Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Her observation hit hard, snapping his head up, eyes wide with shock and fear. Even his mouth fell open and he closed it with a swallow. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he appeared defeated.

  Elizabeth grimaced. She had not wanted to do this to him. It was then that she clued in. No longer aloof and emotionally unreachable, Elizabeth found she could read him as clearly as any book. She did not consider herself empathic but with him his emotions were written plainly across his face and body. It suddenly made sense why he always appeared closed off. It was another way to keep people out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, realizing that she was banging on the thick walls he had erected.

  “No, you’re right,” he whispered, dropping his hand to his lap.

  His admission surprised her. Most would flee from her trebuchet personality. That was why she had only a handful of good friends. Could it be that he was not running when he, more than anyone she had ever known, had reason to rebuke her?

  “You still haven’t answered my question, Doct – Elizabeth,” he sighed. He dropped his gaze with a grimace, clearly uncomfortable with the use of her given name.

  Taken with his pronunciation of her name, his accent rolling it into something more, Elizabeth shook her head when she realized she could not recall his question.

  A perturbed frown tugged at his full pale lips and he met her blue eyes. “What do you want?”

  The question took her aback. “You were having a nightmare and I wanted to see if you were alright.”

  “Oh,” he replied, discomforted by her answer.

  “Are you okay?” She studied his youthful face as he frowned, wishing she could smooth such unhappiness away with the touch of her hand, but she kept her fingers entwined on her lap. It was clear he was not alright. Drawn by her desire to help, Elizabeth said, “You can talk to me, Gwyn. Whatever you tell me will be just between us.”

  His breath caught and sadness seeped into his eyes. His pain drew her closer and she did what she had unsuccessfully tried not to do, she caressed the side of his face, surprised at his smooth soft features. He raised his hand to capture hers and Elizabeth moved upward on the bed until she was right in front of him, their thighs touching.

  Heart pounding with his touch, she followed his gaze as he lowered their hands to his lap. An unbidden thought blossomed about what lay directly under the covers, sending her heart racing to warm centres of her body that had not been kindled in a long while. Try as she might, she was desperately attracted this younger man.

  “I appreciate your offer,” he said quietly, still holding her hand. “I wish I could …” He shook his head and sighed in resignation, his long hair tickling the back of her hand. Meeting her eyes once more, he let go of her hand. “You have been so kind to me.”

  Elizabeth froze, waiting for the “but” to tie his statement to something less pleasant, but when none was forthcoming she relaxed. “Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.”

  “I don’t understand.” His voice was filled with quiet misery.

  “Understand what?” she pressed, concern tingeing her tones.

  “Why you are so nice to me. You’re Paul’s friend.”

  She noticed the slight stutter as he mentioned her co-work and she frowned. “I’m you’re friend too.” She rested her hand on his muscular thigh, the covers soft beneath her fingers. “How many times did you bring me coffee, without being requested, when you visited Paul and I as we worked late at night to ensure the exhibit would be ready to open on time? When my car was in the shop, without me needing to ask, you drove me home, every night for a week, on that infernal machine of yours.” Elizabeth was rewarded with a subtle rising of his full pale lips. It was the closest thing to a smile she had ever seen him attempt, and wondered how he would look if he truly smiled. “Of course I count you as a friend,” she continued. “How could I not? I had hoped that you would have counted me as one as well.”

  He was about to protest when she impulsively laid her fingers across his mouth, halting him before a sound was uttered. She was struck by their softness and her boldness, and before she could repress the urge, she replaced her fingers with her lips.

  His lips were softer than she expected. At first he did not return the kiss but as she pressed up against him, she felt him return the kiss. She opened her mouth in anticipation of his taste, her tongue running between his lips, seeking entrance.

  Abruptly she was pushed away, his hands on her upper arms, holding her steady. The last cloud dissipated and the full moon’s brilliance illuminated his pale physique. It was all she could do not to gasp at his pale beauty. Her rapid breath kept time with his and she could make out the mixture of fear and desire on his face. The idea that he was a virgin was dashed to the rocks as Elizabeth could not imagine someone so enticing to be chaste, especially not after that kiss. Yet confusion and fear pinched his brow.

  “No strings,” she smiled, hoping to assuage his concerns, and her own.

  This is what she wanted, what she had craved since she first saw him walk down the ramp at the airport. Never had she offered this to a man. It was unlike her. Even in her university days there were no such thing as a one night stand because she was already married and a mother. Even when Rudy left her, Elizabeth only gave herself when a relationship was solid, and that was very rare. But with this beautiful man before her, his pain written with the ink of his scars and the sadness in his face, Elizabeth cast her inhibitions to the wind.

  Leaning in, she kissed him again, slowly, gently, her heart racing in her ears. This time he yielded to her penetration and as their tongues caressed tension between them snapped. Suddenly, it was his tongue that thrust into her, tasting her.

  Elizabeth was barely aware of anything except the heavy pressure of his lips as he sucked and pulled at hers, trying desperately to consume her as she tried to do the same to him. He tasted so good, their mouths finding one another over and over, greedily attacking one another and she wanted more, much more. The burning deep in her belly screamed out to be filled.

  Hands, both hers and his, tore away her robe in desperate need. A gasp escaped as he trailed bruising kisses down her neck to suckle on her pulse. A groan of frustration vibrated against her skin before he found her mouth once more. This time she met his violent passion with her own. Grabbing his hair, she yanked his head back to deliver unto him what he had done to her, but stopped at the ferocity of his glare.

  “Don’t ever grab my hair again,” he growled.

  A tremor of fear fluttered through her, merging with the heated desire the press of his body created. Mutely, she nodded and let go, remembering his scars.

  His hands came up and brushed her cheeks, pulling back her short dark locks before kissing her again. Sighing at the rough treatment, Elizabeth was vaguely aware of being lowered to her back, his smooth flesh against hers, as he left her mouth to encapsulate her nipple with his mouth. Sharp teeth scraped against the sensitive skin blossoming moist warmth between her legs. He sucked and flicked his tongue, teasing her to cry out for more.

  Lifting his head back to her face, his hair a silver curtain around them, she kissed him again, penetrating and being penetrated, all the while keenly aware of the solid throbbing length that pressed against her thigh. Reaching down she grabbed his thick shaft, its length jumping at her touch. A groan escaped him as she caressed his smooth hardness.

  It was not enough. Elizabeth needed to feel him deep within her. “Now,” she gasped between their kisses.

  Pulling back, with her hand guiding him, he slid into her. He was larger than her touch had informed her and he slammed into her, causing her to cry out.

  Lifting her hips, she met him again. It was then she realized she lay on her shoulders, her hips lifted off the bed as he stood on his knees. His soft hair brushed against her legs as she entwined them around his slender waist. He thrust deeper, the new angle caressing her before pounding against her inner gates. The exquisite pain filled pleasure arched her back, tilt
ing her hips with each intrusion.

  Elizabeth watched him above her. Fantasy overlaid reality. Moonbeams invoked ethereal silver, causing her to gasp. Above her, within her, through her, this beautiful young man towered above like a Celtic god from her mythology books and she shuddered at the image, closing her eyes as he filled her again.

  His long fingers dug into her hips as he held her to him and she felt herself tightening around his shaft. Spurred on, their pace quickened. With one hand gripping the edge of the bed behind her head Elizabeth ran her other hand over her breast, tweaking and pulling at the swollen nub. He thrust harder and she cried out.

  Faster he pounded into her until the tension rolled her in convulsing waves. Within her depths she felt his pulsating release as her orgasm pulled at his, their cries mingling in their unified release.

  After forever he sat back on his heels, maintaining his connection with her. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth could see the shimmer of sweat upon his skin making him glow in the moonlight, his breath coming in gasps. Surprised wonderment modeled his features. His long hair stuck to his face and body. With a shudder that she felt deep within her, Elizabeth watched him close his eyes as he folded to lay his head upon her chest. His arms slid up the sides of her torso in an embrace. Languidly she encircled him with one arm while her other played with his baby soft hair. Still deep within her, Elizabeth could feel his passion leave and wondered how much encouragement he would need to harden him for another go.

  “I never knew it was supposed to be like this,” he whispered against her breast.

  Elizabeth halted her stroking of his silken strands, unnerved by his admission. Virgin he was not, but his statement sent a flurry of speculation as to what else he might have endured along with those scars.

  Wetness trailed around her breast.

  “Shhh,” she susurrated, resuming her caresses.

  Chapter XXIII

  “I take it that Dr. Thompson is safely home.” Thanatos sat in his high backed leather chair staring at the blazing fire in the hearth, the logs red and glowing as they were consumed.

  “Yes, sir,” came the reply from the blond major-domo who stood by the door.

  “And he has no memory of our conversation?” Thanatos frowned.

  “Only that he enjoyed meeting you and discussing the aspects of medicine that lead from his speciality to yours,” explained Godfrey, his hard face clear of emotion. “Dr. Thompson was quiet elated at having made your acquaintance.”

  “You are sure he remembers nothing of the true aspects of our conversation?”

  “I am sure, sir.”

  “Thank you, Godfrey.”

  The blonde man turned to leave.

  “One more thing, Godfrey.”

  Godfrey halted at the door and turned back to face his hidden employer.

  “I’d like you to track down the Angel. It seems he has been misplaced. Find out if he is staying with Paul Notus or if the lady who picked him up from the hospital has him.” Thanatos absently turned the silver phial that hung from the chain around his neck. “Let me know immediately what you find out.”

  “You wish me to wake you, sir?” Godfrey raised a brow.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Godfrey turned towards the exit, baffled at the request.

  “Thank you Godfrey. You are dismissed for the rest of the night.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied the manservant as he strode out of the room.

  Thanatos frowned, his fingers plying the pendant. If what he had managed to get out of Dr. Thompson was true then every hope Thanatos had could be swept away. It had not been easy to untangle the carefully constructed glamour Notus had placed upon the good doctor, but once unravelled and the man’s mind was pushed to remember, details that may have seemed insignificant became a glaring reality.

  Once the ill gotten memories were gained, Thanatos craftily spun a new web tighter than Notus could have ever done. Dr. Thompson would have no memory of having met, let alone treated, the Angel and his Chooser. Thanatos’ frown turned into a grimace with the addendum of the knowledge that the Angel was no longer Chosen. After centuries of watching and waiting, Thanatos was unsure if the opportunity he had sought was now past or forthcoming.

  Releasing the silver phial to rest against his chest, he stood and walked to the fireplace. He tossed another split long onto the fire, sending crackling sparks to fly up the flue and he crouched to watch the dancing colours of gold, crimson and amber. Occasionally blue the colour of the daylight sky would kiss the other colours before disappearing in a brilliance of white. All the while the black of the wood was consumed by hungry heat in sun yellow.

  He sighed, his breath stirring the flames. If only he knew what to do. Should he finally approach the Angel and talk with him about what he knew? Would he agree to help him attain his desire? Or more to the point – could he? Variables upon variables swirled into his mind, all leading to the question that held him prisoner since he found out about the Angel – could the Angel be the one to lift Thanatos’ curse and restore the Chosen to what they once were?

  Another thought crept into his mind. Scrubbing his face with his hands he stood. Closing his eyes before opening them with a sigh, Thanatos prayed that Corvus would follow his orders to leave the Angel alone. He did not want to contemplate what would happen if Corvus found out that the Angel was no longer Chosen. He also did not want to consider what he would have to do to the Vampires if they did something to the Angel.

  Sitting back down in his chair, Thanatos watched the flames and waited for dawn.

  On the rooftop of the condominium he had once shared with the boy, Notus sat with his legs dangling over the building’s edge. He watched the lights below as tears streamed down his face.

  The phone rang again in the condo until the answering machine picked up. “Paul. It’s Bridget… Fernando and I are in town... Paul?...Are you there?...Paul, where’s the Angel?”

  Chapter XXIV

  A scent, enticing rumbling from his stomach, pulled him from the depths of sleep. Eyes fluttering open, he instantly shut them against the bright daylight that poured into the guestroom. Panic caught him and he swept the covers over his head. It took a moment before he realized that his flesh had not ignited and he groaned, remembering the horrible truth that he was now mortal. The millennia born instinct to flee the light continued to grip him as he tentatively folded the bedclothes away from his head.

  Yesterday the muted daylight had sent his head pounding and his skin prickling. What washed across the room was pure unadulterated sunlight that set his head throbbing through pain filled tearing eyes. The only sensation missing was the burning of his skin. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to banish the nausea that came with the migraine and got off the bed, closing the distance to the offending window. It took a couple of tries and the drapes were set free, plunging the room into relative darkness.

  On shaking legs he sat back down on the bed, his head resting in hands supported by elbows on knees. Mortal or no, he still maintained sensitivity to the sun that had been beaten into him as a small boy. Releasing a shuddering breath he waited for the agony and nausea to dissipate.

  Too much too soon. His existence was changing too fast for him to keep up. No longer Chosen, he had pinned his hopes on Notus Choosing him again so that their lives would continue on together. A tiny part of him should have known Notus would turn him down. To be rejected, to be called an accident – that was not what he expected. His breath caught in a constrained sob and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill.

  Pushing down the dejection that attempted to overwhelm him, he heaved a great sigh and sat straight, his hair falling to drape against his naked back. With that touch his eyes widened as the memory of what occurred between he and Dr. – no, Elizabeth – swelled to the forefront.

  Oh my Gods, he thought, rubbing his face. Never had he imagined that he and Elizabeth would become intimate. Lowering his head he closed
his eyes as the memories flooded back. He could not remember the nightmare Elizabeth saved him from. All he could recall was feeling vulnerable as her concern evolved into desire. He had seen that look on countless women, and men, in his earlier years, but this time it was coupled with the need to comfort.

  The first kiss surprised him. Bridget had kissed him like that at Christmas and he had pushed her away not wanting to ruin the tenuous friendship he had with Fernando, but when Elizabeth told him there would be no strings something within snapped. He needed the touch, to be needed in return, anything to fill the incredible loneliness that clawed at him.

  It was when he found her throat with his mouth that it hit him that there was no desire to pierce her flesh with his teeth and drink her blood. Instead he needed to devour her and in turn to be consumed. It was all he could do to constrain himself.

  All was a blur of mouths sucking at each other until he felt her hand guide him. It was all he could do not to shudder his release before he entered her. Warm, moist flesh held him tight and even as he reached the ends of her depths he wanted to press further. Never as Chosen had sex felt this way, so centred upon his need to be taken within another, the encapsulating tenderness that stroked him as he pounded into her, taking all of his attention. There was no blood scent spiced with lust that teased him to drink. There was no strict control not to rend and tear flesh to reach that blessed font. Now it was all about surrounding him, pulling at him to drive deeper until her embrace threatened to never let him go and that intense pulsating release matched only by hers, sucking him further into her depths until he could go no further. He never knew it was supposed to be like that.

  It should have been like that.

  It should have been like that with Jeanie.

  Releasing a shuddering sigh, he swept his long white hair back and attempted to remember he was in the twenty-first century, not the late Victorian Age. What he had with Jeanie was something he never had with another and a part of him would always mourn her. Now he was a guest in Elizabeth’s home, and though she stated there would be no repercussions to their lovemaking, he could not deny the impact the act had wielded upon him.