Kindred of the Fallen (42 page)

“I’ll see you out,” he said to Drake.

Serenity waltzed down the stairs, aglow and freshly showered with damp hair, in jeans that kissed her curves and a clingy purple top that made her caramel skin pop. Her scent teased and roused the most sensitive spots of his body. Desire surged through him in hot, cruel waves. His phallus stirred, aching with desperate need. When he felt the blistering grip of fiery passion earlier as he held her, he wasn’t sure, thinking her absence or her brush with death had driven him wild, but now it blazed through him with blinding certainty. She was in heat.

“I don’t want you in here. Did Micah let you in?” he asked.

“I did,” Abbadon said, coming down behind her.

“What are those two floozies doing in my house?” she asked.

Cyrus couldn’t restrain the smile from rising on his face. This was the first time she had referred to the house as hers. “They’re with Drake and they’re leaving.”

Drake slithered up to her. “So this is what beautiful smells like.” He extended his hand.

Serenity’s brow creased and Cyrus pulled her close into his body.

“I’m quite safe to touch while wearing gloves.”

“Please excuse me if I don’t,” she said.

“No hard feelings,” Drake said. “I’m used to it.”

“Micah,” Cyrus called up the stairs. Micah poked his head around the corner. “Please escort our guest out.”

“Always a pleasure, Cyrus. Do call upon us again sometime soon.” Drake whistled a little tune on his way out.

“I’ll get started,” Spero said.

“No. I want Abbadon to question him.” His old friend had blood-curdling skill as an interrogator.

Abbadon crossed the hall to the tool room.

Cyrus stroked Serenity’s shoulder. “You should leave. I don’t want you down here.”

“Why not? Whatever he says concerns both of us.”

“Things will be done. It’ll be unpleasant. I don’t want you to watch.”

Abbadon came out of the room wearing latex gloves and carrying a tray of instruments designed to cause pain.

“You’re going to torture him? Why? I didn’t think that would be necessary after Drake.”

“Drake’s gift will only induce him to tell us the truth and serve as a lie detector. We still need to persuade him to talk.”

“You’re going to torture him, then kill him. Where’s the line, Cyrus?”

He bristled at his mate’s human sensibilities. “When it comes to keeping you alive and safe, there is no line. Now, go upstairs.”

Her chest rose at the order.

“Please,” he added to soften his last words.

Biting her lip, she hesitated. He didn’t want her to think of him as a tyrant, but he wasn’t going to let her stay under any circumstances.

A scream erupted from the back cell. Just like Abbadon not to waste any time.

“If you’re doing this for us, for me,” she said, “I should know the details of what’s involved. Even if it’s ugly, I can handle it.”

He heaved a sigh and hoisted her over his shoulder. “You do know what’s involved, but you don’t need to see it.” He carried her up the stairs as she slapped his buttocks and wriggled like a snake, driving his burning need for her body into a raging inferno of lust. He dumped her in the hallway and slammed the door to the security room. She pounded on the door, demanding he open it. “You’re not to let her downstairs,” he said to Micah.

On his way back to the holding cell, he clenched his hands into fists, straining to squelch the heat of his desire. He could still smell her. The scent invading him, setting his skin aflame, every nerve ending sizzled. At the bottom of the stairs, he leaned against the wall and struggled to gain his composure.

The scout hollered. Pushing off the wall, he headed down the corridor toward the cell. After a few bloody minutes, his mind would be clear.

Serenity curled up on the chaise in her room and stared out the window. Cyrus was right, she did want it all—safety, security, her business, the environs of New York City, thrilling sex, and a lifetime with her soul mate, all on her terms, no compromise required.

She’d known from the beginning having him would come at a price, but she’d been unprepared for the magnitude of the cost. Overwhelmed was more like it.

Everything happened so damn fast without giving her a chance to catch up.

Life apart from him would be an unbearable hell she could not endure. And life with him would be fraught with endless peril until the soul of the Fallen was made whole, a child born, putting an end to the curse. Death would just keep coming for them until then, but together they could make it. Regardless the sacrifice or toll to be paid, Cyrus was worth it.

She just had to show him she had the fortitude and resilience to handle whatever might happen and the strength to make sacrifices.

Facing the scout and her mortality had been just what she needed to conquer her fear of it. Perhaps it’d be the same with motherhood. Dive in and meet the challenge head on.

Ravenous hunger for Cyrus twisted inside her, knotting tighter. Oh the sweet ache. Molten rivulets of desire pumped through every vein. The need to couple with him blazed in her mind, sweeping through her body straight down to her womb.

All she had to do was give in to her desire—her love—again and again. She didn’t want to be a mother, but she wanted to give him all she had to offer, to have a part of him growing inside of her. She couldn’t deny her urgent yearning to join with him, connected in every way, and feel him spill his seed. Even the thought of it now made her flesh burn.

She only needed to do one thing.

Surrender to love.

Early morning light filtered through the stained glass window on the landing of the stairs. Cyrus climbed the steps to his room, drained from the interrogation. The scout had not easily broken, only cracking after hours of agonizing torture. His resistance had been impressive considering how little he actually knew.

As he passed his
kabashem’s
door, heat flared in his loins, but he pressed on to his room for a cold shower. He locked his door and ensured the other passage between their rooms was sealed tight. Stripping off his clothes, he let them hit the floor, leaving a trail behind him.

His pool of energy poured into his mate’s and a blast wave of primal heat slammed into him. He stopped, staring at his bed. A lump under the covers stirred, moving. He crept around to the side of the four-poster bed.

Chocolate curls cascaded over the pillow. Tawny arms poked out from the sheet as she moaned, turning over into the middle of the bed. Damn her.

He could wake her and kick her out, but she’d only protest and he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Wiping his brow with the heel of his palm, he considered leaving, but it was his room. He wasn’t about to slink away and hide from her. This was his room, his bed, and he was strong enough to resist her. He got under the covers, staying close to the edge and far from her tantalizing warmth.

Plenty of room for both of them. Not like this was some twin size bed where he had to be pressed up against her silky soft body. He gripped the sheet, his whole body tight as a fist. He just needed to relax, let the fatigue hit him and he’d fall asleep in no time.

Serenity’s head twitched as she whimpered, tossing in her sleep. As if she knew that he was there, she rolled toward him, but stopped inches from touching him, flat on her back and fully covered. Thank goodness. Not that he couldn’t handle it, but he didn’t need the aggravation after the day he’d had.

Her arm flopped out to the side, the back of her hand landing on his stomach, oh so close to his groin. Wicked desire skyrocketed through him, exploding in every cell of his body.

He pushed her hand off of him. Her head turned as if she might wake and her fingers skimmed his leg, sending crippling shivers of need through him. She rolled onto her side, her arm staking claim to him as she drew closer until her heavenly body pressed into his.

The feel of her warmth felt so good. No harm in snuggling with her until he drifted asleep. He lifted his arm and tucked her smoldering body in close while staring at the ceiling. She nuzzled into him, curls spilling over him, her cheek pressed against his chest.

He buried his face in her fragrant hair, inhaling the heady perfume. Her lush rosy scent, mixed with mimosa had deepened, growing earthier, spicier, peaking to this ripe, rich, rousing fragrance. He drank in the smell of her. Yearning seized him. Her time of
esuratus
wouldn’t last much longer. It’d be so easy to claim her right now, seal their fate, keep her with him, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—take her like this.

Her head twisted and turned while she slept. Her hand slid to his pelvis as her leg glided over his thigh. She moaned and rocked her hips.

“Cyrus.” His name left her lips in the shadow of a whisper.

She was dreaming. Even in her dreams she wanted him, the need searing her subconscious. The biological urge to copulate must be compelling her to satisfy her body.

Rubbing her moist sex against his leg, she mewled as if begging for relief. His erection already thick and long pulsed. Oh how he wanted her.

His hand slid from her shoulder, along the side of her soft breast to her waist, hooking on her svelte hip. His other staked claim to the shapely thigh pressed against him, his fingers kneading her tender flesh. He brought her closer, clamping her to his side, supporting her as she bucked and writhed, striving to bring her some satisfaction. His swollen cock was engorged with such fierce need it hurt. Curled around him, shuddering, she purred in orgasm.

Every muscle tensed till he shook, straining not to ravage her, praying he didn’t burst.

She tossed in her sleep again, whispering his name. Need whipped him, urging him to take her. Desire clawed through his muscles, tightening in his groin…aching pressure shifted to throbbing pain. Sheer agony.

Heart thudding, he jumped out of the bed, unable to maintain his restraint a moment longer. He stumbled to the window and took deep breaths. A cold shower would soothe him, but he’d have to move, pass the bed, and get close to her heat. If he so much as looked at her again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

The sun inched higher, the landscape changed under the variations of shadow and light. His suffering hadn’t eased. Her sweet smell filled his pores. He could taste her in his mouth. She yawned in the bed, rustling the sheets.

Egg yolk light coated the room by the time she padded over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her fingers stroked his chest as the silk of her robe caressed his back, setting his spine on fire. Rigid as stone, he could barely breathe, strangling from desperate yearning.

“What did you find out from the scout?” she asked.

Her safety. Her happiness. Her welfare.
He needed to focus on this to stay in control.

“He didn’t know why or how Sekhem’s Triumvirate suspected we might be together. They were sent to conduct surveillance. If any of the scouts confirmed I’d found my mate, they were directed to only take action if an opportunity to eliminate one of us presented itself. When they spotted you, the two battle-guard warriors used the scouts as bait to separate our warriors and leave you vulnerable.”

She tightened her grip on him, her desire coiling around him, hooking into him.

“They didn’t get a chance to report back to Sekhem that we’re together,” he said. “But all of the teams have to report in by the new moon.”

“What happens if they don’t?” she asked.

He broke free of her grip and walked away. “They’ll send more battle-guard. I have to leave Valhalla before the new moon in nine days. Don’t worry. Sekhem doesn’t know for certain about you and they don’t know about your tattoo shop. I’ll have the situation with the mercenaries resolved by then. Even if I have to take down all of Gallacom to make it happen.”

“Cyrus—”

“And I’ll leave warriors behind to watch over you, to make sure you’re safe. You’ll never even know they’re there.”

“Cyrus, there will always be something, some new danger, some new threat—”

He spun around to face her. “I can give you your life back. I can fix this. I know you have every reason to doubt it, but I can keep you safe.”

“My life is with you.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous for us to stay together unless we go to Herut. And the pressure for redemption would be unimaginable. You have no idea what you’d be subjected to, the lengths they would go to—”

“Cyrus, I can’t go back to a life without you.” She placed her hands on his chest. “My soul and body longed for you every day, before I even met you. To be cast out into the wilderness without you would be worse than death.”

“I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”

“I’m choosing you. I’m choosing this crazy life with you. Death has haunted me since I lost my father. Seeing Cassian struck down terrified me, but when I faced that warrior from Sekhem, I fought to stay alive so that I could get back to you. Without you, nothing else matters. The chance to touch you, to love you is worth risking a hundred deaths.”

She took his hand and tugged him toward the bed. Two steps and he stopped.