Deliver Me from Darkness: A Novel of the Paladin Warriors (27 page)

“Christos made sure I knew, though. They’d saved my sister for last. My pregnant sister. I was in midst of the change, the fire of Christos’s blood burning me alive from the inside out, and all I could do was watch helpless as they tore her apart.”

Silence descended in the cabin. She wanted to go to him, wrap him in her arms, but she knew instinctively that at this moment he’d reject her offered comfort. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let things go at that.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what happened to them and to you. But mostly I’m sorry that you think it’s your fault.”

His mouth hardened. “It is my fault.”

“No. It’s not.”

“If I’d gone for the others first—”

“They’d still be dead.”

His eyes shuttered. “It was my weakness that—”

“We all have weaknesses.”

His jaw ticked. Silence. “I’ve killed. And not only monsters, or men with black souls. I’ve killed innocents.”

“Recently?”

“No,” he practically grumbled, a reluctant admittance.

“How long ago?”

He looked away, refusing to meet her gaze, yet he did answer. “Eighty-nine years.”

“Eighty-nine—” she snapped her mouth closed. Of course, duh, he was a vampire, only…“Wait. Logan. I thought you two have been friends since before you were turned?”

“We were. If it hadn’t been for Calhoun’s belief in me, I would have never made it back from that time of darkness. I may not have a soul, but it is because of him that I was able to regain some small measure of my humanity.”

She was quiet a moment. Her own emotions regarding Logan were mixed. He’d helped her, but he’d also tried to claim her. Without explaining why, without asking permission. He’d tried to steal her from her mate. Yet, if what Roland was saying were true, then Logan had also saved her mate. She supposed, for that alone, she had to forgive him.

She pulled herself from her thoughts only to notice Roland watching her intently, studying her.

“What?”

“He’s a good man,” he said softly.

She scowled. Twice now Roland had said things like that. It was as if he were trying to push her away and into Logan’s arms. Well it wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t want to talk about Logan.

“How old are you?”

“How old?”

“Yes. I mean how old were you when…” She waved helplessly at her neck.

“Ah.” He took a deep swallow. “Hmm…let’s see. I’m currently two hundred and fifty-three and I’ve been like this, oh, about ninety-four years now.”

Two hundred and fifty-three! She felt her knees buckling, but then Roland was there, holding her up with a hand under her elbow. She lifted her chin, trying to find a sense of calm in face of his revelation. “Is that…will I?”

This time he actually chuckled before becoming serious once more. “Well, you obviously have Paladin blood in you. So technically you could live thousands of years.”

Thousands. Holy crap. Another thought occurred to her. “But you’ll live longer. You’ll live forever now, won’t you?”

Could that be why he didn’t want to claim her? Because he didn’t want to be tied to a woman who would die and leave him alone again?

“No.”

“No what?”

“Yes, it will kill me when you die, but that is not what keeps me from claiming you.”

She didn’t ask how he knew what she was thinking. She already knew the answer. Their bond, even if unrecognized, was getting stronger. She wondered if he realized it and what he planned to do about it if he was as set against claiming her as he seemed to be. “Then what?”

He sighed, dropping her elbow and taking a step back so he was leaning against the counter again. “You deserve to have options. Being bonded to a man with no soul is not fair to you.”

She didn’t bother arguing with him on the issue of his soul, already realizing it was a lost cause. “I’ve been shown my options, and I’ve made my decision. I want to be with you. I’ll be happy with however long I have left, as long as I’m with you.”

“After fifty or so years of hiding from the world, fifty more with no children, no one but me, you might change your mind.” He didn’t move a millimeter, but she could see the rigid lines etched in his muscles.

“I won’t.”

“You can’t know that. You don’t know how lonely this existence can be.”

She stepped closer, laying her hands on the counter on either side of his hips. This close she could feel his heat, this close, even without touching, she could sense his desire. Stronger indeed.

“It can’t be as lonely as living my life without my s—” she almost said soul, damn, “heart mate.”

He looked unconvinced, yet he couldn’t hide the want. It wasn’t just the bond now; his eyes were starting to glow that deep blood red again. A slight shift of her hips had his erection pressing into her stomach. Oh yes. He needed her as much as she needed him.

“I don’t know all the fancy words. I only have myself to give, but…” She raised her hand, meeting his gaze as she placed it on the bottom of his throat. She had no idea what she was doing, but she put all her desire for this to work, for her pleas to be heard, her prayer for a chance to be answered, into her next words. “As you are for me, I am for you. All that I am, I give to you. So that you shall know me, as I shall know thee: body, heart, soul.”

Her hand tingled. Roland sucked in a breath, his pupils flaring as the skin under her palm warmed.

All of a sudden it was more than his emotions or even a shadow of his thoughts.
She
knew
what
he
was
thinking.
And the word racing through his mind over and over again: Impossible.

His shock gave way to joy, then anger. She almost recoiled before she picked up on the reason for that anger: He still didn’t think he had a soul. Large pools of liquid formed along the bottom rim of her eyes. Her heart twisted in her chest, her soul howling for its mate.
See
me. I’m here. We are one.

The next instant his anger was replaced by resolve. She could still sense his belief that he had no soul, but he was determined not to disappoint her. At least, not if he could help it.

She began to tremble with anticipation, her senses revved to a hyper-awareness. One of his large hands wrapped around hers over his throat, and an instant later his other was gently circling the base of her neck. Her heart rate spiked; having gone through this twice and not liking the results she was decidedly nervous, but then he was in her mind, shushing her with a gentle caress.

“Amazing,” he said aloud. His words were as incredulous as his tentative touch had been, as if he still couldn’t believe this bond between them was real.

“It is.”

“It shouldn’t be. What you did was primitive, a mixing of ceremonies.”

She jutted her chin out. “So?”

“So nothing,
mon
petite
peste
.”

“Roland, so help me God, if you don’t stop stalling and get on with this.”

He started chanting, the words a beautiful flowing of vowels and consonants similar to Latin, but not. Some of it she recognized from earlier, but she sensed, instinctively, that there was more. Finally, when her body was tingling all over, her very being seeming to lift from her core, he finished with, “All I have, everything I am, is yours. My life for yours. My heart for yours. My soul…”

He swallowed, closing his eyes. She placed a finger over his lips. “Shh…I don’t want that anyway. True love would never ask for the sacrifice of another for themselves.”

His lids opened, revealing his haunted eyes. “But if I had one, and the need arose, I would have gladly sacrificed it if it meant saving you.”

She knew he would. Which is why she thought perhaps it was better that he thought he didn’t have one. She’d rather die, rather have her very being extinguished from the very fabric of time, than to have his destroyed.

He growled. “Don’t you dare even think that.”

“Why not? You think that way.”

He bent over, dropping his forehead against hers. “By the Father, Karissa, I can’t even promise…I don’t have…”

She felt the raging incompetence he experienced. A ripping of his perceived manhood that was soul deep.
Soul
deep. Why couldn’t he realize that?

He lifted his head, grabbing onto her shoulders, and stared at her with an intensity that burned into her core. “I can protect you. I can love you and cherish you. That’s all I have.”

“Then love me. Make love to me and truly make me yours.”

Roland stared down at her, her challenge ringing in the vaults of his being. Make love to her, and make her his. Yes.

Before any of his personal demons could rear their ugly heads again, he scooped her up and raced with her to the bedroom. She gasped when he dropped her onto the bed and giggled when she bounced, but then went silent, her eyes widening to saucers when, in one motion, he had her shirt ripped off—and not over her head.

“Stay there,” he commanded, and went about removing his clothes. He’d taken the weapons off earlier, before sliding into bed with her that first time, so it was quick work to remove his pants and T-shirt. The way she was drinking in his naked body was heady indeed, but he didn’t stop to bask. He had to do this quickly. It was the only way he’d survive.

Not
too
quickly. Otherwise she won’t relax and if she doesn’t relax…

Right.

He forced himself to slow down, easing over her, and since he wasn’t completely gone yet, he gave her what her upturned face demanded: a kiss. It was short and sweet and tender and not nearly enough, but all he dared. Pulling his mouth away, he bent down to another area of her body that was begging for attention, taking and rolling first one peaked nipple, then the other around in his mouth with his tongue.

He’d half expected his canines to elongate while he was doing so, and had been careful to keep his mouth light upon her, but they didn’t. There was no blind lust, no driving need to feed, only her sense of wonderful discovery as her body throbbed and tingled under his touch.

Their bond. It was going to be his lifeline.

Emboldened, he deepened the kiss upon her breast until he was suckling the pink disk deep into his mouth. She gasped, her hands coming up to grip at his shoulders, her uneven nails digging into his flesh. He repeated on the other.

Still no desperate bloodlust.

He wrapped one arm around her back, his palm flat as he slid it up along her spine. With the other he lifted her until she was sitting up and perched on one of his knees.

Gawd, she was already dripping wet, the heat of her center pooling on his thigh above his knee. He could feel it, smell it, and when she started to rotate her hips back and forth against him, he went wild with it.

“Stop. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” she countered, and then blasted him with a riot of sensations that showed him how exquisite the action of rubbing herself against the coarse hairs on his muscled leg felt.

Holy crap, how did she learn to do that?

“You’re doing it too,” she teased, nipping at his bottom lip. “I can practically feel the blood boiling in your cock.”

“Hell.”

“No,” she purred. “This is a far, far cry from hell.”

He chuckled, nuzzling the curls that had drifted down over her forehead. “I’m going to have to agree with that.”

“Now if you had said ‘fuck me…’” She emphasized this with another little grind against his leg.

He growled, fighting the red haze trying to overtake his vision. For pure matters of self-preservation he lifted her off him, plopping her down on the cool sheets.

She pouted, her lower lip jutting out. “Now, that’s the opposite of what I had in mind.”

He couldn’t look at her and keep control. So he focused on staring at the rough panels of the walls instead. He knew he was disappointing her so he tried to explain. “Give me a minute. I need to cool off a bit and—”

A finger pressed against his lips. He turned his gaze back to her. Her eyes were soft, filled with understanding. “It’s okay, I feel it. We can take our time.”

The red haze didn’t recede. If anything it got a toehold and latched on. “I’m afraid that won’t be enough.”

“It will be. And I’ll help you.” She pressed her lips to his, her tongue darting along the line of his mouth. Pleasure, joy, a sense of rightness flooded into him from her. Yes. When nothing happened to signify that he was about to lose further control, he returned in kind, tracing the plump fullness of her lips.

She moaned, her mouth parting wider. As if it had a mind of its own, his tongue took the chance and plundered, thrusting into her mouth and swiping the velvety softness of her tongue. The sensations became so intense that the world narrowed to this moment, her mouth, their fencing tongues.