Stone of Ascension (9 page)

He was primed and ready for something.

She snuck a quick peek from behind Damian to look at the new arrival. He was slightly taller than Damian, dressed entirely in black that matched the midnight black hair that brushed his cheekbones and the onyx depths of his eyes. The bulk of his finely toned muscles was clearly outlined under the thin cotton of the short sleeve shirt and impressed upon Amber that he could kick some serious ass.

Like Damian, the man exuded authority as if he was born with it. He owned it. Demanded it. And currently challenged Damian with it. Thankfully, Damian didn’t appear to be intimidated by him or the look he was giving them.

“Damian.” The man’s deep voice rumbled across the short distance between them. His face remained impassive. The man might be considered handsome if his chiseled features didn’t look like they were cut out of stone.

“Xander.” Damian’s voice held zero emotion.

The man crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What do you want?”

Damian’s back straightened even more, if that was possible. For some unexplainable reason, Amber reached out and rested her hand on his back. The heat, the vitality that sailed up her arm made her breath hitch. His muscles contracted at her touch.

Did he feel it too? That odd power that sizzled between them whenever they touched?

The stone burned against her chest, sending its own waves of energy spiraling through her. A strange sense of urgency had her reaching under the coat with her free hand to slip the stone under her shirt.

No one else needed to see it. Needed to know she had it.

The overwhelming claim to ownership came barreling back to her. Damian had proven himself a non-threat to the stone, so her defenses had gone down. But this new guy, he screamed threat.

“I’ve brought the Marked One.” Damian’s voice matched the elements, icy and cold. His words sounded hollow. But there was no doubt he fully intended to turn her over to this man. Still, she couldn’t muster the desire to pull her hand away from his back.

Like the stone, he belonged to her.

Hissing as if she’d been burned, Amber jerked her hand at the strange thought. She quickly stepped away, retreating from him. Her movements brought her into full view of the imposing man in the door. He assessed her with expressionless eyes before turning his attention back to Damian.

“I need proof.”

“You’ll get it when I see the council.”

“This is all a big mistake,” Amber jumped in, unwilling to go along with whatever plans they were making. “If I could use a phone, I can make a call and be on my way.” As impressed as she was with her ability to keep her voice normal, her small speck of self-importance was smacked back down when both men looked at her, then dismissed her.

“I can’t trust you, Damian.” There was just a hint of sadness in the man’s voice.

Damian inclined his head. “Accepted. You can collar us.”

The man thinned his lips and studied Damian intently before nodding. “As you wish.” He took one step back into the house before he paused. “Be sure about this, Damian. There’s no going back once you’ve entered.”

The warning was ominous and landed between them like a rock.

Amber started to inch backwards off the porch, but was halted by Damian’s firm grip. Fire followed his touch up her arm and across her chest, pulling tight and hard.

“I’m sure,” Damian stated crisply.

“I’m not,” she whispered.

The man eased back farther and held the door open. “You may enter.”

Damian exhaled and stepped forward, dragging Amber along with him.

What was she supposed to do now? Her feet dragged, and she pulled back, resisting Damian’s hold. But they both knew she had no hope of getting away. It would be pointless to scream or struggle further since it was obvious the other man wouldn’t help her and there was no one else around for miles.

Behind her, the door clicked closed, the sound echoing through the sudden quiet within the house. It resonated in her ears and transformed in her mind to the last nail being pounded into her coffin.

Standing there in the entryway of an empty house, sandwiched between two hard men, two strangers, the reality of her situation slammed into her.

She was trapped.

All possibilities of escape, of returning home, of the entire situation being a big, colossal mistake were wiped out when she crossed the threshold of the house. The chance to go back was gone. She felt that truth in every fiber of her body. The bird mark flamed to life on her hand and the stone hung heavy, hard and hot between her breasts.

Damian turned to face her, his grip still in place around her arm. His lips were pressed into a firm, thin line, but his eyes were on fire. They pulsed with the energy she felt. They had deepened to an almost black-blue and swirled with something undefined.

The energy burned and raced up her arm from where he held her, pushed at her senses and spoke of honor, truth and desire. A desire that coiled through her until her sex tightened and clenched in unknown arousal. She sucked in her breath at the sudden new sensation.

No man had ever affected her like that.

The virgin in her whimpered to know the secrets that whispered at the edge of the desire. The forbidden knowledge that she longed to understand and experience but never had.

In that moment, Amber was more afraid of the desire he stirred, of the longing that slammed through her heart than of whatever lay beyond the walls of the house.

Chapter Eight

The air hung heavy, still and silent around the trio. No one said a word as the seconds ticked by. The oppressive air seemed out of place in the stark emptiness of their surroundings. It pressed upon Damian, the weight almost physical.

He couldn’t remember when he’d felt so on edge. It had been a very,
very
long time since something had stirred him this much. Long ago he had learned that the only way to survive was to extinguish his emotions. To become as hard on the inside as he was forced to be on the outside.

And it had worked for a thousand years.

Now, this one speck of a female had his blood racing, demanding attention and creating a need for something he could not have. She was the Marked One. She had the prophesied sign of evil and destruction scored onto her delicate flesh.

How could he possibly be feeling anything desirable or protective for her? Unless he too was evil. Unless everything his people had been proclaiming about him was true.

Never
.

But, there was nothing about Amber that even hinted at evil at this point. If anything, she was the exact opposite of evil. Innocent to an extreme that was hard to believe in today’s world.

“Where are we going?” Amber pulled against his hold on her arm.

With more effort than he expected, Damian released Amber’s arm and let his hand fall to his side. The loss of connection echoed through him and made him ache for more. Until all he wanted to do was whisk her away from there and anything that could harm her.

To where he could keep her safe.

Foolish.

He had to turn her in. She was his opportunity for redemption—his chance to finally return to the enclave and redeem himself to his father, his family and the entire community.

Steeling himself against the unrelenting pull he felt toward her, Damian looked to Xander and found himself fighting another battle. Xan, his one-time best friend, looked at him with zero emotion. Not a hint of the past. Of the closeness they had once shared. There was a time when Xan, Ladon and Damian had been inseparable. The Triple Terrors, a name pegged on them for the trouble they caused both in and out of battle.

Now, it was as if none of that had ever existed. Amber was his ticket to getting back everything that had been stripped so ruthlessly from him.

“Let’s do it,” Damian said to Xan, careful to keep all emotion from his voice. There was not a chance in hell he would let any weakness show. Not now. Not ever.

Xan studied him for a moment before he pulled two black collars from the hook next to the front door. To most, they would look like simple dog collars.
 

To Damian, they looked like death.

He concentrated on holding himself perfectly still as Xan approached. All one thousand years of calm fortitude were forced into use.

“What are those?” Amber demanded. “What’s going on?”

Xan stopped next to him and stared, his coal black eyes peering into Damian’s.

“You’re sure?” Xan questioned again. Something Damian knew he wouldn’t usually do. As head of the Energen Guard—the force that protected and defended the Energen race—Xan never doubted his actions or offered second chances. The safety of the entire enclave fell under Xan’s responsibility. A responsibility he owned.

“Positive,” Damian responded even though he was anything but. For the first time in years he truly doubted his next move. It was not something he was used to, and he found it unsettling.

Giving a brief, crisp nod, Xan reached up and clipped the object around Damian’s neck. Damian flinched, unable to restrain the reaction.

The collars were set as two half circles connected with a back hinge that enabled them to open and close easily around a neck. The hard, black metal felt cold against his skin and had the instant effect they were designed for.

“Like all circles created by my people, they will contain our energy,” he told Amber around the tightness in his jaw. Every ounce of power he held was now contained. “As long as we wear the collars, we cannot wield the powers or use the energy as we were born to do.”

He was a prisoner. He had willingly turned himself over to the very people who wanted to see him dead. He clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to pull at the restraint. He swallowed and cringed as his Adam’s apple rubbed against the hard metal.

“Handcuffs for the mystical?” Amber quipped. “Well, then, you can put that other one away since I don’t have any powers.”

The rattling of a door handle forced Damian’s attention from himself. Amber had eased her way back to the front door and was desperately twisting the doorknob in an attempt to escape. He felt a foreign sense of pride at her self-preservation instinct.

The two men watched her in silence until she finally gave up. She turned to look at them once she realized the door wouldn’t open. Her lips were clamped between her teeth. His black trench coat swallowed her and made her appear small despite her height. Her gaze darted back and forth between the men, but she straightened her back and lifted her chin in a graceful move of defiance. She stood tall and assessed them with cool reservation. She wasn’t cowering in fear or blatant denial of the events.

Damian held back the smile that threatened to break. Why in the world did her continual boldness, her unwillingness to give up, make him proud? It made zero sense and had no place in his emotions.

Emotions. There they were again. Yet another thing that made no sense. Why was he suddenly feeling when he had successfully shut out everything for years? Now was not the time to open that door.

“What are you doing?” Amber looked at Xan with hesitant eyes as he approached her.

“He needs to place the collar around your neck,” Damian informed her, hoping to calm her some. “Let him. It won’t hurt, and it’s the only way we can leave this house.”

She looked around Xan and met Damian’s eyes. “I told you I don’t need one. I have no powers. Trust me, after almost twenty-four years of life, I’d know if I did.”

“It will be safer for you if you wear one.”

Question and doubt were evident in her eyes, but eventually she gave a slight nod of acceptance.

Before Xan could move, Damian was next to him, taking the black ring from his hand. “I’ll do it.” The thought of another man touching Amber had his skin crawling with a possessiveness that startled him with its intensity.

Amber was
his
to protect.

Even as he rejected the thought, he was pushing Xan back so he could stand in front of her. She looked at him, her golden eyes showing everything she was trying so desperately to hide—fear, doubt, confusion, courage…and trust. That one nailed him like a knee to his groin.

He swallowed back self-loathing as he moved the collar around her neck. He deliberately let his fingers brush her soft nape, ensuring that none of her hair got caught in the hinge. The tiny click of the lock closing rang in his ears. He leaned forward under the pretense of fixing his scarf, which was still looped around her neck.

“Keep the necklace hidden,” he whispered into her ear. The light smell of cinnamon invaded his nose and nearly brought him to his knees. How? More importantly, why did he just tell her that?

He’d acted on impulse.

She stilled, then nodded almost imperceptibly. He didn’t doubt she would listen.

“It’s time to go,” Xan said. “I have been instructed to bring you directly to the Council Hall. I assume the full council will be present.”

Damian turned to Xan and nodded his appreciation for the extra bit of information. They would be presented before the full group of council members, not just the five Heads of Houses. Not unexpected, but infinitely more challenging.