Stone's Kiss (32 page)

At the soft prick of his teeth, all resistance melted away and she went limp under him. He loosened his hold on her neck and then licked at her shoulder. She made a small sound of appreciation and rolled her hips against him. At the feel of her pressed close, lust surged to the forefront of his mind and he nearly forgot his plan.
Think, dammit
, he cursed. He held on to rational thought by slim little threads.

Oh, yes. He remembered. Forcing her to take more of his weight, he leaned over her and licked a trail along her spine, then up onto muscle of one shoulder. One quick nip and the heady tang of her blood coated his tongue.

The courtship ritual had begun.

He didn’t wait for her to recover from her shock before he bolted into motion. If she wanted to court him, he’d let her do the chasing. But he would decide the direction of the pursuit; a direction which would lead her back to Clan and Coven lands, where he hoped to get the aid of Gran, Greenborrow, Silverthorne and the other fae to overpower Lillian. Once she was imprisoned, he’d have time to worry about what to do with the demon.

Gregory bolted across the clearing and into the treeline. He glanced back once to be certain she followed and glimpsed a flash of black body and burgundy mane as she raced a hundred paces behind him. Good. She’d fallen for the bait. He slowed his pace to allow her to get closer, then when she was nearly upon him, he lengthened his stride and gained ground.

The sun trekked westward as Gregory continued the game. His plan was working, they’d traveled a goodly distance. However, he detected a problem with his plan. While Lillian–the–gargoyle had healed all his injuries, he still lacked one important thing. Stamina.

It was well into late afternoon when his strength failed.

****

Gregory was leaning against a tree for a short rest when she caught up.

“I thought you’d let me catch you much sooner than this. Perhaps I was a touch too aggressive with my courtship.” Lillian’s voice drifted to him from the shadows to his left. “Would you be more comfortable with a familiar face?”

By the time he turned, she was already engulfed in an intense glow of power. When spots no longer flashed before his eyes, he found Lillian standing before him, naked, all pale skin and beautiful hair dark. His lady. The dryad he’d fallen in love with all over again in this life. But, as much as this alluring creature looked like his love, he knew her allegiance was to the Lady of Battles.

“Gregory, I offer what you’ve always wanted.”

“And what I can never have. I’d be killing Lillian myself if I did. The Lord of the Underworld is nothing like his sister. He has never failed to carry out an edict of the Divine Ones. If I got Lillian with child, he would send every last gargoyle to hunt us down. Demon, think beyond what the Lady of Battles wishes you to be. Can’t you see the truth? You won’t live long enough to carry the child to term.”

Her lips curved into a smile that spoke of assured knowledge. “The Lord of the Underworld isn’t infallible. He has weaknesses we can use to our advantage.”

“Perhaps you honestly can’t grasp what I truly want.”

“Your Sorceress.” She tilted her head to the side, no longer looking so haughty. “Perhaps the Lady of Battles made a mistake when she created me. A gentler being, one who needed your protection might have had an easier time seducing you.”

“A gentler demon?” He laughed, the sound cold and humorless to his own ears.

“You’ll find I’m very adaptive … and I already know your greatest weakness.”

“You don’t know me.” He turned and loped away from her.

“Gregory, once I have fulfilled my duty, I will return to the Black Kingdom and this body will revert to the personality you know and fell in love with: your beloved dryad.”

“Nothing you say will change my mind.” He whirled back around to face her, angry enough to challenge her.

“Ah, it was a mild hope. But I see you’re not interested in the easy path.” She smiled as she combed her fingers through her hair. The dark strands fanned out across her shoulders and drifted down over her breasts. She toyed with her hair a moment more, then caressed the upper swell of one breast. The fingers of her other hand trailed leisurely down her abdomen. “That suits me well enough. I like the hunt.”

He swallowed past the dry lump in his throat. When his earlier decision to leave evaporated, he reminded his traitorous body that no matter how much this creature looked and sounded like his Lillian, it was not her.

The creature controlling Lillian’s body stiffened. Color drained from her skin. She sucked in a ragged breath, one of pain not pleasure. When he glanced up to her face, he saw her eyes held the unfocused look of deep concentration.

“Lillian?” he whispered. A small spark of hope kindled in his chest. “Lillian can you hear me?”

Lillian opened her mouth and screamed, a sound of horror and despair. She grasped at her side and doubled over. She swayed, then slowly collapsed to her knees. Gregory’s desire vanished between one heartbeat and the next as his blood chilled in his veins.

Chapter Twenty-five

“Lillian.” Gregory called her name as he leapt forward. Catching her in his arms, he gathered her close to his chest. When he touched her, he felt the demon soul within her seeking the spirit link to Lillian’s hamadryad. The great tree shuddered under another blow as metal bit into her bark.

An axe. Someone had taken an axe to Lillian’s tree. The demon soul released control of Lillian’s body and focused all its attention upon sending strength to the tree in a frantic attempt to heal it.

Nothing the demon soul did could protect the hamadryad over such a great distance.

“Gregory?” Lillian stiffened in his arms. A whimper escaped her and she shuddered. “What’s happening?”

A cold lump of dread, like a frost–chilled stone in winter, weighed heavy in his stomach. He tightened his arms around her. “Lillian, don’t give up. Fight. I’ll carry you back to your tree. I’ll heal you.”

“My hamadryad … I’m dying.” She sucked in another short, pain–filled breath. “Let me. The demon dies with me.”

“No.” With that one word he denied the Divine Ones, the Lord of the Underworld—death itself. He would not serve, not this time. He would not stand by and watch Lillian die.

Cold reason slid over his emotions like a calming blanket. He focused his mind. “What kind of battle are we about to land in the middle of? Can you tell how many are in your glade?”

“Not sure. Only one, I think.” Her answers came in short, pain–filled bursts.

Gregory ached just hearing her soft gasps. But what she said made no sense. It would take at least five powerful demons to break the new stone circle. But it didn’t matter how many enemies were awaiting him in the glade; he’d fight a thousand Riven for the chance to save Lillian.

“Easy now,” he whispered and lifted her into his arms. She weighed so little, as if the loss of her magic was leaching her of substance. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He leapt into motion, and spread his wings while he ran. With the thunder of wing beats, he left the ground and flew toward her dying hamadryad.

****

He circled the hamadryad’s pyramidal canopy, scanning the ground below as he flew lower. The tree shook with each new blow, but he couldn’t see who was wielding the axe. The foliage was too thick, the branches too wide near the base. The rest of the clearing look empty, free of other visible enemies. There was no scent of demons or vampires. And the stone circle still stood, untouched. It didn’t make sense.

Four feet from the ground, he folded his wing tight to his body and dropped down onto his hind feet. He deposited Lillian behind him and whirled on his prey.

Partially obscured by the Redwood’s branches, a slim figure wielded the axe.

As the axe connected with bark in another powerful blow, Lillian cried out. Reason fled before the all–powerful need to protect his lady. He lunged, talons of one hand poised for a killing strike. Sable turned to him, the axe lowering. His blow caught her across the throat.

Blood drenched her pale dress.

The axe slipped from her fingers and she stumbled back against the Redwood’s trunk. Instinctively, she reached to cover the deep gash across her throat, trying to stem the flow of life blood. She locked gazes with him and attempted to speak. Blood flowed from her mouth instead of words. Panic shone in her eyes, but something else too: deep sorrow.

“Please,”
she whispered into his thoughts.
“I have an unborn child. The Riven know the location of my tree. If I don’t kill Lillian’s hamadryad, they’ll kill my baby. Please. Save my little girl.”

He couldn’t lie to the dryad and tell her he’d save her child—he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to save Lillian and himself. “Lillian killed most of the Riven. Those still living are on the run. They’ll not have time to hunt down your child before the Clan and the Coven dispatch them.” Perhaps she could take comfort in that.

Sable slid sideways and collapsed to the ground. Even in death, the dryad Elder retained her grace.

“May peace find you,” he whispered.

He returned to Lillian and gathered her up in his arms. She was unconscious. Naked, she looked small and fragile. He didn’t like the sickly pallor of her skin. He was running out of time. Fear dug icy talons into his stomach. Everywhere their bodies touched, he sent healing magic into her. After a few minutes she regained consciousness, a look of confusion on her features. She touched his cheek. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

“I feel strange,” she said, her voice groggy and slurred. “Am I drunk? No? Damn it, I’m dying again, aren’t I?”

He leaned forward and nuzzled her, feeding her more strength as he did so. She returned his caress with shaking fingers, her touch a brand against his shoulder. Her thoughts whispered of her love. He pressed their bodies together and began weaving between the ground–sweeping branches of her tree.

Branches shifted and the feathery needles brushed at his arms. They continued to spread until there was a space for him to stand close to the buttressed trunk. Bark pulled back like a seam unraveling, and a fissure opened in the Redwood’s trunk.

A touch here and a slight push there, and he guided her closer to where he wanted her. He continued to show her how a gargoyle made love with gentle bites and soothing licks as he pressed her back against the tree.

“Relax,” he whispered into her hair. “This will come naturally to you. Simply give yourself up to your tree. When you are healed, come back to me. Do you understand?

“Um … I’ll come back,” she said, sounding like she was on the edge of sleep. “You’ll be waiting?”

“Always.”
In this life or the next.

“Goodbye, my gargoyle.” She closed her eyes and gave in to a dryad’s instincts, her face becoming tranquil. As if a gale blew through the meadow, the Redwood shuddered, shaking its branches as the fissure in its trunk widened. Blood–red fibrous vessels, fine as a spider’s web, enveloped his lady’s shoulders and crawled across her lower body. Then the cavernous maw swallowed Lillian, pulling her into the tree’s embrace. Her arms fell away from him. He held her hand in his for a moment more, a final caress, before he let her go completely.

He stared at the tree for a long time after the bark had smoothed over. His heart ached. Dread held him in place. His reassuring words to Lillian did nothing to sooth the chaos of grief and fear in his own soul.

She could still die. Her hamadryad had sustained near–fatal wounds, greater than even what dryad and demon together could heal.

There was one final thing he could do for the tree. Bowing his head, he began reciting a blessing in a deep chant. Drifting into a light trance, he slashed both wrist and allowed his blood and magic to drip down upon the ground. He continued to chant as he walked the tree’s perimeter. His powerful heart began to labor as more and more of his blood slashed upon the grass and dirt at the Redwood’s base.

“Drink,” he whispered feebly to the hamadryad. “Feed. Grow strong. Then one day return my beloved to me.”

Lightheaded and shivering with cold, he leaned against the trunk to rest. His thoughts were blurring as his mind began to shut down.

His heart faltered. The little blood he still possessed retreated from his outer extremities and his skin grew hard and cold. He stumbled toward his old pedestal and half–collapsed upon the sun–warmed stone. His dying mind noted the random details. Pitted gray stone. A few patches of fuzzy moss. He ran his fingers along the greenery.

As he settled upon the pedestal, his thoughts strayed back to Lillian. He brushed her sleeping mind one more time, sending a wave of love and reassurance to her.

“Live,”
he whispered into her mind.
“Even if I do not.”

And then the last of his heat bled from him, hardening his skin to stone. Darkness claimed him.

Chapter Twenty-six

Chilled air struck her belly, the fingers of cold invading farther into her dreams of warm bedding and soft pillows. Its next strike fell upon her chest and face. The sudden, cold slap shocked Lillian fully awake. She gasped, dragging in a deep breath. The first lungful of air burned down her throat. Spasms tightened her lungs. She gasped and choked with deep retching coughs.
What? Had she just swallowed an entire swimming pool full of water?

She tried to force open her eyes, but the lids were heavy and stiff. Clumps of damp hair swung across her face, the strains stuck together by some kind of goopy slop. Her coughing subsided. Slowly her lungs stopped burning. Another gust of cold caressed her thighs, then lower, creeping down her legs a few inches at a time. The rest of her body was as limp and uncooperative as her eyelids. She felt empty. Cored out.

Worse, her sense of balance told her she was upright, but slumping forward, inch by inch. She couldn’t move her limbs to fight the slow workings of gravity. Whatever was holding her up seemed to be letting go.

With nothing else to do, she waited, barely daring to breathe. A slight tingling encroached upon her silent, unfeeling world. It started in her shoulders and worked its way up her neck. Feeble energy stirred.