Obsidian Flame (48 page)

Healthy.

Strong.

Ready.

The scent of the earth rolled toward him in beautiful sweet waves. He was fully erect and what he needed was in front of him, the angel who had given her blood twice to save his life, the woman meant for him, his
breh,
and he would have her.

He looked past her and saw Thorne staring down at Marguerite, his body arched over hers, his hand at her nape. He leaned to her ear and said something. Then they vanished.

A shiver chased down his neck and spine.

Sex was in the air, in the room.

He took Grace’s hand and pulled her toward him, between his legs. She shook her head.

“Yes,” he responded.

*   *   *

Grace stood over Leto, willing.

Yet not willing.

Oh-so-ready.

Yet frightened.

All that she desired was in front of her. She was damp between her legs, and little shivers chased up and down her inner thighs until she was trembling.

Her lips were parted.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her efforts at poetry had been one thing, but this banquet before her, this decadent feast, was quite another. He was a rich roast beef, smothered in wine sauce, when all she’d eaten for a century was sticks of celery and chunks of hard cheese.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m afraid of this path.”

“Do you want to go back to the Convent?”

She realized she hadn’t thought of the Convent once since leaving with him, since her obsidian flame power had emerged in the form of the earth, rising up through her body, and guiding her to Moscow Two so that she could save him.

No, the Convent had not been in her thoughts. Yet the reason for going there in the first place was. In her most essential being, Grace was old and very spiritual. Not religious, but she held spirituality as one of the highest forms of human existence, touching the heavens, the purest form of thought, the potential of the vampire nature.

The Convent had meant decades of serious study, of all the religions of Mortal Earth, and most certainly the unifying doctrines of the Creator’s Church of Second Earth.

But the study of how man, whether ascended or not, always turned a form of spiritual enlightenment into the timber and plaster framework of communal worship was still not what drew her to service and devotion. What drew her was a love of the divine.

And yet …

And yet, the whole time she had been locked away, studying, seeking her own enlightenment through prayer on her knees for hours at a time, she had written her erotic verses. The dichotomy she understood very well: She was human, she was vampire, and she could not escape the call of passion and of joining, flesh-to-flesh. Even seeing baby Helena asleep on Marguerite’s shoulder had brought an entirely new stream of sensations flowing through her body.

Now here was Leto, shedding his fragrant forest scent all over again, the one that had engulfed her in the infirmary at the Mortal Earth colony.

“You brought me,” she whispered. “When you took my blood.”

“You brought me as well,” he said, nodding. “And you’ve saved me twice.”

“Did Havily’s blood heal you permanently? Are you well now? Can you move forward in your life and survive?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to live?”

His gaze drifted away from her, his expression as stricken as if she had put a cup over his flame.

When he met her gaze again, he said, “I don’t know, Grace. I know that I want you as I haven’t wanted a woman before. I know this is the
breh-hedden.
I ache for you. I crave to take possession of you and I would take you now, if you would allow it. As for living, I’m not sure a future is what I deserve.”

She turned away from him and the chasing shivers suddenly left her body. Her life had never been simple, and now this wasn’t going to be simple, either.

She wanted to give herself to him. Part of her wanted to open her arms and take him to her breast, hold him fast, keep him forever. She had always admired the Warriors of the Blood because she shared with them the quality of commitment. Whatever their manly parts, their size and strength, their ability to wield a sword and slay the enemy, to battle and to kill, they were above all devoted and loyal.

Which led her back to Leto’s traitorous activities of the past centuries. She felt the depth of his guilt and how his guilt now undermined his will to live. She felt it in each breath he took.

As for herself, the sudden presence of Leto in her life still only addressed one half of it.

The other half belonged to her most essential self, that part of her that was devoted not just to the Creator, or to service, but to true spirituality and growth.

She couldn’t deny that this was who she was in her deepest self. And though she had certainly enjoyed sexual pleasure while lying in his arms at the Mortal Earth infirmary, while clothed and with a sheet between them, a surrender at this point would have significantly more meaning. To give herself to Leto now was a commitment.

She understood the
breh-hedden
perhaps better than he did because Thorne had given many reports of it, how it had afflicted Kerrick and Alison, and the other warriors and their women. She saw how it affected him now. It always brought change and—perhaps more important—a complete shifting of purpose and drive.

She had her purpose and she couldn’t imagine that changing. Still, she smelled Leto and his primal scent worked in her body, reminding her of every poetic couplet she’d created over the past hundred years.

“I am unworthy of you,” he said.

She turned back to him, horrified. “Is that what you think I’m pondering right now?”

“It would be natural.” He held his palms out and stared at them. “I have so much innocent blood on my hands and even more in the future.”

She moved to him so fast it was a blur of speed. And since she dropped to her knees, he jerked backward, stunned.

But she took his hands and held them tight. She stared into his clear blue eyes. “You are worthy, Leto, a thousand times over, a thousand times more than you believe.”

His breath was ragged. “Do you know what you smell like to me? The most fragrant earth, clean and pure with just the faintest hint of sweet wildflowers.” His hand found the back of her neck. She liked it there, almost possessive, very intimate.

“You’re the forest to me, Leto, heavy and wild, dark, foreboding, exciting.”

He groaned softly. “Let me kiss you.”

She felt the pressure on her nape and she allowed him to pull her toward him until his lips found hers. A tingling traveled over her lips, so enticing. Her lips parted and his tongue dipped just a little, rimming her mouth, gliding over the edge of her teeth.

She had forgotten, truly, she had forgotten how wonderful it was to have the physical connection, the touch. She had loved kissing her husband and it had been a very long time.

He moaned softly as he pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. The little shivers returned to skate up and down the insides of her thighs, little guiding lights aimed at the well of life, the place where such swelling took place, such rising of pleasure to the point of ecstasy.

He dragged her up until she lay against the breadth of his warrior chest. This was the moment that brought home to her all the physical truths of what giving him up would mean. He kissed her hard now, his tongue working her mouth the way his cock would work the deep, dark part of her body. He held her in his powerful heavy arms so that she was pressed against his muscled chest and through the thin layer of his shirt and her gown, she could feel the dips and swell of him.

Her mind began to grow very lax, very loose, as though the scent that now engulfed her was like the heavy blanket of dry summer forest air. She couldn’t quite think.

But as he kissed her, another image intruded, of a handsome face, dark eyes, and long curly hair.

Casimir.

A trembling began at the soles of her feet, pulling at her. She couldn’t help that she drew slowly away from Leto until she stood upright and flat-footed on the woven antique carpet of Warrior Medichi’s living room.

She closed her eyes and held her arms wide, her palms flat and facing upward toward the ceiling. The strange energy began to ripple up her legs, through her hips, and up through her torso.

Then Leto’s hands were suddenly on her face.

She opened her eyes and for a moment, the energy diminished. But she shook her head. “Something is wrong, Leto. I can’t explain it.”

A strange collection of words suddenly flowed through her head, accompanied by an almost singing quality, almost like music:
To not love them both, is to lose them both.

“I can’t do this with you, not yet. I want to, but…”

“It’s Casimir, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “He’s my
breh
in the same way you are.”

Leto sank back down on the couch. He looked as though she’d kicked him.

To not love them both, is to lose them both.

“Leto, you must listen to me. Our fates are intertwined with Casimir’s. I can’t explain it but you must accept that. At all costs, he must live. And now, I have no explanation except that it’s a message that has come through my obsidian flame power. Tell me you understand.”

Leto closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. “I have understood nothing for a hundred years. I’ve lived a life I’ve deplored, one that went against every belief, every tenet of my soul. Now the
breh-hedden
comes when I’m ready to pass from ascension, brings you to me, but I’m not allowed to possess you. So no, I don’t understand.”

Grace waited. The one thing she had learned in the Convent was the power of waiting, of patience. How her sister would have laughed at the irony that Grace had to go into a convent to learn to be her sister’s namesake.

She waited now. She settled her spirit down, that part of her that wanted to crawl into Leto’s arms, to touch him low, to give to him every erotic experience she had imagined through the decades. She drew a single deep breath and willed him, if not to understand, then to accept.

Finally, he opened his left arm. His smile might have been crooked and his clear blue eyes may have still been full of sadness, but she saw his acceptance.

She slid next to him and put her head on his shoulder as he surrounded her with his arm. How safe she felt like this, with his powerful muscles holding her close to his heart.

But she could feel the truth: that hell was about to break wide open, if not tonight, then in the early hours of the morning.

But she knew what to do.

She would rise early.

And she would pray.

*   *   *

“Do you know what I’ve loved?” Thorne asked. He lay flat on his back, in his Sedona bed, and Marguerite rode him, one of his favorite positions because he could see her. All of her.

“What have you loved?” she asked, tilting her pelvis just a little.

He groaned. It was getting difficult to hold back. When he’d been outside with Marcus and the rest of the brothers, he’d gotten so worked up. It was different now, because of the
breh-hedden.
A kind of communal response had resulted so that Marcus’s suffering had become his, and shit how he’d needed this with Marguerite.

She dipped forward and kissed him. The forward movement of her body stroked him so hard that he could have come just like that, but he wanted the moment to last.

“What do you love?” she asked again, keeping her rhythm strong.

“This. Getting to make love to you anytime I want to. Sometimes when I had to wait until dawn I thought I’d crawl right out of my skin.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Her back arched slightly, and the strength of her internal muscles tugged so that he hissed. Her deep rose scent flowed over him in a sudden heavy wave that plowed into his sinuses and brought his own back arching.

Marguerite eased back, slowing down. He took deep breaths.
Good,
he sent. He had his eyes closed.
I want this to last.

Me, too. You’re so beautiful, Thorne. Have I told you that? Have I told you how much I love just looking at you?

He opened his eyes. Her lips were dark, swollen, and parted. He wanted to rim her with his tongue but he feared moving. He was on the knife-edge of orgasm and it felt fantastic.

Marguerite smiled suddenly.

“What?”

“I just realized that if all your warrior gatherings end that way, you know, with all you men worked up, I’m in.”

He laughed and his body bounced, but it eased him back just a little, which was good. “I want something from you?”

Her body shivered as she rose up and down on his column.
Anything,
she sent. She leaned closer and moved faster. “I think I know what you want. There’s this ball of light—”