Linsey Hall - Stolen Fate (The Mythean Arcana #4)

by Unknown

  There were a few murmurs of assent and Ian nodded along with everyone else. He’d never learned the stories as a child like other Mytheans, but he’d been told about them in prison. The war had occurred thousands of years ago in Eastern Europe, at a time when the Roman gods were busy in Italy and the Celtic gods in Britain. But the continent had been a mess. Four groups of gods from four different pantheons—all lost to mortal memory now because they’d destroyed themselves—had erupted into war on earth. The gods had come down to the mortals in an attempt to gain more worshipers. Not unlike the visits that the Roman gods had paid the Romans.

  But there’d been too many gods. Too many choices on display for the mortals. It had erupted into war. The mortals fought for their one true religion, and the gods fought to be the leaders of it.

  They’d nearly wiped out the entirety of the four pantheons and the mortals who fought the wars, until finally, with few left to worship and even fewer to rule, they’d convened to discuss the future. To save their own hides and ensure that nothing like that happened again, they’d agreed to sign the covenant that would allow gods to visit earth, but only in limited numbers and not for the purposes of war or gaining more worshipers. Other gods who hadn’t been involved in the war had agreed after seeing what had become of the pantheons that had engaged in war on the continent.

  “So, Carthe dinna like the restrictions of the covenant?” Fiona asked. She caught Ian’s gaze, then looked away.

  “Not at all,” Aerten said. “He was one of the dissenters to the original covenant. He was forced to sign anyway, of course, and agree not to come to earth to seek more followers, and thus more power.”

  “So why start something now? It’s been thousands of years,” Ian said.

  Several murmurs from the council echoed his sentiment. Darrence glared at him, but he didn’t bother to respond.

  “As punishment for the Divine War, Carthe’s afterworld and the others that started the fight were closed off. The sentence was just lifted a couple hundred years ago. That’s probably when he started to look for the book,” Lea said.

  “Didn’t anyone foresee that as being a problem?” Darrence asked.

  “That they’d go for the book once their afterworld was reopened? Nay, because we never expected to lose it in the first place. We thought it’d be safe with us,” Lea said.

  Arrogance had never been in short supply at the university.

  “So the book is in Carthe’s afterworld. How do we get there?” Fiona asked.

  “I can get you there,” a dark-haired woman said. “But Dalen, as their afterworld is called, is hard to access. It will take me time to find the path through the aether.”

  “Vivienne is new to the world of myth,” Lea said. “Barely a month ago she discovered that she’s a Jinn of the Sila subspecies and that she has full access to the aether and all its afterworlds.”

  “But because I’ve never been there, it will take me some time to find the path,” Vivienne said.

  “How long?” Fiona asked.

  “A few hours. A day.”

  “There’s no way faster?” Lea asked.

  “No. But we can leave as soon as I find it. I can take up to four people.”

  “Good,” Fiona said. “Myself and Ian and two others.”

  “Don’t think you’re going after it!” Darrence said.

  “The hell I’m no’,” Fiona said. “We need a Historius to track it, and I know the signal. No’ to mention that it’s my fate!”

  “She’s right,” Aerten said. “It is her fate. And she’s already close to it.”

  “Then he’s not going.” Darrence pointed at Ian.

  Gods, he was being a bastard just to be one. But several of the other council members were murmuring their agreement.

  Fiona caught Ian’s eye, then said, “He comes too. He’s a Sylph. If we’re going into an afterworld, we sure as hell canna kill the gods. They’ll be too powerful. Our only chance is to sneak in and steal the book. We’ll need his invisibility.”

  Darrence opened his mouth, but Lea cut him off. “It’s done. Her logic is too sound to ignore. Fiona and Ian will go to Dalen with two Mythean Guardians. Ian’s collar will be modified so that he can use his invisibility.”

  “Fine. But they’ll be dragging him back to his cell as soon as it’s done.” Darrence’s head looked like it might pop off his neck.

  Bloody bastard. No doubt he was still angry about all the artifacts that Ian had stolen—or destroyed—over the course of his career. Acquirers hated treasure hunters more than most.

  “I’ll get to work seeking the afterworld. I’ll let you know when I find it,” Vivienne said.

  “Thank you,” Fiona said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After having Ian’s collar modified and stopping by the healer to have their wounds tended, Fiona and Ian rode to her house in silence. Thank gods they hadn’t thrown him back into his cell for the night. They had faith in the collar, and she wondered if Lea had pulled a few strings. Though there was no reason to go back to the flat, part of Fiona wished desperately to be able to. To go back in time before she was certain Ian would be imprisoned again. Once she’d grown to like him, she’d hoped his service in helping retrieve the book would get him a reprieve.

  How wrong she’d been. Everything with the book and the gods and her damned career was flying out of control, and her feelings for Ian were following suit.

  Ian. Who had risked his life for her. Gods, she’d been in the archives so long that she’d forgotten this job could actually kill a person.

  The pressure to find the book, to fix her fate and her life, had been building slowly over the last five years. It had taken her father a decade to go mad. She was getting close. Now, with all that was happening, it was like one of those great boulders in the Hall of Geology. Bearing down on her until she would be crushed.

  She parked her car in the little drive and climbed out. Silence made her thoughts echo louder in her head as she let Ian into her house. She shut the door behind them and flipped on the light in her little living room. The dullness of her life blared at her. Boring white walls and books and reams of paper. Fluffy Black trotted out from the bedroom to greet her. Tufts of wild black fur stuck out of her at all angles, and bright green eyes peered up at Fiona demandingly.

  As least she had Fluffy. She reached down and picked up the cat and hugged her, absorbing comfort from the small body. Ian walked up to stand before her.

  “A cat?”

  Fiona nodded, her mind drowning in worry. “Fluffy Black.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up and he rubbed Fluffy’s head. Fluffy’s rumbly purr vibrated against Fiona’s chest.

  “No’ the cleverest name. Yet you’re a verra clever woman.”

  “No’ when it comes to naming cats.” What would happen to Fluffy if she never recovered the book? Fluffy squirmed, and Fiona realized that she was holding her too tightly. Fiona set Fluffy on the ground.

  “Doona fret.” Concern gleamed in his black eyes.

  “I doona know how to stop.”

  He reached out and pulled her against him, his hands cupped around her neck and back. His lips were hot and soft on hers, devouring. Feeling hit her like a heat wave, and propelled by the madness of her life and her despair over the possible future, she kissed him back, throwing herself into it.

  It was crazy. She’d known him such a short time but she didn’t care. She wanted to forget it all for a while. She wanted him.

  The low groan that tore from his throat spoke of desire and longing that had been building for decades.

  She shuddered, the memory of him getting nearly crushed by the boulder too horrible to contemplate. It just made her more desperate, made her kiss him back so hard that her mouth would surely bruise.

  What a terrible pair they made—an unrepentant convict and an Acquirer—yet she found it hard to care about that when his tongue thrust into her mouth and stroked.

  His arm, roped thickly w
ith muscle, wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her against his chest. She raised trembling hands and ran them over the cut pecs and abs she’d admired the other night.

  Aye, it was very hard indeed to think of why this was a bad idea.

  “More,” she whispered, and gasped when he swept her up into his arms. “The bedroom is down the hall.”

  His footfalls were no longer thief-light as he strode toward the bedroom and it thrilled her to know his control was fraying.

  He laid her on the bed and tore off his shirt before following her down. The hall light glinted off the hard lines of his muscles and made her fingertips itch to touch him.

  She swallowed and raised her arms to him. He put a knee on the bed, then crawled up between her thighs and settled himself between them, his face level with hers.

  The heat and hardness of him made her gasp.

  “I want you, Fiona, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  She pulled his head down to her, kissing him until her head spun and her breath heaved in and out of her chest.

  “Gods, you feel good.” He pulled his mouth from hers and traced his way down her neck.

  She reached down to his fly, the zipper cutting into her fingertips. She barely got her fingers inside, barely brushed the heat and hardness of him, before he lifted her arms away and pinned them over her head.

  “Careful, lassie, or this will no’ last as long as we’d hoped.”

  “I doona care.” She pulled against his arms.

  He let go, but before she could reach for him again, he’d shifted down the bed and out of her reach. She dropped her head back on the pillow and gripped his shoulders. Cold air kissed her stomach as he pushed her shirt up, followed by the heat of his mouth. She arched beneath him when his lips traced her ribs.

  Desperate, she yanked the shirt off. He quickly unclasped her bra and kissed her nipples, tracing the sensitive skin with his tongue until she was panting.

  “I wanted to savor you.” His words formed a delightful pattern against her nipple. “But I find that it’s still too difficult to go slowly.”

  He swiftly unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them from her hips, taking her underwear with them. She felt his hands tremble as he parted her thighs, heard the groan that tore from his throat.

  She jerked when he pressed his mouth, hot and open, to her sex, and plunged his tongue deep. He stroked and licked and sucked until her head was thrashing back and forth on the pillow and the room dimmed out of her vision.

  The taste of Fiona made Ian’s mind fog and his cock hard enough to drive nails. The way she arched off the bed, pressing herself to him, made his control flag. He’d wanted to take this slow, to savor her and the things they did together.

  His body had different ideas. Tension and lust tightened his muscles and his mind and made him into the animal he’d so often protested he wasn’t.

  Fiona cried out and her body started to jerk against him, her orgasm making her twist on the bed.

  Need suddenly crashed over him, dark and strong. The desire to be inside her, to feel her clutch around his cock, grabbed hold of him. He drew his mouth away and surged up over her body until they were face to face.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered. Her skin was flushed and her eyes bright.

  “I need you inside me.”

  The words made him shudder.

  She drew his head down to hers and kissed him hard, then arched her hips against him until the wetness of her core pressed against his cock.

  He lost control of the kiss and groaned against her lips, the sound as close to that of an animal as a man could make. She was hot and wet and soft and so fucking perfect.

  He lifted his head from hers as he fisted his cock and placed it at her entrance. The heat and wetness of her kissed the head of his shaft, making him want to drive home hard and fast.

  “Now.” Her voice was needy, and it made his chest swell.

  She wanted him.

  He pushed into her heat, catching her gaze as he did so. He tried to watch her, to hold her gaze as her body enveloped him, but the blinding pleasure forced his eyes closed as it gripped him in a whirlwind.

  So much fucking better than he remembered.

  “More,” she said.

  Ian’s body took over and he surged inside of her. He shuddered, dropped his forehead to hers, then picked up a rhythm that had her gasping and clutching at his shoulders.

  The way her pussy gripped his cock made his balls tighten and his mind blur until he was just a mass of feeling. He wanted to hold back until she came, but his body was tightening up and the orgasm was rising relentlessly.

  In a burst of energy, she shuddered beneath him, her core spasming as an orgasm wracked her. Immediately, his hips lost their rhythm, thrusting gracelessly as his body took over and sought that crashing wave of release.

  When it hit him, hard and fast, his head jerked back and a roar tore from his throat. The gripping, enormous power of the thing made him shudder and heave over her, completely lost in his mind and his body and out of control.

  Finally, it passed. He opened his eyes to look down at her, utmost contentment fighting with nerves. He’d lost his mind temporarily. Had he hurt her?

  No. From the hazy smile on her face and the softness in her eyes, no.

  He rolled off of her and dragged her to him, pulling her against his side. It had all happened so fast and —

  Oh shite. His eyes popped open.

  “I dinna use protection,” he said. As Mytheans, they couldn’t pass disease. But pregnancy, that was a problem.

  Though would it be so bad?

  “I’m fine,” she said, her lazy voice interrupting the insanity of his thoughts. “I have an IUD. It’s a little device that prevents pregnancy. That was amazing, by the way.”

  His head dropped back on the pillow, relief and disappointment surging through him.

  Oh, fuck. He really was losing it. To even contemplate her being pregnant with joy? He could still be sent back to prison, for gods’ sakes.

  Yet the idea held undeniable appeal. Sacrificing himself for her back at the museum had been crazy, as she’d said. But it had also felt natural. And good.

  But it didn’t matter how he felt about her. Prison awaited him at the end of this if he didn’t steal the book from her and force her to release him. Losing her job would crush her. He’d seen how important it was to her. And she’d hate him for it.

  Hell. Falling for her was only creating more impossible problems. And he already had enough of those.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Okay, we’ll be there soon.” Fiona hung up with Lea and glanced at the clock. Four thirty in the morning. They’d only gotten a few hours’ sleep, but it was for the best.

  “Vivienne has found the way to Dalen?” Ian asked. He looked so good, stretched out on her bed.

  “Aye. We can go over there now.”

  He nodded and then climbed out of bed. Her muscles ached from exhaustion and use, but her mind was raring to go. As she dressed, her thoughts whirled in circles. She couldn’t banish the memory of what had just happened between them, or her fear of the future.

  She was falling for him.

  Which was crazy. It had been such a short time. Her life was in shambles. How could this be happening to her?

  But she couldn’t help it. Gods, she was an idiot.

  And they were screwed. Ian was going to be thrown back in prison. Last night, the university council members had been clear on that. They had the power to ensure it.

  The university played with them like puppets. And it pissed her off.

  She shoved on her shoes and went to the closet. She rifled through the clothes, squinting into the dark. Near the back she found an old turtleneck sweater. She pulled the black wool out and eyed it.

  It should be big enough. Her brother had left it here ages ago, but he was nearly as big as Ian.

  “What’s that?”

  Fiona turned to see Ian, dressed and re
ady to go.

  She held out the sweater. “This is for you.”

  “Thanks.” Confusion edged his voice. “You doona like my clothes? I doona blame you. They’re glorified prison attire.”

  “That’s no’ it. None cover your neck.”

  Surprise flashed across his features and he raised his hand to his neck.

  Bracing herself to break a damn big rule and possibly throw this whole thing in the toilet, she thrust the sweater into his hands. “Wear the sweater so that no one else knows the collar is gone.”

  His eyes flashed to hers, shock in their bright depths. “You’d really take it off?”

  “If you promise no’ to run until we find the book. I need your help.”

  “You could lose your job if you let me escape. That’s what you’ve worked so hard for all these years.”

  The idea carved out a hollow place in her chest, but she realized that it wasn’t nearly as big as the hole that would be left if he had to go back to prison.

  “The most important thing is saving my sanity. Let me worry about my job. I thought I wanted it more than anything except my sanity, but if they’re all going to be such assholes, maybe I was wrong.” She raised her hands to his neck, snapped the collar in half, and drew it away. “When this is over, you’ll run for it. If you stay in Scotland, they’ll find you. You can never come back.” The idea of never seeing him again plunged an icicle through her chest.

  She turned from him, intent on heading to the bathroom. She couldn’t look at him now, not knowing whether this was going to be over before it started. At best, he’d leave Scotland and never return. At worst, he’d be thrown back in prison. Or get killed.

  “Wait.” His hand closed around her arm and he spun her around. “It’s no’—”

  She threw herself into his arms and kissed him, the stress and fear of what she would lose propelling her to take one last grasp at it before it was all over.

  He dropped the sweater, a groan rumbling out of his chest as he kissed her back. His mouth was hot and hard on hers, his hands everywhere.