Kindred of the Fallen (17 page)

“Falls and throws.” He hesitated, his palms growing moist. Far more touching would be necessary than required for blocks. “You need to be able to take down an attacker and learn how to minimize your risk of a serious injury. We’ll start with throws.”

She hooked her leg around his, the way he’d showed her, but couldn’t quite land the technique to throw him. Delicate hot fingers curled around his biceps and electrified his blood. She pressed her thigh into his crotch, rubbing her leg against his groin, trying to flip him again.

When his phallus stirred, he withdrew. “You’re not getting it! We’ll try falls.” He turned his back. If he couldn’t stay focused, he wouldn’t be able to teach her vital skills to keep her safe.

“If you ever fall on hard ground, it’s going to hurt no matter what.” He faced her. “The trick is to surrender to the inevitable, keep your chin pointed toward your chest, and don’t tense your body.”

He cradled his hand at the base of her neck and the other on her hip. With his leg cocked behind her, he threw her slowly to the mat so she had a feel for the movement. Her hands stayed fastened to his arm as she stared at him from the floor. A tangle of desire and sadness pierced him, pinpricks of emotion all over his body. Her desire. Her sadness.

He lifted her, unable to let go. Warring with himself to kiss her or release her, his hand settled in the small of her back.

“Are we going to do it again?” she asked.

“Yes, but faster.”
Faster.
He had to zip through the movement to simulate a real attack. It was also the only way he’d be able to keep his focus.

Steeling himself, Cyrus threw her, with no regard for her pain. She had to learn.

Breath expelled from her lungs in a gust. She rolled to the side and stood. He grappled her, flinging her fragile body to the floor. Without complaint, she recovered. The cycle repeated, over and over. Her reaction needed to be ingrained, a natural reflex.

Without giving her time to prepare, he knocked her to the ground. She neglected to keep her chin down, tilted toward her chest. Her head smacked against the mat.

“Get up. Next time practice what I taught you. Your enemy isn’t going to wait until you’re ready to be hit.”

Groaning, she wriggled on the mat, holding her head. She pulled her legs into her stomach and curled into a fetal position. What had he done?

He dropped to his knees and checked her with frenzied fingers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her body uncurled as he examined her head and neck. “I’m sorry. I was too rough,” he said, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

She blinked slowly. Her eyes finally rested on his face. She grew still, palms pressed into the mat at her side like she was afraid to touch him.

A rosy glow warmed her face. Beads of perspiration trickled from the crook of her neck, guiding his attention to the crevice of her heaving bosom. The scent of her arousal titillated him, fueling his hunger for her. She drew her legs into her body, feet on the mat. Her knees splayed out, as if prepared to receive him—a perfect flower in bloom ready to be plucked.

He wanted to snag a finger in the strap of her top and yank it down to take her breast in his mouth. To rip off her pants and mount her, stuffing his aching phallus deep inside. He should take her right now, and maneuver one step closer to breaking the curse. Drawing her scent deep inside, he could tell she was not yet in her fertile time of
esuratus
. A hasty moment of copulation could ruin everything, if she regretted it after and withdrew, still conflicted by Evan.

She licked her lips and placed her hand on the birthmark on his chest, sliding her fingers down his stomach toward his erection.

He lowered his mouth to hers. “I want you free of that human attachment,” he growled.

Her fingers froze on his waistband and her dark lashes fluttered.

Cyrus got to his feet and towered over her. To couple with her while she wore another male’s symbol of love would be a mistake. Uncertainty bled through her touch, and that same doubt might drive her away at the crucial time when she was ready to conceive and he needed to claim her.

As she sat up, she cringed. “Evan has been in my life for sixteen years.” Her voice was a whisper. “You don’t get to dictate to me.”

His heart throbbed, threatening to implode. Anger flared, white-hot venom rushing in his veins. “Do you think you can have a future with the human? Do you still want him?”

She didn’t answer. She only looked at the floor.
 

After everything, she still wanted the human. He stormed out of the gym without a glance behind.

Chapter Eleven

Serenity stared at the sparkling rock on her left hand, with tears stinging her eyes. Overnight her entire life had changed. The world had changed. She wasn’t even human.

She ripped the ring off her finger and threw it across the gym. In the pit of her stomach, she always knew agreeing to marry Evan had been a mistake. She’d said yes, thinking it was time to truly accept the life she’d made, but something had kept her from setting a wedding date.

Entangled, with no way to move back to what she and Evan had once been—loving, platonic friends—she couldn’t see a way forward without hurting him.

And now she’d gone and thrown away a ring he’d spent thousands on. She lumbered over to a rack of weapons, where the ring had landed and scurried around on her knees searching for it.
 

Something gleamed in a corner beneath a spear.

She bumped her head on the wooden rack, grabbed the ring and stood. Without pockets, she had no choice but to put the ring back on. This time she slipped it on her right hand. She loved Evan, even though she didn’t want to be his wife, and owed him respect, not betrayal.

She wanted Cyrus so much it hurt, but he was controlling and manipulative, and since she’d met him, she’d only been in the crosshairs of danger.

Heavy with frustration, she faced the field of poles in the middle of the gym. Instead of treadmills and regular exercise equipment, there were log poles, about fifty, driven deeply into the ground. The heights varied, but they were at least five feet high. The fitness center really was the size of a large barn with at least a thirty-foot ceiling.

She traipsed beyond the poles and out of the gym.

The sun beat down on her as she staggered up the grassy knoll, trying to stretch the aches and pains from her body. The courtyard at the center of the U-shaped manor shimmered like an oasis. Bejeweled lanterns, hanging from hooks affixed to the ochre walls, swayed in a breeze. To the right of a fountain, comfy patio furniture wrapped in front of a fireplace. She noted doors around the periphery and entered through the indoor pool room.

Floorboards didn’t creak as she explored a wide hall. It was a house built to last and weather any storm. Although it had been marvelously maintained, it didn’t have a brand new sparkle. She stopped in front of a great room and peered inside. A massive, half-moon, carved fireplace in pale gray marble drew the focus of the room with a sofa on either side, and two large chairs facing the hearth. Plants, knickknacks and easy chairs filled in the rest of the space.

The house had the luxurious feel of a resort, but the warmth of a home. She wandered further down the hall into a room with tea green walls. Cushions in neutral shades were scattered across the floor, a grand panel of glass overlooked the manicured garden and an impressive waterfall fountain made of brindled brown marble with copper trim covered the entire back wall. It was the piece de resistance of the house.

As she turned to leave, she noticed Abbadon sitting shirtless in linen pants with eyes closed, meditating. So quiet and still, it was as if he’d been cloaked. She crept toward the door on her tiptoes.

“Please join me,” he said, eyes still closed.

She winced. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Reluctantly, she sat across from him on a soft cushion.

“Welcome, most favored sister.” He folded his hands and bowed from the shoulders. “As I have sworn to guide and protect Cyrus, so shall I do the same for you.”

She didn’t know what to do, so she put her hands in Namaste and bowed back.

He opened his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to get started with our first lesson. I’m going to help you master self-control by training you to expand your consciousness through meditative practices. We need to raise the vibration level of your energy. By the time we’re done with your training, you’ll have achieved the self-realization that you are an energy being.”

She scratched her birthmark on her neck, not understanding a word he’d said. “Cyrus didn’t mention a lesson with you.”

“Just before he left the estate, he said you were ready. I checked your room, but found you on the security camera in the gym. You looked as if you needed some time to yourself.”

“Cyrus left?” Alarm sharpened her voice. “Where did he go?”

“He didn’t say.”

She squirmed at the idea of Abbadon knowing they’d had a lover’s spat. But they weren’t lovers, she reminded herself.
 

“How was your evening?” Abbadon asked.

“Are there cameras in my room?” No need to tell him about her evening if she’d been watched.

“There are no cameras in any of the bedrooms.”

“It was a long night. I had a great deal to think about.”

“I’ve never met one of our own who has grown up away from the collective. How unbalanced you must feel.”

“I guess it sort of feels like walking on sand for the first time.” She only hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be quicksand.

Abbadon gazed at her with curiosity. A jagged scar over his heart blighted his smooth chest. Below his sternum, three lines snaked into a knot. A fracture ran down the middle.

“Are all Kindred marked?” she wondered.

“All bear marks to help them find their
kabashem
, but only those with one of the thirteen marks of the Fallen are considered Blessed.” He directed her attention to a framed print hanging on the wall of thirteen symbols drawn in fanciful, artistic strokes characteristic of calligraphy. Her birthmark was the seventh symbol. “All Kindred know the sacred marks of the Fallen.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“You may ask me any question,” he said.

“Have you found your
kabashem
?”

He smiled, but his cheeks resisted and the ends of his mouth flattened. Wisdom and despair swirled in his gunmetal blue eyes. “Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“She serves House Sekhem,” he spat the last word as though it had coated his mouth in filth.

“Why aren’t you together?”

“My
kabashem
lives her life in opposition to all I hold sacred. They practice an unorthodox way with regards to mating, taking partners of convenience, sometimes choosing not to mate with one’s
kabashem
at all. I believe it’s about exercising their freedom to choose, rather than have fate dictate it for them.”

She nodded in silent agreement. The freedom to choose was crucial. Her attraction to Cyrus was as irrefutable as a bullet to the head and her blossoming feelings for him ran deeper than she cared to admit, but she didn’t buy into this soul mate, predestination crap.

“She will not leave Sekhem and I shall serve Herut for all my days,” Abbadon said. “It’s an obstacle we’re unable to overcome.”

“Don’t Kindred need to connect with their
kabashem’s
energy stream to inoculate them from the dark veil and blood rage?”

“Inoculate? I’ve never heard it described that way, but yes. The connection to the anima or energy stream of one’s
kabashem
need only happen once, even briefly, to stave off the affliction. Prolonged connection sustained over years increases our vitality and lengthens our lifespan. Those of House Sekhem will seek out their
kabashem
for inoculation
,
but seldom for anything more. Rather than follow the dictates of the Creator, they wish to choose.”

“What about the yearning you feel for her?” Separated from Cyrus, her thoughts centered on him, her body cried out for his and her stream sloshed in withdrawal.

“Some principles and beliefs are worth self-sacrifice.”

“What about love?” Did they all feel this inexplicable tug at the heartstrings for their
kabashem
? If they did, how could they resist it?

“The love I bear for House Herut, for my brothers and sisters, is greater than the love I have for my
kabashem
,” he said easily.

Serenity shuddered at the thought.

“Open your mind beyond human constructs. Dare to see the world with Kindred eyes.”

A human construct was all she had. For now, she wasn’t complaining. It was probably the only thing keeping her rational. The shadowy world of Kindred had a precarious edge where a blessing was a curse. She didn’t want to rush into anything. “At least you don’t have to worry about dying in some freak accident like Cyrus and I do, just because we’re Blessed.”

“Freak accident?”

“Cyrus said the other three Blessed couples died in tragic accidents.”

“Those events were tragic, but they weren’t accidents. They were murdered. Cyrus knows this. He must have withheld these facts because he didn’t want to frighten you.”