The Awakening (Immortals)
Page 33
She kissed him. There was moisture on her cheeks that he didn’t think came from the bathwater. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she whispered. “If we both survive what’s to come. If Culsu is defeated. If living magic survives. If the human world is still worth living in—”
Kalen’s arms tightened. “Those things will happen.”
“You can’t know—”
He moved inside her, so deeply he felt as though he touched her very soul. “I promise you, my love, I’ll do my best to make it so.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Flight 1072 will board in just a few moments.”
Christine glanced at Kalen, who’d somehow managed to wedge his immense body into a puny airport waiting area chair. His duffel and her backpack—retrieved from the Faerie Lights guesthouse—lay near his booted feet. Dark head buried in the sports pages of the Scotsman, he was oblivious of the attention he was attracting. Passersby stopped and stared, then glanced around nervously and moved on. The terminal was extremely crowded, but not a single passenger had attempted to occupy the free seat on Kalen’s other side.
Dressed in snug black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, a black leather jacket slung over the arm of his chair, the Immortal was far and away the most dangerous-looking creature, human or otherwise, in the airport. More than one armed security guard had given him second and third glances. So had every single female with eyes and a pulse.
Kalen closed his paper with an impatient sigh and flung it onto the empty seat beside him. He stared moodily at Christine’s lumpy sweater and baggy jeans, then grimaced and looked away. Christine calmly ate the last salt and vinegar potato chip from the Walker’s bag on her lap.
“Don’t know how you can stand those things,” Kalen grumbled. “They’re the bane of the modern world.”
“I thought that was plastic.”
“That too.” For about the thousandth time, he glanced at the huge overhead clock. “How much longer could it possibly be? We’ve been here for hours.”
Christine smothered a laugh. Her big, bad lover sounded more like a petulant child than a lethal warrior. “They’ll be calling our flight any minute.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into checking my spear with the baggage.”
“Well, it certainly wouldn’t have fit in the overhead compartment.”
He made a sound of aggravation. “Sixteen hours from point A to point B. With layovers. I could’ve had us there in twelve minutes and forty-three seconds.”
Christine’s stomach turned completely over at the mere thought. Twelve minutes of Kalen’s preferred mode of transport would have sent her to bed for a week. “The plane will be fine.”
“That tin can with wings? I highly doubt it. You’re lucky I’ll be there to save you when the bloody thing takes a nosedive.”
“Why, you’re afraid, aren’t you? Afraid of flying!”
“I am not,” Kalen bit off, “afraid.” A faint tinge of color stained his cheekbones. “Translocation is more efficient, that’s all.”
“You are afraid!” Christine crowed. “Well, feel free to pop on over to Seattle without me. I’ll be perfectly fine traveling with Mac.”
Kalen snorted, then frowned. “Mac. Where is that kid, anyway? He should’ve been here by now.”
Only Kalen would refer to a centuries-old demigod as a kid. “He’s got time yet,” Christine said, settling back in her seat with a chuckle. She shook her head. “Kalen, Immortal Warrior. Afraid of flying. Who would have thought?”
“Imp.” Kalen’s dark eyes snapped as he leaned forward and silenced her laughter with a quick, hard kiss. Her magic sparked in response; he pulled away a fraction, looking down at her with darkening eyes.
“Salty,” he murmured. He crumpled the empty crisp bag and tossed it toward the trash can at the end of the row. Then he dipped his head and kissed her again.
Christine held herself very still, fighting the sharp sensation of wanting—needing—that Kalen awakened in her so easily. A tightening of belly muscles, a heaviness in her breasts, a yearning in her heart. For a heartbeat, the airport melted away. She saw only Kalen. Felt only the magic of the love they’d created together.
He drew back, hesitating. An instant later, he groaned and captured her lips again, his mouth parting hers, his tongue tracing her lower lip until she opened fully. He swept inside; she drank him in on a sigh. Before she quite knew what had happened, she was in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. Goddess, how she loved him. Loved touching him, loved making love to him. If she could’ve crawled inside his skin, she would’ve done it.
It had been like this for the last twenty-four hours, ever since she and Kalen had returned to his castle after the stalemated battle with Culsu. Poised as Christine was on a razor’s edge between hope and dread, it seemed to her that every moment of her life was magnified. Sensations were more vivid, good and evil more pronounced. Time seemed to slow, but paradoxically, that only made her more acutely aware of its passing.
She’d spoken to Amber just the night before. The Immortal Darius, along with a witch named Lexi Corvin, had already arrived in Seattle after thwarting Tain and his demon lover in New York City. The last missing Immortal, Hunter, was also waiting. And once all the brothers were assembled…a final battle would ensue, a war that could mark the end of life magic in the human world. The beginning of an eternity of death and slavery.
The realization brought home the fact that every second of life was a gift.
This here and now with Kalen…it was the seed from which eternity sprouted. Christine lost herself in the moment, in the feel of Kalen’s lips on hers. She wanted the sensation to last forever. Kalen seemed to understand. He gripped her hips—hard—and rocked her against his erection. Hot pleasure spiraled through Christine’s body. If only they weren’t in a crowded airport terminal…
A familiar Scottish burr, thick with amusement, rolled over her head. “Get a bloody room, loves. You’re embarrassing the old ladies and little children.”
Oh, Goddess, they probably were. She wrenched her lips from Kalen’s.
“Mac Lir,” Kalen said with sardonic exasperation. “Your timing, as always, is impeccable.”
Mac grinned. “I do try.”
From her perch on Kalen’s lap, Christine looked up at the demigod who was like a son to Kalen. Mac looked much as he had the day she’d first met him at King’s Cross Station. Black leather motorcycle jacket, ragged jeans, ripped seagreen tee. Backpack on one shoulder, guitar case on the other.
He looked impossibly young. She had to keep reminding herself he had almost seven hundred years on her.
Reluctantly, Kalen released her and she slid back into her seat. “You certainly cut it close,” he told Mac. “What took you so long?”
Mac’s cheeks reddened. “A little divine message from Lir.”
“Ah.” Kalen shot him a look. “Everything all right?”
“No.” He shrugged. “Mum’s livid and she’s making Da’s life a living hell. He wants me to come home, but I told him no. He’s not pleased, but he respects my decision.” He shrugged. “I’ll deal with Mum later. After we rid the world of Culsu.”
Christine eyed him seriously. “Are you sure you want to be part of this battle? There’s no guarantee we’ll succeed.”
“Don’t need guarantees, love. You humans need me.” He punched Kalen’s arm. “This relic here needs me. Who better to watch his back than the lad who was his best pupil?”
Kalen blinked. His eyes were suspiciously moist.
Christine covered his hand with hers and he squeezed it tightly. “I’m glad to know you’ve got my back, Manannán.”
“Glad to be there.”
A voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Flight 1072 is now ready for boarding. First-class passengers and those needing assistance please proceed to the gate.”
“That’s us,” Kalen said, standing. He hoisted his duffel in one hand and Christine’s backpack in the other.
/> “I’m all set,” Mac said.
Christine rose, Kalen on her right, Mac on her left. Standing between them made her feel very, very safe.
And very, very hopeful.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s roll.”
Acknowledgements
There are so many people I’d like to thank for making this book possible. First and foremost, Jennifer Ashley, whose fertile imagination created the world of Immortals. I’m also deeply indebted to Alicia Condon for offering me the opportunity to be part of the series, Leah Hultenschmidt for working so hard to make the books great, and Robin Popp for being such a wonderful companion on the wild journey. As always, hugs to my friends in the Romance Writers of America, whose constant encouragement and example never fail to inspire! And last—but not at all least—a big kiss to my husband and kids for always, always understanding.
Rave Reviews for Joy Nash!
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More Rave Reviews for Joy Nash!
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