Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) (9 page)

His marks were still burning in her skin, reminding her of their bond.

He gave her a hooded look, his eyes shadowed and exhausted. “Not sure how I’m going to take a shower like this.” He nodded at the way she was pressed up against him, and she saw the tick of frustration in his jaw.

She realized he wanted privacy. From her. She bit her lip at the acknowledgement. When would a Calydon ever want space from his
sheva?
It didn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen. He might know in his gut that distance was the right thing, but he could never actually make himself seek it or allow it. But Elijah’s antipathy to her was so strong that he was able to overrule the
sheva
attraction.

Wow, that was a blow to the ego, even if she deserved it. Sudden loneliness assaulted her, the same feelings that had haunted her for her whole life, only now they seemed to dig so much deeper, hurt more after the magic of her brief connection with Elijah. To retreat back into the solitary place she kept herself for so long suddenly felt incredibly difficult.

She managed a smile. “Well, maybe I can wait outside the shower. Maybe the blood bond gave us a little more breathing room.” She carefully lifted his arm off her shoulder, even as her heart screamed not to leave him, not to abandon him, not to let him down. Damned
sheva
bond! She paused when Elijah stiffened. “Don’t worry, if you start to relapse, I’ll touch you again. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not worried,” he growled, but she saw the grim awareness in his dark eyes of what might happen.

God, it was too difficult to be like this. To have to be close to him, to be craving his touch and his connection so badly, and still hold herself aloof, to feel the distance he was putting between them. Being with him made her forget she was supposed to be strong. It made her wish away the vow she’d made to herself so long ago, that she would never put anyone in the position of sacrificing themselves for her well-being, that she would never draw someone into her web of destruction. Elijah’s strength and honor, the tenderness of his voice, it was all preying on her vulnerability, on a lifetime of yearning for that which she could never have.

She had to get away. She had to take her space back. She had to remember that her only goal was to fix what she’d broken when she’d caused so much harm and damage with her illusions. To help the Order stop the hell she had helped unleash. She wasn’t here to prey upon Elijah’s vulnerability and reel him into her spell. Never would she do that to him.

Ana lifted her chin, rebuilding the shields around her heart as she stepped back from Elijah, still holding tight to his arm. “Is this okay?”

He tensed, but his gaze was clear and alert as he locked onto her face, as if she was his anchor toward all things good. “Yeah, good. Let go of me.”

Let go.
Of course he wanted her to let go of him. Biting her lip, she loosened her grip and lifted her hand off him—

Panic flared in his eyes and he grabbed her instantly, hauling her up against him so fiercely she felt his torment beating at her everywhere they touched. He swore, his face even more ashen. “Not ready to go there yet.”

He grimaced with frustration, and she understood. He was a Calydon warrior, a lethal enemy, and he was too weak to stand on his own, unable to function without holding onto his
sheva
. Humiliating at best, a lethal weakness at worst.

His one good leg was shaking now, and Ana realized he didn’t have much time until he collapsed. “Do you want me to stand outside the shower and give you privacy, then?”

Heat flared in his eyes, and his gaze fastened on her mouth. Desire pulsed through her, and tightened in her lower belly, and suddenly the air between them thickened with sensual heat and ever-tightening lust. He grabbed the back of her hair and she barely had time to suck in her breath before his mouth descended upon hers.

His lips were decadently hot, his kisses so tender and seductive, nothing like the raging domination of earlier. This kiss was the foreplay of a lover’s seduction, the gradual build of heat and sensuality, designed to foster a slow simmer in the deepest part of her soul. Vulnerability and fear flared through her, fear for how intense her response was to him, for how visceral her need was. She wanted to bury herself in him, feel his spirit wrap around her, succumb to the intensity of emotions he was summoning inside her.

Elijah growled and kissed her deeper. He grabbed her around the hips and—”Shit!” He started to slide down the wall, losing his balance. He broke the kiss and grabbed for the shower curtain bar. Ana held his arm, helping him stabilize.

Elijah groaned as he propped himself back against the wall. “Damn. The day I become too weak to seduce my own
sheva
is not a good day.”

She laughed softly, her heart still hammering from the kiss. That kiss had been so different than the others. Before, the kiss had been his salvation, a desperate attempt to bring him back from the edge. This time, it had been a deliberate seduction by a man who was completely clear about what he was doing, and that truth sent heat spiraling all the way through her. “It’s a good thing you’re too weak.”

He raised his brows at her. “Why?”

“Because I can’t resist you.”

He grinned then, the slow, decadent grin of a man who was immensely satisfied with himself. “Good.”

Excitement flared through Ana, and confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that? I thought I repulse you?” Hadn’t they gotten that all established between them? That was their safe zone, the place she needed to be.

“Repulse?” His gaze was heated as he looked at her. There was exhaustion in his eyes, but there was no mistaking the fire burning in there as well. “No chance of that.”

Sudden yearning flared inside her, an aching so powerful it actually hurt. Ana shook her head, pulling back from dreams and hopes she had no business contemplating. “I’ll just stand outside the shower and give you privacy.” She slid her hand down his arm and gripped his wrist, then stepped out of the shower. She turned on the water, then yanked the curtain shut.

She leaned back against the wall, trying to catch her breath as the water beat down on her arm. It didn’t matter how much she yearned for Elijah. She had to be stronger than that. Between the
sheva
destiny and her own illusions, she was Elijah’s doom in so many ways. He might want her because of the
sheva
bond, but she would never let him sacrifice himself for her. She would not allow him to doom himself by connecting himself to a woman he was forced to respond to by a greater power, a woman he would never choose on his own.

Too many people had died because of her. Elijah couldn’t be another. She couldn’t let that happen. God, she owed him so much. “Elijah? I have to apologize.”

“For what?” His voice was cautious, tired, the energy of their physical connection already fading, leaving behind the man who was barely hanging on.

She bit her lip, studying the muted beige towels in the bathroom. “For getting you killed.” She took a deep breath. “I know you hate me. I can tell my touch disgusts you, and I’m so sorry for that.” She hesitated, recalling how that revulsion had flashed in his eyes when they’d first met,
before
she’d gotten him killed. No Calydon should be repulsed by his
sheva
on any level. It was impossible...and yet it had happened. She was sure it had to do with the fact she was an Illusionist. What had he suffered from Illusionists before he’d met her? She wanted to help him, to beat back the madness trying to engulf him, and to do that, she needed to understand everything that had happened to him. Had it all been her? Or had there been more? “What happened to you, Elijah? Before we met?”

He said nothing.

“Elijah?”

Still no response.

With a frown, she tugged open the shower curtain and peeked inside.

He was leaning against the wall of the shower, his eyes closed as the hot water beat down on him, barely making a dent in the crusted blood and dirt still clinging to his skin, but he was making no attempt to scrub himself. He looked like a man who had nothing left. Worry prickled through her. “Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. They were shadowed and exhausted. “When I close my eyes, I—” He stopped talking.

“You what?”

He shook his head, and that small movement almost made him lose his balance. All his weight was on his right leg, his left one hanging limply, and there was the faint hint of blood at the corners of his mouth. Blood she didn’t think was hers from their kiss. She thought of the blade that had sunk into his kidney, and she shuddered. Calydons healed well, but Elijah had been abused so badly. She realized he didn’t have long before he collapsed. He had to go into the healing sleep soon.

He would die unless he could heal himself, and he couldn’t heal himself properly with all the dirt in his wounds. Enough with the moments of lust and desire. He needed her help.

She pulled the shower curtain back, grabbed a washcloth from the rack and a bar of soap. “Let me help.”

“No.” He gestured with his hand again. “Just come here.”

She hesitantly stepped into the shower, the spray instantly drenching her clothes. As she moved in front of him, he hooked his finger through a belt loop on her jeans and tugged gently. She let him pull her close, and then was shocked when he bent his head and let his forehead rest against hers.

He said nothing, but tears filled her eyes at the intimacy of the gesture. It was the utter capitulation of a warrior who had probably never succumbed to physical limitations in his entire existence. Elijah was done, and he was allowing her to see it, trusting her with the truth of his weakness and exhaustion, a vulnerability he’d tried so hard to hide from the other Order members, men who’d been by his side for five hundred years.

For them, he was the hero.

For her, he was himself.

She pressed her lips against his forehead, overwhelmed by his faith that she would keep his secret, that he would be safe with her. “I’ll help you,” she whispered.

“Okay.” Elijah’s eyes closed again, and he let his head drop against the wall as she grabbed a washcloth. He didn’t try to fight her, didn’t protest his need for help. He simply gave himself over to her, something she suspected he’d never done in his entire life.

I won’t let you down.
She grabbed a bar of soap and lathered up the washcloth.

I know.

There was such calm confidence in his voice, a gritty belief, that tears filled her eyes. Why would he believe in her like that? All she’d done in her life was cause people to die.

He raised his hand and let his fingers trail through her hair.
Sheva,
he whispered.
I can see into your heart.

Then you can see how black it is.

Not black,
he whispered.
Scarred.

As is yours.

Elijah laughed softly. “Sweetheart, there’s no heart in my body. Don’t ever think there is.” His knee started to buckle, and Ana caught him before he fell.

He met her gaze, those dark eyes so heavy with exhaustion. “I gotta get some sleep.”

She heard the irony in his voice, and she laughed. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell Quinn he was right.”

He nodded. “Damn right. The bastard would never let me live it down.”

“He is a bit of a pain in the butt,” she said, the cloth poised over his back while she held his wrist with her right hand. There was nowhere to start. His skin was shredded everywhere.

“Just do it.” His voice was low. Exhausted. “Just get it over with.”

She bit her lower lip, and started to clean the wounds as gently as she could. His muscles went rigid under her touch, and she winced. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s fine.” His voice was strained. “Pain’s good.”

She snorted. “Pain sucks.”

“Yeah, when you see it on others.” He turned his head, his eyes so full of empathy she felt her throat tighten. “I still remember that night I first saw you,” he said quietly, “when you stumbled around the corner after Nate had beaten you.” He moved his hand so he was holding her wrist, his grip light but firm. “You were broken, bleeding...too weak to stand up. What he did to you…” He swore. “The bastard needs to die.”