Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) (23 page)

Yeah, I’m here, Drew.
Vaughn tugged open the closet door and saw rows and rows of expensive shoes and top-of-the-line work boots. In the back, off to the right, was a pair of beat up, steel toed leather boots caked in dirt. Those were his style. He grabbed those and shoved them on his feet. A little big, but workable.
I’m coming for you. You okay there? Any shit going down that I need to know about?

No. I’m safe, I guess.

But scared. Vaughn could hear it in Drew’s voice, and it sent his protective instincts into high gear.
Hang tight, kid. I’m on my way.

Vaughn felt Drew retreat from his mind as he forced his weary body toward the door, willing himself over the exhaustion and the pain. He yanked the door open and nearly crashed into a woman on her way in. He recognized her instantly as the woman who’d been with Quinn when he and Drew had gone to him for help. She was wearing jeans and a pale blue tank top, and her dark hair was tumbling down around her shoulders, so different from the muddy, wet, desperate woman he’d met in the woods that night. “Grace.”

Her silver eyes widened, and then lit up with true delight. “You’re up! That’s fantastic! I was so worried when you didn’t recover and you didn’t heal those wounds. Are you okay? You probably need food. Are you sure you should be up?”

Vaughn stiffened at the genuine affection in her voice, not wanting to get sucked into letting his guard down. “Where’s Drew?”

Grace’s face shifted, and her eyes became sad with empathy. “Oh, Vaughn, you don’t know about Drew yet, do you? We...he’s in trouble. Ezekiel took over his body and disappeared. We’re trying to find him.”

Vaughn closed his eyes at the sudden wash of grief. “Ezekiel possessed him?” Young Drew? Possessed by a bastard who was the end of life? Vaughn forced his eyes open and concentrated on reading every nuance on Grace’s face. “What happened?”

“We don’t know exactly. Frank performed a rite and used Drew as the center of it, and then it was Ezekiel looking out of his eyes, not Drew.”

Vaughn struggled to keep his face neutral. “So, where is Ezekiel’s body, then?”

She shrugged. “I guess it’s still in the prison. I don’t know.”

“Then I’m going to the prison. Where is it?”

Her eyes suddenly became wary. “Maybe I should call Quinn.”

He could tell by the way she tilted her head that she was already calling her mate.

Vaughn remembered Drew’s confidence in the Order, his command to trust them, and he forced himself to wait, shifting his weight restlessly to take the pressure off his aching legs. Taking anything out on the innocent woman before him wasn’t his style, and he’d give her time. If Zach showed up though, he owed the bastard big time. As for Quinn, Vaughn would reserve judgment. Quinn had seemed decent, and he’d liked the guy well enough.

Unless Drew died, and then there would be no mercy.

Not for anyone associated with the Order.

Vaughn’s gaze went to Grace. Not even for their women. Everyone would pay if something happened to his son.

Grace gave a slight nod, and then her silver gaze focused on Vaughn again, apparently finishing the discussion with her mate. “Quinn isn’t available at the moment. There have been a lot of rogue Calydons lately, and he’s in the middle of a fight with several of them right now, but he said he completely failed you in all ways after you trusted him and he...” She gave a little eye roll of apology. “He said he feels like complete shit about it and anything you want or need from him or the Order is yours.” She smiled, her eyes still empathetic. “He also says he doesn’t believe Drew is dead, and he’s not giving up.”

Vaughn grunted, not mollified by the apology. Not until he could look into Quinn’s eyes and see true regret. Not until he knew Drew was safe.

Grace touched his arm, her brilliant eyes vibrating with emotions. “Vaughn, I’m so very sorry about Drew. He’s too innocent to be caught up in this, and I can tell how deeply you care about him. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. He is a good young man, and I want him back safely, too.”

Vaughn felt his throat tighten at the genuine empathy in her voice, and knew that Grace had just bought herself a free ride if he were forced to come back to the Order and make them pay for Drew’s death. “Thanks.” His voice was gruffer than he’d intended, but Grace’s smile suggested she didn’t care.

She was kind. Too kind to be hanging out with a bunch of murderous bastards. She was kind the way Nell had been. And Nell had been no match for the Order member who’d entered her life and fathered Drew. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Grace’s eyebrows went up. “Here where?”

“With the Order.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “They’re good males. Quinn will stand by you.” Her tone had shifted, making it clear she’d accept no negative statements about the Order, and Vaughn capitulated. It wasn’t his job to rescue her. He had only one mission and that was Drew.

Grace gave him another smile, but this one was tempered, and he knew she no longer completely trusted him. “There are car keys in the kitchen. Help yourself to a truck and some food while I write down directions to the prison for you.” She frowned at him. “Do you need assistance getting down the stairs?”

“Hell, no.” He palmed the wall, leaning heavily against it as he made his way down the hall.

“No? Really?” She smiled then, a radiant smile full of laughter that made him blink. “You’d get along great with Quinn. Give him a chance, tough guy.” Still laughing, she tucked her hand around his arm and helped him toward the stairs, already giving him directions to the prison and filling him in on what had happened while he was recovering.

By the time Vaughn was on the road twenty minutes later, he knew he was playing in waters he had no business swimming in.

And he knew he had no choice.

Elijah held out his throwing star to her. “Try it.”

Ana hesitated, staring at the weapon that defined him, the one that had chosen Elijah so many hundreds of years ago. No one else could wield that weapon, and she was sure no one had touched it besides him in centuries. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Elijah took her hand and then set the weapon into it, closing her fingers over it.

Her heart began to race as she traced her thumb over the intricate design in the steel. It felt heavy, as if the weight of the thousands of deaths it had caused were carved into the metal. It was cold in her hand, the blades sharp. So much power, so much strength, so much force in it. All the things that she hadn’t possessed in her life. If she’d had it, she could have defended herself, and no one would have had to die for her. “This feels amazing.”

Elijah grinned, a possessive gleam in his eyes. “It’s sexy as hell to see you holding my weapon.” He slid his hand up her arm, his caress decadently sensual as it slid over the mark in her skin.

She swallowed. “I like it,” she whispered. “I like how it makes me feel.”

“Yeah, me too.” His eyes were hooded and dark, his voice husky as he took her hand again. His fingers seemed to sear her skin. “Hold it like this so none of the blades dig into your skin.” He shifted the star in her hand, his grip temptingly strong as he closed her fingers around it. “Like that.”

Ana tested her grip on the star, and it felt right in her hand, as if it were a part of her. “I’ve never used a weapon before, but I feel like I know how to use this one.” Her entire body was vibrating with the excitement of holding it, of feeling it bending to her will. She could almost feel her spirit meshing with it, weaving it into the fabric of her being. It called to her, made her want to make it hers, to cement her connection with it. A small tree stood nearby, and she knew that was her tree, the offering from the earth to serve as the conduit to seal her connection with the weapon.

Ana tightened her grip, honed in on a knothole in the trunk, and then brought her arm back to throw it—

“No.” Elijah caught her arm before she could release it, his eyes blazing with lust. “One of the stages is my weapon recognizing you and allowing you to use it. Let’s not go down that path.”

“What?” It took her a full minute to pull herself back from the magic of Elijah’s throwing star. “Oh, wow.” The shiny metal felt alive in her hand, and she realized that was how it must feel to Elijah. The weapon was an extension of him, responding to his thoughts and emotions, taking direction not only from how he threw it, but also from where his mind wanted it to go. “I knew that, and I would have done it anyway. I would have thrown it.” The urge to throw it was still pulsing through her. “It wants me to throw it.”

A low groan erupted from Elijah’s throat, sending vibrations rumbling through her. “No, that’s me you’re sensing.”

Ana’s entire body throbbed at the intensity in his green eyes. “You want me to throw it? But you just said it was a mistake.”

“Sweetheart, it is a mistake.” He moved closer, his arm snaking around her waist. “Six hundred years of Calydon instincts are fighting hard to get me to bond you tighter and make you mine so no male can ever touch you or take you from me. I want to brand you with my mark and my scent and tie you to me so tightly that you can never leave. I want you to throw that star with every fiber of my soul.”

Ana’s mouth went dry as she stared up at him, his lips only inches from hers. “You do?”

“Yeah. But so far, I’m managing to resist. But if you keep fondling my throwing star like it’s a certain part of my anatomy—” He grimaced.

She stopped sliding her thumb along the edge of one of the blades, her cheeks heating when she realized she’d been doing it and fantasizing that it was Elijah’s— “I see your point.”

He eased back from her, though he kept his arm firmly anchored around her waist. “Just tap it against the wall,” he said. “Let’s try to keep it at that.”

“Right.” Ana tapped the star against the wall, and it bounced off like the rock had. “It’s not working.”

“Hang on.” Elijah moved behind her and pressed his body up against hers so she could feel the heat of him from her shoulders to her thighs. He put his hands beneath her shirt and flattened them on her stomach and nestled his face through her hair until his lips were hot on her neck.

Heat pulsed between her thighs, and she felt his erection pressing against her backside. “Um, Elijah? How is this resisting?”

“Trust me, if I wasn’t resisting, you’d be naked by now.”

An image flashed through her mind of his naked body against hers, of his skin sliding over her belly… “Then what are you doing?”