Seduced by Crimson (25 page)

Xiao Fei lilted her face to the shower—chilly now—as it streamed sideways across her face. She licked her lips, tasting, drinking. She breathed slowly and felt him. Right there. Really, really big. Right
there
.

He felt painfully huge. Humongous. And yet, with her legs wrapped around him, her weight settled upon his hips and his sex thrust into her, she didn't dare move. She wondered how long he could hold her up like this.

"Xiao Fei?" His voice was tight, breathless, even. He clearly had himself under rigid control. He wasn't moving either, thank God. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me!"

His anger startled her, and she canted her eyes away. He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, exerting steady pressure to bring her gaze back to him. She complied slowly, but didn't speak. She was too embarrassed.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"I just wasn't prepared," she murmured. "You're… you're a big guy. But it's okay now."

He closed his eyes with a muffled groan, and his forehead tilted forward to meet hers. She felt him breathe—their chests were pressed tightly together—and she was immediately swamped with guilt. She'd ruined it for him. She'd ruined it for the world.

"It's okay," she said. "Keep going."

"You were a virgin, weren't you?"

"It's okay. It was working."

He made a rumbling low in his throat, kind of like a growl. "Xiao Fei, were you a virgin?"

She didn't know why she was ashamed to admit it. Stupid, really. Her virginity was a good thing, but she couldn't help feeling like she'd betrayed him.

His hands tightened on her arms. "Xiao—"

"Yes. Yes, I was. Which is all to the good for the spell, right?
Which was working"
She wanted him to know that she believed.

He lifted his face, turning his head slightly so the water hit more of his hair than his right ear and eye. "Was it? Was it working?" He leaned forward, readjusting her weight, and she gasped at the increased pressure inside her.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"No. Keep going. We have to close the gate."

"My concentration's shot. I wasn't sure before…" He grimaced."O lost myself in the… in you."

Xiao Fei tensed her legs, lifting herself slightly. But then her strength failed, and she slid back down him. She felt her buttocks on his thighs. The pain was more of a vague discomfort now.

He shifted his hands to brace her hips. "Don't move, Xiao Fei. I'm not… I'm not part of the Earth anymore, and I… I've only got so much control."

She nodded. She understood. Part of her shimmered with hunger, wanted to feel him push against her in just the right place, in just the right way. But the rest of her was burning like a scraped knee. It was as vulnerable as she had ever felt.

She frowned, realizing she was distancing herself. And that was not what was called for. Not if they wanted to do what was necessary. "Patrick," she said. "It was working. I felt the gate. I felt all of Earth." She swallowed. "And now I feel her wound—the demon gate." Just like she felt her own wound. "There's blood…" He flinched at that, but she kept speaking. "We have water. I ate the fruit. There's…"

"Fire in the candle, stone and iron in the bathroom. But…"

She pressed her mouth to his, absorbing his objection. She had meant the kiss to be quick, but his mouth was strong and wet and just right. She teased him with her tongue, running it along his bottom lip, foraging inside to tickle his teeth and challenge his tongue.

He groaned. Then he began to kiss her back. Soon he was invading her mouth with his tongue. She felt his legs flexing beneath hers. But a moment later he broke the kiss. "I don't feel the Earth, Xiao Fei. I don't feel it."

She kissed him again, trying to renew the passion, doing her best not to feel the pain.

He broke away. "Xiao Fei. I don't know that this will work."

She shook her head. "It will. It
was
working. And we can't sit here like this all day." She arched slightly, deepening the angle of her pelvis and thrusting her breasts harder against him. "Finish it."

"I don't want it to hurt."

"It doesn't," she lied.

"I—"

"Oh, for God's sake!" she snapped. "Quit whining and do me!"

He pulled back in surprise, but quickly recovered. "Yes, ma'am," he joked. Sweet heaven, he made her smile.

He braced her more firmly against the cold tile, enough that he could free one hand. "I… cannot connect with the gate," he murmured. He began to caress her breast.

She closed her eyes. "I feel it." And she did. More than ever she sensed a wound, an opening where something other invaded. She felt the hole from which Earth poured its life force. She felt that, and she felt Patrick's hand lifting and stroking her nipple. Odd how both could be in her head, both overwhelming, both amazing.

Patrick's hand slid down her belly; his thumb burrowed between their joined bodies. He had to shift her weight. She gripped her thighs tight, lifting herself higher. But then he stopped. "The water's cold. The angle…"

She nodded, agreeing. With one hand, he shut off the now-freezing shower. She leaned forward, popped open the shower stall, and then pulled a towel from the rack to wrap around them.

"Hold tight," he gasped. She did. And then she was jostled in the most delightful way as he half walked, half stumbled to the bed. It had a small mattress, but large enough for their purpose. Patrick dropped her on it and followed her down. He probably didn't have much choice, given how joined they were. She giggled at the thought.

"I'm sorry this isn't great," he said.

She grinned at him. "Are you kidding? It's what every girl wants: memorable."

His expression stilled, and she caught a flash of sadness in his eyes. "No, it's not."

She would have responded; she would have said something witty or charming or whatever, but words deserted her. His thumb was doing its work again. And while it slid up and down between their bodies, his hips began to shift.

There was still a little pain, enough for her to remember Earth's wound. Enough to feel both Patrick and the hole. The tension built. There came a wonderful sensation: the stillness before the storm, the gathering of clouds before the thunder.

Xiao Fei's belly quivered. Her breasts seemed to tingle. Her legs lifted to wrap around Patrick again. He was moving slowly in and out of her. But he was too weak, his thrusts too gentle for her growing sense of… something.

So she gripped his back with his next push. She pulled him in with the all the strength she had, and the impact against her—inside her—was just what she wanted. Except there was more. She knew it. She just had to get it.

On his next withdrawal, she arched her hips to follow him. That made his next impact all the more delightful. Heat. Power. They were building in her belly and lower. Just a little more…

Another thrust. Another caress. Again. Again!

Implosion!

Xiao Fei's belly contracted. Her body convulsed. Everything she was contracted and tightened and rippled.

She heard Patrick cry out, a guttural grunt that was oh, so male. And then he was pouring himself into her. She knew, though she couldn't feel it. It didn't matter. She still felt his presence, his strength, and a boneless sense of eternity.

Patrick was gasping above her, his body quivering. He strained. Xiao Fei smiled.

Eventually, the power receded. The contractions fluttered, then stopped. Eternity faded.

She looked up at his drawn face. His hair was still wet from the shower, his skin flushed a rosy gold. From this angle, his shoulders looked broad enough to carry the world.

"Did it work?" he asked. "I can't feel…"

She swallowed and tried to expand her awareness. It wasn't all that hard. The world had been with her during the entire experience; she merely had to direct her attention to it, concentrate until she had the answer.

"Xiao Fei? Did it work?"

"Yes," she finally said. Then the full truth hit her. "Yes! The gate's smaller."

"Smaller?" he asked.

She opened her eyes and realized that they hadn't succeeded after all. "Smaller. Not closed."

"It wasn't enough?"

She shook her head. "We failed."

Patrick tried to sleep. He was bone-weary. Lord, he could barely even lift his head, but he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed in his mind what had just happened. He had been so focused. All the components for the spell had been in place. Most important, his concentration had never been stronger. With everything at stake, he had allowed no deviation in intent, no wavering of purpose.

Until he'd touched her. Then he had shifted from the Draig-Uisge, working with a woman to close the gate, to Patrick losing himself in Xiao Fei's body. Worse, as their lovemaking continued, he had descended from man to beast. He had taken her like a bull takes a heifer—whether she willed it or not. He'd been bestial. He'd been brutal. He'd been—

"Go to sleep, Patrick. It wasn't that bad," Xiao Fei said, reading his mind. She snuggled deeper into his arms. "In fact, it was pretty good."

He lifted his head to look at the petite body cuddled up against him. Damn, she was gorgeous. In any other situation, he would be all over her again, horny as a teenager. But he'd just taken her virginity. And he'd forced her…

"Stop it, Patrick," she said to his chest. "Geez, stop thinking. You Americans get lost so easily in your heads."

He frowned. "I'm not lost."

"Are you tired?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are you sleeping?"

"Uh, no."

"Then you're lost in your head. We need to sleep before we can do anything else. Before we can plan on what to do next, we need to sleep. So shut up and sleep already." She sounded half-amused and half-annoyed.

He protested. "I wasn't talking."

"You were groaning and sighing and… Just stop, already. I'm tired."

He dropped a kiss on top of her head. There was no reason for him to do it, except that she was there. And she made sense. "Okay. I'll sleep."

"Good," she replied.

And he did.

The fruit tastes bitter but familiar. Even at eight years old, Xiao Fei finds comfort in the ritual, and excitement in the difference.

It is just before dawn in a torn and broken ancient garden. Her mature mind recognizes the place, remembered in this dream. She understands that this was once a holy place, an ancient site of worship and reverence. Her eight-year-old mind merely curls her lip at the rocky stones, the broken trees, the trash that litters the ground. Yes, even in war-torn Cambodia, there is trash: broken cups, useless bits of plastic.

Her group surrounds a large tree. It is one of the few standing, and there is little life left in it. Dead branches have been stripped away for fuel, even the ones that should have towered well above the heads of men. What is left is a lumpy stick of a tree, jagged and ugly. Xiao Fei's eight-year-old self thinks of a badly made chopstick and laughs disrespectfully.

She is rapidly silenced by a monk's hard smack to the back of her head. They all kneel in circles around the ugly tree—Phoenix Tears in the smaller circle, monks in a larger one behind them, and then a third circle of branches and fruit. Xiao Fei's younger self doesn't notice, but the adult recognizes an echo in the placement. They are forming the same pattern as on Patrick's amulet, only theirs is made of living flesh.

This is when they eat the fruit again. A second taste, unheard-of in her short life. And even more surprising,
all
of them eat, including the monks.

They begin the chant. Both the eight-year-old and the adult Xiao Fei relax into the sound, the surge and flow of power. They both frown at the outflow of strength that pours from the Earth into the demon gate, which they can feel though it isn't here. The adult remembers that the gate is about a mile away, guarded by demons. This ancient garden was as close as they could get, but in a closing ritual, close proximity to the wound isn't a requirement. They are on Earth, and all of Earth needs the healing.

Xiao Fei's adult mind screams. Over and over she rails at the group to stop, but no one hears. This is a memory replayed in a dream. At eight, she simply closes her eyes and lets the power pour over her. She is doing her part to feel the gate and then, with the power of her mind and blood, to close it.

The abbot walks to the center of the circle, making small nicks one by one in the women's veins at the wrist. There is a tattooed tear there, and all are well used to this process. Young Xiao Fei is toward the end of the line. She barely even notices the pain as her life blood begins to pour. Somewhere in the distance, she feels Earth's energy shimmer. She knows the planet's wound is beginning to close.

She doesn't hear the sound at first—screaming, some in fury, some in pain. It is a noise of the ears, not the spirit, and so it doesn't penetrate her consciousness, except as something not to notice.