Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (27 page)

She wasn’t a killer by nature. A pot stirrer, yes, and a goddess who reveled in creating chaos. But a killer? Only when someone got in her way. “And that’s what you think I am? What I do?”

“I think you bend the truth to gain your own ends. I think you’ve been doing that so long, you don’t even know what the truth is any longer.”

She dropped her hands and stepped back. “Oh hell, Rogan. If that’s the definition, do any of us know the truth any longer?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we’ve all been fighting this battle forever and the endgame never changes. The outcome never changes.”

The harsh set of his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Do you really feel that way?”

“Don’t you?”

“Then give it up.”

Eris had watched discord and discontentment grow for the endlessly long millennia of her life and she’d become quite adept at knowing when a conversation turned for the worse.

By her own estimation, this one just went off the rails.

“You want me to give up who I am? Give up my very identity?”

“Give it up for something better.”

“It’s who I am.”

“No, it’s who you choose to be. There’s a difference.”

Pain ripped through her with razor-sharp talons. When had his opinion come to mean so much? And now that she was faced with the realization that it wasn’t a very positive one, the urge to strike back—swiftly—reared up in response.

“Speaking of choices, you’ve conveniently forgotten you and your brothers have my apple. It belongs to me and I’m entitled to get it back.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s mine.”

“You can’t have it back.”

“Who the hell made you judge and jury?”

She’d never harbored the same sort of grudge against any of the Warriors that her sister did. Sure, they got in the way of her plans, but they weren’t enemies, per se.

They simply worked at cross-purposes.

But this?

She’d get what belonged to her and she’d continue with her plans. And Rogan Black wasn’t going to stand in the way.

She no longer had time for distractions.

Emerson stepped into the ceremonial circle and closed it behind her, anxious for the calming, soothing effects her magic brought her. She’d learned long ago that the power that lived within her skin had the beneficial side effect of calming her nerves and helping her find her center.

The grass was cold under her naked bottom, but she ignored it, absorbing the inherent power that lived latent in the earth. She allowed the evening breeze to float over her bare skin, coating her with its whispered secrets.

She knew she wouldn’t be out here long. The fall night had shed the warmth from the day, giving proof that winter was well on its way.

A few prayers wended their way through her mind, but she ignored them and instead focused farther inward. Into the core of herself and the secrets that lived in her heart.

Drake had accused her of unreasonable expectations and a harsh set of rules. Maybe that was true, but what else could she be?

What else could she expect of others?

She’d known what she was from the earliest age. Had reveled in that gift and hoped to use it for good. For the betterment of others.

So how was she supposed to respond to those who didn’t feel the same? To those who actively shunned their gifts and told her that she had to be different.

That she wasn’t good enough just as she was.

Wind whistled through the night sky and she abstractly felt the cold as she replayed the time at Veronica’s in her mind.

The instant warmth and acceptance. The reminder that they’d had something special once. A bond.

Sisterhood.

She’d had a long time to get over Veronica’s choices. To make herself into what she was. To hone the gifts she’d been given.

But Veronica hadn’t. What if she did go head-to-head with Magnus and lost?

“It’s awfully cold out here.”

Her eyes snapped open to see Drake holding a blanket.

“Come on. Get up and let me wrap you up in here.” She held up a hand, but before she could say anything, he added, “I know you’re inside a ceremonial circle. I won’t breach it. But I’d like you to dissolve it and come out.”

A small kernel of warmth pierced her heart as she nodded at his words.

He respected what she was doing. Respected the protection she’d created around herself.

With quick motions, she stood and dissolved the circle, offering her thanks to the goddess. Moving into the blanket Drake held up, she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Why are you out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I probably have something to do with that.”

“A little bit, yes, but not all of it.” She shrugged, the
blanket brushing the tops of her feet at the movement. “You were right to say something.” She padded over to the lawn chairs they’d sat on earlier, the vivid slash of memory taking her breath away as she thought about his hands on her.

His mouth.

The power in his body and the power that rose up between them when they made love.

He was right to say something. More than that, he was entitled.

When he was settled in the chair, she turned toward him, pulled her knees up to snuggle further under the blanket. “It’s more than judgment.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What if she can’t do it? What if she walks into a fight and can’t pull the trigger?” At the questions in his gaze, she added, “Metaphorically. Magnus is our brother. And despite all the things he may have done, nothing will change that. What if she can’t take him down when it’s necessary? And what if he takes her first?”

“The same could happen to you.”

The moonlight played off the green and gold of his eyes as their gazes met, and she saw the fear behind his words. Felt it in the quiet way he reached for her hand where it gripped the wooden arm of the chair.

“You think I don’t know that? He’s my brother, Drake. No matter what he’s done, I can’t change that simple, immutable fact. What if I can’t do it when the moment’s right? What if I’m put to that test?”

When he reached up and cupped her cheek, she leaned into his warmth. “Can I really do what it takes?”

D
rake followed Emerson into the house, the anger that had ridden them both when they’d arrived home from her sister’s nowhere in evidence. Instead, all he felt was a desperate need that coursed in time with the throb of his pulse.

Something had changed. Evolved, really.

He felt it in the gentle cadence of Emerson’s words and the softening of her gaze as she looked at him. Reaching for his hand, her words were quiet in the dark. “Come upstairs with me.”

He offered no response other than to take her hand and follow her.

They’d slept in the master bedroom the night before, but Drake looked on it with fresh eyes as they walked through the door. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, but instead of the expected old quilt to cover it, a heavy satin duvet lay across the top in a deep, rich purple. The color was a match for the bed and the room—rustic charm meets contemporary chic.

Oddly, the combination reminded him of Emerson.

She managed to straddle two universes—the magical history and power that coursed through her bloodstream and the contemporary world in which she lived. It was a heady combination.

The blanket she’d wrapped herself in outside floated to the floor and his little goddess stood naked in the moonlight. “Drake,” she whispered as she moved into the circle of his arms, “I want you.”

He wanted to question her—wanted to ask if the change he felt in her was real. If something
had
evolved between them and grown deeper. But he held back and focused on the moment, unwilling to risk ruining it for what the future held.

“I want you, too.” He leaned down and cupped her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers. “Always.”

Her fingers were light at his waist and made quick work of the jeans he’d hastily thrown on to go look for her. Her small hands ran the thick material down his body, stopping to linger on his backside with a sexy squeeze. The side of her breast brushed against his arousal, and the simple touch had him shuddering.

How could she do this to him? How was it even possible?

No matter how many times they were together, it was always like this.

Desperately needy and infinitely sweet.

She continued her unerring course to the floor, her fingers running languorously over his thighs, then his calves, until his jeans pooled on the floor. Before he could reach for her, her clever fingers were back at his waist, dragging his T-shirt up and over his head.

“Now, that’s
much
better.” Her smile gleamed in the moonlight as his shirt landed with a soft thud a few feet away. “Nothing like an even playing field.”

“I can’t argue with you there.” He bent his head to take her mouth, arousal heavy in the air between them. Her hands ran over his chest, across his pectoral muscles and up over his shoulders as the kiss spun out between them.

She was so tiny, the top of her head coming only to the upper part of his chest. Not for the first time, he wondered how a woman so small and so very delicate could make every inch of his large body ache.

Yet it did.

He burned for her—body and soul. It lived and breathed within him, a desperate, driving thing that consumed him from the inside out. Life without her was unimaginable.

And yet he knew—just as she did—that what they had was fundamentally fleeting. Their time would pass. This age would turn into the next.

No matter how fervently he wished it, she couldn’t see the next one with him.

Emerson wondered at the sadness that telegraphed to her from Drake’s large form.

Had she done something?

Dragging her lips from his, she placed both hands on his cheeks. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” With a slight shake of his head, he offered her a smile that didn’t quite reach the green of his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

She nearly stopped right there to force the issue, but
something held her back. No matter when they’d ever been together—in bed or out—he’d always been so strong. So completely in charge.

But the look on his face reminded her of that night so long ago.

The first night she’d seen him when she was a teenager, his head pressed to the door as his shoulders sagged, seemingly against the weight of the world. He’d captivated her in that moment, the contrast of outward strength with such a deep, inward struggle. She’d thought it long gone. But looking at him now—
sensing
it, really—she saw the familiar.

Saw the man she’d fallen in love with so many, many moons ago.

“Love me, Drake. Please.”

The words had the desired effect as whatever weight dragged on him evaporated. Before she could sense his intent, he had her up in his arms and moving them toward the bed. He followed her down onto the mattress, covering her with his large form.

She reveled in these moments, no matter how many times she told herself he was a drug she needed to quit cold turkey. Reveled in the feel of that large body covering her—
consuming
her. She felt small and protected and so very, very feminine.

When she was in his arms, she didn’t feel like she had to do everything on her own.

Didn’t have to
be
everything on her own.

When she was in his arms, she could be bare, both literally and figuratively.

Human.

Vulnerable.

When she was in his arms, the words she’d carried in her head her entire life—that no man could accept the power inside of her—quieted and faded away.

Drake shifted, moving down her body until his mouth was flush with her breast. The hard, urgent tug of need unfurled in her stomach as he ran his tongue over her nipple before dragging the tip fully into his mouth.

Oh God, he made her burn.

She clenched her fingers in the silk of the duvet as his mouth created the most wondrous sensations inside of her. While his tongue and lips teased one breast, he mimicked the motions with his fingers on her other. He plucked at the other nipple, groaning against her skin as the tip went hard in his hands.

Her own moan drifted into the air between them, soft and needy as he played her body like a virtuoso.

With lightning-quick movements, that hand shifted and moved unerringly to the apex of her thighs. Another moan welled up in her throat, heavier this time, as his fingers delved into her core in long, determined strokes. He had her to peak in moments, the greedy orgasm consuming her body in blazing waves of heat.

Before she could even catch her breath, he’d shifted and buried himself inside of her. “I need you.” His voice was ragged in her ear as he began to move. “Now.”

“Yes.” One word, dragged from her lips on another moan as her body clenched around him. “Oh yes.”

If there were any more words, Emerson couldn’t say. All she was—the entire world—coalesced in that moment.

In the two of them.

As the pleasure built inside her once more, their bodies pounding together in mindless need, she felt him stiffen on a heavy moan. “Emerson!”

His name fell from her lips as, together, they rode the moment.

And together, she realized, they shut out the rest of the world that desperately sought to push its way in.

“What do you need me to do?” Drake stared at the framed mirror Emerson had placed on the table earlier, abstractly aware of her bustling around in the kitchen.

“I need you to make sure I stay put and that I come out of the vision.”

“But you’ll be here.”

She moved over to the table with a teakettle and poured steaming water into a plain white mug. “Physically here, yes. But the vision will take me somewhere else.”

Drake was caught up short at her description. “Your soul?”

Emerson glanced briefly at the mirror before resting that grayish gaze on him. “Yes.”

“Are you sure you should do this? Maybe we should call your sister.”

“Come on. This is the only way.”

Drake nodded, even as his discomfort rose by the second.