Read Online My Immortal Assassin by Carolyn Jewel - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn Jewel
Tags: FIC027120
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Christophe. I’m so sorry.”
“He is the only remaining parent for his son.” He turned his wine glass in a slow circle. She knew about his magic, but not the extent of his power. He dabbled, he told her, but his money came from an Internet application he’d created and then sold to a much larger company. “The boy, he has no other family, I’m afraid, and my friend has asked me if I would raise his boy should the worst happen.”
She sat up straight, rearranging her robe more modestly. “You told him yes, I hope?”
Christophe smiled. He didn’t even have to use his magic to achieve the desired result. “I told him I must speak to you first.”
“Tell him yes. Yes of course!” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Is he very young, the boy?” Christophe nodded. “Oh. How tragic for them both. Does he know his father is ill?”
“Three years old.” He caressed the top of her shoulder, baring her skin once again. “I can’t say when he’ll come to live with us. My friend might survive after all. If not—” He grimaced. “There are always legal formalities.”
“He can use the room across from the baby’s, don’t you think? I’ll have it painted. New curtains. We’ll want to bring as much of his own things with him as we can.”
“Find a bed and a dresser at least. When the time comes—” He crossed himself. A habit for him. Christophe had been alive too long not to understand the power of habit and ritual. “—I’ll bring what I can.”
“That poor, poor child. To lose his family like that. Is there really no other family?”
“No one. Your heart is so tender.” He brought Erin in close and kissed her and he hardly needed Sheth’s intervention to feel a sexual reaction. He would have a son from Erin. A miracle, the child was. She hadn’t gotten pregnant right away, but that had only given them time alone. Time for him to fortify the memories he’d given her and bury the others. Time for him to become more than a little fond of her.
Her sentimentality ought to annoy him, but it didn’t. He was touched by her concern for the soon-to-be-orphaned boy. Christophe was confident his own son would be magekind. With two parents of power, how could the child not be? Nor would he mind more children. Erin answered a part of his soul that had been deaf and blind for too long. He pulled away from her and poured himself a second glass of wine.
“Your day was bad, wasn’t it?”
Christophe sighed. “Worse than you can imagine.”
“Your friend?”
He let her think that was it. What choice did he have? He could hardly tell Erin the truth, which was that he needed a young witch or mage whose magic he could siphon off to augment his own. The great Magellan himself was rumored to have done so himself, and on more than one occasion. Though most frowned on the practice, Christophe could feel the hole left behind by Anna’s theft.
Anna, or Gray as she seemed to be calling herself now, and that damned fiend of Nikodemus’s, that’s what had him in such a vile mood. She was to have conceived by Tigran, producing demonborn offspring whose power, Christophe was certain, could be taken before they were ever a threat to humans. If Magellan could take power from young magekind, then surely, one could do the same with young demonkind.
All those weeks and weeks Tigran had been dutifully fucking Gray. God knows how many times his mageheld must have impregnated her before Christophe found out what was really happening. Though it was impossible to fathom how a mageheld could have defied him like that, Tigran had somehow learned how to end each and every one of her conceptions. The fiend had deserved to die for his defiance. Cutting out his heart was too kind a death for such a betrayal.
He downed his second glass of wine as quickly as the first, and then he took Erin in his arms again. She responded to the heat of his anger. She was an excellent lover. Her magic made her sensitive to his moods. As ever,
“He is the only remaining parent for his son.” He turned his wine glass in a slow circle. She knew about his magic, but not the extent of his power. He dabbled, he told her, but his money came from an Internet application he’d created and then sold to a much larger company. “The boy, he has no other family, I’m afraid, and my friend has asked me if I would raise his boy should the worst happen.”
She sat up straight, rearranging her robe more modestly. “You told him yes, I hope?”
Christophe smiled. He didn’t even have to use his magic to achieve the desired result. “I told him I must speak to you first.”
“Tell him yes. Yes of course!” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Is he very young, the boy?” Christophe nodded. “Oh. How tragic for them both. Does he know his father is ill?”
“Three years old.” He caressed the top of her shoulder, baring her skin once again. “I can’t say when he’ll come to live with us. My friend might survive after all. If not—” He grimaced. “There are always legal formalities.”
“He can use the room across from the baby’s, don’t you think? I’ll have it painted. New curtains. We’ll want to bring as much of his own things with him as we can.”
“Find a bed and a dresser at least. When the time comes—” He crossed himself. A habit for him. Christophe had been alive too long not to understand the power of habit and ritual. “—I’ll bring what I can.”
“That poor, poor child. To lose his family like that. Is there really no other family?”
“No one. Your heart is so tender.” He brought Erin in close and kissed her and he hardly needed Sheth’s intervention to feel a sexual reaction. He would have a son from Erin. A miracle, the child was. She hadn’t gotten pregnant right away, but that had only given them time alone. Time for him to fortify the memories he’d given her and bury the others. Time for him to become more than a little fond of her.
Her sentimentality ought to annoy him, but it didn’t. He was touched by her concern for the soon-to-be-orphaned boy. Christophe was confident his own son would be magekind. With two parents of power, how could the child not be? Nor would he mind more children. Erin answered a part of his soul that had been deaf and blind for too long. He pulled away from her and poured himself a second glass of wine.
“Your day was bad, wasn’t it?”
Christophe sighed. “Worse than you can imagine.”
“Your friend?”
He let her think that was it. What choice did he have? He could hardly tell Erin the truth, which was that he needed a young witch or mage whose magic he could siphon off to augment his own. The great Magellan himself was rumored to have done so himself, and on more than one occasion. Though most frowned on the practice, Christophe could feel the hole left behind by Anna’s theft.
Anna, or Gray as she seemed to be calling herself now, and that damned fiend of Nikodemus’s, that’s what had him in such a vile mood. She was to have conceived by Tigran, producing demonborn offspring whose power, Christophe was certain, could be taken before they were ever a threat to humans. If Magellan could take power from young magekind, then surely, one could do the same with young demonkind.
All those weeks and weeks Tigran had been dutifully fucking Gray. God knows how many times his mageheld must have impregnated her before Christophe found out what was really happening. Though it was impossible to fathom how a mageheld could have defied him like that, Tigran had somehow learned how to end each and every one of her conceptions. The fiend had deserved to die for his defiance. Cutting out his heart was too kind a death for such a betrayal.
He downed his second glass of wine as quickly as the first, and then he took Erin in his arms again. She responded to the heat of his anger. She was an excellent lover. Her magic made her sensitive to his moods. As ever,
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