Blood Destiny (37 page)

Jocelyn shuddered, studying his face for the slightest hint of an exaggeration. There was none. She didn't answer. What could have possibly been more painful than removing his manhood? More gruesome than ripping his heart out through his throat? She honestly didn't want to know. One thing was for certain, however—she might need to rethink her assessment of the Silivasi brothers as a whole: Marquis might not be the most dangerous, after all.

All at once Nathaniel relaxed again. He reached out for her hand and held it to his heart. "Now then, to answer your 348

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original question, my love. No, angel, you are not pregnant...yet."

Jocelyn let out a deep, animated sigh—unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. Her hand went absently to her belly and she covered it protectively. "It takes several tries?" she asked, blushing. Then all at once, a very real sense of dread began to overtake her. "Nathaniel, what if it doesn't happen?

What would happen to you if I can't become—"

"Shhh, angel of mine." Nathaniel pressed a finger to her mouth and placed his own hand over her abdomen. "There is little to fear: You are my true destiny. There is no question that it will happen. In a sense, it has already happened."

Jocelyn shook her head. "I don't understand."

Nathaniel smiled a mischievous-looking grin. "Now that we have already...come to know each other so intimately...it is simply a matter of speaking it into being. Anytime within the next seventy-two hours, I can command your body to conceive...and it will be so."

Jocelyn abruptly sat up, turned to face him squarely, and gulped—her eyes wide with surprise. "You have that kind of power...over me? Over my body? With just your words?" The thought was more than a little unsettling.

"Jocelyn," he admonished, "you have the power of life and death over me right now, too. We each have tremendous power over each other—it is as it should be."

Jocelyn slowly nodded and lay back down, her head finding a pillow in the comfortable nook between his chest and arm.

"I guess that makes sense." She looked up at him, her eyes soft with compassion, her heart emboldened with as much 349

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courage as she could muster. "Nathaniel, after what happened the other night...after what I did...walking away with Tristan..." She looked away, still feeling ashamed. "I really couldn't bear for something to happen to you—and especially not because of me and my fears. I might not understand exactly what you are, or how all of this came to be, but I know in my heart that it's right. And I know that I want to be with you. So I guess I'm ready. And honestly, the sooner the better."

Nathaniel stroked her cheek, his eyes wide with wonder.

"As much as I detest the Blood Curse, I always marvel at the wisdom of the ancients, how the souls of our destinies are so perfectly suited to our own. You are a miracle to me, Jocelyn Levi; you will never know just how much of a miracle...how long I have waited for you...how I have dreamed of you...imagined you...longed for you. And now that I have you here in my arms, you are more amazing to me than any dream could have ever been."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them they were absolutely beaming with affection. Yet, there was also something else hidden in their remarkable depths, something Jocelyn had never seen there before—

Fear.

"Nathaniel, what is it?"

He took both of her hands in his and brought them to his forehead. He bowed his head as if praying. When he opened his eyes, they were gravely serious. "You cannot conceive my child—or go through the pregnancy—as you are...as a human.

You have already seen the results of such a thing...."

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He nestled his chin in her hair. "I have to convert you first, my love, make you as I am." He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "As soon as the conversion is complete, I will command your conception."

Jocelyn shrugged warily. "Okay...so what's the problem?"

Nathaniel frowned. "The change is...very difficult...Jocelyn; it can be quite painful. I wish I could spare you from the worst of the transition, but I'm afraid it cannot be done.

Fortunately, it does not last that long."

"How long?" she asked, certain her fear was reflected in her eyes.

"It depends on the individual. For some, no more than forty-five minutes to an hour—for others, as long as five or six...but rarely more than that."

Jocelyn let out her breath, unaware she had been holding it until then. "I can do that, Nathaniel. I'm stronger than you think."

Nathaniel smiled then, brushing her cheek with a soft kiss.

"Of course you are, but I need you to be truly prepared. Truly ready. There is no stopping the transition once it begins...no going back. To do so would risk your life, and I will not do that...no matter what occurs."

Jocelyn winced as the weight of his words sank in. He wasn't kidding: This transition had to be bad—really, really bad. Because she had never seen anything give Nathaniel pause before.

"It's necessary, though, isn't it?" she asked. "For you to live? For us to be together?"

Nathaniel nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is."

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"Then I want to do it. And not just for you, Nathaniel. Not just to save your life from that horrible...curse. But because I really want to be with you." She looked down. "Sometimes you don't even know what's missing in your life...until you find it." Her voice was soft.

But powerful.

Nathaniel cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long, hard, and thoroughly. He sat up against the headboard of the bed and raised one knee, completely unashamed of the enormous, jutting erection standing up against his thigh like an iron statue in response to the kiss. "Why don't you go take a shower, then? Wash your hair, relax for a moment, have a cup of tea, and come back. When you return to me, I will have you sit in front of me, lean back into my arms where I can hold you...." He gently swept the pad of his finger down her neck, from just beneath the lobe of her ear to her collarbone. "Where I will have the easiest access to your—"

"I get the picture." Jocelyn pulled back but tried to smile.

Nathaniel reached forward to take her hand and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "When you are comfortable and safe in my arms, I will convert you. We will do it tonight then, yes?"

Jocelyn nodded—unconvincingly.

"Yes?" he repeated.

She looked into his dark, enchanting eyes, the love and kindness he felt toward her so brilliantly glowing in the centers. "Yes," she said with authority. She leaned over and kissed his beautiful lips. "Yes, Nathaniel."

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Nathaniel smiled, staring at her like she was an angel, something he could hardly comprehend. "Go then, my love.

And when you are ready, come back to me."

Jocelyn crawled slowly off the bed, retrieved her bathrobe from the floor, and began to make her way to the bathroom.

Her eyes took in her surroundings: the view from the glorious windows; the tall, rustic beams on the ceiling; the gorgeous, powerful being gazing at her from the bed. It was all hers now. This life. This home. The beauty all around her. A family.

He was hers now.

As she left the room, her eyes caught the glory of the luminous white moon shining down upon them from a tranquil night sky, and it occurred to her that it was the last sky she would ever see as a human being.

By this time tomorrow night, she would be like Nathaniel.

And there would be no turning back from him. Or her new life.

Vampires were immortal beings.

And even if they weren't, she knew one thing for certain: Nathaniel Silivasi—that gorgeous, powerful, primitive male, with all of his strength, tenderness, and cunning—would never...ever...let her go.

Good thing she didn't want him to.

Jocelyn sauntered into the bathroom, determined not to look back.

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Marquis was sitting on the back porch relaxing, simply taking in the soothing sounds of nature and the soft, rustling melody of water trickling in the shallow, meandering river behind his house, when he heard a frantic knock at his front door.

He sighed. What now?

The last several days had been nothing but action.

And anxiety.

And he just wanted to unwind in the serenity of his home.

Although he had to admit, at least one weight had been lifted from his shoulders; he had brushed Nathaniel's mind several times earlier that evening, a habit of checking in on his younger brothers that he hadn't been able to break in centuries—so he no longer tried, only to find that Nathaniel was planning on converting Jocelyn later that night.

Marquis didn't envy his little brother the trauma of conversion—or Jocelyn either for that matter. She'd had so much to absorb in such a little amount of time. But the woman was a female warrior as far as he was concerned, even if she did take occasional reckless chances without always thinking. Marquis chuckled, remembering the look on her face when he had told her he would turn her into a human puppet if he had to. It was certainly no laughing matter, but the woman was a spitfire.

Marquis sighed as he walked around the side deck toward the front door. He knew Nathaniel and Jocelyn would get 354

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through the conversion okay: His brother was too strong to accept any other outcome. And then...finally...Nathaniel would be one step away from freeing himself from that damnable blood curse—the blight of their kind that weighed like a heavy burden from the moment a male was born until the moment he finally secured his destiny. It was an ever present cloud that followed them like a shadow, blocking out the full warmth of...existence...the ability to fully embrace one's immortality up until that fateful moment finally came.

For better or for worse.

When Marquis rounded the corner, his eyes caught a wealth of medium-length honey-blond hair and the delicate frame of a woman, her back turned to his. She was weeping uncontrollably...utterly frantic, in fact...her slight fists pounding anxiously on the front door as she repeatedly called his name.

Marquis quickly scanned the area and scented the air. He closed his eyes, putting out feelers, trying to detect any hidden source of danger...to identify whatever it was that had so deeply shaken the woman at the front door.

"Joelle?"

"Marquis!" His housekeeper spun around and struggled for breath, frightened by his sudden appearance.

Marquis took a step back then, absolutely stunned by what he saw—his mind whirling around in a fog of confusion as his brain tried to process what his eyes were telling him. It was like trying to put together an obvious, yet elusive jigsaw puzzle: a riddle with such a horrifying conclusion that it hid in plain sight...taunting his sanity with the hideous truth—

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Because if what Marquis was seeing was true, then he was staring at the face of...death.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "What the—"

There were no words.

Joelle leaned over, clasping her hands protectively around her protruding stomach, her eyes wide with fright. "Help me,"

she uttered.

Joelle Parker looked no less than five months pregnant.

And Marquis could smell the fear emanating from her pores as the rapid process unfolded in her body. The exact phase of gestation—the precise stage of fetal development—was easy to pinpoint using the natural ability given to all males of his species: Joelle was twenty-four hours into a forty-eight hour cycle...a cycle that was going to end with the birth of those babies.

Marquis scanned the inside of her wrists, looking for something he knew wasn't there—the raised, tell-tale markings of a constellation—proof that somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, she had been revealed as the blood destiny of one of their males.

Proof that her babies were conceived—and consequently going to be born—naturally.

He knew better...even as he examined her arms.

The blood moon, heralding the revelation of a male's destiny, was a rare but unforgettable event. The brilliant celestial canopy was breathtaking. The sky was hypnotic. The Omen was unmistakable...impossible to ignore.

With the exception of the female who bore the actual markings, humans never saw the celestial revelations: Their 356

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eyesight was too limited to register the distant constellation, their telescopes unable to pick up a phenomenon meant solely for another species. But the sons of Jadon, even the sons of Jaegar—those who were forever lost and had no hope or destiny of their own—never missed it. It was a compulsion implanted by the Blood Curse as a safeguard for the males: No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were inexplicably drawn to the blood moon sky. It was how Marquis had known about Jocelyn the moment it happened.

Joelle staggered as her stomach rolled in visible waves, her body jolted by the rapidly progressing pregnancy, the evidence of two small beings developing at record speed inside of her womb.

Marquis glided smoothly to catch her. "Joelle—"

He was still at a loss for words.

She looked up into his anxious face, her soft blue eyes dilated with terror, her face soaked with tears from hours of crying. "I don't understand what's happening to me." Her words were a choked whimper. "I got pregnant...and I couldn't find you."

Marquis shook his head hoping to clear the cobwebs. "Tell me what happened." He made it a command.

Joelle's eyes opened wide. "What do you mean, what happened!" She sounded horrified. "What do you think happened? You were there! You got me pregnant." She looked down at her bulging belly as it continued to twist and turn beneath her. "And now...I think I'm dying."