Gideon glanced around, moving closer to Lily. His brands were burning as he took inventory of their surroundings. “This your place?”
Kane shrugged. “Yeah.”
“And I thought my place was barren.”
“Fuck off.” Kane stalked over to an efficient fridge humming in the corner. “Got water. That’s it.”
“Works.”
Kane tossed him a couple bottles and then propped his shoulder against the wall, watching Lily scribble. “You guys can’t stay. Dante knew where I live. I’m sure Quinn will be able to find this place.”
Gideon nodded. “Thanks for getting us out of there.”
Kane’s black eyes glittered. “I did it because I think we need Lily to find Frank and stop Ezekiel from being released. It wasn’t an altruistic concession to the fact she gives you a hard-on.”
Gideon tensed. “It isn’t like that.”
“I don’t care what it’s like. I just want answers.” Kane’s eyes went back to Lily, who seemed oblivious to the conversation. “Frank is targeting the Order. He’s trying to fragment us, and it’s working.”
“I know.” Gideon set his hand on Lily’s head while she wrote, needing to touch her. “If he splits the Order up, we’re history. Ryland was right about that.”
“You’re the leader. You need to pull everyone together.”
Gideon shook his head. “The weapons chose Quinn. I won’t interfere.”
“You already interfered when you refused to let him kill Lily.”
Gideon ground his teeth. “I wasn’t—”
“The weapons chose him when we were pursuing Ana and trying to avenge Elijah’s death. That mission is over. Even Dante said you’re up next.” Kane fastened his eyes on him. “You’re the one the men most respect, and now you’re breaking your oath and refusing to listen to Quinn. It’s going to make everyone wonder who they should be listening to, or, like Ryland, thinking they can do whatever the hell they want. It’s up to you to pull this shit together.”
“I’m not a leader. I do my job, and that’s it.”
“Fuck the humility crap, Gideon. You step up, or we all go down. You’re the one everyone’s waiting for.” His gaze flicked to Lily. “Either she comes through and proves you were right to keep her alive, or…” He looked at Gideon. “Or I fear Ryland’s explosion is just the start of the crumbling of the Order. We’ll be no match for Ezekiel, or even Frank.” He downed the rest of the water. “I’m going back. I have to see what’s going on. You got a phone on you?”
Gideon nodded.
“Keep in touch.” Kane’s gaze went to Lily again, and Gideon saw a burning question in there, one that had nothing to do with the Order. Gideon realized that there was another reason Kane had stepped up for her, even if it was one he wouldn’t acknowledge to himself. Lily was a researcher, and she might have answers about Kane’s past that he’d been searching for. Or she might at least know where to go to look for them. She might be able to find out what the scars on his body meant.
“I’ll ask her later,” Gideon said quietly. “When this is over.”
Kane gave him a sharp look. “Just help me avenge Dante. That’s all I want.”
Gideon nodded. “When you go back, tell them that I’m protecting Lily not because she’s my sheva but because I believe we need her to stop Frank.”
“They won’t believe you.”
“Tell them anyway. If I’m truly seen as the leader, as you say, it’ll at least make them question the need to kill her.”
“That’s not going to be enough to pull everyone back together.”
Gideon’s fingers tightened in Lily’s hair as she made a small noise of frustration and continued to write. “It’s all I can do right now.”
Kane ground his teeth. “You need to do more.”
Gideon stiffened. “I’m doing what I can. Hell, Kane, you think I want Ezekiel to get free? You think I don’t give a shit that Dante is dead? I spent my entire life dedicated to the Order and my oath is what has given my life meaning for the last five hundred years. There’s no way that I’m going to stand back and let this thing crash and burn around me. So back the hell off!”
A brief smile flashed across Kane’s face. “That’s all I wanted to hear. That’s the message I’ll pass on.” Then he shimmered and was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lily flipped on the overhead light as she stepped into her office, as a sense of utter completeness settled around her. Her books were everywhere and papers strewn about. It was exactly as she’d left it two years ago, except for the layer of dust all over everything. The grime on the one large window. And her plants. All eight of them dead.
She brushed her hand over one of the leaves, and the brittle brown leaf crumbled under her touch. No rejuvenation there. She picked up some of the soil and felt a sense of peace. The soil was still alive, still a source of power for her. Of strength.
Nature would always be good for her, but her true source of power was the earth. “God, it’s good to be back.”
The dirt bunched in her fist, she inhaled the scent of paper, leather from the old bindings, and mustiness from the office being closed up for so long. The futon she’d slept on so many nights was against the wall, her desk was buried under mounds of paper, and the small fridge still hummed in the corner.
It was as if she’d never left. As if time had stood still.
Lily walked over to the desk and sat down in her deep blue chair, specially ordered to match…she glanced guiltily at Gideon. Would he realize the chair was the exact shade of his eyes? She’d never seen a picture of him before she’d met him, but all accounts of his deadly attacks had recounted his blue eyes again and again, until she’d been certain she knew the exact shade.
Apparently, she had.
Gideon shut the door behind them, locking it carefully. He’d been tense ever since Kane had left. He’d been vigilantly searching for any threats coming after them, not pleased with Lily’s insistence that she needed to go to her office. He wasn’t nearly as confident as she was about it being unfindable, but she’d needed her texts to translate the rest of the knife, or as much of it as she could remember.
Lily spread her hands over the wooden desk she’d carefully selected when she’d first moved into this office. It had no coating on it, just linseed oil, so there was nothing between the wood and her skin. It wasn’t the same as burying her feet in the earth, but it was elemental enough that she’d gained strength from it when she’d been overwhelmed by her research or her memories.
Or her nightmares.
Gideon paced the room, inspecting the window, the air vents and every other vulnerability where someone could gain access. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
Watching him assess her office so carefully, a tiny trickle of fear crept in past Lily’s happiness to be home. Even in her office, she wasn’t truly safe, was she? Would she ever feel safe again? “I needed a large office because I have so many books.” It felt like such a mundane topic, her books, when the world was falling apart outside these walls, but at the same time, that’s what she wanted to think about. For one minute, for ten minutes, to just pretend that her life was about books and academia again.
But as she watched Gideon’s well-muscled body patrol her office, she knew it wasn’t entirely true anymore. Did she really want to go back to a life of books and research, a life where there was no dangerous warrior stirring things inside her that were so intense, so powerful, and so alive?
God, no, she didn’t. She wasn’t the woman she’d been when she left here. Not anymore.
“I thought it would be in a university, not a random office building. Didn’t you work for a college?” Gideon asked. He glanced over at her, and his eyes darkened at her expression. Lust flared hard and fast between them, like a blazing tension cutting through the air.
She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the surge of desire pulsing through her. Now was not the time, and they both knew it. And if they ha
d sex, the bond would tighten, and heaven help her, the last thing they could afford was for Gideon to go rogue from the sheva bond. They both needed him sane right now. “I was a guest professor, but like I said, I needed my office to be kept private.”
Lily felt the tension and stress easing away from her, the confidence building as she surrounded herself with the safe and familiar, her world before it was ripped apart. With Gideon there to keep her safe, and her well-ordered world surrounding her, it felt right. Better. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting the peaceful vibes of the room soothe her, ease her rising desire for the man she’d allowed into her inner sanctum. “When I’m here, nothing else can bother me.” How she’d dreamed of being back here when she was at Nate’s. This place was her home more than her condo was. Here, she was in control. It was about academics and research. Her sanctuary.
Gideon walked around the room, peering at bookcases. “You have stuff in here that isn’t about Calydons.” He sounded surprised.
“It all relates to Calydons in some way.” She listened to the sound of his footsteps, the heavy thud of each boot on her floor. She never allowed anyone into her space, but it felt right to have Gideon here, to let him see she was more than the terrified, bruised victim he’d found at Nate’s. She was proud of who she was, of what she’d accomplished, and there was something so elementally satisfying to be sharing it with him.
Gideon fell silent, and she knew he’d paused to read something. She opened her eyes, then shot out of her chair when she realized what shelf he was inspecting. “Oh, um, don’t read those—”
“You have three entire bookshelves of binders on me.” His finger went to the spine of one them. “Deaths Gideon Caused 1650-1687,” he read. He moved along and peered at another binder, a thin one. “How Gideon Deprived the World of Hope: the Slaying of Juliette Pemberton.”
“Oh! Don’t read that one!” She skirted around her desk and darted across her office, but Gideon had already swept it off the bookshelf.
“You tracked all the people I killed?” His voice was cold, devoid of emotion, which told her exactly how angry he was. “You made up stories about how the world would be different if I hadn’t murdered those people? That’s what you spent your time doing?”
“Gideon, I didn’t know you. I didn’t understand—” She grabbed for the binder, and he raised it out of her reach. “Don’t read that one, please.”
“Why not? I assume you never bothered to research how the world would have been affected if I hadn’t interfered, did you? All the people who would have died if I hadn’t acted?”
She felt her cheeks burn. “No,” she admitted. “But I would now. Please give me that binder.”
He turned away and flipped it open and started to read. “The Calydon warrior Gideon is widely known for his brutal and vicious slaying of innocents throughout history. His ability to steal life from innocent young women without flinching is well-documented.” He fell silent, reading, then finally looked up. “You wrote and published this crap?”
She set her hands on her hips, unable to quell the guilt surging through her. “You told me earlier that it didn’t matter if people thought you were cold and ruthless. You said you spent your life trying to foster that reputation. Why do you care?”
“Because you wrote it. That’s why I care.” Gideon held up the spiral bound document. “These are your beliefs. Your prejudices. Did you ever stop to think that it absolutely fucking broke me every time I had to kill an innocent? A woman?”
She swallowed. “No.” She should have, though. How could Gideon have hidden who he really was so completely? If she’d been an unbiased researcher, she would have seen it. But she hadn’t been. She’d been damaged and angry and trying to fix her life by hurting him. “I’m sorry, Gideon.”
“Jesus, Lily.” He stalked across the room, putting distance between them, the binder held tight in his fist. “You make me sound like a monster.”
“I don’t think you are one now.”
He faced her. “How could you possibly change your mind? I feel your hatred for me in every word on this page.” He turned the page. “Even more so than other Order members,” he read. “Gideon can stand over the bleeding body of a young girl and not care. Instead, he is more likely to be seen beating his chest to declare yet another victory for the Order. Even when his own sheva fell at his feet, she meant nothing.” His voice tightened.
“Gideon,” she whispered. “Please stop reading that.”
“Gideon’s sheva was but another faceless sacrifice to this bogus mission of the Order,” he continued, the stiff cardboard cover bending under his tight grip. “But to her family, Juliette Pemberton was—” He jerked his eyes off the page, staring at her in shock. “You found out her name?”
Lily walked over to him, and set her hand on his arm. “Gideon, it won’t do any good for you to read about her. Please stop.”
“Jesus. You found out her name.” His voice was a raw whisper, and he pulled out of Lily’s grasp and stumbled over to the futon, sinking down on it, the binder clutched in his hands. “Juliette,” he whispered. “Juliette Pemberton.”
Lily’s throat tightened. “I wrote that essay because I wanted to punish you. I wanted to make you suffer, to feel something for all the grief you’d caused others. I didn’t believe you cared, or that you felt anything, and I hated you for that. I hated that I could suffer, and you felt nothing, so I wrote that essay as a letter to you, with the sole goal of finding a way to break through your wall and make you understand what effect you’d had on the lives you’d destroyed.”
Gideon crushed the binder in his fists, his eyes bloodshot. “You have no idea—”
She dropped to her knees before him, grabbing his thighs. “But I do now. I didn’t know before, but I do now.” She laid her hand over his fists. “Please, Gideon, don’t read that essay. I beg you.”
His gaze flickered to her. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The essay. Her family. Her story. Did you make it up, or is it true?”
She hesitated. “Gideon—”
“Just tell me.” His eyes were cold now. “Tell me the damn truth.”
“It’s true. It’s all true. I tried to write it in a way to hurt you, but the facts are accurate.”
He looked at the notebook crushed in his hands. “I have to know.”
“Then let me tell you about her.”
“No. I need her story, and I need it the way you told it.” His jaw was hard, his gaze unwavering.
“Why? Why would you torture yourself like this?”
He looked at her. “She was my sheva. She died to keep me alive. I owe her this much. I owe her my pain and my tears, if they will come.” His gaze was fierce and unyielding. “And I owe it to you, as well, sheva. I need to know the pain I caused you. It is my duty.” He jerked his head toward the desk. “Work on the knife. We don’t have time for you to be telling tales to me, anyway.”
Lily didn’t need to ask him if he was certain. She knew he was. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. They were cold to the touch, and he didn’t return the kiss. “Just so you know,” she said quietly. “When you’re done reading it, I’ll be here for you.”
Then she stood up and forced herself to walk back to her desk. She sat down in her blue chair and picked up the notes she’d scribbled at Kane’s apartment, but she couldn’t keep herself from looking at Gideon.
For a long time, he simply stared at the crumpled binder in his hands.
Then he set it beside his leg on the futon and pressed his palms to his eyes, his elbows propped on his knees.
Her throat tightened, and she pushed back her chair to go to him.
“No.”
It was one word, but it stopped her. She pressed her lips together and pulled the chair back up to her desk.
“You need to work, Lily.” Gideon didn’t lift his head, and his voice was soft. “We’re running out of time. You hav
e to focus.”
Lily took a deep breath. He was right. She picked up her notes and forced herself to read them, gradually shutting Gideon and everything else out of her mind, retreating into the academic world she knew so well.
It was many hours later before the rustle of paper penetrated her subconscious. She looked up to see Gideon smoothing out the crushed paper and flattening the pages. Then he settled back on the futon and finally began to read.
*
Ana stopped as Frank flipped on the lights, flooding a massive pit with stark white light. They were deep underground, standing at the edge of the huge cavern looming below them, dug into rock hundreds or thousands of years ago. It looked like an ancient coliseum, with holes carved out of the walls at the base, as if they were tunnels leading off to prison cells. It was cold, damp and brutally desolate, and Ana couldn’t stop herself from shuddering. She felt like she should be in Greece, not underground in eastern Oregon. “What is this place?”
“You don’t recognize it?” Frank walked forward, leaning over a hard clay railing to study the ground below. “It was our training ground.”
“Ours? What do you mean?”
“This is where Illusionists were brought to refine their skills many centuries ago, and even far more recently than you imagine.”
Ana’s belly twisted with discomfort when she realized what he meant.
Thousands of years ago, when Illusionists were first discovered, they were used by brutal leaders to torture prisoners. The Illusionists would create false images so real that the people seeing them were unable to convince themselves they were fake. The illusions were dark and terrifying ones that would leave the prisoners screaming and writhing as they clawed their neck to pieces, trying to pry the rabid dog off their throat. A dog that didn’t exist, except as an illusion.
It wasn’t just the horrors that the Illusionists could create that tortured prisoners; it was the fact that the prisoners eventually went insane, unable to tell truth from reality, until everything was a terror.
Darkness Seduced (Primal Heat Trilogy #2) (Order of the Blade) Page 22
