Kindred of the Fallen (31 page)

He wiped sweat from his forehead. “I don’t quite get the last part of what you said, but I believe I understand the sentiment behind it. Please sit, so we can discuss this while we eat.”

“Eat?” Storming closer, she eyed the table. “You want to eat?”

Cyrus sprang to his feet and snatched her forearms to stop her from smashing dishes or worse. “Don’t you dare!” He squelched the anger flaring in his blood. The emotion was hers, not his. “I’m not making light of this. I’m simply ravenous. I haven’t eaten all day.”

She wrenched free of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and he feared he’d hurt her. Before he could embrace her, a whiplash of fury crackled in their energy stream.

“When you watched me, decorated that room, brought me to this house, your plan the whole time was to get me pregnant. I can’t believe I trusted you.”

“I did what I thought would best serve you and our people. You weren’t ready to have every truth hurled at once.”

“You deceived me. I had a right to know before you slept with me!”

He’d acted judiciously, her welfare ever in mind and now she painted him as a fiend. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s insulting when you hide things, even under the pretense of protection. Stop lying.”

Shrewd, yes. A liar, definitely not
. “Some Kindred would kill us to prevent the birth of the redeemer. Others would gladly die to protect us to ensure we have a chance to save our people from extinction and the agony of the curse. We’re the only living Blessed couple, the best chance for redemption in a thousand years. It’s a heavy burden I didn’t want you to bear.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, she began to pace.

“Please, sit.”

“What is redemption supposed to mean for us?” she asked, ignoring the request.

“Some speculate future generations will no longer be marked or suffer the torment of
sangre saevitas
and the dark veil. But we all believe the prophecy. When the redeemer is born, Kindred will be stripped of their distinction and brought closer to humanity.”

“Stripped,” she whispered. “I guess I blocked out the part about losing our powers.”

A nauseating ripple fluttered through their stream.

The cost was great, but the price had to be paid. More and more were dying. Fewer
eligien
, offspring of
kabashem
, were being born, despite their efforts to propagate. And
prodigierium
, unnatural ones…runts, seldom lived to fifty years old.
Sangre saevitas
and the dark veil always hit them the fastest.

“What if we didn’t have a baby?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.

“The possibility still makes our union a threat.”

Her arms wrapped around her midsection. “Are you saying I have to have a baby?”

Something inside of him shifted and withered and sank into the pit of his belly. The female he loved, his
kabashem
, didn’t want to have his child. “We’ll never be safe until we do.”

Redemption and their safety were at stake, but to force such a thing on her would ruin them. House Herut would gladly have him strap her to a bed and take her against her will until her womb was heavy with child, but she’d hate him for it. And he’d hate himself even more.

“I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother.” Finally, she met his gaze with woeful eyes. She stepped closer to him, yet stayed out of reach. “How could you make love to me, again and again, and not tell me any of this?”

He leaned forward in his chair, debating on whether it was safe to touch her. “I swear, I was going to tell you.”

“When? After you’d gotten me knocked up?”

The truth seemed pointless. She wouldn’t believe him now. What should’ve been a calm discussion—on his terms, not Abbadon’s—had veered into a convoluted mess that was blowing up in his face, but he could fix it. He only had to diffuse the situation, make her understand. “Sit,” he said gently, “have some wine, let’s eat and I’ll explain to your satisfaction.”

“I’m not hungry. You eat.”

By the time it’d registered that she actually wouldn’t join him for dinner, she’d entered the bathroom and started the shower. Half of him longed to follow her and resolve the disagreement. The other half refused to move, vexed by her impertinence to walk away from
him
in the middle of a conversation.

He shoveled a forkful of lukewarm food into his mouth, tasting nothing, all flavor washed out by roiling emotion. Hell, he had even apologized and she’d simply dismissed him. One apology after another with that female.

Swallowing another mouthful of food, he chewed over the conversation. He had apologized, hadn’t he? One was definitely warranted now, even if waiting to disclose the specifics about redemption had been for the best.

“Damn it!” He dropped his fork on the plate and drained his glass of wine.

On his way to join her in the shower, he peeled off the rest of his clothes, preparing to stuff himself full of humble pie.

Manipulation. Deceit. Half-truths spun in a web of irresistible seduction. All for the sake of redemption.

Stepping under the steaming water of the shower, she gave a small hiss as the welts on her body blazed with fresh pain. Long, dark marks covered her skin. In two spots on her leg, the area surrounding the raised welts was mottled purple.

Every lash Abbadon had given her, she’d deserved. Perhaps it was selfish, cowardly even not to have a child. The redeemer, the first Kindred with a sanctified soul. Then again, the sacrifices necessary must not be worth it if her parents had tried to spare her from this by keeping her away from Cyrus.

Who’d want to go from the glory of what they were now to being ordinary and weak?

Condemnation of some sort seemed inevitable either way, but ensuring their safety meant everything. Yet, the intangible idea of redemption mattered little. The choices of two people couldn’t possibly decide the fate of an entire species.

She was so furious with him for tricking her, violating her trust, she could slap him silly. Lathering up, she wanted to wash away the sting of betrayal and the crushing burden heaved upon her. She’d spent her entire life carving out a safe, secure sanctuary from craziness and violence. To have it all upended in days by love, and this amazing man, was so unfair.

What if finding her soul mate cost her life?

It was too much. She needed to forget for a few hours, to release the pressure and dread.

As she rinsed, the bathroom door opened. Before Cyrus could get in the shower, she turned the water off and stepped out. She grabbed a towel and turned to face him.

Horror stretched his eyes wide, his gaze winding down her body, undoubtedly soaking in her collection of bruises. “What happened to you?” he asked, rushing to her side.

She covered herself with the towel. “Training with Abbadon.”

A growl tore through him, then he muttered Abbadon’s name and something about pulverizing balls.

“He did nothing wrong. The training was necessary.”

The pain reflected in his eyes was worse than the pain in her body. Unable to look at him, she hurried into the bedroom to dress. She didn’t want his pity. She could handle a few bruises, deserved them even.

He followed close behind, the heat from his naked body stroking her, tempting her to find comfort in more than just his arms.

“I’ll have Cassian heal you right away.”

“No.” She spun, bumping into his finely sculpted, splendidly masculine body. An ache to touch him, to lose herself in a riptide of lusty pleasure, slithered up from her moistening sex into her belly. “The bruises will heal on their own.”

He gripped her elbows, large hands careful not to touch the purple marks on her arms, and held her fastened to his body. “I won’t let you suffer unnecessarily.”

She wriggled, trying to jerk loose, but his fingers didn’t budge. “You don’t get to dictate what I do with my body. Let me go. Now.”

His unflinching gaze pinned her. His exquisite blue eyes hardened to black diamonds.

He was actually attempting to use physical strength to overpower her will. The nerve, after misleading her, using her.

Rage sparked through her hot as acid. She slapped his chest, arms, any flesh within reach, refusing to give in to any more orders. When her palm struck his face, a crack so loud resounded that she froze.

Still he held on to her, stoking her bristling indignation and fanning the flames of her desire. Pressed against him, the towel tickled her hardened nipples. The growing thickness of his erection rose up in invitation.

Without thinking, she kissed him hard, needing to have him. His fingers loosened from her arms. She shoved her hands in his hair and drew more of him into her mouth. Savoring the taste of him, licking his lips, sucking his tongue.

The towel around her dropped to the floor.

He lifted her body with one arm, clutching her so tight she could barely breathe. She hooked her legs around his waist to anchor her pelvis to his, her arms wrapped around his neck. A hot hand cupped her buttock with urgent force. She moaned at the biting pleasure.

Their bodies slammed into something, knocking the breath from her mouth as he took her, tearing into her hungry, wet sex with one rough stroke. She dug her nails into his back as he thrust up inside of her, over and over, rocking them against a wooden post of the bed.

“Harder,” she cried.

He bent his knees, then drove between her thighs with force. He bucked up into her, and she writhed helplessly. So close to release. Huffing, he thrust faster until their locked bodies toppled onto the bed.

Without slowing, he pumped at a frenetic pace, driving her wild. She arched her back and tried to rock her hips, wanting to take every thick inch of him deeper. But the angle of their bodies, her spine pressed into the edge of the bed, kept her pinned.

She shimmied up toward the middle of the luxurious bed, urging him to move in unison by tugging at his hair so as not to lose the throbbing feel of him stretching her for even a second.

Leaning back on her elbows, she splayed her thighs wider for him. Clearly he had something else in mind when he lifted one of her legs, crossing it in front of him to flip her body without breaking their connection. He gripped her hips and yanked her backward, tight against his scorching groin, filling her.

Her aching sex clenched around him.
 

On her hands and knees, she gyrated, needing friction, needing more heat, needing him to thrust back and forth until she peaked.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.
Yes.

Along her neck, he kissed and sucked, licking up to her earlobe. He withdrew, sliding out of her, only leaving the plump head of his shaft inside. Spirited fingers found her breasts, squeezing, kneading, teasing.
 

She tried to get relief by humping him, but he held her in submission. Hair locked in his fist, breasts exposed to his whims, her sex dripping wet and starved for more pleasure.

When she thought she couldn’t take another moment of torture, ready to beg him to fuck her, he rammed deep. One fluid motion that made her gasp.

Before she could take another breath, he pounded into her slow and deep, his balls slapping up against the engorged nub of her sex.
Yes.
She moaned and squirmed on his pistoning shaft, took her frustration, disappointment, and poured it into their surging stream of energy.

“Harder!” she demanded, needing the pleasure and the pain. “Don’t stop,” she muttered between ragged breaths. ”More.”

With gusto, he obliged. His enthusiasm took over with fierce intensity and she wanted to melt in the power of his passion. She yearned to be consumed by him, but also to feed off the pulsating energy radiating from him. As he hammered into her, he gripped one of her thighs and a breast, pinching a pert nipple. Heavenly pain that satisfied—a whimper tore from her lips.

Electric fire raged, urging her, commanding her to make it burn brighter.

She slammed her hips back, grinding against him. He spread her knees farther apart and penetrated her even deeper, spearing her to the core. All thought erased. All sorrow drowned. All fears washed away in sweet oblivion.
Yes, oh please, yes.

“You’re so tight…feel…so good.” Cyrus groaned.

Sweat dripped from him onto her back and buttocks. Grunts of restraint cut through his panting. She could feel him swell inside of her as he leaned forward, on the verge. Both so close.

Delicious tremors rocked through her, building, deepening. He clutched both of her breasts with savage possessiveness, riding her with abandon. Each thrust better than the last. Wicked pleasure coiled in her belly and tightened like a fist.

She threw her head back, surrendering all she had to wave after wave of ecstasy, and opened her eyes, breathless. A blue field of energy surrounded the bed. An electric ball of plasma with threads of crackling light. The charged bubble expanded, growing with each exhale. She sensed it emanating from her midsection, the source just beneath her navel. The field of light vibrated, slipping beyond her control.

Rising panic dissolved in the blaze of rapture that seared her soul.