Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (13 page)

Chapter 25

Sarid had woken to soft feather strokes down his arm. Not used to the touch of anything except the smooth bumpy feel of the sugar cane stalk or the punishing blow of a fist, he’d jolted upright. The master’s daughter sat next to him.

When he was nine his mother sold him to the slaves. The work was hard, but the master paid him little attention as long as he did what he was told. Payment was one meal a day and a bedroll at night for the ground.

Seven years in the field turned his gangly arms and legs into muscles. Slaves were never allowed near the house and he laid on the grass well away from the other workers.

Rumors had spread. About the marks on his cheeks. They kept their distance.

It didn’t bother him. Solitude was what he knew, and as early as he remembered, what his home village expected. In a way it was almost a comfort.

“Go.” He spoke harshly, more out of fear than anything else. The master’s daughter was very beautiful. He’d seen her walking the fields with her father. But he knew the rules. “You will get me in trouble.”

The girl smiled, reached behind her. A breath later the top of her dress loosened and fell to her waist, exposing her breasts.

Unwillingly his cock swelled. The girl laughed, rose to her feet. Her garment fell to the ground. She was completely bare now.

“Don’t do this,” he begged, though it was a weak plea. His gaze was unable to break away from her womanly form.

He’d never been touched with a gentle hand. Never known a kind word. Hadn’t been schooled on handling the emotions traveling through him. But he knew what his throbbing groin wanted. To be nestled inside the girl’s dark curls between her legs.

It was a crime. Punishable by death. He would be hung.

The girl laughed again. A chiming sound. So carefree and light. She reached for the string holding his pants. One pull and it was undone. With a courage he never possessed, she reached inside and brought him out.

He froze at the touch that was not his own, and he suddenly no longer cared what would happen to him.

Shouts sounded in the distance. The girl gave a small cry of fright and lunged for her dress. Sarid sat, still stunned as blood pumped hard through his body, pooling in one place.

The master charged up the hill. Light from his lantern fell upon Sarid and his cock still sticking straight up. Then on his daughter a few feet away, dress held tight against her body, shielding her nakedness.

For sure Sarid would be dead before the sun rose, and only one thought passed through his mind as his dick withered. If only the master had found them just a few moments later.

The girl’s father stared at him in disgust.

Wanting to meet his death straight on, Sarid didn’t avert his gaze from the man. The master’s hand lifted, not the one holding the lantern, but the other one.
In it was a gun.

Not a hanging then. It’d be done here. Under this tree. With the girl who had but for one brief moment touched him with a hand so soft.

“No,” the master had said suddenly, uncocking his gun. “I have a different idea for you, boy.”

Something hard had hit Sarid in the temple and he’d slumped to the ground.

Chapter 26

A soft knock sounded on the door. Asjhone wiped her hands on her jeans.

Why was she so nervous?

Of course, she knew why. Sarid was behind the door. She hadn’t seen him since he came over for dessert two days ago. Since they shared that peck of a kiss.

Plus, tonight, they’d be alone.

Asjhone had planned for Devan to stay the night. Keep Keandre entertained. To have alone, but not too alone, time with Sarid. Devan had a new Wii game, though, and didn’t want to leave. Keandre begged to stay over, promising not to go outside. She caved before realizing what Keandre’s absence meant.

She paused in front of the door. Ran a hand over her hair. Straightened her shirt.

Another knock.

Quick exhale then she opened the door. Smiled despite the nerves fluttering in her belly. “Hi.”

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Sarid still hadn’t said anything. She shifted from foot to foot. Resisted the urge to touch her hair again. It was too much. Why had she done it?

Complete. Mistake.

Plus, when she’d asked Monique for her stylist’s name, she’d been forced to listen to the woman go on and on about the new guy in her life.
“He took me to The Clove. Bought a bottle of wine. A whole bottle. The most expensive kind. But, I swear, it’s not just the money. His body: absolutely to die for. And, my God, the man knows how to use it. He’s only in town for a week, but I think I can convince him to stay.”

“You look different,” Sarid finally said.

Her cheeks filled with heat. “I . . . I had my hair done.” And was wearing makeup. And a new shirt she hadn’t worn.

Never had she wished more for her old, comfortable sweatpants.

When she left the salon, Jon had kissed both cheeks—even though he was born and raised in Oregon—proclaiming, “You look absolutely sexy, darling. You’re gonna drive your new man wild.”

The comment had left her feeling off. Maybe because of the word sexy? Never in the past seven years had she worried about being sexy. Tired looking? Yes. Worn out? Definitely.

But it wasn’t until now, standing in front of Sarid, waiting for his approval that she realized why Jon’s remark affected her so. Her heart began to pound. She’d fallen right back into old patterns. Had been fooling herself.

Eyes wide open. Trust her instincts.

Her eyes were definitely open now. She had just as much blame to shoulder.

Trust her instincts. The instinct that she was a fool? A goddamn fool that hadn’t learned anything.

Her breath hitched. Oh, God, she was going to cry. She dropped her gaze. Cleared her throat. Swallowed the burn in her throat with difficulty. “You know,” she said barely above a whisper, “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not feeling too—”

“No. No. Don’t do that. I’m sorry.” Sarid reached for her.

She backed up.

He froze. “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful. I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting . . . You didn’t look like my Asjhone and—”

The weak barrier broke. Tears fell from her eyes like a damn had just collapsed. She wasn’t able to stifle her sob.

An agonized sound left his lips. “Please. Please, don’t do that.” He stepped forward, retreated. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. How to make it better.”

She shook her head. Covered her face with her hands. Her mascara was probably running. She never wore mascara. Not anymore. Pre-Keandre, she’d never leave the house without a full face on. “Just go.” Her voice was thick.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. Despair laced each word, as if her pain was his.

Her head lifted. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Except her nose was stuffy from crying, so she couldn’t really breathe from it and had to part her mouth just to get air into her lungs.

“But I will if you want me to. Just let me, let me hold you. One last time.” He didn’t move. Just stood there, waiting. With an agonized expression.

Her breath hitched. She nodded. Then she was wrapped in his strong embrace. Pressed against his hard chest. Surrounded by his warmth. She didn’t feel them move, but when she opened her eyes, they were inside her apartment, the door closed behind them.

He stared down at her, then slowly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

She lowered her head, scrubbed underneath her eyes with her fingers. “I probably look like a raccoon.”

“I’ve never seen a raccoon as beautiful as you.”

He sounded so sincere that she stopped. His hand brushed the length of her hair. “Tell me what I did wrong.”

She shook her head.

“Please. I don’t want to make you cry. Ever. Tell me and I won’t do it again.”

The burn in her throat was back. “I swear, it wasn’t you.”

“You’re beautiful. No matter what. I shouldn’t have—” She pressed a finger to his lips.

“No. Your reaction didn’t upset me. It was the realization that I,” she paused. Took a deep breath. “That I was doing it again. Changing for a guy. And I promised, after,” another pause. Swallow. “After Keandre’s father I wouldn’t do it again.”

Sarid stilled. “I don’t want you to change.” He studied her, gaze moving back and forth between her eyes.

The conviction in his voice left no room for doubt. The pressure in her chest eased and then increased for a different reason. She cupped his cheek.

Breath escaped his mouth in an audible whoosh as if he’d been holding it. His lids fell half-closed. His body relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense he’d been.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Do I still have to go?”

For a moment, he sounded just like Keandre and she laughed out loud.

A wide grin crossed his face.

Her breath caught on an inhale. Something in her expression must’ve changed, because his smile slowly fell. His chest began to rise and fall more quickly. The look in his eyes turned molten.

“No.” She pressed closer against him.

“No?” His gaze traveled to her mouth. Stayed.

“You don’t have to go.” And pressed her lips against his.

Chapter 27

SIX DAYS LEFT

Sarid pulled Asjhone closer.

She moaned. The sound vibrated through her chest and into his.

This kiss was nothing like the other one. He felt awkward. Unsure. Until she gave another little noise of pleasure. His insecurities vanished as he sought to only hear those sounds from her again. To keep the warmth, quickly spreading through his body like fire, steady. Time stopped. Her moans turned to purring.

Wait, that wasn’t coming from her. Had she gotten a cat?

No! It was the demon.

He gasped. Lifted his head. Detangled from her arms. Stumbled back. Until he hit the door. Air stormed in and out of his mouth.

Was the demon emerging? Had Sarid’s loss of control for those brief moments strengthened it?

The Other was quiet, though. No comments. No movement.

Did Sarid need to run? Was the demon tricking him? Ready and waiting for the right moment to attack Asjhone.

Asjhone.

He raised his head. She was where he’d left her. Head down. Her new long hair shadowing most of her face. Right hand raised. Fingers sweeping back and forth over her lower lip. It was puffy.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her head snapped up. Her chest was moving rapidly. “No. It’s not—that was—I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Her hands lowered to her hips. “Well, why are you sorry?”

He moved closer, gently brushed a finger over her bottom lip. “It’s swollen. I—does it hurt?”

She cocked her head, a smile formed. Small at first then it widened before slowly fading.

He didn’t understand this reaction.

“Sarid, have you,” she trailed off. “Haven’t you ever . . .” Another pause. A crease formed between her brows.

“You may ask me anything,” he said softly.

“Haven’t you ever made out with anyone before?” She spoke in a rush, the words almost forming one long syllable.

He glanced at the floor. “I’m sorry, again, then, I—”

“No.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You misunderstand me. I enjoyed the kiss. A lot.”

The heat in her eyes, the way her pupils dilated—was she thinking of—

“A lot,” she said again. “I only ask because, well, it’s normal for lips to be swollen after kissing like we did.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” Her voice was soft, thick, throaty.

His body responded as if he’d stuck his finger in a socket. Electric currents ran through his body. She enjoyed his touch. Perhaps not on the same level as he enjoyed hers, because that would be impossible, but maybe somewhere close. The desire to touch her again was too strong. He stepped back.

Silence fell.

After a moment, she said, “Why don’t you go sit on the couch? I need to check on dinner.”

He wanted to refuse. Offer to help. But he had to calm down. Separate from the situation. Make sure the demon wasn’t going to break free.

Halfway into the front room, he heard clicking noises. He glanced over his shoulder. Asjhone secured each lock on the door, then twisted the doorknob as if double-checking her actions, ran her fingers over each mechanism as if in assurance they were indeed fastened. Their gazes met when she turned.

“Do you feel unsafe here?”

Her eyes fell away from him. “Just habit.” Then she flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll meet you on the couch in just a second.”

His eyes traveled once more to the door before he went into the front room. On a hunch, he strode to the windows, swept aside the curtains that every time he’d been here had been drawn. Just as he thought. The lock on the window couldn’t have come with the apartment. She had it installed.

Her scent and the sound of movements reached him before she did. By the time she made it around the corner he was next to the couch, curtain back in place. His eyes fell to the table as she passed it. Only two place settings. His brows furrowed. “Where’s Keandre?” He assumed the boy was in his room. Had expected at any moment to hear fast footfalls and feel a small body slamming against his legs. A routine that warmed his chest. A different way than with Asjhone, but a nice feeling just the same.

“He’s at Devan’s house.”

Disappointment flashed. Well, he’d be able to see the boy before bed. Read him a story. Maybe help with bath time.

“He’s staying the night,” she said softly.

“Oh.” Then his head lifted. There was something in her tone. Her cheeks had tinted. Heart rate was accelerated. An intense wave of jasmine and chocolate reached him.

He didn’t know what to make of this, until her gaze met his.

Oh.

The demon purred. Louder than before. As if in approval.

Panic speared him. He couldn’t. Never. Had to leave. Couldn’t even think about it. It was unsafe. Completely unsafe. No. He had to leave. Get out.

“Sarid,” she said, like it wasn’t the first time she’d called out to him. “Sarid,” she said again. Softly. Gently. Taking his hand, leading him to the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he panted softly. “I’m—sorry.” Must tell her he had to go. Leave. But the words clogged in his throat. He couldn’t catch a breath.

Hand on the back of his neck, she pushed until his head hung between his knees. She rubbed his back. Methodic, soothing circles. Little by little he calmed, but his fears hadn’t vanished. Wouldn’t.

“Talk to me,” she said when he sat up.

“I’m . . .”

How could he explain the war inside him? The shouts for him to go, leave her. Demands he stay. The voice saying he doesn’t deserve this. Whispers, he did. Fear if he stayed. Fear of what was to come when he left. The way he wanted to close his eyes and just let it all go.

To stop the torment any way he could.

Selfish. Unselfish.

Murderer. Protector.

One or the other. Never both.

Two choices.

One decision must be made.

“Ssshh.” She brought him into her arms. “It’s okay. Let’s be here.” She held him tighter. “Just here.”

He nodded against her breast. Closed his eyes against the wetness. When beeping sounded in the kitchen he sat back.

“I don’t have to—” she began.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t meet her gaze. “Go ahead.”

She hesitated, then, “I won’t be long.”

As soon as she was gone, he went into the bathroom. Shut the door. Thought for a moment, then locked it. Though if things went wrong, a lock wouldn’t stop the demon. He opened the window and pushed out the screen, catching it before it could fall. He stuck his head out. Five floors down. He’d throw himself out the window if things started to go bad.

Breathing in the cold air, he closed his eyes and prodded the demon.

Mine?

What would you do to Asjhone if you were free?
He asked the demon.

Want Mine. Where Mine?

Answer the question. What would you do to her?
He brought up images from their past.

Blood.

Death.

Dismemberment.

He pictured Asjhone this way, even though it sickened him.

Then Keandre.

Both ripped apart.

The Other gorging on their intestines. Organs.

The demon roared so loud Sarid winced.
Mine! Mine!
Anger changed to fear.
Find Mine. Touch. Feel better. Find Mine. Need Mine. Touch.

Sarid’s hand was on the knob before he even realized it. The demon’s emotions so strong, he, too, felt the urge to make sure she was okay. He clenched his hand into a fist.
Listen to me. I need to know if you plan to hurt Asjhone or Keandre the next time you’re free. Have you been quiet, building your strength, so you can escape one last time? So you can kill them?

He wasn’t prepared for the demon’s response.

It bawled. Loud, shaking sobs. Tears pooled in Sarid’s eyes. The demon talked. Was incoherent. Sarid only caught every other word.
Mine.

I don’t understand.
He rubbed his eyes. This was ridiculous. Trying to extract a promise from a demon. Trying to communicate with it when their exchanges only involved promises of murder and begs for mercy.

The demon showed Sarid its own images. Of it holding Asjhone, holding Keandre, protecting them from danger.

He shuddered from visions of the Other holding Asjhone or the boy, but he couldn’t deny the demon’s intentions or its reaction.

It wouldn’t harm Asjhone or Keandre.

But that didn’t mean they might not come to harm if the demon ever got loose in their presence.

He slowly replaced the screen. Lowered the window and locked it before pulling the shade and drawing the curtain.

Sarid took out his phone and texted Gabe.

NOT PATROLLING 2NITE

Two seconds later his phone vibrated. Incoming call. He rolled his eyes. Should’ve known Gabe wouldn’t leave it at a text.

The demon stirred. Growled.

“Yes.”

“Yo, big guy. What’s going on?”

“I’m not patrolling tonight.”

“Is everything okay? Is it the Other? Of course, it’s the Other. Can I do anything? Do you need us to come over and—”

No! Will hurt the Pretty Boy if he comes anywhere near Mine.

“I am fine,” Sarid said. “It’s not the Other.”

“Oh.” His
ach
didn’t say anything else, but Sarid heard the unspoken question in the silence.

Well, he wasn’t going to answer it.

Sarid pulled the phone away from his ear, finger hovering over the end button, then brought the device back up to his ear. “Why haven’t you said a
nheqeba’s
lips get swollen after kissing?”

His partner liked to talk. A lot. Especially about sex. It’d been annoying at first. The descriptions his
ach
relished divulging about the females he’d been with. But since Sarid met Asjhone, he’d recalled those reports more than once. Gabe mentioned
nheqebas
liked kissing. And in his
ach’s
stories, the tearing off of clothes always followed.

Sarid’s body heated. Asjhone. Without clothes.

Another purr.

He quickly shut the thought, and image, down.

“Uh . . . what?”

Sarid repeated the question, impatience making his tone sharp.

There was a low chuckle. “That’s not the only lips that get swollen.”

He frowned. “What?”

His
ach’s
laugh broke off. “What’s going on, my brother?”

“Nothing,” he snapped.

A brief pause, then, “Anything that gets sucked on for a while will swell. It’s the body’s natural response.” Gabe’s tone was soft, gentle.

His frown deepened. “Well that can’t be pleasurable, for the female. Surely it must hurt.”

Gabe drew in a breath. Quick, sharp. “Sarid, you aren’t . . . You aren’t getting close to someone are you? You know the risks. Know what could—”

The demon’s growl was deep and loud. Sarid’s eyes flashed, giving the baby duck shower curtain a red hue.

He slammed his lids closed.

Breathed in.

Out.

Control.

“Sarid? Sarid, are you listening to me?”

This time the growl was all his. “I know!”

Softly, after a long moment, “Just be careful, my
ach
. Not only for the
nheqeba’s
safety, but for yours as well.”

“I will,” he snarled, hit the end button.

He didn’t need Gabe’s warning. The demon didn’t want to harm Asjhone, but it didn’t mean she was completely safe.

Strength and control, the two things needed to keep the demon on lockdown. Strength was a variable. To keep the demon inside, Sarid had to utilize his own energy. As the time between appearances grew longer, Sarid’s strength would wane and the demon’s would increase. If Sarid was injured on patrol, the demon could gain the upper hand.

Control was trickier for the demon to overcome, but not impossible. Disengagement from emotions and people worked in Sarid’s favor. It was easier to keep control if he didn’t get too excited or too angry. Too much of anything was never a good thing.

And having sex with Asjhone . . . would definitely qualify as too much.

So he’d stay. And he’d hug and kiss her, do all the things they’ve done so far, but nothing further.