The Darkest Frost: Vol 2 of a 2-part serial (TDF, #2)

by Tanya Holmes

  He bowed his head and sighed. “I have forgiven you.” He said it with as much conviction as he could summon. “Any notion to the contrary is nonsense. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Xavier is—”

  The sound of the outside gate opening cut his words.

  “Right on time,” Braeden mumbled, walking away. Without missing a beat, he glanced at a nearby console as Xavier’s Hummer pulled into the courtyard. Over his shoulder he said, “Show him to the library.”

  As he rounded the corner he would’ve sworn he heard the word, “Liar,” echo down the hallway.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  Denieve

  ____________________________

  I stood in the middle of the foyer trying to wrap my mind around what just happened. My gift had sputtered to life twice while Samuel Nowak and his daughter were here. The most notable instance occurred as we walked them to the door. A red rose—which signified love—had bloomed on Braeden’s back right over his heart. Though fleeting, it glowed like a beacon.

  Who has that kind of deep-seated affection for a complete stranger? What’s more, I’d never seen the rose during any of our conversations about Nowak. Now I suspected Braeden had repressed it, just like he repressed everything else, but seeing the man face-to-face must have overwhelmed him.

  The second, and most mind-boggling “gift” phenomenon was the lack of cow manure when Braeden parroted Nowak’s so-called delusions. During the short space in time I’d managed to tune in, I neither heard, smelled, nor tasted any of the telltale auras indicative of lies. That meant one of three things. (1) Braeden had told the truth when he repeated Samuel’s accusations, which was impossible; (2) I was going crazy; (3) Not only was my gift sputtering in and out, but it was no longer trustworthy.

  All of these possibilities were equally frightening.

  Our argument just added fuel to the fire. At one point I almost came clean about everything, but Braeden was so entrenched in his own secrets and lies, I figured he couldn’t possibly handle mine. His remark about ghosts was especially exasperating. Telling him my dead best friend manipulated me into coming here would’ve made his overly analytical brain explode.

  But two things were clear: I did hear his voice in my head and a restraining force had held me at bay. Braeden could deny it all he wanted, but I know what I felt and heard. I knew Caryn’s touch too. I’d experienced it before, and this wasn’t her.

  The crush of gravel in the courtyard drew my attention. I rushed to the surveillance screen by the front door. Crap. I had roughly four minutes before Mr. Personality walked in. I dashed to my room to reset the library recorder, but to my horror, the mike was dead. Had Braeden’s psychic mojo caused my equipment failure?

  Thought transference. Telepathy. It all operated on some kind of wavelength or electrical frequency. Maybe it shorted something out. Come to think of it, Braeden had stood less than three feet away from my hidden mike.

  Oh, forget it. I didn’t have time to figure this out now. I had to meet Luke in forty-five minutes. Once I locked everything up, I scrambled downstairs, but what I saw in the foyer mirror horrified me: hair all over the place and pale, clammy skin. I tossed my jacket and purse on a nearby chair and repaired myself as best I could.

  Xavier walked through the door moments later. His chest shuddered up and down just like Braeden’s had as soon as he saw me. Fathomless eyes stared out from a cheerless face, one that held a strange combination of sadness, longing, and uncertainty. As we gazed at each other, a weak smile flickered across his lips like light from a dying bulb.

  He appeared…well, frankly, quite miserable. “You get my note?”

  I ignored his question. “Why did you do it?”

  He gestured. “What? Write a note?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” I said in a stage whisper. “You know what you did.”

  “I do a lot of stuff, D. Be specific.”

  “You told him.”

  Xavier rolled his eyes and slammed the door. “So what?”

  “You knew I planned to tell him everything. But you couldn’t wait.”

  “Why should I? Unlike my brother, I’m upfront with my shit. He, on the other hand is a shifty, lying, controlling son of a bitch.”

  The man was a flaming hypocrite. “You really hate him, don’t you? That’s why you came on to me. It was all part of your sick obsession to hurt him.”

  “Paranoid much?”

  I scowled and tore away, but he tagged my arm. “Let go.”

  Xavier tugged me closer, so close his minty breath bounced off my hair. “Newsflash, doll. I told him because I can’t shake you.” He stabbed a finger into his temple a few times. “I can’t get you the fuck out of my head.”

  “That’s too bad because this isn’t going anywhere. The End. Roll the damn credits.”

  “The End, you say?” He lifted a brow in challenge. “Well, I say, ‘sequel.’”

  Hot blood flooded my cheeks. “Cancelled due to lack of interest!”

  The devil danced in his eyes as he whispered, “Reboot.” When I shoved at him, he tightened his grip. “Want to know what I see when I close my eyes at night? That mind-blowing look you had when I made you come. Every. Damn. Time. And you’d best believe I’ll see it again, but I’m going to be buried hip-deep inside you.” He gave a sharp nod. “Oh, yeah. This will happen, and when it does, I’ll own every inch of you.”

  Damn him. I remembered his lips. What it was like to kiss them and how the mere touch of his hand had shattered me. The memory took over, just as it did the other night. A stark picture flashed in my mind. He was on top of me, sucking my breasts, driving into me while giving and taking, drawing out my pleasure…

  Something more, something of substance, something beyond the carnal gnawed at me as well. I sensed it within him, a light encased in darkness. My spotty gift had produced yet another enigma to torture me with. But it didn’t matter. Xavier Frost was a threat to all I held dear. The feelings he stirred were destructive and wrong. They’d wreck me if I didn’t fight them off.

  I yanked free and stalked down the hall. “Braeden wants you in the library,” I told him, teeth clenched.

  “Face it, D,” Xavier called. “It’s only a matter of time before I get you under me.”

  Okay, that’s it. I tore back around. “This is your brother’s house!” I hissed, stabbing a finger as I marched back. “Say another word. Say one. More. Word and I swear to God—”

  “Swear to God, what?”

  Xavier seized my hand and sucked my finger into his mouth, hard, swirling his tongue over it sensuously. He released it quickly with a smacking sound, then blew the skin dry. I just stood there frozen in outrage, in disbelief, in weakness, in torment. My eyes widened as he kissed the tip of my finger before I found the strength to snatch my hand away.

  “Who are you kidding?” Xavier said, his cocksure gaze taunting me. “You feel the pull just as much as I do. Go on, lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself.” He sidled closer, his voice hypnotic and seductive. “Remember what I told you. I’m nothing like my brother. He’s refined and civilized, but I’m a junkyard dog. I take what I want, and I don’t apologize. To you, to him, or anybody.” His hand trailed up my arm, slow and possessive as if he owned it—owned me, just as he’d said he would. “No. I’m not sorry, D. And I never will be.”

  I wanted to scream, to slap his face again, to deny him, but the truth paralyzed me. “What are you doing, Xavier?”

  His gray eyes darkened to gunmetal. “I’m trying to decide if you’re worth it.”

  “Worth what?”

  “Everything.”

  Word games. God, I hated him. The man would drive me insane. No, I hadn’t a clue what he was going on about, and I didn’t care. I was sick, tired, and mentally exhausted, so I flashed a palm and stalked off just as Braeden rounded the corner. His grim expression deepened at the sight of his brother.

  “Braeden?”
I went straight to him. “May I have a word please?”

  Xavier sauntered past us. The two exchanged a dark look, followed by Xavier lifting his arm above his head and flashing a middle finger at Braeden as he turned the corner. Now I was having second thoughts about leaving them alone. What if they started fighting again? But if I didn’t go, Luke would make good on his threat. He would come for me.

  Sighing, Braeden kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Yes?”

  “I’m going out. I don’t know what time I’ll be back, so I ordered you a pizza for dinner. The delivery will be here at eight-thirty. It’s already paid for. Including the tip.”

  His head snapped up. Something between surprise and alarm flashed in his eyes. He shifted from one foot to the other and slipped a hand into his trouser pocket. “You’re going out? Where?”

  Obviously, me leaving the house was a foreign concept to him. “Is there a problem?”

  “Do you have an appointment or….”

  “I’m meeting friends.” I didn’t elaborate. “Is pepperoni and sausage okay?”

  “What?”

  “On your pizza.”

  He shifted again, his face alight with uncertainty as his cagey gaze briefly dipped to my waist. “Yes, but…”

  I raised a brow.

  Silence answered as warring emotions morphed his expression. An apology for the questions he still refused to answer. Curiosity about where I was going. Concern that the space between us was growing. Regret, fear, longing…

  And finally, begrudging acceptance. “I’ll see you tonight then?” he asked.

  Nodding, I collected my things and didn’t look back.

  * * *

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  BRAEDEN

  ____________________________

  Braeden scowled and tossed his burner phone on the library desk.

  Xavier was on the sofa texting, his feet propped on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. “Why am I here?” he asked petulantly. “Because if it’s round two you’re after, then bring it. I’ll be happy to kick your ass again.”

  “That…disagreement was a mistake,” Braeden said with a sigh. “My emotions got the best of me.”

  Xavier snorted. “What emotions? You’ve been burying them, you fucking robot. Any time you can throw your woman into the path of another man, something ain’t right.”

  “But you’re not just ‘another man,’ brother.”

  “You know what the hell I mean.” Xavier continued punching buttons on his phone, his head bent in concentration. “I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out what you were up to.”

  “I had legitimate reasons for what I did.”

  “You always do,” Xavier muttered, still texting. “But I already told you I don’t give a damn what your reasons are.” He shot Braeden a glare. “I do need an explanation for one thing though. What was the point of you tossing us together if you didn’t want me to fuck her? I mean, we were close. So close I could’ve—”

  “If you’re trying to provoke me again, it won’t work.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. That sucker punch was lame. You hit me because I did exactly what you wanted—as if what happened was my fault. And for what? To get me to agree to Join with you? Why the hell didn’t you just ask me?”

  “Because you would’ve said no.”

  “Uh-huh. Just like I’m saying no now.”

  “You’re being irrational, as usual,” Braeden said.

  “Irrational? What makes you think I want to be shackled to you again? Whining. Nagging—”

  “Right. Like I enjoy being your babysitter,” Braeden grumbled. “Did you ever consider why I did what I did? Why I tried to—”

  “Because you’re a dick.”

  “So you’ve reminded me a billion times,” Braeden said. “But this isn’t about me. Or you. It’s about Danielle. Why else would I put the two of you together? I needed to know how deep your feelings went.” He took a lengthy breath, dreading his next question. “How deep are they?”

  “What?”

  “Your feelings. Do they go any deeper than your pants?”

  Xavier kept typing with his thumbs. “You’re the puppet master, asshole. You tell me.”

  “When I asked you to come back today,” Braeden said, ignoring the barb, “I’d prepared a well-rehearsed speech to convince you, but now, in light of a possible new development—” He scowled. “Will you put that bloody phone away!”

  Xavier shoved the thing into his pocket. He stared at the ceiling, as if going someplace in his own mind. “Answer the damn text already…”

  “Xavier!” Braeden snapped his fingers.

  “What! Yeah, I know she’s dying. But us Joining won’t change that. The Ennis Clinic is a long shot, and Asylum would take her away from everything she knows. I’d rather she live out what’s left of her life free. No Asylum. No clinics. None of that bullshit. Let her die just like us. With dignity and on her own terms.”

  Braeden stared back at him stunned and heartened. That Xavier had even taken the time to think about Danielle’s precarious situation said more than the idiot realized.

  “You’ve obviously given this some thought,” Braeden said.

  “What’s your point?”

  “So you…care about her.”

  Xavier just looked at him.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Take it any way you like. And while you’re at it, fuck off.”

  Braeden counted to five. “This from a man with the heart of a poet. Your mastery of the English language never fails to impress. Again, the question is how much do you care?” He approached him cautiously. “Enough to help save her life?”

  Xavier rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. “What’s this? Another one of your schemes?”

  “No, it’s not a scheme. It’s Interspecies Sexuality 101—a subject you would’ve been well-versed in had you not slept through Yoreck premed.”

  Xavier yawned. “You’re boring me.”

  “That’ll change in a minute.” Braeden went for a brandy. “Now, you know that during Resurrection, Yoreck semen is a thousand times more potent, and it carries an ovulation-triggering hormone that works whether a mortal woman is menstruating or infertile.”

  “Well, I don’t make a habit of fucking them so….”

  “But you’d like to.” Braeden tipped the decanter over his goblet. “At least one in particular.” He waited for the snarky retort, but none came. Well, well, well. Hell had finally iced over. He grabbed another glass for Xavier and filled it halfway. “Back to the point. Even during a woman’s time of the month, the Yoreck hormone acts as a reversal agent, instantly preparing the uterus for conception. The same goes for congenital reproductive abnormalities. In essence, our semen can nullify them.”

  “Right. So our super-duper baby batter fixes what ails them.”

  Braeden handed him a drink. “You’re disgusting.”

  Xavier winked. “I’ve been called worse, honey.”

  “Anyway,” Braeden continued, settling across from Xavier, “our DNA repairs defects to facilitate pregnancy.” He drew a shallow breath. “This is true even for…tubal ligations.”

  Xavier coughed mid-sip and set the goblet aside with an unsteady hand. Caution weighed his tone when he spoke. “Come again?”

  Braeden looked Xavier square in the eye. “Remember I told you I was meeting with Samuel?”

  “Yeah, and I told you it was a bad idea.”

  “Well, you were right,” Braeden admitted. “We had an incident. Samuel pulled a gun—”

  Xavier scooted forward. “He what?”

  “Look, forget the gun. That’s not the point. The point is, I ended up having to immobilize Danielle to keep her out of the room.”

  “So what does that have to do with—”

  “She heard me, Xavier. She heard me in her head. She heard my words as clear as you’re hearing them now.”

&nb
sp; Xavier blinked. “That’s impossible. Mortals can’t hear us.”

  “You’re right. They can’t.” Braeden crossed his legs, his eyes steady. “But a mortal pregnant with a Yoreck child can.”

  CHAPTER 5

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  BRAEDEN

  ____________________________

  “Pregnant?”

  Braeden gazed unseeing into his brandy. He was still in shock himself. “It’s a strong possibility.”

  “With our child?” At Braeden’s nod, Xavier went for his drink again. His hand shook as he downed the brandy in one swallow. He clumsily set the goblet aside and stared off into space. “How long? How long have you known?”

  “It occurred to me the night we resurrected, but I was so focused on the Tishnon virus, I dismissed it. She bled hours after she touched me, so my first thought was cancer, uterine cancer. It runs in her family.” He shrugged. “The whole thing threw me off. Her symptoms. The hormone tests.”

  “Tests that were useless. Why didn’t they pick up anything?”

  “Tishnon cloaks abnormal blood activity, Xavier, so why wouldn’t it cloak a positive pregnancy result?”

  “But that doesn’t explain her bleeding.”

  “Actually, it does.” Braeden dragged a hand down his face. “The human body has to change to make it hospitable for a Yoreck child to thrive. So if she’s pregnant, the tubal ligation repair had to have caused the bleeding.” He took a long sip of brandy. “We’re talking major reconstruction, which is why she was in so much pain at first. She assumed it was a case of bad menstrual cramps. And I thought it was cancer.”

  “Why the hell am I just hearing this now?”

  “Why do you think?” Braeden stared into the dark liquid again. “You know how you are. You would’ve overreacted. Besides, I wasn’t sure.”

  “You’re still not, are you?”

  “No.” Braeden closed his eyes briefly. “Just hopeful.”

  The inconclusive hormone tests he and Dr. Ennis had done had been more than frustrating. Likewise, Danielle’s nausea and alcohol intolerance weren’t conclusive either. However, eleven specific Yoreck pregnancy symptoms on top of these would put all this speculation to rest, with number eleven being the biggest: