’s.” With the tiny movements beneath his palm and the ripple of sensation, he broke into a wide grin. “Very active.”
Tension eased into her expression, but a tinge of fear stayed in fine lines at the corner of her mouth. “I haven’t been able to find any medical details about the births in the Archive journals.”
His mouth dropped open, though he snapped it shut at the distress on her face. “You have been busy. You truly have access?”