Kiss of Fate by Deborah Cooke
Then she settled over him, and her tight heat stole his breath away.
Eileen hovered over Erik, taking him inside her in slow increments. She moved at a glacial pace, enjoying the obvious signs of Erik’s pleasure. She already knew that he wasn’t one to reveal his feelings very often and she enjoyed the sense of power that came from tormenting him with sensation.
He was an open book to her in this moment. His eyes drifted closed and the line of his lips softened. He gasped when he moved and his hands tightened on her waist as if he couldn’t control himself. Given Erik’s power of self-control, that was saying something.
“Look at me,” she whispered, leaning over him to kiss him. Her hair fell around them like a curtain and she moved with exquisite slowness. She liked that he hadn’t argued about the condoms, liked that he was moving with deliberation himself.
His hand eased between them and he caressed her with gentle surety, making her gasp into their kiss. His eyes gleamed with sexual intent and Eileen moved to give him easier access. She watched a smile curve his lips as she writhed atop him.
“You just want to be in control,” she teased.
“I just want to see you orgasm,” he murmured, his voice low.
“Ditto.” Eileen sat up and stretched her arms over her head, letting the bubbles drip from her breasts. She felt him watching her, sensed his hunger, and rolled her hips. He inhaled sharply, his finger and thumb caressing her more boldly. Eileen felt her hips begin to rock of their own accord. Her nipples were taut and she was simmering to the tips of her fingers.
“Show me,” Erik whispered, his command firing Eileen’s blood.
“Smile for me,” Eileen retorted.
She knew immediately that she’d surprised him again. He smiled crookedly, his eyes shining like gems. She moved with greater force, setting the bathwater sloshing. They stared at each other as the heat rose, their bodies coming together in that ancient rhythm. The rain beat on the windows, seeming to drive them on to greater heights.
She abruptly dropped to his chest, writhing against him as she kissed him again. The water surged over the side of the tub but neither of them cared. Eileen rubbed her breasts against his chest, enjoying how his hair tickled her nipples. She kissed him deeply, demanding all he had to give, her tongue dueling with his and her fingers locked in his hair.
Erik more than met her halfway. He caught her close, his fingers moving mercilessly between her thighs. She bucked her hips against him, feeling him get harder and thicker, feeling him become as taut as a bowstring. The firestorm burned savagely through her veins, consuming her every inhibition and demanding that she surrender more. Steam rose from the bathwater even as their bodies raged.
Then Erik flicked his fingers, his quick gesture dispatching Eileen into the heart of the flames. Eileen cried out, clutching Erik’s shoulders so tightly that she knew that her nails dug into his flesh.
He drove deeper inside her, filling her with his strength and power. To her surprise, he then pulled out of her. He bared his teeth and roared, his muscles flexing as he climaxed. Eileen collapsed against him, her breath coming quickly, and watched his throat work.
Then he opened his eyes and smiled at her, his features transformed with passion and pleasure. Eileen’s heart skipped at the change in the look of him. He looked younger and more relaxed, confident and less wary.
“Again?” he whispered, and Eileen nodded agreement.
“Absolutely.” She bent and nibbled on his earlobe. Maybe next time he’d trust the condom. “Once is never enough.”
“Never,” Erik agreed, and claimed her lips once more.
Sigmund Guthrie felt the growing heat of the firestorm.
He’d been waiting for it, his senses tuned to the heat that would signal the third major firestorm of the new age. He’d been charged by Boris to monitor this third firestorm, and he was going to fulfill his responsibilities.
He didn’t care about Boris’s objectives, just his own. Making Boris happy was Sigmund’s only chance of getting a sip of the Dragon’s Blood Elixir, and that was his only shot at immortality.
Sigmund’s fascination wasn’t purely academic, although he was curious to learn how the Elixir worked.
He was surprised when the firestorm drew him to an area he had known well. He was shocked as he focused on the central pulse of heat and found himself coming closer to his own past. Something softened within him as he found himself within familiar terrain. The curve of the hills, the smell of the land, the sound of the river all combined to make him nostalgic for the love he had lost.
Then he caught the scent of the Pyr involved and his lip curled with disdain. Erik still hadn’t learned to disguise his scent from other Pyr and Slayers, a fact that gave Sigmund another reason to scorn his father.
On the other hand, there was something particularly satisfying about the idea of thwarting his father’s firestorm. Sigmund shifted shape around the bend of the road and trudged toward the town with his collar up, looking for all the world like a poor scholar who had missed the bus. The rain soaked him to the skin quickly, but he didn’t mind.
He was warmed by the promise of vengeance. Sigmund recalled the old prophecy about blood sacrifice. He wouldn’t mind helping Erik to be that sacrifice. The old Pyr deserved no less for his betrayal of Louisa, Sigmund’s mother. He deserved no less for killing Louisa’s father, Sigmund’s mentor and the only human who had ever truly understood him. Sigmund had taken his mother’s maiden name as his own out of respect for his human grandfather.
Maybe Sigmund could ensure that Erik’s sacrifice was a long and painful one. He had time to chuckle to himself before a black sedan came along the road behind him. Sigmund stepped aside to let the car pass, noting the nasty dent on the roof as he did so.
But the car paused beside him, the engine idling with a throaty purr. The tinted window on the back door descended with a smooth hum and Sigmund was shocked to find Magnus smiling at him.
“I warned you once to stay out of my business,” Magnus said in old-speak, his smile unwavering.
Sigmund refused to be intimidated. “A prophesied firestorm is every Slayer’s business.”
“You are here on Boris’s command, no doubt.”
“I go where I want.”
Magnus’s eyes narrowed and he considered Sigmund as if the younger Slayer might make a good meal. Then he spoke aloud. “Lying to me, Sigmund, could have an adverse effect upon your longevity.”
Magnus emphasized the last word, his eyes glittering. Sigmund wondered how much of his own ambitions the old Slayer knew.
And he was afraid.
Someone in the car chuckled. Sigmund saw the silhouettes of three other men in the car: Balthasar, Mallory, and Jorge, no doubt. He poised to shift and run, knowing he was outnumbered and on the wrong side of Magnus’s approval rating.
It seemed suddenly to be a very bad thing to have a strong association with Boris.
“You do have a personal connection in this instance, don’t you?” Magnus mused.
“The failure of this firestorm is of importance to all of us.”
“But of particular importance to you and Boris, given your various petty issues with Erik.” Magnus made a dismissive gesture even as Sigmund bit back an argument in his own favor. “My objectives are more sweeping and long-term. More comprehensive, as befits a true leader.”
Sigmund wondered what the old Slayer had in mind.
Despite himself, he was intrigued.
“I shall make you an offer, Sigmund Guthrie,” Magnus said before Sigmund could ask.
The Slayer’s tone was ominous, but Sigmund tried to hide his trepidation. “Yes?”
“You take the mate, if you so choose. The Pyr is all mine.”
Sigmund felt cheated by the very idea. His argument was with his father. “Why should I agree to that?”
“Because I hold the cup of the Elixir,” Magnus declared in old-speak, his words echoing in Sigmund’s thoughts. “Because I
“But Boris—”
“If Boris has told you otherwise, he is a liar. Do not imagine that the balance of power is anything other than what it is.” He glared at Sigmund with such ferocity that Sigmund understood Magnus was demanding a change in his allegiance.
He also was being given a chance to get what he wanted.
Sigmund’s thoughts flew. The fact was that Boris had nearly died from his sip of the Elixir. Then he had spent the better part of six months having reconstructive surgery after a battle with Erik that would have killed a Slayer who had not drunk of the Elixir.
Boris wouldn’t take well to Sigmund’s changing loyalty.
But Magnus held the Elixir; Magnus knew old secrets that everyone had forgotten; Magnus sought command of the Slayers.
If Sigmund had been a betting Pyr, he would have wagered his hoard on Magnus being triumphant.
Instead, he bet his life on it.
“Deal,” he said aloud. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Magnus’s smile; then the window rolled up, ending the conversation. The tinted glass might have been a black mirror—he saw only his own wet reflection staring back at him.
The car accelerated in that moment, its rear tires lunging through a puddle with such speed that the water splashed. Sigmund was soaked from the knees down as he watched the car move out of sight.
Still, he was relieved to have survived another encounter with Magnus. He was glad that Magnus hadn’t offered him a ride—Sigmund had a feeling that he wouldn’t have gotten out of that sedan alive.
It didn’t really matter whether the mate died or the Pyr died—either way, the firestorm would be thwarted. Sigmund made his peace with his compromise as well as he could and continued his trudge toward town.
Chapter 14
For the first time in centuries, Erik Sorensson was indecisive.
He had showered and dressed, and stood with the wooden chest in his hand, poised to leave. He watched Eileen sleep, her hair strewn across the pillows and a small smile playing over her lips.
He hadn’t been able to do it. He hadn’t been able to come inside of Eileen.
The condoms had worked against the firestorm, because they had reminded him of what would happen. It wasn’t fair to impregnate Eileen, not without telling her the whole story. It wasn’t right to conceive a child without her agreement.
He didn’t want to betray her.
He’d done enough damage in betraying Louisa. He had given Eileen a good chunk of the story she sought and he had pleasured her over and over again. Maybe that would start to balance the debt.
Maybe not.
There were similarities between them, certainly, but Eileen was different from Louisa. She was bolder and more vibrant, more outspoken.
Infinitely more alluring. The spell Louisa had cast over him had been nothing compared to what Eileen might do.
Erik knew that he should leave, while he could.
The firestorm boiled in his veins, taunting him with the fact that it hadn’t yet been sated. He burned with desire, even standing a dozen feet away from Eileen, and he had watched the sparks leap from his own fingers into her hair when he had touched her one last time.
His task wasn’t complete, yet he had to leave. He had obligations and responsibilities—he knew that the Pyr were waiting at his lair in Chicago, waiting for his decision on how best to move forward now that the Dragon’s Egg was destroyed. He knew that he should step out the door.
But he couldn’t quite bring himself to open the door. He wanted to stay with Eileen. He wanted to slide under the duvet beside her and awaken her slowly.
But it was more than sex that lured him. He wanted to tell her the full story of the firestorm, and discuss with her how best to proceed. He felt lighter for having shared even part of his history with someone else, and the possibility of no longer being alone was deeply appealing. He sensed that Eileen, with her love of stories, might be able to see his direction more clearly than he could.
But he didn’t dare jeopardize the Pyr with such a personal choice. Erik knew what he had to do. In taking leadership of his kind, he had known that his own desires had to be pushed aside for the greater good.
He’d take the Dragon’s Teeth to Rafferty, then come back. Eileen would be safe within the barrier of his dragonsmoke. He wouldn’t be long. It was a compromise that pleased him in concept, but Erik had his doubts as to its success. Could he ever repair the damage of Eileen awakening alone? Could he not take the Dragon’s Teeth when he had the chance? Would he survive the journey to Rafferty and back?
There were no good choices. That was getting a bit old.
Erik sighed and reached for the doorknob. He cheated himself of one last glance at Eileen, and hauled open the door with purpose.
Magnus was standing right outside the door.
Erik was shocked. How could Magnus be so close? Erik had had no warning, had detected no scent of another Pyr or Slayer.
How had Magnus broken through Erik’s dragonsmoke without doing injury to himself or without Erik hearing the chime of the smoke break into discord?
Had he left a gap? Erik couldn’t believe it.
Magnus smiled and took advantage of his surprise. “A gift for me?” he asked in old-speak. “How thoughtful of you.”
Magnus snatched the leather handles of the wooden chest right out of Erik’s grip. He pivoted and raced for the stairs, leaping down them as he shifted shape. He was out the door, his scales adorned with raindrops as he took flight.
Erik was right behind him, shifting in midair as he raced to retrieve the Dragon’s Teeth.
Eileen dreamed of water.
She stirred in her sleep, struggling to free herself from the grip of the dream. The water was dark and cold. It closed around her like a trap, its murk ensuring that she couldn’t even guess the direction of the surface.
She tried to cry out but took a gulp of dirty cold water into her mouth instead. She choked and sputtered as her fear grew.
The water churned, the current sending her spinning through the endless water. She glimpsed rocks, the bed of the river, reeds growing along the shore, but everything flashed past her so quickly. She couldn’t grab anything, couldn’t save herself, couldn’t breathe.
Eileen panicked.
“You cannot fight the water and win,” a woman advised in a soft voice. Her tranquil tone was in direct opposition to Eileen’s terror.
Eileen didn’t dare open her mouth to answer.
“Water has its own will, its own power,” the woman continued. “Surrender to it. Embrace its nature and it will permit you to move through it with ease.”
Eileen didn’t think so. She flailed and it made no difference. She kicked and struggled, but the river had her in its relentless grip. It would take her wherever it desired. It could destroy her. It could drown her or shatter her and there was nothing she could do.
Eileen wanted to weep at her impotence. She wanted to save herself. She wanted to be independent and in command of her own destiny.
But the water was too strong. It wore her out. In her exhaustion, she felt her body go limp and unresponsive.
She would die. She understood that she couldn’t do anything about it, and surrendered her fate to the will of the river.
The current spun her, twisted her, pushed her, then abruptly surrendered her to a calm inlet. Eileen floated upward in the quieter waters, exhausted, her body drifting of its own accord.
She broke the surface and took a gasping breath, pushing the water from her face and shoving her wet hair back from her eyes. She stretched her feet down and realized that she could stand.
She straightened, shivering when the air caressed her wet skin. Her skirts dragged, their weight keeping her hips in the water and her legs bent. Eileen found stones in her pockets. She lifted them out, staring at them in her shaking hands.
She remembered Erik’s story and un
The truth was both shocking and simple: She had been Louisa.
She had been the woman Erik believed he had betrayed, the woman who had committed suicide over their son’s turning Slayer.
How could she have made such a drastic choice?
How could she have ever distrusted Erik?
“You don’t need those anymore,” the woman said with confidence. “You never needed them.”
Eileen glanced around and found a blond woman sitting on a rock on the shore. Her eyes were a vivid turquoise, and she was delicately built. She watched Eileen, and Eileen realized it had been her voice giving advice.
“Surrender to the water?” she echoed.
“Trust in goodness,” the woman said. “You can be whole only if you love, if you feel, if you commit. Water teaches us about surrender, about commitment, about trust.”
Eileen looked down at the stones she held. They seemed large and dark in her hands, heavy, restrictive. On impulse she threw them into the river and they sank. She took a deep breath and lowered herself into the water, her terror rising as she dipped her face below the surface. She moved underwater, swimming the width of the calm inlet, her confidence growing with every stroke.
It was like her dream, but not quite as good. She felt more powerful, more at one with the water, even though there was still room for improvement.
Even though her heart still pounded in fear.
When she broke the surface, Eileen turned to her companion. The woman’s smile lit her entire face and Eileen felt triumphant.
Then the woman disappeared into thin air.
Eileen glanced around in panic, dismayed to find herself suddenly alone.