Genesis: A Soul Savers Novella (14 page)

“It’s getting dark. We should find a place for camp, don’t you think?”

His mouth pulled into a wide grin and his eyes glinted. He understood.

With little light left to find anything better, Cassandra led Niko back to the cave she had slept in last night. He collected firewood along the way and built them a fire while she tied Fig to a tree just outside. She didn’t get new linen for a peplos or new sandals, but she did get grain and olive oil so she was able to make the bread she’d been craving so much. It was all they had to eat, but she had what she wanted—her body had bread and her soul had Niko.

They lay down on the single fur pelt she had, pressing together so they could both fit, and she realized her body really wanted Niko, too. Her heart pounded against her chest and against his, too, as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The passion rose just as quickly as before, perhaps because it had never entirely left. She kissed him back with a fervor she didn’t know she had, tasting his lips, his tongue, his skin as their mouths moved over each other’s faces.

Her hands slid through his hair as his moved over her back, down her side, along her thigh. He kissed her jaw line, her throat, her collarbone. She gasped as he moved to her breast, kissing her hardened nipple through the peplos. Her body felt hot and shaky. Her breasts felt tight and ached for another touch. As if knowing what she wanted, his hand gently squeezed the fullness, his thumb ran over the nub and then he pinched it, making her moan. In one swift movement, he had her belt undone and her peplos over her head. She quaked as his appreciative gaze slid over her naked body.

His fingers brushed between her breasts, made circles around her belly, making it quiver. They came back up and cupped her breast as his mouth lowered to it. His tongue flicked her nipple, rolled it around and then his mouth clamped down and it felt as though he sucked a line that came straight from her groin. Another moan escaped her lips.

He moved his mouth to her other breast as his hand glided along her body, stroking heat that spread along her skin. He slid his hand under her, along her backside and thigh, down to her calf. He hitched her leg over his hip and she felt him hard and hot against her. He moaned at the touch. And in another swift motion, his chiton was off and Cassandra drank in the sight of his bare body.

Their mouths moved together, against each other, kissing, licking, sucking. Their hands explored each other’s bodies, learning the dips and rises and curves, their breathing becoming ragged. After a moment’s hesitation, she took him in her hand and found him rock hard. He throbbed against her as she stroked and Niko moaned.

They played with each other, teasing, testing their boundaries. Cassandra knew nothing about this intimate activity, but she knew he belonged inside her. And she couldn’t stop thinking about it. His fingers weren’t enough. She wanted
him
. She cried out for him, begged him. She expected it to hurt—he was so big and she was so tiny—and it did. But only for a few moments. Then the promise of what was to come, what he had already brought her to with just his hand and mouth, eliminated the pain.

She rose against him. He shoved farther inside her. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, even deeper. She fell into the rhythm with him, pushing and pulling, rocking her hips, squeezing around him. He groaned. She moaned. They moved faster and harder. He thrust deep inside her and she begged him to do it again. And he did. Again and again. Her whole body wracked with pleasure. The next time he did it, it knocked the breath out of her. She soared into another place, a place of thorough bliss. Her back arched off the ground. Her toes curled. She screamed. She tightened against him. He made several quick, short thrusts and convulsed inside her with a long groan.

They fell back, panting, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. She shuddered several times and so did he. As soon as he rolled off her, she missed him. She wanted to be pressed against him again. She wanted him to be inside her again. And soon enough, he was.

***

As she and Niko began their life together, Cassandra had to adjust to having a man with her again, as well as adjust to the fact that he wasn’t her father or brother but her lover. He took care of more than her basic needs for survival and companionship. They lived as husband and wife, moving around as she always had, and she imagined this was what it was like for Mother and Father before she and Jordan were born. She better understood now why they looked at each other as they did, why Father had changed when Mother died. She didn’t even want to think about when that time would come for her, which would be inevitable—she would outlive Niko. She focused instead on the present, on the love she thought she would never be able to have.

Niko still had days of fatigue, remnants of the wolf attack, though not as often as before. The army had dismissed him, though, not needing a weak soldier. He’d told her how difficult it had been to accept at the time. At least, until she returned to his life and filled the void.

Their hardest struggle at first, however, came with the summer heat. Cassandra had never felt so miserable, didn’t remember it bothering her so much. She felt sick and unable to eat much of the time. She’d taught Niko about edible plants and fruits and always double-checked his gatherings, just to be safe. Thinking the animals in that part of the land were contaminated, they moved on. With the end of summer, however, the sickness had passed and they understood. Her belly swelled with baby. Six months later, she gave birth in a cave by the sea.

“You are so pretty, Andronika, just as beautiful as your mother,” Niko cooed at the baby, sliding his finger over her cheek. He looked up at Cassandra. “In my old life, they often left baby girls at the doors of rich men to be raised as slaves.”

“They didn’t want daughters?”

“They can’t work like sons can. Many families can’t afford to feed them when they would receive nothing in return.”

Cassandra frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Daughters are just as precious as sons!”

Niko smiled down at Andronika. “Even more precious, right, my angel?”

Cassandra’s frown turned into a smile. She’d yet to convince Niko of one God, Satan, angels and demons, but perhaps there was still hope.

She was glad Niko loved their daughter so much because she never did bring him a son. She had been surprised enough to even be able to have Andronika at her age.

Time passed. Andronika grew. Niko began showing signs of age—a few gray hairs, lines around his eyes. Cassandra didn’t.

Shortly after Andronika’s ninth birthday, they stumbled onto a battlefield, the second one in two days. The fight had been over and all live soldiers already rescued, but the dead had not yet been retrieved. And there were many. The fighting had become more intense, evidenced by the number of fields of bodies they kept coming upon. And also by the quality of the soldiers.

“This one is too young to be out here,” Niko said, indicating a boy who couldn’t be more than twelve. He pointed to another body. “That one too old. The army’s in bad shape. The Romans are decimating us. We need better men.”

Cassandra swallowed down the lump in her throat. She understood his meaning. “Niko—”

“They need me, Cassandra. I owe it to our country. To our people.”

She inhaled a deep breath. What could she say?
So do we
? Although it was true, it was selfish. He was a warrior. Raised and trained to be a soldier. Even with the occasional fatigue, he was still stronger than these boys and elderly men. Boys whose mothers would never see them again. Men whose last days had been spent in the misery of war. She gave a sharp nod, turned and returned to Andronika.

But when the time came for Niko to leave, she could no longer hold the tears back.

“I’ll miss you, too, both of you,” Niko said, hugging them both.

“When will you come back, Father?”

“As soon as I can. Not long, my angel.”

Cassandra walked with him, out of Andronika’s hearing range. “You
must
come back, Niko. I need you. Andronika needs you. You do what you need to do and then come back to us.”

He pulled her into his arms. She pressed her tear-streaked face against his chest.

“Of course. Just don’t leave until I do, or I’ll never find you.”

“We’ll be right here.”

“And I’ll be back.”

He kissed her, long and heavy, and she soaked in the feeling, remembering it, hoping it wasn’t the last time.

Chapter 10

Jordan spent his years proving himself to the Ancients, doing their fighting and bidding. He learned their ways and their purpose: harvesting human souls for Satan. As Jordan gained the Ancients’ approval, they rewarded him with more power. But it still wasn’t enough. He wanted what all the other Daemoni had—the strength, endurance, speed and ruthlessness of the Weres; the magick of the mages; and, most of all, the invincibility and immortality of the vampyres. Father’s blood was not enough. Father had, after all, died. And Jordan did not want to die. He deserved more.

He and Eris began work on a potion to give him all the best qualities of the others. This was why he needed her—only she could provide the level of magick necessary and she believed in their goal. She was nearly as obsessed as he with his rise to the top, believing he’d take her and their son with him. Of course, he would take Deimos, knowing his son had immense potential to follow in his lead. Eris, on the other hand … he hadn’t yet decided. She’d been quite useful so far, but would she be once they achieved their goal? He wasn’t sure he could trust her then.

He had also become less attracted to her as the years passed. The power she put into the potions drained her and her true age began to show. Her body lost its luscious curves, creases lined her face and her once silky, raven hair was streaked with coarse, gray strands. At the same time, her potions appeared to have stopped him from aging at all. His speed increased, his power grew, his senses became nearly equal to those of the vampyre, and his own appeal and the effect he had on women improved even more. Why should he settle for the old witch Eris when he could have anyone?

For now, he still needed her. Although he had gained many of the others’ qualities, he still lacked invincibility and immortality. They continuously tested his skin and it still bled under the blade. Unlike the vampyres, whose skin, he’d noticed, was impossible to penetrate.

“Zardok wants to see you,” Eris said as soon as he returned home after several weeks at battle.

“Perfect timing,” he muttered. All he wanted to do was clean himself and sleep, but not even he could ignore the summon of Zardok, an Ancient. The magickal pull was very real and physical, like a hook in his gut, reeling him to the Ancients. The longer he waited, the stronger and more painful the pull.

“It is, actually,” Eris said, bringing him a bowl of stew. “I believe I’ve figured out the potion and we just need one more ingredient. Just one and you will have immortality.”

“And then you can take over the Daemoni army,” Deimos said, appearing in the doorway with a satchel overflowing with herbs. “Just what you’ve always wanted.”

Jordan eyed his son, surprised that he seemed to have grown again just in the short time he’d been gone. Only a few more years and a few more inches and Deimos would be a man. His son sat on the floor next to him and Eris handed him a bowl.

“So what is this one ingredient and what does Zardok have to do with it?” Jordan asked before taking a bite.

“We need his blood,” Eris said matter-of-factly.

Jordan spewed stew out of his mouth. Deimos laughed. Jordan ignored him.

“Are you crazy, woman?” he demanded. “He’s an Ancient. The most powerful vampyre.”

“The
original
vampyre,” Eris added. “That’s why we need it. We can finish the potion and then you’ll be nearly as powerful as the Ancients.”

Jordan stared at her for several long moments, not knowing whether to shake some sense into her or admire her for such tenacity. He finally just shook his head.