Guardian of the Abyss (17 page)

He turned and looked at her, his black eyes stark against the gold of his skin. He looked like a mythical genie. As he stepped towards her, his wings sprang from his back, and she felt something inside her melt, even as it tightened. He was truly glorious, with his bald head and his bottomless eyes. Neither angel nor demon, he was something that transcended all such ideas and concepts. A man, certainly, but no ordinary man.

He stopped in front of her, putting his hands on the door beside her head. Leaning down, he kissed her gently, softly. Such tenderness from such a huge, powerful man made her stomach flutter. He pulled away just enough that his breath whispered across her lips as he said her name.

His thigh pressed against her leg, and with his lips unmoving and his gaze holding hers enthralled, he spoke directly to her mind. "Will you marry me?"

Her heart sank. He shouldn't marry her, she knew that intellectually. He was probably suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something like that... she wasn't sure exactly what classification there was for falling for a fellow prisoner only because you didn't have any other choices.

"You should meet other women first. You need to have choices--"

His eyes narrowed and his face gave up legendary mythic status to slide into sheer barbarism. "So you can meet other men?"

She blinked at him for a moment in consternation. He could even imagine she would want to meet other men? "No, of course not."

"Then why? I don't want to meet other women any more than you want to meet other men." He was angry, she could feel it in him, boiling and churning. He gripped her on the upper arms, his grip firm but not painful. "I've already seen what would happen to your heart if I went to meet other women. Do you believe me to be that cruel? Or perhaps you think me too stupid to know my own heart?" he added before she could reply to the first question.

She gripped his forearms. "You should have a choice, not just get stuck--"

"I already made my choice." There was barbarous fury in his mind, burning and raging out of control. "Now you make yours."

"I... yes. Of course I will," she managed, frightened by the fury burning in the depths of his eyes.

He crushed her against him in an embrace just this side of pain as she felt relief blaze through him with the same intensity as his anger. His wings snapped into his back with an audible 'pop'. His lips took hers over, dominating them and turning her to a melting mess.

He pressed her against his body and she felt his erection straining against the jeans that barely contained it. She made a mental note that he couldn't wear low-on-the-hips jeans. Ever. All was forgotten as he began to tug her shirt up, however.

She was surprised to note that his hands were shaking and clumsy. Hands so steady and sure that they could paint stunningly accurate renditions of people were rendered uncertain as he attempted to remove the shirt.

Moments passed as he managed the shirt and tried to understand the button on the side of the early-maternity pants she was wearing. She tried to push his hands away, but he gave a growl of frustration and ripped the button off, pushing at the pants with unquestionable urgency. Finally, he ripped them, shredding them with ease before he picked her up, his lips striking hers with ferocious need.

They were on the floor a moment later, the carpet against her back and the golden man she loved above her. He fought with the jeans he wore until once more, he simply settled with the expedience of ripping them off.

She was unprepared when he gentled once they were naked, his suede skin so soft and warm against hers. She realized he had never been that warm when they were under the water.

"I'm at full power now." It whispered through her mind. "I'll feel warmer, as you do. Though you are still far from full power. I asked Thanatos to heal you, but he said it would be too risky with the baby..."

He trailed kisses down the side of her neck until he reached her breasts, where he cupped her with his hands. They were steady now, gentle and powerful all at the same time. There was no more clumsiness, no more awkward fumbling. He was certain as he trailed a warm palm down her belly towards her legs.

She didn't want to wait. She wanted to feel him in her, over her, around her.

"I'm barely holding on, Sarah. I want to do this right. Don't tempt me."

So she struggled to be patient as he teased her. His hands were incredible, teasing her as he nipped his way back up to her lips. He stopped to look at her belly, his hand caressing it. "My son," he whispered, and kissed the rounded evidence of her pregnancy. Her body had filled out again, fecund and welcoming towards the new life that grew within it.

"Or daughter."

"Daughters are rare for us, and always human. It seems that the woman's body is not welcoming towards our female offspring. Of course, it's likely that the sorcerers made it that way. The chance that you'll bear a girl are staggeringly remote. I would love her, though." He smiled up at her, a sad smile that held the story of an ancient pain. "Girl children are our rarest treasure, because they can be raised to know us and are more likely to risk loving us."  He kissed her belly again, "But our child will be part of a new world as little Darius is. Children born of love..."

He wrapped his arms around her, before running his hand down her side, lying beside her, his thick, powerful leg thrust between hers. She found herself so filled with desire for him that she couldn't stop herself from rubbing against him, the supple skin of his leg teasing at her with the hint of greater pleasures.

"Abaddon," she groaned.

He smiled, a smug smile. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Now."

"Now... what?" he demanded.

"What is it with that? You know already!"

"It's nice to hear it, Sarah. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in my obsessive longing to be inside you. That the fact that I can barely control myself to give you proper touching and lovemaking isn't all my own."

"It isn't only you." She grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss, loving that she didn't need to break it to tell him, "I want you inside me so badly that I feel like I'll fly apart if you don't come inside me and keep me together."

His fingers slid between her legs, and she felt him teasing and touching her, pushing her towards orgasm with just his immensely talented fingers.  It felt divine, but she ached to have all of him inside her. His motions pushed her to the edge...

And she was over, falling into the abyss as her body shook and convulsed with the power of an orgasm that summoned his name and ripped it from her lips with a cry that hovered just outside of anguish.

His roaming hands gave her time to come down from the edge, but then her lust was rising again, roaring to life from the momentary quiescence offered by the orgasm. This time, when she cried his name, it was a plea.

Clearly he understood, because this time, he thrust into her, his powerful body between her legs and above her and inside her. Sarah wrapped herself around him and wept with the sweet wonder of having him within every part of her being. When he shouted her name, they dropped into the abyssal magic of their love together when Sarah followed him over the crest.

Chapter 22

James Halloran sat at the big desk that Sarah Holt had never bothered to sit at. He put his feet up, looking out over the city. She'd never known what she had. He'd been stuck as her sycophant. Granted, it had its perks. He had enjoyed diving everywhere in the world, taking grand vacations, driving fancy cars...

It wasn't enough, though. He had wanted more. He wanted it all, and in a few short months, it would be his. The city he looked out over would speak his name with awe as the Holt brand went global as he took the company public. He got up and walked over to the window to look down on the city.

Sarah had always said that when the company went public, it would no longer be about quality and about integrity, but would become about shareholders and money. It should always have been about shareholders and money, though. There was no other reason to have a business. Money wasn't the means, it was the goal, because beyond money, lay power; the ultimate goal.

James was never meant to be a sycophant. He was king, and it was time that Philadelphia knew its new financial ruler. The world beyond this window would bow to him, he would see to it.

"James, James, James." The soft voice behind him made every part of his body lock up. It couldn't be. He had killed her, he knew he had. If she'd been alive, she'd have returned by now.

"You've made a terrible mistake, James."

Her disembodied face reflected in the window beside him, her eyes black pits of evil. Terror raced through him. She had returned from her watery grave to haunt him.

He stared at her reflection in the window. "I'm not afraid of you, you're dead."

She stepped closer, and he saw the outline of massive wings behind her. Terror struck him as he realized that they were hers. Dead, empty eyes and huge wings... she had come to drag him down to hell with her.

"Oh no, James. I haven't come to take you to hell. I've come to make your life a living hell. You killed me, and you stole my company. Now you have to pay. You have to pay for the rest of your life."

Terror struck then, so hard and deep and strong that he couldn't control it. He started to bolt towards the door and realized that he couldn't move. He was paralyzed entirely.

"That's right, James. I can control your body. I can give you nightmares. I can, and I will, force you to my will." She stepped closer, and he saw the black depths of her eyes glitter with malice.

"Please," he begged.

"If I were alive, James, and you had asked for more investment in the company, I would have immediately granted it. I would have increased your salary, I would have opened doors for you to start your own company. I would have helped you in any way you had chosen to go. But this is my company, James. And I don't want it to go public."

A movement on the other side of him made James look to his right, where another face emerged from the shadows of the office. This time, cold dread made sweat trickle down into his eyes, burning and stinging even as he couldn't look away.

"This is Andrew. He's going to give you some instructions. Because you killed me, his instructions are going to be much harsher than they would have been."

The man stepped forward, and he saw the deadly fangs glitter in the light from the city below. "Let's play, James." For the next few minutes, the vampire laid out exactly what James was to do. He would continue the philanthropic pursuits that the company had engaged in while under Sarah's management. He would become paralyzed every time that he tried to set the company up to go public. He would put money every month into a fund in the Caymans for Sarah. He would remember why he had to do these things, but every time that he tried to tell anyone why outside of it being the best interests of the company and the right thing to do... he would become violently ill. He would never reveal the truth through word, deed, or omission.

He would protect the company until the day he died. It would be his penance for his greed and for murdering a friend.

Fury burned in him as the vampire and Sarah vanished as if they'd never been there. Pulling his desk drawer open--his desk, damn it--he tried to sign the papers to go public. He found himself locked rigidly into place. When he finally conceded defeat and decided that he would put the papers away, he was suddenly able to move again.

For five long hours, he sat in the office, until it dawned on him. Sarah wasn't dead. The bitch had tricked him. If she was dead, she didn't need money. She thought she would take his? Hell no. He was going to keep her from getting the money by destroying the company.

Opening the bottom drawer of the desk, he pulled out a gun. Pointing it at his head, he tried to pull the trigger. His finger wouldn't move.

Then, like a specter, the face of the vampire rose in his mind's eye. "You will protect the company."

If James died, the company would be adrift and fall apart. Without realizing he had done so, he put the gun away. It finally sank into him then. He was trapped. Well and truly trapped. His only hope was to train someone else to run the company, and even then he wasn't sure if he could get out of the vampire's grip.

"Fuck you!" he screamed at the woman who had once been his friend. The woman he'd tried to kill and obviously failed to. But even as his hate burned bright, his need to make the company successful as a private, philanthropic organization that put the costumers first consumed him like an inferno.

*  *  *  *

Sarah watched the News as it was announced that the powerful Holt company would not be going public. According to the new owner, James Halloran, he wanted nothing more than to keep the company private, and to see its reputation as an altruistic company that sought to serve the community grow and thrive.

She rubbed her belly as he vanished from the screen. "It seems to be working," she said out loud in English. Between goblin magic to paralyze him and vampire glamoring, James was stuck with the pretense that he was just doing what was best for the company... not obeying an unbreakable compulsion.