Deep Kiss of Winter (45 page)

Breean's hands fisted. “Why did no one tell me?”

“Syler told no one.”

First Marleon's betrayal, and now this. He was losing control of his army! “By keeping this a secret, he has placed us all in danger.”

“Yes.”

“I will not kill him for the offense, but he must be punished. Ten lashes should teach him to use his tongue when necessary.”

Talon nodded. “Fortunately, the agent doesn't seem to know where we are now located.”

One small favor, at least. “Was nothing learned about the Schön?”

“No. AIR still has no idea when the queen will
arrive. The one Schön they have in lockup refuses to speak about her.”

He straightened. “They have a Schön in lockup?”

“Yes.”

A killing rage sprang to life inside of him. That bastard might very well be the one who had seduced his mother and sisters. And if not, that bastard still needed to die, for surely he had seduced someone else's mother and sisters.

“Cain did well,” he said, forcing himself to calm. “Give him the day off and tell him to do as he pleases.”

“He will be overjoyed.”

“I will take his shift tonight, so he does not have to worry about that, either.”

Talon's eyes widened, and there was a spark of delight. Breean knew the two men had spent time together throughout the years, even a few lonely nights. What they'd done, he didn't know but could guess. They might both crave females, as Talon had proven with his excess, but they must have enjoyed each other. Now that women were in plentiful supply, he'd expected their association to end. Looked like he'd been wrong.

He pushed to his feet. “As for now, I have something to attend to.” Or rather, someone.

•   •   •

Aleaha came awake instantly, deeply asleep one moment, fully cognizant the next. Her entire body ached—and not in pleasure this time. Her blood was rushing too quickly, and there was too much of it, filling her veins at an unnatural rate.

She moaned, trying to fight the pain. Trying to stop the unfolding of events that always followed this sensation. Not now. Not after everything she'd just experienced with Breean.

Oh, God. Breean. Was he still here?
Please let him be somewhere else.

She searched the bed with swollen eyes. She was splayed on the mattress, still naked and covered by soft white sheets. Breean was beside her—and he was awake, watching her every move. No. No! She'd fought so hard to keep this part of her life to herself. To be forced to reveal her secret now . . .

More than anyone, she didn't want
him
to witness what she was about to do. What she
had
to do. He'd no longer be caring or kind. He'd no longer seek pleasure from her.

She chewed on her bottom lip to cut off a groan. This shouldn't be happening, not for another few days.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, frowning. “Did I hurt you?”

“I need some time alone, okay?” she told him, voice a ragged mix of faux light-heartedness, pain, and desperation.

“What's going on, Aleaha? You're swelling.”

“Leave. Please.” Only the desperation emerged this time.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

She could see the determination in his golden eyes.
“Please.”

“No. You will tell me what's happening to you and I will help you. That's your only option.”

Seeing no other choice, the agony intensifying, she said, “I—I need a knife.”

He snorted, losing all hint of concern. “There are only two things I'll give you right now, and a knife isn't one of them.”

“Please. A knife.” Wildly she glanced around the chamber, looking for something, anything with a sharp tip. If she had to crawl to it, she would. Last night she'd used her nails, but that hadn't released enough blood. Obviously.

Her line of vision was shrinking, and she saw nothing she could use. No. Wait. In the corner by the door was a bowl filled with fruit. She could dump the food and break the bowl. Surely one of the pieces would be jagged enough to slice through skin and veins.

“I'm not letting you out of this bed,” he told her, “so don't even think about getting up.”

Ignoring him, she threw her leg over the side. The action nearly felled her. Sharp torment exploded through her every curve and hollow, and she whimpered.
Don't cry. Don't you dare cry.

“Aleaha?” he said, concern returning. “Is this a game?”

“No game. Please. A knife.”

“But why? Help me understand what's happening.”

“I have to cut myself.” Soon. Oh, God. Soon.

His eyes narrowed. “Bloodshed is forbidden, Aleaha. You know that. I will not let you spill mine.”

“I don't want to spill yours,” she admitted weakly. “I want to spill
mine
.”

He blinked in surprise. “Again, why?”

“I just need a fucking knife! I won't use it on you, I swear.” The last word left her mouth on a groan. She tried to sit up, to slap him, to force him to understand, but couldn't. Hurt. So badly. She'd waited too long.

“Aleaha?” His voice was devoid of emotion, his eyes flat.

“Breean.
Please
. I must.”

“You're in pain, I can see that, but I can't aid you until you've told me what's wrong.”

She wasn't given a chance to respond. He hissed in a breath and jerked away from her, as if he finally understood. “Are you sick? You told me you weren't infected. Did you lie? Did biting me—”

“No. Not sick. Breean, the knife.” A tear slid down her cheek, followed quickly by another, until there was an unstoppable flood of them. With every second that passed, her pain and swelling increased.

“Tell me why you wish to do something so barbaric as cut yourself. Now!”

The words exploded from her on a desperate breath. If the truth was what he needed to propel him into aiding her, God help them both, she'd give him the truth. “I produce too much blood. I think it has something to do with the way I change forms. And I've changed a lot these past few days. Every week or so, I have to cut myself to drain the excess. I tried to drain some last night, but when we . . . in the tub . . .”

“You didn't change in the tub. I made sure of it.”

“The pleasure, maybe . . . I don't know. Help me. Please, just help me.” She was babbling, but couldn't stop. She expected him to leap away from her with revulsion. He continued to stare down at her, something hard in his eyes.

“What happens if you fail to cut yourself?” he asked raggedly.

“I swell. My organs will burst. Knife,” she cried, doubling over. She must have squeezed her eyes shut because the next thing she knew, Breean was hovering over her, teeth bared.

Finally, though, he held a knife, hilt out. “I am giving you this because I would rather deal with the possibility of contaminated blood than watch you suffer. If you are lying . . .”

There would be hell to pay. “Not . . . lying.” She tried to reach out, but her elbow locked in place, too swollen to move. Even her fingers had become unbendable. No.
No!
“Can't move. You . . . must do it.”

His eyes widened, and there was the revulsion she'd expected.

That didn't stop her from continuing; it couldn't, not if she wanted to survive. “St-stab me. In the thigh. Biggest artery, will drain the most.”

He shook his head violently. “Surely you are jesting. I have killed men for shedding blood, and you want me to stab
you
?”

“If you don't, I'll die.” The more the blood built up, the faster she would destruct. “Hurry. Cut and leave the knife inside. Otherwise, heal too quickly.”

“No.”

“Bree-an. Need to bleed,” she whispered. Then her eyes swelled completely shut, blocking his image. Maybe that was for the best. Now she wouldn't have to see that revulsion intensify in his golden eyes when he did what was necessary. Or watch when he finally abandoned her.

“There has to be another way.”

If there were another way, she would have found it by now. “No, there's—” Her jaw clamped and her throat closed, jamming up her airway, her words. Her lungs began to burn and burn and she jerked, every muscle she possessed clenching on bone. Her stomach knotted, rolled. Her nose stung, desperate for air, and the stinging only increased when warm blood began to pour from her nostrils.

“Damn this!” In the next instant, the sheet was whipped away from her, a cool breeze was drifting over her, and a sharp, agonizing pain ripping through her thigh.

Almost immediately her jaw eased and her throat opened and a scream pushed its way free. Breean dug the knife in deep and twisted. He left the tip inside as she'd asked, allowing more and more blood to flow out. With that flow came sweet relief as the pressure inside her lessened, the swelling faded.

Suddenly she could move. Could see Breean hovering over her, his hand curled over the knife hilt. His gaze was fastened on her face, his expression unreadable. Much as he hated blood, she was kind of surprised he hadn't killed her outright. Instead, he truly had aided her.

As if he sensed her thoughts, he said, “Is this all you need?” No hint of his emotions in his voice, either.

“Yes,” she rasped.

For a long while, he didn't speak, just watched that crimson liquid trickle onto the sheet. Then he nodded, as if he'd just made a very important decision. She was too afraid to ask what that decision was.

“How long do I bleed you?” he asked.

“Until I pass out.” Even as she spoke, she could feel the darkness slinking into her mind. Sweet oblivion, she thought with relief and then knew nothing else.

•   •   •

Breean pulled the blade from Aleaha's leg and watched as the wound slowly healed itself, muscle and then flesh weaving back together. Why she still scarred when she healed so swiftly, he could only guess. The front runner: the number of times she'd been forced to do this. A close second: her curative process wasn't as thorough as it appeared. Either way, this precious female suffered.

Reeling, he cleaned up the blood then burned the rags and sheets before making the bed with Aleaha still in it. She slept through it all, a testament to the brutality of the entire ordeal.

The thought that this woman—or anyone—had to bleed to survive should have been abhorrent to Breean.
Was
abhorrent. Half of him feared causing another plague, killing the only survivors of his race, because of his actions this day. She could be a carrier
for some disease he'd never heard of, never dealt with. But the other half of him didn't care about the consequences.

He would do whatever was needed to keep this woman alive.

She was his, connected to him on a level he still didn't understand. When he looked at her, he wanted only to please her. Well, and himself. Hurting her had ripped him up inside, but that had been better than watching her writhe in pain.

“My poor baby,” he cooed, stroking her soft cheek. She hated what she was required to do to live. He'd realized it the moment she confessed, for there had been shame in her voice. She'd also expected him to be disgusted by her, for there had been grim acceptance in her eyes. But he hadn't been able and still couldn't work up a single spark of the emotion. Not when his actions had saved her.

From now on, he would help her. Be with her through it all. For there was no going back now. They would be together.

While she slept, he remained at her side. Even when Talon came to inform him that darkness would soon fall and his shift would begin.

“I need a few more minutes,” he said.

“Very well.” Rather than departing, the warrior transferred his weight from one foot to the other. “The others begged me to ask if they might have a turn in town.”

“Of course,” he replied. “They may go in pairs, each returning in an hour.”

Talon was careful to keep his gaze away from Aleaha. “They will be very happy to hear this. Oh, and we have finally properly installed the security system around the property. If AIR invades, you'll know.”

“Excellent.” When Talon pivoted to leave, he called, “Tell the men to be careful when choosing their women. They might end up with a wildcat.”

His second in command laughed before disappearing into the hall.

Breean stared down at Aleaha for the rest of his remaining minutes, then stood. Her features were relaxed, the swelling completely gone. He never wanted to see her like that again, hurting so badly.
You're mine. I'll take care of you now.

Once again, he left her sleeping. Fortunately, his shift proved uneventful and he was able to check on Aleaha multiple times. She never moved from that supine position, and that began to worry him.

When he returned to the room once and for all, he found her sitting up in bed. His relief was palpable. And so was his sudden desire. Her breasts were bare, the sheet around her waist, and her hair tumbled down her back, dark ribbons he wanted to wrap around his fists. Yawning, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Had she only now awakened?

“Feeling better?”

“Breean,” she said on a trembling breath. “Yes. Much. Thank you.”

“I'm glad and you're welcome,” he told her, rushing to her side, dropping his weapons along the way. Much as he wanted her, he would be a fool to give
her such easy access to his knives and guns while near—and intoxicated by—her. He also removed his shirt before caressing her arm, marveling at the smoothness. See? Intoxicated. “Now, there's something we need to finish.”

Her gaze flicked to him, widened, then moved to her legs. “The blood—”

“Is gone,” he assured her.

Shock curtained her entire face. “Why did you clean me instead of kill me?”

“I do not want to kill you.” He crawled in beside her, then rolled on top of her. She gasped but didn't try to push him away. “I want to make love to you.”