CONCEPTION (The Others) (14 page)

He didn’t move. She opened her hand over his. His flesh was
cold, lifeless, without the vitality she was so used to feeling. She stepped
back, black horror devouring hope. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t
see any sign of breathing. That gorgeous back lay as still as the rest of him.
Crossing her hands over her chest, she gripped her upper arms. Goose bumps
chased over her skin, prickling the flesh under her palms, reminding her that
she was naked. Taking another step back and then another, morbidly fixated on
his ribs, she waited for them to expand with signs of life. She’d taken five
breaths and the man had yet to take one. Nausea welled as she fought back the
sickening surety that she’d been sleeping with a corpse. Horror blended with a
soul-deep pain. Deuce couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t. Digging her fingers
into her upper arms, she bit her lip. She needed him. Her baby needed him.

Oh God, her daughter.

Eden wiped the tears from her eyes and turned around. She
had to find her daughter. Yanking open the biggest drawer of the mahogany
dresser, she found a large selection of T-shirts inside. She grabbed a blue one
and yanked it on. As the hem fell over her thighs, she hauled open the next
drawer. Inside were sweats and shorts. Grabbing a pair of gray sweats, she just
as quickly discarded them as they were twice as tall as she needed. Tossing
them aside, along with the next three pairs, she settled on a well-worn pair of
athletic shorts. She dragged them on under the shirt, tugging the bunched-up
folds of the shirt out of the too loose waist.

Eden tightened the drawstring on the shorts before darting
to the door. Pressing against the wall, she took three deep breaths, tried to
contain the betraying rasp of her breathing, and cautiously opened the door a
crack. She peeked through, and immediately gasped. Staring back at her, one brow
arched in amused inquiry, was the man she’d seen in the kitchen a year ago. She
fumbled for his name. One look at the gun in his hand and she remembered. Dak
Lyons.

He pushed the door open with the barrel. She leapt to the
side, glancing at the bed. Deuce still hadn’t moved. Staying behind the door as
it opened, she glanced around hopelessly for a weapon. The swords beckoned in a
glint of light. The only ones she’d be able to reach were those on the far side
of the room above the small table and chairs. The door stopped moving halfway
open. Dak stepped around. His dark blond hair was longer now, but he still wore
that lethal arrogance with a natural manner that did nothing to settle her
nerves.

Eden glanced at the swords again. She’d never make it to them
in time. Clenching her hands, she cast another glance at the bed and blurted
out, “I didn’t kill him.”

Dak’s glance followed hers to the bed. A slight smile curved
his lips and his left eyebrow quirked up. “It would serve him right if you
did.”

She took a step back, not liking that gleam of amusement in
his eyes. “I woke up and he was like that.”

His right eyebrow rose to the height of his left. “You think
he’s dead?”

“He’s not breathing.”

“He’s sleeping.”

“People breathe when they sleep.”

“He isn’t people. He’s Chosen. All their functions slow to
near stop when they sleep.”

The relief that flooded through her took out her knees. Dak
caught her arm. “You’re still ill.”

She noted that he didn’t pose it as a question. “I’m fine.”

He steered her back toward the bed. “You need to rest.”

Eden planted her feet. She didn’t care if she was on her
last breath, she was not getting back into that bed with what, for all intents
and purposes, amounted to a corpse. “I’m fine. I want to see my daughter.”

Dak glanced at the bed. Then at her. “He won’t be happy to
wake and find you gone.”

She didn’t really care. Folding her arms across her chest,
she said, “I want to see my daughter.”

He released her arm and rested the muzzle of the gun in the
crook of his arm. “You’re feeling strong enough?”

She shrugged. “For now.”

“Bohdan will heal you.”

Eden wished she had his confidence. “In the interim, I’ll
just take advantage of the good moments as they come.”

Again he stared at her with those piercing amber eyes, then
he smiled and stepped back, motioning to the door with his free hand. “She’s
upstairs. Marlika is watching over her.”

Eden gave him as wide a berth as possible, pressing her back
to the door as she slid past into the hallway. He made her uncomfortable the
way he watched her with those predator’s eyes. She waited for him in the richly
carpeted hall, the electric sconces on the wall softening the dark wood to a
mellow glow. She didn’t know which way to go.

“The stairs are to your right.”

“Thank you.”

He watched her the whole way down the hall as she approached
the stairs. When her legs tired on the fourth step, his arm circled her waist,
forcing her to lean on his strength. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I would feel better if you waited
for Deuce or Bohdan.”

“What time is it?”

“Three o’clock.”

Eden forced herself up another step. “If my vampire lore is
correct, I’ve got another three hours before they’re awake.”

She felt rather than saw Dak nod.

Turning to meet his gaze dead-on, she winced at the pull in
her abdomen. Pain she hadn’t recognized before was slowly creeping into her
consciousness. “I am not waiting three hours to see my daughter.”

She hadn’t expected an argument, and didn’t get one, which
was good since she could be dead in three hours. Her strength wasn’t as
long-lived as she had hoped. The oversized neck of the too big T-shirt slid off
her shoulder. The shorts made a dive for the floor. Stopping suddenly, she
grabbed both. Dak didn’t comment, just waited. Eden straightened her clothes
and breathed a sigh of relief. Two more steps to go.

“Which way?” she asked as she got to the top of the stairs.

“First door on the left.”

She tried to slow her breathing as she approached the door,
but it was hard. Very, very hard. Up until this moment, she hadn’t allowed
herself to think of the baby as anything other than a package she had to
deliver, but now… Eden paused. The cool metal of the doorknob warmed to her
touch as she beat down the hope that popped up. Now was no different than
before. The only thing she was to her daughter was a threat. A blur of khaki
entered her peripheral vision—Dak’s arm. Three sharp raps on the door
punctuated the finality of the realization.

Taking a deep breath as the handle turned beneath her hand,
she closed her fingers into a fist to cover the tremor that radiated out from
the core of her uncertainty. The door swung in and a stunning woman with long,
flowing black hair and an air of contentment stood before her. In her arms she
held the baby, swaddled in a fluffy pink blanket. All that was visible of her
daughter was the wispy blonde of her hair. The woman smiled at her.

“You must be Eden. The Others welcome you.”

Was everyone here so formal? “Thank you. I came to see my
daughter.”

“As you can see, the little one has arisen.”

Where she came from babies just woke up. “Oh good.”

Dak performed the introductions. “This is Marlika, daughter
of Drakor.”

“Thank you for taking care of the baby.”

“You are
very fortunate to have a healthy child.” There was an agony of want in the
woman’s soft voice, putting a face to the desperation of a people battling
extinction. A beautiful, gentle face that reflected love for a child, and
welcome to a stranger. But no resentment. Maybe this part of her plan really
was going to work out.

“She’s been well?”

“Oh yes.” Marlika kissed the baby on the top of her head.
“She’s a very contented child.”

Eden
observed the care with which the other woman held her daughter. It was obvious
that the infant’s every need was being seen to with total devotion and joy.
“Good.”

“She’s ready to feed.” Marlika gently eased the baby away
from her chest. The reluctance in her offer to hand the little girl over
matched the hunger in Edie’s soul to hold her child, for once, just once,
without thinking of it as goodbye.

She didn’t take the child, but she did touch her cheek. It
was incredibly soft. “I’ve never fed her.”

Marlika
glanced up, her even features sharpening with her surprise. And maybe just a
touch of…accusation? “Never?”

“There was never an opportunity.” And she hadn’t dared risk
the bond.

“You
can feed her now,” Dak pointed out. Eden glanced at him. It was hardly the kind
of advice she’d expect from a man standing by the door, gun at the ready,
looking like he was expecting trouble any minute.

“I don’t know how.”

“I can show you,” Marlika offered with a generosity Eden
wouldn’t have shown if their positions had been reversed. She wouldn’t have
been able to share her dream that soon, that easily.

Eden
hesitated, wrestling with the temptation. She’d brought the baby here to find
the family, love and security she couldn’t offer her. Nothing in her plans had
changed. No matter what Deuce said, the simple truth was, until her grandfather
was dead, the baby was in danger. She could not let herself be seduced away
from her plans by maternal emotions. “That’s all right. I’ll just watch.”

Only
by the slightest rise of her eyebrows did Marlika betray her surprise. She
nodded. “As you wish.”

As she wished? Who said things like that outside of movies?
Marlika cuddled the baby against her, whispering words Edie couldn’t hear. The
infant sank into the warmth of the woman’s embrace with an acceptance that
spoke well for her future. Edie curled her nails into her palms and forced back
the possessive jealousy that demanded she rip the baby out of the woman’s arms.
The baby needed a home and safety. Someone who understood her and would
understand her coming needs. Marlika was giving her exactly that.

Marlika sat in a large rocking chair, her body curved in a
maternally protective way around the tiny child as she tapped the baby’s mouth
with the nipple. The blanket fell back and Eden was treated to a glimpse of the
infant’s profile. The softly rounded cheek, pale and perfect, the button
of a nose that looked too small to breathe through. She memorized each curve,
each flush, each pale tracery of vein. This was her daughter. Her flesh and
blood. They’d cut her from her body with the same dispassionate efficiency with
which they’d impregnated her, but it didn’t make any difference. This was her
daughter. And she was going to walk away and leave her to the mercy of fate and
the people she’d chosen for her. The howl of agony welled silently.

A snarl of rage erupted amidst the echoes, splintering her
calm into shards of primitive terror. Marlika’s head jerked up. Eden glanced at
Dak. “What in hell was that?”

He smiled and shrugged. “I told you Deuce wasn’t going to be
happy.”

She felt Deuce’s rage that she was gone, and his search. She
closed her mind, blocking him out. “You also told me he’d be a corpse for three
more hours.”

Again that aggravating shrug. “He would have been…before he
had a mate to keep track of.”

“I am not his mate.”

Dak stepped aside.

“You are.” Deuce materialized in the doorway. His thick,
long hair, free of its queue, fell over his shoulders, setting off the harsh
masculine beauty of his face and the broad set of those naked shoulders. He was
pale, very pale, but nothing, least of all paleness, could detract from the
perfection of his form. Dressed only in well-worn jeans that clung to his
narrow hips and muscular thighs with a lover’s touch, he was a sight to sap any
woman’s mouth dry.

Edie dragged her gaze off his naked torso with its bulging
pecs and washboard abs. She intended to stare at his knees, but on the way down
her gaze hung up on the way his pants clung to his groin. The telltale bulge
beneath his zipper had her womb clenching with hunger and her body flowering in
anticipation. God, she was pathetic! It took everything she had and a glance at
her daughter to remind her that he wasn’t for her.

“How did you find me so fast?”

Deuce nodded to Dak, and then took the five steps to reach
her. “Not everyone is as uncommunicative as you.”

Eden expected
him to stop beside her. Instead, he stepped behind her. His hands cupped her
abdomen over the baby flab of her stomach, directly above her incision. She
ducked but he merely used the twist of her body to tuck her buttocks against
his thighs. He looked at the other woman. “My thanks for caring for our
daughter.”

Edie caught her breath as his raw masculinity enveloped her,
holding her more firmly than his arm. His fingertips pressed into her
abdomen, massaging lightly, as if he sensed she ached there. Deuce’s head bent.
His hair brushed her cheek, and an intake of air swelled his chest against her
back, pressing her forward. A muscular arm came up, just under her breasts, and
pulled her back against him in a completion her body fully accepted.

“You
do not bleed, but you tire.”

Through the thinness of her shirt the heat from his skin
radiated. As if needing to get closer, her breasts swelled, her nipples peaked.
She closed her eyes against the sight and fought the strength of his magnetism.
“I’m fine.”

“You are not, yet.” His lips brushed the side of her neck
sending a shiver of pleasure straight to her pussy. “But you will be. I
promise.”

She leaned away from his lips. He took another of those deep
breaths. “Your scent is pleasing, Edie mine.”

He damn well better be talking about the soap she used.

His chuckle vibrated against her back. “I am not.”

Humiliation and outrage joined arousal. “Stay out of my
head.”

“You project—”

“When I’m upset,” she finished for him. She was really going
to have to work on that.