He placed a tray with the candle on the floor then reached for me.
“No! Don’t touch me!” I shrunk away from him then muttered under my breath, “I’m so freaking sick and tired of your kind knocking me unconscious over and over again. You have no idea how annoying it gets after a while.”
Gripping the covers and using the bed frame to haul my non-cooperating body up, I attempted to climb back onto the bed again.
“I’m wearing gloves.” He spread his fingers to demonstrate. “I can’t take anything from you through them.”
“Yeah, well, you already took. Didn’t you?” I struggled to climb up.
“You touched me,” he remarked calmly, taking away my argument.
“Fine.” I gave up, sliding back to the floor with a frustrated huff. “Could you help me, please?” I reasoned that if he wanted to harm me more, he would’ve done it by now—in my current position, I could offer zero resistance anyway.
Taking a step closer, he lifted me in his arms promptly and put me on the bed—all in one movement, as if I weighted nothing at all.
“Thanks.” I crawled back under the quilt, panting from the effort. “When am I going to be myself again?”
Will it ever be possible? To be myself in every way again?
He put the tray with the candle in my lap.
“Eat.”
Only now I noticed a Styrofoam cup with soup next to a bottle of water on the tray, and my stomach clenched in hungry anticipation.
“Oh, God. Thank you,” I exhaled, quickly grabbing the plastic spoon from the tray and diving in the soup. It was lukewarm, with a faint synthetic aftertaste. Still, it felt wonderful, filling my empty belly.
“Sorry, I’m not sure of its taste. I got it from the gas station in the nearest town, about a two-hour drive from here.” He remained standing by the bed, watching me eat.
Normally, this attention would be rather unsettling, but right now I was focused on the food in front of me, too grateful to have something to eat.
“There is no power and no food in the house to cook,” he observed evenly.
“You can cook?” I asked in surprise between the mouthfuls.
“Yes.”
“What’s your name?” I licked the spoon after finishing the last drop of soup and leaned back against the headboard. Having a full stomach seemed to have eased my headache but made me exceptionally sleepy.
“Ivarr.” He took the bottle from the tray, opened it, and handed it to me.
The name had a Norwegian sound to it and combined with his appearance—large, muscular body and blond, wavy hair—brought Vikings to mind.
“You’re a demon, too, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied simply, taking the bottle from me. “Don’t fight the sleep. You need to rest.”
I gulped half of the water and now struggled to stay awake, despite the needles of apprehension inside me. Now more than ever I needed to be fully alert, yet it seemed to be taking most of my energy just to keep my eyes open.
“What will you be doing while I sleep?” I couldn’t fight the fear and suspicion that made it into my voice.
“Me?” He rubbed his forehead, as if an answer to my question required some deep concentration from him. “I’ll wait until you wake up strong enough to leave. Then I’ll go back to sleep myself . . .”
“That’s it? You’ll let me go, just like that?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t take me to the base or call your demon buddies to fetch me?”
“No.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I don’t know . . . Maybe because you don’t have a choice?”
The demon was right. In my current position, I was as helpless as a fly. He didn’t even need to lie. Had he announced that he was about to take me back where I came from, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
“I—I didn’t mean to take your life force,” he offered slowly, as if searching for every word. “I have no control over what happens when I’m in Deep Sleep . . . What I’m trying to say is that I am sorry for your condition and I feel responsible for your safety until you’re better.”
That came as a complete surprise, depriving me of the ability to respond for a moment. I had every reason to distrust a demon. Yet the sincerity in his tone reminded me of Garrett. Could demons be like people in that there were some of them capable of some decency, caring and responsibility?
With awareness gradually seeping out of me, I knew it’d be impossible for me to take care of myself any time soon. I could only hope that Ivarr was a demon of his word and I could count on him to keep me safe.
“Two of you,” I hurried to warn him while I still could, “drugged me and kidnapped me from the base. They were transporting me in a car along the road not far from here. I managed to get away, but they will be looking for me.” My heavy eyelids dropped, and there was no power in the world that would help me lift them again. “They may be here soon . . . Don’t let them take me. And, please, don’t take me back to the base,” I mumbled, sagging to the side like a rag doll, all control over my body gone.
Demon or not, I was entirely at his mercy now.
“I’ll keep you safe.” Was the last I heard before exhaustion, heavy as death itself, pulled me into the darkness.
Chapter 10
IVARR
He lifted a strand of brown hair that had fallen across her face the moment she’d sunk into the pillows. The silky lock, the same colour as the freckles on her skin, slid easily between his gloved fingers. He twisted the ends, admiring the copper highlights brought out by the lights of the candle on the tray.
I’ll keep you safe, he’d promised. By whatever miracle, she’d survived waking him, and he felt the responsibility to nurse her back to health after she had the misfortune to touch him.
Now, he tried to focus all his mental power on how to accomplish it.
He saw her fear when she spoke of the Incubi Base. Personally, his own visits to that place were infrequent, as far as he could remember. They were short, too, lasting a few weeks each—the time between his arrest and sentencing.
Last time, the main condition of his being allowed to stay in this world and to avoid Inferno was that he remained in Deep Sleep. Being awake now violated this condition. If he went back to sleep as soon as possible, the Council would never need to know he’d woken up at all.
Except that the two Incubi—must be one of the Council’s Source Retrieval Teams—were out there, searching for her.
In all the time of his existence that he could remember, he never heard of a Source running away from the Base. Something like admiration rose in his chest as he eyed the small figure curled under the quilt.
The petal of life inside her pulsated with growing force as she slowly regained her strength.
If they caught her, chances were she’d be dead within a year, all life in her extinguished.
He could possibly give her a chance. The strength of his body combined with the full mental power of her brain—together, they might be able to outrun the demons, get her somewhere safe.
Luckily, he was good at running. All he needed was some better nourishment, though, to remember exactly how to do it right.
The mental effort it cost him to build the simplest chain of logic felt exhausting. Unfortunately, she was filled to the brim with worry and fear—emotions more harmful than helpful to him. The power of her life force was wearing off quickly in him, and her enjoyment from the poor-quality meal he’d skimmed wouldn’t last long, either.
With his car apparently gone, he’d have to take Sytrius’s truck and drive south. South, because the Base was located north from here, and he needed to get away from the Base to keep her safe.
Safe.
He walked to the kitchen and took out a metal box he kept under the floorboards there. The box housed the paper currency of several countries and a few passports in different names but with the same photograph—his.
Money
and documents. This was his standard get-away kit for when he was on the run from the Council, which was most of the time when he happened to be awake.
Not this time, though. Just the idea of running again filled him with exhaustion. No one waited for him out there. The distant sorrow of some long-forgotten loss echoed through his chest. A shadow of grief from his past threatened to break through the fog into his awareness, but the thought of the Source sleeping in his bed chased it away.
Run.
Before Raim’s Soldiers made it here.
From the bottom of the metal box, he took out a heart-shaped pendant on a cord of red silk. Gold swirls of light came to life inside the pendant as soon as he lifted it up. A sudden image of its amber glow against the delicate skin of the Source, when she’d wear it, rose in his foggy mind.
In a few hours, she would wake up. Then she would either tell him what to do next or feed him, so he could figure it out for them.
And once she was safe, he would go back into Deep Sleep again, because for him there was no escaping the pain, and in Deep Sleep at least there was less awareness of it.
Chapter 11
THE HEADACHE WAS ALMOST gone. The pain in my neck woke me up this time. I realized it was because of the uncomfortable position I’d fallen asleep in.
Massaging the soreness out of my neck muscles, I groaned and stretched then surveyed my surroundings, blinking in the bright daylight.
I was inside a truck, parked on the side of an unpaved road with deep forest on both sides. Wrapped in a quilt, I had been strapped into the passenger seat by someone.
Ivarr reclined in the driver’s seat. Eyes closed, he appeared to have dozed off. I moved my gaze away quickly, not giving myself a chance to admire his long eyelashes, his angelic hair, or the way his t-shirt stretched thin across his wide chest, lest I do something stupid like touch him again.
Should I wait until he woke up to demand answers, or run again? For all I knew we might be on our way back to the Base, despite his promise.
My attention was drawn to the water bottle in the cup holder in front of me, making me realize how incredibly thirsty I was. I grabbed the bottle and drank as much as I could in hungry gulps.
Next, of course, I needed to use the bathroom. Clicking the seat belt off, I slowly crawled from under the quilt and climbed out the passenger’s door.
To my overwhelming relief, my legs held despite my head swimming with dizziness. One hand on the vehicle, I slowly walked to the back tire. Afraid I’d collapse to the ground the moment I let go of the truck, I quickly abandoned the idea of going to the bushes and did my business right there.
Both hands on the cool metal, I fought another bout of dizziness, wondering what to do next.
Obviously, I was still in no condition to run anywhere yet. I also had no idea how long I’d spent unconscious or where I had been transported.
Were we still in Yukon? British Columbia or Alberta? Or Canada at all? They had taken me across the border once before. It was entirely possible that Ivarr had driven me back into The States by now. The surrounding area, however, didn’t seem to be much different than the woods near his house.
Well, at least I was still alive, awake, and feeling much better than the last time I woke up. More importantly, there didn’t seem to be any other demons around here besides Ivarr.
I had to find out where he was taking me, though.
Keeping my hands on the truck, I slowly made my way back to the passenger’s door then crawled into the seat.
Ivarr remained motionless, his head tilted to the side, and my gaze travelled to his face before I could stop it.
He had tied his hair back, but a golden strand fell across his forehead. I balled my hands into fists and sat on them to stop myself from reaching out to move it away for him.
No touching.
Besides, he might need a rest, too. I remembered Garrett mentioning that he didn’t sleep. Ivarr obviously did. Maybe demons were more different than I thought?
Waiting for him to wake up, I let my gaze linger, studying his features. Straight nose. Strong jawline. Sensual mouth that just begged to be kissed . . .
What?
I blinked the sudden thought away, forcing myself to concentrate on other, more practical and less dangerous ideas.
Like where was the nearest police station?
A deep growl rumbled in Ivarr’s chest suddenly, startling me. His peaceful expression crumbled, as his body tensed, back arching. Teeth bared, he groaned as if in pain.
“Ivarr?” I leaned towards him carefully.
He didn’t seem to hear me. Hands squeezed into tight fists, he doubled over in his seat, and his forehead hit the steering wheel, the horn blowing.
“Oh, God. Ivarr!” I yelled over the deafening sound. “What’s wrong?” Faced with his obvious agony, I forgot all about the potential danger of touching him and grabbed his shoulder. “Can I do something? Anything?”
Fear and worry for him filled me as I shook him gently, trying to get his attention.
Panting, he rolled his forehead on the steering wheel to face me. A series of blue-white lights flickered through his eyes as he stared at me, unblinking. Then his chest rose with a deep inhale and his breathing seemed to slow down.
“What’s going on?” I asked, cupping his face to lift his head from the horn button and stop the blaring noise.
Concern won over fear inside me at the sight of his torture, and I didn’t even pause to think about touching him this time.
I held his head in my hands, watching mesmerized as the dark clouds of pain cleared from the brilliant blue of his eyes. “Are you okay?” I whispered. Without the noise of the horn, the silence was deafening.
He closed his eyes and lifted his hand to mine, pressing it firmer to his face. The gesture was almost the same as the first time I touched him. Yet his hold was gentle this time, and there was no cooling sensation in my palm, just the feeling of his warm skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and inhaled deeply again.
“What do you mean?” I brushed my thumb along his high cheekbone.
He unexpectedly brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. Startled, I didn’t move away, and he trailed the kisses to the inside of my wrist. His caresses rippled through me in a light wave of pleasure.
“Ivarr?” I whispered a little breathy, leaning closer. “What are you doing?”
“I’m hungry,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of my inner arm, sending a flock of warm tingles through my chest. “Will you feed me, sweetheart?”
“Feed you?”
A hair-thin thread of warning filtered in my brain through the syrupy warmth brought on by the touch of his lips.
“Mmhmm.” His fingers circled my wrist, raising the inside of my elbow to his lips. “So . . . good.”
The lights flashing through his hooded eyes had a pink hue now, reminding me of the crimson glow of the thirteen who had watched me on the cross in the white room.
“No.” I shrunk back, and to my relief, he let go of my arm immediately, dropping his hands into his lap.
I shook my head, trying to clear the spell his kisses seemed to have put me under.
“What were you doing to me? You weren’t just taking my emotions. Your eyes . . . the light wasn’t blue this time.” I’d never seen Garrett’s eyes light red, only those of the members of The Council, while I was on the cross.
“You got aroused.” He inclined his head. “The sexual energy reflects red in our eyes.”
“No, I didn’t!” I squirmed in my seat, mortified and angry at the same time—embarrassed over my reaction to him and mad at him for causing it.
“Yes, you did.” His tone was certain. “A little.”
He didn’t seem to be mocking or teasing, just stating the truth.
“How do you know?”
“I saw it.” He shrugged. “I see all emotions inside you, in light and colour. The pink blush—not unlike the one on your cheeks right no
w—is the shade of rising desire.”
Renewed fear pushed aside my initial embarrassment.
“I’ve only seen red in the eyes of Council members, Ivarr.” I moved as far away from him as the space in the truck would allow. “Are you with them?”
“I’ve never served on the Council or worked for them. In fact, I prefer to keep as much distance as possible between me and them.”
“Sleeping in the same country as their base doesn’t seem to be that far away,” I pointed out.
“This wasn’t me taking a nap. I was put in Deep Sleep as a punishment.”
“For what?”
“For not following the rules of the Council.”
“Why weren’t you? Aren’t all of you their Soldiers?”
“We are. Except that not all of us have enough self-control to stay away from humans and their emotions as the Council demands. At least, I don’t.”
“What do you mean?” The rules were outright criminal, as far as I knew. However, since I had some knowledge about how they were executed at the Base, I more or less understood what to expect. Here, one on one with a demon gone rogue—who knew what could happen.
He turned more my way, appearing eager to explain.
“Their feedings are forced.” His voice filled with emotion, and his expressions became more animated. “The way it’s done is . . . unnatural. It hurts both humans and us and solves nothing. I refused to go hungry as the treaty demands and instead fed my way—pleasurable for me and the woman whose emotions I shared, which was against the rules.” He leaned back in his seat. “And that made me a deserter.”
His brilliant blue eyes closed for a moment, as if he needed to focus on something inside him without any visual distractions.
“This here.” He pressed his fist to his chest. “This calmness and peace . . . feels right. Sexual energy was meant to be our nourishment, but I don’t agree with taking it by force. The only way they could stop me from running away and feeding on my own was to make me fall into Deep Sleep.”
“How could they force you to sleep?”
“By starving me until all energy was gone.”
The Forgotten (Demons Book 2) Page 5
