He shook back the feelings robbing him of breath and voice, and refocused on her sweet body. If this was the only way she would allow herself to accept him, then so be it. He was going to take every advantage of the intimacy. Not that he could have chosen otherwise.
The warrior allowed himself to be lost in the physicality of their rhythmic embrace within and around each other. He altered his thoughts to pure sexual need, eliminating her access to his yearning heart, allowing her to burrow her head beneath the sand for just a little while longer.
Her distracting fear evaporated quickly as he manipulated her body as skillfully as he manipulated his hidden thoughts. Soon he was lost in the sheer sensation of her as she embraced him more and more powerfully, the tension of her rising need strangling him blissfully. The fulfillment that came was bittersweet. She ignited with a sound of utter gratification, the clutch of her convulsing body dragging him under her bewitching spell moments later.
Elijah's eyes roamed over the etched stone on the ceiling above him, the pattern peeking through the streamers of sheer white silk woven in a loose X shape across the canopy.
Beside him, trapping his arm beneath the weight of her body, Siena lay deeply, peacefully asleep. He had used her to the utmost, exorcising his emotions with a physical passion that had exhausted her. But he was not even close to such a restful repose. While she lay in the only state where his thoughts would be safely guarded from her, he took them out to examine them.
He freed himself from her easily, at least in the physical sense, and sat up on the edge of the bed, letting the cold of the floor seep into his bare feet as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair and the rough growth of his seven-hours-old beard.
Seven hours. And in that time his entire world had been tumbled head over heels.
Elijah stood up carefully, moving slowly so the removal of his weight did not catch her subconscious attention. He scooped up his clothes and dressed quickly. He should not leave her. He should not allow her to wake without him beside her. But he needed this time to himself. He would possibly be back at her side before she even noticed, but he could not remain still a moment longer, watching her look so damned beautiful and content when he was in such turmoil.
He needed a wise ear because he knew he did not have the wisdom to hash this out on his own. He was too engaged, too close. And he was in far too much pain to see straight.
And for once, it was a pain he realized would not be as easy to survive as a physical wound might be.
No.
Dying was far less painful than a hurting heart.
CHAPTER 13
Gideon opened his eyes barely twenty minutes after he had drifted to sleep. The stained glass windows of the bedroom blocked a great deal of the dawn light, making it a shower of warm colors rather than intrusive white, and he adjusted to it in seconds.
He and Legna had decided to spend the day in his former residence. As opposed to their dwelling at Siena's court where people came and went constantly during times of holiday, here they were assured absolutely uninterrupted privacy during their Samhain night. They had not stayed long at the usual castle festivities with Noah and their other friends, the urgency of the night chasing them quickly to bed just as it had Jacob, Bella, and the others who were Imprinted and even those who were not.
Gideon had planned on sleeping as lengthily and as thoroughly as he had just made love to his wife, who lay in a deep sleep herself. Legna was sprawled over him, exactly as she always was, exactly in the way that made his heart pound with his deep-seated emotions for her.
But something had stirred him awake, and as he absently stroked her soft hair, he searched for some clarity about the disturbance that had done so.
The moment he realized who it was that approached his house, Gideon rolled Legna off his body quickly and un-gently. He ignored her sleepy protest, jerking the coverlet up over her as he grabbed for his robe.
The Ancient medic paused for a moment of uncharacteristic indecision. Then he reached down to Legna and closed his hand over her forehead. He sank into her body mentally, expending quick energy into her as he manipulated her in a way that no other could match. Once she was completely submerged from the world, her spirit, thoughts, and bio-signs repressed into nonexistence perceptually, he scooped her up into his arms and hauled her over to a swing-away bookshelf that concealed the room that had served as his meditation place for centuries. Placing her gently on the floor within the secret room, he didn't even spend time kissing her before parting from her, although he wanted to more than anything in that moment.
He exited the room and hurried out of the bedroom. He grabbed the banister, vaulting over it and dropping all three floors down the center of the spiral stairwell.
Gideon landed on his feet, remaining in a crouch as he tilted his head and altered his senses until they were at his most acute. He was out of time and he had not even had the chance to astral project to Noah and tell him where Legna was in case…
…just in case.
"I feel you waiting for me, medic."
The voice was artificially enhanced in volume within his thoughts, causing him remarkable pain. He realized then exactly how powerful his enemy had grown. A Demon had never dabbled in black arts outside of a pentagram before. Gideon would never have expected it to have this kind of effect, this extraordinary enhancement of power. But it was corruptive all the same, he could feel it, smell it, the dark stain of it spread deeply over Ruth's soul as she winked into existence with a flash of strange, dark light.
Gideon gained his full height, narrowing his eyes on the bold bitch who dared to threaten his home and his family. But he kept his temper, as always. He had not lived over a millennium without learning that losing your head in your emotions when confronted with a battle was a sure way of signing your own death certificate.
"Ruth," he greeted coldly. "Even you cannot be this mad."
Ruth did not seem to pay attention to him. She was tilting her head, looking up toward the ceiling with curiosity.
"Sleeping without your wife on Samhain?" She made a tsking sound. "Am I supposed to believe she is not here? You are right, I am not that mad."
The cool blond's eyes roamed thoughtfully over the Ancient, her gaze clearly avaricious. Her lush body curved, beckoning in a way that had once been quite alluring, and still might be had she not chosen the path she was now clinging to so greedily. But now she was as sinuous as a poisonous reptile, and clearly just as deadly as she was beautiful.
"I once had the most terrible crush on you," she confessed, her countenance amused. "You were so powerful. And handsome. Quite handsome." Ruth slid a hand over one smooth hip, her movement obvious and practiced. "Does your hidden wife know we were once together on Beltane?"
"That was three hundred years ago," Gideon said, his tone as neutral as ever. "And if I recall, women were somewhat scarce in our population at the time."
Ruth looked as if she had been slapped, and in effect she had been. But a second later her face flared with outraged color.
"How dare you!" she hissed. "You enjoyed it well enough at the time! Even you cannot deny that!"
Gideon let her indulge in her rage. He was intent on remaining focused on the power that was outside the walls of his home, gathering far too quickly even for his comfort and abilities. He had been right to conceal Legna from them. Ruth would never be able to figure out what he had done with his wife; she was not quite that powerful. But his mate was vulnerable, left upstairs in a state that simulated death in order to mask her presence. If the condition was not reversed within an hour, she and the baby would be in terrible danger. But in order to revive her from the stasis, he had to remain alive and must protect her by being victorious in this encounter.
The odds of this diminished with each new presence that he sensed. Gideon was strong, but not against the odds that were becoming all too probable with every passing minute. He should have known better. He should have never brought Legna into territory Ruth could discover with a little creative ease. But there would be time for self-recrimination later.
"Ruth, is there a purpose behind your visit besides a walk down memory lane over a quick tumble behind a random bush most of your lifetime ago?" He narrowed frigid silver eyes on her. "It must be, because you could not possibly be so stupid as to try and take on me."
"It is exactly what I intend to do. I am more powerful than even you can imagine, Gideon. And I am not alone."
"Forgive me for saying so, but it is not as if I could not smell your stench from a mile away. You are corrupted, Ruth. You must be aware that the stench of the others no longer affects you because of that."
Gideon was already mentally reaching toward the female Demon's body, her physiology, preparing to manipulate her into death the moment he could. But her chemistry was troubling, confusing. She was transforming on levels even she was unaware of. It made her unreadable, a puzzle that would take too much time for him to sort through.
Ruth gave him that faint smile again, the one that reached too far into her mad eyes. She was a powerful Mind Demon and no doubt was aware of his attempt, and his stalling out.
"You know, Gideon," she said softly, stepping so close to him he had to fight off the urge to back up from the corrupt smell of her. "I may have been a quick encounter for you, but I know she is not. She and your unborn baby. And I will find her, even if we have to burn the house to the ground to do it."
"You will have to go through me first, traitor."
"Exactly my plan," she mused.
"Then you better call in your little minions."
Gideon moved so quickly, he had his hand around her throat before she could even anticipate it in his thoughts. She was slammed back into the nearest wall a second later, Gideon using the pain and the surprise to keep her from concentrating on her abilities. But she was an Elder and far too empowered to be held at bay with disruptive tricks for long. So the medic did not waste time; he immediately cut off her air and the blood supply to her brain. She gagged, her eyes wide as she looked into the deadly threat in his eyes.
"Your problem," he murmured to her, almost in a lover's voice, "is that you waste time boasting and building yourself up with empty talk. You should have struck while you could."