Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) (20 page)

It was peace, settling deep within my chest, a feeling of rightness. It made me whole, and it threatened to tear me apart. A longing so intense it was painful tore at me, and I knew I would never get enough of her. I could never leave her. It would always be Emily.

Emily
.

I realized I’d spoken then, murmured her name, and she gasped.

“Did you feel that?” she whispered.

We sat pressed together, face to face, but it was as if our souls were suddenly seamed, bound so tightly as to be one.

“It’s the bond,” I said.

She stared at me in stunned astonishment. “It’s like, like my insides are tied.”

I automatically gave her space. “Is that what it feels like to you?”

I could hear the worry in my tone, and I realized I’d been afraid of what it would be for her. None of the elders had known how the bond would affect the chosen, what it would do to one without our power.

Panic slammed into me.
What if it has enslaved her? Like the sway
.

She blinked, searching my face. “No, it’s like… Like lacing up a good pair of running shoes—”

The fear waned at her denial, but when her words sank in, the short-lived determination to hold my expression faltered.

“… that feeling, when you have them good and snug,” she said, her gesturing hand falling to rest over my heart. “That security.”

My chest eased. I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth. I cleared my throat. “Did you just compare our bond to running shoes?”

She stared at me a moment, searching for a better comparison for something so indescribable. Her brow curved speculatively. “A five-point racing harness?”

I laughed, and then pulled her closer. The words felt right in the old tongue, and I knew she would understand them. Loosely translated, the sentiment was something like, “love’s embrace,” as I spoke them low, to the only woman who would ever hear them again.

Her skin flushed and she repeated them back before leaning forward, suddenly desperate for another kiss.

Chapter Twenty-five

Strategy

We lay together, my thumb pressed into the crook of her elbow, fingers wrapped around her skin, while my lips traced feather-light kisses down the line of her jaw.

“Aern,” she whispered, trying to bring my attention to the insistent knock at the door.

I released her arm and slid my hand lower, to the bend of her knee, drawing it firmly over my hip. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, pressing slow kisses to the delicate skin below her ear. “Nothing else matters.”

She sighed, but it was the wrong kind of sigh. She pressed a hand against my chest to look at me, a grimace forming on her perfect lips. “I’m afraid it does matter,” she said.

I waited, fighting the urge to continue my explorations.

“It’s Morgan,” she said.

I cleared my throat. That was a mood-killer. “What do you mean?”

“The knife was too low,” she groused. “He’s been forming an attack since earlier this afternoon.”

I leaned up on an elbow.

“He’s a little upset, Aern. And he’s coming to”—she winced—“finish us off.”

“Finish us off?” I said.

She smirked. “His words, not mine. Listen, I got us some time together, but Logan can only cover us for so long.”

I sat up. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

She looked pointedly toward the door. “What were we supposed to do? No one knows about Brianna, so they didn’t want us together.”

“Dammit, Aern,” Logan hissed from outside the door. “Open up.”

I fell back to the mattress, hand slapping loosely over my face.

“Don’t worry,” Emily said. “I’ll get it.”

A minute later, Logan’s voice hovered above me. “I know you’re awake.”

I dropped the hand to glare at him.

“Brendan is sending someone to retrieve you,” he said. “We’ve only got hours to prepare.”

I hadn’t even gotten dressed yet. I looked down, pursing my lips at hospital-issue Ralph Lauren pajamas. I glanced at Emily where she stood behind Logan, still fully dressed and only mildly disheveled. “Thirty more minutes,” I said.

She flushed, ran a hand over her hair.

“No deal,” Logan said. “The only reason I got talked into this, was because you needed to recover. But now I’m out. Brendan isn’t catching me leaving you alone in here with…” He started to gesture toward Emily, and then cleared his throat. “Besides, you need to catch up.”

“Fine,” I said. “Get started.”

Logan gave me a quick debriefing while I rummaged through the dresser, and then I took a three-minute shower while they waited. As I rinsed off, I marveled at the raised pink skin lining my hip and side, the only remainder of what was surely a handful of gruesome injuries. Aside from some muscle tightness over what was likely still reforming bone, I was almost completely recovered. I slipped on a white tee, loose-fit jeans, and brown leather belt and shoes. Morgan would be here soon, in his custom-made suit and tie, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

When I returned to the main room, Seth was waiting for us. “A few of Morgan’s men have been spotted along the borders of our outlying properties,” he explained. “Brendan thinks it’s a ploy, to get us to move our men from covering home base. But regardless, we’ll still need to shield them.” He glanced at Emily. “We have people there who need protection.”

“I’ll be heading to the Adair house,” Logan said. “I’ve got enough men to cover the files and what staff remain on site. Team two will return to Fordham, and the Westlake properties will be evacuated until we have a better idea of what their plans are.” He gave me a long look. “Be safe, brother.”

I returned the sentiment with a terse nod, and then said, “We’ll talk later,” putting more meaning in words that would sound to Seth like a generic reply. Logan was no fool, but he didn’t understand what was happening with Emily. And the thought brought pause, because I’d barely had time to process it myself.

My gaze found hers, and I could tell by the way her cheeks colored she was thinking along similar lines. And then both of us realized we were being watched, and we broke the connection to say goodbye to Logan and be escorted to the meeting by Seth.

The Southmont house was large, even by Division standards, and was much like a colonial museum. The colors were rich, carpeting plush, and furnishings ornate dark woods. Oil portraits lined the corridors and elaborate battle scenes or landscapes featured the long walls of open, spacious rooms. The house had a history, and we were about to add to it.

Seth led the way, walking the halls in front of us, and I let my arm brush Emily’s, unable to resist the urge for at least some contact. When we at last neared the entrance to the conference room, she froze, a hint of panic in her tone. “Wait.”

Seth stopped, glancing over his shoulder in a half turn.

I waved him on. “Go ahead, we’ll be there in a minute.”

As soon as the door closed, she was in my arms, both of us in great need of one last touch. I squeezed her tight to me as we moved, until she was pressed against the wall and I could free my grip. She reached around my shoulders to bring herself higher, desperate to deepen the kiss, and my hands slid low to curve around her thigh and raise her off the ground. Her fingers were suddenly grasping at the hem of my shirt as she struggled to pull it free, to press her skin to mine. When she finally succeeded, her touch, her bare palms exploring the skin of my chest, my back, crossing my abdomen, sent fire through me. My hips pressed into hers and she groaned.

It took everything I had to pull away from her.

I leaned back, both of us breathless, and stared into her heavy-lidded eyes.

A wry smile crossed her lips as she realized we were still in the hall. She cleared her throat, and slowly withdrew her legs from around my waist to slide down the wall. My head leaned forward to press against hers, and then I found her mouth again, for two soft kisses. Her hands slipped from beneath my shirt, one gliding slowly up my chest to rest over my heart while the other circled my back in a tender embrace. And we simply stayed there. It was too long, and it would never be enough.

As the voices rose from within the conference room, Emily sighed, and I leaned further back to take her hand. I brought it up for a brief kiss, and then held it until the last moment, when the door finally opened in front of us.

The conference room was large, poorly lit, and packed full of Division men. Brendan stood front and center, fielding questions and sorting out arguments. Brianna was off to the side, sitting watch at what appeared to be the only isolated area of the room. With Wesley.

Though he didn’t acknowledge it, Wesley excused himself from Brianna’s side as we entered the room. We made our way over, and Emily took his seat on Brianna’s left as I slid onto the table, one foot resting on the bench to her right.

We listened as Brendan laid out a plan, giving specific, detailed directions to each of his men, covering every entrance and exit to the property, to the house. He didn’t miss one single aspect, didn’t skip over one single point. They were coming, and he would go over it until the last minute. It would be learned by rote.

It wasn’t long before Emily became restless, standing, shifting, and then pacing the back and side walls of the conference room.

I tried not to watch her, leaning forward as I sat on the table, elbow resting just above my knee, thumb twisting the ring on my middle finger.

Brianna didn’t look at me as she spoke. “It’s not going to work.”

“No,” I said, though the certainty I felt was not the work of prophecy. It was merely familiarity with Morgan.

“She will save us,” Brianna said. “But not this time.”

My thumb stilled against the ring. “Brianna—”

She turned to me then, so close beside me, and the wanness in her face stopped me short. “It keeps shifting,” she said with a sad smile. “It’s never done that before.”

I glanced automatically at Emily.

“Yes,” Brianna said. “I suppose I should have thought of that, given that none of the prophecies went past the union.”

She took a deep breath and my eyes came back to hers, questioning.

“I’m just tired,” she said.

“Come on,” I said, stepping down from my seat. “There’s no reason for us to be here.”

When I grasped her hand, several of the observers across the room took notice. But it didn’t bother me now, because none of that mattered. The union was complete.

And nothing about it felt wrong.

Chapter Twenty-six

Resistance

“It’s time.”

The voice from the doorway came much too soon. The three of us had been waiting in one of the small sitting rooms, knowing what was coming. Knowing we had gotten lucky before. It wouldn’t happen again. This time, people would die.

And none of us were ready for that.

Brianna squeezed her sister’s hand, and then gave me a meaningful look before joining Seth at the door. “I’d like to see Brendan privately for a moment. Aern and Emily can meet us there.”

Seth’s gaze swept over us, but he didn’t argue with Brianna.

When they were gone, I stood and crossed to Emily where she sat perched on the edge of a low-backed chaise, pretending to study a painting. I held out a hand and she took it, silently standing to move into my embrace.

She slipped her arms around my back, and we stayed there, unspeaking, as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

I wouldn’t let it be the last time.

“I’m not scared,” Emily whispered against my chest.

I leaned back, lifting her chin to face me.

“But I can’t shake this feeling,” she said. “The prophecy, we can’t trust it, can we?” She shifted, her hand coming to rest on my side. “Have we brought absolute conflict? Blood against blood? Or is there more? They were so wrong, about everything, Aern. It was all there, and they’d only misunderstood.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’ve created the bond. We will find a way to get through this.”

“Will we?” she asked in a soft voice. “Because I don’t know anymore. What if we’ve mistaken it this time? The heir to the dragon’s name will rule with the union. They were wrong about which heir before—”

“No,” I said, cutting her off too abruptly, and she narrowed her gaze. If I had been sure, it wouldn’t have been so harsh.

“You heard Brianna,” she said. “Morgan can’t die. Not yet.” She glanced toward the doorway. “If he still has a part to play, Aern…”

“No,” I repeated. He would not have her. No matter what else happened, Morgan would not win.

Her breath came out heavily and she stared at me. Finally, she nodded, adopting my determination as she straightened to go.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm to pull her to me. I studied her for a long minute, re-memorizing her features. And then I touched my lips against hers softly, lingering there to whisper her name. When I pulled away, her eyes remained closed, saving the moment, and then steeling herself for what was to come.