Damien found himself hosting the Demon King and his mate that night. Since the citadel was closest, the medic recommended it would be best for them to rest there and travel home the next day. Syreena and Damien did not mind, of course. They welcomed the company. As did Elijah and Siena, who had decided to spend the night as well. Noah and Kestra were tucked into a bed in guest quarters, healed to a point of comfort, their bodies left to do the rest over the next twenty-four hours.

Kestra was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but though her equally wiped-out counterpart fell asleep immediately, she couldn't rest so easily. She stopped her silent pacing of the room, donned a borrowed robe, and walked the halls of the citadel. She was wary, not liking the idea of being surrounded by Vampires. It was an understandable sensation, considering. But she tried to take Damien's assurances of safety to heart.

It was just about dawn, so the traffic in the castle had wound down to silence. Kes didn't encounter anyone else until she ran into Elijah in an alcove that doubled as a sitting area.

"Kes!" He greeted her cheerily, waving her over to a seat next to him. "How are you feeling?" he asked as she sat, curling her legs up beneath her.

"Alive," was all she had to say to that.

"I think that is a fair feeling," Elijah agreed. "I bet Noah seconds it."

"Yes." She paused several beats, but Elijah sensed she was gathering her thoughts and he let her do so. "I can't have children," she blurted out suddenly. "I love him and he loves me, but he deserves children! Elijah, he's a King. He needs heirs. Doesn't he? He's so wonderful with Leah and he loves kids. I see it. I feel it. He would be a magnificent father. What am I supposed to feel about this? How-" She choked on her own pent-up emotions. "How can Destiny pick someone like me for someone like him when I can't give him something he so clearly deserves?"

Elijah exhaled in a soft, introspective sigh.

"It's funny," he said gently, "how hard you are on yourselves when it comes to this. Women, I mean," he clarified at her sidelong look. "Syreena is a perfect example. She is frantic to give Damien an heir, and when she doesn't conceive, she destroys herself over it. Siena is no better. She is watching her sister play the baby game and I hear her thoughts and fears. She is afraid she will fail me. If anyone should fear failure to provide a child, it should be me. She is the one who needs the heir. It's my job to be a worthy stud."

His irreverent expression made her laugh in spite of her shaky emotions. Elijah realized she had been through an emotional wringer that day and she should not be tackling this topic just then, but clearly it was heavy on her mind. He suspected that she was sharing with him because he was pretty much a stranger and she was afraid to talk to someone she knew better. Yet he was close enough to understand the necessary particulars. He sighed, wondering when the hell he'd gotten so mature and wise.

"But they fear success and odds and possibilities," Kestra whispered softly. "I already know it is impossible for me to get pregnant."

"Does Noah?"

"Y-yes, but-"

"Ah. Always a 'but.' Kes, there is no 'but' here. You and Noah are Imprinted. This is as good as it gets. It is a magnificent blessing. Anything beyond that is icing." He sighed with regret. "And I don't think I need to remind you that there is a war around us. You know what war means, Kes. We're going to lose friends and loved ones, and they're going to leave children behind. Who better to take them in than their King and Queen? There are always children in the world in need of parents. Even in the Demon world."

"Adoption?"

"Adoption, fostering, hell-babysitting, if you dig that sort of thing. Kes, Noah loves you. He will never want for anything more ever again. The day he knew you were going to be his, he became rich and content. Anything else is..."

"Icing?" She laughed, her heart easing with something that felt a lot like contentment.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "And maybe the occasional candy flower."

Noah turned over in the bed, the remnants of pain creeping into his waking mind. He opened his eyes and groaned softly at the ache wrapped around his chest. His frantic mate had broken several of his ribs in her enthusiasm to revive him. Not that he was complaining, but there was no Demon medic at the citadel. They had been forced to settle for the skills of the Lycanthrope Monk whom Damien had decided to keep permanently on staff for his wife. It was all they had needed, really; their advanced self-healing skills were more than able to do the rest within a day or two.

Recalling how deeply wounded Kestra had been as well, he suddenly came to full wakefulness and rolled over to find her on the other side of the bed. He gasped when he moved too fast, and his hand snatched up to his left side beneath his arm. He wasn't awake enough yet to steel himself against broken ribs, a bruised chest and heart, and lungs badly abused by water and dirt he could still taste in the back of his throat. Still, he felt a hell of a lot better than he had the night before.

He recalled his search for his mate and looked down at the bed.

Empty.

His brows knit in consternation and he instantly searched his mind for her.

Kes?

Yes?

He felt a new pain in his chest when the sadness he heard in her voice kicked him hard in the heart.

Where are you?

The east tower.

Well, at least she wasn't trying to hide from him, he thought with a frown as he tossed back the sheet and other bedding. He realized then that he had no clothing, his having been ruined the night before.

There's a robe in the closet, baby.

The simple domestic courtesy of her thoughts made him feel marginally better. She knew he was coming to her and her assistance told him she did not mind. The nickname, as always, soothed almost all ills. He found the robe and, not able to change form with so much damaged tissue in his body, he set about trekking to the east tower.

He was a little winded when he reached the top of the tower stairs, but the freezing-cold wind whipping over the turret was what truly took his breath away. Kestra was dressed the same way he was, in a simple terry robe, and had evidently been standing up here for quite some time. When he reached to touch her, she was nearly frozen.

"Merciful Destiny, Kes! You feel like ice!"

"Do I?"

Noah stepped up to her, pressing his front to her back, shivering at the difference in their body temperatures in the instant before he began to warm them with his power. He was afraid he would never understand why she did this. Did she not feel the cold, or did she do it on purpose as some kind of mental test or punishment? He could not tell.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, pressing a kiss on her ear near the stitches necessary to close the deep slashes she'd endured.

"It's so stark here," she said, drawing his attention to the mountain landscape that cradled the citadel. It was bleak with coming winter, the area gray with shale and a flat, calmed lake in the distance. Jagged black and gray rocks lined the bottom of the castle. It looked every inch the forbidding Vampire stronghold.

"Do not forget that beyond the ridges lie very lush forests. This spot is chosen for defensibility and its power to evoke superstitious thoughts in the local human populace. It keeps them away."

"This barrenness keeps them away," she reiterated quietly.

"Yes. That and the dominance of the citadel. It is a bit daunting."

"Noah." She turned in his arms, her chilled front coming into contact with his heated one. He kept his hands on her throughout the entire rotation, ending with them resting on the small of her back. She drew a quick breath, abruptly overwhelmed with how beautiful he was. She took a moment to see the life burning brightly in his eyes, cherishing its return to its proper place.

Then she forgot everything she was going to say, trading it for his embrace, her arms snaking around his ribs as she reached for his mouth. He welcomed her readily, eagerly in fact, drawing her mouth deeply under his. Her hair whipped around them in the wind, her chapped cheek cold against the brush of his nose.

Noah watched as Kestra pulled away, her full mouth glistening from his kiss as her troubled eyes flicked over his face. She brushed her fingers through his thick hair, playing with it softly a long minute. Then her hands were on his face, touching his forehead and cheeks, absorbing every angle of his jaw and chin, finally resting her thumbs against his mouth and rubbing them over his lips with precision and care. Then she brushed her fingertips over his lashes and waited for a minute until he looked at her so she could study his eyes.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, her voice catching in a way that stabbed clean through his heart. Tears welled in her crystalline blue eyes and the situation just about brought him to his knees.

"Kes, tell me what is wrong," he demanded, unable to bear her pain a moment longer.

"It isn't fair," she said hoarsely. "You're so beautiful. So good. Such a wonderful man. You have so much love to give and so much wisdom to share. Everything about you deserves to go on forever. If anyone in all this world deserves a child, Noah, it's you."

"Kes...damn it, Kes, do not do this," he growled fiercely, jerking her hard into his embrace, ignoring the flash of pain it caused as he squeezed the breath from them both. "Do not use any more excuses for pushing away from me. I cannot take it anymore. I will not live without you, do you understand me? I cannot live without you. Can you comprehend that? How that feels? Can you feel how much it rips my heart out every time I hear you threatening our future together?"

"No! I mean...yes...Noah, that isn't what I meant," she stuttered in shock. "I love you!" she insisted, pulling away with a wriggle so he could see that truth in her eyes. "And I'm not going anywhere, even if I could. I don't want to leave you! That's my point. I feel...I can't make myself be unselfish. I know you said-oh, hell, I'm screwing this up!"

Noah smiled when she pressed a flustered hand to her forehead.

"I am sorry," he apologized gently. "I am listening. Make your point."

"I only meant to say..." She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I can't give you that," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you and you mean the world to me. I know we will always be together. I want to marry you and be with you as your mate forever. I want it so badly it closes up my throat and hurts my heart with more joy than I can possibly manage in a single lifetime. But you deserve a child of your blood, and I can't give you one, and I feel so much grief when I think of it. Oh, Noah," she sobbed, "you haven't grieved that loss yet, and I know you will one day, and it kills me to think that I'll cause you that kind of pain."

"Kes," he said softly, closing his eyes as her grief washed over him. "Hush, baby," he soothed, adding a soft, sibilant sound to the command. "You are right, and I will not insult you by denying it. I have not grieved that loss yet. I may never, or I may do so with as much pain as you are feeling now. I cannot foretell how I will come to feel about it. I can only tell you I will not love you any less for it. I need to know you know that." He released a breath when she nodded, feeling relief. "As long as you believe that, it will be borne and it will pass, and we will both survive to love each other as long as we may.

"I am sorry, too, that you will never have a child of your own blood. That you will never pass on this beautiful hair and these stunning eyes is a tragedy, and I feel the pain of that. I do grieve that your strength of character and your cunning will end with you. The world will be deprived of an incredible treasure. But"-he paused to kiss away the tears beneath her eyes, pulling her back so he could catch her gaze-"maybe Destiny is compensating for that by giving immortality to the original model, baby. She has that way about her, you know."

She gave him a watery laugh when he smiled gently at her. "How do you always know the right thing to say?" she demanded, giving him a shove against his ribs.

Noah flinched and grunted.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, I forgot! Noah, I am so sorry!"

"Now I know how I got this way in the first place," he groaned exaggeratedly. "You have no idea of your own strength."

"Well, I've only had it for a few weeks. Cut me some slack!" She protested with all sass, but her expression was wide-eyed with concern and her hands brushed tenderly over his rib cage.

"Stop that." He chuckled, catching her hands when they went to untie his robe to better inspect the damage she had done. "I will start getting ideas with my unbruised body parts that do not go well with my bruised body parts."

Kestra clicked her tongue. "You're terrible."

"Rotten to the core," he agreed. "Now come downstairs with me out of this cold. We will eat and talk and..." He trailed off, a crooked smile playing over his lips.

"If you think I'm going to ask you to finish that sentence, you're out of your mind," she laughed, letting him lead her away.

"What?" he asked innocently, "I was going to say 'and plan the wedding.'"

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed without conviction. "And I'm the fainting type," she tacked on dryly.

"You are not the fainting type?" he asked with feigned shock as they started down the stairs.

"Nope."

"Well, how about a slight swoon?"

"Swoon!"

"Old-fashioned term?"

"Try antiquated."

"Are you casting aspersions on my age, young lady?"

"No. Just a little payback for Kikilia," she said smartly.

"That happens to be a beloved nickname handed down from generation to generation," he retorted.

"Oh? And you don't find 'sweet little girl' to be at all politically incorrect? Not to mention totally unsuited to me?"

"Not in the least," he laughed.

"Oh! Remind me to hit you when you heal," she growled.

"Only if you promise to remind me to do something to you when I heal."

She giggled at that.

"You need a reminder for that?"

"I anticipate needing several reminders for that."

Try the NIGHTWALKERS series from the beginning!

Start the journey with JACOB...

It was daylight once more when Jacob floated down through Noah's manor until he was in the vault, one moment dust dancing through the incandescent light, the next coming to rest lightly on his feet. He looked around the well-lit catacomb, seeking his prey. He heard a rustling sound from the nearest stacks and moved toward it.

There was a soft curse, a grunt, and the sudden slam of something hitting the floor. Jacob came around just in time to find Isabella dangling from one of the many shelves, her feet swaying about ten feet above the floor as she searched with her toes for a foothold. On the floor below her was a rather ancient looking tome, the splattered pattern of the dust that had shaken off it indicating it had been the object he had heard fall. Far to her left was the ladder she had apparently been using.

With a low sigh of exasperation, Jacob altered gravity for himself and floated himself up behind her. "You are going to break your neck."

Isabella was not expecting a voice at her ear, considering her peculiar circumstances, and she started with a little scream. One hand lost hold and she swung right into the hard wall of his chest. He gathered her up against himself, his arm slipping beneath her knees so she was safely cradled, his warmth infusing her with a sense of safety and comfort as he brought her down to the floor effortlessly. In spite of herself, she pressed her cheek to his chest.

"Must you sneak up on me in midair like that? It's very unnerving."

She had meant to sound angry, but the soft, breathless accusation was anything but. Anyway, how angry would he think her to be if she was snuggling up to him like a kitten? Damn it, Demon or not, he was still a sinfully good-looking man. Jacob was elegant to a fault, his movements and manner centered on an efficiency of actions that drew the eye. He was dressed again in well-tailored black slacks, and this time a midnight blue dress shirt with his cuffs turned back. She could feel the rich quality of the silk beneath her cheek, and when she breathed in, Jacob smelled like the rich, heady earth he claimed his abilities from.

Besides all the outwardly alluring physicality, Isabella knew that he was extremely sensitive about all his interactions with others. She could feel his moral imperatives tingling through her mind whenever he was near. His heart, she knew, was made of incredibly honorable stuff. How could she find it in herself to be afraid of that? Especially when he had never once hurt her, even though there had been plenty of influences compelling him to.

"Shall I put you back and let you plummet to your death?" he asked, releasing her legs and letting her body slide slowly down his until her feet touched the floor.

The whisper of the friction of their clothes hummed across Jacob's skin, and he felt his senses focusing in on every nuance of sensation she provided for him. The swishing silk of her hair even in its present tangled state, the sweet warmth of her breath and body, the ivory perfection of her skin. He reached to wipe a smudge of dust from her delectable little nose. She was a mess. There was no arguing that. Head to toe covered in dust and grime and she smelled like an old book, but those earthy scents would never be something unappealing to one of his kind. Jacob breathed deeply as the usual heat she inspired stirred in his cool blood. It was stronger with each passing moment, with each progressive day, and he never once became unaware of that fact. He tried to tell himself it was merely the effects of the growing moon, but that reasoning did not satisfy him. Hallowed madness would not allow for the unexpected compulsion toward tenderness he kept experiencing whenever he looked down into her angelic face. It would never allow him to enjoy these simple yet significant stirrings of his awareness without forcing him into overdrive. True, he was holding on to his control with a powerful leash of determination. He was tamping down the surges of want and lust that gripped him so hard sometimes it was nearly crippling, but somehow it was still different.

Then he had to also acknowledge the melding of their thoughts as something truly unique. Perhaps a human could initiate such a contact if he or she were a medium or psychic of noteworthy ability, but she made no claims to such special talents. Every day the images of her mind became clearer to him. She had even taken to consciously sending him picturesque impressions in response to some discussion they were having with Noah, Elijah, and Legna. He believed that, if things continued to progress in this manner, he and Bella would soon be engaging in actual discussions with each other without ever opening their mouths. He didn't have fact to base that assumption on, but it seemed the natural evolution to the growing silent communication between them.

He had seen Legna staring at them curiously on several occasions. Luckily, because she was a female Mind Demon, she was not a full telepath. If she had been a male she would have been privy to some pretty private exchanges between him and Isabella. Nothing racy, actually, but he found Isabella had such an irreverent sense of humor that he wasn't sure others would understand it as he seemed to.

It was a privacy of exchange he found himself coveting. It was the one way they could be together without Legna or Noah interfering. It was bad enough that the empath was constantly sniffing at his emotions, making sure he kept in careful control of his baser side. Since the King was not able to subject him the usual punishment that was meted out for those who had crossed the line as he had with Isabella, his monarch had been forced to be a little more creative. Setting Legna the empathic bloodhound on him had done the trick. It was also seriously pissing him off. He knew she was always there, and it burned his pride like nuclear fire.

What was more, he couldn't keep his mind away from Isabella. And since even the smallest thought of her had a way of sparking an onslaught of fantasies that brought his body to physical readiness...well, it was the very last thing he wanted an audience for.

It had taken quite a bit of planning, and the deceptive use of herbal tea mixtures, in order to slip out from under Legna's observation so he could sneak away to the vault. The empath slept as soundly as the dead, and she would stay that way until this evening.

"I wouldn't have fallen to my death," Bella was arguing, her stubborn streak prickling. "At the most, I would have fallen to my 'broken leg' or my 'concussion' or something. Boy, you Demons have this way of making everything seem so intense and pivotal."

"We are a very intense people, Bella."

"Tell me about it." She wriggled out of his embrace, putting distance between them with a single step back. Jacob was well aware of it being a very purposeful act. "I've been reading books and scrolls as far back as seven hundred years ago. You were just a gleam in your daddy's eye then, I imagine."

"Demons may have long gestation periods for their young, but not seventy-eight years' worth."