Soulfire (13 page)

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured. “The pain will be gone soon, love. Hang on.”

We were flying at a dizzying speed, despite my injury. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“For what?”

“For not killing my brother.”

“It would’ve caused you more pain.”

“I’m not your wife though. Not yet.”

“Yes, you are.”

“We haven’t had a wedding.”

He gazed down at me as he flew, his wings knowing where to take me. “Soulfire binds us beyond any ceremony. You gave yourself to me, and I gave myself to you. This is all that is needed for a heartbonding. If a ceremony will make you happy, it’s the first thing we’ll do when you’re better.”

He was sure I would heal, giving me courage, for the throbbing pain was becoming more unbearable by the second.

“We humans like our traditions.” I whispered the words, my voice sounding distant.

He smiled, pressing his lips to my temple again. “My human will have whatever her heart desires.”

We landed hard. He was calling my name when I slipped into unconsciousness.

* * * *

I awoke to a chilling sensation numbing my right shoulder. “Ow!”

Shakara Icewing hovered over me, her green eyes wide and dilated. “Oh, sorry! I know it stings, but it won’t last long.”

Someone squeezed my hand. I turned my head to find Lucius peering down. I was in his bedroom. Our bedroom.

He gave me a reassuring smile, though the lines around his mouth and eyes were tight. He nodded at Shakara. “I think one more time.”

“Yes. Once more.”

She inhaled a deep breath. Icy blue flames streamed from her mouth onto my bare shoulder. I flinched away at the fierce burn of cold. Lucius held me still with a comforting but firm grip on my other shoulder. I gasped. A prickly sensation tingled from my wound, spreading chilly adrenaline through my veins.

“What—how—”

Shakara ended the stream of blue flame, smiling sweetly. “I think that’ll do it.”

“What did you do?”

Lucius brushed the back of his knuckles along my cheek. “It’s coldfire.”

“Coldfire? I’ve never heard of it. I don’t understand.”

Shakara wrapped a gauzy bandage over my wound and shoulder, taping it with medical adhesive. “We don’t share all of our gifts with humans. It can be used against us.”

“Like a Volt gun,” I said, glancing at Lucius. The fire had obeyed Lucius, and I wondered if this was a power of the Nightwing clan only. We had lots to discuss later.

Lucius nodded. “Shakara is one of the Icewing clan. They have a special gift in using coldfire.”

“It heals?” It must, because my wound tightened as if stitched by hand. The sting long-gone.

“Yes,” said Shakara. “We are healers, but only of flesh wounds. We can’t heal internal wounds or injuries of the mind. Also”—she paused, lowering dark lashes over her eyes—“it will leave a mark.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, and tried not to imagine the ugly, blistering scar I would carry over most of my shoulder. “Scars mean nothing.” I turned my head back to Lucius. “A small price to pay.”

I lifted my hand to his face, tracing the line of his granite jaw. He closed his eyes, turned into my palm, and pressed a tender kiss to the center of my hand. Shakara excused herself and left the room.

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice grew rough with tortured pain.

“What? Next time I should just step aside and watch you die? I don’t think so. I’d do it again.” The swirl of emotion deepening his gaze flew straight to my heart. “You’re my mate, remember? There is no life without you.”

Lucius stretched himself out alongside my body, draping one of his legs across mine in a possessive, protective move. Leaning on one elbow, he cupped my cheek. He brushed his lips over mine in a slow, sensuous caress, making sure he had my attention. He did.

“Then I will spend our long, happy, prosperous, fertile life together ensuring you never have to.”

“Fertile?”

“Mmm-hmm.” His hand wandered to my hip, squeezing gently.

“You like kids?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You want kids?”

“Lots.” His large hand spread wide, long fingers splaying possessively over the place where I would one day hold his child.

Children! A thrill shot through me. “Do you think they’ll be Morgon?”

“Undoubtedly. Morgon genes are strong. Very dominant.”

“Undoubtedly.” I grinned.

His lips brushed over mine, his tongue lining the seam, then pressed deeper.

Before I fell into a sensual abyss, he pulled away suddenly, a frown creasing his gorgeous face. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

I had to refocus to remember what we were talking about. I smiled. “No. Of course not. But if we’re to have
lots
of kids, we better get started. Or at least practice.”

“Mmm. Practice. Yes.” Luscious lips smiled against mine. “Lots.”

The two priests—Morgon and human—laughed over their pints of beer. The human priest was dressed in a floor-length, black cassock—a portly, friendly-looking fellow. The gray-winged Morgon was garbed in snow-white robes, his long, silver-white hair pulled back in a neat tail. Natural in one another’s company, they looked like they’d performed dozens of inter-species weddings together.

“Not a bad turnout for the first public mixed-marriage ceremony,” Lucius commented at my elbow. “Still, sorry your mother and sister didn’t show though.” A comforting hand rested at the small of my back.

Pain twisted my heart. “I knew they wouldn’t. Father probably burned the invitation and confined them to the house under guard watch, lock and key, knowing today was the day.”

Lucius rubbed his hand soothingly in slow trails up and down my back. As it was, Moira’s comm device had already been disconnected. It cut me to the heart, but I knew he couldn’t lock my sister up forever. She would find a way to reach me.

Lorian stood on Lucius’s left, a silent supporter. I liked my new brother-in-law. Something wild flitted behind those otherworldly eyes. Hell, every Nightwing I knew held a look of danger in his bearing, though Lorian seemed more like an uncaged animal, restless and watching.

The head of the family stepped before me—my new father-in-law, Adicus. He took my hand in his. “You are a lovely addition to our family. And though circumstances may be difficult, you are now one of us.”

He didn’t need to clarify. I was the daughter of his chief, human rival. And yet, he still accepted me. He congratulated Lucius, nodded to Lorian, and moved on.

“Why the frown, love?”

“He was pretty intense when he said I was one of you.”

Lucius threaded his fingers through mine. “Soulfire binds you to me as if we were blood. And also to the rest of the family. Therefore, you are undeniably one of us.”

A warmth spread through me. Though I’d lost my own family, I’d gained another one, a fiercely loyal fight-to-the-death-for-me family. Lucius pressed a kiss to my scarred shoulder as he’d been doing constantly since we’d removed the bandage.

I wore a halter-style, white satin dress to bare my mark to the world, a mark that tied me even more to my Morgon clan. Shakara hadn’t told me what kind of scar would be left from coldfire. I had learned later the pattern differs for everyone.

Beginning from the point of entry of the voltage blast, a pinwheel pattern spiraled outward in what appeared to be iridescent scales. My skin felt as smooth as the rest of me. I liked the way the design shimmered under the lights, like a pale kaleidoscope of color, branding me as a Morgon’s mate. Shakara had explained to me the scale-like appearance was the same for every coldfire healing, remnants of their dragon, but the color and pattern always differed. Like a snowflake. The Morgons, who greeted me, smiled or nodded their approval upon seeing the mark, knowing precisely how I’d gotten it.

Ella walked up at that second, her eyes flicking to my scar.

“Jess, I have to go, but congratulations again on your, uh, on your—”

I laughed at her struggle to know what to call our union. It seemed quite a few still didn’t know the correct way to treat a mixed marriage or heartbonding.

“Thank you.” I put her out of her misery and hugged her. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I wish I could stay longer but mom thinks I’m at the library studying for finals.” She rolled her eyes.

I gave her a sympathetic smile. Her mother had forbid her to associate with me again since I’d “switched sides.” Ella might be timid, but she was loyal with more strength than her parents would ever know. She moved to stand in front of Lucius, offering her small hand in congratulations. I noticed it trembled, her wide eyes raised high.

“Congratulations. I wish you both a long and happy life together.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sure you understand how special Jessen is, but I want you to know she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I must warn you, if you ever hurt her, I will do my best to make your life a living hell.”

Yes, she was much braver than her parents would ever know. I doubt Lucius had been threatened by so diminutive a person before.

With no hint of mockery, he took her small hand in both of his. “I am glad to know my mate has such a dear friend as you. And I vow I will never hurt her. It would be the same as cutting out my own heart.”

She beamed a bright smile. “Good.” She gave me a quick kiss and hurried out.

“This is quite a party.” Sorcha sauntered up, stopping next to Lucius. Lorian was a step behind, leaning against a bar. “I didn’t know you Morgons owned street-level reception halls.”

Lucius smiled. “We thought it wise to expand our business into the human market.”

“Smart man. Our family’s marketing firm would be happy to assist you if you ever need.” Leave it to Sorcha to make business sound like pleasure. “After all, you’re now married to my dearest friend.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, “There are some seriously hot men here.”

I gave her a look as she tilted her shoulders back provocatively. Lorian’s eyes drifted down Sorcha’s body. Catching his gaze, she angled her hips and torso in such a way that screamed sex. Lorian scowled deeper, knocked back his drink, and stormed off.

“What’s wrong with your big, bad brother?”

Lucius sipped his beer with a devious grin. “He’s not too fond of…aggressive women.”

Sorcha’s mouth tilted wickedly. “Oh, really.” She set her beer on the bar and bee-lined in Lorian’s wake. Swinging her curvy hips in a skin-tight red dress, her wild, dark-cherry tresses swishing in tandem. She was a seductive flame burning her way across the room. A silver-winged Morgon spilled his beer watching her pass.

I blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t have told her that.”

“Why not?”

“There’s nothing Sorcha loves more than a good challenge.” I amended my statement. “Other than great sex.”

Lucius shook his head. “Poor, Lorian.”

Sorcha sauntered up to flirt with Paxon Nightwing, leaning against a column in a seductive pose. Pax happened to be standing right next to Lorian who now had a perfect view of Sorcha’s back. The poor man nursed another beer, obviously fighting the urge to stare at her ass and failing miserably. His gaze would scan the room for two seconds before inevitably dropping to the delectable target in perfect view.

Sorcha possessed the kind of body that gave men one idea. Even her husky voice and the way she lilted her words made you think of dark rooms and naughty things. No man was impervious to her sensuality. Except for Lucius, who’d been staring at me the entire evening.

I leaned toward him. “Would you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that. Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

He leaned close, a wing caressing one shoulder, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he spoke. “I’d rather be undressing you with my hands, and licking you from top to bottom.” He nipped my ear. “Especially bottom.”

I shivered, a little moan escaping.

“I’d like to make you do a lot of licking, too.”

“Stop it,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks flame hot.

A glint of mischief and a smug smile was his only response.

* * * *

I stood on the balcony, gazing up at the full moon, remembering the night not so long ago when I’d snuck out by moonlight in search of excitement. Little did I know, I would find more than I bargained for. The object of my thoughts wrapped around me, strong arms banding my waist, wings arching to shade me, like the painting that captured my heart. He pulled me back to lean against his chest. His lips grazed and caressed the spiral mark at my shoulder.

“I was wrong,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

“About what?” I looked at him over my shoulder.

“You are a goddess.”

I gave him a teasing smile. His face remained serious, pensive as he continued. “Some sort of ancient moon goddess. Your skin.” A bronzed hand moved over my shoulder and down my arm, his eyes following the path. “It glows like you swallowed it whole.”

I turned in his arms, lacing my fingers in his hair. His eyes shimmered darkly in the shadows, but I knew the heat they held. His hands roved over my hips, sliding over my satin gown, up my waist to cup my breasts, kneading softly. I hitched in a breath.

“I want you.” Gruff words, his lips found my throat, licking at my pulse. “Right here. In your wedding dress. Under the moonlight.”

His fingers teased and circled my breast through the satin. My body responded, arching into his touch.

“Why don’t you take me then.” A husky challenge.

That was it. His hands were under my hem, hiking it to my waist. Fingers stroked between my legs, finding me more than ready. With a growl, he ripped off my panties and lifted me to the balcony ledge. With frightening speed, he unbuckled and opened his pants, then thrust inside me. The joining sucked the breath out of my chest. He was so thick and hard, I gasped at the sensation. Holding me flush against his body, I let my neck arch, my hair fly in the night wind. He marked me with possessive intent—hard, raw, and deep. Hanging over a precipice that would mean my death if I fell, I’d never felt more free
and
more bound. My soul soared while my heart remained captive by this man—my husband, my mate.