She rested her heavy head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as that swelling warmth expanded inside her. “What’s happening to me?”
He buried his nose in her hair and whispered low in her ear, “Shh. Just let go. You’re mine now.”
Chapter 10
Paul felt like a god. They weren’t even completely united yet, and already she had changed his life. The pain was gone. Vanished. Strength surged through his body with every beat of his heart. Sure, he didn’t have as much blood as he was supposed to, but it hardly mattered. Andra was in his arms, and he felt invincible, like he could beat down an entire nest of Synestryn single handedly and not break a sweat.
Her body felt good against him and he didn’t want to set her down. Not ever. He could feel the sleek firmness of muscles in her back and thighs, while the gentle swell of her breasts was so soft and yielding against his chest. Her short hair tickled his nose, baby fine and feather soft. And she smelled so good.
A man could lose himself in a woman like her and never feel deprived, never want for anything.
He had to stake his claim and make it final. A little twinge of guilt made him pause, but he brushed it away as inconsequential. She had no idea what she was getting into, but he couldn’t let that stop him. Not anymore. She’d taken his luceria of her own free will, and he wasn’t going to let that miracle pass by. Not now, and probably not ever. He needed her too much. She had to stay with him. Be his. Belong to him and only him. He’d make sure she’d never regret it.
Something about that thought process was off, but he didn’t care. It was time.
Paul laid her down on the couch, knelt beside her, and pulled his shirt off over his head.
Andra smiled and leaned toward him, purring. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down across his lifemark. The branches swayed in reaction to her touch, and the single leaf he had left shivered. Her fingers were warm and curled against his flesh, kneading his muscles.
Paul’s body responded predictably to a gorgeous woman’s caress. His skin flushed hot and his dick hardened, making him wish he could lose the jeans, too. She was so pretty lying there, stroking him, staring at him as if he were the only man on the face of the planet. All he wanted to do was strip away her clothes and spread those long legs out so he could touch her, taste her, make her come just for him.
Oh, yeah. That was definitely a good plan.
But not until their ties were complete. Unbreakable. Not like what he’d had with Kate. Once Andra was his, he’d do all of that and more.
His sword was right at his side, ready and waiting as always. He gathered her hands and held them still so she wouldn’t accidentally get cut as he drew the blade. “My life for yours,” he told her as he sliced a thin cut over his heart, signifying his willingness to shed his blood for her. The promise filled him up, made him feel stronger, whole. He’d do anything to protect her, and because she had taken his luceria, he would live long enough to fulfill that purpose.
He pressed his finger against the cut and smudged a bit of blood against the luceria. It shrank to fit close to her skin, the colors once again swirling frantically. Blue. There was more blue now than any other color.
Disbelief rattled through him, freezing him in place and making him stare.
This was working. Andra really was his lady. Even seeing it, he still could hardly believe his good fortune. He reached out, intending to hug her to him in thanks, but the world dissolved, and she along with it.
His eyesight failed for a moment before returning again, but when it did, he was no longer in the Gerai house in Nebraska. He was in a small bedroom covered in rock-band posters and bits of girlish frill. A red feather boa hung over the dresser mirror, and a purple silk scarf had been tossed over the bedside lamp. A teenage girl was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, reading a magazine on the bed. Her bare legs were waving in the air behind her; her toenails were painted bubblegum pink, her feet twitching in time to music pounding out of the radio.
The girl looked up from her magazine like she’d heard a noise, and Paul could see now that it was a much younger version of Andra. She was maybe nineteen or twenty. She was thinner, less muscular, and so cute it made him grin.
This was a vision of her past—something important the luceria had chosen to show him. Paul scoured the scene, soaking it in.
She was beautiful, but in a childish sort of way. He preferred the way she looked now—confident and womanly and ready for whatever he had to give. Still, he would have given nearly anything to have known her then, when he would still have had time to be patient with her and ease her into his world carefully. Slowly.
But that wasn’t possible now. He needed her too much to slow down. The only thing he could do now was learn what he could about her to help make her transition as easy as possible.
A crash of breaking glass filled the air. A high-pitched scream followed, and then ended abruptly, as if cut off. Andra jumped from her bed and raced out of the room. Paul followed, unseen. Three steps down the hall, she came to a dead stop in front of a doorway. The door was open. Fresh blood coated the bright white paint and dripped off the bottom of the door, soaking into the carpet. She took a tentative step forward, and her bare foot sank into the wet carpet. Blood oozed between her toes.
She jerked her foot back and looked like she might throw up.
“Mom?” she whispered. “Oh, God.” Her hand reached out toward something on the floor just as another scream sounded from a room at the end of the hall.
Andra turned and rushed toward the scream.
Paul passed by the bloody door and saw the remains of Andra’s mother lying on the floor inside the bedroom. The Synestryn had left her head and taken the rest. The woman’s lifeless eyes stared up at him, her mouth frozen open in a silent scream. A heavy trail of blood marked where they’d dragged her body out the window. From the guttural sounds coming from the darkness outside, Paul was certain they were still out there, feeding on her corpse.
That had been Andra’s mother. Probably the most important person in her life. And now she was dead.
Andra opened the door at the end of the short hall. Another window had been broken here, too. Only this time, the sgath’s work was not yet done. One of them crawled through the opening, its eyes glowing bright green. Its black forked tongue flicked out ahead of it, and it let out a feral hiss.
Andra stood frozen in fear. He could see the fine trembling of her thin body, hear her breathing too fast and hard.
“Mom! Andra! Help!” shouted a child inside the room. “Tori, get back!”
The sgath lunged forward and grabbed a small girl around the waist. She couldn’t have been more than eight. She had the same dark hair and blue eyes that Andra did, only her hair curled in a wild mop. Her girly pink nightgown bunched up over the thing’s furry arm as she struggled to get free.
Another girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, grabbed the sgath’s paw in an effort to free her younger sister. The sgath twisted around oddly and raked its back claws across her thigh. She yelped and let go, falling back against the wall.
It was Nika. Paul was sure of it, only her hair was still dark and she was also years younger.
Nika pushed herself to her feet and looked at her wound in horror, then up again at her sister. “It’s going to take Tori away.”
Paul wasn’t sure how Nika knew that, but she seemed to be sure. He had no idea what the sgath’s plans for the child were, but it was clear it had some other purpose for her than food.
The smell of Nika’s blood was in the air now. Another sgath crawled in through the broken window.
Andra snapped out of her shock and looked around frantically for a weapon. She grabbed a lamp off the nearest nightstand. With an enraged bellow, she hurled it across the room and hit the sgath holding Tori.
Of course, the lamp did nothing to the sgath. It broke against the thing’s head and fell into a useless pile of pieces.
Blood pooled at Nika’s feet, dripping heavily from her wound. Already, the poison from the sgath’s claws was racing through her system, making her face flush with fever. Paul had no idea how she had survived that wound—sgath poison was usually fatal if not treated immediately—but he’d seen her future and knew that she had somehow pulled through.
The monster holding Tori turned to leave, and Andra jumped onto its back.
Paul screamed at her to stay away. It wasn’t safe. He reached for his sword, only to find he had none. Had no body here. His voice made no sound, either—he was only an observer and could do nothing to help. Everything that was going to happen already had, and he could change nothing.
Andra clung to the sgath’s back with her legs and dug her fingers into its eyes. It howled in pain and flung its head wildly to toss her off its back.
Andra held tight, clawing and digging. The sgath reared up and slammed her into a wall. Her head hit hard. Drywall crushed under the impact, and Andra let out a hoarse grunt of pain. Her grip loosened and the sgath moved away, letting her body slide to the floor in a limp heap.
Paul yelled at her to get up, but no sound came out of his mouth.
On the other side of the room, a sgath crouched at Nika’s feet. She was shaking, but unable to move. The sgath’s tongue flicked out, lapping up the blood as it seeped from her thigh. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and glassy, but her lips were moving and she stared at Tori, completely ignoring the sgath who fed from her.
“I won’t leave you,” she whispered to her sister, over and over. “I won’t leave you.”
Tori was screaming and fighting, but her small body was no match for the sgath. It carried her out the window and off into the night. The last thing Paul saw of her was her little arm reaching out toward her sisters for help.
Andra pushed herself to her feet. She could barely stand. Her body wobbled as she picked up a wooden desk chair and crossed to Nika. The sgath was too busy eating to notice her approach. She slammed the chair over the thing’s head.
It yelped and turned around to attack.
An armed man rushed into the room. He could have been a plainclothes police officer, or maybe just a neighbor with a gun. Whoever he was, he saw the thing and opened fire. A few bullets later, the sgath decided to leave, leaped out the window, and raced away.
Andra collapsed to her knees at the window. “Tori!” she shouted. “Tori!” Her scream turned into a sob and Paul could hear her heart breaking.
There was an odd blur of movement around Nika, but Paul didn’t care about that. The need to bear witness to Andra’s pain was too strong. She’d lost her family that night. Her mother and sister had died, and Nika had gone insane from the poison or trauma. No wonder Andra was so protective toward Nika. She was the only family Andra had left alive.
Paul mourned for her and wished again that he had found her earlier. In time to save her.
“I’ll help you keep Nika safe,” said Paul. This time he heard his words and knew he’d returned back to the present. “You won’t ever be alone.”
But Andra didn’t seem to hear him. She was lost inside her own vision—whatever the luceria had chosen for her to see.
Energy pulsed around Andra, vibrating the air. She could feel the power flowing through the necklace, but could not yet touch it. Something was missing, but she had no idea what.