She leaned her head against Damon’s palm, savoring the balm of his words. Closing her eyes for a moment, she drew upon his strength.
Yet she felt within Damon a tension, a disturbance she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She glanced up, seeing a haunted look shadowing his face, before he realized she was watching.
Quickly, he composed his face in a smile meant, she was sure, to encourage her not to worry.
Lily smiled back, knowing there was too much they hadn’t said. “We’d better get back to looking.”
Damon nodded, his eyes shifting to the photos he held in his hands. He hadn’t had a chance to look through them all yet.
“I’ll get started. You go ahead and look through those.” She wanted to pore over each one with him, to tell him stories, but her heart hurt too much right now. Maybe later.
He stood there, clasping the pictures of the son he’d never seen as though he held precious jewels in his hands, jewels beyond price and very fragile.
Though they were all she had, Lily spoke before she could change her mind. She had memories; Damon had nothing. “You can keep those, Damon. You don’t have to hurry.”
She felt oddly humbled at the naked gratitude on that strong man’s face.
“Thanks,” his husky whisper floated to her. He placed them carefully in the envelope and returned to his seat, but she noticed that he set the envelope right beneath his hand, as though reluctant to let it out of his sight.
An odd warmth spread through Lily. She turned back to the pages she’d been reading.
“You need to catch some shut-eye, Chang,” Damon advised.
“But I thought I’d go back out—”
Damon shook his head. “We’ve got to be on our toes, all of us. Go get some rest.”
“What about you?”
Lily saw the ferocity gleaming from those blue eyes. His jaw flexed. “Later.”
Chang must have seen the same thing. He nodded and waved, turning to head out the door. “I’ll ask Callie to wake me up in a few hours. Good night.”
The room resumed its quiet hush.
A little while later, Lily felt her eyes burning. Rubbing them to re-focus her vision, she flexed her back and rolled her neck, turning the next sheet. A small square slipped out and slid across the floor, landing at her feet.
When she leaned down and turned it over, her gasp drew Damon’s attention.
“What is it, Lily?”
Shaking her head, she studied a perfect likeness of the image she’d seen while meditating. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “This—it’s so strange, Damon. I saw this, I’d swear I did, while we meditated. But I’ve never seen this drawing before.”
She raised her head to look at Damon, walking over to her. She caught the quick flash of shock on his face when his gaze settled on the drawing.
“What?”
“I saw it, too.”
“You what?” Her eyes darted back and forth between his, searching to understand. “When we meditated?”
Damon’s index finger traced the lines of the drawing. “‘I Ho Chuan. The Dragon’s Pearl’,” he read. Shaking his head, he continued to stare. “That’s the Pearl of Paradise, between the dragon’s paws.” Frowning, he muttered, “I felt you—”
He drew it out of her hands gently, seemingly mesmerized by what was on the page.
“You felt what?”
Damon tore his gaze from the drawing, blue eyes fixed upon hers for long moments. He closed them briefly as though remembering, then opened them again, looking off into the distance.
“I never saw it quite like this—just a quick flash. Most of the time,” his crystal blue gaze returned to hers, “I felt as though I were the jade dragon.”
Lily held her breath, her own mind full of the sensations she’d had, of lying safe between the paws of a dragon—
Who’d felt like the essence of Damon, somehow.
Barely daring to speak, she whispered softly. “I felt myself lying between the paws of a jade dragon.”
Damon frowned, his focus sharpening upon her.
“The dragon felt like you, Damon.”
He stilled as though turned to stone. “Little Pearl.” He started to pace. “‘Until the Dragon and his Pearl are one again.’”
“Fan Lee said that to both of us.”
Damon turned an anguished gaze upon her. “There is no jade dragon, only the Pearl of Paradise.” He set off pacing again, staring at the drawing. “Wait a minute—” He strode over to the table where he’d been working. He shuffled through a stack, flipping pages carefully.
“There was something—” Grabbing a new stack, he turned the pages over, one by one, finger scanning, his face intent.
“Here—look at this, Lily. It speaks of a schism within the I Ho Chuan—”
“The Fist of Righteous Harmony. Wasn’t that a sect of the White Lotus?”
He turned to stare at her. “What do you know about them?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Fan Lee told me about them once—they were a secret organization aimed at overthrowing the Manchus after the Manchus invaded China and destroyed most of the Shaolin temples, as I recall.”
“So what does that have to do with the Pearl?”
“And is the Pearl you guard part of the Dragon’s Pearl?” Her mind was racing. “Why didn’t we ever hear of it before, Damon?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but maybe this is the break we’ve been looking for.”
Lily moved to her own table. “I’ll search the history books first, to see if there’s any mention.” Heart pumping wildly, she moved to a bookshelf on the adjacent wall.
The next hours were spent with only the sound of pages turning. Callie brought them sandwiches and drinks, but though Lily ate, she didn’t recall tasting anything.
She also didn’t recall sleeping. The last thing she remembered was looking over to see Damon’s dark head bent over yellowed pages while he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Until he stood by her side. “Lily, wake up. I think I’ve found something.”
She inhaled sharply, sitting up quickly and arching her back to work out kinks. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Look, Lily. Check me out and see if this says what I think it does.” He squatted down beside her, one arm along the back of her chair.
She struggled to focus her tired eyes, but the feel of him so close, the male scent of him warmed her. She sat up straighter and concentrated on the page before her.
“It’s talking about the Dragon-King of the Eastern Sea Who Increases Virtue.” She leaned closer. “His name was Ao Kuang, and to honor the love that he bore his concubine—” She turned to look at Damon, who was grinning. The beauty of his rare smile staggered her.
“—whom he called the Pearl of Paradise—” Damon continued.
Lily smiled back, content to soak in his radiant white smile, standing out in that lean, dark face. Those sky-blue eyes glowed, and she reached out to touch his face.
Damon leaned slightly into her touch and stumbled over the next words. Lily turned back and read along.
“In the tenth century, he charged a Shaolin priest to create a jade and ivory statue called—” She looked at Damon, delighted.
“—the Dragon’s Pearl,” they said in unison.
Lily’s breathing quickened; she could feel Damon’s excitement and bent to read more. “‘Through the statue, Ao Kuang decreed, the strength of their union would live throughout time. In the hands of a virtuous man, the Dragon’s Pearl would strengthen his virtue and make him a powerful force for good, provided it remains on sacred ground.’”
Her stomach plummeted. “Oh, Damon, what could have happened to the Dragon?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s a little more.”
Lily turned back. “‘In the hands of an evil man, its power will allow darkness to reign, until the Dragon and his Pearl are one again.’” A shiver ran down her spine. “Whe
re’s the Dragon now? How was it separated from the Pearl?”
“How did Fan Lee wind up with the Pearl?” Damon shook his head. “I wish I knew. I keep trying to figure out if there’s something he told me that I’ve just forgotten.”
“Is Chang here? I wonder if this would jog his memory. Maybe Fan Lee said something about the Pearl he’s just forgotten.”
Damon shook his head. “He came in while you were sleeping to tell me he was headed back out.” A shadow passed over Damon’s face.
“What? What is it?”
He resumed his impassive mask. “Nothing. I’m going to look in Fan Lee’s old room to see if I can find anything else we might have overlooked.” He squeezed her shoulder as he passed. “I’ll be back.”
“Why don’t you get some rest first?”
He turned briefly. “Not yet.”
“But, Damon—”
“Not yet, Lily.” He left the room.
Lily turned back to her next book.
When Damon returned, Lily was so deep in study, she barely heard him enter. “Damon, listen to this.” She jumped up with the book, casting a glance in his direction, startled to see drops of water glistening in his hair. He’d changed his shirt, too, for a pale blue sweater that made his eyes look even more mystical than usual.
He smiled sheepishly. “I took a shower to wake up. You should try it—feels great.”
“In a minute,” she answered, distractedly. “This book says that after two hundred years of the Manchu reign, the White Lotus Society’s hatred of the Manchus had reached a fever pitch. It talks about a sacred relic which had two parts and says that the two parts were separated to keep the power of the relic out of the hands of the Manchus—” She looked up, seeing Damon’s gaze riveted on hers.
“It says that the statue would be reunited when the hated Manchus were gone.” Blood pumped madly through her veins. “It’s got to be the Dragon’s Pearl, don’t you think?”
Damon strode to a chest across the room, the wood ornate and heavily carved. Lily had never seen its contents. “I think Fan Lee told me there’s some sort of history of his brotherhood in here.”
“What’s that in your hand?” She nodded at the slender volume.
“I think it’s a journal that Fan Lee kept. I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I’ll look through it, if you want, while you search the box.” She walked over to stand beside him. Taking it from his hand, she turned back toward her table.
Damon reached out and snagged her arm, turning her toward him. “Lily—”
She raised her eyes to his, the husky tone in his voice making her breathless.
“We’re connected to this somehow—I feel it.”
Lily nodded. She felt it, too.
“We’re going to figure this out. There’s too much brainpower behind that beautiful face of yours for us not to find the answer.”
Lily felt her cheeks warm. There was also too much courage within the man before her. Too much heart to give up. Feeling a new spurt of energy, she stood straighter. “I believe we will, Damon. I’ve always believed in you.”
Pain tightened his features. “I don’t deserve your faith, Little Pearl.”
She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Someday we have a lot to talk through, but I think that you pulled a scam on me, Damon Alexander. You are the man I knew and loved. If I hadn’t been so young and unsure of myself, I would have never let you fool me into thinking otherwise.”
“And you’d have been the first one to die when Kwan decided it was time to draw me away.”
She stood stock-still. “Why would he want to draw you away, Damon?”
“Because he hates me—he always has.”
“Or because he wants the Pearl—”
Damon’s eyes met hers. “Because he has the Dragon.”
Lily held her breath. “Could it be? Could that be it?”
“If he doesn’t, ten to one says he knows who does.” His jaw flexed. “Killing me would just be icing on the cake.”
Chapter Eight
“Lily, you’re out on your feet. Go lie down on the sofa and take a nap.”
She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the page of Fan Lee’s journal kept blurring. She shook her head, slapping her cheek to keep herself awake.
Then Damon’s hands were on her arms, sliding across and slipping underneath to lift her from her chair. He pulled her up, and her breasts came into contact with his hard chest. Lily’s hands slid around to his back, and she looked up at his face.
Tenderness and desire glowed from his turquoise eyes. How could she ever have thought them the eyes of a killer? They could be cold blades of blue steel, she knew that. But right now, the way he looked at her—she felt the power of him down to her toes.
“You need some rest, Little Pearl,” he soothed, one big hand gliding over her hair and coming to rest, cradling her head.
“So do you.”
His eyes glowed blue fire. “Rest is the last thing on my mind right now.”
Mesmerized by the dark beauty of him, Lily closed her eyes, her lips parting in invitation as his head moved closer.
“I need you, Lily.” His voice husky, his breath fanned her lips, stirring the tender skin. “I tried not to… I tried to forget you… but you’re part of me.” His warm lips touched hers, softly… barely brushing against her own.
“We need to be together, Damon,” she breathed. “I’ve missed you so much… please don’t send me away again.”
“Never.” Knowing he’d likely be the one to leave this time, pain shot through him. His mouth closed upon hers, his tongue sweeping across the tender line between her lips, burning a trail of fire to the corner of her mouth, where he tickled her lips to open, to let him into her warmth.
Lily sighed and clutched handfuls of sweater between her fingers.
Damon tried not to grip her so tightly, but he needed her—God, he needed her so. The long years of separation had shriveled his heart to nothing, but now that dried-up heart stirred, swelling with new life.
Returning to life hurt like hell—but it was sweet torture. Damon drank of Lily’s sweetness… absorbed her belief in him like a starving man. He was not the man she believed—his soul was blackened by the things he’d done, scarred by memories he could never erase.
But, ah, her faith warmed him… caused hope to stir. Maybe there’d be a future—
Don’t be a damn fool, Damon. It’s more than likely that you’ll be dead, this time tomorrow.
But he would see that Lily and their child lived. He would take Kwan with him into hell, no matter what he had to do.
Then Lily whimpered, and her mouth opened to him… her tongue joined him in love play, making him almost forget what lay ahead.
“Make me forget, Lily,” he murmured.
She pulled her mouth away for just one second. “I love you, Damon. Never forget that—never,” she gritted, sliding her fingers into his hair and gripping tightly. Then she raised herself on tip-toe and rocked her pelvis against him, seizing his mouth with desperation.
Stunned as if poleaxed, Damon had one last thought. If Lily could love him, after all he’d made her suffer—Please let her remember the good times when he was gone. Please let her forget the way I hurt her.
Then Damon thought no more. Instead, he burned.
Lily saw the sorrow in his eyes, just before he scooped her up in his arms. Cold fear seized her heart in its icy grip. She knew to her marrow that he did not believe he would survive the coming confrontation.
“Damn you, Damon. You’re not leaving me.”
Damon didn’t answer as he laid her on the sofa and followed her down. In the faint glow from the lamps on the tables, she saw the shadows claim his face.
“Damon—”
“Sh-h-h-h, sweetheart. Feel… just feel. Feel how much I love you.” His mouth moved down her throat, his teeth sliding along the tendons of her neck.
Lily shivered, her nipples rising i
nto his palms. I’m not letting him face Kwan alone. I have to find an answer—some way to keep both my son and his father alive.
Then Damon’s hands and lips began to move, and Lily gave herself up to the ecstasy she’d thought lost forever to her.
Damon shoved her sweater up her body, his hands itching to touch the sweet silk of her skin. He ran them up over her ribcage, sliding up to the clasp of her bra. Catching a brief glimpse of delicate blue lace, Damon fumbled in his haste to touch the pale beauty of her breasts.
Then there was nothing between his palms and her flesh. Lily sighed, swiveling her body to rub herself against him.
Damon’s fingers closed, his palms filling with the precious flesh, her nipples firm and enticing against him. “Sweet… ah, so sweet you are, Lily.” He knelt upon the sofa, one knee between her thighs, one foot bracing on the wooden floor. Leaning forward, he blew whispery breaths against her left breast, watching the nipple pucker, the curves becoming more plump, as though begging for his mouth.
Damon wondered if Lily had nursed his child at this breast—or if she’d had to give him up before she’d had the chance. His heart squeezing yet again at what he’d cost her, he lowered his head, bent upon cherishing her.
Lily gasped when his tongue laved the peak, swirling a circle, then suckling gently. Her hands gripped tightly in his hair when his mouth closed over her breast, drawing the tender skin between his tongue and his teeth, drinking in the essence of woman, her own unique smell and taste.
His woman.
Desire shot straight to Damon’s groin, and he shifted against the pressure behind his zipper. His leg moved against her thigh, and Damon wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her—right now, this instant.
Lily felt Damon’s knee lean against the part of her that ached to feel him. She shifted restlessly, rocking her pelvis to bring his warm flesh against her, straddling his leg, burning for his touch.
Arrows of need seemed to rise from low in her belly to the breast Damon suckled, and Lily clasped her hand deeper into his thick, dark hair. She’d only been allowed to nurse Gregory for a few days, but she still remembered the pull deep inside her when he suckled at her breast. But this—this was much more. Damon was no child. He was powerfully, potently male, and she burned to have him deep inside her.
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