Protector of the Flame (29 page)

“Isn’t that a double standard?” No need for games.

“I will not be questioned by you.” The soft tone radiated with such power it sent a chill down Serenity’s spine. “Get out of my office. Do not return until you are prepared to address me in a respectful manner.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, half believing how quickly the conversation had unraveled. The woman who had shown her more affection than her own mother was kicking her out.

“Do not bother to collect your things, simply leave.”

Serenity walked out and slammed the door behind her. Sothis wanted nothing to do with her; she couldn’t bear the thought of alienating Neith. Grasping the doorknob, she considered going back and apologizing. But it was a double standard. She was right to call Neith on it. She wouldn’t kneel to a hypocrite who used the collective stream as her personal fountain of youth.

Only four historians remained at the computer terminals. The sun was low in the sky. Adriel stared at her with raised eyebrows. He shut down his laptop and came to her side.

“If you’re standing here waiting for Neith to come after you, it won’t happen. If you’re trying to decide whether or not to apologize for something, I highly recommend the apology.”

“You have no idea what it was about. She may have been wrong.”

Adriel guided her from Neith’s door with a hand on her lower back and toward the walkway. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

“Neith has taken to you, she cares for you. And you seem to appreciate her affection. Whatever the quarrel, put it behind you.”

“But she…” Serenity stopped, uncertain how much to share.

“So I can tell you my secrets, but you can’t tell me yours.”

The past three weeks had been deliriously beautiful and unbearably hard. Cyrus, her sun and moon, filled her world with light, restoring the tidal flow of her core, but the sky was lovelier with stars to adorn the face of heaven. She missed her conversations with Adriel, the playful ease of being near him, his breezy way of distraction.

She wanted Cyrus to get to know him, to see he was a good brother, but he’d see the rest as well. Not that it would ever amount to anything. Since he came back, he’d been his normal, playful self.

No glimmer of the intense animal that wanted to rip off her clothes. The incident forgiven, even if not forgotten.

“I won’t discuss what you share with anyone else,” he coaxed.

They strolled into the dining hall and sat at an empty table. Handfuls were starting to arrive, but it was still early.

“Did you know when Neith connects to the collective she can choose how much she gives back? Did you know she can siphon energy without giving anything back at all?”

He smiled warmly and brushed her hand with his thumb. “Like you?”

“How did you know? I didn’t realize I was doing it,” she whispered.

“You’ve been very subtle, even more so than Neith, siphoning droplets. I admired your steadfast conviction not to connect, but since I returned from the mainland, I’ve felt your energy field wavering as you dip in and then disengage.” Long, deft fingers cupped her hand. “Your energy stream vibrates at a low level. The others probably don’t even feel it when you drift in and out of the collective.”

She moved her hand from his, grabbing a drink of water. “Why do you feel it?”

The tables were beginning to fill in. The kitchen detail delivered plates, cups, utensils. Enticing aromas wafted out every time the kitchen doors swung open.

“The vibrations of those I’ve healed are distinctive to me.”

“Does my leeching disturb you?”

“There’s nothing you could do that would ever disturb me.”

She was grateful for his loyalty and friendship. Things would’ve been easier for them all if she never had him restore her memories, but to know the truth, to relive it was worth a trek through hell.

One of the workers delivered food to their table. Three others had joined them, but there was room for seven more and a space next to her for Cyrus.

“Why did you and Neith fight?”

Spiny tendrils of her energy stream grazed Adriel’s pool. Her stream stretched further, skimming the pools of the Kindred sitting nearby. Soothing comfort came with each little suck from the collective.

“Her rules are unfair. She doesn’t want me to leech like she does.”

The back of his hand brushed hers. “In watching the parents here with their younglings, I’ve noticed they often set rules that are unfair and make little sense to me. Neith may see the weakness of a person or a thing, but she isn’t perfect. She’s flawed like the rest of us.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Then you should.” The intensity of his gaze, amorous and unwavering, made her look away. “I’m going back to the mainland with Nikos soon.”

“You’re either gone or so far away lately. I barely get to speak to you.” With the slip of her tongue, she remembered the thin, thin line between them. “But it’s for the best.” She drew her hand into her lap.

Distance was the only way she could be sure the tether didn’t skew her perspective and lure her into a mistake that couldn’t be undone.

He lowered his head. “Do you remember where I taught you how to play chess?”

The far side of the island above the cliffs. Away from Neith’s eyes. “Of course.”

“I go there to watch the sun rise. If you ever need to talk, you can find me there.”

One temptation she didn’t have to worry about. She spent sunrise curled in her
kabashem’s
arms.

“Start making your list of things you’ll want me to bring back for you.”

She leaned in and whispered, “I already know what I want. Chocolate, lots of rich and creamy chocolate, and I need enough to share with Talus.”

He winked. “Consider it done.”

Every vein of her energy stream retreated from the collective vibrations around her and redirected its thirst. Quivering tentacles stretched out for the one stream she couldn’t get enough of. Cyrus was near.

Gentle ripples of his stream flowed into hers. Her stream pulled on his pool until they melded into one. A rush of exhilaration surged through her. Only his energy could bring such exquisite pleasure and satiate the burning hunger of her soul.

Serenity turned to set a cup for Cyrus at the space beside her, but someone else was already seated there. The table had almost filled in except for two empty spots across from her.

Where did all they come from? And how did she not notice?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jealous rage percolated in Cyrus.

His mate sat whispering with the boy like lovers, exchanging coquettish glances and a modest touch that was not discreet enough to slip his notice. She might call him brother and claim they were only friends, but there was something more between them.

It had been painfully obvious since the very first day.

As he approached, she gazed up to greet him. Their eyes met and her smile faded as he shot his displeasure at her with the accuracy of a sharpened blade. She glanced at Adriel to say something to the boy.

Before a word could leave her lips, Cyrus threw his foot over the bench seat, shoved his leg in between them and forced Adriel’s body to the side as he sat.

If not for good balance, the boy would’ve hit the floor. Adriel staggered a moment then sat on the opposite side of the table across from Serenity.

“What’s for dinner?” Cyrus took his mate’s hand, interlaced his fingers with hers and kissed her wedding band.

“There’s more kelp,” she said.

If the sight of his
kabashem
getting cozy with the boy wasn’t enough to make him retch, more kelp surely would.

“There’s also fish, crab soup, bread and lots of veggies.”

“Isn’t there something around here I can kill to get some meat?”

Adriel laughed. The handsome sound far too sweet for a male grated. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly around Ximena. The animals on this island are her friends. She has a telepathic link with them so she won’t allow us to raise cattle for slaughter. She barely tolerates fishing.”

“Great.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “This is some kind of hippie commune without the drugs.”

“You haven’t had the honey wine yet. It actually made me tipsy,” she said.

“We have something much stronger,” Adriel said as he put food on his plate. The boy had soft, delicate hands that had never known hard work or wielded a sword. “There’s a tree that grows near the quarry. Smoke from it makes you very happy.”

“Like pot?” she asked.

Cyrus looked at her. “What would you know about pot?” His mate had never indulged in drugs.

“What’s pot?” Adriel asked. He poured wine in all three of their cups.

Smart boy. “Cannabis,” Cyrus said.

“I’ve seen T-shirts with the leaf on it. I wouldn’t know if it was similar, but this stuff makes you mellow and—” he shrugged, “—happy.”

“It works on Kindred?” There were no recreational drugs Cyrus knew of potent enough, but the boy nodded. “Our metabolism is too fast, drugs don’t have much effect, unless you’re a lightweight like my wife.”

He slipped a hand on the nape of her neck, thrust his tongue into her mouth and kissed her hard and long. Hard enough and long enough to take her breath away.

“Who needs drugs?” She curled a hand over his thigh.

Neith strolled to their table and hovered, looking over everything. “Serenity, tomorrow I want you to begin my portrait. I believe you’ve seen quite enough of my soul.”

Serenity stabbed the fish on her plate. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.”

With an air of imperial grace, Neith lifted her head. “As well you should be.”

“I’ll start the painting tomorrow.”

“Do not forget what I told you about the collective.”

“I won’t.”

As the lovely sage drifted to another table, Cyrus pushed Serenity’s hair back over her shoulder and caressed her cheek. “What about the collective?”

“Neith caught me siphoning. She wants me to plug-in fully and return what I take.”

He stopped eating. “You’re not getting enough from me?”

For the past week, she’d been sucking him dry. The drain had been gradual, but now whenever they connected she constantly pulled on his stream.

“You’ll always be enough.” She kissed him softly.

If not for the collective to sustain him… He shuddered to think the day might come when he couldn’t give his mate the energy she needed. “I’m not implying there’s anything wrong with connecting to the others.”

With the exception of Adriel, of course. They were already far too close for comfort. A connection of their energy streams he couldn’t abide.

Cyrus spooned fish onto his and Serenity’s plates. “I still want a steak.”

“I’m even a bit tired of fish,” Serenity said. “I could actually go for a cheeseburger with bacon.” She put her elbow on the table and looked up nostalgically. “The last time I had one was sixteen years ago. It was so good. The burger was juicy and the bacon crisp.”

This strange island had changed his mate and not for the better. Developing a weird attachment to Adriel that irked him beyond words, talking about drugs and craving red meat was so unlike his
kabashem
.

“Or how about a Nathan’s hot dog?” the boy chimed in, zeal returning to his speech.

She leaned forward toward the boy. “They make the best hot dogs. I’ve had many, mainly dirty dogs from vendors in Manhattan, but only one from Nathan’s. It had grilled onions, mustard and—”

“Ketchup,” the boy finished her sentence, delight brightening the too perfect features of his angelic face.

Rage simmered to a boil. Cyrus wanted to reach across the table and rip the boy’s windpipe from his throat. He roped in all emotion, pulling up the wall between him and Serenity. He wanted nothing to interfere with the little exchange until he could be sure of what it was between them nettling his core.

“Have you ever had a hot dog?” she asked Adriel.

A bizarre question. Everything he’d said made it sound as if he had, but the boy shook his head no.

Cyrus scrubbed a hand over his beard.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” His mate stroked his thigh, remembering his existence, and shot him a smile as if this intimate tête-a-tête was harmless.

“Yes, I do.” The boy’s gaze didn’t waver from his
kabashem
. A sickly sweet smile meant for a lover spread across the face Cyrus wanted to pulverize.

A secret slithered around them. Something had transpired in his absence.

Something she hid.

Cyrus slammed his fist to the table to break their focus before he broke the boy’s neck, but he’d used too much force.

The stone table snapped. Gasps echoed. Platters and plates crashed to the floor.

He stood. Fresh air. A walk. Anything to calm him. He headed outside.

The warm, gentle breeze did little to soothe him. He stormed past bushes through the garden, needing to move, needing to understand what was happening between his female and that insufferable—