Feed the Fever
Chapter Forty-Two
Eridessa
I struggle and manage to slap Pollock as he yanks me up off the floor. Orán is behind me in a heartbeat and wraps his arms around me. One arm is caged to my side. His muscles are like steel bands, and his warmth sinks instantly into my flesh.
My other hand is in Pollock's grip, him having caught it before it struck true.
The energy in the room changes as Pollock stares knowingly down at me. His anger dissipated. A different intensity rides his features now, filling the space around us.
“It’s occurred to me, little mate, that from the very beginning, we never had a chance to impress you. The Order and your teachings made sure our first meeting started off on the wrong foot. Was that by design, you think? Theirs?”
His head cants to the side. “You were singled out as special, yes? Chosen?”
I thrash in Orán’s grip. He holds firm and remains silent.
“Before we even met, your mind was filled with vile proclamations about our purpose here and designs of murder.” Not a question. “You were entering my city to find a way to kill me and brimming with hate before you even gave me a chance to say hello.”
His chin lifts to gesture to the man over my shoulder. “Same for my brother. For all the Horsemen, I imagine. They brainwashed you, Eridessa. Turned you against us before you even laid eyes on us. Did you even stop to question why?”
“I’ve witnessed enough of your actions to determine my own mind,” I say through gritted teeth as I attempt to break free.
“Have you? I think not, because you don’t know the world as we do. You don’t know God as we do. You have taken the twisted and defiled word of man on God as truth, which is entirely different. You can spare us some time to share our knowledge with you, and you can then make your own assessment.”
“You’ll only sway me to your side and do the same.”
“I will not. If it’s a vow you need from me, then I’ll make it. I won’t influence your thoughts on this.”
“Neither will I,” Orán states. “And a vow, Eridessa, one made from one of our kind is unbreakable if made in blood.”
I calm down somewhat and take a moment to consider this.
My gaze searches Pollock’s. His light-blue eyes are intent on my face and unflinching.
When I turn my head to look up at Orán, our faces are only inches away from each other.
He raises one arm while keeping me caged to him with the other and palms my face. His thumb rubs over my cheekbone.
“I speak only the truth, Eliora. I don’t wish to harm you or twist your mind.
Since we met, my only wish is to protect you and find out what this connection is that we share.
I, too, was drawn to you without knowing why, and this sense of rightness settled in my bones the instant I saw you.
Every moment we’ve shared has only made it sing with that same feeling, stronger, undeniable, and extraordinary.
This is no mere coincidence. This is cosmic alchemy, destinies running parallel, the weaving of fates, and I will not deny it any longer, though you might try to. ”
He looks at Pollock with a fierce expression on his face. “Show her. Show her my thoughts from the beginning. From the first day until now.”
Pollock considered him for only a moment before nodding, and though I fight the invasion, he breaks through my mental walls and sends flashes of images and emotions into my mind.
It starts with me climbing out of a hidey-hole in the ground and spins in a collage reel of days where I was viewed from afar by the invisible presence who haunted my every step.
I see myself through Orán’s eyes, feel what he felt.
He is there through every dawning day and watching over me, guarding me throughout each night.
There’s a wealth of admiration and wonder, a desire to know me, be closer, to protect, and help me in any way he’s capable.
Then suddenly it shifts, and it’s not Orán’s eyes I’m seeing myself through anymore.
It’s Pollock’s. In his mind, I’m the phantom, the wraith or ghost, until I’m not, and he zeros in on my presence within the multitude gathered within the city.
Drawn again and again to me the moment he senses I’ve returned.
The same curiosity, wonder, and desire to search me out, to find me, and discover what this feeling is, he can’t shake, no matter how much he tries to do so.
Everything I do is looked at not with frustration and anger, but astonishment and marvel.
They sought me out, just as much if not more than I did them, not to harm, but to unravel this great mystery of why the connection we share is something that overrides all sense and distracts them from their purpose here.
Pollock gently withdraws.
I slump somewhat against Orán, who tightens his hold, but in a more loving way.
“Stop fighting us and think, Eridessa. Think for yourself now and try to understand how my knowing all they fed your mind might help me to understand why you seek only to end us, and what lies were told to meet out their own ends. Your Grand Minister Judiah was no mere human. He was not of this world, and I believe deep down you knew that. The things he did to you no man of God would have committed against you.”
My insides both shrivel and blossom with rage at his knowledge of such things, but I also can’t deny what I saw and what I feel in my bones to be true.
Haven’t I had these same thoughts? Lived with regrets for the choices I made that were once directed by Judiah’s holy hands?
Orán leans forward and places a soft kiss on my temple.
I begin to tremble in his arms. “Shh, shh, little one. It’s okay.
Force it from your thoughts for now. Our point is only that deep down you know what’s right and what’s wrong.
I’ve seen you find your own reason in things, and I trust once you hear what we have to share with you, you will see it all clearly in time. ”
His lips move down. They don’t stop until his mouth ghosts over my ear. “Before this night, you were coming to know me and trust me. I will do nothing to risk losing any more of your faith. I vow it.” He reaches out his hand and holds it toward Pollock.
“I want to make her that vow the old way.”
Pollock stares back at him for a long while before he nods, then leaves us momentarily to walk across the room and retrieve the dagger stuck in the cabinet. He yanks it out and comes back to us. He meets Orán's gaze, and Orán dips his chin. “Do it.”
Pollock slices a long line across his palm. He picks up my hand next, and I hiss as he does the same to me. Then he places my hand in Orán’s and joins them together, our bloody palms connected.
“I, Lorán Andres Valor McTierney, vow to you, love, that I—”
“Her name,” Pollock says decisively.
“Eridessa…” Orán pauses and stares down at me. “What’s your given name?”
A turbulent storm races inside my chest at his question as to what they are doing and saying.
I inhale and gather my courage and snatch up some of my backbone that has slipped. “Eridessa Wrathborn.”
That damn crooked smirk appears on Orán’s handsome face. “I, Lorán Andres Valor McTierney, vow to you, Eridessa Wrathborn...”
The way his voice, smooth and deep, silkened by his accent, slips around my name does something to me, and my tattoo yet again awakens.
“…that I will not cause you strife, commit any act to make you question my faith and fealty to you, or persuade your thoughts to my purpose here on this plane. Your thoughts and decisions are your own. I will be your shield, your companion, your teacher in this life”—he says that part with slight emphasis and a smirk—“and I will stand by your side in whatever future we face together.”
“Are…” My words tumble over themselves. “Are these vows…vows of protection…because it sounds like more than that?”
Orán doesn’t answer. He simply stares down at me, and the intensity of his feelings for me is both seen and felt.
Pollock slowly removes my hand from Orán’s, and my gaze draws up to his.
My hand is mostly healed, but he recuts it quickly.
I try to yank it from his grip, but he holds it steady.
He then takes his time making a deep slice across his own hand, deeper than he cut into Orán’s, and instead of placing my hand inside his, he interlaces our fingers together, then holds our hands up.
He steps closer, erasing the space between us, our joined hands resting against his chest and mine.
“I, Pollock Leon Valiant McTierney, vow to you, Eridessa Wrathborn.” His cultured accent is laced with promise, lust, and desire as he stares me down. He looks at his brother, and Orán shakes his head and chuckles. He repeats his vow, and Pollock recites the words after him.
“I vow, I will not cause you strife, commit any act to make you question my faith and fealty to you, or persuade your thoughts to my purpose here on this plane. Your thoughts and decisions are your own. I will be your teacher, as well as your lover, your sword and shield. From this day forward, your protector and your companion in this life, and stand by your side in whatever future we face together.”
The changes to the vow ring with finality as his fingers squeeze mine until both of our hands lose color and turn white with blood loss. “I vow to you as my mate that I will put the value of your life above my own and honor you above all else.”
“Is this really necessary?”
The instant answer comes from them both. It’s not an echo, almost as if together they carry one voice. “Yes.”
My lips part as I try to dispute this further, and Pollock takes full advantage. He cups his hand behind my neck and ignites the sensation of pleasure that proceeds to roll through me. While I gasp at the contact, his mouth takes mine.
There’s a parting of lips, a claiming in it, and a vow in and of itself. At the same time, he tunnels into my mind and shares all the emotions he’s feeling.