Shadows of the Keeper (40 page)

“It is a Lumynari trait.”  He
grinned.  “One I enjoy.”

“Gah.  You would.  What
did you and my father discuss while I
slept the sleep of the dead during the
great battle into my womb?”
  She rolled her eyes, sauntering down the
wide shallow steps into heavenly hot water.

“I do not speak in this ridiculous
voice you enjoy impersonating.”

She waved him off.  “What
plots did you discuss with my deadly dad?”

“That you are incubating.”

“
What?
!”

“That you are—“

“I heard you, Bubba! 
Seriously?  You discussed
my
womb—“

“Of course.”

“Oh my God, Dezenial!” She splashed
him.

He torqued sideways.  “Ha! 
Missed!” Laughing together like kids, he guided her deeper into the water,
black hot liquid enveloping their bodies.  “It would seem your anger has
turned to purring.”

“You’re cut off from sex.  And
I’m shaving your head.  And snapping off your fangs—“

“You wouldn’t survive it.”

“Shut up.  I’m angry at you
right now.”

He sank into the water, pulled her
against him and licked her neck.

“Okay, I’ll be angry at you in a
minute.”

“Imp.”

She arched her neck to the
side.  “Wanna bite?”

“No, and I told you, I can’t. 
Cease with your teasing.  The final time I bite you, Keer’dra, your soul
will forever be possessed by mine.”

“Isn’t that what we are already,
soulmates?”

She felt his body change. 
Turning to look up at him, the playfulness vanished, replaced by a quiet
seriousness. “Tell me,” she whispered.

“It will change you.”

“What, I might finally be able to
bite back?”

Grinning, he shook his head, turned
her around and began washing her hair.  His hands, he noted, were massive
against her small shoulders.  Unable to resist, he reached around her,
cupping her breast, allowing its weight to sit in his palm.

“Two can play this game.”  She
reached back, cupping between his legs until he laughed, shrugging her hand
away.

Moaning, tilting her head back, she
enjoyed the luxury of her very own masseuse.  His growing hardness was too
good to pass up pressing back.  Without warning, she pushed away from him
and sniffed.  “What do I smell?”

“Dreadful stuff inhabitants from
your world dare call food.”

“Cinnamon rolls!”  She smacked
his arm.  “Move or die!”  Attempting to shove past him, his laughter
enveloped the room as she tried sidestepping him.  He encircled her small
waist, hauling her back against his nakedness.  Soapy hands roamed all
over her body, cleansing her while she squirmed, batted and swatted, struggling
to be free his iron grip.  Her stomach joined the fracas, rumbling its
annoyance at having suffered so long without nourishment.  Dezenial dunked
her, holding her down for several seconds.

Until the most intimate part of him
was unceremoniously yanked.

Howling, he pulled her free of the
water, slamming her against him again.  “For that, I should make you not
eat today.”

“Have you forgotten how much I like
fire?”

His voice was low and purposefully
seductive.  “Have you forgotten how much I enjoy the taste of you?” The
look on her face, torn between wanting to eat, and wanting to sexually play
caused him to laugh as he pushed her away.  “Go.  Get your
food.” 

She paused.  His grin was
beautiful, his body breathtaking as it submerged.  She dried off quickly
before she changed her mind and rejoined him.  Slipping a few times, she
squeaked, coming close to landing on her butt.

“Keer’dra!  You will harm
yourself, should you fall.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off,
wrapping the massive towel around her body, escaping to pursue delicious aromas
wafting free from the galley.

*   *   *   *   *

“You still search through your
books, why?” Emily asked, mouth full of warm bread slathered with melted butter
and apricot preserves.  She no longer cared how they came into possession
of such delights, so long as they never ran out.  She’d already wolfed
down two cinnamon rolls.  Decadent.  And was on her second cup of
coffee.  Life was good.

“Your vision,” Inzyr mumbled, preoccupied
by what he was reading.  “Checking against what . . . you saw.”  His
finger ran down the page, his muttering dropping down too low for Emily to
hear.  A strong hand clasped her shoulder.  Dezenial smiled down at
her, his gaze a soft caress before settling himself in front of his own plate
of food.  He made her blissfully happy; alive.

“So, what do you eat?  Fresh
kill still bleeding?”

“I prefer still living. 
Quivering, when pierced with my fork, adds a certain freshness to the flavor.”

“Disgusting.”

He stabbed something on his
plate.  Screaming pierced behind her.  Emily yelped, threw her arm
up, and dove halfway off her chair.  Male laughter erupted.  Like two
boys triumphant with an awful prank.  She glared at her father’s back, the
assassin returning to his books.

Dezenial still laughed.

She pulled her spoon back and
released.  Orange, sticky glob boomeranged through the air and landed squarely—

Girlish giggles filled the
apartment as Emily erupted from the table.  Dezenial lashed out, grasping
her towel.  She froze.  One more inch, and the towel would no longer
offer modesty. 

“Remove this.”

She glanced his iron grip on the
towel.  “You want me to remove the towel?  Here? 
You
said never to allow anyone to view my body.”

“This madness upon my flesh,
Keer’dra!”

She could have sworn snickering
slipped from her father.  She turned around, picked up a linen napkin—

“That’s too easy.  Lick it
off!”

“Well, if you insist.” 
Straddling his thigh, she dipped her head, very aware that certain naked parts
under the towel rubbed against his thigh.  She shifted, ever-so-slight
upon his leather-clad leg.  Warm tongue slowly grasped the bottom of
apricot preserves, and lapped upward.  Without warning, she suckled the
sweet into her mouth, catching his flesh as well.  A few seconds, and she
released him, grinning wickedly when she saw the slight raspberry mark her
mouth had left behind.  “Better?”

“My mating quarters are no longer
for use,” Inzyr announced dryly.

Emily watched Dezenial’s throat bob. 
“Something catch your tongue?”

He set her from him, giving her a
smack on her bum.  “She needs clothing.”

Inzyr grunted, pointing to the
couch near him.  Curious, Emily sauntered across the polished, cold
floor.  Her back scorched, passionate eyes following her while she licked
her fingers free of butter and jam.  Wiping them on her damp towel, she
examined the clothing.  The room filled with sounds of ooohs and
ahhhs.  Draped over the overstuffed couch, a long white skirt of softest
velvet, together with a silky, long sleeved white shirt waited for her.  For
the shirt, the cuffs were heavily embroidered with silver threads, a swirling
design identical to the hem of long, gauzy shirt.  The skirt looked to be
straight with a long side-split, the edges too done in the silver threading.  Both
pieces were beyond gorgeous.  Delicate.  Feminine.   

“This can’t be for me.”

“You do not approve?” Her father
paused, leather-bound tome in hand.

“They’re so . . .
pure
.” 
She fingered the fabric gently.  “Exquisite.”

Dezenial’s presence caressed her,
only a breath away, yet enveloping.  “I told you, a priest awaits us,
Keer’dra.  You are worthy of white,
Lady
Emily.”

She raised her eyes to find him
looking at her with raw emotion.  “I would have stepped away,” he said,
his deep baritone full of passion.  “But, I see your thoughts, and I know
your heart even when your words attempt to flay me.”  He traced her lips,
then cupped her face.  “Dress, Keer’dra.  I have made you mine in the
ways of my world, now I will take you in the tradition you recognize from your
realm of humans.  I will allow no doubt to remain in your mind, my claim
upon you.”  He dropped his hand, held her gaze for several more seconds
before turning away, where he stalked to another door she’d yet to
notice.  “I will not be kept waiting.  Inzyr, bring your daughter, as
is customary in her world and Olympus.”

Her father gave a short bow,
turning to his offspring.  “Your eyes leak.”

She swiped quickly, drying her
hands on her towel before lifting the beautiful clothing.  “Were these—“

“They were hers.”

“You married her?”

“Yes.  In nine thousand years,
she is the only female I ever made such a vow to.”

“Thank you,” Emily whispered,
clasping the fine fabric against her heart, bonding with the spirit of her
mother.

Inzyr held out his arm.  His
most prized possession shyly placed her tapered fingers around his forearm, and
drew close, smiling up at him.  He very nearly fell to his knees and
sobbed like a small child.  Though Emily was his image, her smile
definitely came from his beloved Kendra.  Her final gift to him, this
miracle—and maddening—legacy of a rare event for Lumynari: ability to love,
marry, and remain faithful.  Even now, twenty-four years after Kendra’s
passing, Inzyr had never shared his heart again.

Except with this amazing gift by
way of Kendra’s infinite love.  He felt his pride swell; his heart break, for
his beloved was not here.  Maybe, just maybe, having lit the appropriate
candles and prayed for several hours, his request had been heard and carried
out by the gods—that Kendra, from wherever her soul resided, would be granted
ability to look down and watch their daughter take her vows.

Upon a stone path littered with
fragrant rose petals, Emily soundlessly stepped.  He smiled
to himself.  His daughter clutched his forearm as if walking towards
her execution.  She was as beautiful and as brave as her mother had been .
. . and, he couldn’t refrain from feeling smug, as deadly and temperamental as
himself.  He breathed easier this day, lighter than he’d felt in a very
long time.  He knew Dezenial did as well.  This path had waited four
thousand years to come to pass; for her to walk into the arms of her 
life-mate.  The Claiming.  He hoped her shockingly fierce courage
would see her through what was about to transpire.  Not even Kendra had
been faced with what Emily was about to experience.  He had his
orders. 

Prevent her from bolting.

*   *   *   *   *

The presence of many was felt, but
remained nothing more than shadowy figures.  Dark hair was about all she
could make out.  Roses perfumed the air, coupled with an odd spicy scent
reminding her of cardamom, and something she couldn’t quite get enough
of.  Heavenly. 
Like those old timey candle shops back home where
various fragrances comingle.  Home.  No longer a state in some
parallel universe.  Nope. 
Home would now be wherever Dezenial
was.  A smile teased her lips.  She inhaled again.  Ah, now she
recognized the scent, the same one that seemed to cling to Dezenial when she’d
first been whisked into his arms after Peter’s attack.

Golden bowls of flames, placed on
tall marble pillars, romantically illuminated the dais.  If she didn’t
know better, she’d swear she was in a Greek temple.  White columns swirled
upwards to such heights, if she craned her neck back, she’d topple.  And
wouldn’t that leave an impression with the guests she still could sense more
than see?  An elderly man, draped in long lavender robes, studied her as
she and her father drew near.  Where was Dezenial?  Her foot upon the
first wide, shallow step, Dezenial casually strode into the firelight, his eyes
smoldering down at her.

Emily faltered.

Her father’s grip on the small of
her back tightened.

Her warrior was clad in
white
! 
And she thought he’d looked hot in black!  Just as her tunic was
embroidered with loops and swirls of silver threads, Dezenial’s was nearly
identical, though left open, baring his muscular chest and tapered waist. 
Silver-ribboned cuffs grazed his magical fingers.

Breathe, Emily
, she schooled
herself. 

His white suede leggings with
tightly braided seams hugged magnificent thighs incased in boots of palest
skins.  His hair was left flowing, firelight heightening its luminosity.

Gently, she grasped her long skirt,
terrified she’d trip over the beautiful silver hem. And continued to ascend
towards a being she was madly in love with.  He watched her with open
possessiveness.  It kinda made her toes curl and her insides go squishy,
and swell with enormity of being loved by such a powerful creature.  His
lopsided grin made her giggle. 

He looked . . .
angelic
.

White brow arched down at her.

Okay, almost angelic
. She
rather hoped the
angelic
would go no further than his clothing. 

She liked the idea of having her
very own bad-boy.

A flash of humor crossed his
chiseled face.

Her father placed her hand into
Dezenial’s outstretched one of strength.  “I gift you, Lord Dezenial, my
daughter’s body, blood, and soul to keep.  Should you fail in the endeavor
I entrust you with, your own body, blood and soul I will eliminate from this
world, as well as exterminate you from next.”

Dezenial bowed his head.

“Did he just threaten you?” Emily
whispered.

“Yes,” Dezenial whispered back.

Emily felt suddenly very, very shy.

Dezenial pulled her protectively
closer, guiding her to stand before the man of cloth.  The priest’s words
droned and blurred.  Finally, something she recognized, though it hit her
much more strongly than chick flicks she’d dabbed her eyes in front of, a
lifetime away from here.  Dezenial, proud Lumynari prince over all Shadow
Masters, spoke words from her world, promising to honor and protect through
sickness and in health until his dying breath—though he added his love would
carry over into the beyond.  She repeated his sentiment.  She thought
they would kiss.  He shocked her again by producing a silver band and placing
it on the fourth finger of her left hand.  Tears left glittery trails down
her cheeks.

“Now, wife, you will take
my
oath.”  Her new husband uttered words, translating them into
English.  Emily found herself swearing allegiance to him, and to the
Lumynari.  Dressed similar to the Grim Reaper, a faceless warrior
presented a gold dagger, reminding her, even on this fantastic day, potential
death surrounded her.

“Inzyr, escort the priest from the
temple.”

“As you command, my liege.”

Emily found herself curious and
apprehensive.  The elderly clergy pat her shoulder on his way to being
ushered out.  Atmosphere shifted.  Something huge was about to
transpire.

God, don’t have them kill a goat
.

“We don’t do that, Keer’dra.” 
Dezenial squeezed her hands, then let them go.  “
This
time, I offer
you a choice.  My blood to course through you, binding you to me for
eternity.”  His head reared a bit.  “I will have your blood as well,
this time, coursing through me.  I will never be able to find
satisfaction, nor tolerate the sight of another.  This I offer you. 
Soulmates.  Do you accept?”

He wanted her forever. 
Beyond
forever.  Only her.  Emotional, her throat tightened.  She
whispered her agreement to his offered gift.  Relief flooded his eyes,
though lasting only seconds, it revealed volumes to her.  Her right wrist
was grasped, the blade wielder tossing back his hood.

This was no Lumynari warrior
standing before her!

Emily gawked.  Dezenial
shrugged free his tunic, and held out his own arm.

“Lady Emily, I complete the bond
that has entwined you with my son for over four thousand years.  This can
only be performed by a god.”  Hades leaned closer to Emily.  “That
would be me,” he whispered. “And with the blade of Zeus, forged in the fires of
Mt. Olympus.”

“Hades?” she squeaked.  “The
real
Hades?”  Emily swayed.  Hades’ grip tightened.

When Dezenial resumed speaking,
Emily instinctively knew he no longer spoke Balkorian.  Hearing the
language touched something deep within her.  She wanted to both laugh and
cry, as if she’d finally come home after being lost for an immeasurable amount
of time.  Dezenial’s voice grew, a singsong timbre she’d yet to hear from
him.  Hypnotically, she stared into his gorgeous almond shaped azure eyes.

Hades delicately sliced across her
palm.

She refused to cringe.

Her husband returned her trancelike
stare, his voice escalating as his own palm received the same treatment. 
Scent of spice filled the room.  Her mouth watered. 

Weird
.

Drums began, starting off softly,
beating louder and louder, Dezenial’s chant matching their powerful
tempo.  Their palms were thrust together, raised above their heads,
clamped by Hades’ tight grasp.  Emily’s head fell back.  Buzzing
filled her ears.  Dezenial’s head fell forward.  A slight shake, he
looked to her, his eyes crimson.

He silenced.

Fangs were longer, sharper and
gleaming in the temple’s firelight.  Drums beat wildly as man and wife
stared at each other.  Emily noted not a drop of blood coursed down their
arms from the open wounds on their palms. Truly now, they flowed into the
other.

“Now, Dezenial, you will complete
the bond.  She
must
accept who and what you truly are,” Hades
commanded.  His voice was as powerful as the drums.

“Dez?”

A hand clamped down hard on her
shoulder.  Why was her father immobilizing her?

“You now flow through him as he
does you, daughter, but the taking is not complete,” Hades stated.

“There’s more?” she whispered,
eyeing her new father-in-law.  Smoky gray skin, a color similar to
Dezenial’s, but the similarity—except for breadth of shoulders—stopped
there.  Where Dezenial had glowing white hair, Hades’ was blue black,
though just as long.  Her gaze snapped to her husband.  “What are you
hiding from me?”

Dezenial remained silent, watchful. 
Her pounding heart cadenced in his head.  Would she deny him? 
Scream?  Demand freedom?

Were they about to sacrifice
her?  Was that it?  Panic rioted within.  Her new husband
abruptly raised his arm.  Absurd thought before her death, for surely this
was the part where he plunged the dagger into her heart, but
shit-hell-damn
,
he was magnificent shirtless!

Drums ceased.

Emily sensed he was torn. 
Nervous.  A Lumynari hesitant?  Her fear increased tenfold.

“I am your life-mate.”

“As I am yours,” she muttered,
eyeing his raised hand.

“Now, son,” Hades growled.

Inzyr’s hold tightened. 
Painfully.  His body braced against her backside.

“Dez?”

No sound.  No warning. 
Not even a twitch from his body.

Wings unfurled from his back.

Emily gasped.  Subconsciously,
she pressed back against her father.  Wings.  Featherless.  Like
a dragon.  Gigantic.  And still expanding.  Flapping ever so
elegantly.  Flames rollicked where there should have been irises.  
This
,
she’d seen before.  But not the flames at his feet.

Sixth sense screamed
Run
!

He had watched over her since
birth.

Run!

He had loved her since before she
breathed in this lifetime.

Escape!

Emily pat her father’s hand, and
stepped from his clutch.  Holding Dezenial’s stare—promising to later
examine the fact that Hades had begun to float—she took one unwavering step closer
to Dezenial.  “Well, at least you don’t have horns.”

His grin caused her heart to
skip.  His fangs gleamed. 

“I love you,” she said, caring
little who heard such an intimate declaration.  “You’re going to have to
do a lot worse to scare me off . . . but, uh . . . can we so use you to scare
the kids on Halloween night?”

Hades barked laughter.

“Come to me, Keer’dra.  The
ritual is not yet complete.”

“I get my own wings?”

“I like this girl,” Hades muttered.

“I take your soul.”

“Oh, well,” She widened her eyes at
Hades.  “Why didn’t you say so?”

His hand held out, she refused to
hesitate.  Immediately, his wings enfolded around her, his breath
hot.  Her body shuddered.  Flames at his feet shifted to include her,
his hold tightening around her waist.  Their eyes locked and held, his
hand coming up, cupping the back of her head and pulling back until her neck
was tightly arched.

“Mine, Keer’dra. 
Mine
,”
he growled.

Fangs sank into delicate
flesh.  And though she winced at first, a myriad of delicious sensations
coursed through her.  She saw the first time she’d been his lover, in a
life far removed from this age.  A sensation of floating, a forest slowly
blurred.  Mist cleared and she observed his frantic search for her only to
arrive in time to ease her passing into death.  His pain profound, she
watched as he traveled deep beyond Balkore. 
Three thousand years
,
she heard someone mutter.  Inzyr?  Dezenial again, as if she hovered
over his shoulder.  He held her at birth.  She saw her mother, agony
and joy marring her soft features.  He was searching again. 
Frantic.  Drakar’s name there, in his thoughts.  His heart swelling
when she’d toddled to him completely trusting.  Throughout her life, she
now saw him hidden in the shadows, protecting, and aching . . . aching with
need, denying himself, her safety paramount.  Tighter, she held him,
feeling him drink of her, knowing she experienced what no living human had: her
ancient soul singing, rejoicing, then sighing deeply, content to once again
belong to her beloved.

*   *   *   *   *

Heavy skirt, and a shirt resembling
more a corset than clothing appropriate for this cold underground city, made
her snort.  “Definitely picked out by male species.”

Inzyr was incredulous.  “You
object?”

Emily held up the pieces.  “As
soon as you two allow me to select my own clothes, jeans and sweaters are going
to rule the day.”

Inzyr scoffed.

“Don’t tell me my mother wore these
types of outfits?”

“It is how she conceived you.”

“Alrighty then.”  Emily
stormed off to her private chambers to change.

And obsessed in the full length
mirror.  Sexy.  Imperial.  The long skirt swished, light as
breath against the tops of her feet.  A long slit to her thigh allowed
ease of movement.  And an erotic view with each step of her leg. 
And
what a leg
! 
Since when do I have shapely thighs?  Toned
calves?  All this walking has paid off.  Take
that
, Julia
Michaels!
She ran a hand across her abdomen. 
There’s something to
be said about weapons training
.  Her solitary complaint was the way
the corset cupped her breasts and pushed them upwards. 
Only thing
missing are a pair of Victoria’s Secret wings. Gah!