Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade) (11 page)

She didn't lower the bow, and her eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?" she asked sharply. It was a challenge, not an inquiry.

"Have you heard of a Calydon named José Vasquez? Some sort of fire god?" Zach didn't miss the flash of absolute terror across her face, and he saw her shoulders convulse with sudden tension.

That was all the warning he got before she unleashed the arrow at his head. Swearing, he dove to the right. The arrow skimmed the side of his head, cleaving a small furrow in his flesh. By the time he was on his feet, there was already another arrow in her bow and she was pulling back the string.

"Hey!" he shouted as he called out his sai with a crack and a flash of black light. "I'm not here to hurt you!"

Not even hesitating, she released the arrow again. This time, he managed to get behind a tree. Somehow, she had anticipated his move and the arrow seemed to follow him as if it were tracking directly to his heart. It went straight through the trunk of the tree and out the other side. He leapt back as the tip of it emerged out of the wood. It came to a stop with more than eighteen inches of it protruding from the backside of the tree, the tip less than a millimeter from his throat.

Damn. She was good. He liked that. All the better to have on his team.

Adrenaline pounded through him as he dove silently to the right, sliding behind a bush as he readied his sai. But when he came up, she was gone.

He went still, searching with his preternatural senses, trying to find her. There was silence, too much silence. The birds had gone quiet. The animals had stopped moving. Even the wind seemed to have stilled. His skin prickled in awareness and he went down on one knee, poised to attack as he searched the woods around him for the cause of the forest's reaction.

There was a heavy weight in the air, the same malevolence that he'd felt the night before around the campfire. He knew without a doubt that the evil wasn't coming from the woman. She had fought him out of fear and desperation, not out of evil. Something else had joined them in these woods.

Something that might have been hunting her.

The thought that this evil had grabbed her made something inside him clench, a gut wrenching tension that actually hurt. His instinct was to leap to his feet and race after her, even though he had no idea which way she'd gone. Instead, he eased up, keeping his mind utterly quiet as he reached out in all directions, searching for the sound, the scent, or the movement that would tell him what he needed to know.

For a moment, he sensed nothing but the void that the jungle had become. And still he didn't move. He was too seasoned to react prematurely, and he knew that whatever it was still had to be close by. It would have to move eventually, and then he'd track it.

After what felt like an eternity of agonizing wait, but was probably less than five seconds, he heard a faint grunt of pain from his right. It was a masculine grunt, the sound of a man. Zach was on the move within a millisecond, sprinting almost silently through the forest as he hurtled toward his prey.

Rhiannon gasped as she was grabbed from behind. This time, it wasn't simply a hand on her shoulder. This time, she was torn ruthlessly off her feet and jerked backward. She fought for balance as she fell, and then saw who had grabbed her. One of José's Calydons.
Luther.

Fear leapt through her, but she didn't freeze this time, unlike when she'd been attacked in her apartment and been momentarily paralyzed with terror. She felt different in these woods, and old instincts rose fast. She slammed her palm into his throat with as much force as she could summon, even as her other hand went to her hip for her dagger. He let out a grunt of pain as her fingers closed over the hilt of her weapon. She whipped it free and drove it upward—

He slammed his fist down on the back of her hand, knocking the dagger from her grasp. She lunged for it as it fell toward the earth, but he jerked her back and threw her over his shoulder. She gasped as she landed on his muscular shoulder, his rock-hard body knocking the breath out of her.

For a moment, all she could do was hang onto him as she fought for air. Her hand was numb where he'd hit it, her fingers throbbing uselessly.

That one moment of her recovery was all he needed. His arms locked around her like steel cords, and he broke into a run, sprinting through the jungle, taking her toward José. "Stop, Luther," she shouted. "Let me go!"

He didn't even slow, and he didn't loosen his grip. Of course he wouldn't. Luther was as ruthless as the rest of them, almost like an automaton following José's orders. There was no humanity in him. No mercy. "I'm not his," she screamed as she slammed her elbow into the base of his skull. It was the only place she could reach, and he stumbled. She hit him again, and then he grabbed her hair, jerking so hard to the side that her neck felt like it was going to snap in half.

A scream leaked from her throat, and she grabbed at her hair, trying to stop the pain. Tears pricked her eyes as she fought to stay conscious. And still, he pulled harder, each step he took twisting her body even more painfully. She knew she was going to pass out, or he was going to break her neck, whichever one came first. He wouldn't let go until he had her at his mercy.

Tears burned in her eyes, and she summoned self-discipline she hadn't had to call upon since she'd escaped from José the first time. Willing herself not to feel the pain, she let her hand drop from his, and forced her body to go completely limp. The pain was extraordinary, but she closed her eyes, willing her mind to that place she used to go when she didn't want to experience what was happening to her. For an excruciating moment, the pain became almost too much to bear, and then suddenly Luther relaxed his grip on her, apparently concluding that she'd passed out.

He waited another moment, as if to be certain she wasn't faking it, and then he let go of her hair entirely. Her head flopped back toward where it was supposed to be, mercifully taking the pressure off her neck. She forced herself to stay relaxed, and let her head bounce against his bare back. She felt his sweat against her cheek, and the scent of man seemed to rise all around her. The heat from his body burned through her clothes everywhere she touched him, and she wanted to throw up at the feel of a man's body against hers. Her instincts were screaming at her to fight, but she knew her only chance to escape was to be patient. She would have one opportunity, and he had to be completely unprepared for her to make a break for it.

As each step took them closer and closer to José, bile built in her throat. Somehow, she forced herself to stay limp, making her body as heavy as she could as he ran. With each step, she let her arms bounce further down his back, allowing her body to slide just a little lower, so subtly he would think it was nothing but gravity at work on an unconscious woman.

She felt his muscles relax even further as he turned his attention to where he was going, no longer worrying about restraining her. He leapt over a fallen tree trunk with ease, a brutal reminder of just how physically dominating José's warriors were. He landed easily, but that slight jarring was just enough to make her slide in his relaxed and slightly sweaty arms, giving her the extra two inches she needed. She moved instantly, slamming her hand between his legs. The camouflage pants he wore gave him no protection as she grabbed his balls and twisted violently, mercilessly attacking the only vulnerable spot on him.

He howled with pain and stumbled, pitching forward as he grabbed his crotch with both hands. Instantly, she ripped herself out of his arms. She landed hard on the ground, and then lunged to her feet—

"Bitch!" He grabbed her ankle and jerked hard, yanking her off balance.

She fell to the ground, and he was on her, his hands around her throat. She gasped, fighting for air as she clawed at his hands, but already, she could feel her mind starting to blacken as he cut off her oxygen. Fear ripped through her, terror at what would happen to her if he rendered her unconscious. She was more scared of being unconscious around José and his warriors than anything else, because the horrors that she had awoken to so many times were more than she could cope with, the stuff that had been haunting her nightmares for so long. Her survival instinct kicked in now, a frantic unthinking defense to save her own life. She kicked and punched violently, fighting him hard now, using every trick she knew to get away, but it was obvious she had no chance. She simply wasn't as strong as he was, and she was out of practice from so many years away from the jungle.

He grinned at her, those green eyes hard and cold as he watched her struggle, barely needing to expend any effort to hold her there as his fingers tightened around her throat. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she felt the weight of his body pressing into her, shoving her into the ground, trapping her.
No!
She screamed her protest in her mind, even as the forest began to spin. Dear God. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought she could come back and win? She turned her head to the side, trying to find an opening in his grip to breathe, but he was applying too much pressure. Weakness pervaded her body, and her hands fell to her side as the oxygen deprivation rendered her useless.

Hopelessly, she met his gaze, and she knew that the life she had fled from before was nothing compared to what awaited her in punishment for the fact she tried to kill José and then had fled. She knew she couldn't endure it again, but even as she thought it, she knew she would have to. No matter how weak she became, José would never push her to the point that she died, because then all the fun would end.

Weakly, she grabbed Luther's wrist, trying one last time to escape, a useless gesture borne from the instinct to survive. But it was no use. She was his once again—

Just as her eyes started to close, she saw the flash of a slick, three-pointed steel weapon slam into Luther's chest. His eyes widened, and his hands grabbed at what looked like a giant fork lodged in his body. He released her with one hand to yank it free, but then another identical weapon slammed into the side of his head. He flew back, literally lifted off her and flung backwards by the force of the blow.

Rhiannon gasped, sucking air back into her lungs as she rolled onto her side, coughing and clutching her neck. She knew she should get up and run, and she tried to pull herself to her knees, but the world began to spin again. She had no choice but to bow her head, and close her eyes, digging her fingers into the earth as she fought not to collapse.

She heard footsteps racing toward her, and fear drove her muscles to react. She lurched forward, trying to stand up. She made it halfway up, and then fell, lurching forward—

Strong hands caught her, keeping her on her feet. She jerked her gaze up, and she found herself staring into the eyes of the Calydon she'd stabbed only moments before encountering Luther. She instinctively reached for her hip, but her dagger was gone. Oh, God—

He gripped her shoulders more tightly. "My name is Zach Roderick. I'm not going to hurt you." He jerked his head toward the Calydon sprawled on the ground behind her. "I'm not one of those pieces of shit," he said. "I'm not even from this damned jungle. I just need to save my friend and get the hell home." His gaze drifted down to her neck, and she knew there would be dark bruises forming. His mouth thinned, and his voice dropped about two octaves, a dangerous, lethal tone that sent shivers down her spine. "And apparently, I need to save you as well."

He didn't have a regional accent, none of the intonations of a man who had made this jungle his home, and his eyes… Now that she could see them up close, she could see that his eyes were alive with expression, not the merciless pits of violence she was used to. Then she stiffened. What was she thinking? He was a Calydon. Did she need to know more? "I don't need saving," she snapped as she pushed back from him, swaying slightly as she tried to find her balance. Her head was pounding, her muscles shaking violently, and her neck hurt terribly, but she was not going to lean on him, or anyone else.

"No?" He cocked an eyebrow and brushed the tip of his finger over her throat. His touch was light, almost gentle, and for a split second, she was too shocked to pull away. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and go utterly still, absorbing the feel of his hand on her throat. It almost felt as though he were taking away the pain, and soothing the damage. His touch felt
kind.
Tears suddenly burned in her eyes, emotion welling up from that place inside her that she worked so hard to keep locked tightly up.

She quickly pulled back, putting her hand over her neck as if that simple gesture would protect her from him. God, no, she couldn't make that mistake again. She couldn't trust a man, and never a Calydon. "No," she whispered. "Never touch me."

His forehead furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. "I won't hurt you."

She shook her head. "I need to go." She realized suddenly that she wasn't holding her crossbow either, and her quiver was no longer strapped over her back, which meant she was completely unarmed.

She whirled away from her rescuer, quickly scanning the woods around them. None of her weapons were there. "Oh, no," she whispered, panic starting to build as she began to retrace their steps. The branches were cracked and broken from their battle, and she hurried back along the path they'd left.

"Looking for this?"

She whirled around to see her rescuer holding up her cache. In his right hand were her dagger and her crossbow, and in his left was her quiver, the strap broken. She went still, horrified. He was taunting her with her weapons, knowing that she would never be able to take them away from him.

He shook his head in apparent amazement. "You really think I'm not going to give these to you?" He tossed them gently at her feet. First the dagger, which she lunged for and grabbed instantly. His expression was inscrutable as he lobbed the crossbow at her feet, followed by the quiver.