Protector of the Flame (37 page)

“You should go back to the room and rest. I’ll try to get you food from the kitchen.”

She stopped. “I feel great.” Unlike the other times she’d used her power to defend herself, she wasn’t exhausted or drained. “I could run a marathon. I’m not even hungry.”

His anxiety battered her, overwhelming her senses.

She didn’t want to fight or for him to worry. “I need to check on the baby to make sure she’s all right, then I’ll finish the rounds.”

“What baby?”

“Rose,” she said as if it should’ve been obvious.

“You’re in shock.”

Proud and exalted from her feat, definitely. In shock? Hardly, but she allowed Cyrus to take her to the main building.

He set her on a sofa in the lounge and sat across from her in a chair. “You shouldn’t take such chances. You could’ve been killed.” Pure reprimand deepened his voice.

“It had to be done. He tore through those sentinels as if they were ragdolls.”

“He could have torn through you. You’re too important to take such risks.”

She scoffed at his words. “There’s another Blessed couple. In a few years, they’ll be ready to take our place and bring the redeemer into the world.”

“And who will take your place at my side and in my heart?”

The sharpness of his tone cut deeper than the words, and she lowered her gaze. She’d given no thought to his feelings, but saving lives was bigger than them.

“If you don’t care enough about yourself to stay out of harm’s way, consider my welfare next time.”

“How many others should I have let die for one Kindred’s happiness?” What she did went beyond their happiness, but when she met his eyes, the dour look on his face stopped her heart.

“Is that what I’ve become to you, just another Kindred?”

“How dare you say that to me.” Shock and insult reverberated in every word.

She waited for him to sit beside her, to apologize, to say he understood the risk was necessary, but he did none of those things. He remained firmly planted in the chair, eyes heavy with sadness.

The tablet she’d forgotten by the orchard floated in the air to her. She turned to see Soren guiding it with a finger. “Are you well?”

She took the electronic tablet as it glided into her lap. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” Cyrus said.

“Honestly, I don’t have an appetite.”

Hunger rippled through her, but she didn’t crave food. Her energy stream clung to her mate, voracious tentacles sucking on him, drawing on his pool of vibrating energy. His eyes flickered from blue to black, face pallid and strained from the pull as she fed, but he didn’t complain.

She struggled to reel it in, but her stream lashed back, crying out for more.

Cyrus sank into the immense pull of his mate’s insatiable energy stream, allowing himself to be drained. His muscles screamed for release, his anima slowly fading as she feasted. Shards of pain radiated through him, splintering his body, shattering the equilibrium of his core. No matter how much he surrendered to it, every day she sucked more from him.

And when they made love it was ten times worse.

But he’d give anything she needed, bear any ache, indulge any appetite, so long as she was safe and happy.

“Neith will be most pleased to learn how you handled the crisis,” Soren said to Serenity, then turned to Cyrus. “The sentinel team leader would like you to report to him back at the orchard.”

Cyrus stood, grasping the back of the chair to steady his legs from the overwhelming draw on his energy stream. “Soren, if you’d ensure she gets food, I’ll report in.”

“I’ll see to it.” Soren headed off toward the kitchen.

Before she could protest, he knelt beside her. “I’ll feel better if you eat.”

“Then I’ll eat.”

Appeased with her response, he kissed her forehead and hurried away through the garden.

The connection between them should have broken, but her stream stretched beyond its usual limits, clinging, sucking, milking him until he was out of reach. The last rapacious strands snapped free and he drew in a satisfying breath of relief.

As much as he loved her and needed her and wanted her, he was growing equally grateful for any small respite away from her.

The misery of this new torment was a dagger in his heart. What was happening to them?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ambivalence in the others ran steadfast as the blue, cloudless sky over the island as she finished her rounds. Admiration mingled with fear in the eyes of those who dared look at her. Those who smiled in her direction did so from a distance. No one inquired about the incident at the orchard directly. Gossip had a way of growing wings and fluttering quickly about. It was the same at every station, nothing significant to report as they stared at her like she was a freak.

When she was done, she retreated to the library. The familiar faces of the historians, who knew her better than the others, brought immediate comfort. The vibrations of their collective stream opened to her, bidding her to connect and she did. They might not fully understand her power, but they didn’t view her as a monster.

No one rushed to her side or asked any questions. Not even Adriel.

She drifted into Neith’s office. Passing her fourth disastrous attempt at the portrait, she sat on the cushioned backless settee. She draped her arm over the curved side and rested her chin on her forearm.

The orange sun hunkered midway below the horizon, fading in the darkening sky.

Adriel came into the office and sat on the opposite end of the settee, leaning back against the arm, keeping plenty of space between them. They sat quietly, neither of them compelled to fill the silence.

She’d done a good thing today, but Cyrus was furious with her for it. He had plenty of complaints and kisses on the forehead. Gone was the affection he’d once shown as if he tired of her already.

“Do you think I was right to euthanize him?”

Adriel tossed a leg over the side, straddling the backless sofa and cupped his hands. “It’s not for me to judge your actions. When I think of what you did, I imagine myself in your place. I can only admire your strength and courage. I believe you were merciful.”

“Cyrus thinks I shouldn’t have taken such a risk.”

“He’s right. You have more than yourself to think of now.”

She sighed. “He said I should have considered him and his feelings if he lost me.”

Confusion swamped Adriel’s features. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Adriel, you’re dearer to me than I care to admit, but Cyrus comes before all others.”

He shook his head. “I know the affection you bear for me. I’d never regard myself so highly. You misunderstand me.”

Her energy stream pulled away from Adriel and reached out toward the open air outlet. She considered rising to greet Cyrus, but thought about her mother’s advice. Timing was essential. To move too quickly might give the mistaken appearance of guilt.

“Is Cyrus coming?” Adriel asked softly.

Staring at the sky, waiting for him to appear, she nodded.

Their pools of energy merged. Cyrus glided into the room, floating down to the floor, graceful and magnificent. Her beautiful archangel with silken wings the color of sun-soaked sand. He flapped those glorious wings in unnecessary flourish, strutting closer.

She met his gaze and went to him. Rising on her toes, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss, deep and long. He didn’t shrink back or divert his mouth to her forehead. Enclosing her in a tight embrace, he retracted his wings.

“Good evening, Cyrus,” Adriel said cordially.

“Adriel,” Cyrus said without looking at him.

Keeping her eyes locked on her
kabashem’s
, her arms around him, she said to Adriel, “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Certainly. I’ll see you two down at dinner.”

She stroked Cyrus’s face, the stubble rough under her fingers. “You were right about the food. I was famished by the time Soren came back with a sandwich and I ate every crumb.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Anxiety tightened his voice. “I just came to tell you I wanted to clean up before the evening meal. I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

“We could clean up together.” She stretched and rubbed noses with him.

He flashed a restrained smile.

“Or I could meet you in the dining hall,” she added.

As he hesitated, she sensed the seesaw of emotions rocking through him. He wanted to make love and to be alone. He wanted to hold her and to fly away, leaving her behind in the library.

His vacillation pierced to the marrow. She had no idea how to fix whatever was broken between them. The more she pushed and clung to him, the more he wanted to escape.

She went to draw back, but he held on to her. Combing her hair with his fingers, he pressed her face against his chest. She put her hands through the slits of his tunic and stroked his back. Funneling as much of her energy back into him as she could, she hoped it would tip the scale in her favor. But the greater her core sucked it back.

And the scale did tip, but against her.

“It’s been a few days since we’ve showered together,” she said lightly. Eleven days.

He walked with her out of the office. “I’d like that.”

As they passed the empty workstations, she suppressed the urge to cry. Despite his lies and the gauzy wall he pulled up to shield his feelings, they vibrated through clearly. For some reason, he forced himself to shower with her. He wore a fake smile as she washed his body. He held her on the way down to the dining hall, even though the tighter his embrace, the more he wanted to be away from her. She was losing him.

Neith sat alone at a table on the far side of the circle and called them over.

Making their way through the dining hall, warriors bowed their head to Serenity, a subtle gesture. Not as formal as what Sothis received, but notable.

Neith rose. Kissing her on both cheeks, she said, “In my absence, you watched over my flock and saved many lives. Be seated.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Cyrus turned to leave.

“Be seated,” Neith ordered. “I will find my evening meal more enjoyable if you remain. Your
kabashem
does not siphon from the collective in your presence.”

“I know.” He sat and poured wine.

“Not all leaders are capable of making clear, sound decisions in the midst of disaster,” Neith said. “Not even all doctors are capable of triage. It can be difficult, but it’s necessary. Sentimentality can also cloud judgment, as I believe happened in your case, Cyrus.”

Chewing slowly, Cyrus glared at Neith and then cut his eyes back to his plate.

“I am told you acted without fear or hesitation.” Neith stirred her stew.

Serenity’s spirits lifted a little, warmed by the praise.

Cyrus dropped a piece of bread to his plate. “She acted recklessly with no concern for her own safety.”

“Your wife has the heart of a lion. To ask her to act like a kitten would be unnatural, even perverse.”

“She is but a cub,” he scoffed.

Serenity slumped forward. “Did you just call me a child?”

“You’re young and Neith shouldn’t encourage your impulsiveness. The danger you were in today can’t be overlooked. Your power and control over it is still growing. If you had been seconds slower…” Emotion overwhelmed the timbre of his voice.

Caressing his cheek, she kissed his lips.

“The only way she’ll realize what she’s capable of is by following her instincts,” Neith said to Cyrus. “You cannot protect her from life. Time will bring wisdom and her brashness shall diminish.”

“She has to live long enough first. Does her life mean less because you have another Blessed couple under your roof?”

“Cyrus.” Serenity put her hand on his wrist to stop him from offending their hostess.

“I have jeopardized the lives of the other Blessed couple and every inhabitant by harboring you both here.” Neith’s tone was smooth and sharp as a blade. “If Sekhem learns Abbadon has the Book of Bylaws, my neutrality will mean nothing and my life’s work will come to an end. I am prepared to give all I have in my endeavor for redemption. Death stalks every Blessed couple. One day it will target Caelius and Nakia despite my best efforts unless you two prevail. You and your
kabashem
are the best chance. I would not risk everything if I didn’t believe it.”

Neith raised her cup. “We should rejoice. Serenity euthanized one in unspeakable pain. She spared many other lives. And she sits beside you alive and well.”

Serenity lifted her cup and looked at Cyrus.

He pushed his cup away, lips pressed tight as though he tasted something bitter.

All the warmth from her accomplishment and Neith’s praise dissipated.

“Soren wouldn’t tell me where you were today.” She set her cup down without drinking. “He said I should ask you.”

“I was off the island, attending to other business. One must be prepared for every contingency.”