Reckoning (30 page)

He was watching me keenly, his signature smirk having lifted his lips. “I’m glad to have that affect on you…”

Then he was gone, leaving me to dress while he prepared his men based on my premonition, one that was steadily becoming a nagging persistence.

I headed for the dining hall wondering whether I’d encounter Felix and Rufus’s friends when I took a detour.

It was a sudden decision and not one consciously made. Something deeper down was driving me, an urgency to hold my sword again maybe. Recalling back, whenever this had happened in my previous lives, I’d allowed myself to go with the inspiration, to follow my subconscious and it had always ended in the same situation…with a sword in my hand. This time was no different, realizing that I had been heading for the weapons room.

Inside, the armament was nearly empty, with only a handful of weapons suspended on the walls and far more hooks hanging empty. Remembering the fact that every one of the Alterums in the dining hall had carried some sort of weapon, I understood why this room stood vacant and pillaged.

Still, one sword in particular was hard to ignore. It had been left untouched, cleaned until it shined even in the dim light.

My sword, the one that I carried with me in battle, had been left alone. Somehow I knew this was a sign of respect by the Alterums, again I was quietly humbled.

Taking it from the wall, I lifted it above my waist, resisting its weight and the slight ache it caused to my wound. I practiced a few techniques, realizing I was faster and more in control than I thought I’d be.

Smiling with relief, I strapped its sheath to my waist and slipped the sword in and then turned to leave.

Magnus leaned against the door, his arms crossed casually, his eyes dancing with laughter.

“
Just couldn’t help yourself?” he asked with his gruff voice.

I shrugged, snickering at myself. “It was calling to me.”

“
Mine does the same.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and motioned me to follow him. As I did, he spoke and led me through the passageways towards the courtyard, “The blade you hold was used by Ignatius, a fellow comrade now comfortably retired to the afterlife. He is one of the best swordsmen I’ve known, different from the Alterums here and more like you.”

“
Oh?” I muttered, intrigued. “How so?”

“
He doesn’t take orders from anyone.”

“
Hmm…”

After a fleeting look at me, he grinned knowingly at me. “Didn’t think I knew that much about ya, did you?”

Chuckling I admitted it with a quick, tilt of my head.

Magnus stopped suddenly and rotated at the waist with a quizzical look. “He’d be proud to know you carry his weapon.”

“
I’m proud to carry it, Magnus.”

He nodded once, firm and in approval, and then opened the door to the courtyard.

There, amidst the clanging of swords and grunts from those in exertion, morning practice was being held. It stopped as we stepped through the door, all eyes watching me as I walked with Magnus towards Eran, who stood against the wall also watching me. His expression differed from the awe the Alterums held. Eran’s was filled instead with a hesitant expectation.

“
Figured you could use one more instructor…” Magnus offered to Eran as we reached him.

“
I’m not sure I agree with you, Magnus,” said Eran, surveying me.

“
I’m ready,” I reassured him.

I was certain of it. My instinct had led me to the weapons room, the same feeling that told me danger was coming very soon and that I would need to be ready for it.

“
Rest if you need to, Magdalene. Don’t push it,” he suggested, already anticipating I wouldn’t follow his advice. Still, he shouted to the rest of the Alterums, his voice booming through the yard with commanding presence, “Drills!”

They promptly returned to their training and I took up position as an instructor. The Alterums had advanced in their skills but they held back with me until I couldn’t take enough of their timidity. After an abrupt assault on the largest of the Alterums, one that Magnus had introduced to me the night before named Christianson, he landed with a heavy thud against the back wall, stunned. After that eye-opening interaction with me, he fought hard and unrelenting. The rest followed suit and I was encouraged by the end of the day that they would no longer allow me the courtesy of sympathy.

Later that night, after dinner, I stood on the top of a turret overlooking the dark countryside surrounding the Alterum’s fortress when Eran addressed it. He’d been momentarily relieving Campion from his sentry duty.

“
They were soft with you,” he noted.

“
Not for long.” I grinned.

He chuckled. “So you are feeling better?”

“
Almost entirely. A little stiff sometimes when I move in the wrong direction, but overall I think I’ve healed quickly.”

“
You have,” he agreed fervently. “I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone heal at that speed, Alterum or human.”

“
Not even yourself?” I asked, tracing the remnants of a scar along his forearm. He trembled under my touch.

“
No,” he said, his voice quivering with the surge of excitement at my touch. “Not even myself.”

I enjoyed hearing it and kept caressing.

“
I think my body is trying to heal itself before…” I stopped myself.

“
Before the Fallen Ones attack us again,” Eran finished the statement for me.

“
Yes,” I said tightly, sorry for bringing it up. I removed my hand from Eran’s arm to absentmindedly brush it across the rough edge of the turret’s stone wall. “I-I want just one night for the Fallen Ones not to invade my thoughts.”

I looked up at him. “Do you think that’s selfish?”

His eyebrows curved upward. “Not at all. Magdalene, if anyone deserves a night of rest it’s you.”

“
I just…” I sighed, for once allowing my frustration to show itself. “My intuition, the feeling that our enemies are planning something, hasn’t ebbed and yet…here we are at the end of the day and we haven’t seen a single one.”

“
You’ve been struggling with that unnerved feeling all day, haven’t you?” he asked with a frown.

I lifted my lips in a half-smile, affirming it.

He lifted his arm over my head and slipped it around my shoulders, the weight of him soothing me instantly.

A scuffing of feet broke the solitude around us and we turned to find Campion coming over the wall. He stooped on the edge of the turret briefly assessing us. “Am I disturbing something?” he asked, tentative.

Eran shook his head, though I sensed that wasn’t an entirely honest response. Campion must have felt it too because he was hesitant stepping down to the inside of the turret.

As Campion’s wings retracted, he crossed his arms and raised his shoulders, both signs of awkward embarrassment. He wouldn’t even raise his eyes to us.

Eran looked down at me, his eyes soft and searching. “Come with me?”

I felt my eyes brighten at his suggestion.

His appendages unfurled behind him and I responded with my own extending outward and readying for flight.

We nodded good night to Campion and lifted ourselves towards the inky sky, going so high that lights shining from within the fortress disappeared entirely. In the far distance, after a wide swath of blackness, London sprawled like a shining cluster of diamonds.

When we stopped to hover, the wind in our ears fell away and we were surrounded by silence. Only the intermittent flap of our wings, keeping us aloft, broke the silence. The air was still, with no hint of a breeze, and a chill surrounded us but it was welcoming.

“
The last time you asked me to fly with you…you proposed,” I said, insinuating.

He tilted his head back and released a hearty laugh before swinging around to face me. His hands reached for my hips to lie lightly against my waist, a touch that made my heart leap.

“
Would you like me to propose again, Mrs. Talor?” he asked, genuinely interested.

Now it was me who laughed. “I imagine it was tough enough the first time. I wouldn’t want you to suffer through it again.”

“
It was tough,” he acknowledged. “But only because I wasn’t sure of your answer.”

“
And that…that still amazes me. How could you not have known?”

He shrugged and I realized I was witnessing a rare moment when Eran was unsure of himself.

I reached up to place my hand against his cheek, something that caused him to inhale sharply, a surge of passion rushing through him. It was quick, but I noticed it.

“
It will always be yes…” I whispered, lightly kissing his lips…

“
I will always be yours…” I continued, kissing along his jaw line…

“
And I will always be by your side…” I finished, kissing his neck.

Intending that to be all, thinking we would stay a few minutes longer, pass the time quietly holding hands, caressing each other with a brush of our fingers, until it was time to return, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

A fleeting look, after drawing back, told me this with certainty.

I’d started something that had set off a chain of events inside him. His jaw was now clenched against the passion surging through him. His breath was lodged somewhere inside, stilled by the power of his reaction. His eyes were pulled shut as he battled to contain his emotions.

When they opened they were pleading, but not with me. He was begging himself for a reprieve, to allow himself to toss aside his idealized dream to create the perfect night of intimacy. Being that we’d only been together once before, I understood his persistence for it. But here, at this very moment, it paled in comparison to what we were feeling, to what we each wanted.

“
Please…” I whispered my own longing showing.

It was all he needed.

He released a sigh of relief, taking my face in his hands. His lips were intense, soft, exploring as if he’d never experienced this part of me.

I arched my body against him and he moaned in favor of it. Arching deeper, pressing harder, my hands came up his hips, rippling over the contours of his muscles, lifting his shirt higher.

Then we both realized the same thing at once.

Our shirts couldn’t get passed our appendages.

We pulled back, our mouths slack, drawing deep breaths.

“
Retract your wings,” I exhaled in a rush.

He did, rapidly, as I held him with one hand and pulled the shirt over his head with the other, letting it fall through the night sky below us.

His appendages snapped back then, keeping us aloft as mine sank back in.

Eran’s arm returned to my waist with an iron grip as his hand slipped underneath my shirt. His fingers moved firm and gentle up my waist, lifting the edge of my shirt higher and then paused briefly as they reached the raised skin marking my injury.

At risk of losing him to his more conscious side, I kissed him, soft at first and with increasing intensity, releasing him only when his hand began to move again.

I knew my shirt was off when the cool air hit my body and my muscles contracted.

Eran felt my reaction and pulled away. His expression was alert and concerned. Instinctually, his eyes scanned the length of my body searching for the reason behind my quiver. Finding nothing, he moved to return to me when he realized exactly what he was evaluating. Pausing, he openly stared at me in the dim light of the moon.

I realized then it wasn’t just the cold but the abrupt realization that I was in front of Eran with my shirt floating down towards the English countryside that had caused my reaction.

This was the moment he’d been waiting a century for, had patiently restrained himself for until it was the perfect time. It was a lot to live up to and I wasn’t certain I could meet his expectations.

I’d never been with anyone but him. I’d never even kissed anyone but him. How could I deliver on something so perfectly defined in his imagination, his most pressing desire? I didn’t want to fail in this. I couldn’t.

He was still gazing at me as I was consciously aware that I might actually disappoint him.

Then he swallowed tightly and what he whispered next consoled me more than anything in the world could have.

“
You’re beautiful.” The words seemed rushed, as if he too were suffering from jitters.

My inhibitions, so powerful just seconds ago, were thrown aside and when I pulled him to me the wanting smile he wore gave me confidence that there was no possible way I could let him down.

Our limbs wrapped around each other, fitting perfectly with the other’s body. His hands, so large they nearly spanned the length of my back, pressed me to him, caressing me, exploring me. Slowly, with great awareness, his hips pulled back and gently slid forward…

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: INFILTRATION

My hands lay limp atop Eran’s shoulders as my forehead rested against the curve of his neck. My legs, now dangling and exhausted, tapped him every now and then, although he didn’t seem to notice.

I couldn’t see his face but I’d heard the moan and I’d felt his body shutter just as my back had arched. I’d felt him just as certain as he’d felt me.