CONCEPTION (The Others) (24 page)

“She is dying, brother.”

“Impossible.” He went back to her side. “She was better
after this morning.”

“And now she is worse.” He motioned with his hand. “The
blood sustained her organs, but now they collapse at twice the rate. She cannot
accept the change as she is.”

“I gave her too much.” Guilt rolled through him in an agony
of condemnation. He had lost control, let her seduce the beast to prominence.
He touched her cheek, his finger starkly dark against her unhealthy pallor. He
could feel her fear and desperation through her despair, felt her jaw muscles
tighten with the effort to control the shaking. Deuce met his brother’s gaze.
“If she goes, know I will follow.”

That certainty came from deep within. The bond was not
complete, but strong enough that there was no question. He would not allow her
to pass to the other side alone and unprotected.

Bohdan nodded, as calm as ever. “It is expected.”

Edie’s nails sunk into Deuce’s wrist. Her
No
slammed
into his mind while a hoarse hiss of sound passed her lips.

“The baby.” She struggled to sit up. “Promise.”

He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to promise he would
live for their daughter. He could not. Their bonding was too new and the
emotions too strong for him to promise he would survive the despair of her loss
this time. He lifted her shoulders off the floor, shocked at the strength of
the muscle spasm that shook her. Much harder and her joints would be in danger.
He could feel her strength of will, her determination to wrest this one promise
from him before she gave up. He would not allow her to give up. “I cannot give
you what you want.”

Deuce closed his eyes and sought the link between them,
matching his heart rate to hers, his soul to hers, his life force to hers. In
the final moments, he would mate his mind to hers, completing the process.

Bohdan knelt beside them, his voice a stroke of calm amidst
the turmoil of Edie’s agony and her body’s collapse. “It is my privilege as
Jalina’s uncle to see to her safety in the event of your loss.”

Eden looked from him to Bohdan. Her protest came from her
soul, the agonized scream of a mother whose last hope had been torn away. A
mental cry that had even Bohdan flinching. The need in Deuce to see to her
anguish was equally primal. The only thing that kept him from responding was
the even more aggressive demand that she not die. He would use anything that he
could to keep her with him. Even if it meant letting her believe her daughter
would be defenseless in the wake of her death.

Edie’s nails raked his forearm. The scent of his blood
filled the air.

His hair slid over her shoulder to land against her chest.
She grabbed it and pulled his face to hers. “You…have…to live.” The order hit
his face in disjointed puffs.

He cupped his hand behind her head and supported her when
she would have dropped back. Her breath was shallow and rapid. Her pulse
laboring. “Then you must live.”

She grimaced. “The baby.”

“Will either have both of us, or neither of us.”

“Unfair.”

He shrugged, his strength draining right along with hers. A
Chosen would have recognized what he had done. His mate had no idea.

Bohdan’s “If you are done establishing who dies when, maybe
we could talk about her life” snapped his head up.

“You said she is dying.”

“She is. She cannot sustain a slow conversion.”

“There is no other way.”

“There is one.”

Deuce would do whatever it took. “How?”

Bohdan touched Edie’s cheek, the gesture uncommonly tender
for him. “A total drain.”

“It is forbidden.”

“Yes. For good reason.” Bohdan’s hand dropped to the floor.
“Rarely does anyone survive.”

Any chance was a chance.

“Deuce?” Edie’s voice was weak, but still there. That was
all that mattered.

“What?”

Her hand slid down his arm, her fingers fumbled with his,
bumping and tangling before slipping between his. The squeeze he had no doubt
she meant to be strong, was barely felt. He curled his fingers around hers. His
gaze met hers. There was nothing fragile about her determination. “Do it.”

“It is dangerous.”

“I’m…dying.”

“Painful.”

“Still dying.” That twist of her lips was a caricature of
her normal wry grin.

Bohdan interrupted the discussion with the unvarnished
truth, shielding neither of them from the reality. “It may not work and in the
end you still might die after great suffering.”

Edie cut him a wry glance, gritted her teeth as she shivered
and groaned. “Like this…is a…picnic.”

“This is not a joke.”

“I dis…agree. Getting bad enough to become…one.”

Bohdan shook his head and touched her hair, admiration in
the light contact, regret heavy in his voice. “The choice is your mate’s.”

She moaned. Deuce caught her close as she buried her face in
his chest. Her “Make it” was a high-pitched squeak of distress. Her pain was
getting too deep for him to shield her from without penetrating her barriers.
Which would kill her.

He had to shift her in his arms, the continuous shaking
making her a stiff weight. Soon the shudders would escalate to convulsions. She
had borne so much. Her fingers tightened on his as her head dropped back. Her
eyes closed. Deuce looked at the fragile stem of her throat, the white skin,
delicate muscles, and felt the burden of his duty.

It was his responsibility to make the best choice for her.
He could let her die in relative peace. That would be kind. Or he could make a
desperate play for life, putting her through what legend said was unbearable
pain to more than likely have her die anyway, with her last moments
unimaginable agony that he had inflicted.

Choose life.

He glanced across Eden’s unconscious body at Bohdan who
stared back at him.

“She would choose to be with her daughter.”

“She does not know how it will be.”

“She survived the Coalition’s torture, freed her daughter
and climbed a mountain in a storm to get her to you. She would not care.”

“I cannot help but care. Logic does not enter into it.”

“I know.”

Deuce held Eden closer, cherishing the signs of life despite
her unconscious state. “What does the drain involve?”

“You will take her blood to the point of deprivation.”

It could not be that simple. “And?”

“Her blood is tainted. It might kill you.”

“It will not.” He would not allow it. Not with her life
being the price for failure.

“You will purify it in your body, then give it back.”

“How will she survive without blood?”

“I will keep her alive.”

He
could not imagine the toll that would take on Bohdan. Tales were much longer of
the healers who had died trying to support two lives with one force, than those
of the ones who had succeeded. “You are too valuable to our people to risk.”

The pause in Bohdan as he stripped out of the confinement of
his clothes was infinitesimal. “Who else has a chance of succeeding?”

No one. There was no other healer with Bohdan’s skill and
strength. The worry for Eden mushroomed into worry for his brother. Bohdan had
been growing more distant of late. He suspected Bohdan was willing to do this
for no other reason than that he did not care if he saw another moon rise.

“Our people cannot be without both of us.”

Bohdan took the sacred candles from the bag and laid them
out in the pattern of healing. “Then we had best not fail.” He waved his hand.
The candles lit and the familiar scent of rasha drifted into Deuce’s turmoil,
instilling calm.

“You will need help.” To succeed in this Bohdan would need a
steady supply of blood, monitoring. Possible intervention.

“The Chosen await your decision.”

Deuce did not doubt that his people would support him. They
would do so for the same desperate reason that he would let them. They could
not bear another loss, and the joy and hope his daughter brought to their long
desperate lives was unimaginable. They would fight to their last drop of blood
to keep that hope alive. Edie moaned and shifted as Bohdan began to chant. Her
hair fell across Deuce’s arm, the long tangle of curls wrapping around his
wrist, binding them together in a vibrant shimmering link. That primitive
corner of his soul that came vividly alive in her presence roared for life
despite the preponderance of logic that said to let her go in peace. He sighed and
increased the depth of her breaths. “When you were with
her
, did you
feel like there was another inside you?”

Bohdan pulled out the red ochre paint and very carefully put
it on the floor. Too carefully. “Yes.”

“And he ruled?”

“Sometimes.” He closed the bag with care, as if by
controlling the things around him, he could control the pain inside. “Being
human, she seemed to understand that part of me better.”

“Your mate was human?” He had not known that. Only that she
had died so Bohdan could live. It was a hard gift for his brother to live with.

“Yes.”

“Would you do this?”

Bohdan’s gaze met his, for once doing nothing to hide the
ravages the loss had left in his soul. “I would risk anything to hear her laugh
again.”

“Even if it hurt her?”

Bohdan took a breath. His answer flowed with the calm of
logic when he released it. “We are taught that life occurs in many dimensions
on many levels, and passing from this one brings us to another.” He dipped his
fingers into the paint, ritualistically painting the prayers for hope and
strength on his forearms.

“I know the teachings.”

Bohdan arched a brow at him as he drew the simple, powerful
images on his right pectoral. “Do you believe them?”

Dusan shrugged. “I believe in what I see, and am willing to
wait on the rest.”

Bohdan completed the figure eight on his left pectoral
before commenting. “Yet you bonded your life force to hers.”

Deuce nodded. Edie was all that was precious in the world.
All that would ever be good in him. “She cannot go unprotected to the other side.”

“If it exists.”

Deuce conceded the point. “If it exists.”

Bohdan replaced the lid on the ochre jar and met his gaze
dead-on. “Then your decision is which life do you believe in more? This one, or
the next?”

Deuce kissed the wildly independent curls on Edie’s head,
breathed deeply of her unique scent and pictured her smile as it had been a
year ago—full of life, hope, innocence and the beginning of love—and had his
answer. “How do I begin?”

Chapter Thirteen

If this was heaven, she wanted to give hell a try.

Eden bit back a moan as another searing pain sliced through
her skull. She buried her face deeper into the softness of the pillow, jerking
back into the pounding of her headache as her skin screamed in agony. She froze
in place, panting as the wave of dizziness swept over her, afraid to move.
Afraid to find out what else was going to hurt. But mostly she was afraid to
open her eyes and see where she was. What she was.

“You could not be anything other than what you were born to
be.”

The pain fell behind a cloud she recognized. “Deuce?”

The mattress dipped. His arms came around her. Her bracing
was instinctive but unnecessary as he pulled her against his naked chest. There
was no pain and her headache was now only a memory. She nuzzled her cheek into the
soft dusting of hair. His scent surrounded her, wonderfully comforting. She
inhaled more, taking it deeper into her. There was something so intriguing
about the way he smelled. She touched her tongue to his flesh. Tasted.

“Who else would be in your bed?”

She wasn’t going there. “Turn on the light.” Muscle
stretched under her cheek. A double click and then brightness against her lids.
“Thank you.” She took a deep, steadying breath and ordered. “Give it back.”

“What?”

She cautiously cracked an eyelid. “My pain.”

Even this close, he looked good. All that golden skin and
rippling muscle with that sexy dusting of hair was pure eye candy.

“You know that is not possible.”

“Not only is it possible, I’m demanding it.” She didn’t
really want to experience that god-awful pain again, but to let someone else
suffer it for her was more horrendous.

“It is not the Chosen way for a woman to make demands.”

“I’m not Chosen.” Eventually he’d catch onto that. She
cracked her other lid. The view just got better for having the whole picture.
Damn, he was big.

“You will accept my caring for you as I see fit.”

“You really need to get rid of that tendency to spout
orders.” She rubbed her head. “How long was I…sleeping?”

“Three days.”

Three days? She took a breath and risked tilting her head
back. She couldn’t prevent her gasp. “You look terrible!”

He did. His face was haggard and worn, with dark circles
under his eyes that were almost as black as the pupils.

He rolled her to her back, propping himself above her with
one elbow. His hair fell about her, curtaining her off from anything but him.
“Your conversion was not as easy as we had hoped.”

Considering they’d worried she’d die, “not as easy” must
translate into something pretty bad. She touched the deep lines of strain
carved beside his mouth, her eyes burning with tears. He’d gone through hell
for her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Your tears are uncalled for.”

“I’m not crying.”

His smile could only be called indulgent. Weary, but indulgent.
“Though you have not let your tears fall does not make them any less real.”

She bit her lip, gathered her courage, and asked, “Did it
work?”

His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Although it has yet to be
confirmed by Bohdan, yes. Your body is healed.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. Nothing felt unusual. “Is
it night or day?’