Darkness Undone

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  With a deep sigh, she couldn’t suppress, Eve slid a glance to David—the guy who would make her a woman, if her friend had her way. As if having boobs and PMS didn’t already mark her as one, she thought with wry amusement.

  David waited patiently to greet her. An artist like her, his collection of paintings would debut tomorrow at Eric’s gallery. A few inches taller than Eve’s own five-foot-six, he was slender with overgrown sandy-brown hair that had a tendency to flop into his eyes. Colorful dabs of paint marred his navy tee. Eve hid her smile, knowing he’d probably forgotten to change. But then David’s philosophy ran along the lines “as long as I'm not naked.” She doubted even that would bother him.

  “Hello, David.”

  “Happy, happy day, Eve.” Pleasure lit his narrow, attractive face as his gaze skimmed over her in appreciation.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Yep, he made no bones about the fact he liked her. But the gleam in his light blue eyes and the empty wine glass showed that he’d already made headway into starting the party. He took her gloved hand and kissed her knuckles, making her smile.

  She sat in the chair he held out and accepted the flute of sparkling wine Eric handed her.

  “A toast.” He raised his glass. “To our girl, Eve.”

  The music made speeches impossible, but emotion crowded her, and she basked in her friends’ love. They accepted her despite the fact that she could never touch them without a barrier of protection. Not since the accident.

  The car crash that had killed her parents didn’t just leave her with scarred hands, but also a far bleaker legacy. She couldn’t touch another without being drawn into their minds, seeing their thoughts, and feeling their emotions. And it wasn’t without repercussions.

  A sudden influx of strong, emotional energy from another, and unbearable pain followed, so much so that she sometimes lost consciousness.

  Eve pushed the painful thoughts aside as Kataya had set a small bakery box on the table.

  “Okay,” she yelled above the music, tucking a few spirally red strands behind her ear. “Before we all get rip-roaring drunk, here…” She flipped open the cover to reveal a red velvet cupcake. The creamy icing on top simply read, ‘Happy Birthday.’

  Brenna stuck a pink candle in the center, lit it, and slid the box to Eve. She smiled, flashing twin dimples. “Because we love you and know you hate the fuss. So, make a wish, make thousands, and may they all come true!”

  Overwhelmed, Eve tugged at the small, gold, half-hoop earring she wore. She didn’t have any family, but this little group was hers.

  Eve glanced at her friends’ happy faces. Ten long years without physical contact and emptiness crowded her heart. Just once she yearned to hold them—to hold someone she loved.

  Inhaling roughly, because she might as well wish for the moon, Eve blew out the candle.

  They handed her a card and a small flat box covered in red foil and tied with a silver bow. They’d covered the card with well wishes and xoxo’s. Then she ripped open the package and found a gold bracelet with four charms nestled in white tissue.

  At a guess she knew exactly which charm came from whom. The daisy from Brenna, because Eve loved them, the ladder from Eric—probably for her success in her new venture, the clover leaf from Kat, for luck—she hoped, and the double heart? David.

  She really, really wished he hadn't given her that.

  “Thank you.” She slipped on the bracelet then drank her wine to ease the tightness in her throat.

  David nudged her arm, picked up the wine bottle. “Top up?”

  “No, not yet.”

  She’d met David several months ago through Eric. Even though she could touch David without a painful influx of thoughts and feelings flooding her, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Instead, his creatively charged mind usually pulled her into a maelstrom of colors that left her with a low-grade headache.

  If she decided to date David like he wanted, she’d have to tell him of her affliction. She could only hope he wouldn’t run off in the opposite direction.

  “Ready for your show?” she asked him.

  David blew out a heavy breath, picked up his wine and took a deep swallow. “Ask me after.”

  Eve laughed. She understood his qualms since her own debut loomed in front of her just over a week away. Her stomach knotted at the thought. If her sculptures didn’t take off, she may as well find her own cardboard box and call it home.

  Eve pushed the gloomy thought aside. She wanted to enjoy this evening and not think of what if. Sipping her drink, she took in the crowded nightclub. Her attention wandered to the VIP section on the second level, corded off from the common folks for the rich and famous and their wild partying.

  The hunk with the pale hair would be up there, she mused. Bet he wouldn’t be alone for long. Women must be drawn to him like bees to pollen.

  Ugh, when had she become this petty? And over a man? A stranger, for goodness sake!

  “Dance?” David yelled in her ear. His smile took on a fiendish appearance in the eerie purple strobe light. He crossed his eyes, exaggerating his odd look and nodded to the dance floor. Eve laughed, putting the stranger out of her mind.

  Perhaps Kat was right, maybe she should take a chance with David.

  ***

  Heavy rock music blasted off the walls and settled in Reynner’s head. Flashing lights almost blinded his sensitive eyes. He wished Michael had rethought their meeting place. The club thronged with people. And he didn't like crowds.

  Reynner leaned against the steel balustrade running the length of the gallery that overlooked the dance floor. He ignored the skimpily dressed women trying to make eye contact, his attention on the approaching male.

  Dressed all in black, the leader of the Guardians fit in with most of the club’s clientele, but for his exceptional height of six foot nine. Strands of night-dark hair escaped their tie and framed a face that appeared carved from granite. Shades covered eyes Michael didn’t reveal to the human populace.

  The females tracked him with covetous looks, drawn by the angelic allure, but something about him made them keep their distance. Had to be the hands-off, hard-ass look the archangel wore like a mantle.

  Michael had been the one to find him eons ago, killing demoniis like some demented being after he’d escaped Hell. The archangel had hauled Reynner off to Exilum, a sanctuary for immortals and a place he now called home. Yeah, he owed Michael big time, and it was why he continued to hunt supernatural evil wherever he was while searching for the foretold one.

  Michael handed him a squat glass before taking a swallow of his coke.

  Reynner cocked a brow. “What’s up?”

  “Aethan’s back in New York.”

  Hearing that name, Reynner’s stomach churned. Nothing would ever ease his guilt. He’d accepted long ago that he should have been banished for Ariana’s death, not Aethan. Not the male who’d once been his best friend.

  “Anything else?”

  Michael gave him a long, hard stare. “Why don’t you meet him? Get this shit out of the way. You were friends once.”

  “Friendships fall apart all the time. Besides, it’s too late for that.” Three millennia too late. Aethan probably hated his guts.

  Michael gave him a hard stare then shook his head. “You’re one stubborn bastard.”

  Whatever. He needed to focus on finding the female tied to the scroll. Two damn months in this city, and still no sign of her. It was time to move on, to scry for another possible location. He had no desire to bump into his old friend and revisit a past they could never shake. Or put right.

  “Thanks for the heads up.” Reynner handed his untouched liquor to a passing waitress and headed out. As he cleared the stairs, a visceral hunger slammed him square in the chest. He skidded to a halt.

  What the hell?

  Inhaling harshly, he rubbed his sternum and scanned the place. Beneath the layers of liquor, sweat, and heavy perfume, a delicate fragrance with a tantalizing hint of peach
seeped into him and stroked his senses. His body went into slow burn. Blood heated. His groin hardened. A strange, urgent need took hold of him. Compelled, he tracked the scent down the corridor. But the trail disappeared into the restroom where a pack of females took their own sweet time entering their shrine. Did women do nothing solo?

  Irritated and forced to cool his heels, Reynner waited. His cell vibrated. He checked the text then ignored it. Damn interfering angel. Michael never gave up trying to fix a broken past.

  Reynner leaned against the wall several feet from the bathroom door and willed off the light above him. With his height and hair, the attention he drew was a bloody nuisance. Throw in his cursed angelic allure—yeah, the shit was a guaranteed trouble magnet. He clamped down on his psychic shields, his attention fixed on the restroom, cell phone tapping against his thigh.

  Whoever the female was that had worked her mojo on him would wish to the high heavens she hadn't. He’d made that mistake once with Inanna and had paid the price for his stupidity. He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

  ***

  Eve stared at her reflection in the restroom mirror, tucked her long bangs behind her ear, and inhaled a deep breath. Everything about this evening was heading in the direction she wanted. So why was she having second thoughts?

  Deep down, she understood her hesitation. She wanted to fall in love—have what her parents had had before their deaths—but with her affliction, it was but a dream.

  She raked back her hair and sighed. Earlier, she’d casually touched David’s hand minus gloves, just to be sure, and colors had roared to life in her head. Thankfully, without the painful invasion of thoughts and feelings she normally got from others. But the impulsive brush had left her with a slight throb in her temples.

  So what did she do?

  Surrender to dating a man she liked despite the headaches or live a lonely life?

  A noisy group of women entered and broke through her depressing thoughts. Her cell beeped. She grabbed her gloves off the basin, retrieved the phone from her bag, and read the text. A belated wish from one of her old coworkers.

  Smiling at the exploding birthday cake gif, Eve left the bathroom and crashed face-first into a brick wall of muscles.

  Aw, crap! Her open purse flew to the floor, scattering its contents. She stumbled back but her half-hoop earring caught on the soft fabric of his shirt, jerking her forward. Pain blinded her. Gasping, Eve blinked back tears as she pulled free. Calloused hands steadied her. At the strong grip, goosebumps flooded her skin and the fine hairs on her arms rose.

  Her gaze snapped up. And up. The air rushed out of her lungs. Apology and throbbing ear forgotten, Eve gaped at the man holding her.

  So beautiful…

  But there was nothing feminine about him. A beautiful warrior. A towering wall of unyielding muscles, the only thing missing was a sword. Power stamped his tough body and etched the hard lines of his incredible face. His pale, moonlit hair was tied back to reveal the sculptured lines of his jaw. Eyes like midnight skies, stroked with a slash of indigo, remained cold. Flat.

  Eve faltered at the complete lack of emotion on such a handsome face. She snatched her hands back from the soft leather of his burgundy coat, heat streaking her face at gawking like an idiot and lowered to her knees to gather her strewn things. Lipstick, brush, tissues...

  She started in surprise when he hunkered before her in a rustle of leather, and in fluid moves, collected the rest of her things. The man smelled incredible. Wild and crisp like the forest after the rain. Without a word, he dropped her stuff into her bag, handed it to her, then picked up his cell and slipped it into his coat pocket.

  It took her a moment to collect her scattered wits, aware of his cold, dark eyes studying her. Uneasy, she pushed to her feet and closed her bag. “Er, thank you.”

  Still silent, he rose, too. And startling all heck out of her, he reached out and touched her ear. Eve jerked away and winced, pain simmering to life once more, then she saw the blood smeared on his fingertips.

  Oh, wonderful, she was bleeding. Before it dripped down her neck and her friends called 911, she hustled for the restroom again. She tore some paper towels from the dispenser and examined the wound in the mirror when another image joined hers. Her breath strangled her throat.

  Him.

  She swung around, wariness overriding her attraction when she looked into that cold, unforgettable face. “You can't come in here?”

  “I just did.”

  Chapter 2

  Her voice—just the sound of her voice—and it eased his edginess, soothing the nightmares and constant pain riding him. It shook the solid foundations of the walls he’d built around him after he’d escaped from Hell so long ago.

  “What are you doing—this is the ladies?”

  Her horrified voice hauled Reynner back to the dank bathroom and feminine whispers. He issued a silent command for the gaggle of females eyeing him like some damn prize to leave.

  “And so it is,” he said as the door closed behind the women, turning the loud music from the club into a muted thumping.

  She blinked her thickly fringed forest-green eyes. With skin a dusky gold, she appeared as if she’d wandered out from one of the desert climes. Nervous, scarred fingers brushed back hair the color of black coffee. The silky strands fell in a seductive sweep around her face to settle on her shoulders. Blood dripped down her neck from her injured ear.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I know that, but you can't be in here.”

  In response, he reached out and tugged free the paper towel she clutched to her chest like armor. “I hurt you, I’ll aid you.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Yeah, one he’d instigated. He cupped her delicate face, angled her jaw to examine the wound, and found her lobe had torn a little. Gently, he dabbed the blood.

  She gasped, recoiling in pain. He didn’t let go. Her pulse beat rapidly beneath his thumb as he wiped away the blood on her neck and scanned her psyche for that unexplained pull.

  Nothing. So what the hell was it that drew him to her?

  Except for his body’s reaction to her, he could pick up no false reading from her emotional grid. If anything, she seemed wary of him.

  He met her suspicious eyes. “This is hardly a come-on. If I want a female, this is the last place I’d take one to for a tryst.”

  Color rushed across her cheeks at his blunt words and her gaze lowered. A spark of remorse pricked his conscious. He didn’t care for this feeling of guilt—didn't like being enclosed in this claustrophobic place with its overflowing trashcans. But her essence enfolded him in sunshine. Light. All he’d need to survive. It made him uneasy.

  Why would a human affect him this way?

  Empyreans didn’t do well when trapped in darkness for prolonged periods. They lost control and became raging beasts…

  Reynner shut off those dark thoughts and concentrated on his task. The pale blue light of his healing powers streamed from his fingers and coalesced on the injury. This wasn’t his strongest ability, but he’d do what he could and be on his way.

  Her smooth brow puckered. She probably sensed the slight heat from his healing. Her slender fingers grabbed his wrist, barely circling it.

  “Look, I'm sure it’s stopped bleeding.” She tugged at his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

  The abrasions on her palms scraped across his skin, yanking him back to another place, another time…

  His wrists bled, rubbed raw from the manacles. Unimaginable pain shimmered through him, rendering him breathless. His old wounds opened and new ones formed.

  “I should thank the bitch-goddess for drugging you first before tossing you my way,” the demoness, Kalinin, said with an avaricious smile. “So rare to have one of your kind in my care.”

  “Fuck…you.” His snarl sounded more like a drunken slur.

  She laughed, flicking back hair the color of coagulated blood from her pale, frighteningly exquisite face. “Tha
t beautiful power, that light, is all mine. Imagine, I can take your blood and revel in the brightness without becoming demonii.” Her laughter spilled out and flayed his flogged skin like broken glass.

  And he, the most powerful of his kind, lay there like a fucking statue, unable to move, to fight. While the succubus bitch he’d been trapped with relished in his torture.

  Urias, he had to find a way out of this hellhole—had to—

  Kalinin smirked, as if she knew his thoughts. “None can escape me, Empyrean…you’ll see.” A taunting gleam lit her malevolent black eyes. “I always get what I want.”

  Never! Unmitigated hatred burned his soul and lanced his skull—

  “Hey? You okay?”

  His grip tightened around the slender throat. The fragile bones beneath his inhuman strength made little impact on him.

  The sound of harsh coughing slammed his ears. Frantic fingers clawed at his hands. “Stop—stop it!”

  Fear hit him hard, bringing him back fast. Reynner stared into panicked green eyes and tried to shake off the red haze stealing his mind.

  Kalinin was dead—dead!

  Hastily, he let her go and she stumbled back, hitting the basin. She rubbed her throat, fear and anger welling in her eyes.

  He had to get out of here before he totally lost his fucking mind and did the female irreparable harm. The bitch was dead! And still his past continued to haunt him.

  Willing her pain into him, Reynner tore out of the restroom like the gateway to Hell had reopened and would haul him back.

  A short distance from the club, he stopped and fought to calm down. He’d never lost control like this before. Too many unpleasant memories surfaced. It had to be because of the green-eyed female. Her soft peach-like fragrance saturated his senses and messed with his mind.

  He rubbed a shaky hand over his face. A coppery odor drifted to him. Beneath the silvery moonlight, he stared at the traces of her blood on his fingertips. Compelled by some unseen force, he licked the smear…a faint melodious note hummed through his body.