Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars (10 page)

“Are you going to come quietly, or not?”

“Not. I told you I’ll be fine.” And she really hoped it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, regret hanging in his voice like an executioner’s axe.

“About what?” She opened her eyes and stood. The visions were blocking most of her sight, but she saw enough to witness his big body approaching.

He moved too fast to be real. Too fast for her to even pull in a full breath to scream. His wide palm pressed hot against her forehead, and said, “Sleep.”

Rory did.

Chapter 6

C
ain caught Rory as she crumpled. The metallic sting of drawing in enough power to make her sleep still burned his hand, but the rest of his pain was blissfully absent.

He held her in his arms and caressed her cheek as he’d been dying to do before. She was even softer than he’d remembered, her skin warm and smooth under his rough fingertips.

As much as he would have loved to linger over her, there wasn’t time. She wouldn’t sleep long, and when she woke, he wanted her to be as far away from people as possible. If that’s what helped mute her painful visions, then that’s what he’d do.

The walk back to the shelter seemed to pass in a blink of time. Her ridiculously pink head was cradled against him so that her forehead was pressed to his neck. The smell of something sweet filled his nostrils, and he kept breathing it in, trying to identify the intoxicating scent. It reminded him of spring, the way it used to smell centuries ago.

He made sure her skin never left contact with his. The blast of agony he suffered whenever he stopped touching her was not something he wanted to face until absolutely necessary. It was as consuming as it was incapacitating. Night was still upon them and demons roamed free. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight if the pain hit him again. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to stand. The thought of dropping her made him careful, not that touching her was any hardship.

The soft brush of her breath over his skin made every muscle in his body tighten in anticipation and longing. She made him want things he refused to name. She gave him hope where he’d thought none could be found, and while that was a gift, it was also a curse. Hope was good only while it lasted, while there was still some question as to the future.

But how much question could there be when she clearly didn’t like him, when she couldn’t wait to be rid of him?

And yet she’d nearly touched his luceria. She’d said she wanted it.

Of course she had no idea what she was getting herself into. There was no way she could know.

The fact that he’d almost chosen not to stop her showed just how far he’d slid from the man he’d once been.

Cain knocked on the shelter door and Hope let him in, panic straining her voice. “What happened?”

“She’s just sleeping. I couldn’t let her run away.”

“You did this to her?”

Cain carried her back toward the safe room. “I had to. She left me no choice.”

“Oh, man. She is going to be furious when she wakes up.”

“As long as she’s still alive, she can be as mad as she wants.”

Logan sat bent over the small demon carcass with a scalpel in his hand. He looked up as Cain entered and rose from his seat.

“She’s fine,” said Cain, preempting any more concern.

He went to lay Rory on the gurney, but there was a black smudge of demon blood staining the sheets. No way was he laying her on that.

Instead, he settled into a chair and leaned back so she was resting comfortably against his chest, holding her close so she wouldn’t slip off. Her forehead was tucked against his neck, and he could feel streamers of energy sliding out of him, reaching for her, sinking into her skin wherever they touched. There was a heady kind of magic in the exchange—one he didn’t allow himself to think about for long. That minute transfer of energy was too close to the way it was supposed to be with a woman—his partner. He’d never felt it before like this—not even with Jackie—and he had a feeling he could get used to it way too fast.

Maybe he already had.

Cain guessed that the longer he touched her, the more the separation would hurt, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked this blissful lack of pain—this tiny glimpse of what should have been—and he would use any excuse he could find to stay like this for as long as possible. It would end too soon no matter what he did, and that pain would be waiting for him, ready to pounce.

Logan stared at him for a moment, his pretty head tilted to one side, studying Cain.

“What?” demanded Cain.

“Nothing,” said Logan in a way that clearly meant something else. “We have no need to worry about her being poisoned.”

Relief swept through him, and he felt something in his chest unclench. “That’s good news.”

Rory shifted on his lap. Her hand slid up until the tips of her fingers were touching the skin above his collar, mere inches from his luceria.

He caught himself holding his breath and had to make a conscious effort to let it out.

“There is, however, some bad news,” said Logan.

“What?” Cain choked out.

“This creature contained no poison glands that I could detect, but it did have this strange bit of anatomy attached to its barbs.”

“What was it?”

“A type of bladder, but it was empty. And its barbs were hollow. I believe that it is meant to collect fluid. Like blood.”

Slow, feral anger began to simmer in Cain’s gut. “You think that thing that stung her took her blood?”

“I’d have to have a live specimen to be sure, but that seems a reasonable assumption.”

Some demon out there had Rory’s blood? Cain couldn’t let that stand. “I’ll track it down and kill it. And I’ll bring you back a live one to study.”

He began to move, but Rory let out a small whimper as if the motion had disturbed her.

Cain went still, his need to see her content and his need to rescue her blood warring within him.

“How will you find it?” asked Hope.

“I don’t know. I just will.” The task was a simple one. He wouldn’t fail.

Logan spun his chair around to face them. “Perhaps I could detect the scent of her blood within one of the creatures, but it’s too close to dawn for me to go out hunting.”

“Fine, then I’ll go kill them all.” As soon as he could bring himself to let Rory go. “But one of you needs to take her out of the city. She said that being around a lot of people makes her visions worse.”

Hope looked down at her friend. “I can take her.”

“No,” said Logan, his voice harsh and final. “It’s too dangerous. What if the purpose of taking her blood is to use it to track her?”

“It will be daylight. The demons can’t follow her during the day.”

“No, but they can use Dorjan,” said Logan, speaking of the brainwashed human servants the Synestryn used to do their bidding. “And there’s no way of knowing what the Synestryn will do with her blood. They could use it to control her. She could attack you.”

Hope paled and took a step nearer to Logan. “That’s ridiculous.”

No, it wasn’t, and Cain couldn’t ask Hope to risk herself like that. Despite her growing power and strength, she wasn’t a Theronai. She wasn’t a warrior.

The way Rory would be if she chose to take a man’s luceria.

Until that happened, Cain was going to see to it that she was well protected. “I’ll have Joseph send some men to take her to Dabyr. Then I’ll go hunt down these barbed creatures. You two have already helped enough.”

“She’s not going to hurt me,” said Hope.

Rory’s fingers clenched around his shirt, and she let out a groggy whisper. “Don’t let me hurt her.”

She tried to sit up, but Cain kept his grip firm so she wouldn’t accidentally stop touching him. If she did, he’d likely thrash around and dump her onto the hard floor, or worse yet, land on top of her and crush her.

The thought of being atop her for a different, more pleasurable reason hit him from out of nowhere. He could almost see her pink hair splayed out across white sheets, her face draped in shadows and shaped by pleasure as he pushed them both toward a bright, shimmering release.

In an instant, his mouth went dry, his throat constricting hard enough to cut off his air. His cock swelled, and he barely shifted fast enough to hide his shameful lack of control from her. Lusting after a helpless woman was disgraceful, and yet he couldn’t seem to find enough honor to let that stop him. Everything about her called out to him in a siren song meant to tear down his willpower. Even that ridiculous pink hair was growing on him.

Hope gave Logan a hard, irritated look. “See what you’ve done? Now you’ve got her worried for no good reason.”

“There is good reason, love. You were already attacked by a Dorjan once. I will not let you risk yourself again. Not even for Rory. Not when Cain is capable of seeing to her care.”

Fury darkened Hope’s face and she loomed over Logan, her voice quiet and shaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do or who to help.”

Logan rose to his feet, his usual grace gone in the face of his own anger. “So you’d risk your life for something another can do just as easily?”

“It’s my life to risk.”

“And what of me? Where do you think I would be without you? You are my world, and like it or not, you are now responsible for my life as well.”

Their argument was beginning to escalate, and Cain could feel Rory growing more upset by the moment, her slender body going tense in his arms.

“Is he right?” asked Rory, her voice too quiet to travel beyond his ears alone. “Could I hurt her?”

Cain couldn’t lie to her, not when she sounded so vulnerable and afraid—so trusting of him. “It’s possible.”

“Then help me get me out of here. Please.”

“I can help her,” said Hope. “Even if things go wrong, I’m getting stronger every day. I can protect myself.”

“You haven’t been a part of our world long enough to know just how wrong things can go,” said Logan.

This was not the kind of lovers’ argument Cain wanted to witness. It was a private affair, and he wanted to help keep it that way.

He stood up and left the room with Rory in his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him, muting sounds of their increasingly heated argument.

When he got to the kitchen, he paused long enough to ask, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. You can put me down now.”

Cain grudgingly eased her to the floor, holding her hand and making sure she was steady on her feet. She swayed, and her eyes didn’t seem to focus on any one thing. He wasn’t sure if that was from grogginess, or if her visions had come back despite his touch.

“I’m fine. You can let go.”

Shame burned in his cheeks. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not if you want me in any shape to drive.”

She nodded, her head wobbly, and laced her fingers through his. “I’d kill us right now if I got behind the wheel, but I really want to leave. If I did anything to hurt Hope, I’d never forgive myself.”

Cain knew all too well how horrible hurting another felt. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rory suffering through such guilt. “I won’t let that happen.”

He led her outside to his truck. Rory crawled in, moving over so he could get in behind the wheel. He kept his grip on her fingers tight so they didn’t accidentally slip away. Not that that was any hardship. He liked the feeling of her delicate fingers laced through his, the warmth of her skin, and the trembling streamers of energy vibrating between them. It was all he could do to focus on operating the vehicle safely.

Cain drove out of the city toward Dabyr, pleased that she was on her way to where she belonged. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to take her, but he was counting this as a victory nonetheless.

Until she went stiff beside him and cast him a glare so acidic he could feel it against the side of his face. “You knocked me out,” she said as if just now remembering. “I was going to leave and you knocked me out.”

Cain blew out a breath and accepted his incoming scolding. “I sent you to sleep. You left me no choice.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ve left
me
no choice. Pull the fuck over.”

“Why?”

“Because in about ten seconds I’m letting go of your hand, and I’d rather not die in a fiery crash and spill my blood everywhere so the monsters find us and eat our corpses.”

*   *   *

Ronan preferred the role of hunter to prey.

He could smell the fetid stench of demons tracking him, hear their skittering hearts racing. There were more than a dozen of them following along behind him. He couldn’t very well let them follow him to the human couple whose sick, blooded son he needed to heal.

Ronan led them away from his destination and found a quiet, dark loading dock at the back of a vacant warehouse. There were no prying eyes here—no reason for him to waste his precious, dwindling stores of magic on shielding what he was about to do from sight of humans.

The cold air seeped through his leather trench coat, into his bones. The chill slowed his reflexes and made his joints ache with the need for warmth.

He was on his own out here—the way he preferred. Despite the fact that a Theronai’s blade would be handy right about now, his job was simpler when he had to make no explanations to another for his actions.

Project Lullaby needed him, and his dedication to saving his race had to be absolute.

Ronan drew his sword and turned to face the oncoming threat. His gaze cut through the darkness, latching on to the first demon brave enough to show itself.

It was small, but he knew better than to let that make him overconfident. Even the tiniest demon could kill a man just as dead as a giant one could. The only difference was that he had a chance at defeating something so small without exhausting his dwindling power.

The demon’s thick insectoid tail was curved up over its back, with three long barbs gleaming from the tip. It moved fast, low to the ground, its claws making only the faintest sound along the cold asphalt. A pale green glow spilled from its six eyes as it neared Ronan.

In the distance more of the things appeared, their eyes lighting with hunger and excitement. He heard the fluttering of their hearts speed with anticipation as they scrambled to reach him.