Summon Lyght (6 page)

"
I do not know, and I cannot guarantee."

"
But you're willing to try?"

"
Do I have a choice?"

"
Of course you bloody have a choice. Humans possess free will. Yes. You have a choice."

"
I do?"

Lyght wanted to slap him.
"Are you a child? Don't make me repeat it. It's bad enough I can't force you."

Lesedi had the audacity to chuckle.

"Let me clarify. I can't use force where your will is concerned." Lyght raised one brow. "But I can bloody well punish sinners."

Understanding registered immediately in Lesedi
's suddenly guilty eyes. "That is manipulation. Coercion."

"
And black mail. And intimidation. Strong arming. Bullying. Call it whatever you like." Lyght smiled joyously. "That's the
way it is.
Read it and weep. Only don't ever weep in front of me."

A span of silence preceded Lesedi
's booming laughter. But what began rather normally slowly evolved into something nearing hysteria.

Lyght looked at the door and shushed him with a finger to his lips as the hand jive manual had instructed.

"Oh God, I cannot believe this is happening." The man jerked his hand up. "Rhetorically speaking, I mean." As though he didn't want any more proof carved into him.

Lyght leaned on the bed post when the man finally sobered.

"Tell me then," Lesedi said, solemnly. "Tell me exactly how crazy and deep this shit is that I seem to have stepped in."

Lyght chuckled and clapped him on the back, relieved, at least, for his cooperation.
"My brother, the shit is very deep and very crazy indeed, I'm afraid. And quite frightening, to boot."

Chapter Six

All the while Lyght dealt with his stubborn human, he
'd needed all his ability to focus on the task at hand and not Kassie in the next room. Her fears screamed in his spirit and the urge to crush them all had thoroughly saturated his being. And of course, now that he was available to tend to her, she had escaped into the bathroom.

Lyght sat on the couch next to the boy swathed in quilts against the slight chill. The lad was frighteningly thin, malnourished and weak, unable to maintain normal body heat. The quilts could make the difference between a speedy recovery and prolonged illness. Miya
's reasoning for the protection pleased Lyght, confirming her nurturing instincts.

He
'd placed a spirit barrier around the child, ensuring he slept like a newborn baby while Lyght saw to his…soon to be wife. The temptation to slip into the bathroom in spirit form quickly became the leading nominee for Battle of the Millennium. He had so many questions. He found he didn't do well with
waiting.
At least not in this specific situation. Ironic, since he'd existed for countless centuries. Even more so, given the enduring qualities of his gem.

The sudden increase of splashing water blared in his sensitive ears, bombarding him with vivid images, all along the lines of a brand new concept called sexually explicit. He
'd never once contemplated such things, and damn, it was like a tsunami wave of
discover it entirely and right now
.

Lyght paid attention to his body
's reaction again. There was a wall of some sort, it seemed, standing between his being and something he couldn't explain. It was what needed discovering, he realized. Her.
She
was the anomaly. Uncharted territory waiting for him to take possession, to explore and conquer.

Right up his alley.

The soft rustle of cotton on skin as she dried off sent his imagination into hyper drive. She winced in pain and his body tensed, followed by an explosion of reckless fury that heated his diamond mood to pitch black. A reminder of the unfinished business he had with the bastards who hurt her.

The relief to her injuries from the hot water quickly faded and she moved slowly toward the bathroom door and Lyght realized she hurt everywhere. Eavesdropping may not be polite, but he hardly gave a damn. He flew up from the couch the instant her hand touched the door knob to come out.

"Oh!" She jerked back when she found him leaning there.

"
I didn't mean to startle you." Lyght touched her cheek, giving her a dose of peace.

"
It's okay." But her heart rate shot up, along with her body temperature. Was she ill? In need of comfort? No doubt.

He stepped close and drew her into his arms, wrapping her in a soft, secure embrace.
"You're safe with me." He whispered the words into her ear.

Rather than abating, her symptoms continued to worsen.

He eased her back a bit to examine her more closely. The first glimpse at her eyes made him feel like an idiot. He was exciting her. Wow. Bloody hell. She was damn sensitive, wasn't she? It didn't seem so much physical arousal as it was emotional. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm just…" He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, the urge to revisit the silky texture unstoppable. "…wanting to help." And doing a lousy job.

She nodded and he felt her fighting to bring her emotions under control. He stepped back, giving her space, but she suddenly looked worried and unsure.

Bloody hell. He preferred the other reaction and pulled her back into his arms.

Her excitement returned, and he smiled, brushing his lips against her forehead. She gasped into his neck and his skin tingled. Perhaps it was from the guilt of enjoying her sweet distress. But it was better than her being afraid, or thinking of the shit she
'd gone through. The distraction was rather…awe-inspiring actually. 

She gave in to the need for comfort and relaxed into him, even put her arms around his waist. It wasn
't just comfort she wanted, but his comfort. Every one of her desires he sensed in that moment had his name branded on it. He stroked the back of her head, making a soft sound that seemed as if it should soothe her. 

Lyght froze as an avalanche of pent up horror barreled through her at breakneck speeds. Shit, shit. Oh shit. Everybody was asleep but what headed to the surface of this woman would wake the bloody dead.
 

Distract her!

He grasped her face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. The rush of madness inside her came to a screaming halt as she became concerned with only one thing: him. 

Lyght angled his head for the perfect mesh of their lips, trying to restrain his eagerness to experience every bit of her. His utter relief over the averted crisis very quickly evolved into something else. His plan to distract her proved as effective on him as on her.

Her softness became a point of extreme fascination, and her taste a puzzle he needed to work out. He stroked along her cheek with one finger, his emotions suspended in the unexpected rapture of this
kiss
. 

Her lips parted and she gasped right in his mouth, waking a strange hunger in him. Buried instinct roared to the surface ready to burst eagerly forth. Sudden desperation moved his hands to
her waist and pressed into the soft resilience there.

The slim part of him that retained some semblance of control over the intense need willed his mind not to dissolve the rough terrycloth that prevented him from discovering answers to questions. Were all her secrets as soft as her lips? He wagered yes, tormented with
proving it
. 

He pulled her to the line of his body, needing to feel her with every part of himself. His heart raced when he identified what threatened to ravage his willpower. The instinct… No, it was need. The need to…
bond.

Before he could celebrate his wisdom over it, her tongue entered his mouth and met his, sending a jolt of something through him, something overpowering and compelling. She was hungry, starving and desperate for something she seemed to think he should give.

More base instinct bubbled to the surface, rising from long-term storage in his subconscious over the countless millennia as an archangel. A warrior. He beheld in his mind and spirit the glowing white seal he'd willingly bound himself with, a creed forbidding him to these very senses. She stood at that forbidden chasm, calling forth the ancient ceremonial seal with her delicate moans. He watched in awe, as the holy binding on his soul shattered, and its infinite might crumbled beneath the power of her passionate kiss.

The instinct to hold that age-old tie together surfaced, only to be obliterated by her whimpers and the sudden influx of information surging through her. She needed him to…
taste her.

God, yes. Yes, taste her. The hunger was contagious and if Lyght didn
't fulfill her need, and his, immediately, there would be anarchy. He pushed her lips open to eagerly comply. The microscopic fragment of his mind still capable of function remained aware of her injuries and provided restraint.

All in the span of a millisecond, his being opened to her, drawing her spiritual essence deep, even as he savored the physical. She was succulent…sweet, just as he imagined she
'd be. He tasted more, stroking his tongue along and over hers, delicately exploring the various textures. The sounds of her response to him was another maddening delicacy altogether.

In answer to unspoken prompts, he skimmed his hands up along her curves in the barest whisper of a caress until he held her face again, firmer, his gentle kiss becoming bold and demanding, bringing her moans and whimpers to an erotic level, making him rabid with that strange hunger.

He began to devour with urgency, his fingers splaying wide on her face. Eternity spent kissing her that way would be only a drop in the bucket of his need. He had to have her. Now. All of her. God, yes, more of those sounds. He'd never heard anything like them, but instinct told him she should make those utterances each and every day. Many, many times. It was better than joy, it was…just better than anything he knew of. No doubt Eden had echoed similarly when the first couple came together because no other passion could possibly be more pure than what lay between Kassie and himself.

"
Lyght." Her gasp vibrated with desperation, proclaiming her need more clearly than any words possibly could. 

Bloody hell!
He was
branded.
That erotic tone combined with her sweet spirit burned right onto his soul, a new seal, making him swear to bring that song from her lips, from her being, over and over like a fervent prayer, yes, a chant, with her naked and protected beneath him.

The image of her sprawled before him, writhing in pleasure and crying out in that glory, shocked him back to reality. He broke the kiss, gasping on the insane magnitude of the
unfamiliar power that pulsated within him. It was almost as if…she were some unthinkable natural force and his entire being craved to plug into her, to experience some degree of that transcendence. Not even the risk of implosion, becoming a cloud of gaseous molecules, would deter him from tasting her passion to the fullest.

He stared at her, chest heaving for breath, mind racing in a billion directions to process everything, all to no avail. How could his Brothers have left him so woefully unprepared, so incompetent, for this moment? For surely what he felt, and what was happening to him, must be the most pivotal moment of his part of the mission. And he faced it with nothing more than the miniscule preparation offered by a few textbook-like treatises on human sexuality and human reproduction.

Kassie stood there, silky lips swollen and parted, glistening with his kiss, eyes closed and brows furrowed in aching ecstasy. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat while her breasts rose and fell in rhythm with her labored breath. 

All within the same millisecond, he took a cursory inventory of his own physical responses, from elevated pulse to increased temperature. Every muscle within his body was painfully tight, as if poised for urgent response to some threat, while his skin fairly throbbed in an echo of his pulse. His entire lower body felt taut and full, uncomfortable and restless, needing to move, all becoming more intense with each heartbeat and settling into a pulsating mass in the center of his body, threatening to erupt from his groin. The need to sink that part of himself into her held him suspended, powerless. Holy. Hell.

So this is what has my strongest
Brothers on their knees before their human women
. What a
fucking rush.
He could easily prostrate himself before Kassie for the opportunity to experience one millionth of the exhilaration rolling through his being at that moment.

Father help him.

****

Kassie paused to take in her surroundings. The little shoebox kitchen had no wall-mounted cabinetry. Instead, free standing utility cabinets, each designed for a specific kitchen use, served that duty. The white and red enamel baker
's cabinet held drawer bins for flour and sugar and other dry ingredients. A heavy wood bread board topped off the lower storage area, with a coffee grinder attached at one end and a built in salt cellar, egg tray, and waste basin sat at the other end.

Another enamel cabinet held the sink, with racks for dishes and tableware at the top, and more storage under. Next to the sink stood a massive 1950s-era gas cook stove with warming bins on top. Miya had maximized the timeless quality of the house and put her own stamp on it with artistic touches that fit perfectly. She
'd taken what most people would toss out and made it not only serviceable, but beautiful. Miya's quaint little house was too clean and too pure for the likes of her. Nothing could scrub away the hell Kassie had survived. She was certain of it.

But then, that…
oh God… angel—
Kassie could hardly bring herself to think the words, especially with how she
felt
about him—had touched her. The nightmare hadn't disappeared like it never happened, but it
had
become bearable. She no longer felt as if her soul had been shredded. She would live, and her body and spirit would mend.

But even in thanking him, she
'd done wrong. She couldn't simply fall to her knees and offer a prayer of gratitude. No. Not her. Instead, she'd
kissed
him.
Oh
God
she'd kissed him like the brazen whore she was. She should wish for the ground to open up and swallow her, or for God to strike her down. But oh
God
what a kiss! Try as she might, no matter how wrong it was, she couldn't resist hoping it would happen again.

Everything was happening so fast, like a dream. Nothing felt real since three rough-looking strangers shoved into her kitchen and forced her up against the counter at knifepoint while they demanded to see Carrington. The nightmare started in that heartbeat and didn
't end until Lyght scooped her and Tyler up in his arms in that damn rabbit hole those bastards had shoved them in. It could all very easily turn out to be a dream after all. And while part of her wished that were the case, most of her begged for it to be real. At the same time, terror rode her hard that only the nightmare portion would prove true, that Lyght was nothing more than a dream.