Blood Seeker

by Lexi C. Foss

  It was a timeless mating, a coupling underlined in the purest of emotions, and she reveled in it all.

  He whispered into her mind, telling her how much he’d missed this, reminding her of their love, and promising her a future of eternity. She returned the words in kind, her cheeks wet from crying, her body strained from the pending release.

  Everything tingled inside her.

  She misted.

  She turned corporeal.

  She misted again.

  Sethios smiled against her neck, then bit her again. She cried out, her nipples tender and hard against his muscled chest. “More,” she begged. “Give me more.”

  He didn’t hold back, unleashing all his power on her, all his pent-up fury and need, all his broken emotions and love.

  She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he ravaged her to an utter completion that stole the breath from her lungs. His name was silent on the air, her oxygen depleted from the force of his thrusts, her essence suffocating beneath the onslaught of his exquisite torture.

  He followed her over the edge, his shudders violent and drawing more pleasure from her already replete form.

  It seemed to go on forever, the euphoric tide carrying them out to sea and refusing to release them. She’d happily drown all over again if this was what it felt like. Exhaustion pulled her under, sending her into a blissful sleep, bathed in the heat of Sethios and the reminder of who they were to each other.

  In that moment, nothing else mattered.

  Only that they existed.

  Together.

  Forever.

  Tomorrow, they would face their future. For now, they would just… be.

  Gabriel stretched out his wings and rolled his neck, his body sore from lying in the same position for too long. After Vera had finished with Caro’s mind, she’d started on his, and it’d left him with one hell of a headache.

  He never wanted anyone to alter his brain ever again.

  At least it was done. Well, assuming Vera hadn’t hidden any other little nuggets away for a later time.

  Gabriel scowled at the prospect, then frowned even more upon realizing he’d just expressed annoyance with his face. Odd. He’d slept off the remainder of Clara’s emotive abilities. So why were his lips moving in such strange ways?

  He straightened them, but his brow furrowed right after. Stop, he commanded himself. His forehead didn’t listen, and his damn lips twitched downward once more.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “You hear them, too?” Owen asked, skipping down the stairs. Jacque met him at the bottom, having teleported from the top. Both men were freshly shaved and showered and wearing an odd sort of glow.

  Happy, Gabriel translated. Wait, why the hell do I recognize that?

  “I’d be grumpy, too, if I overheard my mom getting pounded like that,” Owen said, nodding as though commiserating with him.

  “What?” Gabriel asked. Then he shook his head. No. He didn’t care. None of this mattered. He needed to talk to Skye. “Where are Ezekiel and Skye?”

  “She’s building a snowman outside,” Jacque replied. “And Ezekiel’s helping.” He glanced at Owen, and the two of them grinned like loons.

  “You sent the photos to Jay, right?”

  “Yep,” Jacque confirmed, his lips popping on the end of the word. “I figured he could use the smile during everything.”

  “A whipped Ezekiel.” Owen whistled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  Gabriel waved them both off, done with their frivolous conversation. He needed to ask Skye about her origin, then be on his way. To where, he didn’t know yet. But somewhere private. All this bonding and blood drinking and general working had altered him fundamentally, and he wanted to return to his former self.

  He pulled on his boots and stomped outside to find Skye dancing around her snowman while more white flurries fell from the moonlit sky. Gabriel had no concept of the time, his nap having taken longer than he’d anticipated.

  As the couple outside hadn’t noticed him, he announced his presence with a lingering question from his mind. “Where did Vera go?”

  “She mentioned something about packing,” Ezekiel replied without looking at him. “I think she’s moving to Hydria.”

  That made sense. She’d played a dangerous game by altering all their minds to hide her involvement. Now that she’d undone the memories, the council would more than likely find out. Once they did, they’d see that her loyalty no longer remained with them but with Stas, and she’d be excommunicated.

  Or worse, he thought, looking at Skye.

  Her blue eyes focused on him half a beat later, her dark lashes dropping as she blinked. “Oh. Yes. It’s time to discuss.”

  “Time to discuss what, darling?” Ezekiel asked, his soft tone underlined in indulgence and reverence.

  Why am I noticing inflections in voice now? Gabriel wondered idly, irritated by the change. He didn’t want to notice such things. Unless they could be useful in some way. He started to consider the prospect, only to be interrupted by Skye.

  “My missing wings.” Her singsong voice matched the dreamy quality of her eyes as she gazed upward at the dark night. “I sometimes dream of them.” She twirled around with her eyes closed and sighed. “Freedom mattered more to me than my wings.”

  “The council told me they removed them as a punishment. I didn’t realize that was possible.”

  “There’s a lot they don’t tell you,” she replied softly, her sapphire gaze landing on him. “You believe they work with the Fates, that they keep us sequestered away from the others to protect us.” She smiled, but it held a touch of sadness. “Is it considered a partnership when there’s no choice in who you serve?”

  Gabriel considered that. “No. It isn’t.” Then he looked at Ezekiel. “Did you know she was a Seraphim?”

  The long-haired assassin lifted a shoulder, his trademark leather jacket crinkling with the movement. “I knew she came from your world and that she wasn’t an Ichorian.”

  “And you never thought to mention that?”

  “I asked him not to,” Skye said. “It wasn’t time yet. But now you finally know, and we can truly begin.”

  “Truly begin what?” Gabriel asked, his eyebrow twitching with the urge to arch. He ignored the sensation, keeping his face bored.

  “The future, of course.” She walked over to her snowman to twist the carrot nose just a little. “Now it’s perfect. Let’s go inside, Ezekiel. I’m starting to shiver.”

  He pulled off his jacket to wrap it around her shoulders, then led her toward the front door. Gabriel followed because he didn’t know what else to do.

  “What does the future hold?” he asked, wanting more information.

  “Change” was all she said before shaking the snow from her dark strands and rushing over to the fire. Ezekiel watched her with an indulgent smile that had Gabriel wanting to slap some sense into him. He was too busy mooning over the girl to help clarify her cryptic statements.

  How she’d brought such a formidable male to his knees, Gabriel would never understand. He’d never allow a female to leash him in such a way. It just served no practical purpose. And he liked his independence.

  He also enjoyed controlling his senses and emotions. It helped him focus on what was important—like finding out what the hell Skye meant by “change.”

  “What kind of change?” he asked as she bent to tend to the fire glowing in the living area.

  Owen and Jacque had either teleported somewhere or had stepped out through the back door of the house because they were no longer here. Gabriel would have to bring them up to speed when they returned. Just like his mother and Sethios, who were still upstairs.

  “The needed kind,” Skye said, straightening and wrapping Ezekiel’s jacket tighter around her. “We’ve been controlled for so long. It’s time for everyone to choose their own freedom.” She faced him, her eyes clearer than us
ual. “Did they tell you what I was punished for? Why they removed my wings?”

  “No.”

  She nodded. “There were two destinies; I wasn’t sure which path you took. You picked your mother over your father. A wise choice.”

  He didn’t need her confirmation to know it was the right decision on his part, but he dipped his chin nonetheless. “Why did they remove your wings?”

  “Because I didn’t conform,” she replied. “They group the Fates into circles to predict certain outcomes. And I refused to focus on the outcome assigned to me. So, my wings were removed. But what they didn’t realize was I’d chosen my path with a purpose. Wingless Fates are scarcely monitored because they can’t mist. I used that to my advantage to flee.”

  Her lips curled down, her blue eyes shifting to Ezekiel.

  “Unfortunately, my chosen destiny morphed when Osiris learned of my unprecedented escape. And so, I ended up in his captivity.” She shrugged then as though unbothered by the twist of fate. “I will be free. One day.”

  “You’re free now,” Ezekiel insisted.

  She blinked at him. “Am I?”

  “Are you saying I’m keeping you here against your will?” he countered.

  She considered him for a moment, her shoulder hitching upward again. “You mean to protect me. I understand and value that protection.”

  “If you want to go somewhere else, you can.” He stepped forward to cup her cheek. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, Skye. Just tell me where you want to be.”

  Gabriel suspected that she wanted to be somewhere away from him and the leash that came with knowing him. He’d been the cause of her imprisonment with Osiris. Perhaps not by choice, but it was all linked to Ezekiel’s obsession with her.

  “I like snow,” she said softly, leaning into his touch. “It’s cold. I sometimes feel it.”

  Their dynamic confused Gabriel. One moment, he swore the female hated Ezekiel. The next, she looked at him as she did now with such gratitude and affection in her gaze that he almost understood how she’d melted the cold assassin’s heart.

  What would it be like to have someone look at me like that? Gabriel wondered idly. Then he frowned at the very idea. And scowled even harder at the fact that he was frowning.

  Clara’s power had bewitched him, forcing sensations to grow inside him that he had no business feeling.

  He didn’t want someone to look at him like that. He didn’t want anyone. He was fine alone. Content, even. Fine.

  A growl threatened to lodge in his throat, his annoyance at this asinine conversation enough to drive him mad. Which only upset him more because he shouldn’t be feeling anything. None of it. Not anymore. He no longer possessed Clara’s emotive ability, yet everything around him seemed to roar to life beneath a new light. He was picking up actions and tells that he was better off ignoring.

  Like how Ezekiel smiled secretly for Skye.

  How she seemed to fall into his gaze and smile back.

  How their bodies gravitated toward one another as though pulled together by some unknown divine inclination.

  Gabriel shook his head, spinning away from them. He had nowhere to go except back to the couch. Or maybe he could mist back to Hydria for a bit. Find Clara. Demand answers.

  His eyes narrowed. Yes. Yes, that’s what—

  Skye sucked in a breath, the harsh sound pulling him from his thoughts and forcing him to face them once again. She had Ezekiel in a death grip, her knuckles white against the fabric of his shirt as she clung to him for dear life. Her blue eyes had gone white, her head tipped back at an odd angle.

  Ezekiel held her steady, his hand still against her cheek, the other on her hip. He said nothing, his expression wary as he watched her.

  And then she started speaking, the tone oddly flat and lacking the soft quality that usually caressed her voice.

  “The Seraphim of Resurrection has created a new life. Power. Blood. A combination of abilities unlike any this world has ever seen. The daughter of a supreme being and one of his abominations. With her, he will create more. And more. And more...”

  Ezekiel met Gabriel’s gaze just as Skye jerked herself out of her reverie, her sharp inhale reverberating around them.

  “The High Council of Seraph knows,” she breathed, her voice hoarse. “They’re going to kill her, Ezekiel. They’re going to kill the baby!”

  Gabriel pulled out his phone, dialing Leela. She answered on the first ring. “How’s Caro?”

  “The High Council of Seraph knows about Lizzie’s child. They’re coming.”

  “What?” she asked. “How could they—”

  The line went dead.

  Caro drew the blade across Sethios’s hip, the sharp edge slicing easily through his skin and leaving a trail of blood behind it that she followed with her tongue.

  He tasted so good. Like home. She indulged herself in the flavor, memories of their short seven years together floating through her mind in a warm wave.

  “I see you found the knife,” he mused, his green eyes smoldering as he met her gaze.

  “You tucked it into the pillowcase,” she replied. “Which means you wanted me to find it.” Or he would have hidden it more thoroughly.

  He smiled. “You took it off of Ezekiel; therefore, you earned the blade more than I did.”

  Yes. Her mind held a version of events that had painted Ezekiel in a horrifying light. So she’d reacted accordingly, the confusion of Gabriel having taken her to the male she’d thought betrayed them all overwhelming her entirely. She’d jumped to several conclusions, including thinking Sethios was some sort of mirage.

  Fortunately, all her memories were in the right order once again, putting her at peace for the first time in what felt like centuries. It’d only been eighteen years, according to Sethios. Yet it felt like so much longer.

  She kissed his hip bone, her tongue touching the trickle of blood she’d created with the blade. His cock pulsed in response, making her smile. “This is the reason you wanted me to find the knife.”

  “One of many,” he admitted, his fingers threading through her tangled strands. “Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth on me, Caro.”

  A tingle worked through her at the need in his voice. He’d just gone down on her for the third time—which was when she’d found the knife—and yet her body was roaring back to life all over again.

  He made her insatiable.

  And she very much wanted to return the favor.

  She guided the blade across his lower belly, hard enough to make him bleed. He flinched and groaned in response, his grasp in her hair tightening as she slid her tongue along the scrape.

  More, he growled into her mind.

  Make me, she said, wanting to feel his power wrap around her in that intimate caress only he could give her.

  “Suck my cock, Caro,” he demanded.

  She grinned at his directness, loving that he didn’t waste time with unnecessary words. He knew what he wanted, and he took it. That’d always been the way with Sethios. And she happily gave him what he desired, her lips wrapping around his thick head and gliding down as far as her mouth would allow.

  A guttural noise left his mouth, his body spasming from the onslaught of pleasure her tongue provided against his shaft. She grazed him with her teeth, drawing a hiss from his lips.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, arching into her.

  She repeated the action, knowing he liked the danger of her potential bite. It was a game between them, a harsh dance of sensuality intertwined with unpredictability. He’d once told her he wanted to watch her go down on him just to see if she would bite.

  She did.

  Frequently.

  But not today. She wanted to feel him come undone in her mouth too badly to prolong his sexual torment.

  And he’d commanded her to suck, his words underlined in a healthy dose of persuasion that compelled her cheeks to hollow around him. She reveled in the energy coursing through her veins, the need pulsing against her tongue, and
the connection thriving between her and Sethios.

  It was perfection.

  Made her feel alive.

  Provided her with the history she needed to ground her in the present.

  She set the knife beside them on the mattress and drew her nails up his thighs instead, needing to mark him and remind the world of her claim.

  He cursed and his grip in her hair twisted, his hips pumping upward and forcing her to take him deeper. She hummed in approval at his dominant side coming through, her throat working to accept his thrusts as she continued to swallow around him.

  “You’re destroying me, angel.” His words were gruff and riddled with agony, his body trembling violently beneath her, his mind lost to her ministrations.

  She loved the warm energy flooding through her veins, the knowledge that while he might have compelled her to pleasure him, she was really the one in charge. Because she controlled the pace. Her mouth decided how hard to work. Her tongue chose how to stroke him. And her teeth dictated how hard she bit into his sensitive skin.

  He jolted as she clamped down just a little more, then groaned as she sucked the pain away.

  He was close. She could feel it in the way he pulsated in her mouth, and also through their bond. His breathing shallowed, his muscular legs tensed beneath her fingers. “Swallow” was all he said as he exploded onto her tongue.

  There was no compulsion in that single word, but she drank him down because she had no other choice. She needed this as much as he craved it, his taste an exquisite flavor that was all Sethios.

  Warm. Hot. Male.

  Oh, she’d missed the potency of this position, the way he gave in to her entirely with each thrust of his hips. She owned him completely. Just as he owned her. And it was the most amazing power exchange, filling her with renewed vitality and joy.

  She drew out the moment, licking Sethios clean, indulging in every drop, until he lay replete beneath her. And then she crawled over him to straddle his hips, her heated center exactly where it belonged.

  He grinned lazily up at her. “You look quite pleased with yourself, angel.”

  “I am.”

  He chuckled, then grabbed her hips and rolled her beneath him on the bed. “I still have more in me,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m thinking another decade will suit us just fine.” He kissed her with an intensity that stole her breath, only to growl as someone knocked on the door. “Fuck off,” he said by way of greeting.