Darkness Seduced (Primal Heat Trilogy #2) (Order of the Blade)

by Stephanie Rowe

  The blade was wrenched out of the door and slammed into it again, this time coming through a good eight inches, nearly stabbing her in the chest. She leapt back and threw herself against the wall next to the door. She clutched her spear tightly, holding it at the correct angle to stab a six and a half foot tall warrior in the eye.

  One chance. She’d get one chance to blind him and run. She’d mapped out her escape route precisely, and she knew exactly how long it would take her to get to the kitchen to grab Nate’s car keys, and then make it to the garage.

  She knew the odds of her escaping were miniscule, which is why she’d never tried it before. But now it didn’t matter. She’d rather die trying to escape than let Frank take her. Staying alive was no longer her number one goal. Ever since Frank had fixed his sights on her, she’d known her options had changed. Ana had been her last hope…

  The door shook again, and Lily leaned her head back against the wall, her whole body trembling as she waited for the door to succumb to the assault. She didn’t have to kill the Calydon. She needed him out of commission for only three minutes. She’d run the calculations dozens of times, and she knew three minutes were all she needed for a head start. Three minutes, Lily. You can do this.

  She had to take him by surprise. Attack before he had a chance to consider defending himself. No warrior would ever think that the refined Professor Davenport would go on the offensive. He wouldn’t be ready. Please, God, don’t let him be ready.

  The next blow rattled the wall so badly she had to lift her head off it to keep her teeth from clattering. The door strained at its hinges, and Lily gripped her spear tighter, her heart pounding. This is it, Lily. Your chance.

  There was a brutal crash, and the door exploded out of the frame with violent force. It catapulted across the room and smashed into her cot, decimating it with the furious shriek of metal being ripped to pieces.

  She held her breath and tucked herself further out of sight, waiting for the Calydon to step through the doorway and into range so she could spring at him before he was ready.

  But he didn’t come in.

  He didn’t even take a step.

  Silence.

  Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, and she realized he’d be able to smell her sweat if he took the time to scent her—

  She felt a humming in the air, and she silently cursed, realizing that the Calydon was reaching out with his preternatural senses to find her. He would hear her heart pounding and know exactly where she was. Even holding her breath wouldn’t keep her silent enough, not with him this close.

  She had to act now.

  She tightened her grip on her spear, then lunged forward and jammed it around the doorframe, striking blind. Gauging where his head would be, she aimed upward and to the right, throwing her whole weight into the thrust. It slammed into something and thudded to a stop. Target!

  Elated, she jumped around the doorway, and her heart froze with terror.

  She’d missed.

  Her spear was harmlessly wedged in the shoulder of a dark-haired Calydon warrior, one who she’d seen with Frank. Blood was trickling down his shoulder, and he let out a roar of outrage and grabbed the handle of the spear to yank it out.

  Lily ducked past him and sprinted up the cement stairs, her bare feet slapping on the concrete, her heart thundering in her ears as she vaulted up the steps toward the open door. She jumped through it then whirled around and threw it shut, catching a glimpse of the Calydon as he came after her. She slammed the bolt home then tore down the hallway. There was a shuddering explosion behind her as the Calydon burst through the wooden door. She skidded around a corner as her mind whirred. She’d never make it to the kitchen. She needed to stall him—

  She screamed as a heavy, sweaty body tackled her and her chin smashed on the wood floor. Her head rattled with the impact as he grabbed her and flung her onto her back. He leered at her chest as he pinned her beneath him. Lust flared in his eyes, the raw, uncontrollable sexual greed of a Calydon. She jerked her gaze down and realized he’d torn her shirt when he’d tackled her.

  Terror, raw visceral terror, tore through her, and for a split second, she was too numb to move, too terrified by the memories, by the moment, by what had happened before. Just like this. Again. God, not again.

  He reached for her breast, and the sight of that hand coming toward her jerked her out of her stupor and galvanized her into frantic self-defense, a chance she hadn’t had all those years ago. “No!” she screamed. She slammed her foot into his crotch as hard as she could.

  Her attacker shouted and doubled over, and Lily scrambled out from under him, lurching to her knees—

  He grabbed her ankle and dragged her back toward him, his grip crushing her leg. “I have to bring you back alive and able to perform,” he ground out as he tried to catch his breath from her blow. “But those are all the orders I have.”

  She fought, she kicked, she tried everything, and she was no match for his strength as he yanked her across the floor, back toward him, toward the lust gleaming in his eyes—

  Oh, crap. His eyes. They were glowing red, pulsating with evil, and her heart stuttered.

  He’d gone rogue. He’d crossed the line from sanity into raging, crazed killer, a beast who would feel no pain, have no empathy, ravage mercilessly until there was nothing left. There was no compassion, no humanity left in this warrior. No matter what his orders, she was doomed now. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He would kill her.

  Again. It would all happen again. Just like before—

  “Get off me,” she screamed, scrabbling desperately for a handhold to try to get away from him. Her fingers hit a table leg and a cord. Tears streaking down her cheeks, she yanked on the cord and covered her face as a lamp crashed down on both of them, shattering glass everywhere. Oblivious to the glass, he grabbed her other calf and hauled her until her legs were around his waist, her back slicing across the broken glass as she fought him, desperate, frantic—

  “Get the fuck off her!” An enraged bellow blasted through the hallway.

  Her attacker didn’t even flinch, lunging for her with the furious insanity of a rogue Calydon. She pounded on his shoulders, then heard the whoosh of wind behind her. She looked up as a throwing axe spun past her head and slammed into her assailant’s chest. The fatal blow flung him backward against the wall, a gaping wound opening over his heart.

  She scrambled back, barely noticing the glass sinking into her hands and feet as she struggled to get away from him. He hit the floor with a thud, and the axe yanked itself out of his body and sped back past her head. She heard the slap of it hitting someone’s palm.

  Another Calydon.

  She whirled around, and her breath caught. At the end of the hall stood the largest Calydon she’d ever seen. He had to be close to seven feet, and he was wearing all black, even his heavy boots and the tee shirt that barely covered his broad shoulders.

  Everything about him was dark, except his dusty blond hair hanging raggedly about his angular face and the metal throwing axe in his right hand, stained with blood on one of its blades. His face was wrenched with fury, his blue eyes raging, his stance wide and ready, prepared to take on all threats. He was darkness, he was danger, and he was death.

  His eyes weren’t red, but she could sense he was far more dangerous than the Calydon that lay motionless behind her. He radiated with danger and heat and something she couldn’t identify. Something that eased the terror beating at her. Something that calmed her need to flee. Something that made her want to rush over to him and throw herself in his arms, just to feel his body against hers…

  Oh, crap. What was wrong with her?

  He held up a hand for her silence and cocked his head. She realized he was listening for others. Oh, God. Others?

  She lurched to her feet, staggering as a wave of dizziness caught her and she nearly went down. She braced her hands against the wall, holding herself up as she stumbled away from him, toward the kitc
hen. Glass cut through her feet, and a cry of pain slipped out.

  “Lily!” he commanded. “Don’t move!”

  Lily? He knew who she was? Was he also working with Frank? Had he killed her rogue assailant to ensure she made it back to Frank alive?

  The Calydon was striding toward her, his face dark with fury. Energy was swirling off him, and his well-defined muscles were flexed with rage. He was terrifying, but at the same time…he was pure, elemental beauty. Filled with a fantastical grace that reminded her of a wild cat, loaded with sinewy muscle and a lightning-fast strike that would bring instant death to his enemies. But one that would also curl around her and protect her, keeping her safe, claws safely sheathed just for her.

  He was all male, a testosterone-laden specimen of strength and aggression, a threat to all she was as a woman. He was a ruthless temptation to her deepest, darkest desires, the ones she’d hidden away even from herself. In his presence, everything that made her female flared to life, longing for this man, this warrior, this enemy.

  She backed up as he neared, holding out her hand in a pathetically useless attempt to stop him.

  “My name’s Gideon. I’m here for you.” His voice was forceful and unyielding, but to her surprise, he eased himself to a stop several yards away from her. He spread his hands as if he were trying to appear harmless. There was no chance he could ever be mistaken for anything harmless, and it wasn’t simply because of the weapon in his right hand or the axe-shaped brands burned into his forearms. Danger bled from his pores, darkened his expression, and weighted his broad shoulders. “Don’t run,” he said. “You’ll slice your feet.”

  Her stomach lurched. There was no remorse in his face for the body on the ground behind her, yet at the same time, heated desire brimmed in his eyes as he studied her intensely. He was a Calydon, a warrior of hot passions and cold death, both of them hopelessly intertwined. His overwhelming presence was stirring up heated feelings of longing deep within her, even as her heart froze in fear at all he was, for how her life could fall at his hands in a split second.

  She tugged her torn shirt closed over her chest, knowing it would do nothing to protect her from the raw sensuality pulsing from him, from the painfully intense yearnings rising within her, responding to his call, desperate to fall into the fire he was already kindling between them. She’d met dozens of Calydons in the past. She’d always felt their pulsing sexuality, their intense stares that made desire rush through her, preying on her heritage and how it called her to their kind, but this was different. With all those others, she hadn’t felt anything for them. It had been easy to turn them away, to ignore the beastly desires of her kind.

  But Gideon was different. He was stripping her raw, branding her with his gaze, making her body ache with need for him, for all that he was and could offer her.

  His eyes darkened, and she knew he could sense her attraction, the need pulsing so strongly within her.

  Her cheeks flared with embarrassment, and she began to slide along the wall away from him, using it as a support to keep herself vertical. She winced as her foot landed on something sharp, and she jerked her foot off the floor, brushing off the glass by running her foot over her calf.

  His jaw tightened, and his hand went up as if to grab her, but he stopped himself when she flinched. “Lily. There are more Calydons outside that my teammate is dealing with.” There was an urgency to his voice. “We need to go.” He snapped his fingers impatiently. “Come on. Now.”

  She gritted her teeth against the almost uncontrollable urge to drop her shields, bolt into his arms and give herself over to him. He was death, but he was also temptation. As she stared at the hand he was holding out to her, she felt an unshakeable conviction that he was safety. For the first time in years, she could be safe, if she would just reach out and take what he offered: his violence, his sensuality, his overwhelming desire, his protection.

  But she’d trusted Nate, and she’d wound up his captive for two years. Despite all she knew about Calydons, she’d forgotten all her lessons and walked into Nate’s house, and she’d paid dearly for it. She wasn’t stupid enough to trust a Calydon again.

  Never, ever again.

  Not even the warrior who’d killed to save her. Next time, it could be she who fell victim to Gideon’s weapon. Or next time, it could be Gideon who turned that uncontrollable lust onto her.

  And if he didn’t turn on her next time, he would eventually. Of that, she had no doubt. The warrior standing before her was her salvation, her passion, and also her ultimate destruction.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Gideon Roarke was lost, swept away by the woman he’d come to rescue.

  The world fell away as he stared into Lily’s moss green eyes. The violence of the battle faded, the clash of metal weapons fell silent, the cold chill of the Oregon high desert disappeared.

  Thick lashes framed those sea-colored depths, giving them a sensuality that awakened every cell in his body. But it was the emotions in her eyes that reached inside and seized him by the gut, ripping him out of his role as the warrior and catapulting him into the unfamiliar place of a male consumed by a woman.

  Deep fear was etched in her eyes, ingrained so deeply it had become a part of her. The raw loneliness. The aching despair. The desperate courage striving so hard to be strong, to fight, to survive. Her cheeks were still streaked with tears, her face lined with worry, but there was a passionate beauty to her, a depth of spirit, a fascinating play of femininity and fire to her features.

  Son of a bitch. Gideon’s axe burned in his hand, fierce with the need to kill Nate for a second time, to destroy him for putting that pain on Lily’s face. He wanted to behead the bastard still lying on the ground beside her, punishing him for putting his hands on Lily, for daring to threaten her, for bringing those tears to life.

  Gideon didn’t know Lily. He’d never met her before this moment. He’d never spoken to her. He knew nothing about this woman he’d been sent to rescue from this hellhole. He hadn’t given any thought to her, other than that she was his next mission, and for that reason, she was important.

  But as Gideon stood there, riveted to the floor, feeling the heat of her gaze as she stared at him, everything shifted. No longer was it just another mission, another job to do for the Order of the Blade, the elite group of warriors who were sworn to protect innocents from rogue Calydons. Now, the mission had become real. It had become a woman. It was about an achingly beautiful female with curves, a broken soul, and a battered body.

  Now, it mattered. It had become personal. Lily was no longer simply an assignment. She was his to protect.

  With sudden possession and a fierceness foreign to him, Gideon swept his gaze over her, swiftly cataloguing everything he needed to know about her. Her shoulders were thin beneath that torn and filthy blouse, narrow enough that a raw anger began to swell inside him at the underfed state of her body. There were bruises on her wrists and red marks on her throat.

  Beneath the injuries, however, was the steady, courageous resilience of a woman who would not be brought down. There was a determination in her gaze as she stared at him, and his attention was drawn mercilessly to the fullness of her mouth, to her high cheekbones, and to the delicate slant of her nose.

  Her dark blond hair was tangled and matted around her shoulders, but he could imagine the softness of those strands, the delicate femininity of how they fell forward over her collarbone. Her hands were trembling, her breath an effort with each inhale. The fine line of her jaw as she raised her chin was compelling as hell, and he knew immediately she was a survivor, a warrior whose weapons were her courage and her mental strength.

  She was all female, vulnerable, and unprotected, a warrior who had reached the end of her reserves. Lily needed him, and a fierce excitement raced through him as he started forward to retrieve her—

  A squeal of terror ripped from her, and panic flared in those beautiful eyes as she scrambled back.

  Gideon stopped instantly, viscerally
aware of her fear and recognizing instantly that she was going to flee. He could feel it in his chest, in his mind, and in every fiber of his being. Her terror was so intense, almost overwhelming, shocking him for a moment. His mentor, Dante Sinclair, had taught Gideon long ago to turn off his empathic abilities. It was so automatic he hadn’t thought of it in centuries.

  Until now.

  Until every breath of pain, fear and torment Lily was feeling bore into him like the dark twisting of an ominous storm, raging through him, threatening his control—

  He shut it down. Just shut the damn thing down. Cut off all his emotions, and severed his connection to hers, swiftly reclaiming the calm, focused state that he lived by, the one so necessary for him to do his job.

  Still sweating from the sudden onslaught of emotion, Gideon focused on the woman before him and he searched for the words she needed to hear to ease her fear. He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t kind. His dominant mode of operation would be to haul ass over to Lily, toss her over his shoulder and break like hell for freedom, regardless of how terrified she was. Comfort and gentleness had no place in battle.

  But he made no move to lunge for her. Instead, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, he stayed right where was he was, refusing to inflict any more terror onto those heavily weighted shoulders. “Lily,” he said quietly, his voice soothing and gentle. “You can trust me.”

  Her eyes widened. “No.”

  No. He was shocked by the first sound of her voice. It was like the most beautiful spring breeze, caressing his skin. Musical, as if dozens of tiny bells had taken flight when she’d spoken. Her voice was rich and full, laden with emotion, with pain, and with the vibrations of a female who lived and breathed with more passion than Gideon had felt in centuries. It burst through him, right to his gut, thrusting into him like the fierce stab of passion and desire.

  He became truly aware of her in that moment. He saw the tiny pulse hammering at the base of her throat. He noticed the swell of her breasts beneath her tattered blouse. He felt the rush of desire emanating from her, like a raging tide of passion. Her cheeks flushed with need, her gaze riveted to his as her sensual reaction to him crashed past his shields, flooding him with the intensity of the emotions consuming them both. His body responded instantly, shockingly and he swore.