Lover Enshrined

Chapter Fifty-seven

More than a month later, Cormia woke up in the way she was becoming accustomed to greeting the night’s fall.

Phury’s hips were pushing at hers, his body nudging a rock-hard erection against her. He was likely still asleep, and as she rolled over onto her stomach and made room for him, she smiled, knowing what his response would be. Yup, he was on her in a heartbeat, the blanket of his heavy weight warm and grounding and-

She moaned as he pushed inside.

“Mmmm,” he said into her ear. “Good evening, shellan.”

She smiled and tilted her spine so he could go even deeper. “Hellren mine, how fare thee-”

They both groaned as he surged, the powerful stroke going right into the very soul of her. As he rode her slow and sweet, nuzzling at her nape, nipping at her with his fangs, they held hands, their fingers intertwined.

They hadn’t been officially mated yet, as there had been too much to do with the Chosen, who wanted to see what this world was like. But they were together every moment, and Cormia couldn’t imagine how they had lived apart.

Well… there was one night a week that they were separated for a little while. Phury went to his NA meeting every Tuesday.

Quitting the red smoke was hard on him. There were a lot of times when he would get tense or his eyes would lose focus or he would struggle not to snap at something in annoyance. He’d had day sweats for the first two weeks, and though they were lessening, his skin still went through periods when it was hypersensitive.

He hadn’t had one single relapse, though. No matter how bad it got, he didn’t cave. And there had been no alcohol for him, either.

They had been having a lot of sex, however. Which was fine with her.

Phury pulled out and rolled her over on her back. As he settled into place at her core again, he kissed her with urgency, his palms going to her breasts, his fingertips brushing over her tight nipples. Arching into him, she slipped her hands between them, took his arousal, and stroked it just as he liked it, from base to tip, base to tip.

Over on the bureau, his cell phone went off with a beep, and they ignored it as she smiled widely and guided him back inside. When they were one again, the firestorm took off and took over them, their rhythm becoming urgent. Holding on to her love’s surging shoulders and mirroring his thrusts, she was carried away by him, with him.

After the rush had passed and faded, she opened her eyes and was greeted by the warm yellow stare that made her glow from the inside out.

“I love waking up,” he said, kissing her on the mouth.

“Me, too-”

The stairwell fire alarm went off, its shrill cry the kind of thing that made you want to be deaf.

Phury laughed and rolled to the side, tucking her into his chest. “Five… four… three… two-”

“Soooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyy!” Layla called out from the foot of the stairs.

“What was it this time, Chosen?” he hollered back.

“Scrambled eggs,” she yelled up.

Phury shook his head and said softly to Cormia, “See, I’d have figured it was the toast.”

“Can’t be that. She broke the toaster yesterday.”

“She did?”

Cormia nodded. “Tried to put a piece of pizza in it. The cheese.”

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere.”

Phury spoke up. “That’s okay, Layla. You can always clean the pan and try again.”

“I don’t think the pan’s going to work anymore,” came the reply.

Phury’s voice dropped. “I’m so not going to ask.”

“Aren’t they metal?”

“Should be.”

“I’d better go help.” Cormia shifted upright and called out, “I’m coming down, my sister! Two secs.”

Phury tugged her back to him for a kiss, then let her go. She had a quick shower, as in lightning quick, and came out wearing loose blue jeans and one of Phury’s Gucci shirts.

Maybe it came from years of wearing robes, but she didn’t like tight clothes. Which was fine with her hellren, because he liked her in his.

“That color looks perfect on you,” he drawled as he watched her plait her hair.

“You like the lavender?” She did a little twirl for him and his stare flashed brilliant yellow.

“Oh, yeah. I like. Come here, Chosen.”

She put her hands on her hips as the piano started playing down below. Scales. Which meant Selena was up. “I have to go downstairs before Layla burns the house down.”

Phury smiled that smile he sported when he was picturing her very, very naked. “Come here, Chosen.”

“How about I go and come back with food?”

Phury had the audacity to throw the tangled sheet away and put his hand on his hard, heavy sex. “Only you have what I’m hungry for.”

A vacuum cleaner joined the chorus of noise coming from downstairs, so it was clear who else was up and about. Amalya and Pheonia drew straws every day to see who got to use the Dyson. Didn’t matter whether the carpets in Rehvenge’s great camp needed it or not-they always got vacuumed.

“Two secs,” she said, knowing that if she got within range of his hands, they were going to be all over each other again. “Then I’ll come back and you can feed my mouth, how about that.”

Phury’s massive body trembled, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “Oh, yeah. That’s… Oh, yeah, that’s a very good plan.”

His phone let out a reminder beep, and he reached over to the bedside table with a groan. “Okay, go on now, before I don’t let you out of here for another hour. Or four.”

She laughed and turned for the door.

“Dear… God.”

Cormia turned around. “What is it?”

Phury sat up slowly, his hands holding the phone as if it were worth more than the four hundred dollars he’d paid for it the week before.

“Phury?”

He held it out to her screen-first.

The text was from Zsadist: Baby girl, two hours ago. Nalla. Hope you’re good. Z.

She bit her lip and then gently put her hand on his shoulder. “You should go back to the house. You should see him. See them.”

Phury swallowed hard. “Yeah. I don’t know. Not going back there… I think it’s maybe a good thing. Wrath and I can do what we need to over the phone and… Yeah. Better not to.”

“Are you going to return the text?”

“I am.” He covered his hips with the sheet and just stared at the phone.

After a moment, she said, “Would you like me to do it for you?”

He nodded. “Please. Make it from both of us, ’kay?”

She kissed the top of his head and then texted, Blessings upon you and your shellan and your young. We are with you in spirit, love, Phury and Cormia.

The following evening, Phury was tempted not to go to the NA meeting. Very tempted.

He wasn’t sure what made him go. Didn’t know how he did it.

All he wanted was to light up so he didn’t have to feel the pain. But how messed up was it that he was hurting? The fact that his twin’s young had come into the world healthy, that Z was now a father, that Bella had lived through it, that the young was all right… you would figure he’d be thrilled and relieved. It was what he and everyone else had been praying for.

No doubt he was the only one who was fucked in the head over it all. The rest of the Brothers would be busy toasting Z and his new daughter and pampering Bella. The celebrations would be going on for weeks, and Fritz would be ecstatic with all the special meals and ceremonies.

Phury could just see it. The grand entrance of the mansion would be draped in bolts of brilliant green, the color of Z’s bloodline, and purple, the color of Bella’s. Wreaths of flowers would be hung on every single door in the house, even the closets and cabinets, to symbolize that Nalla had come through to this side. The fireplaces would stay lit for days with sweet logs, those slow-burning, treated pieces of wood whose flames would burn red for the new blood of the darling one.

At the start of the twenty-fourth hour following her birth, every person in the house would bring unto the proud parents a tremendous ribbon bow woven of their family colors. The bows would be tied on the spindles of Nalla’s crib, as pledges to oversee her through her life. By the end of the hour, the place where she laid her precious head would be covered with a cascade of satin bows, their long ends reaching the floor in a river of love.

Nalla would be gifted with priceless jewelry and draped in velvet and held in gentle arms. She would be cherished for the miracle she was, and ever would her birth be rejoiced in the hearts of those who had waited with hope and fear to greet her.

Yeah… Phury didn’t know what got him to the community center. And he didn’t know what helped him through that door and into that basement. And he didn’t know what made him stay.

He did know that when he returned to Rehvenge’s house, he couldn’t go inside.

Instead he sat on the back terrace, in a woven wicker chair, under the stars. There was nothing on his mind. And absolutely everything.

Cormia came out at some point and put her hand on his shoulder, as she always did when she sensed he was deep in his head. He kissed her palm, and then she kissed his mouth and went back inside, likely to get back to work on the plans for Rehv’s new club.

The night was quiet and downright cold. Every once in a while the wind would come and brush through the treetops, the autumnal leaves rustling together with a cooing sound like they enjoyed the attention.

Behind him in the house, he could hear the future. The Chosen were stretching their arms out into this world, learning things about themselves and this side. He was so proud of them, and he supposed he was the Primale of old tradition in that he would kill to protect his females and would do anything for any of them.

But it was a fatherly love. His mated love was for Cormia and her alone.

Phury rubbed the center of his chest and let the hours pass as they would, at their own speed, while the wind gusted as it did, at its own strength. The moon drifted up to its apex in the sky and began its descent. Someone put opera on inside the house. Someone changed it to hip-hop, thank God. Someone started a shower. Someone vacuumed. Again.

Life. In all its mundane majesty.

And you couldn’t take advantage of it if you were sitting on your ass in the shadows…whether that was in actuality, or metaphorically because you were trapped in an addict’s darkness.

Phury reached down and touched the calf of his prosthesis. He’d made it this far with only part of a leg. Living through the rest of his life without his twin and without his brothers… he would do that, too. He had much to be grateful for, and that would make up for a lot.

He wouldn’t always feel this empty.

Someone in the house went back to the opera.

Oh, shit. Puccini this time.

“Che Gelida Manina.”

Of all the choices they had, why pick the one solo guaranteed to make him feel worse? God, he hadn’t listened to La Bohème since… well, forever, it seemed. And the sound of what he had loved so much squeezed his ribs so tightly, he couldn’t breathe.

Phury gripped the arms of the chair and started to stand. He just couldn’t listen to that tenor’s voice. That glorious, soaring tenor reminded him so much of-

Zsadist appeared at the edge of the forest. Singing.

He was singing… It was his tenor in Phury’s ear, not some CD from inside the house.

Z’s voice surfed the aria’s peaks and valleys as he came forward over the grass, moving closer with each perfectly pitched, resonant word. The wind became the brother’s orchestra, blowing the spectacular sounds that breached his mouth out over the lawn and the trees and up into the mountains, up into the heavens, where only such a talent could have been born.

Phury got to his feet as if his twin’s voice, not his own legs, had lifted him from the chair. This was the thanks that had not been spoken. This was the gratitude for the rescue and the appreciation for the life that was lived. This was the wide-open throat of an astounded father, who was lacking the words to express what he felt to his brother and who needed the music to show something of all he wished he could say.

“Ah, hell… Z,” Phury whispered in the midst of the glory.

As the solo reached its zenith, as the tenor of emotions was struck most powerfully, the Brotherhood appeared one by one from out of the darkness, pulling free of the night. Wrath. Rhage. Butch. Vishous. They were all dressed in the white ceremonial robing they would have worn to honor the twenty-fourth hour of Nalla’s birth.

Zsadist sang the last delicate note of the piece right in front of Phury.

As the final line, “Vi piaccia dir!” drifted into the infinite, Z held up his hand.

Waving in the night wind was a tremendous bow made of green-and-gold satin.

Cormia came to stand close at just the right time. As she put her arm around Phury’s waist, she was all that kept him steady.

In the Old Language, Zsadist said, “Wouldst both thou honor my birthed daughter with the colors of thy lineages and the love of thy hearts?”

Z bowed deeply, offering the bow.

Phury’s voice was hoarse as he took the streaming lengths of satin. “It would be the honor of the ages to pledge our colors unto your birthed daughter.”

As Z straightened, it was hard to say who stepped forward first.

Most likely they met in the middle.

Neither said anything while they embraced. Sometimes words didn’t go far enough, the vessels of letters and the ladles of grammar incapable of holding the heart’s sentiments.

The Brotherhood started to clap.

At some point, Phury reached out and took Cormia’s hand, drawing her close.

He pulled back and looked at his twin. “Tell me, does she have yellow eyes?”

Z smiled and nodded. “Yeah, she does. Bella says she looks like me… which means she looks like you. Come meet my little girl, brother mine. Come back and meet your niece. There’s a big empty place on her crib, and we need the two of you to fill it.”

Phury held Cormia close and felt her hand rub the center of his chest. Taking a deep breath, he swiped his eyes. “That’s my favorite opera and my favorite solo.”

"I know.” Z smiled at Cormia and referenced the first two lines, “Che gelida manina, se la lasci riscaldar.” “And now you have a little hand to warm in your own.”

“Same can be said of you, my brother.”

"So true. So blessedly true.” Z grew serious. “Please… come see her-but also, come see us. The brothers miss you. I miss you.”

Phury narrowed his eyes, something sliding into place. “It’s you, isn’t it. You’ve come to the community center. You’ve watched me sit on that swing afterward.”

Z’s voice grew hoarse. “I’m so damned proud of you.”

Cormia spoke up. “Me, too.”

What a perfect moment this was, Phury thought. Such a perfect moment with his twin before him and his shellan beside him and the wizard nowhere in sight.

Such a perfect moment that he knew he was going to remember for the rest of his days as clearly and as poignantly as he lived it now.

Phury kissed his shellan’s forehead, lingering against her, giving thanks. Then he smiled at Zsadist.

“With pleasure. We’ll come to Nalla’s crib with pleasure and reverence.”

“And your ribbons?”

He looked down at the green and the gold, the lovely satin lengths intertwined, symbolizing the union of him and Cormia. Abruptly, she tightened her arms around him, as if she were thinking exactly the same thing he was.

Namely, that the two went perfectly together.

“Yes, my brother. We’re absolutely coming with our ribbons. ” He looked deeply into her eyes. “And, you know, if we have time for a mating ceremony, that would be great because-”

The hooting and hollering and back slapping of the Brotherhood cut off the rest of what he was going to say. But Cormia got the gist. He’d never seen any female smile as beautifully and broadly as she did then while looking up at him.

So she must have known what he meant.

I love you forever didn’t always need to be spoken to be understood.