Darkness Undone (5 page)

Aerén cut him a dry look. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I recall the females haunting your halls in Ademéras, and your many assignations with them.”

Seduce her to help their cause?

“Yeah, should be a piece of cake,” he muttered, aware of his lack of enthusiasm.

Why the hell was he hesitating over this one? He’d used females before. If Eve had magic in her, then he’d do what needed to be done. All that mattered was saving his world. His fingers curled around the delicate earring in his pocket.

Once it was over, he’d just clear her memories and send her on her way…

***

Eve wobbled in her vivid blue icepick heels, attempting her usual quick stride. Unless she wanted to fall flat on her face, she’d better slow down. She was already late, hurrying now made little difference.

The stifling heat rose off the asphalt and moistened her skin as she fished for her cell phone in her evening bag to check her messages, surprised Brenna or Kataya hadn’t called to rant.

Only to find it locked. And her password didn't work. Ugh, she’d just sort it out later.

Dropping her phone back in her purse, Eve rubbed her damp palms over the hips of her blue-green strappy cocktail dress. Its flared hemline fluttered around her thighs as she pushed open the glass door into the snazzy foyer of the brick building where Artist Inc. Gallery was located. She sighed in pleasure at the blast of coolness against her skin. Thank God for air conditioners.

While the ancient elevator chugged her up to the sixth floor, Eve drew on her black gloves. With this kind of crowd, she didn’t dare risk going in with bare hands.

Soft voices and tinkling glass greeted her in the gallery, along with the nose-tingling scents of expensive perfumes and oil paints. Eve stopped, stunned, and stared at the canvases on display. David’s absentmindedness definitely hid a brilliant artist.

“Hi,” she greeted the couple next to her. “His work is amazing, isn’t it?”

The brunette threw her a cold look and turned away. Her male companion, on the other hand, smiled appreciatively at her.

Odd. Eve shook her head and concentrated on the canvas titled
“Life,”
done in the Impressionist style. The enormous conglomeration of brushstrokes coalesced into a group of homeless people sheltering around a garbage can of fire. David had captured the very mood and nuances of his subjects while they enjoyed a simple pleasure. The sheer brilliance of his work boggled her mind.

She spied Eric and David with a group of people on the other end and gave them a little wave before she wandered to another canvas. A jasmine perfumed cloud enveloped her seconds later.

“There you are, you slacker,” Kataya growled into her ear. “You don’t answer your cell anymore?”

“I’m so sorry, I was working.” She accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter who gave her a thorough once over.

Eve frowned. What was it with the lust-filled stares since she’d entered the gallery? Heck, Kataya was the looker with her pale skin and slant-shaped eyes. Tonight she was decked in sleek black evening pants and matching bustier top. Her dark red hair flowed in a sexy cascade of corkscrew curls down her back.

“I don’t know much about Impressionism,” Kataya said, her whiskey-colored eyes taking in all the paintings. “But everything sure looks good. So, are you and David heating up the sheets tonight?”

Eve sputtered. Champagne sprayed, wetting her gloves.

“Jesus, Kat!” She glared at her friend, found a tissue in her bag and cleaned off her damp gloves. “We’re merely having drinks later, nothing else.”

“Hey.” Brenna glided over in a figure-hugging red dress. She looked at them both and raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Kat needs a distraction. Badly.” Eve snorted, squashing the used tissue into a ball. “Her mind’s in the gutters.”

“Aah…” Brenna smiled, then her quizzical blue eyes pinned Eve. “You didn’t say you and David were an item.”

“We aren’t, Bren. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

How could she, when
his
face haunted her now? Their first encounter had been disturbing enough. Then her dreams had taken over. No way she could ever forget those sensual lips set in that stunning face, taunting her as he trailed the dagger down her stomach—

“You go on with that mindset and the worms will be the only ones enjoying your virginity,” Kataya muttered. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Brenna took her arm. “Come. I want you to see something.

Eve frowned at Kataya’s cranky attitude. “What’s with her?” she asked, letting Brenna lead her. “Her editors giving her crap again?”

“Either that, or she’s missing Jake.” Brenna brushed her inky bangs from her eyes. “And she’s smoking like a junkie, too—ta-daaa!” She flashed her arms open as they stopped in front of a painting. “So, what do you think?”

Eve didn’t answer. How could she when her jaw had dropped to the floor?

There she was on canvas. Larger than life. The narrow strap of her top had dropped off one shoulder to expose the curve of her right breast. Thank God at least her nipple was covered! Dreamy green eyes stared back at her. Her mouth looked like she’d lip-locked a bee. At the seductive expression on her face, heat fused her cheeks. “I never posed for
that
!”

The painting was done in a multitude of delicate brush strokes that made her look…sexy?

Sheesh, she had to be the least sexy person ever, when she practically lived in her sweats or threadbare jeans. Well, they were her work clothes. But, sexy? Her gaze veered to the title on the right. Eternity. Just as well he didn’t call it Seduction. Eve shuddered at the thought.

“Like my surprise? Must say, I’ve received several offers for you,” David said from behind her.

Eve whirled to him. “Why would you do this to me? Oh, Lord, now I understand the reason for the looks I’ve been getting,” she moaned, dropping her head into her palms. “And don’t say that! It sounds like you’re my pimp or something.”

David rubbed her back. “It’s beautiful. And that’s how you look.”

Her head snapped up to meet his grin. “No, it’s not. I know what I look like when I wake up. And when did you see me—” The memory surfaced in pixel clear clarity.

She’d been sick one evening several weeks ago, and had taken flu meds before attending a get-together with the gang at David’s loft. She had dozed off.

“When you awoke, you looked so…” David’s ears turned red. “Alluring. I had to capture you on canvas.”

So being sick made her sexy? Oh, God! Eve snagged another flute of bubbly. “I need to drink and forget I saw that. Or that all the women here probably hate me.”

“I wouldn’t worry. They’re just jealous that they can’t look as hot as you do, even when sick,” he teased, then turned when someone hailed him. He gave her another pat on the back and strolled off.

***

It was close to midnight, people showed no sign of leaving, and Eve was still sober. Her feet threw a tantrum in her torturous shoes. She wished she could sit down and pull off the stilettos. With work and now this party, heck, even the floor looked inviting after sixteen hours on her feet. Stifling a groan, she took another sip of her champagne.

Kataya joined her after another little excursion outside. A fresh wave of jasmine and mint came off her.

“You okay?” Eve asked, studying her friend’s pale face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Trying to give up ciggies is a damn pain-in-the-ass. I’m gonna call it a night. You want a ride home?”

Ah, now she understood Kat’s crankiness. “Please.”

“So, you dislike the painting, huh? Not happening with David, then?” Kat asked her as Brenna joined them.

Eve wrinkled her nose. “The painting’s okay, I suppose. It’s not like I’m naked or anything. I’m too tired for drinks or to think about
that
tonight, so home it is. Anyway, we have a date for Wednesday… What?” she asked when her friends didn’t respond but stared behind her.

The sudden silence was broken by startled gasps.

“Would you look at him!” Fine lines creased Kataya’s brow. “Now, why do I feel like I’ve said this before? But Jesus, the man
is
beautiful.”

Eve whipped around, her heart racing. Déjà vu hit her hard.

So tall, he stood heads above everyone there. Black leathers covered his muscled legs and were teamed with a dark dress shirt and a long, black coat. His pale hair was tied back, revealing the stark lines of a face she never thought she’d see again.

In the bright lights of the gallery, he was even more stunning.

“He could just stand there and pretend to be a statue of a Greek god or something equally divine,” Brenna said on a dreamy sigh, checking him out. “Definitely mandelicious.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kataya agreed. Then she scowled. “That’s not even a word.”

“But got you to agree with me,” Brenna snickered. “Bet he has gorgeous sapphire eyes to match the rest of him.”

Midnight blue,
Eve mentally corrected, even as her mind struggled to accept him being here, in the gallery of all places. Memories of her dreams, of the cool metal blade he’d trailed down her belly, swamped her. Arousal flared to life. Shit!

“I need the, er, bathroom,” she told her friends. She didn’t wait to hear their response. Shaken by her strong feelings, Eve slipped out into the passage, but with women going into the restroom, she headed for Eric’s empty office at the back instead. The single light from the passage cast a soft glow into the darkened room.

Eve set her glass down, pulled off her sticky gloves and dropped them on the desk, then rubbed a shaky hand over her fluttering stomach.
I’m fine—I’m fine.
She inhaled deeply, picking up the small sample sculpture of a vase she’d done for Eric, and let the humming of the metal soothe her…

Her neck prickled. Eve stilled, a dart of wariness creeping up her spine.

She wasn’t alone.

Swinging around, she almost pitched on her heels. Her heart crashed against her ribs as her gaze fastened on the tall, shadowy figure filling the doorway, blocking her only way of escape.

The lights flickered on in the office, Eve blinked at the sudden brightness. And fear took on a different heartbeat when she looked into unforgettable, midnight blue eyes.

He’d followed her from the gallery?

She eyed him warily. But he remained at the entrance, as if not to scare her.

The sudden sharp pain in her finger had Eve hastily easing her death-grip on the metal sculpture. Her defense mechanism kicked in. “Are you lost? Or are you here to finish off what you started last night?”

He went motionless at her words.

Oh, yes. She’d obviously lost her ever-loving mind, reminding him of
that
.

“You want the gallery, can’t miss it—” And she couldn’t seem to stop. “Go back through the short corridor on the left—double glass doors leading into this enormous room with paintings. That easy.”

Something dark and dangerous sparked in his narrowed eyes. He prowled closer, crowding her in the small office. Eve had to dig her toes in not to run, mostly because she had nowhere to escape.

He stopped a foot from her, his gaze skimming over her as if searching for something. A tiny crease marred his brow. “You hurt yourself again.”

Eve glanced at her stinging finger and saw the red stain. Ugh, she seemed to make a habit of hurting herself around this man. He reached for her hand. Panicked, she shoved the sculpture at him and backed away in horror.

It was one thing for her friends to see her scars, but for him to see the shattered tissues and burn marks? Nope. Not happening. She balled her fingers into fists. People, she’d found out in painful clarity, didn’t like anything ugly. They either gawked in pity or tried to avoid accidently touching her hands, like her ex-boss had. As if her scars were contagious.

“Eve, let me see.”

His low, accented voice almost melted her resolve to stay detached from that tangible pull of him. Disturbed at the near lapse, she put the desk between them. “It’s nothing—a scratch. How do you know my name?”

Cool, night-sky eyes flickered to the wooden barrier separating them. She doubted it would be much of a defense. He looked quite capable of tossing the desk away.

“It doesn’t take a genius to find out your name with the painting of you on display.” His unexpected curt tone held a cold bite.

Heat crept into her face at the thought that he’d seen her portrait. It was obvious he didn’t like it. She scowled. “What do you want?”

“Are you always this difficult when someone tries to talk to you?”

“Only to those with a hand around my throat.”

His gaze shifted away from hers for a second then came back, unreadable as ever. “I wasn’t myself last night.”

That
was an apology?
Her eyebrow arched, but on an inherent level, the knowledge trickled into her that it was the best she’d get from a hard man like him. She let it drop.

Eve knew it wasn’t fear that had her reacting to him in such a defiant manner, but something else she didn’t want to name.

He studied the sculpture she’d dumped on him. “What is this?”

“A sample I did for Eric.”

His gaze flickered back to her. “You’re an artist.”

“A sculptor. I’ll have my own show soon.” Eve cringed at what must sound like a weak attempt to issue an invitation. As if he’d want to come. She stuck her sore finger in her mouth—or at least she had attempted to when he grabbed her hand.

Her heart tripped. She hadn’t even seen him move around the desk. “It’s just—”

“A scratch. So you said. Let me.”

Before she could figure out what he meant, his mouth closed around her finger. Her breath tangled in her throat, her gaze trapped by his. A blue flame flickered in those dark depths. She forgot about her scars as his warm tongue lapped at the tiny wound, caught in a whirlpool of sensations.

Oh, dear God!
Need roared to life, lighting a fuse that led directly to the most feminine part of her.

Struggling to tamp down the wayward desires, Eve tugged her hand free and clutched the desk to support her shaky limbs. She didn’t even know his name, and she’d already been more intimate with him than any man.

“Why–why did you do that?” she croaked.

He shook his head. His fists bunched, then he shoved them into his pants pockets. “My name’s Reynner. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Amusement tugged his lips. “Why so suspicious?”

Dear Lord—that smile! Before she did something mortifying like grab him and take a bite of his sexy mouth, she said, “Talk fast.”

His brow climbed up. “I can't ‘talk fast’ about this.”

Snorting, Eve brushed past him and walked out from the office. She needed her friends. Maybe Kataya and Brenna would slap some common sense back into her head.

As she made her way down the short corridor, Eve struggled to remain composed—a darn difficult thing to do when his quiet presence behind her tugged at her like a magnet.

Relief flooded her as she entered the gallery and spied Brenna and Kataya heading her way.

“There you are. We’ve been looking for you—” Kataya broke off, glancing behind Eve in shock.

“I…umm, I got detained.”

“Eve?”

No touching, just her name in his lightly accented voice, and it put the brakes on her flight response. Her friends did a perfect impression of two landed guppies.

“It’s important.” His low tone stroked her senses like a warm caress.

Oh, heck, she was in so much trouble. She flicked a quick look at him over her shoulder and met his dark blue stare. Yes, the man was a stranger, but one who called to her on an intrinsic level. It left her with little choice but a burning need to find out what it was about him that affected her in this way. And he said he wanted to talk. “Okay.”

Eve turned to her dumbstruck friends, and introduced them. “These are my friends, Kataya and Brenna,” she told him. “Kat, Bren, this is Reynner.”

He gave them a polite nod.

Their hellos were a croaky effort at best, for which she couldn’t blame them. With that face, Reynner would probably leave many breathless.

“I won’t be long. Five minutes and we can leave, okay?”

Eve took her purse from a still gaping Brenna, then slipped past the guests and walked out into the busy foyer. She turned to Reynner and tried to ignore the attention he drew from the women there. They didn’t bother with her after the first dismissive look. With her hands on display, she wasn’t even a contender in their eyes.

Eve tightened her fingers on her purse, yearning to dig out her spare pair of gloves, but she refused to let them win.

A leggy blonde in a figure-hugging black cocktail dress glided up to them. The front V of her bodice dipped low, revealing her gym-sculpted body. Her gray eyes bright with carnal interest.

“Hello,” she murmured to Reynner in a throaty voice that annoyed Eve.

His gaze flickered to her.

“I’m Selene. Did you enjoy the exhibit?”

“I’m not here for the art. I came for Eve.” Cool. Dismissive.

A tingle of delight burst through Eve at his statement.

“Well, then…” Selene gave Eve a disdainful glance. “I’m sure you’ll feel differently tomorrow. Give me a call.” She slipped a small card in his pocket and sashayed away.

Yes, better to get this over with, or her self-worth would never stand the onslaught. But the insult stung.

“What do you want to talk about?” Eve kept her tone level, aware of the small card residing in his coat pocket like a poisonous asp.

“Not here. It’s too crowded. Let’s walk.” He summoned the elevator.

Walk
. Her feet rebelled at the word. “My stilettos are going to kill me.”

He glanced at her killer heels. “We won’t go far.”

“Matters little when you’re wearing torture devices,” she muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Discreetly, she studied him while they waited for the elevator. He stood with his feet slightly apart, arms crossed over his chest. His hands-off vibe all but smacked her in the face. Maybe it was just with her…but no, he’d brushed off the other woman, too.

The door to the elevator clanged open. Moments later, they were descending to the ground floor at a snail’s pace.

Eve leaned against the metal wall. Enclosed in this small cage, she fought to keep her breathing shallow. God, but the man smelled really, really good. It was almost as if she stood in the middle of a forest after the rain.

However, now that he’d gotten her agreement to talk, he didn’t seem ready to do so. He stared at the receding numbers of each floor as if it were a far more interesting sight.

Just her luck.

Eve flexed an aching foot and sighed. It kept her from obsessing about why a man who looked like him would suck her finger. He turned then and eyed her foot, only to ask a different question.

“The ear’s healed?”

“What?”

He nodded to her ear.

“Oh. Yes, it’s fine.” She touched her unadorned lobe. The fast healing had surprised her, but the hole had closed, which meant getting it re-pierced. Not a visit she cared to think about. She’d suffered through enough pain in her lifetime. Her scars hurt more when she worked long hours, like today. She curled and uncurled her fingers to ease the stiffness.

“What happened to your hands?”

Eve struggled to breathe at his question. Flames of the past leaped up and consumed her. “An accident, ten years ago...”

“Fire?” Something in his dark stare told her this went past polite interest, like he was truly concerned. And maybe that’s why she told him about the car crash.

“I couldn’t save them,” she whispered. “My parents were trapped…the fire….”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed the tightness in her throat and nodded, rubbing the old scar on her chest.

He reached out and gently stroked her face. Startled, her gaze flew to his. He looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. His jaw rigid, his hands disappeared behind his back. He remained silent, but she caught the brief flicker in his haunted gaze, like he understood tragedy. She couldn’t be sure because he pivoted as the doors opened.

Still, something had moved in his shadowy gaze and touched a deep visceral part of her. Almost like a connection was made between them in that single moment.

Eve stepped out of the elevator and discarded her fanciful imagination. A
connection
with this self-contained fortress? Right. The only connection she had was one of arousal that left her damp and edgy. And dammit, she’d had it with her shoes.

Resting her hand on the wall, Eve pulled off her stiletto. A moan of relief escaped her, one she cut off when she found him watching her. “It’s been a long and
tiring
day. So what did you want to talk about?”

She slipped off the other shoe, hooked her finger through both straps, and felt like a midget next to him. Her head must barely touch his shoulders because she certainly couldn’t see over them.

He held out an iPhone. As if on cue it rang.
Like a Virgin
belted out loud in the quiet night. Eve dove for her cell, heat rushing to her face. How the heck did he get her phone?

“Sorry,” she mumbled in embarrassment and pushed open the lobby door into the sweltering night. He followed her. Within seconds, she felt like a wilting rag while he, even in leathers, appeared cool, gorgeous. And untouchable.

Reynner exuded that inaccessible air like a thick cloud…
but clouds can dissipate,
she thought with a little smile and answered her call.

***

Reynner shoved his hands into his pants pockets, inhaling sharply to clear the smell of her from his lungs, and failed.

Urias
, this wasn’t turning out as he’d planned. Locked in the elevator with her, her subtle peach fragrance combined with the scent of her arousal taunted him. The latter he’d caused by sucking on her finger. He was only supposed to taste her blood, not behave like a bloody leech. Everything about her drew him in. She was too compelling, even with those strange blue-painted toenails. It’d taken every bit of willpower he possessed not to haul her to him and devour her mouth instead.

She sent him a quick look as she spoke on her cell. Her gaze, like an erotic caress, tightened his skin, and his cock hardened uncomfortably against his zipper.

How the hell could one tiny human unravel his mind—his defenses—so easily?

The taste of her blood hummed through him like a symphony. Any more, and he’d have the whole bloody orchestra playing in him. Yes, she had magic in her. He doubted she was even aware of it. His heart quickened at the enormity of what this meant for his realm.

Would she agree to aid him in his search for the artifact?

It mattered little. He needed her help, and he would get it.

Reynner brought his attention back to his job and realized to whom she was speaking. The artist. His eyes narrowing, he strolled closer.