“Don’t be silly, I’m right here.”
His shoulder muscles bunched, causing a fresh spurt of blood to leak out. “No.”
“But—”
“Get. Izzeri,” he cut her off.
Eve stared at him, dumbfounded. He disliked her touching him that much?
“The Guardians are stubborn sons-of-bitches.” Michael’s tone matched the walls of the granite room. “Them, I have to deal with, but you—”
“Not interested.”
“—are an ass. Izzeri isn’t here. Either let her tend to you or wait until tomorrow. Your choice. It means you’re off rotation longer. You may not be a Guardian, but you will follow the rules. I don’t want you on Ear—in New York until you’re healed.”
He slapped a small bottle on the bedside table and said to Eve, “If he gives you any trouble, pour the damn thing down his throat—should knock him out and give his thick hide time to heal.”
Michael strode out of the room. Eve turned to Reynner and was seared with a stay-the-hell-away glare. The only reason she’d offered to help was because he got hurt trying to protect her.
“If you don’t want me tending to you,” she told him in a determined voice, “you’re going to have to get out of that bed and throw me out.”
She ignored his narrowing eyes, picked up the terrycloth Michael had discarded, and dampened it with warm water. Her hands shook as she reached for him. Despite her brave words, she expected him to jump up and physically toss her out of there.
When he didn’t, she hid her relief and carefully wiped away the blood smeared on his back. Awareness flowed through her at the warmth of his skin beneath her hand, the rock-hard muscles. She wanted to stroke every inch of his tan, sexy body—
Ugh! Eve forced her mind back on her task. Not wanting to hurt him, she kept her touch light as she cleaned off the mess. She dared a glance at him and her heart lurched painfully when she found his dark, intense gaze fixed on her.
Idiot. It means nothing. He’s just making sure you’re treating his injuries and not copping a feel of his gorgeous bod.
But ignoring him became a test of endurance when his burning gaze tracked her every move. She dropped the soiled towel, picked up the jar, and uncapped the ointment. A musty, mossy scent permeated the air.
“What is this?” she asked, needing a moment to calm her fluster.
“A potion. Helps heal the wounds from the hellfire bolts those dead bastards deal out.”
Her gaze flickered to him. Did he expect her to run screaming from the room now that she knew demoniis existed? At times, he frightened her more than those demoniis did!
Ugh, who was she kidding? Her attraction to him terrified her the most.
Taking a deep breath, Eve scooped up the green paste with two fingers and applied it gently to the wounds. “Will this help you? It looks really bad.”
“I’ll heal to fight another day.”
She stopped her ministrations, studied his closed off expression.
His detached response troubled her. Did he not care what happened to him? “Why do you hunt demoniis if you dislike it?”
“You misunderstand me. Destroying the bastards gives me one of life’s few pleasures.” The intense hatred in his voice appalled her. “Shocked you, did I?”
Yes, she was shocked. She was only trying to help. Did he think she was responsible for his current situation? Then she winced. Okay, maybe she was. So she remained silent.
***
Reynner gritted his teeth, pain and fever razing through him. He needed, wanted her touch… It soothed him. No—no, he tried to clear his hazy thoughts. Females—they’re all the same…
He didn’t want her touching him. Too aware of her…not good…not good. Then icy dampness settled over the scorching fire of his wound, blessed relief hissed through him. Cool fingers stroked down the edges of the gauze and he shuddered under her gentle care.
There was something he needed to say, but whatever the hell Michael had pushed down his throat was fogging his mind, and her touch wiped out the rest of his lucid thoughts.
“What is this place?” Eve’s soft voice drifted over him like a tormenting caress.
“Exilum,” he snapped.
She stiffened at his harsh tone. A jagged breath barreled out of him. “It’s a retreat.”
Her hands came back, and another stroke of her cool fingers on his burning flesh. Soothing. Calming.
“Is this like a healing center? I hear water.”
“No. My home.”
“It’s er…nice.”
“It’s not nice. It’s a damn fortress, impenetrable and all that matters. Go wash your hands, don’t let that crap stay on you any longer.” Good. That’s what he’d wanted to tell her.
“Crap?”
Must she question every godsdamn thing?
“Blood, dammit. Now go.” He turned his head away, muttered, “I don’t want that shit tainting you.”
***
Eve entered the bathroom and stopped. She glanced around in appreciation at the grotto-like place with its huge windows overlooking a stunning view of the mountains.
Dropping the stained towels on the counter, she emptied the bloodied water in the white bowl-like basin. Then she stared at her hands as she held them under the open faucet, traces of Reynner’s blood washing away from her puckered skin.
His words had chilled her. Why would he say that? His blood appeared red like hers.
Filled with unease, she closed the tap and looked up. Faced with her reflection in the mirror, she cringed. Dear Lord, it’s a wonder Reynner didn’t mistake her for a ghoul. Her eyes appeared like dark holes in a face gone pale, in spite of her tanned skin.
Exhaling in annoyance, she rubbed her hands over her cheeks, hoping to get some color back, and went back to the bedroom. She stopped at the bedside to find that Reynner had finally fallen asleep. A relieved breath left her. At least he’d get some rest.
She re-checked the gauze over the wound and noticed the tie on his ponytail had slipped to the ends of his hair. Pulling it off, she sat beside him on the bed and combed the shiny strands away from his shoulder. They appeared like moonbeams sliding through her fingers.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” she whispered, her guilt expanding. “I should have stayed in the car—”
A knock sounded. Eve snatched her hand away, heat riding her face as the door opened. Her jaw hit the floor at the man striding toward her.
Where the heck was she? All the men here seemed to have walked right out of a fantasy world. He appeared to be younger than her, closer to Reynner’s height but leaner. He wore some kind of soft black pants. They molded to his muscled thighs and disappeared into well-worn, knee-high black boots. A white tunic with suede lacing in the front emphasized his muscular shoulders.
The guy’s silver eyes flickered to the bed then he turned that extraordinarily handsome face to her. “I came for a visit. But I see he is still out.”
Eve pushed to her feet. “Yes, he is.”
“I am Aerén.”
“Eve—Eve Leighton.” She hid her hands in the folds of her dress, hoping he wouldn’t expect a handshake. He didn’t. Instead, he lowered his head in a sort of half-bow, an olde worlde kind of gentility.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, to know he finally found you,” Aerén said. “You don’t know what a relief this is.”
Eve frowned at his solemn expression. Oh, he must mean about the cell phone mix-up. “Yes, he did. Don’t worry, it’s all sorted out.”
“I’m glad. Eve Leighton, you have my undying gratitude. If you are ever in need of anything, you can call on me.”
For returning Reynner’s cell phone?
“Er, thank you.” Her gaze went to his hair. How could she miss that? Pale blue, like a faded summer sky, it flowed to his shoulders.
“Perhaps you would join me for a meal?” he asked her, pulling her attention back to him.
Despite hunger gnawing a hole in
her belly, she desperately wanted a bath, needed to get the grime from the alley off her before she ate. “I’d like a shower first, but I don’t have any—”
“Clothes?” His gaze glided over her again, but in male appreciation now. Eve wanted to roll her eyes.
“Not a problem. I’m sure Izzeri will find you something.”
Her tummy growled and she cringed in embarrassment.
Aerén merely said, “You should eat first. Come.”
Okay, then. She might as well go eat and satisfy her stomach and her curiosity about Reynner’s home. Eve glanced back at him, but he was still asleep. So, she followed Aerén out of the room and down a short barren corridor.
She stopped at the landing and simply stared around in wonder while Aerén waited patiently beside her. A wooden balustrade and stairs joined the top floor to the ground one. In front of her was a picturesque glass wall. She could see far off into the horizon. The forest far down below took on the appearance of paint smudges in various shades of green. The dark gray mountain range loomed around the house and meandered into the distance.
Did Reynner build his house into a mountain?
Eve glanced around at the granite walls and floors…had to be. Holy crap! “It must have taken a miracle to do this.”
“It did take some time, from what I understand,” Aerén said. “When Reynner sets his mind on something, he gets it done.”
Eager to see more, Eve ran down the staircase to the lower level. The sounds of rushing water drew her. She opened the first door and entered a room with soot-colored leather couches and armchairs. Her gaze flew to the window, and she came to a halt.
“Oh. How lovely.” The power of the cascading waterfalls took her breath away. So close, if the glass wall weren’t in her way, she could almost feel the cool sprays on her face. Beyond the window, a railless balcony ran the perimeter of the place.
Did Reynner not understand how dangerous a balcony with no protective railings was? Guess not. The man did kill demoniis, after all.
“It has a compelling beauty,” Aerén agreed from beside her.
“Where is this place? Reynner said it was a retreat?”
“That it is. Come.” Aerén led her down a short passage toward the kitchen.
The tantalizing smell of fresh bread and something savory teased her nose as Aerén opened the door. And she almost whimpered with hunger.
However it wasn’t the kitchen, which had the same scenic windows as the rest of the place that snagged her attention, but the wiry man working at one of the counters. Attired in a navy tunic and pants, he was of indiscernible age. He’d fastened his long, copper hair into a loose braid, revealing his sharp, pale features.
At her entrance into the room, he looked up and his gold eyes widened in astonishment. He stared at her like he’d seen a miracle or something.
And she stared—because dammit, how could she not? His ears—the tops were tapered into points!
“Hey, Izzy. You’re back?” Aerén said from behind her.
“Indeed.” The man winced, probably at the nickname, but his gaze remained on her.
“Forget it, fae.” Aerén snorted. “Eve, this is Izzeri, Reynner’s houseman.”
“Mistress.” He bowed his head at the introduction. “A rare pleasure, indeed. The meal is almost ready. You must be hungry.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, aware of the mewling grumble of her dying tummy. “I’m sorry you had to delay going home.”
“I don’t mind at all.” He smiled. “Excuse me, mistress.”
Eve glanced away, taking in the small kitchen. The thick, massive glass panes muted the roar of the falls, but allowed the waning sunlight into the kitchen. Bronzed wood cupboards with gray granite countertops took up one part of the room. On the other side, near the window, a wooden dining table overlooked a stunning view of the mountains and was set for a meal for one.
Izzeri quickly and efficiently added another place setting, while Aerén held out a chair for her and then took the one opposite her. The setting sun cast a fiery shimmer over his pale blue hair.
“Is that real, the color of your hair?”
Aerén’s expression turned stark. He pulled a swathe to the front and stared at the strands. Remorse filled her at the grief in his eyes. Hurriedly, Eve backtracked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just so unusual.”
“It’s all right. We—I mean my brothers and I inherited this hair from our sire… Ah, here is our food.”
His entire mood changed when Izzeri approached, a smile chasing away the grimness. The houseman gave her another appraising look as he laid the dishes on the table then uncovered their contents; fresh rolls, curls of soft, golden butter, and a tureen of steaming broth.
“Why does Izzeri look at me like that?” she lowered her voice to ask as she split open a fresh roll and lathered it with butter.
Amusement lifted the corner of Aerén’s lips. He shook his head. “Let us eat first. Questions later.”
***
Night settled like a blanket around them. Orb-like lights from the ceiling cast a golden glow over the house when Eve headed back to Reynner’s room.
She had gotten an answer of sorts from Aerén. Izzeri had never seen someone like you. She didn’t know how to take that remark. But mostly, dinner conversation had included Aerén firing question after question at her about her life. You’d think he’d never heard of a woman living alone and working. Sheesh. Men!
Eve closed the door softly behind her. As she crossed the room, she saw the black tunic Izzeri had draped over the armchair. She checked on Reynner, but he remained in the same position she’d left him, his eyes shut and his mouth in a tight line.
Fighting against the impulse to stroke his face and ease his discomfort, she grabbed the tunic and headed for the bathroom. In relief, Eve shed her rumpled clothes and stepped into the glass shower, only to discover that there were no faucets. She stared at the gentle flow streaming down from the high ledge in the granite wall. Her hopes of a bath dashed.
Now what? How the heck was she to flatten herself against the rough stone surface to shower?
A sudden gush of warm water hit her square in the face.
Argh—Eve sputtered. Wiping away the wetness, she scowled. Sensor operated. She should have known.
Glancing around, Eve found a bar of soap and a jar of gel in a small niche in the wall. She stuck her finger in the goo. Like the forest after the rains, the fresh, familiar scent teased her nose. The pang in her grew. He called to her like an irresistible, seductive flame. God, she didn’t want to start feeling this way about someone, whom instinct warned her to steer clear of.
Eve pushed aside those feelings and hurried through her shower. After toweling off, she hung her washed undies on the towel rail then pulled on the tunic. The shirt swamped her, dropping to mid-thigh. At least it was black and would not reveal her lack of underwear.
She fastened the suede ties, rolled back the too long sleeves, and stilled as an eerie sensation slid over her. The hairs on her arms rose.
Eve hurried into the softly lit bedroom, rubbed the goosebumps on her skin, and glanced around. Movement on the bed diverted her. Reynner strained and grunted, his fingers digging into the mattress like he fought some nightmare that held him in its grips. He rolled over as she sprinted to his side.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She soothed, sweeping the sweat-dampened hair away from his face. And prayed his agitated movements wouldn’t cause his wounds to bleed again. Keeping her tone gentle, she sat on the bed and stroked his arm as she spoke, hoping to ease him.
A sudden slash of pain slammed through her, she jerked back, unable to breathe. Darkness surrounded her, seeping into her mind. It hauled her into its carnivorous jaw, pulling her into his dreams. Panting hard, she blinked and struggled to see through the hazy gloom.
A wet, coppery odor drifted to her. Bile rose to her throat at the stench. Raucous breathing grated her ear.
And there aga
inst the shadowy walls of an obscure cell, she saw him.
His gaze wild as an animal’s, he crouched in the shadows, naked. Waiting…
Chapter 7
Reynner remained motionless in the dark dungeon as sludge squelched between his toes.
His wings trailed behind him in the muck, an added weight, unable to conceal them. There wasn’t a smidgen of light to aid his sight. He had no idea how much time, how many years—decades—had passed in this shithole.
The metallic scent of blood layered his nostrils and coated his tongue like he’d sucked on pennies. His breathing labored. Two obscure shapes slithered across the slimy floors.
The bastards were back for their games. He didn’t need light to know that. Their putrid stench of decay took over the sulfur that had become a normal part of his existence.
A flash of cunning obsidian eyes, and the huge, seven-foot-tall, lizard-like creatures attacked, claws ripping at his wounds that had no time to heal. His powers were so muted, all he managed was a weak flare that flickered and died. Only his will spurred on by adrenaline unleashed the beast raging inside and drove him for the kill. He grabbed one scaly fucker around the throat as its talons pierced into his flesh, and twisted the thing’s neck.
A shriek ricocheted off the walls. A lash of razor-sharp nails in his chest forced Reynner to his knees. Pain saturated his being. Slimy saliva dripped over his hair as the wyvern opened its jaw, revealing a mouthful of pointy teeth.
Maybe he’d finally find oblivion. Prayed for it.
Death. So close…so close.
“Enough!” a bell-like voice ordered.
No matter what kind of demonic monsters Kalinin sent to torture him, they weren’t allowed to kill him. None dared go against his captor, the succubus bitch.
A flicker of candlelight cast a dim glow in the dungeon. Kalinin stood behind the metal bars. Her dark red gown matched her hair. A lust-filled expression on her pale face.
Urias, if only she stepped foot into his cell, even an inch—he’d rip her fucking head off. Then he’d go after Inanna for putting him in this hell.
Darkness Undone Page 7
