Darkness Arisen (6 page)

She blinked. "Our bond and our fates are sealed? What does that mean?" Even as she asked it, chills ran down her spine. It sounded too ominous and relentless, things that weren't her cup of tea even on a good day.

"The Calydon destiny is to bond with his mate," Ian explained, tracing the shape of his brand on her arm with his fingers, as if he could manifest it by sheer will. She started to pull away, and then stopped at the flash of tension on his face. "The moment the Calydon completes the bond, he will become so consumed by his woman that her breath becomes the only thing that fills his soul. He's then destined to lose her, and the moment he does, he will snap and go rogue."

Alice instinctively looked over at Ry, who was treading close to rogue already. She'd heard about rogue Calydons, and the swath of destruction they always left behind. "Ian, I don't believe—"

He caught her arm, his eyes blazing with intensity "He will destroy everyone and everything that matters to them. They will both lose that which they hold most dear. The only one who will be able to stop him is his soul mate, who will kill him. Once he dies, she will be so devastated by the loss, that she will kill herself. Everyone dies. No one wins."

Alice stared at him, at the absolute conviction in his face. "That can't be true—"

"It is. Lucky you. Lucky me. Love kills and all that fun jazz. I'm not one of the stable few who will be able to will himself to victory and stave off destiny, so I'll be going down for sure." His voice softened, and his grip on her arm softened to a caress as he rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "But the ride...the ride is incredible. Love. Passion. The knowledge that you have a partner who will defend you to the death, at all costs, no matter what. It's addicting. Intoxicating. Irresistible." He leaned forward, his mouth a mere breath from hers, tempting her like the devil himself. "Worth every minute, from what I hear."

Her heart began to pound, and it felt like heat was rising from her skin. "Like how you make me feel when you kiss me?"

He grinned at her admission that she was affected by his kisses. "Yeah, exactly like that, only a thousand times more."

"More?" she echoed faintly. She wasn't sure she'd survive more.

"Hell, yeah." His jaw hardened as he resumed tracing the shape of his mace over her forearm. "You don't carry my brand." He tapped her arm. "There's nothing there, Alice. Not a damn thing."

"Of course there isn't," she said, her voice more throaty than she liked. She knew she should be terrified of his little story, but there was something about the way he'd spoken about the soul mates that called to her. The intimacy. The connection. The knowledge that there was someone there for her, always, no matter what. "I'm not your soul mate." She managed a weak laugh. "My soul is already busy with other stuff, you know? No split loyalties. It's against the rules. I'm like a nun."

He snorted. "No nun makes love like you do." He met her gaze. "You are my
sheva
. We satisfied one of the bonding stages when we made love, so you should be marked."

Alice swallowed, her skin suddenly hot. She wasn't sure which to respond to first, his statement that they really had made love, or his continued claim that she was his mate. He’d already ignored her repeated assertion that she wasn't his, and as for the making love…she really didn't want to get into that debate. Instead, she simply raised her arm, showing him the unmarked skin. "No brand. Not yours." End of story. Please? Yeah, the whole intimacy of the bond was appealing, but the doomed fate? Not so much. She had enough on her plate, thanks so much.

"You
are
mine—"

"You still haven't marked her." Ry strode toward them, his eyes as turbulent as they'd been before. Alice instinctively stepped behind Ian, using him as a buffer to protect her from Ry. The warrior's eyes flashed with darkness as he recognized her retreat. "Trust me, Alice, if you are what I think you are, I'm the one you can count on, not the one who will kill you."

She stiffened. "What do you think I am?" She really hoped it wasn't the angel thing again.

"An angel," Ian was the one who answered. "Ry thinks you're an angel. That's why he's here. Are you?"

Ohhh…this wasn't good. It hadn't been a coincidental term of endearment when he'd called her an angel before. They actually meant it.

Alice looked back and forth between the two men, her heart starting to pound. The cost of exposing her identity was so great. Angels of life weren't allowed to connect with anyone. One job. One loyalty. That was it. She couldn't risk revealing angel secrets to them, but the idea that they already knew made her worried. How did they know? As much as she wanted to find out who they were, why they'd come after her, and why Ian had appeared right at the moment when she'd almost died, she couldn't afford to have them around. She needed to get rid of them, and fast. "I need to go—"

"What? You're not walking out on me." Ian clasped her arm. "I've been searching for you for two months."

Another chill rippled over her. Why had he been searching for her? That couldn't be good. But she didn't have time to engage. Not now. Who knew how long she had until death succeeded in claiming her? Minutes? Hours? Days? She couldn't afford to take the time to interrogate the warriors. "I have to get dressed." She glanced up again at the sky. Still a dark red sky and a turquoise moon, but a clear sky. Desolation flooded her. What would she do if she couldn't get the help of the Mageaan? Seeking their help had been a risky choice, for sure, but without their assistance…how would she find Catherine?

She pulled out of Ian's grasp and hurried toward her stash of clothes on the beach. The third warrior hadn't moved. He was still standing there silently, watching her, and she noticed that he didn't have brands on his forearms. So, not a Calydon. Then what was he? What kind of male would the elite Order of the Blade allow on a mission with them? Her skin prickled as she bent to pick up her clothes, then she froze when he crouched beside her, his shoulder against hers.

"Where is Flynn?" he asked without preamble.

She stared at him, her heart starting to pound at the mention of the man who had betrayed her. The man who had once been her best friend, her only friend, who had killed her two months ago. "I don't know." She looked quickly down the beach, suddenly nervous that Flynn had found her again, but she saw only empty sand.

"I tracked him here." The man leaned closer toward her, his gaze intense. The green glow in his eyes was getting stronger, and she felt the air temperature begin to rise. Was he making it change? What was he? "You have Flynn's blood in your system," he said. "You and he are connected. So, where is he?"

"His blood is in my body?" Fear congealed in her belly. "What are you talking about?"

"Vaughn." Ian's mace was suddenly at the man's throat. "You need to back off. You're giving off a bad vibe right now."

For the second time in five minutes, Alice felt relief as Ian stepped between her and another man. Why was she feeling so many threats right now, and how come Ian seemed to be able to give her peace? It didn't make sense. It shouldn't be able to happen. She shouldn't be able to get peace from anyone. It was forbidden and impossible, at least for her. She was a special angel. For her, there were more rules, more limitations, and so much further to fall.

But there was no mistaking that she felt safer with Ian between her and the other men. Dammit. She had no idea what was going on, and she hated feeling out of control.

Vaughn didn't move away. If anything, he leaned closer to her, ignoring the trickle of blood running down his neck from Ian's mace. "Where is Flynn?" he asked again.

"I don't know," she shot back. "Why would I know?"

"Because he claimed you."

Ian growled, and nausea churned through Alice. "Another man claimed me?" The pressure was mounting from all sides, from all these men, Alice grabbed her underwear and yanked them on, keeping her body hidden beneath the long shirt as she did so. "Flynn hasn't claimed me. He was my best friend until he killed me. I hope to God he doesn't find me again—"

"He will." Vaughn stood up, giving her space as he surveyed their surroundings. "He'll always be able to find you since you carry his blood, just like I tracked you here, thinking it was him." His gaze fixated on the horizon. "He'll be back for you, and I'll be waiting."

Alice stared after him as he walked away, striding slowly across the beach as he scanned the area. Chills ran down her spine, and she swallowed. "That's how you found me?" She looked up at Ian, who had sheathed his mace back into the brand on his arm once Vaughn had left. "He tracked me?"

"Yeah." Ian picked up her shirt from the sand and shook it off. "I owe him. I wasn't getting anywhere on my own, but I gotta say, it makes me a little cranky to think of another man's blood in your system. I'm not good with shit like that."

"I've noticed." Alice grabbed her tank top, flinching when her fingers brushed against Ian's, shocking her. "Why are you hunting me?" She checked the sky again, but no clouds.

"Hunting you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is that what it feels like to you? You think I'm a
threat
?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Flustered by his intensity and her response to it, Alice turned away and tugged his shirt over her head. She tossed it over her shoulder at him without turning around, then pulled her tank top on. The navy blue material was soft and dry against her, and the built-in bra made her feel safer and more protected. She quickly donned her shorts, then carefully zipped the pearl into the front pocket, making sure it was secure. Then she shoved her feet into the flip flops. She grabbed her car keys, clenching them in her fist as she turned back to him. "Listen, Ian, I don't know you at all and—"

"Stop it!" Ian grabbed her upper arms, yanking her against him so her breasts were against his chest. "You're killing me, Alice. I need you to remember me.
I need it.
"

The instant her nipples brushed against him, hot desire flooded her. Not just desire. Need. Yearning. A sensual lust that crawled like hot lava over her skin. It shouldn’t be happening. No man could break through her singular connection to the angelic realm and make her respond to him…and yet there was no way to deny her response. Real fear rippled through her at the realization of how easily this man could destroy everything that mattered to her, including the life of the only person on this earth that she loved.

"Alice. Stop resisting me. It won't work. There's no out."

She stared at him, seeing his commitment to claiming her. He would never let her go, not until he'd destroyed everything. No way. No chance. It didn't matter how fantastic it felt to be kissed by him, to feel responses so human and amazing. It wasn't worth it. She couldn't risk it.

Ian's eyes narrowed in warning, as if he sensed she was about to make a break for it. "Alice—"

"Leave me alone!" She tore herself out of Ian's grasp and sprinted for the ocean, for the water that was her only chance to find Catherine, away from the man who could destroy everything that mattered to her.

Everything.

Chapter Four

And here we go again...

The moment Alice cut Ian off, the damned curse came roaring back, ready to party. Champagne and streamers flew as the "get Ian to kill himself" celebration launched into full gear, a twelve-piece band breaking into a blistering rendition of the "stab yourself in the heart" polka.

Because she hadn't just walked away. Nope, she'd severed their emotional and mental connections as well, leaving him stranded worse than a gnat in the middle of a raging forest fire.

Since Ian had softened his shields so he could connect enough with her to save her life, he now had no safeguards to prop him up when she cut him off. Like a pathetic wuss, he had no answer for the emptiness that assaulted him. Virulent and poisonous, it was as if someone had jammed Ry's machete into his gut and was twisting it around just for shits and giggles.

He did not have time for this crap. Really. He didn't. Ian fisted his hands as he tried to summon the internal walls that would protect him from the destructive emotions that were toasting his anticipated demise. Even though he rebelled against the despair pouring through him, it came anyway, tearing apart his carefully erected protections with the force of a tsunami shredding a defenseless beach. "Alice!" Her name tore from him, ripping the last shreds of his control and thrusting him ruthlessly into the emotional torment of love wrested from the deepest of souls.

Ian lunged forward, trying to catch her as she raced down the beach, but the curse slammed into him, throwing him to his knees, like he was some minion genuflecting to the power of death. Jesus, he was getting tired of this. The curse hadn't gotten to him this badly in months, and yet it had brought him down three times in twenty minutes now that he was near Alice?

Things were definitely not heading in the right direction.

The voice that had killed his ancestors began to swirl though his mind with its annoyingly familiar refrain.
You can't survive without her. It's too much. Too lonely. You must die.

The image of the graveyard that housed all his male ancestors flashed through Ian's mind and he swore. Shit. He was not in the mood to be buried right now. Seriously. "I appreciate the offer, but it doesn't fit in with my plans," he gritted out, fighting to keep a sense of humor, a sense of perspective, a sense of humanity in the face of such debilitating loss.

She's gone
, the voice taunted
. She's dead. You lost her. Alice is gone.

"She's not gone! She's in the ocean twenty yards away, for God's sake. I know it. You know it. So leave me the hell alone." But despite his words, agonizing loneliness filled Ian like he was some sorry-assed, love-struck sap. All he could think about was Alice's green eyes, the depth of pain and fear in her expression when he'd held her as she'd died. Three times she'd died in his arms, taken despite the fact that her own protector had been standing over her. And now she was heading off on her own again, no doubt to another death, because that seemed to be how the woman liked to fill her days. How many times was she going to die?