Moonless (27 page)

75

Rightful

Overgrown ginger hair waved about his face, chin turned questioningly up, shoulders, once proud, lifting again. He stepped closer, eyes swallowing her into a starry night sky.

She breathed in honeyed oak, lost in the expanse of his consuming universe. His fingers cupped her cheek, and the lights flared brighter, colors deepening. Her blood pumped. The soft crackle of flames hummed a song, carrying his heartbeat to her ears, a wild ballad that begged her to fall into his arms where life thrived, where she belonged. Her knees quaked, her entire body shaking.

The door smacked shut and she glanced about the now-abandoned room.

He pulled her to him, their bodies fusing into a single entity. Their hearts thundered in unison, every cell burning with awareness. She’d been living in the night. The sun had risen at last, illuminating a world she’d forced herself to believe no longer existed, and its glory threatened to consume her entirely.

His nose pressed into her neck and a shudder shook them both. She cradled his head, looping her fingers in his hair. Tremors wracked his frame as his warm tears dripped onto her shoulder. He crumbled to his knees, clinging to her around the waist. She trailed a hand across his scar and turned his face up toward hers.

He swallowed, but did nothing to remove the streams coursing from his perfect oceanic eyes. “Alexia.” He reached for her face. “Oh, Alexia!”

She dropped into his grasp. The whisper of his skin across hers shot bolts of lightning to her core. She gasped and tasted urgency. His lips grazed her temple, skimmed her cheek, and brushed the tip of her nose. Each touch sent a quiver of wishful longing down her spine. His breath across her mouth proved too much. She lurched into him, kissing him with every ounce of passion her heart contained. He met her fervor, hands pulling through her hair, drawing her nearer, stealing her away to that haunted silence that had become his heart.

The place between opened up. She caught glimpses of him on a lonely journey, fleeing the Soulless, searching desperately, unrelenting and determined to pick up her trail.

She pushed him away. “You thought I was—”

“I did not know what to believe.” He caught her hands, squeezing them, eyes piercing hers. “I searched everywhere, knowing as long as my heart testified yours still beat, it had to be true. Even if you did not want me, even if,” he sucked in a breath, “even if you could never forgive me, I had to find you. All this time, and here you were in my own home!”

She choked, her voice barely audible. “Arik—”

His eyes closed with a lack of patience. “Stop, please. My name is not
Arik
.”

“No?”

“It is Kiren.”

“Kie-ren?” she tried.

He beamed. She could not help her own smile beneath the luster of his aquatic dawn, the first true sunrise she had seen in ages, the rise of hope.

“Kiren,” she tried again, this time coming easier. He glowed. She shook her head, trying to process what else he’d confessed. “This is
your
home?”

He smiled apologetically and stroked her cheek. “One of them.”

“I do not understand.”

He nodded, his brow coming to rest against hers. “My true home is here.” His fingers pressed lightly just above her sternum. She flushed. “And here.” His lips reached for hers. She let him have them, bewildered by the need that pulsed through her every vein. The taint of saltwater stained his kiss, reminding her of the bitterness lodged deep inside. She wasn’t supposed to let him back in, not ever. He stole the truth. He took away everything they’d once had, and then threatened to do it again.

She pulled free, covering her mouth. Tears pooled. Would he take what he needed from her—all the affection and assurances, and then wipe her mind clean once more?

“Never.” He seized her wrist and removed her hand, leaning in again, fixed on her lips.

“What about my memories?”

He halted.

“No one ever took them from me.” She tilted her head. “Why?”

He wrapped a finger in one of her curls, watching the spiral as it striped his skin. His brow wrinkled. “I did not want you to forget.” His eyes met hers, wide and child-like. “I never
wanted
you to forget.”

She exhaled a shaky breath, broken by his sincerity. “But you took them before.”

He nodded. “When your father asked it of me.”

It all clicked. Father didn’t want her to end up like one of them. Of course he would ask that she forget everything to do with the Passionate, especially the man she wasn’t sure her heart could survive without.

She swallowed. “He told me about the Soulless priest. Was that the only memory you took?”

His head bowed. “No.”

“You will restore what was taken?”

He bit the inner sides of his lips and nodded.

She managed a weak smile. “Then I shall remember you, even after we are parted?”

His hands laced into her curls. “My prayer is that I never leave your side again.”

“Never?”

“Never.” His head shook.

“I may not mind my privacy on rare occasion.”

He laughed, eyeing her mouth. “Do you know I have been with you your entire life?”

“Except when you left me at Sarah’s,
with John,
so you could fight a war.”

He groaned. “There will always be war. I should not have left you.” His brows lowered. “When that unscrupulous banker attacked you . . .” He shuddered, teeth clenching. “I could have killed him.”

She blinked a few tears free.

He brushed the hair away from her face and drew her near, swallowing her whole in his star-littered sea. “I would have given
anything
to hold you!”

A sob caught in her throat. “But you did not.”

“Because you forbade it.”

“I am not forbidding it now.”

He looped both arms around her, drawing her into his chest and hugging her close. Her heart warmed. He placed a kiss on top of her curls. “I have traversed every inch of this blasted continent searching for you. Not even Edward could reach me with his frequent missives—not until this morning.” He lifted her chin. “I must know, were you running from me?”

“Me, running from you?” She scowled. “You left me!” Her tears resurfaced, blurring his troubled face.

His eyes closed. He brushed her cheek and laid his lips to hers. They weren’t desperate like before. They felt instead, penitent. She welcomed them wholly.

“I will not leave you again. Though it may be the most selfish thing I have ever done, I love you, Alexia Dumont.”

She blinked up into his eyes, heart thundering her response. “I love you,” she couldn’t help the smile, “Kiren.”

He grinned with her.

She gasped. “But what about the dream, how you have seen me die, how you fear my death will bring about yours?”

“It is a price I will gladly pay.”

“You would sacrifice your life for love?”

He brushed her knuckles against his cheek, his eyes drowning her in their azure depths. “With all my heart.” He leaned in. “I will not live without you, Alexia.”

“You should know I have adopted the alias of Christianne.” She smirked. “And I am quite fond of it.”

“Whatever you like.” He laughed and kissed her.

76

Dispel
 

As they stepped through the doorway, Alexia reddened. Three sets of eyes turned quickly away—her dear friends who had politely slipped outside at their display.

Kiren aided her onto his horse, his speckled gray, and mounted behind her, returning his arms to their rightful place.

Lester and Edward battled back and forth about some trivial household detail while Ethel pledged to join the couple at the manor soon. Kiren’s grip tightened about her and he kicked the horse, and off they flew, through the deepening night, and though the air snapped with chill, Alexia felt none of it. The warmth of his touch, the consistent thump of their unified hearts—those were the only things she comprehended. She wanted to ask a hundred things, to know the mysteries behind this estate—how he’d come to be here, why he served Edward—but  she held her tongue and turned, studying his beautiful face for fear it would escape her again.

Two lamps out front warmed the house, tiny lights glittering in the lower windows. Drooping dark branches protected them from the distant world, navy sky almost totally obscured.

The stallion halted. Kiren leapt down and she fell into his grasp. His eyes touched hers curiously, asking what she thought of the house—probably not realizing she’d seen it a hundred times before. It felt more like home every day. Her silent response must have pleased him, for his smile widened.

Nelly welcomed them back as she kicked Miles out the door to attend to the horse. Even her loud mood and bewildered stares couldn’t disturb their calm.

Kiren guided her from the entry to the library, where he sat in the corner of the wide leather couch and pulled her down beside him, mouth persistently engaging hers. The others could be heard scuttling by, but they didn’t disturb the couple.

At last he held her. Alexia took a deep breath, head resting against his chest. When she returned to his face, a crinkle broke his brow. His eyes met hers. He closed them.

“What is it?” she whispered.

His lips pursed together before he voiced in his all too controlled baritone, “How soon must we return you to your father’s house?”

“Never.”

He squeezed her. “But Alexia, if you stay—”

She took both sides of his face. “I am right where I belong. You cannot send me away, and I will not let you go.”

He laughed. “Alexia—”

“I do not think you heard correctly.” She tucked her knees beneath herself. “I have become Christianne, a woman with no impending duties or family, an orphan.”

He smiled sadly. “You are giving them up?”

“It is done.” She glanced the other direction to keep him from seeing the forming tears. “Father cannot tolerate what I am. He will never understand.”

“That is not true.” He caught her chin.

“But it is.” One tear broke free and skimmed down her cheek. “Why else would he be so anxious to marry me off—shuffle me into society? Why else would he hate you?”

Kiren stilled. His attention turned to the floor.

“He says tragedy follows you.” She swallowed. “He believes all our kind are doomed to sorrow, and that we bring it upon those with whom we associate.”

His eyes leapt to hers. “You talked with him about me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Did he learn about our—”

She nodded.

He looked away, groaning. When he resumed speaking it was hardly more than a whisper. “Do you want to know why he hates me?”

She nodded, eagerly.

“I asked her not to leave us for Charles. Dana did not listen.” He shook his head. “When she died, she begged me to watch over you. I honored her wishes, but it was best that you be raised by your father, not us. Not me.” He paused, individually examining each of her fingers. “Ironic then that I should love you and ask you to leave behind your home—even knowing the result.”

She touched his cheek. “But I am alive.”

“For now.” A sad smile tugged at his cheeks. “You must understand, I revealed the truth about your birth to Charles’s wife. I destroyed his marriage.”

She placed a hand on his chest. “No, he destroyed his own marriage.”

Guilt remained crinkled at the corners of his eyes. She hated that she couldn’t smooth it away with her reassurances, but perhaps one day she would persuade him.

He patted a hand over hers. “Tell me, why did you run away?”

She blinked and glared at the wall.“I was deceived.”

“By John?”

She nodded.

His mouth snapped shut. He traced her cheek absently with a finger. “You have means to defend yourself against him, my love. We all do. Your abilities have begun to surface. Have you discovered their extent?”

“Their extent?”

He climbed up and caught the end of a potted vine, the only plant in the room. “You glimpsed mine, but allow me to demonstrate more fully. Do not be afraid.”

She giggled. How could playing with a creeper possibly be terrifying?

The stem burst outward. It split into multiple directions and spilled over the shelves and floor, writhing forward, gripping the walls and hardwood like a hungry monster, leaves bursting to platter-sized spades. She leapt back, pressing into the sofa.

He let go, and it stopped inches from the couch. Half the room had been transformed into a jungle.

“Touch it,” he said.

She leaned forward tentatively and reached for a broad leaf. It was real.

“Growth. I can enhance the generation of organisms and shape them.”

She eyed the creeper again as he stepped carefully over the lacey green veins. “It costs, but that is how I heal people, by quickening their natural processes and reshaping them to become whole.” He sank into the cushion next to her, leaning his head on the frame. “When we first start, our abilities stem from suppressed emotion. Take Lester, for example. He wanted to run away. He ran, faster than any being has ever run.”

She blinked. “Bellezza said he was one of us, but there are others?”

“All of those in this house, Alexia.”

“Christianne.”

“You may call yourself what you wish,” he brushed her cheek with a thumb, “but you will always be
Alexia
to me.”

She grinned. “So Ethel, Nelly, Miles, and Edward are Passionate?”

“Every last one.”

“What can they do?”

A cautious frown crept over his face. “You will learn.”

“M-Miles, he talks with animals—”

“Among other things.”

That puzzled her. “And Nelly, it has to be something with food.”

He chuckled. “They are unique. Many Passionate share abilities, especially in a bloodline, but these are some of the rarest talents you will encounter. I do not advise prying, however. What one can do is rather personal, unless volunteered. Which reminds me, you should not tell anyone about your dreams.”

“Why not?”

“Trust me.”

She nodded. “And you work for Edward?”

He froze, brows scrunching. “I think you are a bit mixed up.”

“Mixed up?”

He looked away. “Edward works for me.” He ran one hand through his hair. “And Ethel, and Nelly, Lester and Miles.”

“You?” She couldn’t quite quantify that one. He was the master of the house? Him all this time?

He took a deep breath. “I am what you might consider a leader.”

“A leader?” The idea seemed too incredible. “Like a magistrate or sovereign?”

“Like a friend,” he corrected. “A friend who cares very deeply about what becomes of them.” He leaned and tickled the vine he’d spontaneously sprouted. “All of them.”

“Including . . .”
my mother
. She gaped. “How old are you? You said you have been watching over me my whole life, that you asked Dana not to leave.”

His hand hovered over the plant. “I am older than I ought to be, and younger at the same time.” His eyes landed on her face. “I have not felt so
young
at anything in a long time.”

“How old?” she repeated. “How many years?”

His mouth twitched at one end. “Enough.”

“Twenty-five? Thirty?”

He smiled and looked away.

“You do not look a day beyond twenty.”

“Another of my gifts.” His brows hung low.

“Forty? Fifty?”

“That is a discussion for another time.”

She shook it off. “What of the others, ones like me? Will I grow old and wither while you remain in this
façade
of youth?”

“No.” His head bowed, eyes closing.

She remembered she wouldn’t live that long. A new subject: “Edward asked Father for my hand. Why would he do that?”

His shoulders tensed. “He did so on my behalf.”

“You mean to say, you intended me to be with him?”

Kiren laughed heartily. “Hardly. The agreement included a foreign elopement and the understanding you would live across the seas, where your father and aunt could not possibly come to visit.” His eyes skimmed over her. “Where I should not often be tempted to haunt you.”

She swallowed. “But
with
Edward?”

His head shook. “That is merely the story your family would believe. You would have remained celibate, unless you chose otherwise.” He lifted a hopeful glance. “But you were to be given a home, a living, all your heart desired.”

She needn’t mention that included him. She closed her eyes and sought a topic less uncomfortable. “Bellezza told us about a weapon, one that will fight both Soulless and Passionate.”

He hissed. She started. His brows hung low with worry. “So it is Bellezza that put you
all
up to this.”

“No, she merely mentioned—”

He laughed sardonically. “Of course. She planted the seed and allowed you to form your own conclusions.” He covered his mouth. “And no doubt it plays into what she has planned now.” He pushed out of the couch and aimed for the door.

She stumbled to her feet. “Kiren, wait!”

He halted. His eyes softened, and he returned to her. “Be things as they may, I will figure it out later.”

“Is she one of the twenty-three originals?”

He blinked, genuinely surprised, and sighed. “John?”

She nodded.

“No, she is not one of them, but they were not originals either.” He slid a hand down her arm. “In the early days most were taken to a new world, and only twenty-three of the purest Passionate remained.” His fingers laced between hers. “Their numbers were further diminished by the birth of the Soulless.”

“And then there were ten.”

“Only ten.” He nodded. “It was inevitable we should eventually mix with humanity, that or cease to exist. Mortal blood has diluted much of our heritage.”

“We? Am I to understand you were one of the ten?”

“No.”

But he did not meet her gaze. Curious. “Or the offspring? Have
you
mixed with humanity?”

His head tilted and arms crossed, eyes scolding.

“The others,” she cleared her throat, “not the twenty-three, but everyone else, where were they taken?”

His head shook. “Another land we cannot access from here.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What land?”

“A different one.” His scowl softened. “I do not know how to explain it. Perhaps in time . . .” Again he frowned.

“My mother, was she
purer
—one of the ten?”

His head shook.

“What about her grandparents, or their grandparents? Are any of them still alive? How far back does my line go?”

“I have searched, but it is as though your mother simply appeared.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Edward will be able to assist us in our hunt.”

“Edward?”

“He has a mind for lists and numbers. Keeps me straight on most of the important facts.” He smiled. She fought back the alarming number of questions now battling for attention as his fingers stroked across her back. “How much of this can you stomach in one sitting?”

She shrugged. “As much as you ask of me.”

He stilled, listening to something distant, something she couldn’t hear. His eyes returned to hers. “It is late.”

“Is it?”

He touched the lines around her eyes. “You are tired.”

“Am I?” She hugged him fiercely. “Do not make me leave you, even to sleep.”

He kissed her on the brow, voice darkening. “I will not.”

***

She dozed on the couch while he played with her hair and woke frequently, frightened he’d gone, but he remained pillowing her. She found it impossible to sleep soundly.

“Kiren?”

“I swear I shall never tire of that.”

She kissed him drowsily. “You need to sleep.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”