Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles (35 page)

“Don’
t ever grab my hair again,
”
he growled.

A tremor of fear fluttered through her, merging with the heated desire the press of his body created. Mutely, she nodded and let go, remembering his scars.

His hands came up and brushed her cheeks, pulling back her short dark locks before kissing her again. Sighing at the rough treatment, Elizabeth was vaguely aware of being lowered to her back, his smooth flesh against hers, as he left her mouth to encapsulate her nipple with his mouth. Sharp teeth scraped against the sensitive skin blossoming moist warmth between her legs. He sucked and flicked his tongue, teasing her to cry out for more.

Lifting his head back to her face, his hair a silver curtain around them, she kissed him again, penetrating and being penetrated, all the while keenly aware of the solid throbbing length that pressed against her thigh. Reaching down she grabbed his thick shaft, its length jumping at her touch. A groan escaped him as she caressed his smooth hardness.

It was not enough. Elizabeth needed to feel him deep within her.
“
Now,
”
she gasped between their kisses.

Pulling back, with her hand guiding him, he slid into her. He was larger than her touch had informed her and he slammed into her, causing her to cry out.

Lifting her hips, she met him again. It was then she realized she lay on her shoulders, her hips lifted off the bed as he stood on his knees. His soft hair brushed against her legs as she entwined them around his slender waist. He thrust deeper, the new angle caressing her before pounding against her inner gates. The exquisite pain filled pleasure arched her back, tilting her hips with each intrusion.

Elizabeth watched him above her. Fantasy overlaid reality. Moonbeams invoked ethereal silver, causing her to gasp. Above her, within her, through her, this beautiful young man towered above like a Celtic god from her mythology books and she shuddered at the image, closing her eyes as he filled her again.

His long fingers dug into her hips as he held her to him and she felt herself tightening around his shaft. Spurred on, their pace quickened. With one hand gripping the edge of the bed behind her head Elizabeth ran her other hand over her breast, tweaking and pulling at the swollen nub. He thrust harder and she cried out.

Faster he pounded into her until the tension rolled her in convulsing waves. Within her depths she felt his pulsating release as her orgasm pulled at his, their cries mingling in their unified release.

After forever he sat back on his heels, maintaining his connection with her. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth could see the shimmer of sweat upon his skin making him glow in the moonlight, his breath coming in gasps. Surprised wonderment modeled his features. His long hair stuck to his face and body. With a shudder that she felt deep within her, Elizabeth watched him close his eyes as he folded to lay his head upon her chest. His arms slid up the sides of her torso in an embrace. Languidly she encircled him with one arm while her other played with his baby soft hair. Still deep within her, Elizabeth could feel his passion leave and wondered how much encouragement he would need to harden him for another go.

“I never knew it was supposed to be like this,” he whispered against her breast.

Elizabeth halted her stroking of his silken strands, unnerved by his admission. Virgin he was not, but his statement sent a flurry of speculation as to what else he might have endured along with those scars.

Wetness trailed around her breast.

“
Shhh,
”
she susurrated, resuming her caresses.

“I
take it that Dr. Thompson is safely home.”
Thanatos sat in his high backed leather chair staring at the blazing fire in the hearth, the logs red and glowing as they were   consumed.

“Yes, sir,” came the reply from the blond major-domo who stood by the door.

“And he has no memory of our conversation?” Thanatos frowned.

“Only that he enjoyed meeting you and discussing the aspects of medicine that lead from his speciality to yours,” explained Godfr
ey, his hard face clear of emotion.
“
Dr. Thompson was quiet elated at having made your acquaintance.
”

“You are sure he remembers nothing of the true aspects of our conversation?”

“I am sure, sir.”

“Thank you, Godfrey.”

The blonde man turned to leave.

“One more thing, Godfrey.”

Godfrey halted at the door and turned back to face his hidden employer.

“I’
d like you to track down the Angel. It seems he has been misplaced. Find out if he is staying with Paul Notus or if the lady who picked him up from the hospital has him.
”
Thanatos absently turned the silver phial that hung from the chain around his neck.
“
Let me know immediately what you find out.
”

“You wish me to wake you, sir?” Godfrey raised a brow.

“Yes, I do.”

“As you wish, sir.” Godfrey turned towards the exit, baffled at the request.

“Thank you Godfrey. You are dismissed for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the manservant as he strode out of the room.

Thanatos frowned, his fingers plying the pendant. If what he had managed to get out of Dr. Thompson was true then every hope Thanatos had could be swept away. It had not been easy to untangle the carefully constructed glamour Notus had placed
upon the good doctor, but once unravelled and the man
’
s mind was pushed to remember, details that may have seemed insignificant
became a glaring reality.

Once the ill gotten memories were gained, Thanatos craftily spun a new web tighter than Notus could have ever done. Dr. Thompson would have no memory of having met, let alone treated, the Angel and his Chooser. Thanatos
’
frown turned into a grimace with the addendum of the knowledge that the Angel was no longer Chosen. After centuries of watching and waiting, Thanatos was unsure if the opportunity he had sought was now past or forthcoming.

Releasing the silver phial to rest against his chest, he stood and walked to the fireplace. He tossed another split long onto the fire, sending crackling sparks to fly up the flue and he crouched to watch the dancing colours of gold, crimson and amber.
Occasionally blue the colour of the daylight sky would kiss the other colours
before disappearing in a brilliance of white. All the while the black of the wood was consumed by hungry heat in sun yellow.

He sighed, his breath stirring the flames. If only he knew what to do. Should he finally approach the Angel and talk with him about what he knew? Would he agree to help him attain his desire? Or more to the point – could he? Variables upon variables swirled into his mind, all leading to the question that held him prisoner since he found out about the Angel
–
could the Angel be the one to lift Thanatos
’
curse and restore the Chosen to what they once were?

Another thought crept into his mind. Scrubbing his face with his hands he stood. Closing his eyes before opening them with a sigh, Thanatos prayed that Corvus would follow his orders to leave the Angel alone. He did not want to contemplate what would happen if Corvus found out that the Angel was no longer Chosen. He also did not want to consider what he would have to do to the Vampires if they did something to the Angel.

Sitting back down in his chair, Thanatos watched the flames and waited for dawn.

On the rooftop of the condominium he had once shared with the boy, Notus sat with his legs dangling over the building
’
s edge. He watched the lights below as tears streamed down his face.

The phone rang again in the condo until the answering machine picked up.
“
Paul. It
’
s Bridget… Fernando and I are in town... Paul?...Are you there?...Paul, where
’
s the Angel?
”

A
scent, enticing rumbling from his stomach, pulled him from the depths of sleep. Eyes fluttering open, he instantly shut them against the bright daylight that poured into the guestroom. Panic caught him and he swept the covers over his head. It took a moment before he realized that his flesh had not ignited and he groaned, remembering the horrible truth that he was now mortal. The millennia born instinct to flee the light continued to grip him as he tentatively folded the bedclothes away from his head.

Yesterday the muted daylight had sent his head pounding and his skin prickling. What washed across the room was pure unadulterated sunlight that set his head throbbing through pain filled tearing eyes. The only sensation missing was the burning of his skin. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to banish the nausea that came with the migraine and got off the bed, closing the distance to the offending window. It took a couple of tries and the drapes were set free, plunging the room into relative darkness.

On shaking legs he sat back down on the bed, his head resting in hands supported by elbows on knees. Mortal or no, he still maintained sensitivity to the sun that had been beaten into him as a small boy. Releasing a shuddering breath he waited for the agony and nausea to dissipate.

Too much too soon. His existence was changing too fast for him to keep up. No longer Chosen, he had pinned his hopes on Notus Choosing him again so that their lives would continue on together. A tiny part of him should have known Notus would turn him down. To be rejected, to be called an accident – that was not what he expected. His breath caught in a constrained sob and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill.

Pushing down the dejection that attempted to overwhelm him, he heaved a great sigh and sat straight, his hair falling to drape against his naked back. With that touch his eyes widened as the memory of what occurred between he and Dr.
–
no, Elizabeth
–
swelled to the forefront.

Oh my Gods,
he thought, rubbing his face. Never had he imagined that he and Elizabeth would become intimate. Lowering his head he closed his eyes as the memories flooded back. He could not remember the nightmare Elizabeth saved him from. All he could recall was feeling vulnerable as her concern evolved into desire. He had seen that look on countless women, and men, in his earlier years, but this time it was coupled with the need to comfort.

The first kiss surprised him. Bridget had kissed him like that at Christmas and he had pushed her away not wanting to ruin the tenuous friendship he had with Fernando, but when Elizabeth told him there would be no strings something within snapped. He needed the touch, to be needed in return, anything to fill the incredible loneliness that clawed at him.

It was when he found her throat with his mouth that it hit him that there was no desire to pierce her flesh with his teeth and drink her blood. Instead he needed to devour her and in turn to be consumed. It was all he could do to constrain himself.

All was a blur of mouths sucking at each other until he felt her hand guide him. It was all he could do not to shudder his release before he entered her. Warm, moist flesh held him tight and even as he reached the ends of her depths he wanted to press further. Never as Chosen had sex felt this way, so centred upon
his need to be taken within another, the encapsulating tenderness that stroked him as he pounded into her, taking all of his attentio
n. There was no blood scent spiced with lust that teased him to drink. There was no strict control not to rend and tear flesh to reach that blessed font. Now it was all about surrounding him, pulling at him to drive deeper until her embrace threatened to never let him go and that intense pulsating release matched only by hers, sucking him further into her depths until he could go no further. He never knew it was supposed to be like that.