United Eden (21 page)

I felt the table shake before a gust of wind rushed over me as I was lifted from the table, away from Johns advancing palm and into the arms of the man I thought Id lost. Despite the speed of it and the bodies I could hear readying themselves, I let myself get lost in how his skin felt warmer against mine, how his arms seemed stronger, how his face was endlessly beautiful.

Flipping off the table and ending at the other end of the bal room, he turned back to the center of the room, glaring at John. Not. Another. Finger, he growled. And in case my face leaves anything to interpretation . . . Wil iam turned it straight on John, an expression that could have dropped me had I been on the receiving end. Im going to kil you today.

One of Johns eyebrows peaked. Was that a threat? he said in a tone that was a stage away from a yawn.

No, Wil iam answered. That was a promise.

Right then, Patrick and Paul rushed at the group around John, dodging through and over the dozens of shock-faced men dotted around the room.

Wil iam set me down, staring into my eyes as he kneeled beside me. Im pledging myself to you tonight, with or without a Unity ceremony. He smiled before he fixed his mouth to mine. So please make it a point to stay alive.

I wil if you wil , I repeated, breathless.

Deal, he said, the softness of his face out of place on the war torn Wil iam hovering beside me. Ive got to finish a job real quick. He winked, popping up to face the oncoming flood of Johns men. Do me a favor and let me take care of this, okay? he asked, charging into the avalanche of men before I could answer, which was good because I was not going to huddle in a corner while the three men I cared about most in the world were outnumbered more than twenty to one.

Especial y when I was a touch away from doling out a death sentence to every last one of these men intent on ending my meaning in life. It was zapping across my skin before I stood up and it was at ful power by the time the first man tried ringing his hands around my neck from behind.

Before his fingers had circled around, he fel to the ground. Death was a hard thing to be responsible for, harder in most instances than facing your own, but there was no other option at this crossroads. The time for sitting around a Council table and coming to a peaceful agreement had ended the day John Townsend rose to power. We were neck deep in the realm of black and white, no more shades of gray to confuse us. It was their lives or ours and in this absolute, death became an easy choice.

Two more men leapt at me, knocking me to the ground, but their fight was over as quickly as itd begun. I rol ed their massive bulk to the side, flipping off my back to a stand. There were four clusters of men scattered through the room. Three with arms moving like pistons which I assumed Paul, Patrick, and Wil iam were at the center of and one stil grouped around the table looking like scared children my direction.

Theyd seen me end three lives in under three seconds and had been stupid enough not to run.

However, I did.

Right in their direction, towards the men who had accompanied John with attempting to kil Wil iam and succeeding in kil ing Norberto. Mercy was a five-letter word they were unfamiliar with and I wasnt about to change that for them in their last few moments of life.

Charging their way, I sprung off the floor, performing head over foot aerobatics in the air until I landed in the center of their huddled circle. Al I had to do was open my arms and spin, like a bal erina of death. Their bodies crumbled to the floor, faces of shock now frozen with death.

I didnt spare a moment of mourning, there wasnt enough time or desire. Scanning the room, I tried to make out what clump of men contained Wil iam, but I was distracted by the light stalking of footsteps coming up behind me. It seemed impossible I was able to make out this faintest of noises in the earthquake of racket, but I turned right as she launched at me.

I ducked as Stel a flew over me, her hands affixing around air as she crashed to the floor. I lunged towards her, knowing whoever was the first of us to make contact with the other would win the battle of gifts. Although temporary handicapping of a gift wasnt as final as my gift. Or as deadly.

I threw myself down at her, fingers stretched to their capacity. She rol ed to the side, just missing the pinky of my left hand grazing her cheek.

There was so much rage shooting through me right now, it wouldnt have taken more than the smal est of caresses to take her out and the fear in her eyes told me it was as obvious to her as it was to me.

She leapt up, spinning towards me, ready to pounce. It was Stel a and me, cat fighting it to the end. I couldnt resist.

Here kitty, kitty, I mewed, wagging my finger at her.

She actual y hissed her reply, hesitating long enough for me to leap to a stand.

No need to let our manners get away with us, I said, as we began dancing around each other, primed for attack or to ward it off. You had to have been expecting this somewhere along the way. You know what they say. Karma is a . . . wel , for lack of a better word, karma is a Stel a, I said, a streak of black hair and copper skin catching my attention. I chanced the longest look I could, finding Wil iam and John dodging and taking each others strikes.

Okay, this whole dancing around Stel a thing needed to end right now.

And overrated is a Bryn, she hissed back, hands clawed at the ready as she took advantage of my distraction. It was almost easy and I knew I owed that al to Patrick, having the upper hand on Stel a, because as I jumped the space it took to clear her stiletto-ed height as she charged at me, it was obvious how my strength training had been to hers what fire is to paper. I flipped midair, landing on top of her shoulders. Her scream froze as I laced my fingers through her hair, her body losing its rigidity before it tumbled to the floor.

I didnt stop to check or pause to rejoice. Stel a was dead, but it wasnt her life I was concerned with, it was the man who gave meaning to why I was fighting. Wil iam and John werent in the back corner theyd been in just a minute ago and as I scanned the room, I found it emptying. Emptying
quickly.
Some of Johns men were throwing looks over their shoulders back at me, some glancing at the more pressing threat, Paul barreling after the herd of men exiting the room.

The room was stil , eerily stil . Other than Pauls hol ering dimming as he continued his pursuit out of the doors, there was no other noise. Panic gripped me, so intense it overtook the rage keeping my gift at the surface.

Wil iam? I cal ed out, scrambling towards the corner Id last seen him. Wil iam”answer me! I hol ered, panic and desperation weaving together to create something truly overwhelming.

Im here, Bryn, he answered, his voice tight and low.

I scrambled towards his voice, skidding to my knees when I found him on his knees behind one of the marble pil ars supporting the mezzanine above. I crawled up next to him, taking in nothing but him, searching every inch to find whatever John had done to him to bring him to this fatigued position.

Im fine, my love, he assured, letting his eyes settle on me before they closed in concentration.

Whats the matter? I asked, doing another scan of his body.

If anyone ever asks, I was not your strength instructor, okay? Patricks voice cal ed out across from Wil iam. I let my gaze shift from him for the first time since finding him. Patrick was across from Wil iam, also on his knees, his face lined in concentration save for the eyes that were narrowed in mock accusation. Always mind your surroundings, he re-quoted to me, pointing his eyes to the floor. Or what, or who, is crippled and dying at your feet.

My eyes fol owed his, right into a sapphire set that were so dark they were almost black. I shuddered as I took them in at such close proximity.

John was supine on the floor, eyes and body losing purchase on Immortality as Wil iam and Patrick quivered in their efforts of drawing it from him.

John was close to taking his last glare, but Wil iam and Patrick looked nearly just as close. Id never seen either one of them so weak and straining with effort. Sweat wasnt just beading across their skin, it was dripping from it as it looked like it took every last reserve of strength to stay upright on their knees.

Let me finish him, I said, readying my hand over John, waiting for them to release their grips. I wasnt going to chance my current flowing from John into them if they were stil adhered to him.

Wil iam shook his head once. No. I promised that hed never touch you again, he said, his teeth gritted. Its a promise I intend to keep. Let us finish this.

His words touched me, but he was also being ridiculous, risking his and Patricks life when I could end this with a brush of my hand. I have the same right as you to finish John Townsend, I argued.

You have a right, but not the same right as I do, Wil iam answered, his face wincing further.

Oh, real y? I asked, about to force him and Patrick away if it came to it.

Real y, Wil iam said. John Townsend has terrorized, kidnapped, beat, and tried to kil my Betrothed, he said, grimacing from the pain or his words I wasnt sure. Im claiming my right as a husband right now.

Husband? I said, something of a smile forming in the midst of it al .

Maybe not at this exact moment, but later today. His eyes moved to mine, like they were fighting an army to get there.

I met them, locking his to mine. I need you alive, upright, and . . .
eager
if Im going to become your wife tonight, I said, wanting to put Townsend Manor in our rearview mirror for the rest of our lives, ripping it off and pitching it out the window so we wouldnt have to look back. So step aside and let me finish this business, I begged, watching his shoulders crumple forward.

I watched his mouth open, in objection I was sure, but before it could be verbalized, Johns voice hissed through his clenched jaw. Youl . . . never

. . . win, his voice dimmed, his head fal ing to the side as a whisper capped his last words, chosen one.

Something in similar noise to a sonic boom rumbled the room, flinging the three of us back. I landed on my back, aching, stil dotted with shards of crystal, and relieved. John Townsend was dead. The only place Id have to fear for seeing him again was in my nightmares, but something about the calm I felt trickling into my veins told me he had died there too.

Am I dead? Patricks voice muttered.

I dont know, Wil iam answered. Am I?

You certainly look like it, his brother answered, laughing a strained one as he sat up and took a survey of the room. Someone mind tel ing me what the hel just happened?

Sitting up, I crawled over to Wil iam, stil laying flat over the floor.

Bryn, are you alright? he cal ed out, lifting his head to find me.

Mm-hmmm, I answered, crawling over him until I was settled right above his face. More than alright. I wanted to kiss him in the worst way, but I wanted to scold him worse yet. What in the world were you thinking doing that with just the two of you? You could have been kil ed, I said, smiling through what Id intended to be a lecture.

Wil iams arms circled around me, col apsing me down to his chest. I knew we had it covered, he answered, lifting his head up to kiss me, but I pul ed back. Perhaps that one defensive move had been the most monumental Id made today.

Patrick huffed. Im glad you were so confident. I thought I was going to die. I stil feel like I might, he said, examining himself. He looked marginal y worse than Wil iam. After sucking that mans life away, I feel dirty. Dirty as in I need a scalding hot shower and pumice stone dirty.

I glanced over at him, aware that Wil iams mouth was tempting me an inch away. You are dirty, I said, inspecting him. And you do need a shower. Why dont you go take care of that? I said, hinting at the door.

Im not moving until someone carries me out, he said, flopping back down on the floor dramatical y.

Have it your way, I said, shrugging. Dont mind us. Sliding my fingers down the sides of Wil iams neck, I gripped what remained of his dress shirt.

Pul ing it to me, his head lifted from the floor, his lips responding to my subtle message. I kissed him, he kissed me, we kissed each other . . . we
consumed
each other. There was nothing like narrowly missing death to make you feel alive. To make you want to do everything youd always wanted to do.

You do realize you can get a girl pregnant kissing her like that, right, Wil iam? Patrick said, turning his back to us.

Wil iam didnt respond, but I wasnt the saint he was. Its a good thing Im on a fail-proof form of birth control known as Immortality then, I shot over at Patrick, silencing him . . . for awhile.

I turned my attention back to the man sprawled out beneath me. Did you mean it when you said youl be my husband today? I asked, my mouth leaving his to trail down his neck.

Did you mean it when you smiled your consent? he replied, happy and breathless.

Looks like today it is, I said, part of me wanting to pul him from the floor and find the nearest officiant we could and part of me wanting to keep him pinned to the floor like this. I dont have anything to wear, but the shredded, stinky pajamas hanging from my body.

His mouth slid outside my ear. I dont mind. It wil make them that much easier to remove. I gulped, but I wasnt half-paralyzed with fear like Id been at the Betrothal. I wasnt any more convinced that Id be a competent and satisfying lover, but I could figure it out. As much practice as it took. I dont have anything to wear either, but Il have the one thing worth wearing by the end of the day. His forehead slid over mine, pressing his eyes into mine. You on my arm.

Patrick let out a note of laugher. And by that you mean,
you in my bed
, he stated, making a face as he mimicked Wil iams voice.

No, thats what you mean, Wil iam replied patiently. I mean,
you on my arm
, he repeated to me, his voice bursting with happiness.

Do you think its safe to go out there? Patrick asked, lifting his head from the floor enough to glance in the direction of the lobby. Because I dont want to lift another finger in war today. Overthrowing an evil dictator is exhausting work.