will utilize my strengths, or—” Or what? She was far too weak to be of help to anyone. It would be best if she had never come into his life, never unmasked this vulnerability. She hated what had happened to him—to all of the Passionate—because she had been vain enough, foolish enough to embrace these desires. Had he ever been so vulnerable before his enemies? Had the Passionate ever been so vulnerable before the Soulless? She squared herself. “Or I shall banish myself from you.”
He looked away. “We have much ground to cover.”
“Kiren.”
He took both her hands and leaned down so their eyes were level, his burning. “You are to be my wife. Do you understand that?”
Her heart sped. His wife. She would belong to him, and solely him.
“No wishing, no silly thoughts of separation are going to change that—nor do I wish it so. You are the only thing I cannot lose, and the one thing they will target.” He bit his lip. “Already I have failed you.”
She shook her head, reaching for his cheek.
He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across her neck. “It seems I condemn everything I care about.”
“Kiren, stop.” She grabbed his wrist. He met her gaze, his eyes startlingly vulnerable. “I will be your wife.” She smiled with all the joy she had experienced but an hour ago.
Crashing pulled her around. Kiren’s silvery stallion darted between trees, Edward low on its back.
Alexia laid her head against Kiren’s shoulder. “You have not failed me. You saved my life, and I am only sorry I could not be strong when you needed me to be.”
Kiren’s arms wrapped around her, lips tickling her ear.
The horse skidded to a halt, tearing moss, prancing back a step or two and throwing its ivory mane. Edward dropped out of the saddle and handed the reins over. Kiren retrieved her sword, the very blade still stained in her blood, and aided Alexia onto the beast. He nodded a farewell to Edward, and mounted behind Alexia.
Twenty
Success
Amos pulled back the canvas and shivered. Energy pulsed off the metal, stinging his chin like the icy rays of a polar sun. He squinted, eyes watering. Even dimmed as they were by the ages, the power burned.
Hissing voices echoed through the cave, reminding him of those waiting. Nervous chatter.
Carefully, he rewrapped the prize, binding it shut with twine. Its buzz carried through the heavy canvas and rattled into his frame. Even with the stability of his many centuries, the bones of his fingers clicked while pulling at the string.
How many hundred years had they sought this prize? He’d succeeded. He was the only one who could claim victory, even if he had to admit the aid of a Passionate traitor, the child who had directed him to their point of ambush, the girl who strangely did not fear him.
He carefully laid the treasure atop two similar wrappings inside a satchel, decoys. Four other bags sat by, filled and ready with similar counterfeits. They would detain the factions of the Passionate, leading the groups in a wild chase. He hated to let this precious prize out of his control, but it was the only way to ensure its safety.
“Come now!” he called.
Five trusted allies entered the space, blacking out the light of day. He gazed into the decaying face of one then another, recalling the many years he had fought, scrounged and survived alongside each of them.
“You each know your task.”
They nodded.
“Make your deliveries, and then we must deaden your minds so no one will perceive our plan at the sun’s setting.” That magic moment when their minds would unify, when their kind would be integrated in a cumulative hunger.
His lackeys stiffened. The youngest shifted from foot to foot, focused on the ground.
Amos lifted an amber vial. Its contents caught the sun and warmed like the nectar of the gods. “People will come after you. Upon delivery, drink this immediately.”
Joseph stepped forward, skeletal hand
He looked away. “We have much ground to cover.”
“Kiren.”
He took both her hands and leaned down so their eyes were level, his burning. “You are to be my wife. Do you understand that?”
Her heart sped. His wife. She would belong to him, and solely him.
“No wishing, no silly thoughts of separation are going to change that—nor do I wish it so. You are the only thing I cannot lose, and the one thing they will target.” He bit his lip. “Already I have failed you.”
She shook her head, reaching for his cheek.
He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across her neck. “It seems I condemn everything I care about.”
“Kiren, stop.” She grabbed his wrist. He met her gaze, his eyes startlingly vulnerable. “I will be your wife.” She smiled with all the joy she had experienced but an hour ago.
Crashing pulled her around. Kiren’s silvery stallion darted between trees, Edward low on its back.
Alexia laid her head against Kiren’s shoulder. “You have not failed me. You saved my life, and I am only sorry I could not be strong when you needed me to be.”
Kiren’s arms wrapped around her, lips tickling her ear.
The horse skidded to a halt, tearing moss, prancing back a step or two and throwing its ivory mane. Edward dropped out of the saddle and handed the reins over. Kiren retrieved her sword, the very blade still stained in her blood, and aided Alexia onto the beast. He nodded a farewell to Edward, and mounted behind Alexia.
Twenty
Success
Amos pulled back the canvas and shivered. Energy pulsed off the metal, stinging his chin like the icy rays of a polar sun. He squinted, eyes watering. Even dimmed as they were by the ages, the power burned.
Hissing voices echoed through the cave, reminding him of those waiting. Nervous chatter.
Carefully, he rewrapped the prize, binding it shut with twine. Its buzz carried through the heavy canvas and rattled into his frame. Even with the stability of his many centuries, the bones of his fingers clicked while pulling at the string.
How many hundred years had they sought this prize? He’d succeeded. He was the only one who could claim victory, even if he had to admit the aid of a Passionate traitor, the child who had directed him to their point of ambush, the girl who strangely did not fear him.
He carefully laid the treasure atop two similar wrappings inside a satchel, decoys. Four other bags sat by, filled and ready with similar counterfeits. They would detain the factions of the Passionate, leading the groups in a wild chase. He hated to let this precious prize out of his control, but it was the only way to ensure its safety.
“Come now!” he called.
Five trusted allies entered the space, blacking out the light of day. He gazed into the decaying face of one then another, recalling the many years he had fought, scrounged and survived alongside each of them.
“You each know your task.”
They nodded.
“Make your deliveries, and then we must deaden your minds so no one will perceive our plan at the sun’s setting.” That magic moment when their minds would unify, when their kind would be integrated in a cumulative hunger.
His lackeys stiffened. The youngest shifted from foot to foot, focused on the ground.
Amos lifted an amber vial. Its contents caught the sun and warmed like the nectar of the gods. “People will come after you. Upon delivery, drink this immediately.”
Joseph stepped forward, skeletal hand
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