Chapter 26 #3
“Descendants of ancient blood are the offspring of the Archangels when they bred with other species,” Titus said. “Descendants of the Guardians themselves.”
“After eons, it’s diluted. It only shows up in traces now. That’s why it’s unlikely you’re directly related to Aurelius or Gleeda.”
Then his gaze sharpened. “What I can’t figure out is how a mortal has ancient blood. Mortals aren’t supposed to be able to conceive with angels. There shouldn’t have been any lineage in your realm after the realms were divided.”
I wasn’t technically an orphan, but I’d spent so much of my life in the care of strangers that I felt like one. The idea of lineage—of knowing —lit a hunger in me. All I have ever wanted was a family.
“Is there any way we could find out?” I asked. “Do you know someone who’s an expert in this?”
After a moment, his mouth curved into a filthy grin.
“I do,” he said. “A historian in ancient lineage. An old friend… so to speak. Aurelius, Cercies, and I have fond memories with her.”
I didn’t miss the word her, or the implication but jealousy wasn’t the priority right now. If someone had answers, I wanted them.
“Great. Can we visit her on the way back?”
“Yeah, no,” he said. “Three problems. One, she won’t be happy to see me. Two, we need to get these crystals back as soon as possible—the food supply is top priority. And three, she’s a Water Fae in the Kingdom of Seas, and we’re nearly at war with them. It’s not happening.”
“Oh, come on. Can’t you glamour us again to look like Water Fae? How far is it?” I begged.
“It would add a few hours to our already delayed arrival,” he said. “I have to get these crystals back.”
He studied my disappointed face.
“We don’t have the same ability to preserve information like you do in this realm,” I said quietly. “If I don’t find out here, I’ll probably never know who, or what I am.”
His expression softened. His eyes sparkled with mischief. He leaned closer and placed his hand on my thigh.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he murmured. “I’ll mind-link Aurelius to be here in the morning to pick up the crystals, and I’ll take you to her— if you do something for me.”
His voice was sweet seduction. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“I’m listening,” I said, breathy.
“I want you to take off the shirt,” he said, gaze dragging over me, “and let me see that lingerie with my own eyes. Then come to my tent and let me do whatever I want with you.”
His perfect face, hard body, and the bulge beneath his towel beckoned.
Was I going to let myself go all the way with him?
I’d tried to stay devoted to Jared, but the truth was brutal—there were no guarantees. No guarantee I’d survive getting the dagger. No guarantee I’d ever be sent back. No guarantee he hadn’t already moved on.
And I had died.
Whatever vows I’d made belonged to a version of me who no longer existed. The woman who lay in a hospital bed and promised forever had flatlined.
This was a different world. I was a different woman. I was choosing as the woman I had become.
Giving in to Titus didn’t feel like betrayal. It felt like claiming something that was already mine.
And he was so damn seductive.
For once, I wasn’t going to choose fear. I was going to choose myself.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I said, holding out my hand.
He reached to shake it—then grabbed and yanked me onto his lap.
I straddled him, wrapping my legs around him. I lifted the shirt over my head and dropped it aside.
His eyes roamed the red lace hugging my body. A wanton smile tugged his lips.
His hands cupped my breasts firmly, and I moaned at the pressure. He was so warm it made me gasp.
Titus touching me felt like finally scratching an itch—sweet relief straight to my core.
His mouth crashed to my neck. He licked and sucked and kissed his way between my breasts. His breath made my nipples tingle.
I felt him harden beneath me.
“Do you think you’re ready to take me?” he growled.
“Because I don’t have patience for tears.
Don’t say yes unless you’re certain you can handle me.
Your body isn’t made for my kind,” he said against my ear.
“So when I take you, you will be stretched to your limit, and once I start... I don’t stop. ”
It was his brutal way of being considerate: one last chance to back out.
But I didn’t want considerate.
I wanted feral.
“If you don’t take me to your tent right now and fuck me, Titus,” I whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe, “I swear to God I’m going to command Draxxinar to fucking eat you.”
He tensed—arousal laced with a flicker of fear.
I’d challenged him with the one thing that could rattle him: my connection to dragons.
And it only provoked him more.
He used that fast-moving magic again and before I could process it, he was standing with me wrapped around him. His hands gripped my ass to support my weight with delicious dominance.
He kissed me like he hated me—violent, consuming. Not love, not lust. Something darker.
And it didn’t bother me one bit because there were times I hated him too.
But I wanted him.
The real version of Big Red—the toy I’d grown so fond of—was here, and wanted me too.
He dropped me onto the raised cot with a soft plop, fur blankets cushioning my back. His tent was dim, lit by a single lantern.
The faint gold shimmer of his skin made him look like a god.
His hands landed on my knees and forced them apart. He slid my thong aside and licked my outer lips that were already slick, with his unnaturally warm tongue.
The heat was so intense I shivered.
He groaned. “Fuck, princess. You taste so fucking good I could come from the taste alone.”
He swirled his tongue around my clit, breath rolling over me, and it sent me over the fucking moon.
“I want you so bad,” I panted as I sat up.
He smiled wickedly and pressed a palm to my sternum, pushing me back.
“Lay the fuck back. Don’t rush me,” he murmured. Then his lips hovered mine. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. His head tilted in a Fae manner as he said, "I’ll restrain you again if I have to.”
My body throbbed for him—scorching ache in every pulse.
He positioned his head between my legs.
His tongue plunged inside me, then slurped back up to my clit, sucking.
“Fuck, Titus—fuck me now, please,” I begged. Actually, pathetically begged.
He chuckled. “If you want my cock, you’re going to have to earn it.”
He kept teasing—enough to make me spiral, not enough to let me fall.
“Please,” I gasped. “I’ll do anything.”
“All right then.” He shifted above me, towel barely hanging on. His hand slid behind my head and pushed my face into his kiss. He sucked my bottom lip.
Then, in one fluid motion, he sat up and pulled me by my head toward the erection straining under the towel.
My body rolled to hands and knees, his god-dick inches from my face.
“All you have to do,” my brain screamed, “is pull the fucking towel.”
“Suck it.”
Two words, and I fully submitted. Saliva flooded my mouth.
I tugged the towel down; it snagged for a moment, hanging on his cock like a hook, then fell away.
My eyes locked onto him—ready, starving—but then my face shifted into disbelief.
Not at his cock... What?...
No.
There's no way...
There was a small tattoo on his lower hip. The same one I had.
The same one Danny had. In the same place. “It's not possible” My voice turned to a whisper. “I told you it was big,” he said, smug.
“No—not that.” I stood and lifted my nightgown to my hip, showing him my matching tattoo in the exact same place.
He froze. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink.
The air went thin replaced with dense magic. Our breaths turned heavy.
Reality warped, like stepping into a dream. For a moment it was hard to breathe.
Then suddenly the weight lifted, and the world snapped back to normal.
His burning amber eyes met mine, but they looked different now. Still eerie amber, but with something else, something familiar, wisdom maybe.
“Pickles?” he asked softly.
I lost my breath, unable to speak for several moments. “What…did…you…just say? …Why did you call me that?”
My voice choked, shaking uncontrollably.
Emotion rose in his eyes. He looked so different now. That familiarity… that pull…
Could it be?
The color drained from my face. My heart dropped into my gut. My stomach churned. My hands shook.
The déjà vu was so violent I nearly fainted.
“Danny?” I could barely say his name, terrified to give voice to something I knew wasn’t possible. Like if I whispered it too clearly, the illusion would shatter.
I brushed his hair from his eyes with trembling fingers, like moving one tuft would make it easier to recognize him, and this would all make more sense somehow.
“Yes,” he murmured. “At least… I used to be.” I shattered.
My heart burst and reformed. My legs turned to jelly. I threw myself into him and sobbed, raw and guttural, beyond control. Beyond anything sane or normal.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I cried into his chest. He held me just as tight.
“How is this possible?” I whimpered. He brushed my hair back.
My vision wavered. The impossibility of it tilted the world. I sat on the cot to steady myself.
He sat beside me and squeezed my hand.
“I’ve read about this,” he said, shaking his head. “But I thought it was myth.”
I could see it now so clearly, the similarity between Danny and Titus. Their looks, their personalities.
Tears welled in his eyes. He rubbed them away.
“It’s called the memory veil,” he said. “Some kind of spell the Guardians place on souls every time they’re born into a new life. It blocks past-life memories.”
“Why would they do that?” I asked.
“No one knows,” he said. “But my guess would be keeping memories from every life could fracture a mind.”
“The spell can be broken by recognition of a trigger. Once both parties recognize their trigger, the veil is lifted.”
“So our trigger is… our matching tattoos?” “Yes.”
“But how did you get Danny’s tattoo on this body?” I asked, overwhelmed. “Were you born with it?”