Protector of the Flame (23 page)

Abbadon stood. “How will it help me protect them?”

“We are exposed and must work against the sands of time,” Neith said. “The only way to save them and all of us now is to call for a session of the Pesedjet. You must convince them to convene out of order to raise the issue of a blood grievance.”

“What’s a blood grievance?” Serenity asked.

Terms and decisions whizzed by too quickly to grasp everything. Her mind and blood swam in the delirium of being reunited with her
kabashem
.

“When someone seeks the life of another, the aggrieved party has the right to have his complaint heard before his Council. If the grievance is between persons of different Houses, the complaint must be heard before the Pesedjet, before the Council of all three Houses. A vote is called on whether or not the life of the aggrieved should be protected and spared. It is an archaic bylaw, but it may be your only hope now.”

“I should be the one to call this blood grievance,” Cyrus said.

“No,” Neith said with razor firmness. “You must stay here. Your House may call the blood grievance on your behalf. Abbadon will return to Herut and speak for you.”

Mira returned with a book the size of an unabridged dictionary wrapped in a velvet satchel.

Neith touched Abbadon on the shoulder and gave it to him. “You must not tell anyone you have this. It will betray the fact I gave it to you. It would be a violation of my neutrality. Keep it secret for as long as you can. Create excuses for your knowledge.” She guided him to the door. “Do you know the face and name of every warrior that came with you?”

“Yes.” He held the satchel to his chest.

“Be certain you have them all before you leave. If anyone is unaccounted for, you will stay until they are found. Tell your Council Serenity wasn’t here, but I’ve agreed to help Cyrus find her. And that he must do so with a small party lest he be caught. It will be difficult—” she shot a sharp glare at Cyrus, “—but you must make them believe it.”

Neith faced Soren. “See that Ximena gives him homing pigeons to carry his messages back to us.”

Abbadon and Cyrus grasped forearms and exchanged a look.

Serenity went to her old mentor and hugged him. “Thank you for everything. Be safe and convincing.”

He squeezed her shoulder, saying more with the deep emotion in his eyes than he ever would with words. Fifty of Neith’s sentinels followed him out.

“The tension of your arrival was unfortunate,” Neith said to Cyrus, “but it’s my duty to protect all who dwell here.”

“There’s no need for an apology.”

Neith narrowed her eyes to stormy gray slits. “I did not apologize.”

As Cyrus drew in a breath, Serenity saw it in his face, in his posture. The other side of him he kept under lock and key, the groomed politician. “Thank you for your caution.”

“Your error in judgment has decimated my plan and put us all in great peril. Now, I must make preparations for contingencies that should not have been necessary.”

“It was unavoidable,” he said, defiant certainty resonated.

“Pray my neutrality holds, for it’s all that keeps death from my doorstep.” Neith’s shoulders relaxed, face resuming her emotionless façade. “Do you need food or water?”

“The others could use something.” Cyrus looked at Serenity. “For now, I only need to speak with my wife in private.”

“Serenity, would you like to use my office or would the accommodations of your room be adequate?”

“My room is fine.” The ache to rip off his clothes and have him deep inside of her pounded in every cell of her body, rushed through her blood, heated her skin.

“Very well. Sothis will help me ensure the others are seen to properly.”

Serenity led Cyrus by the hand through the crowd, which now parted easily. They interlaced fingers and proceeded up the walkway. She expected him to glance around as she’d done when first arriving, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

Her energy stream bubbled and sloshed. Connected to his, their reciprocal flow invigorated. Unable to wait until they were behind closed doors to touch his lips, her mouth gravitated toward his.

The sweetness of his breath made her sigh in his mouth. When she opened her eyes, blue-white threads of electricity flowed between them.

She caressed his weary face, soaking in the sight of him. He looked like a military soldier in his black fatigues and combat boots.

His mouth curled into the sexiest grin, dark eyes flickering sapphire. “Where is your room?” he groaned.

Holding hands, they hurried up to the second floor. She led him down the hall of her sector to her tiny room.

Once inside, he kicked the door closed and cupped her face. He thrust his tongue into her ravenous mouth and lapped at her energy stream. Fingers curled through her hair, gripping her with the ferocious hunger she yearned.

She unbuttoned his long sleeve shirt and yanked it off as she kicked away her sneakers. His mouth closed on hers, his hands everywhere until her top and bra were on the floor.

Hot electric pulses rippled through, making her wet. He licked her neck, kissing the hollow of her throat, down her chest and to the valley of her breasts.

Too long they’d been apart. Too long since she last enjoyed his body, his heat.

She stepped on the hem of her pants and worked them off in a shimmy.

Tugging at his belt buckle to release his hardened cock, she wished she had another set of hands to touch more of him. She pushed him up against the wall, pulling his black T-shirt over his head and froze.

She stared at a symbol of a single line twisted into three interconnected ellipses, a flame at the center, tattooed over his heart. Her lungs forgot how to draw in air as she traced the lines spoiling the perfection of his body.

A shadow shrouded her soul. Her mind reeled as comprehension sank in.

“I had no choice.” He stroked her cheek. “It was the only way the Council would allow me to leave. You knew I’d accept the call to serve someday.”

Someday, yes. Before she understood what it truly meant, understood how service must come first in one’s heart and life. It wasn’t simply the Paladin way.

It was the Kindred way.

Herut had claimed him, usurped her and relegated their love to second place.

She swallowed hard, dropping her hands.

For a moment, Cyrus had been all hers. He would’ve put her before every other flame that burned. But she gave him up, gave him back to Herut and went to Aten.

His Council had the foresight to entrench their claws and mark their claim.

He cupped her face. “You’re still first in my heart.”

Did he even realize that was a lie? Now he’d die for them—live for them—above all else.

Tears stung her eyes. In a watery blur, she stared at the mark on his chest. They even placed it above their shared birthmark on his ribcage. Sorrow clenched deep.

His lips covered hers, and she shut her eyes. He lifted her into his arms and put her down on the bed, pressing his hot muscular body into hers, caressing her face.

Electric rivulets of desire cut through regret. She pushed down his pants and guided his thick cock between her parted thighs.

As he entered her, she whimpered, not ready for his girth after so long.

He eased himself in and she raked her fingers through his wavy hair, grabbed his head and pulled his face to hers.

At the delicious ache of him stretching her, she moaned. Spasms of lush heat spiraled, coiling through her so tight it almost hurt. Quivering, she rode the peak building, mind drifting in a euphoric haze. Bodies entangled as one.

Then she opened her eyes and remembered.

She stifled a sob in the warm granite of his chest. Her best efforts to outgrow her weakness, to give rather than take were to no avail.

She wanted all of him to be hers.

He kissed her tears, pushing her mind to empty with each hard thrust of his cock. Bittersweet pleasure rippled bone-deep.

In the blinding wash of aching need and insatiable desire, she let herself go.

A tidal wave of rapture consumed her. She shuddered to climax and wept.

He took her in long, sensual strokes, cradling her head, her damp face in the crook of his shoulder until he groaned in deep satisfaction.

For all their pleasure and all their love, never again would she be first in his heart.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I have absolutely no idea what time it is,” she said exhausted. At some point, he’d kicked the clock during their lovemaking, smashing it against the wall.

Cyrus stroked the hollow of her neck, most likely marveling once again at how the necklace had been removed.

“I could care less what time it is, I only want a proper bed,” he complained, the lower half of his body on the floor and the top half snuggled next to her on the mattress he’d pulled from the bed frame.

“It’s important to keep track of the time here. They only serve two meals.”

“There’s fruit all over this island. We’ll send Talus out to pick something.” He played in her hair.

“That’s not how it works around here. Everyone is treated equally, except for Neith and…” She swallowed Adriel’s name.

“And?”

“And her favorites.” She kissed his cheeks and forehead, pulling the sheet up to cover the blight on his chest. “I think we’ve missed dinner.”

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded. “My body has succumbed to Neith’s schedule. I get hungry like clockwork.”

“I’ll go pick us some fruit. Can’t be against rules if I do it myself.”

“You?” She leaned up on her elbow.

“I’m quite capable of picking a few bananas and apples to feed you.”

“You’re capable of a lot, but you have limits as to what you’re comfortable doing.”

Cyrus kissed her forehead. “I can handle fruit.” He threw on his black uniform, sat on the edge of the bed frame and laced up his boots.

She wrapped a sheet around her body and kissed him as he left.

The room was a shambles. Fixing it without a larger one to move into was pointless. He’d only tear it apart again in an effort to get comfortable. She needed to speak with Neith about new accommodations. She dressed quickly.

No one stirred in the hall. As she walked toward Neith’s sector, showers ran in the communal lavatory. She knocked on her door and waited. It couldn’t have been late enough for her to be asleep. She knocked again, louder.

Neith had an uncanny ability to be in several places at once, making it difficult to ascertain her exact whereabouts at any particular time. She moved about the island like a ghost, always watching, checking, keeping a close eye on its inhabitants.

Serenity made her way up to the library, her next best chance. No luck. The office was empty. She circled through the workstations and meandered to the Egyptian calendar.

Each day had a hieroglyphic forecast depicting good, bad and significant dates. The three seasons were outlined in black and five days at the end of the year were highlighted in red. Her gaze fell to her birthday, marked as a significant good day. It could’ve been coincidence, but things in her world seldom were.

“I missed you at the evening meal,” Neith said, sneaking up behind her.

Serenity spun. “You startled me.” Her racing heartbeat slowed. “Is everyone settled in?”

“Yes, Sothis was very helpful.”

Serenity turned back to the calendar, remembering her mother’s birthday, the last day of Akhet. “What’s today’s date?”

Neith pointed to a square on the calendar.

“Tomorrow is Sothis’s birthday. Would it be possible to have a cake? I know Kindred aren’t big on sweets, but we used to celebrate with a cake and candles when I was little.”

“You wish to honor her by celebrating the day of her birth?” Neith asked.

“Honor?” Serenity shrugged. “I just thought it’d help her remember the happy times we shared as a family.”

“It can be arranged.”

“I have something else to ask.”

Something similar to a laugh, but darker, drifted from the ancient beauty. “Why am I not surprised?”

“My room is a bit cramped with Cyrus. I need something larger and preferably with a window.”

“Double rooms with fresh air outlets are limited.”

“Like the one Adriel has?”

Neith’s eyes flashed the steely color of iron. “Sector five, last room on the left.”

Serenity smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight.” She walked away.

“Young firebird,” Neith called and Serenity turned around. “Adriel is a tender spot for us both. It would behoove you not to use him against me again.”

Serenity’s smile faded along with the joy of her short-lived victory. She nodded and hurried from the library. She rushed to her room, threw her stuff in her backpack and tidied up.

Cyrus returned with spoils from the orchard filling a pillowcase, just in time to put the mattress back on the bed. “I prefer the mattress on the floor where I can stretch out.”