A ghost of a smile claims her lips.
“Did anyone fix the wards Skortia screwed with? She said she didn’t want anyone to take credit for her work.”
Trina nods. “Kena was working on something to hold until Ashria gets back, but I don’t think she’ll need to do much. He’s powerful.”
“That’s something, at least.”
“I should let you get some rest.” She leaves after glancing at Draven.
He closes and locks the door behind her and returns to the chair at my bedside.
Now that we’re alone, smiles are harder to fake. “Skortia was the spy the whole time. While she lived here, hung out with us, became like a sister to me, she was plotting the best way to kill us.” She taught me how to fight as well. I won’t be able to throw a punch or do an intense workout without remembering her voice, giving me shit about being weak. “And Maly’s dead, Draven.”
“I know. Verica filled us in on everything she heard Skortia say. I never suspected her either.”
I close my eyes, which only makes me think of Skortia more.
Draven misunderstands. “You should rest. I'll stay here watching over you.”
I heave a heavy sigh. “I really hate that Maly’s gone. I didn’t protect her. The soldiers expected me to keep them safe and I failed spectacularly.”
He grabs both my hands in his. “Remember that speech you gave Trina a minute ago? That applies to you too. You did not fail. Skortia fucked us over—no one could have seen that coming.”
For a moment I sit and try not to cry. Either I'm all cried out, or I'm too tired to open that wound while the betrayal’s so fresh because I’m able to wrangle my emotions pretty quickly. “It hasn’t happened for a few weeks, but I’m so tired of almost dying.”
“Yeah, it’s not my favorite thing either.” The softness of his voice betrays the deep emotion and fear he must have felt when he came in and saw me on the floor.
“Was there a lot of blood?”
His eyes close and he nods.
I will it to disappear so no one else has to see it and be reminded of something bad happening in our home. “I’m sorry you saw that. I know how crappy it was to see you fall.” To see him die. That pales in comparison—we’d only known each other for hours. I can’t imagine how much it would kill me to see that now.
His head bows so I can’t see his face, but I graze his jaw with the back of my hand, comforting him with my touch. He needs things to be okay. I need something normal and pure to hold onto after what Skortia did.
“Draven.” I hold my arms out. He hesitates so I wiggle my fingers and give him big, sad eyes until he stretches out, half on top of me over the blankets. Sighing happily, I wrap my arms around him and feel sixty percent better.
“You shouldn't abuse your powers like that.” He exhales a warm breath against my neck. “Glamouring a helpless Cambion. It's borderline evil.”
“It's medicinal.” I smile and run my fingers through his hair. I do love the messy side-shave on him.
He pushes up and looks at me. “Can you cite that study for me? I'd really like to see the report that shows the benefits of cuddling on someone who's lost a lot of blood from multiple stab wounds after being poisoned.”
“I think that's still under peer-review. They're being very thorough.” Reaching up, I bring my lips to meet his. Warmth spreads through my chest, melting the block of ice inside, and I part my lips in invitation for him to go deeper, but he keeps it gentle.
He’s holding back, hesitating like I’m made of glass.
I’m not and I need him. Our connection is everything. “I'm not going to break.”
“I might,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “My heart stopped beating when I saw your lifeless body on the floor and I'm still not sure it's started up again.”
Oh, to be loved this deeply is beautifully, almost painfully, intense. I caress his face and punctuate my words with kisses. “I'm here. I'm safe. I love you. I'm not going anywhere.”
His hands run through my hair to cradle the nape of my neck, and he sweeps me up into a deep, consuming kiss. His tongue eases my lips apart and spirals around mine, curling my toes and lighting a fire deep in my belly, matching the heat of his mouth on mine.
Impatiently, I kick the blankets aside to tangle our legs together and press against him, separated by nothing but our thin layers of clothing that always feel like miles between us, though I’m still weak.
His fingertips brush down my ribs on the way to grip my hip. I practically purr and he nips my lip and growls into my mouth, evidently liking when I make that sound.
He moves his lips to my throat and makes me make that sound again.
I was the pushy one, making him come to me, now I'm the one rendered helplessly dazed by his passion. Our lust fills the air like heat waves rising off of asphalt, seeping into my skin and feeding me energy. My strength returns in a wave of desire.
I try to move from beneath him, to be the dominant one, but he stops me with a gentle hand.
“Please, baby. I need to...” His voice trails off, and I nod and lie back.
I felt the same after The Sowing, needing him beneath me, where I could prove to myself he was real, and safe, by driving him to dizzying heights of pleasure. I needed to lose my fears that he was dead by burying myself in his ecstasy and giving him something good to feel.
Doing that for him, with him, made me feel okay, gave reality back to me. It gave peace to me again when I thought my world had shattered. He needs that now, and I understand and welcome it.
No shit I welcome it.
Draven slips my shirt over my head, replacing the material with kisses and gentle strokes of his hands. The tenderness in his eyes makes my chest ache.
He makes his way to my mouth, and his hands brush down my body. I arch against him, shivering at his touch, and pull at his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue touches mine, runs gently across it. There’s an electricity built up in him when he does that, and it reminds me of when Trina dared me to hold one end of a 9-volt battery and lick the other to feel that charge.
Everything about Draven is electrified, supercharged with desire and need. His mission as an Incubus is to take that energy inside himself and feed it to me, make it stronger and more intense and then take it back into himself until his partner eventually dies because they can’t handle it.
His mission as my pair-bonded mate is to make us both feel as good as he can, make us lose ourselves in each other and the love we share. I was created with the ability to withstand levels of energy that match his.
He moves up my body, straddling me, overwhelming me in the best possible way with kisses, nibbles, and licks. And then it catches up with us. I almost died. Again.
The gentleness is crushed beneath the heels of our love, too powerful to be denied.
Exploring hands conquer.
Arms that embraced one another now capture each other.
I'm swept up in the confidence of his love for me, and it frees me to give in to my desires, to take what I want, and give back just as fiercely.
No longer able to bear lying down, we move as one, rising up, kneeling on the bed. His hands are all over me, mouth dancing wildly against mine, not even stopping while I incinerate the rest of our clothes. The thin material is too big a barrier—right now there can be nothing between us—and I evaporate them into nothingness.
I can't kiss him enough, can't touch him enough, can't hold him enough. We're pressed against each other, his arms wrapped around me, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe, but it's not enough. I pull him closer, hold him tighter. We're still too far apart.
I want to scream with the frustration of being two bodies instead of one. I need him so much, I need him closer.
Wrapping my legs around him, he lays us down, presses on top of me. The weight of him helps soothe the aching need, but it's not enough.
Not for me or for him.
He pushes inside me, stretching me to the limi
ts of what I can take.
The lights flicker, or maybe it’s my vision, as he begins moving inside me and whispers his words against my lips. I moan mine back, wrapping them around his tongue with my own, stroking his with mine. I quirk my pelvis and his eyes flare, almost white with the heat of his energy. It loops around us, connecting us, cocooning us.
I smile. I love making this man lose control.
But he smiles too just before his cock begins pulsing inside me.
It’s perfect. He’s perfect.
We are.
He burns into me and I melt into him.
Beneath his skillful hands, I am so wanted, so loved, so known and seen. With this man inside me I’m so lost.
And so found.
LATER, I'M SCAMPERING from the kitchen back to my bedroom with a bottle of water and a snack when Trina scuttles out from Kaya’s room wearing a long t-shirt and a freshly-fucked hairdo that matches mine.
I grin. “Whoa! What have we got here?”
“Shhhhh,” Trina hisses and pulls me down the hall. “Whatever, Syxx. As if you and Draven weren't totally just—”
“Point taken. So you and Kaya, huh?” I bump her shoulder with mine.
She smiles, looking dazed. “He's so hot!”
“He's a good guy, too.”
“I know—what’s up with that? You know how I normally like the bad boys. I must be mellowing in my old age.”
I laugh. “I'm sure you're fine, grandma.”
She grabs me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“I am. With a little help from Draven and his—”
“TMI.”
I slap her shoulder. “I was going to say his energy, you perv. Though I can see why your mind would be in the gutter.”
She twists a lock of hair around her finger and blushes, shaking her head. “He’s freakily smart and hot and, well, damn. He can turn into a friggin’ bird, Syxx!” She goes very still. “That isn't, like, bestiality is it?” She shakes her head. “Nah.”
I hug her. “I've missed the hell out of you!”
“Me too. Thank you,” she whispers.
“I didn’t even do anything.”
“You didn’t need to. We’re all alive right now because of you. You’re keeping us all together, and you’ve led me to Kaya. I never thought I’d meet someone like him.”
“I know the feeling.” I squeeze her hand and head back to the bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A heavy fist slamming against the door jolts me awake. Draven's already on his feet, stalking to the door, spell forming in his hand. I've come up from the bed, and crouch in a warrior stance, ready to fight.
“Wake up, Moondreamer, Draven, get off the lady! We've news of the Shifter.” Sakarias’ voice reverberates through the hallway—and probably the entire house. If there’s news of Nakayla, it’s best everyone hears as quickly as possible.
Relief fills me that we aren't under attack, but I really could have done with a less jarring wake-up call after last night.
Last night? The alarm clock reads ten AM, confirming Draven and I fell asleep after he thoroughly wore me out. Delightful man.
I laugh, looking at our tense postures.
Draven gives me a rueful grin. “Guess we're both a bit jumpy after yesterday.”
“Yes, but I do like the view.” I ogle my mate's body. He's still a bit too thin, but he could be in any shape and he'd be perfect to me. I walk over and embrace him. “I love you.”
“I love you more.” He kisses my temple.
We dress quickly, and head downstairs. Soon we're all crowding in the hall, looking to Sakarias to give us the news.
“Is everyone here?” Sakarias asks. “Good. I'm thrilled to tell you that my team has learned that Nakayla will be at Birchwood Park today at noon.”
“Birchwood? But that's right here.” She's in our city and we hadn't known. How long has she been here?
“Yes it is. She's meeting up with one of our agents, who is giving her information about Jecka's whereabouts. Which she won't get.” Because we killed Jecka. “But she will get an ambush.”
Kaya’s expression is blank at the news, but he's got to be feeling so conflicted right now. Evil bitch or not, Nakayla's still his twin and this can't be easy for him. I wish I could comfort Kaya without bringing more attention to the situation. Trina's standing close to him and I try to catch her eye, but she moves to his side on her own and quietly takes his hand in hers. Kaya's posture relaxes a bit.
“What's the plan?” Misty asks.
“We go in, breaking into smaller groups. Standard capture formation, really. One main group comes from the front and distracts her while the rest get into position, flanking her, and boxing her in. A little Moondreamer magic, and bam—she's ours. If she fights, we kill her. We aren't going for maiming, or capture, if she resists. We can't afford the luxury of errors.”
“We kill her?” Ibor asks.
“If we can’t effectively capture her to get more information? Indeed. I've maps of the area in the kitchen. Study them. The park isn't complex, but we all need to be on the same page for this to work. Everyone suit up, study the maps, and arm yourself. We leave within the hour.”
I’d argue it’s not enough time, but the Fae soldiers move to the kitchen and silently study the maps with a deadly intent that reminds me they’re not ordinary people or soldiers. We can do this. The people who created these soldiers will be destroyed by them. And rightly so.
My t-shirt and jeans might be fine for around the safe house, but they're not the best for battle, so I head upstairs to search my closet for something more suitable. I need maximum flexibility, but things that the enemy can't use against me if the fighting gets up close and personal. A loose shirt can be pulled over your head blinding you, giving your opponent the advantage.
I've seen enough hockey fights to know what's up.
My lightweight hiking boots complete the ensemble. There's a chill in the air and I don't want cold toes impeding me at all. My powers will be focused on survival and attack and I won't be able to focus on things like comfort.
The door closes with a bump. Draven leans against the wall. “You okay?”
I sit on the bed and finish double-knotting my laces before answering. “I guess.”
“Sakarias's ‘Moondreamer magic’ comment get to you?”
I hadn't been pleased to be featured as the one whose magic will save the day. “I wish Mom was here.”
He sits on the bed and pulls me close. “I know you do. But you'll be fine. You're not alone in this fight, darling, remember that. We may even be able to take Nakayla down without you using your powers at all.”
“I hope so.”
“We'll be fine. I promise.”
They're only words, but the certainty in his voice is a balm to my nerves. I wrap my arms around him and he squeezes me tighter.
Leaving Draven to get ready, I head to the armoury and grab my favorite knife. Seven inch blade, fat handle. I eschew guns or grenades because my magic is more powerful, and guns only have as many bullets as you can carry. If the fighting is up close, I'd rather my knife. It doesn’t require reloading. I strap a smaller, lighter one for throwing to my ankle. If you throw a knife, you may get the bad guy, but then your weapon is gone.
I'm better with throwing knives than I am with guns. Skortia said—
No. I immediately thrust her from my mind, but not before the hurt of betrayal ripples over my skin like a blanket made of bee stings. Closing my eyes tightly enough to hurt, I breathe deeply.
She's gone now. Move on. Focus on today.
“Syxx?”
My eyes fly open at the sudden company. I hadn't heard Kaya come downstairs. “Hey, Kaya. How are you holding up?”
“That's what I came here to say. I don't want you to worry about me today. It wasn't an easy choice to make, coming to you guys and telling you about my sister, but it was the right decision and I don't regret it. I just wish it hadn
’t come to this.”
“I can't imagine how hard this is on you.”
“This isn't the hard part. The hard part was watching her turn into a cold, calculating stranger before my eyes. Nakayla isn't really my sister anymore. The girl I grew up with is gone.” His voice is steady, mouth set in a determined line, but his eyes are sad.
I put a hand on his shoulder, wanting to help, but I know there are no words.
“If you need anything today,” I begin.
He shakes his head. “I'll be fine. But you may want to talk to Trina. She's gotten it into her head that this is her fight too.”
Absolutely not. “She'd be so out of her depth—”
“I know. I think she just wants to keep us all safe. She's been here long enough to feel like she's one of us—hell, she is one of us. But when it comes to the battlefield—”
“Over my dead body.”
He smiles. “You'd better tell her that.”
“Thanks for telling me. I'm going to just...” I point toward the stairs.
“Good plan.”
Trina's not on the ground floor. I find her in my bedroom, rifling through my closet.
“Looking for something in particular?”
She doesn't turn around. “Something tactical.” The coat hangers make loud snicks as she whips them to the side in search of something suitable.
I move closer, but she doesn’t look at me. “Why do you need something tactical?”
“Because I'm going to be doing tactical things.”
I cross my arms. “Like what?”
The clothes get moved more violently, in proportion to her anger or frustration. “Fighting a battle, obviously! We've got to get Nakayla—”
“Trina, you're not coming.”
“The hell I'm not.” She spins, anger stamped all over her posture.
She’s being stubborn and stupid and there’s no way she’s coming. “You don't know the first thing about all of this. You're not a fighter. For fuck's sake, you catch and release spiders because you don't want to squish them.”
She sets her jaw. “There's no way I'm not coming today.”
The Reaping (The Moondreamer Chronicles Book 2) Page 20