Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade) (19 page)

Then the wind died as suddenly as it had begun, and she dropped her hand. "I can't do it," she whispered.

"Do what?"

She looked over at him, and he was shocked by the absolute exhaustion in her eyes. No longer did she look like the fierce warrior who had unleashed an arrow at his forehead. She looked like a woman who had been pushed beyond what she could handle. He moved closer to her, angling his body so he was between her and the trees. He reached for her shoulder, and then stopped himself when she jerked back, out of his reach, new fear flashing in her eyes.

Growling, he let his hand drop, anger fermenting inside him at the bastard who had taught her to be afraid of a man's touch. "What are you trying to do? What would stop them?"

She shook her head. "It's not going to work—"

"Tell me," he demanded. He could hear the forest coming alive as the night creatures awoke, and he knew damn well that Rhiannon was not up to another battle right now. He was all for a good fight, but with Thano's life at stake, he wasn't interested in jumping into a war that he didn't know how to win. Now was not the time to fight. Now was the time to go to ground. "What are you trying to do?"

She stared at him. "I can't—"

"Tell me!"

"Fine!" Anger flared in her eyes. "As I told you earlier, I used to be able to communicate with the vegetation in the forest. I was asking it to weave protections around us, but I can't do it! If I'm not focused, I can't do it, and I—" She shook her head, and all the fight seemed to drain out of her. "I can't do it when I'm scared," she admitted softly, shrugging her shoulders in a show of ultimate defeat. "Or tired, but especially scared."

He could feel what it had cost her to admit she was scared. For a warrior to admit fear was almost impossible. To allow fear to become so great that it affected one's ability to fight was the kiss of death, and he could tell that she knew it. Of course she knew it. Whatever else Rhiannon was, she was a warrior as much as he was. Something inside him softened at her vulnerability, and he had a sudden urge to pull her into his arms and promise her that he would take care of her.

He'd made that promise before to someone he'd loved, and he'd failed them. He would never make a promise like that again, no matter how badly he wanted to. Rhiannon should never truly trust him, not with her life. "We'll be okay," he said instead. "I won't sleep. I'll be ready."

She shook her head. "We won't survive the night out here," she said quietly. "Can't you feel the jungle's energy? The animals are carrying messages through the night. It will be only a matter of time before they find us." She turned away, reset the arrow on the bow, and faced the night. "I was such a fool to think I could come back here and win," she muttered.

Zach's eyes narrowed. "Fuck that," he said quietly.

She looked back at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "What?"

"If we die tonight, then there's no one left to save Thano. So, I said, fuck that. If you can save us, then you need to do it."

"Weren't you listening? I can't do it—"

"Yes, you can." He strode over to her and jerked the bow out of her hand, ignoring her squawk of protest. "Fear debilitates," he said. "So, you need to drop the fear,
now.
"

She stared at him. "What is wrong with you? It's not that easy to do—"

"You're a coward," he snarled, intentionally pushing her to the limit, trying to stir up enough anger to overshadow the fear. Anger was one of the few emotions powerful enough to trump terror. "You're going to let us die because you're afraid? What the fuck is that?"

She stared at him, and he saw the anger beginning to simmer in her dark eyes, and he knew he was choosing the right tactic for their survival. "I'm not a coward," she bit at him. "It's just that—"

"You're afraid. There's not a damn thing in this circle right now except you and me, nothing to hurt you, and you're sitting there like some fragile flower afraid of being crushed." He felt like shit riding her so hard, but he knew they had no choice. If she could save them, then she needed to do it. Hell, maybe he could get himself angry enough to make his fire come back as well. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Hey!" She spun toward him and shoved at his chest, her palm slamming against his shirt. "Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Her fingers tightened around her dagger, and for a split second, he wondered if he had pushed her too far.

The last thing he wanted was another knife in his chest right now.

Then again, if it gave her back her connection with the plants, he'd take the knife. He knew what it felt like to lose a part of what defined you, and the knife would be a small price to pay to help her overcome her trauma.

Hell, he'd take a knife to his balls if it would give him back his fire to save Thano.

Well, maybe not to his balls…but then again, to save Thano's life?

That was a choice he hoped he was never going to have to make, but from the shocked look on her face, and the way her fingers were digging into his chest, he had a bad feeling that the knife in the chest was about to be repeated.

He stiffened, preparing himself to take the blow. Whatever it took to save her and Thano, he was ready.

Rhiannon froze the moment she felt Zach's chest under her bare hand. Fear exploded through her, but at the same time, she couldn't make herself pull away. She just froze, one hand on his chest and the other suspended over the hilt of her dagger, overwhelmed by the sensation of touching him.

For a moment, she let herself be consumed by the feel of his body beneath her hand. His chest was warm. His muscles were hard beneath the softness of his shirt. Heat rose from his flesh, caressing her palm with a promise of passion and connection. It felt so intense and amazing that she didn't want to move. Ever. She just wanted to stand there and lose herself in the enormity of his being.

Her fear vanished, and her anger faded, until there was nothing left but the steady thud of his heart beneath her palm, and his marvelous scent wrapping around her. She looked up at him, and saw that he was watching her intently. She flushed at the heat in his gaze, and her throat tightened when she saw him glance at her mouth, as if he were as affected as she was. What if he kissed her? Would she still be afraid? Would she want to run away or stab him? Or would it feel amazing and wonderful, like the kisses she'd dreamed of as a little girl? Would it be that magic that enfolded her in a web of seduction and desire, so beautiful that it chased away all the darkness in her soul?

She wanted him, she realized. Not just for a kiss. She wanted him to slide her shirt over her head, kiss his way over her body, across her breasts, down her belly to her—

She gasped suddenly, stepping back in shock as she realized that her need to touch him felt just as strong as her compulsion to touch José had been when she'd first met him. Dear God, not again! She recoiled in terror, fighting to free herself from his spell. Instinctively, she went for her dagger again, but Zach grabbed her wrist. His fingers were like steel around her arm, and she jerked back, all anger forgotten, obliterated by the sudden crash of fear. "Let go of me—"

"No." He followed her movement as she pulled back, not fighting her retreat, but moving with her instead. He didn't release her wrist, and he didn't give her space. "You're going to deal with this now." His grip was firm, but his voice was gentle. "I'll help you. We'll do this together."

She barely heard his words as panic closed in around her. All she could think about was that she was trapped by him. "Stop it!" Terror began to bleed through her mind, shattering her focus. Suddenly, it wasn't Zach holding her. It was José, leering down at her, knowing that she had no chance to stop him or even refuse him. She lost all ability for rational thought and went into panic mode, striking out blindly with as much strength as she could muster. She heard the grunt as she made contact with flesh, then steel-corded arms closed around her, locking her down. "No!" The scream tore from her throat, an inhuman scream of terror that seemed to rip from her body, tearing all sanity from her. "Not again—"

"It's me." A low, male voice whispered against her ear, a voice that was devoid of the edge that had hurt her so many times. "It's Zach. I'm not going to hurt you, Rhiannon. You don't have to fight."

Zach?
Zach?
His words seemed to hover somewhere on the outside of her terror, but she couldn't process them. All she could think of was the arms around her, trapping her, holding her captive. Terror screamed through her, and she fought harder. She kicked. She punched. She scratched. She twisted. She did everything she knew, and still he held her tight.

"Rhiannon," he said again, his voice still quiet and calm. "I'm not going to hurt you. Let yourself see that. I swore to protect you, even if that means I have to protect you from yourself." Again and again, she heard that voice, a deep-male voice that never deviated from its non-threatening demeanor as he kept talking to her, but she knew she couldn't trust it, knew she couldn't stop fighting and fighting...and fighting...

Until she had nothing left to fight with.

Finally, agonizingly, she sagged in his arms, too drained to fight a second longer, exhausted. She was at his mercy. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear still slid out of the corner of her eye, a tear that revealed too much about the weak, vulnerable woman she tried so desperately not to be.

But his arms didn't tighten cruelly around her now that she couldn't fight back. He just continued to hold her gently, securely enough that she couldn't break free, but not enough to hurt her, not at all. "Rhiannon," he said again, in that same gentle voice. "Look at me."

How many times had José demanded that?
Look at me, Rhiannon! You will see who owns you. Now!
She shuddered and closed her eyes tighter, trying to drown out that voice that haunted her so ruthlessly. Her body was shaking violently, drained of all resources by her useless, frantic battle for freedom. She could barely even stand up, but the fear still pounded at her, augmented by the realization that she didn't have the strength to fight back.

"Rhiannon." Again, Zach spoke. "It's safe now. Open your eyes and see who is holding you. Trust this moment."

Trust.
Trust.
That one word seemed to dive deep into her soul, ripping her away from the terror gripping her so tightly.

That was not a word that José had ever used. He didn't care about trust. He didn't even know what it was. It had been so long since she'd felt safe enough to trust, so long since she'd even registered that the concept existed, it felt like Zach's words had reached into the dark recesses of her being to pry free something that had once been a part of her. Something about the choice of that specific word seemed to crack the grip that the fear had on her. She finally began to grasp that this was different. Zach had made a request for her to face him. It had not been an order.
It was different.

Slowly, she forced herself to open her eyes, and then instantly recoiled when she saw Zach's grim face inches from hers, in her space.

He didn't move, or release her, forcing her to face him. "It's me," he said softly. "I'm the one who saved you from the bad guy, remember?"

Again, the kindness in his voice touched a chord deep inside her, and the blinding fear began to abate enough for her to actually see
him
and not the monster in her mind. She stared at him, trying to drink in all that he was. His hair was short, but a little disheveled, and his cheekbones were defined, as if his face had been hardened by many battles. His eyes were dark and moody, and heavy whiskers lined his jaw, but there was a kindness about his visage that made her chest tighten. Maybe it was the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, or the concerned furrow to his brow. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was no doubt that she sensed there was something good and humane about the man who was holding her.

Guilt echoed through her as she began to notice the injuries she'd inflicted upon him. There were several cuts on his brow bone, blood was trickling down his temple, and he even had a black eye. She'd done all that to him, and he'd never struck back. Not once. Not one spot on her body was throbbing or aching, and she knew that somehow he'd absorbed all her blows and contained her without inflicting so much as a bruise upon her.

She swallowed, suddenly wanting to touch his damaged flesh and take away the pain she'd caused him, but her hand fisted at the thought. Never could she bring herself to touch him voluntarily, and why would she? He had to be angry with her for hurting him. The thought sent a ripple of tension through her as she realized a reprisal would be coming, but before she could react, he spoke, but not about what she'd done to him.

"Don't let him win."

His words were simple, so simple, but something about them struck deep into her heart like an arrow honed to a razor sharp edge.
Don't let him win,
as if there was really a chance she could defeat José, not just in the end, but in this moment. As if there was a way to purge him from her mind and her soul and free herself from the damage that she felt she could never escape. God, was there really a chance? Her lungs suddenly expanded in a deep inhale of shaky relief, the air shuddering through her. Her legs went numb, and she sagged to the ground.

Zach eased down with her, crouching beside her as he set her gently on the floor of the jungle. His eyes were riveted to hers, and there was no aggression there. None at all. Just concern. He was still holding her, but for some reason, his arms didn't feel as threatening anymore. She was actually experiencing an almost unrecognizable sense of safety, as if those huge muscles were weapons at her disposal that she could launch at any enemy who tried to get her.

"Can you focus on me for a second?" Zach asked, a low urgency in his even tone.