Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 31
Jax nods, a sleepy smile creeping onto his face as he sinks back into his mountain of pillows. "This war will go down in supernatural history, sweetheart. Do you really think I'd miss the opportunity to have my name written down, to be remembered and revered for centuries to come?"
I giggle all the way out the door and into Adrian’s awaiting arms.
Chapter 16
I wake alone.
The revelation spikes my pulse as I search the room for Adrian. When my search proves fruitless, I investigate the bathroom, but he’s nowhere to be found. Alone. My shoulders sink and my stomach feels hollow. Is this how Adrian felt the other day realizing I’d gone? Determination fills out the cavity his absence creates in my stomach as I leave our room in search of him.
The house is quiet as I tread its halls, though I doubt it will be for long. I make fast progress with the help of my wings, aiming for the kitchen. If Adrian is anywhere, it will be there.
Yet, I hesitate as I near the room Deval is in. Today is the third and final day of his transition. Is he still in there? Did he survive? I flutter inches above the floor, hand outstretched to touch the smooth surface of the door. My fingertips trail down to the doorknob.
The desire to see him is overwhelming, but my conscience warns against my curiosity. My hand falls to my side followed by a resigned sigh.
I move on, entering the double-hinge kitchen door with my chin tucked to my chest, but the abrupt silence of hushed voices draws my head up. For several seconds, the soft shush of the door as it passes back and forth against the frame is the only noise in the room. When it shuts, the quiet that follows is most strange for at the far end of the kitchen stands Xander and Adrian. The former claps Adrian's shoulder and steps forward.
"Luna, good morning. How did you sleep?" Xander asks.
My eyes dart between the two several times before I respond. "I slept fine."
"I'm glad." Xander's hand slaps down twice more on Adrian's shoulder. "I need to get to the office. Zoelle left earlier, but she wanted me to ask if you would help the coven today? They need some help with their garden stock."
I look to Adrian before I respond, expecting to find some hint of lingering discontent with my decision to stay and help, and his agreeance, but find nothing of the sort. A blush paints his face. His eyes are downcast.
"I would love to," I mumble, unable to tear my eyes away from this new Adrian. I press into our connection and notice immediately how much softer it is. As my eyes widen in shock, his dark eyes lift to mine. A shy smile breaks out on my face as we lock onto one another.
Xander coughs discreetly. He wears a sly smile as he strides to the door. "Great. Oh, and one more thing; Deval survived his transition."
I gasp, hands clamping over my mouth in my excitement. "He did?" I inquire, breaking my fingers apart.
Xander's smile widens, and happiness flares to life inside of me. "He's resting in one of the rooms upstairs now. Today will be difficult for him. Under different circumstances, a friendly face might make the transition easier for him. But, according to my sister, his control over his thirst will be tenuous. We're asking everyone to allow him the day, if not more, to get his bearings. We anticipate the other marks of this transformation will unsettle him."
My hands drop to my chest, cupping one another as my eyebrows hunch together. "You mean, the loss of Deval's wolf spirit?"
Xander stops a foot or so away from me, his smile departing for a more somber expression that reaches deep into his evergreen eyes. "Yes, that."
"Perhaps you could call Winter," I suggest as he walks past me. I turn in time to see Xander's furrowed brow line as he contemplates my suggestion. "She lost her spirit as well," I elaborate.
I cannot begin to understand the ripple of emotions that careen over Xander's face, only that the final look he spares me is one of gratitude. "I'll give her a call," he says and then leaves Adrian and me alone.
The moment the door closes behind Xander, a tension envelopes the kitchen. I lower my hands to my sides and approach Adrian with timid steps. A nervous flutter erupts in my stomach as he smiles at me.
"Good morning," he rumbles. His dark eyes drink me up, taking their time on their journey up. As our eyes lock once more, his smile lessens. "I couldn’t sleep,” he says, “and I didn’t wish to wake you."
There is no hiding my relief at the news.
"Would you like breakfast? Coffee? Tea? I'll fetch you whatever you like," Adrian asks, stepping forward. His voice belays his eagerness as well as his advance. What did Xander say to him?
"That would be lovely."
With my approval garnered, confidence seeps into his posture. Back straight, he strides to the dining table and pulls out a chair. I take the seat he offers, pleasantly surprised with his new attitude.
"What would you like to eat?"
I grab the bottom of my seat as he pushes me in. I let out a startled squeak when he stops, leaving me with an inch between myself and the edge of the table.
"Scrambled eggs?"
He nods and makes for the direction of the kitchen counter—then halts. Back tense, the stumps of his wings butt up against the back of his shirt. Captivated, I trace them with wide eyes. I thought he kept them bound.
Adrian spins to face me. His face is an unflattering red. "They are out of eggs."
I frown. "Toast?" Adrian's relief is palpable. He nods again, sucking in a fortifying breath as he does so, then freezes once more.
"They are out of toast," he says in a rush of breath. I pout as a small frown weighs down my face. "I can hunt you some small game?" he offers eagerly. "A rabbit or fox would surely satisfy you."
Adrian's color intensifies with each passing word. Where some might find humor in the situation, it seems Adrian's discomfort is contagious. My cheeks flame as my head swims in confusion, searching for a reason for Adrian's odd behavior.
When the realization hits me, I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. Adrian's embarrassment corrodes into anger.
"Adrian, do you know how to cook?" For a moment, he does nothing—says nothing. Then, at last, he nods. His chin juts out, and his eyes harden in a challenge.
I smile broadly and leverage my hand against the table to stand. "I can make—"
"No!" His abrupt retort comes out as an angry bark. I plop back into my seat, barely a centimeter risen. Adrian is immediately contrite.
"I will cook breakfast for you, to make amends for..." He trails off, the whole of his figure succumbing to the guilt he feels. Empathy ebbs from me to meet the tide of his remorse through our bond. "I wish for it to be everything, but I am wise enough to know that it cannot. I had hoped you would allow this gesture to be the start of my repentance."
I soften bit by bit as he makes his confession. "Thank you," I whisper, and clear my throat. "It’s a thoughtful gesture, and I too wish to apologize.” Adrian stares back at me quizzically. “For not taking your wants into account. I know how deeply you wish for us to return home."
The tension slowly leaves Adrian's body. “I accept your apology,” he says.
A small smile curves my lips. “I accept yours.”
A thrum of happiness trickles through me as our apologies take root. I never imagined our resolution to come so easily, but the fact that it does lifts my hopes to new heights.
"I wish to make your first meal of the day,” Adrian declares. His intent watch brings about a healthy flush to my face. "I will learn to scramble eggs and gather toast for you, but for now, they are not within my ability. What can I provide you with in their stead? Charms of luck?"
A happy chuckle bounds past my lips as I nod my head. Scanning the kitchen, I point to one of the cabinets. “They might be in there. The box is red with a rainbow on it—that’s it!” Adrian proudly presents the box to me. "We’ll need spoons, bowls, and milk too.”
Adrian opens every drawer and cabinet door until he finds each necessary item required for the meal. He presents each proudly to me and takes the seat next to me once they’re all compiled.
"Now what?" I smile, unused to being the knowledgeable one on this earthly plane.
"Pour the cereal into the bowl—oh, that's enough! That's enough!" The cereal practically overflows with the amount in it. "I'll pour the milk."
The crunchy, sweet oats don't stand a chance against our combined appetite. It isn't until we are near finished—Adrian slurping up the milky remainder—that I dare speak.
"What were you talking about with Xander?"
The bowl pauses halfway to his mouth. "Many things," Adrian concedes and finishes off the meal.
"Like what?"
I scoot back my chair and pull my feet up on my seat. I curl forward and hug my arms around my legs, chin coming to rest on my knees as I analyze Adrian's reaction. His pensive expression gives nothing away as he stares at the empty bowl.
"About you," he answers. "About this war. About his pack. He is not like Noah Alvah."
My gut tightens. "No, he isn't."
Adrian pushes away the empty bowl and looks at me. "This alpha and I, we do not agree on many things, but his words hold truth and value."
"Xander is a good man," I say. "What he wants most is to protect his family, and that in turn extends to his pack."
"He is an honorable man," Adrian agrees, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest. My gaze flits to the action, lingering over the solid pack of muscles flexing. I bite my tongue, lifting my violet eyes back to him and perusing the thick stubble climbing up his jaw. Adrian's eyes are bottomless pools of black by the time I reach them. "My mind remains unchanged, ov thera. I will not be a soldier in their war. However, I will help train these wolves and prepare them for what the Wselfwulfs have in store for them."
"You will?" The words are all but a gasp as I sit up straight, feet dropping to the floor. Adrian graces me with a smile, one that further takes my breath away.
"I will."
There is more to be said—more gratitude, more questions—but the words vanish as I drown in his eyes. A hum of contentment warms me from inside out. The lightning bolt engraved on my hip tingles. What is this strange magic between us? Tidings of happiness seek out my heart and rally my pulse to quicken.
This is new ground for us. Adrian smiles, closed-lipped, and knowing. I wish to return it, but the words I long to say stumble up my throat. I laugh instead, a silly smile taking up residence on my face.
"I—"
"Knock, knock, lovers," Ruby's voice calls over the opening of the kitchen door. The vampyré is not as put together as the previous day. Her hair is mussed, and purple half-moons hug her eyes. She looks like death newly risen. "I'll be taking you up on your blood donation now. It's been... quite the night."
"There's a change of plans," Adrian announces, not bothering to address my startled noise. What? "You will take my blood, vampyré. I do not plan on participating in this ridiculous war." Adrian drags his gaze purposefully to me then back to Ruby. "Luna does, and will need her full strength to help her friends and family."
"Whatever," she answers with a flippant twist of her hand. Adrian rises, and her eyes bleed red. "Meet me in the lounge."
Adrian extends a hand to me. I take it, stunned. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes," he counters, holding my gaze. "I did."
We clean up after ourselves before heading to the lounge. Ruby stands near one of the windows when we enter. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and her crimson eyes are set on some faraway point. The only sign of her anticipation is the adamant tap of a finger against the back of her hand.
She goes still when the door closes behind us, then swiftly gestures to an overstuffed leather chair. Her eyes never leave the scene outside.
"Sit there. Luna, you can sit on his lap if you wish."
"That won't make things harder?" I ask.
Adrian tugs me along after him to the chair, his body tense. Ruby turns to face us as I lower into his lap. The hunger in her expression calls to my baser instincts that yell at me to run.
"How does this work?" I ask, throat dry as Ruby prowls toward us. "You won't take too much blood from him, will you? How will you know when enough is enough?"
Ruby scoffs and kneels at the arm of the chair. With deft hands, she pushes up the sleeve of Adrian's shirt and flips his arm to show the soft underside that is his forearm. Her index finger glides like a snake over the faint impression of veins.
"I'm one hundred and twelve-years-old," she replies with feigned exasperation. "I know when to stop. It's all in the pulse. As far as what you can expect—" she spares us a wicked grin, eyes glittering "—only undeniable pleasure with a pinch of pain. Hold on tight, big boy."
She leaves no time for us to process her explanation. There is a brief flash of fangs, and then she dives at Adrian's wrist. He grunts and jerks, but her hands stay fastened upon his arm. Adrian sucks in a sharp breath, his midnight eyes dilating.
"Adrian?" My fingers skirt across his clenched jaw.
He turns his head away, his breath abruptly falling to heavy pants. I stare at Ruby in alarm, then back to Adrian. He peers back at me through half-lidded eyes. A different kind of hunger, no less jarring, there. Adrian's free arm coils around my middle—anchoring himself to me, or vice versa—and grinds his pelvis upward.
I blink owlishly back at him. "Adri—"
My lips are captured in a needy kiss as fingers dig into my hip. Adrian moans against my mouth, his tongue begging for entrance that I'm helpless to deny.
I peel away not long after to suck in a greedy breath, but my retreat does not deter my heart’s content. His hand prowls up my torso as his mouth ventures southbound over my jaw.
Whatever starved passion controls him is infectious. As his need builds, so does mine. His teeth nibble at my neck, aiming toward the sensitive spot behind my ear. Fingers brush the underside of my breast. I whimper at the well-coordinated attack, wiggling against his hold and staring up at the ceiling with coarse breathing.
"Mm, you taste divine," Ruby purrs.
My eyes widen comically as I hurl my gaze to the vampyré, forgetting her presence entirely with Adrian's fevered attention. Ruby drags a thumb across her bottom lip, catching the thick smear of blood that coats it. She licks it clean with another of her purrs, but I'm more captivated by the red that stains most of her chin.
Ruby sits back on her heels and digs a tissue out of her pocket. Rather than clean herself, she presses it to Adrian's bite mark. I shiver as Adrian's hot breath ghosts over my ear.
Ruby grins at my reaction and stands.
"Put pressure on that," she instructs, her skin sporting a healthy flush that makes her alive. "Don't worry, I'll close the door on my way out to give you two some privacy."
Her exit is done with her signature vampyric speed. Thank goodness, because I can't control the volume of my pleasure. I’m too ensnared by the sensation wrought by Adrian's lips and hands. Their constant pressure and teasing only drives my need higher and higher. I let loose a throaty cry as his teeth scrape down the length of my neck, and he palms my breast.
"Adrian." His name may as well be a prayer the way it rolls off my tongue.
"Turn around," he growls into my ear, hands finding their way to my waist. "Straddle me."
I gulp but do as I am told, albeit without much finesse. Adrian does not mind that I use my wings to navigate the simple venture, or how I slip back down upon him with my legs hugging his thighs.
"Kiss me," he demands in a low, husky voice. My eyes dart to his still bleeding wrist. "Kiss me," he repeats, his fingers stretching over my bottom before urging me against him. His erection strains against his pants and rubs against the building heat of my desire. Limbs shaking, I spread my legs until they butt against the chair's frame and sink against his tempting thrusts.
Soon, our embrace becomes much more. Our lips meet frantically as my sweater and bra are discarded. Adrian's hands roam the exposed expanse of my stomach and breasts with hot hands. I shudder as his blood coats my side.
"Shouldn't we—"
"No," he says firmly as he falls prey to the sight of my swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. Adrian cups the nape of my neck, the other clutches my hip—exactly where my lightning bolt mark resides. "My wound is all but healed. If you desire to alleviate my pain, then there is but one way." His hips rise, and my back bows. Without thought, I rub against him, yielding to the driving lust that floods our bond.
In seconds, we change positions again. Adrian rearranges us, bending me over the armrest and leaving my forearms to brace against the firm seat. It takes only a moment longer for my leggings to be shoved down and Adrian's zipper to sound. Hot and hard flesh teases my slit as he grips my waist from behind. A wanton moan drags from my lips. I am dizzy with desire and—
"Oh Goddess," I keen, head tossing back as my fingers try with little avail to grip the cushion for some kind of purchase.
"Don't move," Adrian commands, his length deep inside me.
I bite my tongue, inner walls clenching desperately around his thick cock. Despite his rough issued command, I wiggle and strain to shift my position to something—
"Don't."
He rocks into me with force I don't expect. Jaw dropping, my eyelashes flutter closed before I grit my teeth to the fire laying siege to my veins. I crane my neck around to peer at him. Adrian's face displays his rapture—cheeks flushed, lips parted, gaze unfocused—and when he spies my watchful gaze, a satisfied smile curves his lips.
Leaving one hand to rest on my lightning bolt, the other slides up my back to rest between the blades of my shoulders. I melt at the sensual path.
"Don't. Move."
I usher a nod, my head falling back forward when he grinds against me in small circles. It’s absolutely maddening. I whimper as my legs begin to tremble from the lurid position they hold—spread wide and welcoming.
"Adrian, please."
The plea works, or maybe Adrian can't stand this torture either. Either way, he keeps me bent and at his complete mercy. My nipples graze the worn leather seat again and again, as his thrusts push me to the tips of my toes. Ass pitched high in the air, I voice my approval and quake under his pistoning hips.
