Death's Daughter (16 page)

Chapter Nineteen

The mages hadn’t been able to open a portal on Juliana’s lawn, claiming there was too much active magic in the area. Thomas didn’t like the sound of that. They stepped from the portal a block from Juliana’s house and ran in that direction. A resounding crash sounded, and Thomas watched in horror as the house collapsed in on itself. She couldn’t be in there. Not his Juliana.

Pain and panic flooded through him as his mate dropped her shields suddenly and completely. The sensation took his breath and he bent forward, clutching at his chest. Then just like that, from one second to the next, she was gone. This went beyond her putting her shields back in place. The sensation of her being completely removed from his awareness tore through him. The blood drained from his face and he staggered to the side. Even when she kept herself shielded against him, there had always been a thread of awareness. A connection. The knowledge that somewhere on the planet she was alive.

Now there was nothing. He fell to his knees, the realization that she was lost to him too much to bear.

“Maybe she wasn’t inside,” Michael said, desperation making his voice shake.

Thomas didn’t respond as he moved closer to the house, moving on pure adrenaline and instinct. He was desperate to confirm with his eyes what he already knew in his heart. Portals began popping up along the length of the street and cars rolled to a stop in front of the yard. The elemental and the wolf came to stand beside him.

The elemental stood in the front yard, staring at the rubble, looking completely lost. The wolf dropped to the ground beside him. A thought flashed that the wolf was supposed to bring her home, protect her. But Thomas shoved it aside. It didn’t matter. Wasn’t important. He should have been the one to bring her here. He should have been the one to protect her. But once again, he had failed. And this time his failure was fatal. Her father had told them once that if she ever crossed over completely, he wouldn’t be able to bring her back. He’d warned Thomas and still he’d failed to protect her as he should have.

“She called for help. Dispatch couldn’t hear anything other than a high-pitched whistle. They traced the call,” the elemental said in explanation of their arrival. He turned the device in his hand so they could see the red dot flashing, indicating the caller’s position. Twenty feet in front of them. Beneath piles of wood and concrete.

Agents around the perimeter had started to sift through the rubble but it would take them hours, if not days, to clear it. To find her. To bring Thomas’s bride home to him.

“Maybe she got out after she made the call,” Michael insisted, unwilling to believe what was right in front of him.

“Don’t you think she’d let us know she’s okay?” the wolf asked. He looked up at them from his perch on the ground, his eyes lined with red.

“Maybe she can’t.”

“She’s come back to us before,” the elemental said, but his tone belied his words.

Thomas closed his eyes. Reached out with that piece of his mind, his heart and his soul that connected to hers. Searched for any sign, any indication that she still lived. There was nothing but the ragged hole where she should be. He opened his eyes to find the others all looking at him, waiting for him to make the pronouncement. “Not this time,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s gone.”

* * *

Michael pulled up in front of the hotel and parked in the unloading area. Thomas didn’t move, just sat looking out the windshield at the sunrise, wondering how his life could change so much in the course of one day. His door opened and he looked up to see Michael standing there, his hand out. Thomas ignored it and got himself to his feet. He brushed past his friend and into the hotel.

He heard the car door slam, then Michael was at his elbow, steering him, guiding him. They stopped at the front desk. “Get Nicholas,” Michael ordered.

Moments later the man appeared before them in a puff of smoke. “My lord, what has happened to you?”

Thomas tried to find the words but found himself unable to explain. Unwilling to bring misery to anyone else.

“Juliana Norris is dead,” Michael answered for him, his voice heavy with grief. “I’m taking him upstairs, make sure we aren’t disturbed.”

“Of course, Mr. Bishop. I am so sorry, Mr. Kendrick. I liked her.”

Thomas managed to nod his head in acknowledgement. Michael led him over to the elevator. Once they were inside, he released Thomas’s elbow and they both slumped against the back of the car. “You’re almost home,” Michael said, as if being home was a magical cure. As if everything there wouldn’t remind him of her. As if he hadn’t decorated it with her in mind.

The doors slid open revealing the ocean of flowers and balloons. Had it really only been the previous morning that he’d given them to her? That he’d watched her face light up in surprise?

“Shit,” Michael said as he looked around. “Do you want me to get rid of this stuff? I can stick it in one of the rooms.”

“No,” Thomas forced out. It was the first word he’d spoken since he confirmed her death. “Get out.”

Michael’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll stay out of your way, but I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Get out,” he said again, shuffling away from his friend and farther into the room.

“No.”

Thomas spun then and unleashed his rage. His rage at being ignored, at having his word questioned, his rage at the universe for taking his Juliana away from him. “Get out!”

Michael backed up. “Come on, Thomas. Don’t do this.”

Thomas slumped in exhaustion and defeat. “Just go, my friend. I need to be alone.”

Michael set his jaw, a clear sign he didn’t like the situation. But finally, he nodded. “All right. But don’t do anything stupid. She’d hate you for it.”

Thomas just stared at him and waited for him to get in the elevator. As soon as the door shut, Thomas whirled and knocked flowers from the table beside him with a sweep of his arm. Glass shattered. He did it again and again, clearing every surface, littering the carpet with a minefield of glass shards. He grabbed a knife and popped every balloon until he was left standing in a landscape of that mirrored his desolation.

Breathing heavily, he looked around at the destruction he’d wrought. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He put the knife on the counter and stumbled across the living room and into his office. Once there, he opened the gun cabinet and took in the arsenal she’d left him. He wouldn’t use one of her guns for this. No, he had his own.

He grabbed his favorite, the one he kept loaded with special ammunition. The bullets were charmed to keep the wounds open, to let the victim bleed out. And once enough blood had poured from him, he’d be nothing but ash. He dropped into the chair behind his desk and put the gun in his mouth. Just as he was ready to pull the trigger, his eyes fell on the picture he kept on his desk of the two of them. He set the gun on the desk and picked up the photo. Hot tears leaked down his face as he ran a hand down the image of his mate. Happy to be with him. Before he’d let her down over and over again.

He glanced at the gun. He couldn’t fail her again. He had to wait. Once they found her and brought her home to him, he’d see her laid comfortably to rest. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to join her.

* * *

Everything hurt. That’s what brought her to her senses, the sudden awareness of constant pain. She lay with her eyes shut taking inventory. All of her pieces seemed to be present and accounted for but they all ached or throbbed. The weight and pressure of the debris was gone. Maybe they’d dug her out. She cracked her eyes open slowly in case she was wrong and the house was still on top of her.

A pair of green eyes that mirrored her own peered down at her. “Oh good, it worked,” her father said and stepped back.

Aeron Rowantree was the dark fae god of death. He should know what he was doing. It made her nervous when it sounded like he didn’t. She lifted a hand to wipe the grime away from her face, but a quick inspection showed her hands to be filthy, streaked with blood and unlikely to make her face any cleaner. She started to push herself up and her father helped her sit on the edge of the bed. Pain vibrated through her and made her tremble.

“Don’t move,” he said and hurried to the far side of the room.

Where exactly he thought she was going to go, she had no idea. She could barely breathe without whimpering. A jaunt outside wasn’t happening anytime soon. After a moment, he was back, a wet towel in his hand. She took it gratefully and pressed it against her face, breathing through the damp fabric. When she wiped the filth away, it turned the towel black. She scrubbed at her face then both arms and her hands. She handed it back to her father and he went to rinse it out.

Something was seriously wrong, something beyond the pain but she couldn’t focus on it. She looked around the room. She knew this place. “I guess I almost died again.” Juliana had “died” three times, well, four now. Previously she’d thought she actually died, but on her last case, her father told she’d only come close. She’d come close and he’d pushed her back to the living. On two of those occasions, her spirit had woken up here in his home while her body remained wherever it rested.

He shook his head. “Not this time. This time I transported you here. It was the only thing I could think of to ensure your survival.”

She blinked. “I’m in Tir Na Nog? Like, actually physically here?” That would explain why she felt all the pain, but he couldn’t have really brought her into faerie.

“I felt you fading and came to you, but your body was in such a place it couldn’t be sustained. I had no choice.” He stretched his hands out to the side in a gesture of innocence.

“Are you crazy? You know the things that happen to people in faerie.”

He smiled. “I know the things that happen to careless humans who end up in faerie. You, my dear, are half fae and my daughter. I think you’re safe.”

“Then why did you act surprised that it had worked?”

He waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “I had never transported anyone back with me before. I wasn’t certain it would work.” He moved over to a nearby table and began fussing with the items on it. She stared at his back in disbelief. Leave it to her father to be completely unconcerned with the fact that he could have killed her trying to transport her. Of course, if he hadn’t, she’d be dead anyway.

“So who is trying to kill you this time, daughter?” he asked as he kept mixing things together.

She shook her head and grimaced at the pain the movement brought with it. “I’m not sure. I’m working a case. I suppose it could be that asshole, but there was no way for him to know where I lived. Or it might be Raoul again.”

“That particular vampire is proving to be a rather large pain in the ass. But if it wasn’t him, it must be someone who knows you, where you live.”

She didn’t want to think about someone she knew trying to kill her. Much better to assume it was Raoul. Then another thought occurred to her. “The ghoul.”

“A ghoul is trying to kill you?”

“It’s possible. He’s a suspect in my case. He could have the Finding.” The Finding was a gift that helped the possessor track objects or people. It was a rare ability but more common among ghouls than any other classification of Altered.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re any closer to your answers than you were when I brought you here. I’m sorry for that.” He turned back to his concoction. Once it he finished it he poured it into a glass and handed it to her. “Drink that.”

She arched a brow. “I don’t think so. Can’t you just zap me better?”

He sighed. “As I find the need to keep telling you, I am a god of death. Restoration is not one of my talents. I cannot heal you, return you to life or even restore your faded memories. You are half fae, half mage. Not human. And you are the daughter of a god. Nothing here will harm you.”

“Famous last words,” she grumbled but she downed the liquid just the same.

A cool fog rolled through her, numbing the pain. She sighed in relief. And as the pained daze flowed from her brain, she realized something else was missing as well. “Thomas,” she breathed.

“What of your mate?”

“I can’t feel him.” She tried not to panic at the numb feeling that had taken up residence in the middle of her chest and the back of her brain.

He sat in a chair across the room. “It wouldn’t surprise me if your bond doesn’t reach between the realms. Some distances are just too far to be bridged.”

She jerked her head up. “So he won’t be able to feel me either?”

“I doubt it. I don’t see why his bond would be stronger than yours.”

Perhaps because he hadn’t been fighting it for the last seven years. “I’ve got to get back.”

“You aren’t healed yet. If someone’s trying to kill you, and it seems someone is always trying to kill you, you need to be recovered before you leave.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you see? He’s going to think I’m dead. I can’t leave him like that. Besides I’ve got some prey to track down.”

Aeron sighed. “Very well, but only because I like your mate and do not wish him to suffer. And I know he will take care of you if I send you back to him.”

Juliana stood, her legs unsteady.

“I’m afraid time passes slower here than in your world,” he said, coming to stand next to her. “While it’s only been minutes here, it’s been hours there.”

“All the more reason I should go now, don’t you think?”

“Where do you want to go?”

She thought briefly about having him just drop her in the suite at the hotel, but decided appearing out of thin air might not be the best way to convince her mate she was alive and well. “Outside of the Roma hotel.”

He raised his hands to cast the spell to send her home. She placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Thank you for saving me,” she told him. After putting on one of his cloaks, she nodded at him to continue. The last thing she saw before Tir Na Nog faded from sight was her father’s smile.

Chapter Twenty

The wave of grief that crashed over her when she appeared in the alley outside the Roma literally rocked her on her feet. She braced herself against the rough wall behind her and took a deep breath. “Oh, Thomas.” She willed him to feel her through his agony. She pushed herself away from the wall and pulled the hood up on the cloak.

Making her way through the lobby she got a few curious looks, but it likely had more to do with her wearing a velvet and fur cloak in fall than it did anything else. She made her way past them all to the little elevator that would take her to her mate. In an echo of their first meeting, Nicholas stepped in front of her, barring her progress.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Kendrick is not to be disturbed. By anyone.” The concierge looked defeated, run-down. They all thought she was dead. And perhaps it was better if some continued to think that. A glance around showed no one paying attention to them.

She pushed the hood of the cloak back just far enough that he could see her face. “I think he’ll make an exception for me. Don’t you?”

He gasped. “But, Mr. Bishop said—”

She put a finger to her lips. “I’m beginning to get the idea. Let’s leave it that way for right now. You, me and the boss are the only ones who need to know I’m here.”

“Of course,” he answered and visibly pulled himself together. He stepped out of her way. “It’s very good to see you, Ms. Norris,” he said as she passed.

She punched her code in on the keypad. “It’s good to be seen.”

When the doors opened, she stepped inside. Grief still weighed on her, buried her. “Come on, Thomas. Feel me.” She pushed out mentally, reached for him and finally, through his mire of emotions, he reached back. Tentatively at first, but by the time she reached the suite he had fully invaded her brain. And, for the first time since their Union, she left the wall down and let him do as he wished. He’d earned it.

The doors slid open and Thomas stood there, waiting, standing on a floor of shattered glass. All of her beautiful flowers and balloons had been destroyed. The look on his face, both expectant but disbelieving, made her heart ache for him. She stepped out of the elevator and took off the cloak, throwing it over the back of the couch. For a moment, he only looked at her. All of his questions and hesitations flowed to her over their bond. She sent back waves of reassurance.

He took a step forward, reached out and touched the side of her face. She leaned into his hand. “Hello,” she said.

That was his undoing. Her mate, the one she always thought unbreakable, fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around her waist and trembled. Full-body tremors shook his entire frame while he buried his face in her belly. And in that moment, she knew she’d never be able to resist him again. She was tired of fighting this thing between them, tired of listening to her head instead of her heart.

* * *

She was here. He was still having difficulty processing that. When he’d felt her again, felt the threads of their bond, he’d assumed it was his grief-addled mind trying to keep her alive. But then she’d reached out for him and, gods help him, he’d reached back. He no longer cared if she was only a figment of his imagination. If it was a delusion, it was one he very much wanted to live in for the rest of his life.

Now he was on his knees, burying his face against her side like a schoolboy instead of a centuries-old vampire. He breathed in the scent of her, tried to calm himself. At least the question of what would happen to him if his mate ever died had been well and thoroughly answered. He’d become an utterly broken wretch.

Juliana ran her fingers along his scalp in a repetitive gesture, soothing his agony. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the rough fabric of her shirt. The motion lifted up the tank and exposed the pale flesh of her stomach. Turning into it, he laid a featherlight kiss upon it. Her stomach hitched as she sucked in her breath, and he smiled against her skin. He grasped her hips in his hands and turned her square with him. He ran his hands up to her waist, taking the shirt with them until a thin strip of tender flesh was exposed.

He started at one side and moved across laying a trail of kisses, soft nips and gentle licks across the expanse of her belly. At the first brush of his teeth, her fingers stilled in his hair. By the time he’d crossed to the other side, both hands fisted in his hair, pressing him against her.

He had to have her, had to prove to himself that she was really there and not just a figment of his imagination. He stood swiftly then, taking her shirt with him. She raised her arms and let him sweep it off over her head without protest. She needed this as much as he did. He tossed the top aside. Her breasts were bared to him and she showed no shame, no embarrassment. Gods, how he loved her. He reached out to cup one and then the other, delighting in the way they filled his hands perfectly. Leaning forward, he ran his tongue around one dusky nipple.

Her fingers found his hair again and she dug in bringing a welcome edge of pain. Her back arched as he continued worshiping her breasts and he marveled again that she was his. His goddess. She tugged him up to meet her lips and he captured them with his own, fed at them and drank her in. Their tongues danced together in an intimate foreplay of the act to come. Her fingers fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. He stepped away from her only long enough to take it off and toss it to the side with hers.

Immediately they grasped at each other—pressed flesh to heated flesh. He swept her up in his arms and headed to the bedroom. “Glass,” he mumbled against her lips when he felt her confusion. When they reached the room, he toed the door shut behind them and set her down. They separated long enough for them both to pull off their boots. Then they were back feeding at each other’s mouths while they fumbled with the buttons at their waistbands. They divested themselves of the constricting denim, all without their hungry mouths ceasing their feasting. He lifted her, cupped his hands under her ass and carried her until her back pressed against the wall. The little sanity he still possessed reminded him to make sure she was prepared for him. He slid two fingers into her core, finding her slick, hot and ready. He groaned.

A whimpering sound escaped the back of her throat and she rocked against him. He lifted her and aligned himself with her opening. Gritting his teeth, he eased her down the length of his shaft, forced himself to take his time. She locked her legs around his waist, arched her back and pressed her head against the wall. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And she was tight, so tight.

“More,” she breathed.

“
I’ll hurt you
.”

She gasped at the intimacy of him communicating without words. With their mental shields down, there was nothing to keep them from knowing each other’s every thought if they so desired. She leaned her forehead against his and looked him in the eyes. “
Never
.”

She rocked her hips against him again, rejoicing in the way he filled her completely, perfectly. As if they’d been made for one another. It was cheesy, she knew, but she just didn’t care. Her mate growled deep in his throat and pulled back until only the tip of him remained within her. He thrust forward in one swift movement and pleasure rolled through her, making her drop her head back again.

He began moving his hips in a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her slippery core. Pressed between him and the wall there was nowhere for her to go, not that she wanted to. Every time Thomas buried himself to the hilt, he rocked against her clit and sent a jolt of pure pleasure through her. Again and again, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She dug her nails into his sweat-slicked back.

Twin pinpricks of pain as Thomas bit the tender flesh at her neck barely registered through her lust-fogged brain as she broke apart and shattered. One final thrust and Thomas joined her in her orgasm. He licked the wound his bite made and lifted her off his cock. She kept her legs wrapped around him and nestled her face into his neck. They stayed leaning against the wall while they both panted in an attempt to catch their breath.

Eventually he straightened and staggered away from the wall. “You can put me down now,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulder and leaning back.

“I could,” he agreed, but he kept walking to their bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the counter and went over to the shower to turn the water on.

When he came back, he cupped her face in both hands and tipped it up so he could look in her eyes. “Never do that again. I don’t think I could survive it.”

“The sex?” she asked, innocently.

He sighed and closed his eyes. She could almost hear him counting to ten in his head. Or maybe she actually could. She was still adjusting to this no shields thing. “The dying,
Joya
. No more dying.”

“You can blame my dad for that one,” she said as he took her hand and unlaced the cuff that was still on her wrist. He set it on the counter, then led her into the stall.

He grabbed a washcloth and soaped it up, motioning for her to turn her back to him. “Explain what happened.”

And so she did, while he carefully scrubbed away every bit of dirt, grime and blood. First from her body, then from her hair.

“You were actually in Tir Na Nog?”

“Not for very long, but Aeron said time moves slower there. How long was it here?” She turned to face him.

“Nine hours.” His voice caught.

She looked up at him in surprise only to find him staring at her breasts. He reached up and cradled them in his hands. “Again already?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered and swept his mouth down to hers. She looped her arms around his neck, pressed against him. He broke away. “Not here. Not this time.”

He reached past her and turned the water off. He snatched a towel off the pile by the shower and dried her thoroughly, taking his time, enjoying the action. Not that she had any complaints.

After he dried himself off as well, he took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. He turned her, kissed her again as he backed her toward the bed. When the mattress hit the back of her knees, she sat down, then scooted backward across the bed. Thomas followed every move. Once she was sure they were both all the way on the bed, she laid back and still Thomas followed.

“You are mine,” he whispered against her lips.

“Yours,” she answered and she was.

* * *

They lay stretched out in the bed together after their second bout of lovemaking. They’d savored the moment, discovered each other. She rolled to face him and he mirrored the movement.

They just lay there, their fingers playing together, twining around each other. “I have another birthday present for you,” he said suddenly. He loved the way her eyes went wide when he startled her.

“I don’t need anything else, Thomas. You gave me enough.” Her cheeks pinked. She always hated being doted on. She damned well better get used to it.

He rolled out of the bed and walked over to his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he wrapped his hand around the box and turned back to her. Her gaze dropped to his cock and her tongue darted out to run along her lower lip. He hardened instantly in response. Insatiable. And how he loved it. “Eyes up here, love, or I’ll never get through this.”

Her face turned crimson and he chuckled in response. His heart pounded. Despite everything they’d just shared, there was still the possibility that she’d say no, that she’d turn him away. He walked around to her side of the bed and got down on one knee. She bolted upright in the bed, grasping at the sheet when it fell away to expose her breasts. “What are you doing?”

Gods, he hoped that wasn’t panic he heard in her voice. That wasn’t exactly what you wanted your mate to feel when you proposed to her. “
Joya
, I know I’ve not always been around when I should have been. And I know that I’ve hurt you and that I’ve let you down. And that there are a million reasons that you could regret being my mate and even more that could make you say no to being my wife.” He took a breath. “And the truth is you drive me crazy. You’re always taking insane risks to save those around you with no thought to yourself. You yell at me, stand up to me and generally do the exact opposite of anything I tell you to. And I love you for it. A thousand times a day I wonder what I possibly have done in my life to have earned you for a mate and then realize I don’t care as long as you’re mine.”

He opened the box and she gasped when she saw the ring. “I waited centuries for you, Juliana, and I know we’re United, but I’m asking you to be my wife.”