“Kiss me,” he said.
“Kiss you?” I blinked, grasping his arms, and lifted him from the floor.
“Yeah, you have to kiss me while I cast the spell.”
I mouthed an “oh” and wound my fingers into his hair. Glowing purple hands cupped my face, and my heart rate increased. I trusted him not to harm me, but for the most part, magic wasn’t something I saw on the day-to-day.
“Don’t pull away until I let you, or the spell won’t hold,” he stroked a purple finger over my skin, “it won’t hurt.”
Soft lips brushed against mine, and my eyes closed. A warming sensation washed over my brain. As if a thousand fingers massaged me from the inside out, his magic caressed my skin. The sensation built within me. My cock twitched. He slid his thigh between my legs, and a groan ripped from my lips.
“Don’t pull away, sweets.”
I had no thoughts regarding pulling from his embrace. Instead, I had wanted to crawl deeper until we had fully connected. My body trembled, fighting the desire to grind against his thigh. From head to toe, the sensation further attacked me. Floating with my head under water. Each second passed and his voice grew clearer, thoughts and spoken words filtering in and out. How did he function with hundreds of voices at once?
“Don’t fight the feeling. Go with it,” he said.
Cain opened for me, massaging his tongue against mine. His breath caught, and I rocked my groin over his thigh. Surging heat boiled over and burned along my skin. My belly tightened, churning with tingling awareness.
I dropped my sweaty hand to his jeans and freed his hard cock. His tip sprung into my hand, wet with his excitement. Developing a rhythm with each thrust of my hands and hips, I stroked Cain. His breathing deepened in time with mine. I drew his tongue into my mouth and suckled. Each nerve within my body fired in a rushing volley and left me gasping.
Fighting against his body and mind, Cain’s body vibrated and struggled.
“Let go, babe.”
His shout died in my mouth. With the initial twitch of his cock, my cods erupted and we released together, gasping and struggling to hold on against the light blinding our eyes.
We coupled and we saw as one: no beginning and no end to our union of mind, body, and soul. I released his tongue, but didn’t end our kiss. Together, we shuddered, together, we had orgasmic bliss, and in some ways, we would never break apart. I loved him more for that last fact, for Cain alone had held the power to complete me.
“You can pull away if you want.”
“But I don’t want to.” I grasped his t-shirt and tugged him closer. How easily he made me forget the world.
Cain stumbled backward “Sweets, Angel is waiting for us.”
“So, let her wait a little longer.” I moved with him.
He rubbed his palm over the wet spot on my pants. “You’re a mess.”
“Your fault.” The front of my jeans had soaked up our evidence.
A knock sounded at our door and it slid open. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but all passengers must depart the train at once,” the elderly ticket master said.
Shielding his body, I tucked Cain away and re-zipped his jeans.
Our cheeks heated, and I forced my gaze straight ahead, instead of at the disarray we had made. My body sill tingled, but I doubted the cause was the after effects of his spell.
Cain winked. “I look good on you.”
We departed the train in Montreal, stopped in the station restrooms to tidy ourselves, grabbed food-like substance, and caught up with Korrigan.
She waited by the main entrance fountain. Old coins and tokens lined the bottom from before the Sundering, but nobody wished anymore. Yet there she stood, staring down at her reflection in the clear ice with a coin dancing between her slender fingers. The metal clinked against the frozen surface as she dropped the money and faced us. The smirk on her face spoke a thousand words, her gaze pausing on the wet spot of my jeans.
“Wouldn’t take you as the wishing type,” I said, and eyed her little balled fists. “Did you eat?”
Korrigan shook her head.
Cain offered his wrist, but she glanced at the fountain. What did she wish for?
He answered, “Petre.”
Cain’s mind stayed quiet with a few slipped thoughts here and there about our future and Lily. I wasn’t certain if this is how all minds worked, or if he was controlling it for my sake. I know only my own mind and the hundreds of thoughts that raced through my head were hard enough for me to follow. However, his didn’t seem to dwell on any singular thought.
We pushed through the crowded station and hit the blistery cold outdoors. Vendors lined the street and hawked their wares. I palmed my jacket for a cigarette. Pure habit, but I hadn’t worn my trench coat.
“I threw them out anyway.”
Korri asked, “Threw what out?”
“My smokes,” I muttered, stopping at a map vendor.
Cain fished out his wallet and paid a ridiculous sum for the paper map, but none of us knew where to head. All Korrigan recalled was they’d passed through Montreal, after a short layover to restock the train. Both distracted themselves by eyeing up various souvenirs, and I bought another pack of smokes, removing one and slipping the cigarettes into my jeans pocket.
I watched them smile and laugh at the various products, most leftover from the Sundering. Before Cain and Korri, tales of the Morning Star’s kin reached my ears. They weren’t like other demons, although, their father seemed to fit the bill. I lit a cigarette, and Cain’s nose curled at the smoke tendrils.
“Mother was a Morning Star,” he said aloud. “Most of the original families try to lead better lives than those who fell.”
Korri said, “That’s part of why I fell in love with Veric. He wanted a better life for all demons and their offspring. Boric didn’t agree.”
Chapter
Fourteen
Cain
Following the train tracks, Dorian, Korrigan, and I headed into the Arcadian wilds, past the outskirts of Montreal. Leaving the half-ruined city in our wake, we hiked into the thick forests and through knee-high snow banks. Strange how the snow didn’t pile any higher.
I hadn’t slept in three days, or complained, but even so, I had grown grumpier with each passing night. Half-frozen, every muscle ached, and on my feet, my blisters had blisters. White-painted evergreens and dormant oaks surrounded us. Un-showered male stench and acrid cigarette smoke wasn’t pleasant, either. Dorian would not give up his habit making each kiss taste like a stale ashtray.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to what appeared to be red bricks poking through the treetops. Finally something new.
Dorian smacked his cigarette pack against his palm and cocked his brow. “Looks like a house.”
Our feet tore through the snow toward the first sign of life.
Korrigan arrived first. “It’s empty.”
“We should stay the night,” Dorian said.
“But we’re close,” Korrigan whined. “I can feel it.”
The two bickered while I explored the outside. No tracks or pathways in the snow. A well, likely frozen, sat in front of the red brick farmhouse. A weathered barn rested a few hundred yards away, and the barren fields collected snow.
I peered in through the backdoor, but saw nothing. Snow crunched; Dorian paced behind me. My sister didn’t weigh enough to break the thick ice on the banks.
I removed my glove and touched the chilly knob. It opened, and I sneaked inside, leaving them to their petty dispute. Unlike them, my body required food, shelter, and rest.
“Hello?” I called into the dark house. Only my soft footsteps replied. The open kitchen housed a large hearth. Dried wood was stacked near the fireplace. Pots hung from a rack. With any luck, I’d have a hot meal to warm me from the inside out. Shivering, I knelt and prepared the kindling before willing my magic forth. Sparks jumped from my fingertips, igniting the wood.
Standing, I dusted my hands, not actually feeling the
m. I strolled to the pots and retrieved two large ones as Dorian framed the open door, smelling of burning ash.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
I handed him one the pots. “Where’d she go?”
“Exploring the perimeter to make sure it’s safe. What am I doing with this?” He held up the pot, smirking.
“Snow collection.”
We boiled the snow we’d gathered into steamy hot water for broth and collected more for bathing.
Upon further snooping in the barn, I found an old-fashioned wooden tub, but little else remained. Cobwebs littered its rounded corners, and I cleared them out, along with a thick layer of dust.
Whoever had lived there were likely human. They’d left belongings and valuables behind, but the elements had taken their toll on the structures and the unattended animals. Bones of horses and livestock rested in the deserted stalls. I sighed and whispered a silent prayer, though their souls were free. Slave life hadn’t been much different. Caged and starved, few survived it.
Smoke burned my nose. Dorian eyed me from the barn door, resting against its weathered frame, smoking another cigarette.
“I’ll quit when this shit is over, and you are safe.” He puffed and exhaled.
It hadn’t dawned on me before that his concerns were for me alone.
“I do care for the others, don’t get me wrong, babe. But—you come first.” He tossed his cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with his boot. “I’m going to explore inside. Don’t stay out too long.”
I shrugged and bent back to my work. Time passed, but I wasn’t sure how much. I scrubbed and scrubbed, the motion warming my muscles and causing me to sweat.
Footsteps shuffled along the dried hay and dirt floor. A glance spared over my shoulder revealed Dorian had changed into a button-down flannel and baggy jeans, almost fitting the part of a farmer. Grinning, I closed my eyes and imagined him walking behind a plow. A sexy farmer whose eyes alone exhilarated my heart rate into unchartered tempos, but a farmer nonetheless.
Palming his chest, Dorian’s thoughts flittered to the keys, but he’d still refused an explanation of their purpose. The nagging question rested on my tongue. Why eight keys, and why was Boric willing to torture and kill for them?
He didn’t answer, and I didn’t ask aloud. I stared at the tub and tossed a rag onto the dirt floor with a long sigh. The tub was as clean as it would be.
“Let me get that,” he offered.
Together we lugged the tub inside. More so him than me. It was too heavy for my half-breed self to carry alone. Pot by pot, we filled the sucker, stripped down, and slid beneath the water’s surface.
“Found a dried bar of soap by the kitchen sink,” he said, and handed me a tiny sliver, keeping one for himself.
I worked the bar into a lather and motioned for him to stand. “You’ve been quiet, more so than usual, sweets.”
He grasped the side of the tub and stood.
My soapy hands slid over his thighs, but Dorian didn’t answer in words. He didn’t think I wanted to hear his reply. I rose, working the suds over his body.
“Yeah, I do.” I grasped his arm and squeezed the thick bicep, staring deep into emerald eyes, but the words didn’t roll from his tongue. “No secrets,” I reminded.
“Lift your arms,” he said, rubbing the soap over my chest, back, and arms. “I have no secrets.”
I snorted and crossed my arms. “How do you have a key?” I pointed to Dorian’s chest where the two keys rested against his skin. “There are seven keys, yet you have an eighth.”
He sank into the tub, dunking his head beneath the dirty water. “All anyone ever cares about is my key. The others are meaningless without mine. Even my own blood refuses to listen and now Cain. Everyone thinks the keys unlock some great evil or give the owner power. Is this all Cain wants? Have I read him all wrong?”
I jumped from the tub, water splashing and sloshing to the floor and soap bubbles sliding along my body. I braced my arms on the mantle over the hearth. It wasn’t about the damned keys. Every secret I had, except one, I’d uncovered and shared with Dorian, thinking we could make this work.
Crud-covered photographs and knick-knacks lined the ledge in a neat row. Humanity had its perks, I grunted; at least they were all dead. Lifting a frame, I studied the photograph of a smiling, happy couple and their children. Their eyes reflected all I’d ever wanted as a child: love, joy, and acceptance. I glanced to Dorian. He eyed me from the tub’s edge, rolling his gaze along my exposed bits. His actions sickened me, and my hand rubbed over my stomach. My other hand shook, and I placed the picture frame back on the mantle. “You can shove the keys up your ass for all I care.”
My dirty clothes were soaked. I bounded upstairs and retrieved clothing from the closets. Musty from years of storage, but they were free of moth holes. A few days of perspiring and they would reek of man sweat anyhow. I pulled on the jeans, Henley-style T-shirt, and a flannel.
I stood before the mirror, and it reflected an image I didn’t recognize. A few days growth covered my winter-pale skin, and I rubbed the scruff, wishing the lighter colored facial hair away. Hell, I would‘ve wish my life away, but death wasn’t the answer, either. I loved Dorian, though. My eyes closed and a tear fell free, before they blinked open.
He stood, leaning against the doorway. Water pooled at his feet, and lazy drops dripped from his nude body. Wet hair framed his face, and thick pink lips parted.
Or was death the answer? Maybe God had made a mistake when I’d prayed. My hand itched to caress the fuller beard growing over Dorian’s angelic face. He stepped over the threshold and slammed the door. Windows rattled, and my throat dried. I inched backward, the hardwood floor protesting beneath my feet. A wall blocked my progress, and his hands thudded on either side of my head, pinning me in place.
“I told you not to run.”
My brows rose, and I shook my head. What was he talking about? “I got dressed. How is that running?”
Dorian’s fingers caressed my cheek and trailed own my neck. Gooseflesh erupted in shivers from his touch. Each button of my flannel popped free.
“Now, you’re getting undressed.”
“Distract me, huh? Can’t face the truth?” As I’d done so many times before.
My clothes fell and piled onto the floor, and Dorian kicked them away. He grasped my hands and restrained them overhead.
“Don’t do this.” My heart hammered hard enough its beat echoed in my ears. Wincing, I turned my head away and closed my eyes. Please God, I silently prayed, no.
He leaned in close to my ear as green eyes blazed to life. Face-hardened, he groaned. “Cerberus guards the Golem, and the keys control the creature. My key unlocks his prison. The keys won’t unleash Lucifer.”
“I don’t understand.” What harm or power could a Golem have?
“I have lied to my family, and anyone who has ever asked, including past lovers, but I will not lie to you, Cain.” He evaded the question. “Nor will I ever hurt you.” He shifted my wrists into one hand.
My forearms ached from flexing and shoving against him. Try as I might, he was too strong. “You accused me of only being with you for the keys.” I stared at the ugly floral wallpaper. No action or word could erase his thoughts of me in the tub. “I might lie, I might use my body as a distraction, but I don’t use people, Dorian. That’s why I wanted you off the fucking case.”
“It’s your continuous lies that put the doubt in my head in the first place.” He slammed his open palm against the wall. “The sex, the stalling, all of it…Damn it. Make me understand.” Dorian released me and stepped backward, hovering by the double-sized bed.
“Sweets.” I rubbed my wrists and shivered in the icy room. “Knowing what you know now, can you blame me for trying to protect myself from you? You, who swore off loving another, who lived only for his own pleasure? Your mind, which practically shouts, reminded me daily of how you could never love me. So yeah, I fucking lied to you, but it didn
’t seem to matter.” And it wouldn’t. Even if he managed to love me, I was still stuck with the nightmares of my past. At first, I had wondered if I would always be enough for him, but would he always be enough for me to forget? “You can’t blame me for protecting my heart.”
“I was protecting the planet until you showed up.” With that, he turned before storming from the bedroom. Thoughts ran through his mind: I am right, but so is he. What is more important? The world or Cain?
“The world.” I sighed and glanced between the empty doorway and the bed. After three days on the road from Montreal, the dusty covers invited me more than continuing an argument. “Just once, I want to be someone’s world.”
Light peeked through the window the following morning, and I squinted at the brightness. A good night’s sleep was what I’d needed, and I stretched, releasing a long yawn. Dorian stood before the window, holding the curtain aside, and stared out at the farm.
“Morning,” I said, cracking my neck. My muscles protested the movement, and cold seeped into my already stiff joints.
“Korrigan says we’re close. She found the wreckage last night.” He spun around. “I told her you needed another day to recuperate, but she insists we leave as soon as you’re up,” his gaze trailed down my waist, “sure look up to me.”
“My sore muscles have sore muscles,” I half-joked, not playing into his innuendo. After last night, I wasn’t sure what to believe or expect.
“Flip,” he said, rubbing his hands together, but I didn’t move. “What you’ve never had someone massage you before?”
My tone bordered on cautious. “Nope.”
“Really?” Dorian grabbed lotion from the bedside table and opened the container. “It’s a bit separated and cold, but it’ll do.” He bit his lip and shook the bottle. “Waiting on you, babe.”
Had he forgotten about last night? Was this his way of apologizing? I slowly turned onto my belly, not wanting to leave the warm cocoon of blankets, but intrigued by his version of a massage. My muscles did ache, after all. Icy air kissed my skin. “Holy shit, put that back on.”
Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel Page 25