Col’s breathing was labored and his face was grey. A rale accompanied every intake of breath. His eyes were open and at first Grace thought they were the unseeing eyes of a dead man. Then they shifted to Dov’s bowed head. Col’s fingers clutched weakly in response to his brother’s pleading.
He was dying. They had done all they could yet it wasn’t enough. In a few hours, Dov would have to make good on his decision to provide a second death for his twin. The courage that would take was beyond Grace’s imagining and she wasn’t sure Dov could survive the emotional aftermath with his sanity intact.
“Don’t let him go, Gracie. Tell him he has to stay with me. He always listens to you. Tell him he isn’t allowed to go.” His size and bravado meant nothing now. Dov was reduced to a small boy about to lose his best friend and brother, looking for that grown up who could ‘make it all better’. Could she? Maybe.
“Col, honey, look at me,” she said gently. Col closed his eyes. The second time her voice snapped, matching the sound of her fingers sharply slapping his cheek. “Col. Look at me. Right now.” She slapped his cheek again and Dov grabbed her hand. She yanked it away. “Back off, Dov. If this is going to work, he has to look at me. You need to get Manon. Tell her to hurry. There isn’t much time.”
She grabbed Col’s chin and forced him to turn his head. She pinched his cheeks between her thumb and fingers and shouted into his face, “Open your fucking eyes you goddam son of a bitch. I’m not going to let you turn.” She felt the beginning spark of anger igniting in her gut and she fed it. Anger at the twins for putting themselves in danger, anger at the demons for what they’d done to those she loved and anger at the helpless feeling she’d suffered these last few days added to the flame. She needed energy to fuel her ‘push’ and anger was the easiest to build. “You turn, Col ad Willem and you’ll be screwing your brother over for the rest of his life. He thinks this is all his fault and no matter what we say, he’ll always believe that unless he hears it from you. And you know the truth, don’t you? You screwed up too. Goddam you Col, open your eyes. If you turn I’ll lose you both and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen.”
“Grace! What the hell’s wrong with you?” Canaan stood in the door bleary eyed, looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Stay out of it Canaan. This is between Col and me.” She slapped him again. His eyes snapped open. She wanted to weep for joy but she held on to her anger. She felt the energy swirl inside her as she brought her face to his. “You will not turn. You will not die,” she ordered.
Manon hurried through the door followed closely by Dov and Otto. She took in the scene and ran to Grace who was already reaching behind her to grasp Manon’s hand though she never took her eyes from Col’s. Manon grabbed the proffered hand and her body immediately became rigid. Her head snapped back as Grace pulled the energy from her as well.
“Hear me Col ad Willem. You will not turn. You will not die,” Grace commanded again. Her hair stood out from her head as if lifted by some undetectable breeze. The air crackled with electricity. She held Col’s eyes with hers and forced her will and her energy into him.
Col gasped. His breath left him. Time stopped. Then another gasp as his lungs filled to capacity. His breathing became deep and regular. His eyelids fluttered.
Grace placed her hands along either side of his face, gently cradling his head. “Sleep now sweetheart, rest well.” Col closed his eyes and smiled.
Grace released Manon’s hand. Manon swayed dangerously and Otto rushed to support her. The older woman raised her hand to stop Canaan from doing the same for Grace.
“Not yet, give her a moment.”
Grace swayed but remained upright, the picture of some ancient priestess, halo of hair still fanning out, its white streak gleaming. She raised her shaking hands over her head, fingers spread wide and with a breathy cry she released the remaining energy. A trickle of blood seeped from her nose.
Manon nodded and Canaan leapt to catch his mate as she fell toward Col’s bed. He scooped her up at shoulders and knees and held her to his chest. She snuggled in and smiled in satisfaction.
“I did it,” she mumbled more to herself than the room at large. “I called it up by myself and sent it into him.” She sighed happily. “I felt it take hold of him. He didn’t want to take it but I made him. I did it.” They were moving and she ordered her eyes to open but they wouldn’t cooperate with her demands. “Where are we going?”
“’We’ aren’t going anywhere. ‘You’ are going to bed where you will stay until ‘I’ give you permission to get up.”
Grace snuggled closer. She liked the way his voice rumbled in his chest. “You’re such a bully,” she giggled softly and was asleep before they reached the top of the stairs.
*****
Tyn had all he could handle keeping the restaurant open and dealing with the buyers for the product in the warehouse. He had to admit, it was a good idea setting up as the middle man for the local drug trade. Once the locals had seen the sense and the advantages of being allowed to live, things had gone pretty smoothly. Driving supply down by storing most of it in the warehouse had driven street prices up. It was basic economics according to Andi. Tyn didn’t know shit from economics but it seemed to be working and he stood to make a lot of money if Abyar didn’t fuck it up.
Andi was still missing and Abyar was going nuts. Let him. At least he was holed up in the apartment and leaving everyone else alone. He ranted and raved about the Guardians and the damage they were doing, yet Abyar’s temper had killed more soldiers than the Guardians. There were only seven soldiers left and they were needed to control the minions.
It seemed to Tyn that Abyar had nice human manners but he didn’t really understand this world. It wasn’t like the otherworld where the most brutal survived and ruled. In this world it was the smartest. He thought about that for a moment and made his decision.
“Cago,” he called to the nearest soldier. “After we close, I’ll be going out. I’ll need four minions. They don’t have to be smart, just strong.” After all, they wouldn’t be coming back. “Your job is to make sure everyone else is locked down and whatever you do, don’t bother the boss.”
There was a special liquor delivery tonight. He thought he might borrow the truck. It was time old Tyn learned to drive.
*****
Abyar’s brand burned with a heat unlike anything Andi had felt before. The throb pulsed through her body and settled between her legs. At first, it was just a dull itch that made her think of Abyar only because he gave her the mark. As the hours passed, the itch turned to a slight but constant need that begged to be satisfied. She’d gone to bed and tried to satisfy the need the way she’d done before meeting Abyar. Nothing worked. Abyar was in her mind and she couldn’t get him out.
She’d been here for three days unable to make up her mind as to what she should do. The monster inside Abyar repelled her. The man she knew attracted her. The man she knew, she loved and Andi had never loved anyone or anything before.
The burn was spreading. It moved from her pubis to her left breast. Even the soft brush of the light cotton t-shirt she now wore irritated her breast and inflamed her desire. She rubbed herself, pinched her nipples until she winced but it did no good.
The burn moved to her right hipbone. She squirmed against the heat. She rubbed herself against the upholstery of his chair. The smell of him eased her mind but not her body.
He loved her. She was sure of it. When they first met, she had been ugly; ugly in body and ugly in attitude. Abyar had seen through all that and he made her feel beautiful before he gave her the means to look it. And what about that? Those spells had cost him a fortune. That was part of the reason he needed so much money so fast. He’d loved her when she was the monster. Couldn’t she do the same for him?
The burn crossed to her other hip and then she knew. This was more than Abyar’s brand. This was Abyar himself. The burn was following the path of his blood; the path he marked her with
on the night of the claiming. She was Abyar’s. The choice was already made.
By the time the burn reached her right breast she was running again, this time back to where she belonged. It was bitter cold and she’d left her coat behind, forgotten her shoes. It didn’t matter. Her body burned for Abyar and soon she would be his again.
*****
The dining room became a war room. The table was covered with paper marked with streets, alleys and vacated lots. A cardboard Cappaletti’s and its surrounding buildings stood at one corner. At the far opposite corner of the table a shoe box stood for the warehouse where the drugs were stored.
Grace backed through the doorway from the kitchen with a tray of beer and sandwiches. The low scoop of her shirt showed off her white rose. She blushed when she saw Canaan’s eyes zero in on it and then squeaked when she saw the fistful of pushpins in his hand.
“If you’re thinking about sticking those pins in my dining room table, you better think again, big boy.” She set the tray on the sideboard and began to pass out the bottles.
The others laughed when Canaan made a show of hiding the pins behind his back.
“Hey, where’s mine?” Col asked indignantly. Grace handed him a glass of milk. “Yuck. No more milk. It’s beer that makes the man.” He tapped his bare chest where the outline of lilies and their first blush of white showed between the pink lines of almost healed wounds. He claimed a shirt irritated the scars and everyone pretended to believe him.
“You’ll have your beer on New Year’s Eve and not a moment before. That’s the first night you’ll be allowed out. Until then, it’s milk for you, buddy.” She wanted to pinch his cheeks or pat his chest for the sheer joy of having him alive. Canaan had taken her aside and explained that her constant kissing and hugging were beginning to embarrass Col so she grinned instead.
“Canaan, didn’t you tell her?” Col’s voice sounded pleading.
“Oh, oh. Stand back boys ‘cause the fur’s gonna fly.” Dov had learned a hard lesson but still hadn’t learned to keep his thoughts to himself.
“Col’s coming with us, Grace, on the 30th.” Canaan sounded and looked like a commander until he winced, anticipating Grace’s response.
“No.” She stamped her foot. “Absolutely not.”
“Grace.” Canaan’s tone asked her to be reasonable.
“Don’t you Grace me. He almost turned. He’s not up to full strength.” She had been so strong through the whole ordeal; kept her feelings in check, refused to fall apart, did what needed to be done. Now, when it was over, at this small thing, she began to sob, embarrassing herself in front of the men.
Canaan put his arm around her and led her from the room. He brought her to the library next door where Nardo’s bank of screens offered live feed pictures of Cappaletti’s restaurant and the warehouse. Grace tried to pull away from him when he held her against him. He wouldn’t let her. He held her and rubbed her back until he felt the tension release. Only then did he speak.
“I’ll keep him safe, sweetling. He won’t be at the center of it. He needs to be there. He needs to get back into action before the fear freezes him up.”
“He’s afraid? He seems over eager to me.”
“Believe me. He’s terrified and the sooner he faces that fear, the easier it’ll be to work through it. Let him go, Grace. Don’t give him an excuse to stay home. Don’t make him feel guilty for worrying you. This is our job and what happened to Col is part of it. You have to accept it.” He took a deep breath. His hand continued to rub soothing circles on her back. “This is probably the real reason why women aren’t allowed in the Houses. It’s too hard to watch their men… Holy shit, who’s that?”
The quick change startled Grace. Canaan left her to study a screen. A woman ran to the door of Cappaletti’s. She was barefoot and coatless and seemed agitated. Grace leaned in front of Canaan and manipulated the mouse. The camera zoomed in. The woman’s face was clearly visible as she checked the street behind her. She banged franticly on the door and when it opened, pushed her way past whoever was there waving at them to get out of the way.
Chapter 43
Grace did her best thinking in the shower. Letting the multiple jets of hot water pulse into her flesh relaxed her to the point where thoughts and ideas passed through her mind in a gentle flow without the anxiety or fear that might otherwise color her feelings.
Canaan was right, though she hated to admit it. The purpose of a House of Guardians was to protect the Race and, by default, humans from the violence of the otherworld. It was what Guardians literally were born to do. At times, the possibility of injury, turning, or death would become a probability and she would have to accept that worry and heartache would be part of her life if she continued to live here. The idea of living apart from Canaan and her adopted family was unacceptable. She belonged here. She’d known it from the first night Col and Dov had brought her home. She knew it now.
Once it was settled in her mind, her spirit lightened. While she dried her hair she thought about the supper she would prepare as an apology. Good meals had been few and far between. It was time to get her House in order.
By the time her hair was dry she was singing. She danced her way to the dresser to an off key version of ‘Blue Moon’ and was bent over rummaging through the drawer for some soft and sexy underwear when Canaan walked in.
He chuckled appreciatively at her naked bottom bouncing to the beat. “Woman, this is a sight most men only dream of coming home to. You have the sexiest ass.” She slowed her search and wiggled a little more. Canaan’s hands played over the swaying globes and kneaded the supple flesh which resulted in a throaty “Ah”. They traveled around her hips.
“That’s not my ass,” she laughed and straightened her back.
“If it’s soft and round, I like it.” His hands moved up to her breasts and she leaned back against him enjoying the sensation. “I like it even more now that it’s officially mine.”
“You don’t own me,” she purred and rubbed against him. She liked the feel of his muscles through his t-shirt and flannel. Even after all this time, the idea of Canaan being fully dressed while she was held naked and vulnerable in his arms was erotic and exciting.
“Own like a slave? Not likely.” The laugh rumbled in his chest. He slid one hand down her body and cupped her sex. “Never the less, this body is mine,” and laughed again when she shivered against him. “On the bed, wench.” He picked her up and tossed her to the bed hard enough to make it bounce and she squealed in mock fright.
“I can’t, Canaan, I have to get your supper,” she protested half heartedly.
He pulled on her ankles to bring her closer to him. “What a good mate you are to be so concerned about feeding me.” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a lecherous grin. “It just so happens that the food I’m hungry for is ready to eat.” He ran his finger along her womanly cleft watching her eyes and smiling at her sharp intake of breath. He brought the glistening finger to his mouth sucking the juice from it as he slowly withdrew it from his lips. “Mmm. Just the right temperature too.”
“Canaan, stop playing with me. Get those clothes off and get up here. I want you. I’ve missed you.”
“All in good time, love, all in good time. Draw up your knees up and rest your feet at the edge of the bed. That’s it, my love.” He spread her knees wide and went down on his knees. He ran his mouth over her labia, separating the petals with his tongue. “A man could live a lifetime feasting like this.”
She moaned as he continued with his meal, nibbling and licking with his lips and tongue. Her head was thrashing by the time he reached her clit and when he lifted the little hood with his tongue and gently bit that delicate swollen nub, Grace came apart. Her back arched off the bed leaving only her head to support her weight as the wave of the orgasm swept through her.
Somewhere along the way, Canaan had shed his clothes, and before the wave finished breaking, he was over her and around her and she was lifted into his lap. H
is mouth devoured hers. She tasted the salty sweetness of her love on his lips. She felt his hardness beneath her and she squirmed against him. She wanted him inside her, needed him inside her.
“Lie back,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Lie back and let me enjoy.” He suckled her breast, gently at first, then slowly increasing the force, pulling with his lips and teeth almost to the point of pain and released her only to begin again. Kissing and laving with his tongue, he whispered his love for her and with his fingers dipping and caressing and plunging deeply into her sweet core, he brought her to the edge time and time again until she was desperate with desire, panting with want. He was her world. Time and place lost meaning. There was only Canaan and his hands inflaming her senses.
His lips kissed their way to the base of her neck where they lingered, giving her respite from the forces building inside her and then he bit her. The world exploded into a thousand lights and colors and her body exploded with it. There was no room for thought, simply sensation as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss overtook her. She barely felt his tongue as he sealed the wound.
He gave her no time to recover. Turning with her he laid her down on the bed and entered her, pounding into her almost brutally. It wasn’t enough for Grace. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust her body up to slam against his. She was one with his heart and mind. She wanted his body also.
Grace opened her eyes and was awed by the terrible beauty of the face before her. It could have been carved from granite. The square cut of his chiseled jaw was slashed by the sharp cut of his mouth, his lips drawn back from a set of glistening fangs. High flat cheekbones rose to support the finely carved eyes that glowed, as had those in her vision, a fiery red. This was the face of the man she loved.
Canaan brought his wrist to his mouth and slashed it on the razor sharp point of his fang.
“Drink, love, please.” His voice was pleading, desperate, almost begging.
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