by Mina Carter
Her shoulder felt like it was getting torn from its socket, and her body burned from getting pummeled by the ruthless current. The pain was too much, way too much.
"Come on," Ryland shouted. With a herculean effort, he dragged her toward him, somehow summoning strength that triumphed over the relentless pull of the water. She slammed into his body, and this time she flung aching limbs around him without hesitation. When he anchored his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, she felt the most incredible sense of relief and hope, as if she now had a chance to make it.
Catherine buried her face against his shoulder, focused on nothing but hanging onto him and catching her breath when they cleared the water. Again and again, they were jerked free of the water and then plunged back into it as Apollo leapt over waves and then landed again. Ryland's grip on her never faltered, even when her arms and legs were screaming with exhaustion and she felt like she couldn't hold on for a second more, he was there for her, keeping her protected and in his grasp.
Finally, she heard the thud of the horse's hooves on solid ground. In disbelief, she raised her head as Ryland landed on the riverbank and released Apollo's tail. He forged onward another twenty yards until they were clear of the water, then he went down to his knees, still gripping her tightly.
She was too exhausted to do anything except sag against him, fighting for breath. They'd made it. They'd made it. It was an impossible crossing, but the warriors had found a way.
"Holy crap." Zach was on his hands and knees beside them, his ribs expanding as he sucked in air. His muscles were trembling, and steam was rising from his body. "Remind me never to go swimming in that she-demon of water again."
Even Apollo looked drained. The horse's head was down, his forefeet splayed as his nostrils flared. Only Thano looked fresh atop the horse, his halberd out and ready as he scanned their surroundings, protecting the others while they regrouped. Though battered and drenched, the trio gave off a sense of power and solidarity, a force that seamlessly worked to support each other.
Her throat tightened, overwhelmed by the way the three of them seemed to stand by each other, despite the visible tension that she'd seen by the graveyard. It was amazing, this teamwork, this kind of support...and then she remembered that Ryland had said that he would have cut down Ian if he'd been planning to hurt Alice. Was his bond with Ian the same as it was with Thano and Zach? And if so, how could he be able to destroy it so easily to protect another?
But she knew the answer to that. He was a man who lived by his own rules, and woe to anyone who counted on him for more than that. He wasn't a forever guy. He was "forever until it served his purposes to go in another direction," and she had to remember that, no matter how great he was at saving her from nether-world serpents and rivers.
"You okay?" Ryland eased her down to the ground, his hands moving over her hips in a soft caress too methodical to be a seduction, but more intimate than a simple examination for injuries should be.
"Yes." Her muscles were aching and trembling, and she felt as if every last bit of energy had been sucked from her body by the water. She couldn't keep from gripping his forearms, needing his strength to hold herself up, as if she were some weak female. Which, apparently, she was, at least in this moment. But at the same time, it felt good to have him to lean on. Beautiful even. He'd just saved her life with a show of strength and courage that was incredible. "Thank you," she said quietly.
Ryland cupped her face, and she looked at him. His eyes were black as usual, ruthlessly intent. "I would give my life for yours," he said. "Without hesitation. No matter what."
The raw simplicity of his promise touched her, as did the absolute conviction in his eyes. She knew he spoke the truth, the full truth. For some reason, this man she didn't even know, this man steeped in death and terrible things, had committed his life to her well-being. Tears thickened her throat, but she forced herself to turn away, unwilling to let herself fall for the kind of lines that had stolen so much from her already.
"Catherine," he said softly, for her ears only.
"What?" She didn't look at him, unwilling to let herself get sucked into promises and declarations that were too tempting. She knew her weakness, her need to believe in people no matter what, and she couldn't let him exploit it.
"Look at me."
"I'd rather not."
"I don't care."
Frustrated, she looked at him, then her heart tightened when she saw the raw agony on his chiseled face. It wasn't simply vulnerability, it was humanity that spoke of a soul so tortured that even this great warrior was unable to hide it. "What?"
He took her hand and pressed it against his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring thud of his heart, the warmth of his flesh through his shirt, and the howling pain in his soul. "I offer you my eternal protection," he said. "I am your servant."
It almost sounded as if he were invoking some ancient ritual binding them together. Terrified, she jerked her hand back. "No, I don't want anything from you."
Something dark and deadly flashed through Ryland's eyes, and she scrambled backward, suddenly scared of what stirred beneath the surface of this man. "Ryland—"
"Damn, man," Thano interrupted. "What happened to the ruthless, selfish bastard on the edge of going completely insane and destroying all that is good in this world? I thought you were pathetic and droopy with the other angels, but you're even worse with this one. You're like a puppy dog in love. What is it with you and angels, dude?"
Ryland ignored Thano and kept his gaze riveted on Catherine, but the truth of Thano's words hung in the air. Catherine could see in Ryland everything Thano had spoken of: the ruthlessness, the selfishness, the insanity, and the destruction of all that was good. It was bleeding through his pores from a source deep inside him.
But that wasn't the scary part of him. The scary thing was that beneath all those things Thano had cited, Catherine sensed a man on the edge of an abyss, someone so loyal and determined that he would indeed give his life for those he had sworn to support. He was born of simple values more pure than the earth itself, when it was swathed in the beauty of a sunrise. The fact that she could see something beautiful in Ryland was terrifying, because it made her vulnerable to him. It made her want to trust him, to put her faith in him, to give the world one more chance to show her she could count on it.
Ryland nodded in apparent agreement. "I'm the right choice," he said quietly. "Believe your gut."
She blinked at the response that seemed to be in direct alignment with what she'd just been thinking. "Can you hear my thoughts?"
"Shit, no." His response was without hesitation. "But you broadcast your emotions with your face. You're easy to read." He grinned. "Sweetheart, I'm one of those ultrasensitive guys who are so tuned into emotions it's like it was born to me. If you cry, I'll hear you. If you decide to trust me, I'll know." Amusement flickered in his eyes. "And if you try to run on me again, I'll find you before you've even figured out where you're going."
She swallowed, his words feeling as comforting as they did scary. What was wrong with her? Those words could only be interpreted as a threat, not as protection. He wanted to take her back with him. She had to go forward. There was no middle ground.
"We camp here tonight," Ryland called out to his team. "We move in the morning. Most things won't go near the river, so we're safest if we stay close to it."
Zach raised his weary head to look at Ryland. "You're sure?"
"Yeah."
Catherine was surprised by the way Zach and Thano didn't question him further. They were in the middle of a strange and hostile territory, and yet his teammates seemed to have complete faith in what Ryland commanded. Zach was already on his feet and gathering wood for a fire, and Thano was unloading Apollo's saddlebags onto a flat, high rock that was level with him from his mounted position. The warriors were quick and efficient, men who had set up camp a thousand times and knew exactly what to do—
"Forgive me, my angel." Ryl
and interrupted her thoughts, and she looked over at him just as he wrapped a vine around her wrist.
She tensed. "What is that?"
"My protection in case you go invisible again." He looped the other end of the vine around his own wrist, and with a quick flick of the wrist, tied them together.
"What?" She lunged to her feet, fighting at the binding. "What are you doing?"
"As I said, you're easy to read. You're not planning on staying with me. I'm damned good at tracking, Catherine, but when you went invisible, you were completely hidden from me. Impressive as hell, but not something either of us can afford." Ryland caught her arm as she fought, steadying her. "The harder you pull, the more the vine will tighten and dig into your arm. Don't fight it. The vine won't break, and it can't be cut. We're bound together until the sunlight dissolves it."
"Dammit!" She fought to get free. "How could you do this? I have to leave! I can't go with you!"
He lightly gripped her arm. "Hey, hey, hey, Catherine. Calm down—"
"I can't! Let me go!" She tore herself out of his grasp, stumbling backward even as the vine tightened, digging into her wrist and—
"Stop it!" Ryland tackled her and tossed her to the ground, pinning her with his weight to the cold earth. "You're going to hurt yourself."
His weight was so heavy, she couldn't move. She was trapped. Trapped. Panic overtook her, her heart hammering frantically. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't get air. "Get off me," she gasped. "Now!"
* * *
Ryland swore as panic took over Catherine. She was losing control, driven by a terror far beyond what the situation should have caused. He could feel it reaching up to grab her, to trap her in a spiral of the mindless insanity of fear. Shit! "Catherine! Come back to me." Tying her to him had been a mistake, and he realized it instantly.
Swearing, he called out his machete and tried to cut the vine, but his weapon glanced off it, repelled by a force darker than he could destroy. "Shit!"
She was trembling beneath him, thrashing and fighting, desperate to get free, but he couldn't release her. "Catherine!" What had she responded to before? He thought back to the brief interactions that they'd had, to those moments when she'd gazed at him without fear, to when she'd looked at him as if she wanted to trust him. It had been when he'd been offering her protection and promising he would keep her safe. She'd responded to that, something inside her needing to hear those words and to believe them.
Shit. He had to tap into that again. "Catherine," he said, fending off her blows as gently as he could. "I'm on your side, I swear it."
No response from her. She was in a blind panic, and her heart rate was escalating dangerously.
Crap! Swiftly, he thought back to that moment in the graveyard when she'd touched his hand, to the intensity of his reaction at the feel of her skin on his, at the intimacy of their moment. Everything had stood still in that moment of connection.
That was it. He had to find that again.
Intimacy and protection. Making her understand his commitment to ensure she was safe with him, and only him. He was no tender guy. He knew shit about sweet nothings. So, swearing under his breath, he bent his head and offered her his protection and connection in the only way he could think of, the one thing he didn't offer to anyone, ever: his kiss.
The moment his lips touched hers, Ryland felt the world come to a screeching halt. A thousand years of darkness seemed to fade, replaced by the most incredible sense of rightness. Catherine went still beneath him, sucking in her breath. Her left hand was poised on his shoulder, her right hand above her head, still tied to his left.
Neither of them moved, their breath mingling as their lips froze in an unexpected connection. Need raced through Ryland. It was a raw, untamed craving for this woman, this angel, this being who was so far above him that he could never prove himself worthy of her. He had no right to kiss her, no right to press his body against hers, and no right to notice her breasts crushed against his chest, but he couldn't pull away.
One whisper of a protest from her and he would retreat, but she didn't give him one. She just stayed beneath him, that one hand on his shoulder, not pushing him away, but not pulling him toward her either.
Need strained at him, but Ryland held himself rigid, refusing to take from this angel what she wasn't willing to give.
But then, oh, heavenly, then, her fingers twitched on his shoulder and dug in, an instinctive reaction so subtle that he knew she hadn't done it intentionally. But it was enough. It gave him the permission he needed. With a low growl of intention, he threaded his fingers though her hair, angled his head, and kissed her for real.
* * *
It was the moment Catherine had been craving her entire life. That moment of beauty and intimacy, that feeling of being cherished and protected, of being wanted with such fierceness that nothing could keep him from her.
Ryland's kiss was electric and intense; flooding her with sensations that seemed to ignite the parts of her that she thought had died so long ago. Desire flooded her, a craving for this man that was so powerful that it terrified her. His lips were demanding and intense, but at the same time, so incredibly soft, as if he would carve out his own heart before hurting her.
His fingers were so gentle in her hair, caressing the strands as if he'd never in his life thought about how easily he could grab a fistful and rip her head back. In his hands, her hair felt like a blessing of seduction and beauty, not a liability that could be used to trap her in a man's fist.
Hopelessly caught in his kisses, she touched his hand, following the path of his fingers as he slid them through the strands, awed by how an action that she'd always felt was so threatening could feel so incredible and seductive.
Her nipples were taut against his chest, her hips were pinned beneath his, and his weight was immobilizing her, but she wasn't afraid. Instead, she felt safe and protected, as if the nightmares in the world could never hurt her, as if this man was the one who could guide her into the place she needed to go—
The realization stunned her. Ryland had led her to the village that was so well-hidden she never would have found it if she hadn't been tracking him. He'd known what was after them in the village, and had been precise and calm in his defense. He'd directed them unerringly to the river, and knew that sleeping next to the river was the safest place for them to be. He knew the area. Dear heaven, was he the one she'd been searching for? The one who could take her to her daughter?
He eased off his kiss. "What is it?" His lips brushed against hers, a private whisper just for her, his cheek resting against hers in an intimate position just for lovers. "What are you thinking, my angel?"
There it was again, that sense that he could read her mind, that he knew what thoughts were spinning around in her head. She shivered, but unlike before, fear stayed dormant, eased by the calm he'd given her with his kiss and tender touches. Right now, he didn't feel like a man who would steal from her. He felt like a protector sent to her as a gift to help her on her way. She knew he was dangerous, and tried to remind herself of that. The man could tell what she was thinking. That was not a good thing. It spoke of a power that he had over her, a closeness that gave him access to her very thoughts and soul. That was bad...no, terrible...no, appalling and terrifying, and she had to remember that.
"I'm not thinking anything," she whispered stiffly, struggling to find the willpower to push him away, but unable to resist basking for one more moment in the feel of his powerful body enveloping her in his protective strength, in the intimacy of his lips against her jaw, and his whiskered cheek against her softer one. "There's nothing to tell."
"You stopped kissing me, but it wasn't fear. Something distracted you," he said, as if explaining the question she'd just posed in her own mind about whether he was reading her thoughts. Again, a chill ran through her. His very explanation about how he knew something was bothering her actually served to reinforce her suspicion that he was reading her mind. He trailed his lips over her jaw. "Ta
lk to me, angel. I'm your servant."
His voice was so urgent, so compelling, and his promise was so achingly appealing. There was no way for her to deny its effect on her, her craving to fall into it and let it envelope her.
Almost against her will, Catherine opened her eyes. She searched the haunted depths of his face, struggling to see the stories and secrets that would reveal him to her. In his eyes, she saw what she had seen before: the danger, the haunted turbulence, the extreme violence, but again, she also saw something else. A humanity. A passion. A connection that seemed to melt into her soul and soften her heart. After being shut down emotionally for so long, it felt so good to encounter a soul that made her want to cry with empathy.
She closed her eyes, trying to break her response to his call, but it didn't help. There was something about this man that seemed to beckon to her. Was it his strength? The suffering she felt in him? Or simply the way he had promised himself to her, sworn to be her right hand, to protect her and serve her? Because what woman wouldn't fall for that, right?
Ryland continued to slide his fingers through her hair, and he bent his head, tucking his face in the crook of her neck. He breathed softly, intentionally, as if basking in her scent in the tender way of a man imprinting his woman on his soul. It was incredible, comforting, and unbelievably seductive.
He pressed his lips to her collarbone, and chills spiraled down her spine. The strangest sense of desire began to build inside her, like distant waves tumbling toward her, growing and building as they roared over the plains. Waves of passion, of need, of sensual awareness. Unable to stop herself, she gripped his hair, her hips shifting beneath his.
"I feel it, too," Ryland whispered, turning his head to kiss his way back up her neck, toward her mouth. "I want to pin you down, tear your clothes off, and make love to you until we both melt into the earth, our very existence burned up in the fire of our lovemaking."
Catherine stiffened as desire pulsed through her belly. "No, no, no," she whispered. "I don't have time. I can't—"
