Shadows of the Keeper (41 page)

“If you are finished?”

She spun around.  “I . . . I’m
beautiful
.”  Heat warmed her neck and stained her face.

Dezenial crossed the room, stopping
when his body sighed against hers.  It was a domination thing she’d come
to absolutely love.  And be a little turned on by.

“You have always been.”  He
caressed her face. “Thank you, Keer’dra.  I did not know if you would
demand freedom . . . scream . . . or accept . . .
me
.”

“Your eyes, you . . .” her lips
quivered, for, unashamedly, tears coursed down Dezenial’s dark face.  “You
truly thought I would bail?”

“I am Daemon.”  He
hesitated.  “Yes,” he finally said.  Her quizzical frown needed no
words.  “Still Lumynari, but . . . saving your life in the tunnels, I
chose my father’s path.  I’ve never allowed any to see me except under full
duress of attack.”  His voice lowered.  “Not even when you were
Zaiyne, did you know.”  He grinned, dropping his hands.  “I guess
you
bring out the worst in me.”

“What exactly is your father’s path
compared to the one your mother obviously laid out for you?”

His sheepish grin was contagious.

“Do I wanna know?”

“Now, instead of the
slayer
of mortals, I am their
protector
.”

Emily gawked.  With his index
finger, Dezenial lifted her chin until her mouth closed.

“I love you,” she whispered,
suddenly very serious.  Standing on tiptoe, she kissed the traces of his
tears.

“Jin kase bissa.”  His closed
fist touched where his heart lay, then rested upon hers.  Deeply, they
kissed, his hands caressing each side of her face.  “I love you,” he
translated, smiling tenderly, their foreheads resting together. 
“Regrettably, I must end this.  Come.  Your father has found
something he wishes you to view.”

“Wait, am I going to uh, am I going
to—“

“No,” laughing, he shook his
head.  “Do you
desire
to become Daemon?”

“You could let me finish a sentence
versus reading my mind.  As for that, it could have its advantages if I’m
ever in the modern’s realm.”

“Oh, how?”

“Greggs Bakery.  I could scare
the bejesus out of them, then scoop up all their Yum-Yums and sausage rolls,
and vanish.”

“Yum-Yums?  There’s really
such thing called—“

“Yes, and you won’t feel like such
a fool asking for them once you’ve tasted their sticky sweetness.  Get
that look off your face.  Not
all
sticky sweetness involves
your
anatomy, perv!”

He pulled her into the circle of
his arms, chuckling and kissing the top of her head. 

“Is your father still here?”

“No.  Rarely, does he leave
his domain.”

“I’m
special
.”

“Actually, to him, to us, yes,
Keer’dra, you are.  He has long relished the idea of having a daughter,
and in this lifetime of yours, he is especially fond of your orneriness.”

Dezenial was duly whacked on his
derriere.  He squeezed hers in return, then sobered.

“Should I die, he will send a
Daemon warrior to you.  The warriors are never pathetic humans, Keer’dra,
but always Hades’ elite.  None will serve you more loyally.  To those
serving me, you are now their queen.”

“
Die
?  How? 
Aren’t you a god?  Why would I want a warrior?  Hades is the god of
death, right?  Wait, wait,
wait
—
queen
?  As in,” she
curtsied. “Oh, hang on, you mean that madness Broc spoke of about everyone
waiting for my return.”  She waved her hand.  “Absurd.”

“You will not be able to survive in
the event I meet my demise, and yes, queen—most assuredly
not
of
Quemori.”

“You’ve got that right, I most
certainly will not survive if you . . .” she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Keer’dra, I am not speaking merely
of broken hearts likened to your romance novels.”

“You know about my books?”

“You’ve inherited your father’s
unnatural appetite for reading.  Your books are . . . bizarre.  I did
like the sex parts.  Until you fantasized that it was
you
as the
pirate’s captive.”

Her hands slapped against her
cheeks, a failed attempt to cover her blush.  “Peeping Tom.”

“You are forbidden to read those
books ever again.”

“Oh,
okay
.”

“I can see you are going to be a
difficult wife.”

“Residing with Hades, I would have
to be dead, right?”

“We are bonded. 
Soulmates.  I drank of your soul.  In the event that I die, and there
are a few ways it can happen, Emily, your grief will not ease with time. 
It will manifest until you . . . my father will come for you.  You will be
cherished and protected by the Daemon warrior he sends until such time as your
own journey commences.”

“Seems if I’m to be taken to Hades’
realm, I’d see you there, even if it’s your spirit.”  Her gaze
narrowed.  “There’s a whole lot more you aren’t telling me.”  She
waved her hand.  “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. You’re not going
to die and that’s that.”  She began to shake.  “I don’t want talk
about this.”  Her chin trembled.  “I don’t want—“

He swept her fiercely into his
arms, cocooning her in his strength.  “Shhh, Keer’dra.  I am here for
all time.”  His hand cupped her head, holding her against the beating of
his heart until its rhythm soothed her.  He would not share with her what
he and Inzyr had spoken of moments earlier.  His eyes squeezed shut,
blocking out images of his own death.  An impossibility, but visions his
father had broken sacred vows and shared with him.  Life contained various
roads.  Unfortunately, not even he would see the fork in said road, and
know which path lead away from his own downfall when such a time came. 

For the first time in ten thousand
years, Dezenial was shaken to his very core. 

Tolling bells reverberated. 
To Emily, it sounded like far off thunder, warning of a mighty storm heading
their way.  “Those don’t sound like the usual hourly bells.”

“Market opens.  Land-dwellers
have been traded with.  Merchants will now bring down their wares to offer
for purchase and bartering.”

“You mean, a flea market?”

“What is this flea—ah.  I
see.  In a sense, yes.”

“Can we go?”  She wasn’t
waiting for him, but was skipping out of her father’s chamber.  Inzyr
stood, his back to her, hands clasped behind him.  For the first time, the
black curtain was swept to one side of the massive loft.  Emily stole up
behind him.

Balkore, in its entirety, spread
out before them.

“Holy crapfest!”  She found
herself looking down over a massive ancient city.  A
bustling
city. 
Minus the cars.  A bevy of movement, and a buzz of life teamed hard packed
dirt roads, the occasional sparkle winking.  On one of their treks to the
dining hall, Inzyr had explained that most roads were inlaid with quartz. 
She couldn’t remember the reason for it now.  She only remembered being jittery
over the prospect of another fight being started for nothing more than her new
status as wife to their prince.  Private meals enabled the three of them to remain
casual, versus high tension of being on guard.  And, she pointed out to
Dezenial, if her father was all he said he was, shouldn’t dinner offer a
reprieve where he could let his hair down?  After several jokes at Inzyr’s
expense, and the vanity the assassin forever-possessed regarding his hair, Dezenial
had relented and allowed them to take their meals here, in her father’s
home.  In private.  Emily highly suspected the two males found it
pleasing, though they grumbled until she glared, then exaggerated good manners
and table conversation.  Her mouth quirked, amused with a side of them she knew
for certain no other had ever witnessed. 

Down below, there existed a large
central area where vendors were set up, brilliant colored tents behind them,
acting as a store of sorts.  It looked like bazaars from old Hollywood
movies.

“Do they see us up here?”

“No,” he stated, glowering at
something down below. 
This
was the Inzyr she’d first met,
not
her father.  She followed where his icy stare fixated.  Hundreds were
milling about.  Some paused, browsing, while others strode purposefully
down a street filled with nothing but carts boasting various foods.  She
wondered if this was how Zeus felt, looking down from Olympus.  So weaved
amongst one another, and most carrying market baskets, she had a difficult time
discerning who was slave and who shopped for themselves.

Regardless, they sure are lucky
to be down there.  I bet there’s wonderful stuff
.  “We have to
go.  I have to shop.  I bet there’s all
kinds
of—“

“No.”  Inzyr’s stare had yet
to waver.  He reminded Emily of a cat watching a foolish bird, the winged
creature too dumb to realize it hopped very close to its deadly enemy. 
If
his ass begins wriggling before he pounces
—

A snort behind her caused her to
giggle.

Inzyr’s glare sobered her.

Until he looked away. 

“Spies.”

Dezenial moved to stand beside the
assassin.  “Ah.  It would seem my mother desires to infuriate me
further.”

Emily peered down towards where he
was looking, but with so many people milling, no one person was
discernible.  Except the guards.  Escapees from a Hollywood horror
flick lurked, though their weaponry looked far more threatening than plastic
props.  “Why is your mother making you angry?”

“She sends one testing my authority
into my midst to garner information about you.”

Emily looked at a handful of males—

“No.  The female.  There.
Blue flowing gown, though if in my presence, she would not have that on—“

“
Excuse
me?”  Amber
eyes ignited.  “I’ll rip your face off, skin your hide, bronze and mount
your test—“

Laughing, Dezenial yanked her into
his embrace.  “Hellcat.  There are those having so disrespected my
position, daring to think I am beneath them because I am male, that I, in turn,
make them suffer what I’ve seen in their minds to be their ultimate humiliation. 
She is forbidden to be clothed in my presence because she is cruel, bitter and
it brings her the same amount of shame she has cast on others.”  He cupped
her chin, lifting her gaze.  “Trust me, none will ever know my touch, my
mouth, nor the taste of my flesh—“

“No sinking fangs either. 
They’re mine.  One bite of some bitch, no matter the body part, and I file
‘em down.”

Inzyr snorted.

Dezenial’s fangs began to
elongate.  “A Lumynari male becomes very enticed when his mate shows
possessiveness.”

“Thirsty?”

“Very.”

She arched her neck, and much
obliged, he lowered his mouth, his large hand on the small of her back pressing
her against him.  Hot air blew across her skin as he waited for her
heartbeat to increase, her artery throbbing its desire, calling to him.

She raked his chest, making him
holler out.  Ribbons of blood sprouted.  “I don’t like
waiting.”  Her lip actually curled.

The smell of his own blood now upon
her, he incensed.  Fisting her hair, forever the need to dominate, he sank
his fangs into her hot flesh, blood filling his mouth.  Her moan increased
his need to drink deeply.  Not wishing to weaken her, he eased his teeth
from her, lapping droplet of blood until the pinpricks closed.

“You will need to have her drink
from you.  You have put it off long enough.  She will dangerously
weaken if you do not.”  Inzyr continued his observation out the massive
window, but Emily caught the reflection of his eyes staring at her.

His expression was that of a
Lumynari who would brook no argument.

“I am
so
not biting into
him.”

“You would be wrong, vaifyr. 
Now, Lord Dezenial.  Too many times, you have tasted of her.  I do
not wish to lose her, having just regained her in my life where I no longer
have to observe merely from shadows.”

Before Emily could question or
argue, she was swept up into powerful arms and carried to her father’s
comfortable oversized down couch.  As if a princess, and Dezenial her
knight, she found herself delicately laid upon the suede couch. 

Immediately, she sat up.

“
You
said you weren’t a
vampire.” She jabbed his chest with her index finger as he leaned over her.
 “You said you were just, ‘
tasting your soul, Keer’dra’
.”

Inzyr laughed.

Dezenial scowled.  “I told
you, I don’t sound like that.”

“And you
swore
I would
not
have
carnal
desires . . . you two better stop laughing!  This is
not funny!”

“Ah, but it is.”  Her husband
dropped down, one leg tucked under him, the other positioned that his arm
draped across his knee oh-so-casual.

It pissed her off.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Since when do you announce your
intentions?”

“Since, when I’m finished, you will
have the insatiable need to bite me.”

“I think you’re just trying to be
kinky.”  She glanced her father.  “My dad will kick your ass.”

“Your dad,” Inzyr stated, “will
hold you down, slice Dezenial’s vein, and force feed you if you do not comply
with what your mate is about to do.”

“You sure you’re not my
step
dad?”

He turned and glanced at her. 
“Every vile thought in your head comes from my DNA.”

“How the hell do you know
about—“  Emily held up her hand.  “Never mind, forgot my dad’s a
professor.”

It was Dezenial’s turn to laugh.

“Shouldn’t we at least go in the
room?”

“No, Keer’dra, privacy is required,
but the hour grows dire that you must feed.  Your sire is ally, and fully
aware of what is about to happen.  He is the only, besides my mother, in
this domain, who knows of my true identity.”

She tapped his nose.  “You’re
out of luck.”

“Oh?” He rubbed his nose, never
having had someone take such liberties before.

“My canines aren’t razor sharp, so
my biting into you would be equivalent to gnawing.  Think it’ll be a tad
painful for you.”

“Once again, you skim
surfaces.  My blood now flows through you, Keer’dra.”

“Uh huh.”  Her tongue
exaggeratedly ran across the underside of her top teeth.  “Nope, nope, no
fangs here.  Sorry, no biting today.  Must be up on my rabies shot
after all.”

“Willing to make a wager?”

“What, that I’m not rabid? 
Sure. 
And
that I’m not thirsty—“

He lunged.  Savagely, he
kissed her, bruising her lips.  Pulling her tongue with his teeth,
releasing just as abruptly to nibble her lips, he pinned her arms to her sides,
forcing her into submission.  He nipped her neck, but when she
instinctively arched, he pulled away, his fangs descending.  Several
times, he licked back and forth across her artery, teasing her blood, boiling
it until it throbbed for release.  He attacked her mouth again, licking
across her lips until her own tongue clashed with his.

Intentionally, he nicked his bottom
lip on his very sharp canine.

Emily jerked, blood in her mouth
from his small cut.  “You’re hurt!”

He pulled back and arched his
brow.  And waited.  Eyes orbs of fire.  She licked her bottom
lip, not realizing more of his blood lay upon the soft flesh. 
Spicy.  Honey.  Tart.  She licked again.

Nothing.

She licked harder. 
Gone.  Her gaze snapped to his.  What had . . . he . . . her
attention dropped lower.  His neck.  Pulsating.  Just below his
ear.  She could hear pounding.  His heart?  Ever-so-slight, she leaned
closer.  A wild scent filled her.  Spice.  His.  Deeper,
she inhaled, not realizing she licked her bottom lip, unconsciously searching
for another taste of the nectar that had been there seconds earlier.  Her
eyes fiercely locked with his.  “That’s,” she eyed the throbbing pulse in
his neck again, “what I tasted?”

“Yes.”  His voice had become
husky.

She lunged from the couch, fisted
his hair, yanked his head back and glared down at him. 

“I will taste it again!” 
Incisors pulled and lengthened as her head plunged downward towards the sweetest—she
bit deeply.  And drank great mouthfuls of spicy, sweet nectar.  Her
insides swirled, blazed, until she crazed with the throws of climaxing. 
Not realizing her nails elongated as well, she skewered them into the dark
flesh of his back, a Lumynari holding captive her mate.

His denial of sexual release during
her first drink of him nearly crazed him.  His hands clasped her thighs
tighter, fighting to control the Daemon within roaring to mate.  Emily
would have imbibed until he was but dust, if he had not placed his fingers near
her teeth and began to ease her from his neck.  In time, she would learn
to control the feed.

When they had privacy, he would
show her just how powerful she was over him with her bite, her nails, and her
hot sex.

“Dizzy.”  She sagged against
him, deeply slumbering, her body adjusting to the change.

“At long last, the oath and bond
are complete,” Inzyr said softly.

Dezenial glanced his
assassin.  “You sound relieved.  Yes.  Your daughter wholly belongs
to me now.”

“There is no other I would ever
trust her care to.  She remains naïve about a great many things.”

“You would have this differ?”

“No.  Refreshing. 
Dangerous for her, but refreshing,” Inzyr conceded.  “You have been
gifted, Prince Dezenial, with the only thing that I hold in higher esteem than
you or I.”

The Dark Prince gave a deep nod,
yielding deference to the only being he’d ever considered friend and ally. 
“Know that I am humbled, honored, and fully aware that you quake in your boots,
panicked that I was going to leave this hellcat in your custody.”

They shared a knowing laugh.

Inzyr turned back to the window.  “The
priestess gazes up here longingly.  Which means, she knows I watch.”

“Do you desire . . . company?”

“I do believe much time has passed
since I’ve bothered.”

Dezenial’s head tilted slightly,
his eyes vacant for mere seconds.  Inzyr’s eyes glittered
mischievously.  “She has vanished.”

“She will do your bidding.”

“Ah, A female Lumynari not clawing,
fighting, and plotting to plunge her dagger in me as I mate her.  I think
I will actually enjoy this session.”

“I take your daughter to the
palace.  She will be weak for some time, and then—“

Both males grinned when tinkling
bells announced the Lumynari priestess now waited outside Inzyr’s door. “Your
mother will be furious when she discovers I have sampled one of her chosen.”

“My mother is about to sacrifice
the bitch for daring to assume she’s above adhering to the laws my mother
deigns her temple guardians follow.  You will not be her first lover.”

“Not virginal?”

“Do you desire another?”

“No.  I think this one will
serve perfectly the present mood I’m in, since she’s
experienced
.”

“I always wondered what men talk
about when they think they’re alone.  Uber gross.”

“You’re awake?”  Dezenial and
Inzyr exchanged looks, the assassin shrugging as if to say, nothing about his
daughter followed protocol.

“You should be clawing at me for—“

“Finish that sentence with my
father standing right there, and I’ll bleed you.” She squirmed from Dezenial’s
arms.  The bell sounded again.  Dezenial stood and glared at the
door, a quiet snarl emitting.  Emily felt his rage.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“No, daughter.  Some enjoy
that tasteless type of . . . sport.  I prefer someone who will not cower
when I take her, but won’t prefer violence either.  I am not the lover you
have experienced with your husband.  I do not desire cuddling, kissing,
and conversation.”