“Angry, then. If you’d let me in your thoughts, I’d be able to tell, wouldn’t I?”
She ignored his taunt and her fists clenched in her skirt, ruining the smooth silk. “I will not bear another child. Not even for you.”
“Nor have I asked you to. I know your feelings on the matter.”
“And yet you would allow Tynan to repair you?”
“Yes, so that he may learn how to repair the other men. You may not want children, but what about the other women who have come to us?”
“I assume none of them would like to see their babies slaughtered as I have mine. You’d be doing them a favor refusing Tynan,” said Gilda.
Angus sucked in a deep breath, reaching for patience. The depth of Gilda’s grief for their dead children knew no bounds. She hadn’t healed as was natural, as he had healed. Her grief had not lightened over the decades. Somehow, all the fear and anger and loss had festered inside Gilda, growing bigger and darker with the passage of time.
He should have seen it before. He should have sought to help her sooner, but he hadn’t, and now he was afraid that the affliction she suffered was too large and deep to be healed.
Except, possibly, by the birth of another child. One they would protect and keep from harm. One who would save its mother from her grief.
Angus’s soul ached to hold a babe in his arms, to hear the sound of its laughter and feel the pride of watching it grow up strong and brave and kind. He cherished all of his children, even those who had made poor choices. He missed them, and there would always be a hollow place in his heart that he couldn’t still hold them and speak to them, but that hollowness had not destroyed him. It had not ripped away his will to live or his ability to see the joy surrounding them. It had not tarnished the pride he had in working to keep so many humans safe.
“I won’t turn my back on my responsibilities,” said Angus, meaning more than just his responsibilities to his men. Gilda also needed him, though he doubted she would agree.
“No, instead you’ll turn your back on me.”
He reached for her, but she flinched, and he let his hand fall away. “Never that, love. You are now and have always been the center of my world. I would do anything for you.”
“Anything except deny Tynan?” Her hands unclenched and her face smoothed to impassivity. “Do as you will. I won’t try to stop you, but know this: as long as there is even the slightest chance you are fertile, I will not allow you to bed me.”
Angus almost laughed at her ludicrous statement until he saw the glint of lethal hostility shining in her eyes. The laugh bubbling inside him died, and he clamped his lips shut over the rotten sound.
“You meant it. We’ve made love more days than not for centuries, allowing nothing to come between us. How can you mean that?”
“I will not bring another child into this world.”
“Not even if it’s what I want?”
She gave him a level stare. “I love you. I’ve tried to give you whatever you wanted, but in this I cannot bend. I don’t love you enough to watch another child of mine die.”
“We won’t be able to resist each other,” said Angus with complete confidence.
“To prevent another child’s death, I will. Believe me.”
Angus did not doubt her sincerity, but neither could he back down. He had to help find a way to heal all of them, to bring children back into their lives. “I have to do this, Gilda. The men need me. But if you insist, we can use human forms of contraception.”
“No.” The word was flat, final and ugly. “If you do this, you will not touch me.”
A heavy sense of defeat fell on Angus, making him feel old and weary. He and Gilda had been through so much and always come out the other side stronger and closer than before. This time, for the first time, Angus questioned that possibility.
She’d shut him out of her thoughts. She’d never done that before. She’d never turned her back on him.
Angus couldn’t stand here and face her like this, unable to find a way to help her, and unwilling to give her what she thought she wanted. He had to act with his conscience, and pray that eventually, Gilda would see it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
He turned away, leaving the Hall of the Fallen and Gilda behind.
As the thud of his boots echoed in the long hallway, Angus suffered in silent frustration. He had to do this. He had to give his people hope for some kind of future. If Tynan’s calculations were off and this possible cure did harm instead of good, Angus would be the only one to suffer.
And if it succeeded, these walls would once again ring with the sound of happy children. Theronai children.
Angus was filled up with a renewed sense of purpose. He was going to help his men. Whether or not he ever had another child, he vowed that he would do whatever was necessary to see that his men did. They would rebuild their ranks and hope would be restored. Angus would not allow any lesser outcome.
Gilda was hurting right now. Weak from her efforts to restore the wall. Of course she would react badly to such a sensitive subject. It was hardly her fault that she suffered so, and he would forgive her. Hell, he already had. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her continue to destroy herself.
They weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot. She’d shut him out, but Angus refused to let it stand. She was hurting too much for him to do so. Whether or not she realized it, she needed him, and if that meant he had to trick her, then that was what he’d do. His woman was a stubborn one, and sometimes, the only way to get through her thick skull was by sheer force of will—the kind of force a man like Angus was more than equipped to exert.
He’d seduce her. She wouldn’t be able to resist him. She never had.
And once his child was growing inside of her, she’d find joy again. She’d soften and see he only wanted what was best for her—what was best for all of them.
Gilda watched Angus leave, keeping her knees locked until he was safely out of sight. As the carved wooden door clicked shut, she crumpled to the floor. Her body was weak and useless, but she made sure the barrier she’d put between them was still safely in place.
Tears wet her cheeks, but she ignored them. She was too weak to hold them in, too tired to care whether or not anyone saw.
Physically, the strain of using so much magic day after day was taking its toll. Her body trembled, barely able to stand up to the effort of moving around as if nothing was wrong. Mentally, she was in tatters. Blocking Angus out had taken the last of her reserves, and she could only hope that the barrier stayed safely in place until the wall was restored and she had a chance to rest.
But she’d had no choice. That barrier had been necessary.
Gilda couldn’t let Angus find out the truth. It wasn’t the Synestryn who had robbed Angus of his ability to have children. It had been Gilda. She’d sterilized all the Theronai men in a fit of anger and grief the night their youngest son died.
Standing over the bloody patch of grass that had been the only thing left of her son, she knew she could never again watch another child die. And the only way to ensure that was to never have another child.
She hadn’t meant for her magic to go beyond Angus. She hadn’t meant to put so much power into her spell, causing it to seek out and sterilize all the men, ensuring she could not conceive by any of them. She hadn’t meant to allow her grief to bind with that power, giving it enough strength to make it irreversible. At least to her.
Maybe Tynan had found a way where she hadn’t.
But she’d robbed the men of something so fundamental that what she had or hadn’t meant to do mattered little.
If Angus ever found out what she’d done—if any of the men did—she was sure they would hate her, shun her. Or worse, banish her. Send her to the Slayers like a man whose lifemark had died, letting those beasts do with her as they would.
Death would come, but not swiftly. Gilda had heard the stories of what the Slayers did to female prisoners.
She couldn’t let that happen to her. More important, she couldn’t let that happen to Angus.
Their fates were bound together. If she died, he would die with her, and Gilda loved him too much to let him witness her rape and murder. She’d be kinder to end her own life, or even kill him first, rather than have him live through that, helpless to stop it.
Gilda tried to push herself up, but her arms were too weak. Normally, Angus would have sensed her weakness and been by her side, lifting her into his thick arms and caring for her until the weakness abated.
But this was not normal. Angus couldn’t feel her weakness. He couldn’t feel anything. Not even the shame that burned so bright inside her she was sure it would set her skin aflame.
Gilda covered her face with her hands, wishing she’d done things differently.
Wishing changed nothing. Of course, neither had decades of pouring all of her strength into finding a way to reverse the magic she’d wrought. Nothing she’d done had helped. The longer the men remained sterile, the stronger the magic seemed to grow. She’d tried everything she knew, short of telling anyone what she’d done.
Maybe it was time to confess, or at least tell Tynan what she’d done. As much as she protected her secret, she was constantly worried that one of the Sanguinar would find out. She refused to let anyone but Logan feed from her, and then only when it was vital. Angus was more likely to give of his own blood than allow hers to be shed, and Gilda had accepted his protection, knowing that he inadvertently hid her secret with his kindness.
Angus was too good a man for her. Gilda knew it, but it changed nothing. She wasn’t going to let him go, even if there were a hundred compatible women waiting in line.
And she wasn’t going to let him lie with her. The chance that Tynan could find a way to reverse her magic was too much of a risk.
Losing Maura had nearly killed her. Sibyl’s refusal to speak to her was like dying over again each day. Time did nothing to ease the pain her last living child’s rejection caused her.
But Gilda deserved what she got. All of it. It was her fault none of the men could have children, just as it was her fault her baby girl would never grow into a woman.
Gilda stared into the fire while she waited for the tears to stop falling, while she waited for the shaking in her limbs to ease enough to allow her to stand.
She was alone now. Her mistakes had killed those she loved and driven the rest away. All that was left for her was grief and regret, and neither of them were going to help her stand. She was on her own. It was time to get tough.
Chapter 17
Lexi left the giant shower before Zach could distract her with his luscious body. One look at his erection bobbing against his muscled abs and all she wanted to do was go to her knees and suck him into her mouth, feel him explode against her tongue.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to get her any closer to ’fessing up about the bomb in her trunk, so she kept her eyes on his chin, got clean and got out as fast as she could.
She’d just finished dressing when he came into the room, wearing only a damp towel around his lean hips. His erection had abated and she found herself wondering if he’d gotten himself off in the shower without her.
