The Nightwind's Woman (13 page)

“The blessing of what?” she asked but he
didn’t want to answer. He was afraid if he did, it would frighten her.

“I cannot stay upon this plane nor can I
take you with me to mine but I will come as often as I can to be with you,” he
said. “When I am not with you, the Nightwind will be your sworn protector and—”
He had to force himself to say it. “Your lover so you will not know being alone
in this life.”

She blinked. “You would be all right with
that?” she asked, obviously stunned by his words. “To allow your wife to be
with another man?”

“I cannot ask you to remain celibate,” he
replied. “I will not be. It is not a natural state for man or woman. The
Nightwind has taken a blood oath to the women of your line and he believes you
belong entirely to him. That is not the case and it angers him but the Fates
made Their decision on our union long before he was a glint in his father’s
eye. He will be here with you when I cannot be. He will be your champion, your
guardian.”

“My guardian,” she repeated. “I don’t need
a guardian.” She lifted her chin. “You make him sound like a…a…warden.”

He grinned. “Trust me, dearling, I know all
there is to know of wardens and the Nightwind will never be that to you. Should
he presume to infringe upon your freedom, he will answer to me. Besides, you
will have powers of your own after the Joining.”

“I don’t know what that means and I don’t
think I want to,” she said. She eased her hand from his grip. “I’m not ready
for marriage and even if I were, I don’t know you and you aren’t…” She winced. “Human.”

“Human,” he repeated with a frown. “No, I’m
not human, but then neither is the incubus and you gave yourself to him without
so much as a single protest.”

“Yes, but I’ve known him for…” She stopped
as though realizing she was about to say something that wasn’t entirely true.
She shook her head. “All of this is beyond my ability to process.”

He watched her scoot away from him and
leave the bed on the opposite side. She turned, wrapped her arms around herself
and seemed to be trying to find the courage to ask him to leave.

“I came here to work,” she said.

“Aye, as did I,” he said. “But there is
something more important that needs to be done.”

The clock in the sitting room began to
chime the half-hour and he knew he had little time to do what had to be done.
An hour and a half wasn’t enough but he would not wait another day to seal them
together. He stood. He regretted there was no time to court her, to woo her, to
allow her to grow comfortable with him, but he would not lose her. She was his.

He held out his hand. “McKenzi, come to me,”
he bid her.

“This is moving too fast,” she said,
twisting her hands together. “I’m confused and I’m…I’m scared.”

“Not of me,” he said. He came around the
end of the bed. “There is no reason to fear me, dearling. I would rather pluck
out my heart than cause you a moment of hurt.”

“You’re asking me to take a leap of faith,”
she said. “I’m not sure I can.”

He lowered his hand, sensing she might
consider it a threat. He tried to reassure her.

“You are a beautiful woman and I want you.
I have pledged my life to you. What more can I do to convince you we belong
together?”

She was attracted to him. Deeply. He sensed
it. Knew it. He could smell her arousal. She was a sensual woman, not a prude,
a modern Terran female who knew her own mind and yet she hesitated. He saw the
disquiet in the way she was looking at him and yet her body was reacting strongly
to his.

It was well within the scope of his powers
to make her come to him. All he need do was command and she would obey but he
didn’t want to resort to that. He wanted her to come into his arms of her own
accord.

“Just lie with me,” he said. “Lie in my
arms and let me hold you. I’ll do nothing that you are not comfortable with me
doing.”

Still she hesitated, stayed where she was
with her fingers twisting and turning over one another. Her bottom lip was
tucked charmingly between her teeth and her breath was fast, shallow.

“Lie with me,” he asked again.

Her eyes darted to the bed. “On top of the
covers?” she asked.

He put his hand over his heart in pledge. “Atop
the covers.”

“No hanky-panky? No funny stuff?”

“Not unless it is what you want. I will be
on my very best behavior.”

She took a step closer to the bed but
stopped when he kicked off his loafers and lifted his leg to put his knee on
the mattress. She watched him sit down, put his back to the headboard and
stretch out his legs. He was careful to move slowly.

“Okay,” she said. He could hear her heart
racing but it was with a normal, natural beat. She sat down gingerly on the bed
and turned so she too could lean against the headboard. She folded her hands in
her lap—looking prim and proper and virginal.

He thought of the night he’d first lain
with Naamah. How he had felt like a sacrificial lamb being led to slaughter. Slowly
he reached over to take one of Kenzi’s hands, threaded his fingers through
hers.

“Let me tell you of my world,” he said softly
as the clock struck the quarter hour.

He told her of the ferocious hurricanes in
the South. The fiery deserts in the West. The fierce seashores of the East and
the frigid ice fields of the North. He told her of the cold, lightless
landscape of the Abyss. Of his mother, her sisters—omitting the fact that one
of them was at that very moment at Tearmann.

“What about where you live?” she asked.

“Prysson is an unspeakable place, dearling,”
he said, flexing his fingers upon hers. “It is a lonely and despairing place.
Once taken there, a prisoner never leaves. Some—like those I tracked here—have
managed to escape the holding cells but I always find them. I always bring them
back. I, and I alone, hold the keys to Prysson. I am the only one who may leave
that gods-awful place.”

“Aren’t you just as much condemned to be
there as are those who are incarcerated?”

He looked over at her. “I suppose I am,” he
replied. “I’ve never considered it in that light.”

“Is that why you said you would not take me
with you when you leave?”

“I would not have you there because it is a
terrible, violent place filled with those creatures so vile, so evil not even hell
will take them,” he answered.

“Are you in danger there?” she asked and
surprised him by leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I am immortal, dearling. I cannot be
killed or hurt. No, I am in no danger in Prysson.”

“I will worry just the same,” she said quietly.

That made his heart jerk in his chest. “I
will be fine. There is no need for you to worry.”

The clock chimed once. It was a quarter
’til and he flinched. There was precious little time left before the Midnight
Hour.

“I hate that clock,” she said. “I need to
turn it off. I’ll never be able to sleep with it chiming every fifteen minutes
and gonging every darn hour.”

“You want it off?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

He lifted his other hand, flicked his
wrist. “There. No more bonging or chiming.”

She craned her head to look up at him. “Just
like that you made it stop.”

“Just like that.” He reached over to cup
her chin. “Anything else you’d like me to do?” He wanted so desperately to kiss
her. He could not wait. He lowered his head to hers and took her lips gently.

Kenzi tensed as his mouth closed over hers
but the warmth of his lips, the taste of them was intoxicating. She’d always
liked a man who held his woman’s face when he kissed her and Kerreyder’s hand
had gone from cupping her chin to pressing softly against her cheek as he
worked his lips over hers. The moment his tongue slipped smoothly, unhurriedly
past her teeth she melted. His mouth was like wild honey. There was a faint
scent of cinnamon clinging to his body. It was a scent that aroused her. His
hand spiked outward into her hair until he was cupping the back of her neck.
She felt her womb clench as he moved over her, ran his arm under the small of
her back and eased her on the bed. His lower body pressed intimately against
hers, the hardness at the juncture of his thighs making her womb twist again.

“My pretty lady,” he whispered against her
lips then pulled away to kiss the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her
forehead. He stared down at her—his mouth mere inches from hers. “My pretty
mate.”

He was so handsome with his thick dark hair
and vivid blue eyes. The dimples in his cheeks made him look boyish but there
was nothing boyish in the way he was looking at her. That look made her ache
between her legs.

“I want you, McKenzi,” he said, his breath
hot across her mouth.

She stared up into that face that looked exactly
like a man whose movies she’d watched—all nine of them—and who she waited anxiously
to see each week on Cinemax. His azure gaze held her captive, his hard body was
pressed to hers. His warm hand was cupping her neck. A strong arm was locked
around her body. What wasn’t there to want? Declan Brady was the stuff of
millions of women’s erotic dreams and his doppelgänger was lying atop her with
a hard, thick cock paused for impalement.

“I want you too,” she told him.

She gasped for as soon as the words left
her mouth their clothing was gone! Vanished! His body was wedged between her
legs, the length of his cock pressed along her folds. He took her hands in his,
spread his fingers through hers and locked her hands to either side of her head
as he hungrily slanted his mouth over hers. The weight of him pressed her into
the bed and was so pleasurable she could barely draw breath. He was feeding
from her lips, his tongue pistoning in and out of her mouth but in such a way
it was mesmerizing and the feeling did strange things to her lower body. He
ground his hips against her, hiked up one knee to push her thighs farther
apart. His hard chest surged against her breasts—flattened them—and the contact
turned her nipples as hard as the sweet shaft gliding against her core.

As the clock struck the first note of
midnight, he slid effortlessly into her body. He jacked his other knee up until
her thighs were split wide, her hips partially raised from the mattress.
Instinct brought her legs up to latch around his hips as he began to move
inside her.

Second chime. He swiveled his hips.

Third chime. He pressed deep.

Fourth chime. He put his mouth to the side
of her neck.

Fifth chime. He eased back, almost all the
way out of her.

Sixth chime. He slammed forward, going
deeper.

Seventh chime. His hands tightened around
hers, sliding her arms higher along the mattress.

Eighth chime. He pulled back, shot forward
with a grunt.

Ninth chime. He ground hard against her as
he made quick thrusts into her cunt.

Tenth chime. His thrusts became wild, hard,
rapid. She began to feel the overpowering release building like wildfire inside
her.

Eleventh chime. His cock jerked inside her,
he stopped moving as he spilled deep into her body, her body impaled upon his.
The climax that took them both at the same time was so fierce lights burst
across her vision and she felt her body spiraling out of control. Her skin
itched with the release. The orgasm went on and on and…

The twelfth chime. Her entire being became
one fiery inferno of unadulterated lust. She snarled as his cock continued to
pour warm fluid with its every kick. He was snarling as he ground his hips brutally
against her as though in doing so he could drain every last ounce of cum from
his body.

At one tick past Midnight—the traditional
hour of Joining—McKenzi Delaney became the undisputed Blood-mate of Kerreyder
Abaddon. She would be his for all eternity. At one tick past that, her humanity
was taken away to be replaced by immortality.

She would live forever as Kerreyder’s
consort.

* * * * *

The Nightwind went still as death as what
had happened wove its way down to him from Kenzi’s room. Ungodly pain ripped
through his being and he threw his head back and howled in misery. Another male
was rutting with his female and the hopelessness, the despair was overwhelming.

Serves you right you warty newt
for not being male enough to protect your female from an
interloper
, Naamah sent to him in a goading taunt. Her wild laughter drove
through his mind like a steel spike.

Fury and outrage ripped through Randon
Kayle as his talons dragged viciously down the titanium wall of the cell.

They were assembled at the conference table
waiting for the archdemon to arrive. The Supervisor was at the head of the
table. He sat with his hands locked together on the table. To his right the
Prime Reaper Viraiden Cree reclined in his chair with his brawny arms folded
over his chest. Across from Cree was the Panthera Reaper Darkyn Sorn who was
fiddling with a vid-pad and ignoring everyone else. Two seats down from Cree
the Nightwind sat with his arms on the table—forehead resting on his crossed
hands. He had been silent since being let out of the cell no one knew he’d been
in until Kerreyder had sent word to free him.

“I don’t like waiting,” Cree grumbled.

“Neither do I but he asked that you be
here,” the Supervisor said. “Why he needs our help in tracking down and finding
his prey isn’t clear but he asked and we are obliged to obey.”

A derisive snort came from Sorn but he didn’t
look up from the vid-pad. His thumbs were moving at warp speed over the small
keyboard.

“What the fuck are you doing, Reaper?” Cree
demanded.

“Sexting,” Sorn mumbled. He glanced at the
Prime. “My woman.”

“You’ve a mate?” Cree asked with a raised
eyebrow.

“Aye, a beautiful woman.” He returned to
his typing.

“A witch,” Randon said without lifting his
head.

“A mate,” Cree said. “She has my sympathy.”

The Nightwind chuffed. “I had one too until
that bastard prick took her from me.”

“I did
not
take her from you,”
Kerreyder said from the doorway. “We are sharing her.”

It was Randon’s turn to snort but he still
didn’t take his head from the table. Sorn, however, looked up with avid
interest apparent in his green eyes then put his vid-pad aside.

“Sharing her?” Cree repeated. His eyes
narrowed. “And you are accepting of that, incubus?”

The Nightwind didn’t reply but everyone in
the room heard the low growl that came from his throat.

“I wouldn’t be,” Sorn stated emphatically.

“Nor would I,” Cree agreed.

“Neither he nor I have a choice in the
matter,” Kerreyder said as he took his seat. “He is blood sworn to her family
line and she is my Blood-mate. In the annals of time that has never happened
before. This is new territory for each of us.”

“She was mine long before you staked claim
to her,” Randon stated.

“He made her immortal,” the Supervisor
said. “That should be of some comfort to you, Randon.”

“Aye,” Kerreyder agreed. “She will not grow
old, wither and die before your eyes as the other women of her line have before
her. She will be with us for all eternity.”

“There is that too,” the Supervisor
acknowledged. “Does that not help ease you, Kayle?”

The Nightwind raised his head and turned to
give the Supervisor a steady look. “She was my salvation,” he said. “The one
who would have made me human again. Who could release me from my servitude to
Lilith. What good is humanity to me now? I cannot become human only to die and
lose her for all time.”

“Shit,” Cree said. “No wonder you’re
pissed.”

“You think?” Randon threw at him. He put
his head down on his hands again.

“You could always return to the Abyss,” the
archdemon said quietly.

“Fuck you,” the incubus snarled.

“Insult me one more time and that will be
the last time you do so. There is a limit to my patience,” Kerreyder said. “I’ll
send you back to the slime of the Abyss in the blink of an eye and you
will
lose her for all time!” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you clear on that, demon?”

Sorn looked up from the vid-pad, turned to
the Nightwind. “I’d say aye if I were you,” he said.

“Kayle?” the Supervisor pressed.

Every eye was locked on Randon Kayle,
awaiting his answer.

“Aye, I am clear on it,” the Nightwind
mumbled.

“You’ll not die,” the archdemon said. “You
have my word on it. You will share her with me for all time.”

Randon did not respond to Kerreyder’s
words.

Kerreyder stared in silence at Randon’s
averted face for a long time then gave his full attention to the Supervisor. “Let’s
talk about the prey I have come to this realm to retrieve for Yn Drogh Spyrryd.”

“Who are the two here?” the Supervisor
inquired.

“The
jikininki
and the
craquehhe.”

“What is the
craquehhe?”
Cree asked.
“I don’t think I’ve run across that one.”

“That’s that disgusting one with maggots in
his hair. I took him out about a year ago,” Sorn said with a shudder. “He’s a
revenant, one of the most powerful and vicious of the rotting corpse creatures
we have here.”

“Guess I missed making his acquaintance,”
Cree replied.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Sorn told him.

“And the three in the wild?” the Supervisor
queried.

“Two are brothers from the same litter of
adlets
,”
Kerreyder said. “They escaped together after trying to assassinate Yn Drogh
Spyrryd.”

“
Adlets
?” Cree asked of the
merciless werewolf-like creatures. He sat forward. “There are
adlets
here?”

“In the northwestern part of this country
and up into the Northlands,” Kerreyder said. “The ones I am seeking joined a
pack that has been on Terra for centuries now.”

The Prime Reaper turned to the Supervisor. “A
pack
of
adlets
? And I’m just now hearing of this?” he demanded.

“We knew of the pack and have it under
control,” the Supervisor said. “In the last fifty years they have been preying only
on wild animals in the Pacific northwest. We have been transporting the
carcasses of zoo animals and large roadkill to help when prey is scarce up
there in the winter months.”

“Aye, well you can bet since the brothers
have arrived, humans are on the pack’s menu once again,” Kerreyder stated.

“I should have been told,” Cree groused. “
Adlets
are filthy beasts.”

“And the third?” the Supervisor inquired, deliberately
looking away from Cree’s accusatory stare.

“She’s going to be the tricky one,”
Kerreyder said. “She’s a Saurian.”

“Shit,” Sorn said. “I hate those reptilian bitches
with their shiny scales and warty tongues.” He shuddered. “Once in a bar on
Storia I had one put her filthy hands on my…” He pursed his lips. “They have
two vaginas, by the way.”

“Could be why the males have two penises,”
the Supervisor suggested.

“And unlike the male of their species,
those bitches can shape shift,” Sorn complained. “They can mimic other species perfectly
to lure you, trap you, draw you in but as soon as they get you where they want
you, they shift back into their natural form and…” He shuddered again then actually
gagged at whatever memory had surfaced.

Cree pursed his lips and rolled his eyes at
Sorn. “What did she do?” he asked.

“She didn’t get a chance to…” Sorn realized
the Prime was speaking to Kerreyder and blushed. “Oh, you meant the bitch on
Treigeilys.” His blushed darkened. “Never mind.”

Cree sighed deeply, flicked his gaze from
Sorn to Kerreyder and repeated his question.

“Before or after she seduced Yn Drogh
Spyrryd?” Kerreyder queried.

“He must be hard up to lay with one of her
race,” the Supervisor said.

“If you looked like him, you would be too,”
Randon said.

“I can well imagine she is nothing to write
home about in the looks department,” Cree put forth.

“I’d rather fuck a warthog than a Saurian
bitch,” Randon told him. He sat up but slouched in his chair, picking at the
wooden arm.

“Actually Saurian women are incredible
lovers,” the archdemon said.

“You know this from experience, do you?”
Cree inquired.

“Mayhap,” Kerreyder said.

“So what did she do after he fucked her?”
Sorn asked.

“She was in on the assassination attempt.
She set the thing in motion by castrating Yn Drogh Spyrryd while he slept. Of
course his cock grew back as they knew it would but they thought the loss of
blood would weaken him, keep him incapacitated long enough for them to remove
his heart.”

“He doesn’t have one,” the Nightwind said
with a grunt.

“At any rate, he wants the three of them
and the two creatures housed here brought back for punishment,” the archdemon
stated. “The
jikininki
and the
craquehhe
were part of an earlier
attempt to overthrow Yn Drogh Spyrryd and somehow escaped their holding cell.
He thought while I was here after the other three I might as well take them off
your hands as well.”

“No loss for us on any of them,” Cree said.
“Especially not the
adlets
.”

“I can take down the
adlets
by
myself,” Kerreyder told him.

“I want to be there when you do,” the Prime
Reaper insisted. “Those things have no business on my world.”

“Thought you might,” Kerreyder agreed. “That
is why I asked Alexandru to have you present today.” He looked at Sorn then
Randon. “The Saurian is another matter. I will need help with her.”

“Why?” Cree asked. “You’re an archdemon, a
demigod. Why would you need their help? Your powers are a thousand times more
potent than are theirs.”

“Aye, but she knows me. She will sense me.
She won’t sense them,” Kerreyder said.

“You fucked her,” Sorn said.

Kerreyder shrugged but did not confess to
having done so.

“So when do we leave?” Cree inquired.

“You and I will leave at first light. Since
Sorn can’t shift to avian form he’ll need to be flown to Florida. The incubus
can either fly with him or use his own powers to get there,” Kerreyder replied.

“I’ll have the jet fueled and ready for
takeoff tomorrow morning,” the Supervisor said. “Will you be traveling with
Sorn, Kayle?”

“No,” Randon said with a growl. He swiveled
his head toward Kerreyder. “Where in Florida is she?”

“Milton.”

“Syntian Cree’s old stomping ground,” the
Supervisor said. “How appropriate Kayle.” He turned to the Prime Reaper. “You know
of him, of course. He was a Master Nightwind. The woman to whose family he was
blood-sworn sent him back to the Abyss.”

“I’m aware of who he is but he’s no kin to
me,” Cree stated. “At least not that I know of.”

“He isn’t,” the archdemon told him.

The Nightwind frowned then shot the
archdemon a hard look. “Is he still there? In the Abyss.”

“He is and will be for the foreseeable
future,” Kerreyder answered. “Along with myriad other nightbeasts like himself.”

Randon shuddered, obviously affected by the
thought of a fellow incubus trapped in the frigid, lightless depths of the vile
pit.

“Be a good little demon and you don’t have
to worry about returning there,” Kerreyder said.

“Don’t threaten me,” Randon said, standing
up so quickly he elevated the brows of the males around him.

“Not a threat,” Kerreyder said, eyebrows
coming down, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. “That was a promise.”

With a low curse, the Nightwind stalked to
the door, flung it open so hard it slammed against the wall to crack a lintel
and stormed from the room.

“Lilith put entirely too much testosterone
into those demons when she created them,” Kerreyder observed.

“You’re not helping matters by baiting him,”
Cree said. He got to his feet and cocked his head to indicate Sorn was to join
him. “You’ve taken his woman, lain with her, seeded her, made her immortal and
now you’re rubbing his nose in the shit you’ve piled around him. Why don’t you
lay off him?”

“Cree,” the Supervisor warned in a low,
quiet voice.

“That’s all right, Alexandru,” the
archdemon said, holding up a hand. “The Prime may speak his mind.” He smiled nastily.
“Say what you will, Reaper.”

With the exception of the bastard Nightwind
Danyon Hart who had vied with him for the hand of Viraiden Cree’s beloved Bronwyn,
no creature had ever annoyed him as greatly as did the archdemon. Not even the
Blackwind who had been sent to drag him back to Amazeen for execution. He found
the longer he was in Kerreyder’s presence, the more he disliked him.

“Sorn and Kayle are under my command,” he
told Kerreyder. “I want you to remember that.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I have their backs. You fuck with
either of them and you fuck with me.” The Prime Reaper shot the archdemon a
malevolent grin of his own. “Best that you keep that in mind. You may have the
Fallen in your corner but I have the Triune in mine. Her husband may be your
father but She has His ear.”

Kerreyder inclined his head. “Duly noted,
Reaper.”

* * * * *

The moment Randon left the conference room
he shifted into his feline form—dropping to all fours with a hiss. He didn’t
want to be waylaid, be talked to by anyone and in his black cat persona he could
pad quietly and nearly invisibly through the hallways and rooms without drawing
much notice. He was not the only black cat wandering the facility. Most were of
the natural world. A few were not. Unless one of the trusted creatures who were
allowed free access to the top three levels were milling about, no one would know
the Nightwind was on the prowl.

He wondered where Kenzi was at that moment.
Most likely she was still sleeping for the archdemon had rendered her immortal
the night before. No doubt he had placed her in a form of stasis so her body
would begin to assimilate its new nature. It was possible she wouldn’t be up
and about the entire day. He thought of going to her quarters but considering
the mood he was in, he thought it best to stay away. Not that he was angry with
her—he wasn’t—but his heart was aching, his male ego stripped down to the bare
wood.

Turning a corner, he saw two of the
trustees ambling toward him and mentally sighed. At the moment they saw him
they knew who and what he was and their steps faltered. He took that nanosecond
of a moment to probe their minds to see what they were about. Satisfied they
weren’t up to no good, he walked past them, ignoring the respectful greeting
they sent his way.