Stone Destiny (Stone Passion #3) (39 page)

Apollo crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Armand critically. Pursing his lips, he said skeptically, “I don’t believe you’ll be able to handle it.”

Unfortunately, Apollo was right because Armand didn’t think he could handle it either. Ignoring the doubts that were beating against his head, his body, his soul, he bit out, “I’d go through Hell for her.”

“I almost believe you just might,” Apollo nodded thoughtfully. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at Armand with challenge, “What is your Hell, Armand?”

Armand was pretty sure acid just ate a hole through his gut. Grinding his teeth together, he bit out, “Seeing her with another man.”

A small, pitying smile curved Apollo’s lips and Armand swore he saw red. Roughly, he growled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“All right,” Apollo murmured, holding his hand out for his son to take. Reluctantly, Armand put his palm on Apollo’s, scalding his skin in the process because his father was a creature of the day and Armand was still a creature of the night. “Essentially you will be a shadow, my shadow. You’ll see what I saw, hear what I heard, et cetera. It will be Hell, Armand. Are you sure you truly want this?”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Armand growled, the heat from his father spreading up his arm, burning the nerve endings along its path. “Yes
, this is what I want.
Ferris
is what I want.”

“If at any time you want to change your mind all you have to do is say, ‘She’s yours, Apollo,’ or ‘I concede’ and it will be over,” Apollo said, giving him an out he knew he would never take. With a rueful chuckle, he added, “I hope you say the words.”

Armand’s face twisted into an expression of disgust at his father’s words. “Never, old man.”

Apollo heaved a lusty sigh, his shoulders slumped in mock defeat, “That’s what I figured, you stubborn gargoyle.”

Without another word, the air around them shifted and Armand found himself standing in an opulent bedroom, creams and gold the predominant colors. Gauzy fabric hung from the frame surrounding the bed, billowing outwards in the warm, gentle breeze. Glancing outside, he saw the fantastical world of the Fae and he knew that wherever he was it wasn’t earth. The colors were hazy, almost as they are in a dream, with tiny little pixies catching the sun, glinting like diamonds in the sky. He almost expected to see a bright and vivacious Ferris dancing in a field of wild flowers or painting one of her masterpieces.

What he didn’t expect to see was her looking so close to death. Her skin was nearly transparent, making her veins stick out in sharp contrast to her pale flesh. Her lips were white and drawn and her eyes were sunken, the dark color beneath looking like bruises. When she breathed her chest rattled, the sound terrifying for what it represented: Death.

“Ferris,” Armand whispered but it was Apollo’s voice. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, tell her he loved her, that he had always loved her, but the body he was in wasn’t his own. He had to remind himself that this was his father’s memory, this was Apollo’s memory. If he was silent he could hear his father’s thoughts, the helplessness he felt as he watched Ferris wither away.

She pried
her eyes open and offered a tremulous smile, but he could see the effort it took in the white lines bracketing her pale lips, the flare of her chapped nostrils. “You needn’t look at me like that, Marick. I’m at peace no matter what happens.”

“Please let me help you,” Armand begged, but it was Apollo’s voice. Seeing her suffer he knew that he would give anything to make her whole again. Hell, he would beg her to have sex with Apollo if it meant she no longer suffered.

Her chuckle turned into a groan as her muscles tightened unnaturally and her back bowed from the strain of her spasms. Gasping, she focused her eyes on his, the pupils dilated until the turquoise was nearly swallowed up in a sea of black. “No sex, Marick."

“I’m going to make it easier for you to accept me.”

She started rambling, lost in an old memory and Apollo winced in despair because it was obvious her mind was slipping away even faster than her body. Her mindless rants were killing him, making him feel utterly powerless and for a god it was an awful feeling. Swallowing his pride, he finally figured out a way to make her accept him and everything he was offering her. He could only pray she would be able to forgive him once it was all over, assuming she survived, of course.

It was nearly impossible to separate his thoughts from his father’s because they were so similar. When Apollo raised his head, Armand sucked in a mental breath as h
e caught his father’s reflection in the mirror. As he watched, the long, golden hair of Marick shortened and darkened to a midnight black. His face twisted until it resembled Armand’s, his jaw widening, his lips thinning slightly, her brows drawing together. The only difference was his father’s eyes were the same hazel he had in every incarnation.

“Ferris, my love,” Apollo crooned, his voice that of Armand’s. Her body twitched and he could see the effort she made to open her eyes, to stir herself from the stupor that was clouding her mind. Tenderly brushing his thumb over her lip, her cheek, he begged, “Open your eyes, love.”

After a concerted effort, she finally opened her eyes, the blue-green color looking bruised. She blinked a few times, the disbelief morphing into pure joy as she saw him. A brilliant smile curved her lips as she raised her shaky limbs up to embrace him. “Armand.”

Without hesitation,
Marick-as-Armand went into her embrace. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ignored the guilt and the remorse that flayed his flesh from his bones. Rubbing his hands up and down her skeletal back, he breathed into her ear, “I’m right here, love, I’m right here.”

“Armand,” she sobbed, her cool tears burning his skin as he held her to him. Her body trembled and he never wanted to let her go.

Armand wasn’t sure whose thoughts he was hearing.

“Let me make it better, love,” he crooned, pulling back to look down at her beloved face.

She studied him, resignation in her eyes, before she nodded once. He closed his eyes in relief as he bent his head and softly kissed her lips. At her whimper, he wanted to die. “Shh, love, I’ll be gentle.”

Slowly, he removed the damp gown from her body, silently hissing as he saw her wasted body, the slight swell of her abdomen. She watched him b
learily with tortured turquoise eyes and he held her stare, unwilling to let any of his concern show in his gaze. Letting his desire burn in his hazel eyes instead, Marick-as-Armand whispered, “You’re beautiful, Ferris. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

She tried to smile but her dry lips cracked and started to bleed. Red tried to stain her cheek but there wasn’t enough strength in her heart to get her blood flowing upwards. Ignoring her embarrassment, he bent his head and ran his tongue along her desert lips, moistening them until they were full and plump once again. At her sharp inhalation of breath, he looked at her with a smile, “My fluids will sustain you, my love.”

He quickly divested himself of his clothing, revealing Armand’s naked body to Ferris. Armand was surprised that he was able to feel the warm breeze that caressed his over-heated skin, the soft sheets that covered the bed. Softly, he ran his finger over the fragile skin of Ferris’s breast and he shuddered to discover that her flesh was paper thin and just as delicate. He was afraid that if Apollo were too rough her skin would tear.

Bending his head, he gently took her nipple into his mouth and bathed the nub with his tongue. He
felt it plump up beneath his ministrations and repeated the motion on the other breast. Her fingers curled into his hair and he ran his tongue between her breasts, tasting the cool skin of the woman he loved, of the woman he had killed.

“Armand,” she breathed, pleasure mixing with the pain that had been there for so long.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the reminder of who he was and who he wasn’t as he kissed her entire body, masking her sickness with the superficial appearance of glowing health. Even in sickness she still tasted sweeter than anything he had ever tasted before, a luscious berry that was almost ripe.

Armand could taste her on his tongue, the pure essence of Ferris, no longer buried beneath mortality. Losing himself in her, he almost forgot that it wasn’t real, that he was reliving a memory. Until he felt the hilt of a dagger in his hand and found himself settled between Ferris’s slender thighs, not quite joined.

His heart raced in his chest as he gingerly wrapped his fingers around Ferris’s delicate wrist and pried her hand open. Ignoring the curious eyes that watched him, he slid the tip of the dagger along her palm, her skin splitting easily apart and weeping blood. Taking a shuddering breath, he carved a line into his palm before quickly linking their hands together.

Swallowing, he forced himself to look at Ferris, to meet her eyes. The illusion of health was already starting to fade but she stared back unblinkingly, trustingly. As his blood mixed with hers, he pushed into her willing body, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she accepted him without hesitation.
“Armand.”

His heart was breaking, his heart was rejoicing.

Armand blinked a few times before realizing they were back on the roof. Looking at Apollo in stunned disbelief, he rasped, “She thought it was me?”

“She was dying and there was nothing I could
do for her.” Apollo shook his head in bewilderment, at a loss to explain his inability to save Ferris in his own form. “Fray was getting stronger but he was still so young and she was so… human and the only way to save her, to give her the strength to survive, was to be you. So, yes, she thought it was you.”

Armand squeezed his eyes shut at the hopeless sound of his father’s voice. He had been such an asshole to her and she didn’t deserve his wrath. When he found her, he was going to have to beg and plead for her forgiveness. He had never wanted her to suffer and yet because of him that is all she had done. As a child she had suffered the torment of cruel classmates and as an adult she had to suffer the cruelty of a stubborn, foolish gargoyle.

He had driven her into Apollo’s arms, forcing her to seek a solution to an impossible problem because he had been too cowardly to simply give her his nights and trust in Ferris. Instead, she had turned to a god and nearly died in the process.

His thoughts rose up in a cacophony of protests before they were abruptly cut off and he was left standing in shattered silence as he remembered what happened to Melanie and Jenna when they took the blood of Apollo. His brothers’ mates had just a
few drops of the potent blood mixture and it had nearly killed them. Ferris was practically bathing in god's blood. She also had two demigod children in her womb and with sudden insight he knew what happened to her.

Raising his head, he met Apollo’s eyes, seeing the knowledge in the hazel depths. Frozen with guilt and self-loathing, he roughly asked, “What aren’t you showing me?”

“I don’t think you need to see it.” Apollo looked at him with sympathy and Armand wanted to rage at the world for being so stupid and selfish. “It’s too much.”

“I’ve come this far,” Armand said thickly, swallowing against the dread that lodged in his throat. “I owe it to her to see the rest.”

War is Hell

Once again, Armand was in Apollo’s head, lying on the bed next to Ferris, her naked body pressed against his. Love swelled in his heart and he wanted to hold onto her forever. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered, “Are you feeling better?”