Forever in Darkness (novella) (Order of the Blade #4)
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Forever
In
Darkness
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An Order of the Blade Novella
Stephanie Rowe
“Rowe is a paranormal star!” ~J.R. Ward
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Praise for Forever in Darkness
“Stephanie Rowe has done it again. The Order Of The Blade series is one of the best urban fantasy/paranormal series I have read. Ian’s story held me riveted from page one. It is sure to delight all her fans. Keep them coming!” ~ Alexx Mom Cat’s Gateway Book Blog
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Praise for Darkness Awakened
“A fast-paced plot with strong characters, blazing sexual tension and sprinkled with witty banter, Darkness Awakened sucked me in and kept me hooked until the very last page.” ~ Literary Escapism
“Rarely do I find a book that so captivates my attention, that makes me laugh out loud, and cry when things look bad. And the sex, wow! It took my breath away… The pace kept me on the edge of my seat, and turning the pages. I did not want to put this book down… [Darkness Awakened] is a must read.” ~ D. Alexx Miller, Alexx Mom Cat’s Gateway Book Blog
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Praise for Darkness Seduced
“[D]ark, edgy, sexy … sizzles on the page…sex with soul shattering connections that leave the reader a little breathless!…Darkness Seduced delivers tight plot lines, well written, witty and lyrical - Rowe lays down some seriously dark and sexy tracks. There is no doubt that this series will have a cult following. ” ~ Guilty Indulgence Book Club
“I was absolutely enthralled by this book…heart stopping action fueled by dangerous passions and hunky, primal men…If you’re looking for a book that will grab hold of you and not let go until it has been totally devoured, look no further than Darkness Seduced.”~When Pen Met Paper Reviews
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Praise for Darkness Surrendered
“Book three of the Order of the Blades series is…superbly original and excellent, yet the passion, struggle and the depth of emotion that Ana and Elijah face is so brutal, yet is also pretty awe inspiring. I was swept away by Stephanie’s depth of character detail and emotion. I absolutely loved the roller-coaster that Stephanie, Ana and Elijah took me on.” ~ Becky Johnson, Bex ‘n’ Books!
“Darkness Surrendered drew me so deeply into the story that I felt Ana and Elijah’s emotions as if they were my own…they completely engulfed me in their story…Ingenious plot turns and edge of your seat suspense…make Darkness Surrendered one of the best novels I have read in years.” ~Tamara Hoffa, Sizzling Hot Book Reviews
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Praise for Dawn at Birch Crossing
“Dawn at Birch Crossing is m-a-g-i-c-a-l! Hands down, it is one of the best romances I have read. I can’t wait till it comes out and I can tell the world about it.” ~Sharon Stogner, Love Romance Passion
“Dawn at Birch Crossing is contemporary romance at its best….There was not a moment that I wasn’t completely engrossed in the novel, the story, the characters. I very audibly cheered for them and did not shed just one tear, nope, rather bucket fulls. My heart at times broke for them. The narrative and dialogue surrounding these ‘tender’ moments in particular were so beautifully crafted, poetic even; it was this that had me blubbering. And of course on the flip side of the heart-wrenching events, was the amazing, witty humour….If it’s not obvious by now, then just to be clear, I love this book! I would most definitely and happily reread, which is an absolute first for me in this genre.”Becky Johnson, Bex ‘N’ Books
“Dawn at Birch Crossing is an amazing story of love and life…I literally laughed out loud, cried and cheered…. Dawn at Birch Crossing is a must read and must re-read.”Jeanne Stone-Hunter, My Book Addiction Reviews
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Forever in Darkness
ISBN-10: 985179279
ISBN-13: 978-0-98517927-4
Copyright © 2012 by Stephanie Rowe.
Cover design © 2012 by Peter Davis. Cover design and layout by Peter Davis at www.loszombios.com. Cover photos courtesy of iStockphoto.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews.
Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist.
For further information, please contact Stephanie@stephanierowe.com
Dedication
This novella simply MUST be dedicated to my brother, because it was his brilliant idea to write it. Without his support and innovative ideas, this story simply would not exist. So, thank you, from the very depths of my heart. You are the BEST!
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to my core team of amazing people, without whom I would never have been able to create this book. Each of you is so important, and your contribution was exactly what I needed. I’m so grateful to all of you! Your emails of support, or yelling at me because I hadn’t sent you more of the book yet, or just your advice on covers, back cover copy and all things needed to whip this book into shape—every last one of them made a difference to me. I appreciate each one of you so much! I want to give a huge shout out to all my beta readers, who turned this novella around super-fast so I could get it out to my readers. You guys are the BEST! Special thanks to, Jeanne Hunter, Sharon Stogner, Jan Leyh, Summer Steelman, Teresa Gabelman, D. Alexx Miller, Holly Collins, Janet Juengling-Snell, and Jenn Shanks Pray. There are so many people I want to thank, but the people who simply must be called out are Denise Fluhr, Alencia Bates, Rebecca Johnson, Karen Roma, Nicole Telhiard, Denise Whelan, Tamara Hoffa, and Ashley Cuesta. Thank you also to the following for all their amazing help: Judi Pflughoeft, Deb Julienne, Julie Simpson, Mary Lynn Ostrum, Shell Bryce, Mariann Medina, Jodi Moore, Christine Mabry, and Amanda Tamayo. You guys are the best! Thanks so much to Pete Davis for such an amazing cover, and for all his hard work on the technical side to make this book come to life. Mom, you’re the best. It means so much that you believe in me. I love you. Special thanks also to my amazing daughter, who I love more than words could ever express. You are my world, sweet girl, in all ways.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Sneak Peek: Darkness Reborn
Sneak Peek: Darkness Awakened
Sneak Peek: Dawn at Birch Crossing
Sneak Peek: Kiss at your Own Risk
Stephanie Rowe Bio
Select List of Other Books
CHAPTER ONE
Ian Fitzgerald hurled the rusted shovel aside, an aching emptiness tearing through his soul, trying to suck him down into a chasm of despair and hell. The tool thunked mercilessly against the unmarked tombstone resting in the dirt, waiting for its turn to be placed in the ground.
On either side of him stretched rows of gravestones, the granite crosses that marked the ignominious, cursed deaths of every male in his line.
Every Fitzgerald male except him.
Ian grabbed the tombstone he’d brought with him, his muscles straining as he swung it over to the fresh mound of dirt and plunged it deep into the earth. The cross held out its arms, mocking him, taunting him, promising him that he would be next, that he would join the woman he’d just buried.
He would have no choice as to whether he was going to die with her. It was his fate, just as it had been the fate of every Fitzgerald male since the day his ancestor, Augustus Fitzgerald, had brought doom upon them by killing the soul mate of a Calydon warrior steeped in black magic.
When Augustus had shown no mercy for the wizard’s agony at losing his soul mate, the anguished male had cursed Augustus and his progeny. He wanted to force the iron-willed Augustus to experience the brutality of losing the woman he loved and to see what hell he’d caused others. He doomed Augustus and his progeny not only to fall in love and lose the woman who had captured his heart, but to be so overwhelmed by the loss that the only solution was to kill himself.
Suicide was the ultimate dishonor for a warrior, and every Fitzgerald male had made that choice since the curse had been laid down.
And now, it was Ian’s turn, because he’d found the woman who’d broken through his shields, and he’d lost her.
Twice.
And it fucking sucked.
“No,” Ian growled, his voice raw, his throat aching with the agony of fending off the despair stalking him. Ian raised his face to the dark night and let the damp night air drift across his skin, fighting against the hopelessness trying to take him down at the sight of the fresh mound of earth, at the knowledge of the woman who lay beneath the ground.
He could still feel her in his arms: the trembling of her body as she tried to fight off death, the ache in her soul as life was torn from her. He would never forget that hellacious moment when that bastard had taken her life, and how completely helpless Ian had been to stop it.
She’d already been unconscious when he’d found her, chained to the wall in that hellhole, but she’d still been alive. She hadn’t died until Ian had reached her side and tried to free her.
He’d freed her. Yeah, he’d used his weapons and broken those chains holding her down, but it had been too late. She’d died in his arms, and all he’d been able to do was offer her a burial.
Not life. A damned burial.
Ian was one of the elite Order of the Blade warriors, an immortal Calydon who had spent the last six hundred years taking down rogue Calydons who threatened innocents. He was the sixth Fitzgerald male to become Order, descended from a long line of the most deadly warriors alive. But since the curse had been laid down, Ian was the first that had stayed alive long enough to ascend into the ranks of the Order. Since then, all the others had died before they could develop the skills necessary for admission into the elite.
The Fitzgerald males were the strongest line. The toughest warriors. The most powerful legacy.
And yet none had survived the curse.
Until Ian.
Until now.
But he could tell from the brutal hopelessness invading his soul that the curse had finally found him.
Son of a bitch.
In over six hundred years, no beast or warrior had been able to best Ian or penetrate the iron will he’d erected to bring honor back to his family. For more than six hundred years, he’d kept his head down, never deviating from his mission, never giving the curse the opening to touch him.
And yet, it had. It had brought his woman to him, and made her die in his arms.
Twice.
Ian Fitzgerald, the toughest bastard alive, had been completely unable to do anything to stop her from dying even when she’d been in the protective shield of his body. He’d been right next to her, breathing the same air as her, sharing the same space, actually holding her in his arms, and she’d died anyway.
He’d completely failed her.
Failed.
He threw back his head and roared his grief and guilt into the night. What was he worth if he couldn’t save the woman he was born to protect? First his sheva, the woman destined to be his soul mate for all eternity. Her name had been Catherine Taylor, according to her driver’s license. Ian stumbled across her, had a split second with her in his arms, and then she’d been cleaved from him, cut down by one of his teammates because she was his mate.
Elijah Ross, the warrior who’d killed her, had simply been doing what all the Order members were all trained to do: destroy the sheva before she could bond with the male and turn him rogue. It was the Calydon destiny to find his sheva, bond with her, and then go rogue and destroy everything that either of them cared about, and it was the Order’s mission to protect innocents from those rogue Calydons.
For Calydons who weren’t Order members, it was the male who was destroyed before he could go rogue, and the woman was always preserved and protected. But Order members were too valuable, so it was their women who had to be killed…with great honor and respect, of course, but dead was dead. Killing an Order sheva was the sacrifice of one innocent to save many, which was the choice they had all learned to accept as a necessary element of their mission to protect. For Ian, that truth hadn’t lessened the devastating shock of having his sheva die in his arms.
It was a hellaciously different experience to be on this side of it, and Ian knew he’d never kill another sheva again. Ever.
Pain knifed through Ian’s chest, and he was suddenly back in that moment when Catherine had died in his arms. He and Elijah had been sprinting along the edge of a cliff, in pursuit of the very bastard who had cursed Augustus, when Catherine had appeared out of nowhere, careening down the side of the mountain, tumbling brutally to her death.
Ian had caught her, and for that split second when she’d looked at him, he’d been utterly lost in the green depths of her eyes…so lost that he’d failed to notice the threat that came from his own damn camp.
He’d known instantly that she was his soul mate…and so had Elijah. Shit, he could still hear her gasp of shock and pain, the confusion in her eyes as Elijah’s blade plunged into her heart. Ian’s anguish, his roar of fury as her body had gone limp in his arms. The fragile life had been wiped out because she, as his sheva, was destined for him, and the sheva bond, once completed, would turn him rogue and destroy them both.
An innocent woman dead, because she had the misfortune of being destined for him.
An innocent woman dead, because her own mate had not protected her.
An innocent woman dead, because he blew it.
Ian’s body began to shake again, and the rage screamed through his mind, the agony of the magnitude of his failure. And loss. That monumental loss, emptiness and despair. His chance at life, at connection, at bonding with the woman he was born to be with. All gone. Gone.
And then again? A second time? This second woman had had no identification on her, but she’d looked, smelled and felt exactly like his sheva. It made no sense, because his sheva had been killed eight months ago, but he knew this second woman had been Catherine again. He was certain of it all the way to the depths of his soul. He’d known it from the moment he’d walked into that room and saw her chained to the wall, her auburn hair tangled around her shoulders. His entire being had responded, so intensely, so powerfully, that he’d recognized it immediately as the male responding to the presence of his mate.
He had no damn idea how she’d come back to him after she’d died, but she had. And he’d failed her twice.
Ian bellowed his rage as he accepted the responsibility for her death. For his inability to do right by her. His one job as a male was to protect the woman chosen for him as his mate, and he’d let her die.
The agony hit him hard, dropping him to his knees. He dug his fingers into the fresh dirt marking her grave and howled his anguish, like a beast consumed by instincts too powerful to rationalize.
His forearms burning, Ian looked down at the brands on his arms. One on each forearm, black brands in the shape of the flanged
mace that was his weapon. What good were they? Useless pieces of shit.
His self-loathing surged, and he called out his weapons. There was a flash of black light above his forearms, a loud crack split the night, and then his weapons appeared in his hands. Ian clenched them, and lurched to his feet.
“I am not worthy,” he shouted as he raised the weapons.
It ended now. There was only one thing a man like him deserved.
Death.
His upper lip curved in disgust, he reared back to plunge his weapon into his heart and—
He saw a flash of blue across his palm, and he froze, the word carved there leaping into his mind. He went still as his ancestor’s voice echoed through his mind. Honor.
Honor his legacy.
Honor his ancestors.
Honor his mission.
Honor. The word he had lived by for six hundred years.
Ian suddenly became aware of the magnitude of the darkness trying to take him, and he stumbled backwards, shocked by how deeply the curse had its claws thrust into him. “You don’t get to take me,” he shouted at the night, even as his soul bled onto the grave beneath his feet.
With a roar of fury, Ian hurled his weapons at a nearby tree. They thudded into the trunk, nearly splitting the tree in half. Ian sank to the earth, the damp ground seeping through his jeans, a grim reminder of the grave he was kneeling on. Anguish tore through him, so powerful, so devastating, he screamed from the force of it.
No. He would not succumb. He. Would. Not.
Ian dug his hands into the dirt and dropped his head, his muscles rigid as he fought the urge to retrieve his weapons and use them to destroy himself.
Sweat streamed down his temples, and a vast chasm of despair beat at him, commanding his capitulation. Words thundered relentlessly through his mind, that grating, mesmerizing voice that had haunted his family for generations, the one that had destroyed every male before him. Failure. Unworthy. Loss. Isolation. Loneliness.