Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars)

by Claire Ashgrove

  He’d never been less than gentle, even at his maddest moments. And that gentleness haunted her. The images that rose each time she looked at the bed where they’d last slept tormented more than Declan’s statement. They had driven her to rest on the couch—sleep had been out of the question.

  She loved a man who didn’t want her for anything but physical pleasure. And some misbegotten oath. Why that surprised her, she couldn’t really explain. All her life she’d faced rejection. It wouldn’t be the first time she cared about someone for no good reason.

  But it bothered her she couldn’t absolutely convince herself that Farran saw her only as a plaything. Each time she tried, each time she let the suspicion creep in, a little voice cried out in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly go to such lengths to comfort her if he felt nothing.

  The oath plagued her even more. As incredible as the claim sounded, if it could save his life, she’d caused his injuries. If she’d taken it sooner, maybe he wouldn’t be bloodied to a pulp. Then again, he’d said even with the oath a Templar blade could wound. Hadn’t he? How could that be possible? And if it were also true, her silence hadn’t done anything a simple fight wouldn’t.

  Regardless, she wouldn’t pledge herself to someone for eternity if he wasn’t willing to make the same sacrifice. He wanted her loyalty—demanded it. She had every right to expect the same. Only the very weakest of women would accept anything less—and while she had insecurities, she still had self-respect.

  No, she’d pledge herself in spirit, but she would not utter a simple syllable of that coveted phrase until Farran dropped to his knee and yielded his sword. If he couldn’t come to trust her, to believe in her, his fate was his. After all, she’d come this far. Changed her very foundation and the principles she understood. He could find it within himself to give up a little of his pride.

  A rattle at the door brought her pacing to a halt. She looked up at the same time she lowered Scat Cat to the ground. When Farran stumbled through, her heart forgot how to beat. All the anger, all her hurt, vanished as time stood still and his tawny eyes held hers. Her legs itched to run, to fly across the distance separating them. Her arms longed to wind around his neck. He was alive. Walking. Standing in her room.

  “I’ve come for my clothes.” He nodded at the jeans heaped at the foot of the bed.

  Just like that, he crushed her budding hope into pieces. “Oh.” She turned her back to him, her eyes closed to the tumult of shattered feeling. On a hard swallow, she bit back a threatening sob and returned to her perch at the window. He could leave if he wanted to, but not without the fight he’d long deserved. He’d brought her here. Forced her to change. Forced her to love. He wasn’t walking out under her silence.

  “So you blame me.”

  He moved behind her, his presence so enormous it shadowed over her and turned her skin to gooseflesh. The quiet grunt that escaped him as he bent for his clothes twisted her heart. His scent, that heady aroma of woods and citrus, enveloped her. And deep inside a longing for the beauty they had shared not so very long ago stirred.

  When his footsteps retreated without answer, she turned to scowl at his back. “Are you such a coward you can’t accuse me as you want to? You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me you’re walking out because I put you in danger?”

  The taunt had the desired effect. He whipped around so fast his hair pelted the side of his neck. His glower made her pulse skip. But his subsequent wince and the press of his hand to his ribs spoiled the seeds of fear. She lifted her chin in defiance, silently daring him to speak.

  When his pain had eased, his gaze narrowed. Through clenched teeth, he answered, “No more a coward than the damsel who cannot stand the sight of her knight’s blood.”

  “What?” Disbelief cracked her voice. She stomped across the room to stand in the doorway that separated them. “I’m not a coward, Farran. That I’m still here is proof to that!”

  His eyes burned hot, full of all the fury that boiled in her veins. “Do not feed me lies. That you have no way to return to your beloved Washington is proof to that, damsel.”

  It took effort to keep his voice under control, to stop the bellow she knew rumbled in his chest. Yet she felt no need to show the same temperance. She gave her anger freedom and reveled in the surge of it. “No. Open your eyes, Farran. There’s at least a dozen cars parked in that lot. I could have run when you slept.” She flung her arm to the dresser, indicating a simple keychain near her hairbrush. “You left those behind. I could have left whenever I wanted. But I stayed. For you. Don’t you dare accuse me of cowardice.”

  * * *

  The overwhelming urge to draw Noelle into his arms and crush her so close she would feel the pounding of his heart made Farran’s hands curl. Against his will, his gaze dropped to the keys she referenced. The force that punched him in the gut equaled the throb of his sewn flesh. Saints’ blood, he wanted to believe her. But that she had not once asked about him, had not even seen fit to come to the infirmary, made Declan’s claim bellow that much louder. He had almost convinced himself the Scot spoke false. But Noelle’s continued absence said more than words.

  As he watched the furious rise and fall of her breasts, he fought the protective instinct to slam the door between them and forget what she made him feel. He had blocked himself so many times that doing anything else felt foreign. However, the challenge in her fawnlike eyes provoked the warrior. The man who was not afraid to risk the condemnation of his kin and stand up for what he believed in. He had accepted the brand of traitor. He would never accept coward.

  “Yet you saw fit to stay closeted in your room?”

  “I did no such thing!”

  He could not help but snort. “I slept much, but I assure you I would have known if you sat by my bed.”

  Noelle stalked up to him, her pretty face stained with crimson color. “First, Anne dragged me up here. Second, when I snuck out the first time while she took a bath, Declan ran me off.” She punctuated each ticked-off item with a stab of her finger to his chest. “Third, I haven’t been able to leave because everybody around here seems to think you’re going to kill me.”

  At the last, he groaned aloud. ’Twas the same reason Caradoc now stood beyond the door awaiting his exit. He had tried, with little success, to explain he felt the darkness but wrestled it under control. Still his brothers surrounded him like hornets.

  She jabbed him once again. “You want to explain that? Or do you want to run off and hide?”

  Choosing neither, he slid his hands around her waist. Her body yielded the fight. Soft curves molded into him like down. Her warmth seeped beyond his skin to melt the chips of ice around his heart. He dug his fingers into her silken hair and held on as if her very nearness could carry him to a place far from here. A time before he had known the vileness of immortality.

  “Jesu, Noelle, what have you done to me? I cannot think straight anymore.” He buried his face into her shoulder and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Declan told me you did not wish to see me.”

  She clung to him, her body trembling with tears she did not shed but hoarsened her voice. “He told me the same.” Fervently she twisted in search of his mouth. “I thought you hated me. That you blamed me for your injury.”

  “Nay,” he whispered against her seeking lips. I love you. As he released the thought, he allowed her sweet flavor to consume him. Their tongues twined, hungry and full of unspoken need. Under the assuage of her mouth, he felt not the pain from his stitches. All he knew was bliss. An ecstasy he did not deserve, but one he would die without.

  Aye, he loved her. He would fall upon his own blade to protect her. He would tell her now, in the only way he understood. But tonight, when the temple was at rest and he took her once again into his arms, he would tell her with his voice. He would kneel, set his sword at her feet, and they would never suffer the doubt of one another again.

  He broke the kiss to look deep into her impassioned eyes. All the confirmation he needed reflect
ed back at him. She bared herself completely—how he could have ever doubted her innocent spirit he could not fathom. She trusted. She loved.

  Farran stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I have missed the feel of your body against mine.”

  Her shy smile touched him. “I have too.”

  “You will have to help me. My wounds…”

  One hand drifted to the sensitive flesh covering his ribs. When gentle fingers spread over Uriel’s meticulous stitches, the same warmth he had recalled ebbed through his body. “I will take care of you, Farran,” she murmured as she bent to mend the wound with a soft kiss.

  * * *

  Noelle led Farran by the hand. Her heart soared with hope, pride, and above all else, love. He’d wanted to see her. Expected her to come. And though she didn’t understand why his friend would tell her lies, she didn’t care.

  At the edge of the bed, she helped him to remove his clothing. Mindful of the great gash along the left side of his body, she eased his shirt free and dropped to her knees to tug down his jeans. His arousal sprung forth, begging for the caress of her hand. With the boldness he’d given her, she took him into her palm. As she rose, she scattered kisses over his stark white scars, across the wiry stitches. Her hand pumped steadily as she worked her way back to his mouth. When she landed there, he caught her in a savage kiss.

  She indulged, but only for a moment. With effort, she tore her mouth away. Eager for the feel of his naked skin against her body, she released him to rid herself of her own clothes. She shucked them without care, then stepped out of the jumbled heap. As she stepped back into his sheltering embrace, Farran lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress. Hands fastened at her hips, he drew her between his legs. Thick thighs trapped her into place. The wide head of his erection nestled in her feminine down, full of heat and promise. He cupped her breasts slowly, reverently, and teased pebbled nipples with his roughened thumbs.

  When he dipped his head and gently suckled, Noelle’s entire body flared hot with desire. She had found heaven, and he had brought her here. She curled her hands into his hair and pressed his head to her harder. The flick of his tongue, the subtle pull of his mouth, sent a frenzy for more humming through her blood. She arched her back, bent her knees to accept his swollen length a little more.

  He slid against her inner folds with such ease she nearly blushed. What he could do to her defied logic. She was like sculpting clay in his hands, waiting to be shaped. Molded. Transformed.

  “Oh, Farran,” she exhaled.

  His low groan vibrated through his lips to arc a shiver down her spine. One large hand slipped behind her bottom to tease through her damp curls. A thick finger slid along her nether lips to press against her opening, and Noelle’s body moved of its own accord. Her knees buckled, drawing his fingertip inside. At the same time, his rock-hard arousal pressed against her sensitive nub and sensation blistered through her. She whimpered at the shock of pleasure.

  In response, his shaft jumped against her flesh, and Farran drew in a sharp breath. He lifted his head, withdrew his hand, and cupped her chin to tip her mouth to his. His kiss held the lazy freedom of summer, full of the same suffocating heat. When she feared she’d never breathe again, he eased it to a close and his feral gaze locked with hers.

  Awkwardly, he reclined across the bed, drawing her with him. His wince betrayed the effort moving required, and Noelle automatically looked to his injury. A tiny drop of blood trickled from a pulled stitch, then rolled off his side to disappear beneath him. She pressed her fingertip to the rend and exhaled with disappointment. “You’re bleeding.”

  Undaunted, Farran guided her atop his lap. “I know.” His wicked smile made her want to laugh and scold at the same time. He had no business indulging like this. And she should have known better than to encourage him, no matter how badly she wanted him.

  “Farran,” she protested with a light laugh.

  He gripped her hips and lifted, easing her onto his hot, hard flesh. She sucked in a deep breath. He felt so good. So perfect. So …

  With one firm push, he slid within her slick sheath, and Noelle let out a gasp. His grin deepened, tugging to life a dimple she hadn’t noticed before. “Would you like me to stop, damsel?”

  “No,” she said as she rotated her hips to accommodate his size. The tip of him pressed against the mouth of her womb, turning her body into molten wax. Captured by the sheer ecstasy of feeling Farran deep inside, she twisted her hips.

  Farran’s body bucked beneath her. His grin vanished, and the light in his eyes darkened with feral hunger. A thrill bubbled, coaxing her to repeat the motion once again. When she did, his hands dug into her hips, bracing her down as he thrust up hard. Their hoarse cries blended with the same perfection of their bodies.

  Nature taught Noelle what to do, how to move. She chased the sensation his body stirred and lifted in time with his slow, rhythmic thrusts. But as the heat they shared intensified, wild need demanded harder, faster. She braced her hands on his wide chest and let him take the lead.

  He did not disappoint.

  His body glided in and out of her like a piston. The brief glimpse of the erotic slide that she caught between her lowered lashes curled her nails into his tight pecs. She held on as Farran lifted her higher, and the swell of feeling built until it crashed upon her like a stormy tide upon a rocky reef. She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure slammed together.

  Farran joined her in release. His hips drove into her a final time, and his body convulsed. He dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of her bottom, and she felt the wash of his hot seed against her womb. As his hips gradually slowed, he drew her down against his chest and wrapped the arms she loved so dearly around her slight form.

  “Noelle,” he murmured against her hair, “a man could wage war for you.”

  CHAPTER 34

  As Farran’s breath gradually returned to normal, he pulled his fingers through Noelle’s long, thick hair. The slow motion of his hand helped to ease the pounding of his heart and restore his thoughts. Saints’ blood, she had uttered but three sentences, and he had melted like wax. The powerful effect she had on him disturbed him. Aye, he enjoyed this carefree feeling she aroused, the security of knowing she would not play him false. But the way she bared him open made him vulnerable to whatever she may wish.

  He had been fooled once by a maid’s tongue, and although he did not believe Noelle capable of such trickery, ’twould take time to rest at ease.

  She pushed up to her elbows and planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Why would Declan lie to us both?”

  He frowned at the remembrance of his brother’s deeds. In the warm languor of their lovemaking, he forgot to mind his words. “I do not know. But Declan’s soul has long suffered the darkness. The change has pressed on him longer than the rest of us. I suspect he does not know the trouble he creates.”

  The instant those tawny eyes clouded with confusion, Farran recognized his error. He grimaced at the questions he knew would come.

  “The what? What do you mean his soul’s suffered darkness?”

  “I do not want to tell you, Noelle.” The last thing he wanted to do was give her reason to fear him, especially now, when he planned to say his oath tonight.

  She would have none of his excuses. Rolling off his body, she sat up at his side. “I don’t care if you want to or not. I want to know.”

  Groaning aloud, Farran tossed an elbow over his eyes. If ever a man was doomed, ’twas surely him. “Can this not wait?”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “Aye, then.” He let out a heavy sigh and dropped his arm to the mattress. He stared at the ceiling, unable to bear witness to the condemnation he would cause. “The curse I told you of. ’Twas not just immortality Gabriel gave us. Nay, ’twould be too easy to live forever. He gave our souls a taint. A piece of Azazel’s darkness that festers as we age.”

  Sensing he had not told her everything, Noelle pressed, “And?”

  He glanc
ed at her, then quickly looked away. The last of his explanation came out in a rush. “Each time I kill Azazel’s creatures, it grows. In time, I shall become a knight under his service. An evil being.” He rose to sit, grimacing with the effort.

  She scrambled after him. Her fingers cut into his shoulder, and she pulled him around to meet her accusing glare.

  “This is why everyone’s been saying you’ll kill me?”

  “I am not going to kill you, Noelle. ’Tis a preposterous claim. But aye, ’tis what they believe.”

  She stubbornly folded her arms across her breasts. “If it’s so preposterous, why does everyone think it?”

  God’s teeth, she would not relent until he told her all of it. He expelled a hard breath and frowned. After a moment’s pause, he swiveled to catch her hands in his. The answer would not sit well. If she chose to run, he intended to stop her flight. He chose his words with care. “Anne believes she has seen your death. She claims ’twill come at the hands of a dark knight—the creature we are all capable of becoming. Because she says you are unafraid, they have assumed ’tis me.”

  She drew back, but shock did not fill her features as he had expected. Instead, anger glittered behind her eyes. His frown deepened with confusion. He had told her of her death—why did she seem unconcerned?

  “So it is possible. You kept this from me. Why?” Sharp and brittle, her voice cracked through the room.

  Difficult—her name was woman. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Is it not obvious? I did not wish to scare you.”

  Consternation settled into her mouth, pursing rosy lips tight. ’Twas such a misplaced expression for such delicate features he could not help but chuckle. He cupped her cheek and leaned in closer to kiss that puckered mouth. “You are not angry?”

  With an indecipherable mutter, Noelle ducked out of his grasp and under his arm. She bent to his side, inspecting the stitches there. The tender probe of her fingertips made him shiver. But the sensation passed all too soon. She drew away and rolled her eyes. “You’re already healed where your stitch popped loose.”