Kindred of the Fallen (43 page)

“It’d be best if we didn’t couple until you decided what type of contraception you’d—”

Rising on her tiptoes, she planted her mouth on his, silencing him with a kiss. “I’m working my way through all this. Being a mother still frightens me, but loving you, making love with you, creating a life that’s a little of you and little of me doesn’t, if that makes sense. I want to share everything with you, give you all I have to offer. I want to marry you, be sealed officially as mates. Let’s do it here under the gazebo before we leave. I don’t want to be your consort. I want to be your
uxora
.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

“I never thought it possible to feel so much love. To carry your joy and your pain as my own is the true gift, not my
ingenium
. For as long as your soul exists, in this world or the next, I’ll love you. I’m ready to take this great, scary, beautiful, thrilling leap with you, regardless of where we might land.” Her fingers curled around his hands as she led him to the bed.

She sat him down and knelt in between his legs. Her nails ran down his hips to his legs as she kissed up his inner thighs. Her hair brushed him, tickling, teasing.

Hard as steel with an erection, he longed for release. She took him into her warm mouth, loving him with licks and kisses, suckling him.

Groaning, he strained not to come. His fingers dug into the silky bedspread as his head tipped back. His muscles spasmed, taut from restraint. He seized her by the waist, drawing her up before him, and embraced her, licking her navel. She leaned forward to meet his lips, and her sweet tongue slid into his mouth, plundering him, conquering him with each stroke.

Her essence permeated his flesh down to the marrow of his bones, possessing him.

She let her robe fall to the floor and straddled him, throwing her legs around his hips. Settling down gently, she took him inside her hot, wet sheath. She was so tight he throbbed, ready to spill.

He thrust up inside of her, drilling her as deeply as he could. His fingers bit into her buttocks, driving her down. A throaty moan of satisfaction rolled from her mouth. She swiveled her hips, riding him, squeezing him, urging him to relief.

Streamers of blue-white light swirled around them. Their bodies locked together, swooning in harmony. They moved and breathed as one.

All barriers dissolved as electric threads stretched beyond their energy stream, connecting the very core of their beings. Deepening to incandescent cords, spreading like radiant flames until no separation existed, they melded as one. The edge where her body, her anima, her soul began and his ended slipped away into nothing.

Pleasure swelled, rippling through them, surging and cresting as they came in unison.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Serenity hung her wedding dress in the closet, radiating pure joy. Talus had helped her pick it out. Not a big, white marshmallow kind of dress—it was a perfect gown of pale gold that came down below her knees, strapless in a lightweight material. Talus had found a gorgeous shawl with intricate embroidery of flowers in yellow, rose, emerald and burgundy to go with it.

They had seven more days until the new moon, but had decided to wed in four.

Refusing to worry or fret about the unknown, she went downstairs to find Cyrus. He sat in the great room with ankle propped on his knee, barking some kind of orders at Abbadon.

Mrs. Carter ambushed her in the foyer. “If I’m going to bake a wedding cake, it’d be wise for you try some samples,” Mrs. Carter said, in a hushed tone. “Just don’t mention it to Abbadon. I think the cake should be a surprise for him.”

“Whatever you make will be fine,” Serenity insisted.

“It’s been so long since I’ve baked a decent dessert. I already have some cupcakes for you to try. Go sit while I get them. Cyrus is in there waiting for you.”

“Okay,” Serenity said, crossing the threshold into the room.

Cyrus extended his hand, reaching out for her as he looked at Abbadon. “I don’t care how you do it. Just find her. I want Lysandra dead before we leave.”

Abbadon nodded on his way out.

Serenity sat on Cyrus’s lap and draped her arm around his neck.

“Mrs. Carter has had me sequestered in here and won’t stop whispering about cake until you decide what you want,” he said.

“Don’t you mean until we decide what we want?” she asked with a smile.

“Of course I do,” he said.

As she nestled close, he undid her top button and kissed each breast.

Mrs. Carter hurried inside the room, carrying a tray of cupcakes and two forks. She kicked the doors closed behind her as if worried she might be spotted with the contraband.

“This is the first time I’ve made any kind of dessert in this house, so I need you to be honest,” she said, setting down the tray of frosted cupcakes.

“That’s not true,” Cyrus corrected. “You made an apple pie once for Cassian and Talus.”

Mrs. Carter pressed a palm to her cheek, and her gaze shifted down, as if she were thinking. Seconds later, her face brightened and she laughed. “Oh my, you’re right. They ate the whole thing out of the pan while it was still warm and it was after that Abbadon put the kibosh on sugar. Looking at you now, it feels like yesterday. But I’m sure later, when I go look in the mirror, I’ll remember how long ago it really was.” She smiled.

“You should remind Abbadon it’s time for your bonus check,” he said lightly.

“I’d prefer to know your youthful secret,” she said honestly, but in a playful tone. “I could sure use a sip from that fountain of youth you’re drinking out of.” She touched her wrinkled face.

“Diet and exercise. That’s why we stay away from sugar.”

“Time even marched across Jack LaLanne’s face,” she replied, with a devilish smile.

“Don’t forget to ask Abbadon for your bonus.”

“Sweet boy, you’re too good to me,” Mrs. Carter said, backing up to the door.

“No, you’re too good to us.”

Mrs. Carter smiled and left, waving. Serenity picked up a fork and looked down at the cupcakes with glee. He caressed her thighs and desire simmered in their stream.

“Mrs. Carter doesn’t know what we are?”

“Not exactly, but she knows we’re different. Then again, she’s different. Not like most of the factotums who have worked for us for generations.”

“What kind of a bonus check will she get?”

“The usual twenty-five grand.”

“That’s some kind of a bonus. Does she get one every year?”

“Yes, except for the year she found out Cassian was a healer.”

“What happened?”

“He healed her cancer. When we tried to give her the bonus check that year, she refused to accept it.”

“I miss him. I wish he could be here to see us get married.”

“I miss him too.” He rubbed her back. “Please eat some cake so Mrs. Carter will stop pestering me about it.”

Abbadon knocked on the door. All color had drained from his face and he appeared unnerved. What could possibly rattle a boulder like him? Certainly not the sight of cake.

The other warriors gathered in the foyer. Whispering buzzed in the hall.

“Gifts from Seshata,” Abbadon said in a dazed way.

Icy dread swept through their energy stream, prickling Serenity’s skin. She looked to Cyrus, not understanding what was wrong.

“Well, send her envoy in,” Cyrus said, sliding her from his lap to the sofa.

“No, brother, you misunderstand. Seshata has brought the gifts herself.”

Cyrus sprang to his feet and stood still as a mountain. “An immortal has come here?”

His anxiety cascaded through her in a burning itch as if a million fire ants skittered over her skin, nipping at her flesh. She dropped her fork on the table.

A woman glided through the doors with catlike grace. As she breezed by Abbadon, he bowed from the hip. She wore a fur-lined leather coat and gloves. Underneath, she had on a purple outfit with gold embroidery and an impressive gold necklace with gemstones that covered her neck and collarbone.

Two soldiers walked in behind her and moved to either side of the doorway, holding guns. The woman smiled as she drifted in.

Striking hazel eyes, delicately outlined in black, scanned everything. She had a smooth, olive-tone complexion, not a pore or wrinkle. Her countenance was kind and warm. Long, dark hair flowed freely down to her waist in lustrous sheets. An ethereal glow emanated from her entire body. She was flawless, a regal jewel, and Serenity couldn’t help but stare at the great immortal’s luster.

Seshata stood before Cyrus and extended her hand. He dropped quickly to one knee and kissed her leather-clad hand.

Based on the greeting she’d received from the warriors, Serenity quickly realized the enchantress before them was much higher in the hierarchy.

Seshata embraced Serenity gently, kissing her on both cheeks. A perfume, rich with the scent of a flower Serenity had never smelled, curled around her. She didn’t want to let her go, but the goddess floated over to the sofa across from them.

Cyrus got up, then sat. “Serenity,” he called.

She looked down at him, smiling. A deep crease ran across his brow and he indicated she should sit. She nodded and sat beside him.

“Greetings,” Seshata said in a melodic voice, oddly reminiscent of wind chimes. “It warms my heart to see the two of you sitting before me.” Her voice was thick with sweetness. Serenity had never heard such eloquent diction, not even from Cyrus.

There was something unearthly about her. Actually, it was everything about her, from her aura to her posture. She sat erect, beyond poised—a radiant, breathtaking statue come to life.

The fiery sensation of ants gnawing on Serenity’s skin intensified. She looked at Cyrus with an annoyed face. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or nervousness coming from him, but it was distracting.

“Leave us,” Seshata said in a soft tone and raised her hand. Her soldiers and Abbadon left, closing the door. “My time here is short, so I must be brief. I have come because there has been a great outcry amongst my seers,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

“What have they seen?” Cyrus asked suspiciously.

“The images vary greatly, but they have visions of a Blessed union of the Fallen.” She paused. “Your union.”

“How many of your oracles?” he asked.

“All of them,” she said nonchalantly. “This type of event is unparalleled. Have you heard nothing from your Triumvirate? The oracles of Herut do not see you?”

“I haven’t had any news from House Herut.”

The sting of his lie bit deep, but why was her mate lying? And why hadn’t he shared whatever he’d learned from Herut?

“Well, my seers are exceptionally talented. It must be difficult for the other Houses.”

Cyrus held Serenity’s hand. She was certain it was fear radiating from him. It was so clear, she couldn’t ignore it. She looked down at the cupcakes and felt herself being yanked forward out of her enthralled trance.

“What exactly have they seen?” he asked.

“One kept repeating Valhalla, but that’s inconsequential now. The theme is the same amongst them.” Her face was solemn, but there was no emotion in her eyes. “A great war is coming. It has been on the horizon for some time. Lines have been drawn,”—her gaze sailed to Serenity—“and allegiances forced over the years. It will be upon us soon. They have visions of great bloodshed amongst Kindred. They see darkness and a world set on fire.”

She shifted her gaze between Cyrus and Serenity. “I have come to offer you both an invitation to House Aten,” she said, smiling. “Serenity, your bloodline has great ties to my House. We would love for you to come and discover your heritage. Your grandparents, Aurora, Marius and Dayanara can’t wait to meet you.”

“What about my mother? Is she at Aten?”

The smile slipped from Seshata’s face. “Your mother has not set foot in my House for many moons.”

“Do you know what happened to my parents?”

“Happened to them?” Her hazel eyes danced with a glimmer of emotion for the first time.

“When I was five, my mother disappeared and my father was killed.”

“We called Sothis to serve, more than twenty years ago. She came to us and stayed at the behest of her mother, Aurora, to give our invitation appropriate consideration. She declined to serve Aten. When she left, she told us she was going to return to you, her family. If not with your parents, where have you been all this time?”

“I grew up in Manhattan, in foster care.”

“A Blessed fledgling amongst humans.” Serenity couldn’t tell if Seshata found the idea brilliant or revolting. Her voice was too well balanced to determine which emotion was wrapped around the words, and once again, her eyes were empty and cold.

“Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill my father?”

“Only your mother would know for certain.”

“There’s something about my father’s death that doesn’t make any sense.” A gust of apprehension brushed her. Her arteries constricted and pressure throbbed at her temples. She glanced at Cyrus, whose eyes were fixed on her. Suddenly, she was unsure how much to say or not to say, but decided to leave Neith’s name out of it. “The coroner’s report we found showed a gunshot wound to the back of his head, but I clearly remember that he killed himself. I can still see it like it happened yesterday.”