Pure Desire [Pure 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Barbour, Carolina

  “The baby—”

  “You want me to get my six-shooter?” she teased.

  “Madam, since you put it that way.” Unable to resist her pouty demand to feel his cock inside her pussy, Noor made allowances and relented to Allura’s unabashed commands. He moved his body over her with lithe and grace and obliged his adoring wife by filling her to excess. Against the rage of desire licking at him, he tampered his lust to take her easy, slow, and with the gentlest care.

  Afterward, Allura lounged lazily, sedated in the warmth of Noor’s arms. She held him closer then close. Her nose rubbing against the silken skin of his neck, shivered. “Must I repeat I don’t like this one bit?” She yawned, already drifting asleep.

  “You just did and it’s dually noted.” He kissed the top of her head.

  The heat of the passion that inflamed their bodies waned as they slept, and Noor eventually awoke, feeling the chilly air escalate to what he considered uncomfortable for Allura. The last thing he wanted was for her to catch an ailment because he had been careless. With the best intentions to lure her awake, he nuzzled her nose gently and nibbled the underside of her chin until she murmured something intangible. “We should go, sweetie.” He kissed her lips and became instantly aroused, and they began touching and stroking each other until the innocent petting turned heated. His mind said protest, his cock screamed differently, and when Allura slipped her fingers down his stomach and curled them around his erection, he was more than agreeable to stay a little longer.

  He pulled the blanket around their bodies to add heat to keep Allura comfortable. Not that she felt cold, in contradiction, her body was hot and demanding as they made love tenderly. He moved unhurried and tender, taking her beautifully sweet even when the intensity of their mating built with urgency. Their passion escalated, heightened, and drove them quickly into completion where Allura’s soft cry of satisfaction mingled with his hoarse moan as the world around them faded to black and nothing existed but the moment.

  “We should have left hours ago. Are you okay?” he asked walking them through the umbra toward the horse.

  “I’m fine and happy as a lark.”

  “Good.” Noor lifted her onto the horses back, and then mounted behind her. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and held her close against him as he motioned the horse to move.

  Allura snuggled against him, so familiar, so where he felt she always belonged, and the sense of emotions and love swelled inside him and gripped his heart as the animal sauntered leisurely down the path and headed home.

  They rode back into reality, the real world, and all its perils.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  The night was serene and quiet. Too silent, and that’s what alerted Noor, along with the scent that reached his nostrils when a brisk gust of wind fluttered past him.

  The horse’s ears pricked and so did his as a blur of something moved in his peripheral vision and hid in the dense foliage. He slowly eased his hand down to secure the shotgun when gunfire burst through the quiet, crackled, and ricocheted off a tree trunk, splitting the bark.

  “Coward bastard!” Noor cursed, and pulled the rifle free. “Keep your head down!” He shoved Allura into the protection of his arms and shielded her body with his own.

  Another shot rang out—whizzed by dangerously close—and grazed his shoulder.

  He returned fire, aiming in the direction of where he spotted the figure, and pumped several rounds in that area. One bullet must have hit its mark. He heard a grunt, and then dead weight hit the ground with a thud.

  Adrenaline raged in his veins as he waited and listened, expecting another attacker to start an assault, but all remained serene except for the faint odor of death and blood. The identifiably putrid smell filled his nose.

  “Noor, you are bleeding,” Allura said, reaching to touch his ripped shirtsleeve coated with blood.

  “It’s nothing—” His words locked in his throat, seeing the stain on the blanket, dark and spreading in a wide circle. “Shit.” Gently he peeled back the cover, searched Allura’s chest, and was relived no bullet holes were there until her hand fell away from her belly and he saw all the blood.

  Allura stared up at him, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m not hit—the baby is coming. It’s too soon,” she whispered.

  Noor caressed her cheek soothingly, smiling when he felt like crying. He put on a brave face and said, “You and the baby are going to be fine.” He prayed and spurned the horse into a gallop, knowing there was no time to waste.

  * * * *

  Noor clutched the glass so tightly it shattered when he heard Allura’s screams. He swore and damned Legend and their archaic rules. He wasn’t about to remain below stairs and nurse a stiff drink while Allura suffered upstairs. Forcibly, he wiped the shards of glass from his hands and stormed from the room to go to his wife.

  When he entered the bedroom like an eye of a storm, a doctor was wiping the blood from his hands on a towel. Too damn much blood. He shifted his attention to the bed where Allura lay, ghostly white, sweating, and rigid in pain with Fawn sitting beside her holding her hand. They exchanged glances, and a brief, silent understanding passed between them before he walked over to the bed.

  He bent over and wiped Allura’s forehead with a gentle stroke. “Hey, sweetie.”

  “The baby is coming.” She gasped, clutched the hand he offered, and squeezed so tight his hand turned as pale as her white knuckles.

  “I know. I know.” He cooed. “It shouldn’t be too long now,” he whispered. He kissed her cheek, ignoring how she felt hot to the touch, and then stepped to the summoned doctor, who came from the next town since Doc Cochran was out of the city. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. It was insignificant in the scheme of things. Allura had been suffering, for what he believed was too damned long. Not medically trained, he still had the sense to know the baby’s delivery should have happened hours ago. Even considering they weren’t on Magnus and Allura had to do things the old-fashioned way, the amount of time that had passed made him uncomfortable. “What’s taking so long?” he demanded, roughly.

  Slender as a grasshopper and just as bony, the doctor looked down his nose and over the rim of his round, wire-rimmed spectacles. “These things take time. Most men prefer to wait below stairs with a hefty brandy,” he said in a condescending manner, looking Noor up and down.

  Noor grabbed the man’s elbow and dragged him out of hearing distance. “I’m not like most men. Is there a problem?”

  The doctor shrugged nonchalantly, and his indifferent mannerism escalated Noor’s agitation. “Is that a yes or no?” he breathed.

  “Your wife is losing a lot of blood, and there seem to be complications. I’m doing the best I can under the conditions.”

  Noor squeezed his arm until he cringed and the blood drained from the doctor’s face. “Not good enough. What exactly is wrong?”

  “The child is breech. I tried to turn the body but wasn’t able to and…I’m afraid we must wait to see if the baby corrects itself. Sometimes they do.”

  A sense of fear rippled through Noor. “And if the baby doesn’t adjust?”

  “I will try using forceps to maneuver the body around, but I can’t make promises. If that doesn’t work, I’m afraid it’s in the hands of the lord almighty.”

  Taking slow, deep breaths, he tried to calm the fear that had escalated to terror.

  Allura screamed a high-pitched sound that echoed in the room and shot through Noor’s body, leaving him trembling.

  Fawn jumped to her feet. She hurried over to Noor and the doctor. “My god, she’s losing so much blood. The bed covering is soaked.” She wringed her fingers and twisted her skirt into a knot between her fingers.

  “She is going to be okay,” Noor said, and then hoped he didn’t become a liar.

  The doctor went to the bed, but Noor made it there first. He dropped to his knees and held Allura close until the next contraction passed and she collapsed back against the bed p
anting, blowing, blowing, and pushing out air until he feared she might hyperventilate. “Baby, you need to slow your breathing. Real slow…easy, okay?” He patted her hand to offer assurance he didn’t feel, and then went to the doctor who stood at the end of the bed. The doctor examined Allura, stepped back, and began shaking his head. He looked at Noor as if Allura was already six feet in the ground. “She’s in the hands of god. The baby is stuck in the birth canal. There is nothing I can do.” The doctor removed his glasses and wiped the fogged lenses with a handkerchief. “We should pray,” he murmured, glanced pitifully at Allura. “For their souls.”

  Fawn gasped when Noor grabbed the doctor by the pants, stalked to the door, and hefted him through it and sent the physician flying through the air. There were thumps, thuds, and a loud smack when he hit the landing below.

  “She’s unconscious,” Fawn whispered, returning to Allura’s side. She covered her face in her hands and began to weep quietly.

  “Allura and my baby are not going to die,” Noor said with conviction, and then repeated the words. He continued to say it even when Fawn’s distress heightened and she sobbed openly, wailing when Mortimer entered the room in time to catch his wife swaying on her feet.

  Noor walked slowly to the bed and stared down at Allura. Her breaths were shallow, all the blood drained from her face, and she lay deathly still. Her eyes were half-open, glazed, and focused on the ceiling. He dropped to his knees beside the bed. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t leave me.” His voice tightened as something lodged in his throat. Jostling her gently, he breathed with relief, seeing her eyelids flutter open. Touching her cheek, he caressed her sweated skin, wiping away the perspiration that dampened her skin. Allura moaned. “Shhh…save your energy. It’s going to be okay.” He prayed.

  “Noor,” she said softly. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

  “Allura!” he shouted seeing her fading away.

  “My baby. Oh, my child,” Fawn cried softly and buried her face in Mortimer’s shoulder.

  “This is not happening.” Noor gulped, laying the side of his head against her breast. He concentrated on the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she took in and released labored breaths. A raw fear made him shudder. He jerked back, hearing her heartbeat drop to an undetectable level. “Allura! Allura!” he shouted and stood up. “Don’t you dare die on me!”

  Mortimer grabbed Noor by the shoulder. “I sent for Doc Cochran and pray he can make it here in time. I sent my fastest horse with my man to retrieve him.”

  Noor couldn’t hear him. The room spun dizzyingly all around him and everything went black as Allura gasped for breath. There was so much blood…

  “Allura!”

  He heard commotion in the room, voices that seemed to come from a tunnel. There was buzz of white noises he didn’t hear or understand as he looked at Allura’s lifeless body. The humming intensified. He wanted to turn and see who made the odd sounds, but he was frozen. His entire body locked in place. He stood there trying to make out the haze of activity happening around him.

  Somebody was talking to him. He tried to focus on the face and listen to what he or she said, but the tones were hollow and distant-sounding and didn’t make any sense. Confusion whirled inside his head. Blinding numbness confiscated his body. He stood there comatose, unable to move or reason through the madness.

  “Dead? No—both of them?”

  It sounded like Mortimer, but he couldn’t be sure. He wanted to turn around and pay attention and understand but couldn’t. Frankly, the thought of the truth frightened him more than not knowing.

  “Noor?”

  He shifted his eyes and saw his aunt standing there. Noor squinted. No, he had to be dreaming. Yes, that was it. He had to be in a dream, living a hellish nightmare. Pulura was on Magnus. Wasn’t she?

  Pulura spoke again and said softly, “Noor…listen to me.” She touched his face, and for a dream, she felt so warm, so real. He could even smell her familiar flowery scent. “Channing brought me here to try and help Allura and the baby. I did…I did everything I could. I swear it. If we were on Magnus, perhaps…” He listened to his aunt’s voice break with emotion. He turned away, refusing to look at her. She was crying, and the devastation on her face seemed so real. He never had such a vivid dream before, and if this was how it felt, he didn’t want to experience another one.

  Mortimer tried to talk to him next. He patted him on the shoulder and said, “Son, I know how you feel.”

  How could he know that? Had Mortimer lost a wife and child before? The question was irrelevant. After all, this was all a dream. Right?

  Channing walked up to him next and slapped his face. Leave it to Channing to hit him for nothing. “Damn it, man, snap out of it.” He considered hitting him back. He wanted to punch him, something, ram his fist into the wall. He would if he could move.

  His eyes shifted and focused on the forms on their knees. What were they saying? Were they praying? A man stood bedside he didn’t recognize. He wore a black suit and a white collar. His thick hands clutched a cross that dangled from a chain around his neck.

  Fawn made the sign of the cross over her chest.

  Reality hit like an avalanche and crashed him solidly in the chest to the point Noor couldn’t breathe. He wavered on his feet, disorientated. Noor crumbled to his knees and bent over on all fours—nausea bubbled and bile burned in his throat. He threw back his head and howled a distressed rumble, which resonated and broke through the whispered prayers, low, guttural, and soul wrenching.

  Chapter Forty

  Noor stood off in the distance and apart from the Deverills, who had come to attend Allura’s and his child’s burial along with other townspeople who wanted to show their respect for his loss. The preacher spoke eloquently, and people mourned openly. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd. Mrs. Norris whimpered through the entire service and her husband dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. Sheriff Jacob kept a stoic expression, occasionally running his hand over his face, pretending to wipe away the sweat even though the day was balmy with a light breeze. Even Matt Graham, understanding the grievances in this situation had to be put aside, had come and offered his condolences with his daughter Caroline by his side the entire time. She never looked him in the eye, though. Even when he made it a point to catch her attention, she tactlessly evaded any opportunity to meet him. He knew why. Dunst was the shooter. When they found him, he was alive. Severely wounded, he survived long enough to confess that Caroline had played a major role in the shooting, and then he died, right after he emptied his gun between his eyes.

  Fawn had made wonderful arrangements for the services. She selected a shiny mahogany casket draped with white flowers for Allura and tiny bluebells for his son. Two tombstones, engraved with endearments, sat on the hilltop overlooking the expanse of land that Allura loved so much. The burial sites were situated on McFarland’s property, a quiet, serene, and remote place that offered peacefulness with its towering pines, crystal clear stream, and natural beauty nearby.

  A woman he didn’t recognize sung a hymn. He didn’t pay much attention to the words, all about their god’s glory, going home to the Kingdom, pearly gates, and nonsense he didn’t understand. But he respectfully allowed the song because it made those around him comfortable. It struck a raw nerve with him. The entire scenario was daunting and dismal and had taken its tow to the point. It was all he could do not to stop the nonsense. It was what he wanted. Channing and his family had convinced him this was something he had to do. Stand by and let them bury his wife and child’s bodies to console others when the entire scene made him feel morbid.

  Something in Noor’s gut ached when the men lowered the caskets into the ground. One by one, people came forward to toss flowers inside the grave. They said their good-byes and then walked single file before him to offer commiseration that he acknowledged with a nod and handshake, and then uttered a thank you.

  Frankly, he was glad when it was all over. He didn’t wait unt
il the gravedigger shoveled dirt into the hole but instead walked away. Dry eyed, he didn’t shed one tear. He felt nothing and refused to expend any energy or thought into anything except seeking revenge for what he had put Allura through.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Noor listened to his boots tap-tap over the marble flooring that lined the corridor as he made his way down the hallway toward the secure intensive care unit. He observed the décor. Classic blandness coupled with streaks of vivid color that every medical facility on Magnus had that were supposed to make visitors feel comfortable and forget the reason they came—sickness and convalescing patients waited on the other side of the double doors. No matter how they dressed up the medical provisions, it was always soft, fluorescent, recessed lighting, floral infusers to cover the medicinal smells, and bright abstract artwork lined the walls. There was plush lounging chairs, satin recliners, and upbeat elevator music piping into the room that gave the impression you were in an upscale hotel lobby instead of a hospital.

  He stopped at the entryway and placed his palm over the identification pad. He watched the sequence of green and yellow lights flash, and then stopped on green. The retinal scanner extended, and he leaned forward and allowed the probing scan to read. A feminine voice sounded, asking for his patient-visitor code.

  “Rynoir, two-four-six, alpha ‘S’ and ‘X,’” he said into the intercom.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rynoir. Please proceed to zone blue. Have a nice day.”

  She was in the blue zone. That was encouraging. The hospital was marked in specific zones depending on the condition of the patient. Blue was good.

  Noor stopped at a vending kiosk and purchased a bouquet of flowers and a box of sweets.

  When he reached the door, he acknowledged the armed guards that resided outside the doorway and chatted casually with the men a minute before going inside. He was beginning to feel more comfortable now that he knew undesirables hadn’t tried to gain access. He couldn’t afford to underestimate Emperor Agaci.