Protector of the Flame (35 page)

Sothis took her by the wrist and led her at a clipped pace in a different direction from where they entered the thicket. Once they hit a well-worn path, they resumed a normal stride.

They entered the garden, strolling toward the main building in silence.

Sothis kept her head high, scanning their surroundings with keen vigilance.

When they reached her dormitory sector, tendrils of her energy stream surged outward, struggling to connect to Cyrus. She stumbled from the force of it and her mother gave her a queer glance.

They stopped in front of her room and Sothis kissed her once on each cheek.

Serenity hugged her, holding her, waiting for a reciprocal embrace that didn’t come.

Her mother pressed her lips against Serenity’s ear and in the faintest voice said, “Your mate won’t share. Think long upon this link. Then imagine the hold it’ll have in three hundred years if you allow Adriel to stay at your side.” With a pat to her back, Sothis pulled away. “I don’t wish to see you neck high in a quagmire of your own making. Be well.”

Serenity mulled over her mother’s good advice. It would’ve been helpful, if she had the ability to focus on it, but she couldn’t envision tomorrow much less three hundred years down the road when she might not live long enough to see the New Year.

Everything was out of kilter in this world where Christmas and birthdays weren’t celebrated. The holiday had come and gone, like Thanksgiving, without her even realizing it.

Neith’s concern clearly rested with Abbadon and whether or not he could pull off his task while leaving the library’s neutrality intact. Until Abbadon succeeded and their lives spared, wasting time thinking of a future she might not ever have seemed pointless.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Cool air drifted in through the outlet of their bedroom, carrying the quiet sweetness of morning just before dawn. She loved this hour when the gossamer curtains rustled with the promise of a new day about to break, her
kabashem’s
warm body beside her.

Serenity pressed her breasts against his back and nibbled his ear. Stroking his hair, she slid her leg in between his and caressed his shoulders, working her way down to his buttocks.

He didn’t stir.

Out of the twenty-one different workstations, he had rotated through twelve. Every night after they made love, he fell into a deep slumber until the first light of day. The only thing that managed to rouse him sooner was the cunning of her libido. A few strokes of his cock, which never failed to respond, and within minutes the rest of him would follow suit. But earlier this week he had taken to sleeping on his stomach.

She coiled her fingers through his hair and tugged—not a peep from him. She shook him and tried to roll him over, but one could no more nudge a mountain than flip it.

Climbing out of bed, she pulled the sheet from his body. “Lights dim.” The room brightened enough for her to see well. Opening her drawing pad, she finished the sketch of him she started after he fell asleep. She used charcoal along the outline, smudging it to soften the curves of his buttocks and shoulders. She tore it from the pad and taped it to the wall alongside the others she’d drawn in the middle of her sleepless nights.

The idea came as a means of covering the damage to the wall and a way to occupy the nights as he slept more and her less. She hadn’t asked Neith about having the wall fixed out of fear Cyrus’s work details would be altered yet again to accommodate the request.

If she could ever finish Neith’s portrait, she’d be able to begin painting her sketches and add much needed color to the room.

In the bathroom, she gathered her things to shower. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and trailed the love bites on her neck and chest. It’d been over a month since the incident with Adriel. Cyrus hadn’t spoken of it since, yet every night he put fresh purple marks on her body like a dog pissing on a tree.

She headed for the showers. Midway down the corridor, she reached the threshold of her connection with Cyrus and braced for detachment. Her energy pool bubbled and gushed, insatiable tentacles of her stream thrashed, stretching for his. Dizzy from the swirl of energy in her head and core, she hurried away, running her hand along the wall to steady her until she could no longer feel him.

Her energy stream churned, slowly settling back into its usual flow. Once the dizziness faded, she resumed a normal pace.

The halls were empty, quiet at this hour. One or two showers ran in the open bay and she made her way outside. She’d never seen a sentinel while she showered, but she didn’t doubt at least one of them had a view of that part of the building.

After she dressed, she pulled her wet hair into a thick ponytail. As she walked around the railing under the dome where all the sectors converged, a figure at the end of sector four stood out against the brightening backdrop of the fresh air outlet.

It was a male leaving Neith’s room. He locked the door and began to leave the sector headed in her direction.

Serenity wrapped her towel around her neck, waiting for his face to come into the light. When he cleared the shadows of the hall and entered the burgeoning daylight from the dome, her jaw dropped to see Soren.

He approached her carrying an electronic tablet. “It’s good I’ve run into you,” he said, without any shame. “Neith will be away for the day and wants you to make the rounds. She’ll expect a full report at evening meal and has instructed you use her office as if it were your own.”

“Neith is putting me in charge?”

“For the day,” he clarified and handed her the tablet.

She paged through the screens, glancing at a list of the workstations with space to type in comments. “Where is she?”

“Attending to business elsewhere.”

Tightening her grip on the tablet, she said, “What were you doing in her room?”

“Ask Neith. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”

Her jaw tightened. “Does Mira know you visit Neith’s bedchamber?”

His expression remained light, unguarded. “My
kabashem
is aware of the full scope of my duties.”

Shaking her head, she walked away. Her opinion of Neith diminished at the thought of her being a dirty old woman seducing taken men, but it also satisfied her to know the ancient beauty had urges she was too weak to resist.

“Neith also wants an update on your mother’s team,” Soren said. She turned to face him. “They’ll finish up their pre-dawn training by the docks if you want to catch her this morning before they eat. Otherwise, I believe they’ll be down at the quarry.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed his head and went down to the first level.

She returned to her room and rested her head against the door, waiting for her stream to fully merge with Cyrus’s.

Inside, he sat on the bed, his shoulders slumped forward. Yawning, he rose and staggered toward the bathroom.

“How do you feel this morning?”

He grumbled something indiscernible and shut the door.

She stripped the sheets and put them along with their other dirty items in a pile at the foot of the bed.

He came out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of linen pants and carrying his toiletries. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s easier for the laundry detail if you put the sheets, clothes and towels in separate piles? It saves them the time of sorting it.”

Sighing, she separated the laundry into three piles. She glanced at him as he grabbed his towel. His weary face had bags under the eyes.

“I won’t have time to eat breakfast with you. I have to make the rounds today.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“You’ve been getting a solid ten hours of sleep every night.” She grabbed the tablet and followed him in the hall. “Are you still tired?”

With a yawn, he nodded.

“There’s been a change when we connect,” she broached. “Have you felt it?”

He gave a single, firm nod, but said nothing.

“When we separate it kind of hurts,” she said. He glanced down at her, not voicing the concern in his eyes. “It’s like my stream goes crazy yearning for yours to the point it makes me dizzy, even queasy sometimes. Is that what you feel when we part?”

He averted her gaze. “No.”

“What does it feel like for you when we separate?”

Cyrus put his arm around her shoulder. “Different.” He kissed the top of her head.

“What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with me?”

Stopping, he cupped her face in his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you or us.” Cyrus gave her a peck on the lips and a hug. “I’ll meet you in the room before dinner.”

“Okay.”

As he walked toward the showers, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, riding out the wave of nausea and ripples of dizziness until he was out of range.

She left the main building and went down to the pier.

More than a hundred white motorboats, three times the number from her first day, rocked on choppy waves, tied to the dock. The engineering detail was out early, servicing each one.

Serenity got a report from the team leader and returned to the hill above the dock.

Before she could see them, she heard them. Clanking swords echoed in the wind, the sound muddled by waves rolling into shore. Chanting rumbled in the distance. Eight shifted warriors flew high in the air, swooped down with swords and ascended again.

Her gaze gravitated to the slender one with her hair in a bun. She’d never seen her mother in shifted form. Shimmering midnight blue wings of an archangel, arresting and grand, Sothis soared through the air. Her mother cut down low on an angle like a falcon on prey.

The formation came into view. Four separate clusters of warriors ran, defending themselves against the two shifted warriors flying above each cluster. They moved with shocking swiftness, blocking attacks from the air. Sothis dipped, swung at Argyle’s head, slashed Elianus’s shoulder and kicked Talus in the back, propelling her forward. She wielded her double blade, disarming another, and commanded them to move faster.

As they made their way to the dock, Sothis ascended in the air and ordered them to stop. Gasping and wheezing, the soldiers looked grateful. Even the shifted warriors who descended along with her mother appeared relieved the training exercise ended.

They all gathered around her mother in a huddle. They nodded, and then broke away, grunting with satisfaction, patting one another on the back.

When the crowd dispersed, her mother shifted back, midnight blue draining, wings retracting until no longer visible. The tunics with slits were quite convenient. Hurrying up the hill, the warriors greeted Serenity with a nod or a smile. Talus dashed by, panting, sweat streaming in rivulets down her face.

“Why are they rushing?” Serenity asked her mother.

“They have thirty minutes to shower and eat before reporting to the quarry for the rest of training.” Sothis sheathed her sword and smoothed her hair back into place.

“Well, aren’t you the drill sergeant.”

Sothis almost smiled. They walked at a clipped pace back to the main building.

“How is training going? Neith wants a report at dinner.”

“Everyone is completely dedicated to my methods. The older ones are having a bit of difficulty adapting to the new techniques, but they’re making progress.”

“And Talus?”

“She doesn’t allow her handicap to cripple her mind. This training may serve her best of all.”

Serenity shot a hard glance. “Why do you insist on calling her handicapped?”

“She is,” Sothis said matter-of-factly. “I know you care for her as a sister, but the truth is she’s barely a level four training with battle-guard warriors. Her lack of wings is a handicap, but I’m teaching her that skill can compensate for lack of strength and wings.”

Her mother’s gaze fell to Serenity’s neck. Halting, Sothis moved the collar aside. “I can’t believe he’s still marking you. This is extreme. You haven’t let Adriel touch you since we last spoke?”

“Of course not.” Keeping her distance from him hadn’t been physically hard, locked up in Neith’s office during the day and Cyrus insisting she wait for him in their room until dinner. She had hoped the bond would weaken from their lack of proximity, but it only served to heighten her desire to be near him.

“I don’t understand it.” Sothis proceeded to walk. “Was there anything else? I need to shower.”

“No.” As her mother turned away, she reconsidered. “Actually, I had one question.” Sothis looked at her, waiting. “Why didn’t you and Daddy want me to have siblings?” The question seemed to confuse her mother as her brows drew together. “I distinctly remember you two getting upset with me whenever I asked for one, mainly you.”

Her mother’s eyes lightened. “Your powers manifested at an early age. You’d ask for something, usually toys and if we didn’t buy it for you, you’d project one to play with. When you started asking for a sibling, things became problematic. I’d be in line at the grocery store checking out and a second child would appear. Or we’d be out to dinner and the waiter would come back with our order, but there’d be two children instead of one. Your father found it amusing, but it brought us unnecessary attention.”