Claimed (10 page)

Eli didn’t want her to have to end people’s lives.

What he didn’t realize was that it felt like she was sacrificing her own instead.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
hit,” Dec said as he took in what lay before him. In the center of the room was a massive wooden table, its unusually tall legs decorated with images from Greek mythology of Charon, the ferryman of the dead. In the center of the table was etched the symbol of the Ferry: the raven, wings spread for flight. Their family motto,
Fatum Nos Vocat
, was carved along the edges of the table. And at the head of the table was a chair. His chair.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing a suit, minus the tie. He couldn’t stand ties. But now he wished h
e’d
gotten over himself and worn one, if only to give him something to tug at when he felt the invisible noose tightening.

Every time he thought about tonight, he felt a completely confusing mix of excitement and guilt. He didn’t know whether he was looking forward to being with Galena—or dreading it. “It’s what she wants,” he told himself. “She chose this.”

But only because her other choices were even more hellish.

“I chose it, too,” he mumbled.

For him, there really was no other choice. Not one he could live with, at least.

The door to the room opened, and Cacy walked in. For once, his little sister was dressed conservatively. Her black hair was loose around her shoulders, and her dress was a simple deep-purple sheath. Her eyes met his. “Eli and Galena are going to come down in a minute. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

He laughed weakly and ran a hand through his hair. “How should I be?”

Cacy gave him a sympathetic look and then came over and hugged him. “You’re doing a good thing, Dec. I know it’s weird, but it’s still good.”

“I hope Galena agrees with you,” he muttered, staring at the table. “Does she know what’s going to happen?”

“Aislin and I explained it to her.” She made a pained face. “She’s pretty nervous.”

Dec turned as the door opened again. “Me t—” His words died in his throat as Galena walked in, accompanied by Eli, who was wearing dark slacks and a white button-down, and Aislin, in a black skirt and emerald-green top.

“Seamus is preparing his materials,” said Aislin, gesturing at the door at the rear of the chamber. Dec remembered the first time h
e’d
met Seamus—h
e’d
been sixteen and nervous as hell. Climbing up on that table and exposing his back had been the scariest thing h
e’d
ever done.

Dec blinked as Galena walked forward. She was wearing a simple black dress with a V-shaped neckline, and it fit her body like it was made for her. It probably
had
been made for her. His gaze traveled from her slippered feet to her face, and he couldn’t help the primal pulse of desire that throbbed inside him. But then their gazes locked, and her green eyes betrayed her fear. He walked forward, drawn by the plea he saw there. “Hey,” he said gently. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she said, eyeing the table. “Is that where I’m supposed to go?”

Dec nodded. “You ready?”

“That’s a really complicated question.”

He took her hand and looked over her shoulder at Eli, who nodded at him, a silent thank-you. “Come on,” Dec said. “I’ll talk you through it.”

Her fingers were cold in his as he guided her to the table. Usually during a Claiming ceremony, this room, which was in one of the basement levels of the Psychopomps tower, was filled with people. For people born into the family, it was a coming-of-age ritual. Dec had attended Cacy’s and had stood by his father’s side. Patrick Ferry had sat in the chair at the head of the table and held his youngest daughter’s hands while she was Marked by Seamus Ferry.

Today Dec would sit in his father’s place. He hoped Galena could take it. When they reached the table, she kicked off her slippers and looked down at the surface, her eyes tracing the wings of the raven. “How long will this take?” she asked in a small, quiet voice.

“Six hours,” Aislin said. “We’ll be done by midnight.”

Galena’s shaking hand gripped his, a tremor vibrating through Dec. He had the urge to put his arm around her and hold her close, but he didn’t know how that would feel to her.

The door at the back of the room opened, and Seamus walked in, pushing his cart ahead of him. On the top rack of the cart was his equipment: the tattooing needle, a bowl filled with black ink, and a knife. When Galena saw it, she went very still. “I,” she began in a choked voice. “The knife. I—”

“It’s not for you,” the old man said as he plodded forward, his gnarled hands and thick knuckles protruding from the sleeves of his long black robe. Seamus Ferry was one of the oldest Ferrys alive, though no one knew exactly how old he was. He hadn’t retired yet, just aged very, very slowly.

“A Claiming today, is it?” he said in a gravelly voice, his beady brown eyes focusing on Galena. “Mmm. Good. A Claiming.”

Dec could feel Galena’s horror through their joined hands, and suddenly it was too much. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and sighed with relief when she leaned into him.

Seamus pushed his cart against the table and gestured at it. “Well, get up here, dear. When you’re laid out, we’ll begin the Marking.”

Galena looked back at Eli and then up at Dec. Silently, she sat down on the table and scooted back, then turned onto her stomach. Cacy strode to the side of the table and straightened Galena’s skirt so it covered the back of her thighs. The soles of her bare feet, white and soft-looking, faced the ceiling. Dec tried not to stare at her body, but it was pretty much impossible.

“Who Claims this human as a Ferry?” Seamus asked in a loud voice, his Irish accent thick and lilting.

Dec cleared his throat and said his line, though it felt like it was coming from someone else. “I, Declan Cian Patrick Ferry, Claim her.”

“And who will witness this Claiming by your side?”

Dec felt a pit in his stomach. H
e’d
wanted it to be Trevor. He looked around. “
I . . .
”

“I will,” said Cacy. She came to stand next to him, and he gave her a smile tinged with sadness. She linked her arm with his as Eli edged closer to the table where his sister lay before them. He looked a little pale.

“And what does the Charon say about this pairing?” asked Seamus, looking at Aislin.

She was silent for several seconds, and Dec’s jaw clenched. But then she said, “I offer my blessing.” Aislin lifted a flat wooden jewelry box sh
e’d
brought with her. “And a Scope, forged by the Keepers of the Afterlife.”

Seamus nodded. Then he looked down at Galena. “And you, my dear. Give us your name.”

Galena’s cheek was pressed to the polished wood of the table. “Galena Rachel Margolis,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And do you consent to be Claimed by Declan, to be linked to him by blood and body, to affix your fate to his until death?”

She nodded, her lips pressed tight together.

“Speak, dear. We need to hear your voice,” chided Seamus.

Galena glanced at Dec, then looked away. But then she looked back, and their gazes held. He felt the oddest swooping sensation, like the floor had dropped out from under him. “I do,” she said, her voice a little louder.

“And do you understand the blessings and limitations of this bond? Do you understand that, should Declan choose to relinquish his Mark and Scope, or should he become incapacitated and unable to perform his duty as a Ferry, or should he be deprived of his title by the Charon, your status as a Ferry will also be voided, until such time as he returns to his duties?”

Every one of Dec’s muscles was knotted tight. This was it. She would be stuck with him, and he would be stuck, too, unable to retire even if he wanted to, unless he wanted to make her vulnerable again.

“I do,” said Galena, still looking at him, her eyes wide and trusting. Something about her expression loosened the tension in his body the slightest bit.

Seamus gestured at Galena’s back. Her dress was fastened by a row of small buttons from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, a long, elegant line. “Declan, do the honors.”

Slowly, Dec reached down, and he caressed Galena’s cheek with his fingertips. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back.

Her consent allowed him to move his feet, which carried him to the side of the table next to Eli, who stepped out of the way for him. This had to be weird for the guy. He was watching someone undress his sister. Dec purposefully did not meet Eli’s eyes as his fingers began to work the buttons, revealing Galena’s smooth, pale skin. She was so slender that the wings of her shoulder blades stood out sharp and fragile in the terrain of her body. Her flesh rippled with goose bumps as it was exposed to the cool air in the room. Dec fought the urge to run his palm down her back, just to connect with her, to offer her some warmth. It seemed to take forever for him to reach her waist, and he took a moment to look at her.

His bride.

Damn, she was beautiful. Dec returned to the head of the table, where he met her eyes once more. “Still yeah?” he murmured as he looked at the buttons that held this specially made dress together at her shoulders.

“Still yeah,” she said, her voice a little raspy.

Dec’s hands trembled as he undid the button on her right shoulder, then her left. He held his breath as he pulled the fabric away and tucked it under her arms, his fingertips only inches from the swells of her breasts pressed to the unforgiving table. Galena’s back was bare. The bumps of her spine, the faint ripple of her rib cage as she breathe
d . . .
He could see so much, and the desire to see more tugged at him, a restless hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Seamus leaned forward and poked Dec in the shoulder. Dec reluctantly tore his eyes from Galena’s body. “Take your seat, Declan, and surrender your blood.”

Galena blinked. Dec slipped off his suit jacket and handed it to Cacy. He undid the buttons at his right wrist and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. As Seamus pushed the cart within his reach, Dec took his seat in the wooden chair at the head of the table, so he and Galena were face-to-face.

“
G . . .
” Eli said nervously.

“You are not authorized to speak, Ker,” snapped Seamus.

“It’s all right,” said Cacy. “He’s her brother.”

“Then feel free to stand there and look menacing, but don’t interrupt again.”

Eli’s eyes briefly glowed red, but he didn’t say another word. His gaze kept darting between the knife and Galena, who was now staring at the blade as Seamus lifted it from the cart and handed it to Dec.

“Surrender your blood, that she may be Claimed,” said Seamus.

“You don’t have to watch,” whispered Dec. “Close your eyes.”

She did, tightly, and Eli gave him a grateful look, confirming to Dec h
e’d
done the right thing. He looked down at the knife in his hand. This was the most sacred of commitments, and h
e’d
only just learned his intended’s middle name. He didn’t even know how old she was or whether she was a vegetarian or what made her laugh o
r . . .
if she could ever grow to love him. This was fucking insane.

Protect her and you protect the future,
his father’s voice whispered in his head.

Dec brought the knife down and sliced the length of his forearm, the blood welling immediately as he held his arm over the bowl. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the pain came with an odd sort of elation. The decision had been made. Now he just needed to see it through. Dec stared as the shining red drops fell from his skin and into the bowl of ink. Galena flinched at every tiny
plink
, like they were gun blasts.

After a few minutes, the ink glowed bright, his blood slicking in luminous, shimmering swirls within the ebony puddle. “Ah, that’s enough,” said Seamus. “Very good.” He handed Dec a cloth, which he held over his arm to stem the flow. The wound would be healed long before this ceremony was over. Still, Dec could sense that the knife and the blood upset Galena, so he wound the cloth tightly over his forearm and slid his arm beneath the table, out of her line of sight. Eli nodded, and Dec nodded back.

Seamus stirred the bowl with the tip of the knife, then smiled. “Let’s begin.”

Dec took one of Galena’s hands and interlaced their fingers as Seamus turned on the needles, which hummed with promise. Galena closed her eyes and tucked her face into her shoulder, and it made Dec’s chest ache. During other Claiming ceremonies h
e’d
witnessed, the Ferry sitting in this chair would murmur quietly to his or her intended, planting soft kisses on the beloved’s brow as Seamus did his work.

Dec lowered his head and spoke quietly into Galena’s ear, words only for her. “I’m in this with you, and I’ll do anything you need. If you want me close, let me know. If you want me to give you space, push me away. But you’re not alone.”

Galena let out a soft, desperate whimper as the needles pierced her skin, as Seamus began to draw the raven, not from a stencil, not from a pattern, but purely from memory. H
e’d
done it thousands and thousands of times before.

“I’m here,” Dec whispered again.

She squeezed his hand. Hard. And then her other hand slid over the table and rose to touch his face. Her fingers threaded into his hair and pulled tight. She was keeping him close. The world shrank down to the few feet around him. He was only aware of her.

Dec closed his eyes as the needles hummed, as he inhaled Galena’s honey-warm scent. It wasn’t much. It was only a beginning. But to him, it felt like a miracle.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

G
alena,” Dec whispered, “it’s finished.” His eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as he lifted his head.

“We’re done?” she croaked.

“Your Mark is complete,” said the old man. “Congratulations, and best wishes for a happy life together.” And then she heard the tinny shriek of the cart wheels retreating toward the back of the room.

She raised her head, blinking as her vision swam and blurred. But then they landed on the man in front of her. His dark hair was sticking up in places, and his blue eyes were shot with concern. Sh
e’d
spent the last several hours clinging to the sound of his voice. Her fingers were still tightly entwined with his, and she didn’t want to let go.

“You did great,” he said, his thumb stroking over her knuckles.

A glass of water was placed in front of her. Cacy smiled and stepped back. “Thought you might need that. You’re all bandaged up and ready to go.”

After she took a sip, Galena looked down to realize her dress had been buttoned over her shoulders once more. She reluctantly released Dec’s hand and pushed herself up to sit on the table. Eli was leaning against it with an arm clutching his stomach. He looked like he was about to throw up. “You okay?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Are you?” she asked.

“Eli, she’s fine. Go,” said Dec. “I’ve got this.”

Eli gave Dec a hard, searching look, then disappeared. Galena rubbed her eyes. “There is no scientific explanation for that,” she muttered.

Dec chuckled. “You aren’t kidding.”

She glanced at Cacy. “
Is
he okay?”

Cacy nodded. “He just needs to attend to something urgent, and he’s put it off for the past few hours, which made him not feel so good. But he’ll be fine now. It’s part of being a Ker.”

“Ready to go?” Dec asked.

Galena forced a smile onto her face. “Ready.”
So very not ready.
She kept her head down as she slid off the table. Dec stepped forward and steadied her with a hand on her elbow. The bandage over her back rubbed against the fabric of her dress. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“We put some numbing cream on it,” said Dec.

Aislin stepped in front of Galena and offered her the flat wooden box sh
e’d
been holding. “This is the Scope, the Window to the Veil, to the Afterlife. It’s your responsibility to safeguard it and keep it on your person at all times.” She arched an eyebrow and looked over at Cacy, who scowled. “When there is a soul to be guided, you’ll feel it. Dec will show you how it’s done.”

She opened the box to reveal a pendant exactly like the one Dec and the rest of them wore, a thick platinum disk perhaps an inch or so across with a raven etched into its surface. It was attached to a setting and a shimmery platinum chain. Dec reached around her and took it from the box. “May I?”

Galena nodded and lifted her hair. His fingers were warm against the nape of her neck as he fastened the catch, and the heavy Scope nestled in the hollow at the base of her throat.

Aislin turned to Dec. “We’ll be making the announcement in the morning, once you have finished the Claiming.”

Dec tensed. “All right. We’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He took Galena’s hand and led her out of the room.

The ride back to his apartment was silent. Dec seemed distracted as he stared out the window at the amphibious vehicles and boats that zoomed by in the canal. In the distance, a siren screamed, and Dec frowned, leaning to try to see where it came from. Galena felt a pang of guilt. She knew he was a dedicated paramedic; Eli had told her as much. Did he resent being kept from his job?

As the amphibious limousine roared up the canal ramp and onto dry streets, Galena peered at the dark skyscraper in front of them, the apartment complex owned by the Ferrys. Her new home. It was farther from Harvard than she would have like
d . . .
but then again, was there anything left for her there? Everything felt so out of control.

And when the limousine came to a stop in front of the building, Galena’s heart kicked into a frantic rhythm. This was it. After tonight, sh
e’d
be able to return to her research. Assuming Dr. Cassidy and the Immunology Department welcomed her back. But how could they not? The
y’d
already invested so much in her, and she planned to deliver. She would consult with the university as her lab was rebuilt and get the vaccine trials back on schedule, perhaps in just a few months. It was possible. Especially because sh
e’d
only need one hour of sleep per day! When Cacy had told her that before the ceremony, Galena had been thrilled. Maybe the nightmares would disappear, too. It would be worth it.

She just had to get through the next few hours.

As they walked through the lobby toward the elevator, she glanced at Dec from the corner of her eye. His head was bowed, and his eyes were focused on a spot on the floor about six feet ahead. Very soon, sh
e’d
be closer to him than sh
e’d
been to anyone in years. A horrified thought occurred to her—that meant h
e’d
see the scars. H
e’d
see what the
y’d
done, how damaged she was. She imagined a look of disgust on his handsome face. Now it felt like her heart was in her throat.

Dec took her hand as they stepped from the elevator onto his floor. He led her into his apartment and kicked his shoes off at the door, then cringed and placed them neatly next to a pile of boots. “We’l
l . . .
u
h . . .
I’ll clean it up a bit.”

Her brow furrowed. His place wasn’t that messy. In fact, it looked like no one lived here at all. It reminded her of her and Eli’s apartment in Cambridge, actually, merely a stopping point for essentials—sleeping, bathing, eating—while the rest of life was lived somewhere else. “It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need much.”

Dec looked at her with a half smile on his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

She tilted her head at his bemused expression. “Why? Did you expect me to whine that you don’t have fancy rugs or chandeliers or something? Do you know where I come from?”

He took a step closer to her. “I think I want to. Tell me about when you were a kid.”

“Let’s see. I went to Allderdice High School, and it was this massive crumbling old building at the top of a hill of cracked dirt. There used to be over a thousand students, but at that point, most kids didn’t bother—it was more about surviving each day than planning for the future. There were maybe twenty people in my graduating class. And I remember there was this group of squatters that had taken over the whole rear wing of the building. We had to walk to class in packs, because we were afraid of being mugged.”

“In the halls of your school? Why did you go, if it was so dangerous?”

“My dad said it would be a waste if we didn’t.” She smiled at a memory. “He walked us there every day and was waiting outside to walk us home when we got out of class. He was a big, gruff guy. A veteran of the Texan Secession War. No one wanted to mess with him.”

Dec’s ice-blue eyes scanned her face. “Sounds like he recognized your potential.”

Galena’s heart ached at the memory of him. “He used to say that I owed the world something great.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

She looked down at her hands. “It didn’t feel that way, though. He had so much confidence in me that it was easy to believe he was right. It was also easy to believe I could do it.”

“And you have,” Dec said softly.

“Not yet.”

“But you will.”

She raised her head. The look in his eyes took her breath away. It was so solid, so steady, so certain. Just as confident as her dad had ever been. She smiled. “I think I will.”
Assuming I can get through tonight.

He must have seen the shadow of doubt flicker across her face, because he gave her a playful grin. “So do you prefer Mrs. Dr. Margolis-Ferry, or Dr. Mrs. Margolis-Ferry? Or just Dr.? Because your name is going to be on all the gossip sites. I’ve heard that I’m an ‘inveterate bachelor.’”

“So they’ll all want to know who snagged you?”

“Oh, yes.” His black hair fell across his forehead. “I’m quite the catch.”

Yes, you are.
The thought came like a reflex, an easy, indisputable truth. “So they’ll all be shocked when they find out you didn’t marry a society beauty?”

His face became utterly somber. “No, I don’t think they’ll be shocked at all.”

“But when they find out you’ve married a dry hard-core academic?”

His crooked smile returned. “They’ll wonder why on earth you chose me.”

Not really. The
y’d
probably think she married him for his money.
Is marrying him for immortality any better?
“Dr. Mrs.,” she said quickly.

“Dr. Mrs. it is,” he murmured. He knew the score. He was too smart and too aware not to. But would he ever feel anything real for her? Was that possible?

“De
c . . .
”

“Yeah?”

“I jus
t . . .
I just want you to kno
w . . .
I’m so glad it’s you.” She reached for his hand.

He laced his fingers with hers. “I wouldn’t do this with just anyone,” he said. “I hope you know that.”

A breath shuddered from her as he caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. The touch made her heart skip and her body tighten.

But Dec frowned, looking at her with concern. “Do you want a drink?” he asked. “Whiskey, or a beer? It might help.”

“Help?” She found herself staring at his mouth as he talked. He was the perfect height, so that his mouth was right at the level of her eyes. It had a nice shape: full bottom lip, a delicate curve in his upper lip, a hint of softness in his angular face.

“To relax you?” His thumb slid along her jawline, but there was uncertainty in his eyes.

She closed hers so she didn’t have to see it. “No, thank you. Mayb
e . . .
maybe we should just get it over with. Where should we do it?”

“Um. Okay.” His hand fell away. “Where would you be most comfortable?”

“A bed, I guess.”

She followed Dec into his bedroom. It was as plain as the rest of the apartment, just a wide mattress on a low platform, a bedside table, a videowall, and a set of floor-to-ceiling windows like the ones in Cacy’s guest room. The view of the city was breathtaking.

This was it. This was the room where it would happen.
Move, Galena.
Keep moving. You can do this.

She turned, folding herself into Dec’s side and feeling his body against hers. Within her mind, the memories shook the bars of their cages, a warning. But she shoved them back—tonight they needed to stay where they were. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done this,” she whispered, shifting so that her breasts were pressed to his chest, only thin layers of fabric between them. Conflicting signals cascaded through her, a subtle tightening, a craving, as well as a raw, instinctual fear.

“It’s been a while for me too, actually,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “And I know we don’t know each other well. That’ll have to come later. But I will tell you now—you are so beautiful, Galena.”

His forehead touched hers. His nose skimmed her cheek. Galena’s fingers curled into the sleeves of his shirt, feeling the rock-hard curves of his biceps. His scent was in her nose, his herbal cologne and a hint of sweat: masculine, hot, and dangerous.
Dangerous.

No.
She lifted her chin and her lips touched his. Dec tensed, maybe in surprise, but then he drew her closer, melding his mouth to hers. His lips were soft. The kiss was an act of pure sensuality, slow and restrained. He cupped her face as he slipped his tongue between her lips, not invading her but teasing and pulling back. Her hands slid up his shoulders to his neck. She wanted to laugh. This was okay.

It was better than okay.

It felt good.

She teased him back. The next time he touched her lip with the tip of his tongue, she met it with her own. Dec groaned softly and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along hers in one long delicious stroke. She weaved her fingers into his hair, over the spot where h
e’d
been so badly injured protecting her. She was lucky to be here with him. How had she gotten so lucky?

Dec’s breath rasped from his throat as their kiss grew more intense. A shiver of delight coursed down her spine—he liked kissing her, she could tell, and it gave her more confidence. Her hand skimmed down to his chest, smooth beneath his shirt. His heart was pounding just like hers. Between her legs, Galena felt a surprising warm slickness, and it felt like victory. Who knew this would be so easy? She arched, rubbing her chest against his.

Dec’s hands fell to her hips, and he pulled her close.

Against her abdomen, she felt the long, hard jut of him.

“Grab her arms, fucker!” shouted the blond one as he slammed his pelvis against hers, ripping another scream from her throat. “She’s scratching the fuck out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Dec said, panting.

Galena blinked. She was shivering, and she realized Dec was standing three feet away from her, watching her warily. His shaft stood out against the front of his pants, and she stared. “Why are you sorry?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
Oh God, what did I just do?

Dec ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously, I did something wrong.”

Her fingers flexed at her sides, buzzing with cold, tingling numbness. “N-no,” she said. “You’re fine.”

His brows rose. “Are you joking? You just shoved me away.”

Frustration sliced through her. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, trying to keep her tone soft and calm. “You jus
t . . .
startled me.”

He looked down at the erection tenting his pants and chuckled. “Agai
n . . .
sorry?”

“Don’t be.”
Just push through this. He’s ready, and so are you.
She walked forward and drew him near again, and he melted as her lips touched his, though the kiss was more cautious this time. She pulled up his shirt, untucking it, and slid her palm along the rigid muscles at his waist. God, this man was made of muscle. Her fingernails scraped lightly along his side, and he shuddered, deepening their kiss again.