Darkness Reborn (Order of the Blade #5)

by Rowe, Stephanie

  “You’re a Calydon,” she rasped out, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been screaming for days.

  A Calydon? That was all she saw? Disappointment coursed through him, the same loss he’d experienced so many times when he’d thought he had a lead on his past. How could he have been wrong this time? It felt like she was seeing right through him to his core.

  “Go away,” she whispered. “Now.”

  And leave her dying? He was almost insulted that she would even suggest it. He had no idea who she was, but he was consumed with the need to keep her safe, to protect her. “No.”

  Kane pressed more firmly against her belly, trying to stem the flow of blood. She was burning up, and what looked like hairline fractures were streaking across her skin. Tremors were shaking her, and he could see the wildness of pain in her eyes. “Tell me how to help you.” He wanted to pick her up, but she looked so fragile, like she would shatter into a thousand fragments if he moved her. Damn. He had no concept of how to be gentle. He knew how to fight the bad guys, not how to handle someone so delicate she looked as if she would disintegrate in his arms.

  She shook her head and tried to roll onto her side away from him, as if she were going to try to get up. “Just let me go. I think I can make it.”

  No chance was Kane letting her go. He carefully grasped her shoulders. The heat from her skin burned his fingers, and he swore at the intensity of it. What the hell was happening to her? “I can feel your spirit fading,” he said. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Her gaze flickered to him, vulnerability etched on her face, and for a moment, her shields fell. In that split second, he felt the true depths of her anguish, a torment that filled her soul, the burden of responsibility so great that it was destroying her. The black void within him surged in response, recognizing the pain within her, and he grimaced, struggling against the sudden onslaught of emptiness.

  Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” He fought it back down as her body began to shake even more violently. She fell back to the ground with a thud that sounded like her skin had cracked even more, and she couldn’t suppress a small moan. He instinctively reached for her, but she tried to scoot away from him.

  “I’m here to help you.” Refusing to allow her to reject his aid, he gently grasped her shoulders. What was she seeing when she looked at him? He was a damned hero to most people. The only ones who looked at him in terror, like this woman was doing, were the rogue Calydons when they realized Kane was going to cut them down. But he wasn’t going to hurt her. There was simply no chance, no matter who she was. The urge to keep her safe was more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. It reverberated all the way to his soul, his need to protect her. She was safe with him, and he knew it, but she was still looking at him as if he were there for the sole purpose of killing her. “Why are you fighting me?”

  She closed her eyes, and he felt the pulse in her energy as she fought for her life. “Because you’ll have to kill me if you stay.”

  “Fuck that. I don’t kill women.” But the moment he said that, he knew it was a lie. He’d killed women before. Not many. Not with pleasure. But because the mission that drove him was bigger than the life of a single innocent, and as an Order member, he’d made an oath to protect humanity at any cost. But he wouldn’t hurt her. Never her. Never this woman in his arms, whose blue eyes looked at him as if she saw to the very depths of who he was, in a way that no one else ever had.

  “I’m different. You won’t be able to stop yourself.” Then another tremor shook her, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

  “Son of a bitch.” Fuck her resistance to him. There was no way he could leave her like this. He could help her. He knew he could. He felt it in the very fiber of his being. He had a connection to her, one that went past his scars to the part of him that held his secrets. Something in the depths of his soul recognized her, but he didn’t know what or why or how. All he knew was that he would lay down his damned life to protect her. The need to keep her safe was beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life.

  Carefully, so gently, trying not to scare her, trying to make her understand he was there to help, he lifted her onto his lap, supporting her against his chest. “Tell me what to do,” he demanded. “Tell me how to help you.”

  She shook her head, her eyes beginning to glaze. Desperation filled him, a sense of gaping loss consuming him. He was losing her. He knew he was. Because she wouldn’t trust him to help her. “I’m not a damned murderer,” he said. “Tell me what to do!” He couldn’t keep the fierceness out of his voice, couldn’t suppress his frustration with his inability to help her.

  She closed her eyes, and said nothing. She was shutting him out. Seriously? She was going to risk death instead of accepting his help? What the hell? “What’s your name?” he said urgently, trying to connect with her, to get her to trust him in time.

  Sarah Burns.

  Her voice was the faintest whisper in his mind, and rightness filled him at the intimacy of it. He leapt on the chance to connect with her, wrapping his spirit around hers and trying to warm her coldness. My name is Kane Santiago. I won’t hurt you. I swear it. He took her hand and set it on his chest. Can’t you feel it?

  Her fingers curled into his chest, and electricity shot through him. He sucked in his breath, shocked by the intensity of her touch, by the current rippling through him. His entire being leapt in response, and the dark void trying to consume him roared in rebellion as his spirit turned toward Sarah, as if she were a great light that could hold off the darkness.

  He knew in that moment that he needed her, on levels he couldn’t even comprehend. She was his salvation, his hope, his only chance to defeat the monster trying to chase him. “Sarah!” He hugged her more tightly against him, demanding her response. “Tell me how to save you!”

  I need your faith.

  My faith? What the hell was that all about? How was that going to save her? Where are your people? Do you have a healer I can take you to? He didn’t bother to ask about a regular doctor. He’d sensed that she wasn’t completely human. The richness of her spirit was too intense, too compelling. The air was lush and rich around her, as if she filled the atmosphere with life. As if she filled him with life.

  Her voice grew fainter in his mind. Tell me something worth living for, Kane. Make me feel it.

  Something worth living for? Son of a bitch. That was the one thing he had no answers for. He knew only death. He knew only loss. He lived with a void, violence and an empty past.

  Why do you get up every morning? Why do you decide to breathe another breath? She arched in his arms as another convulsion took her. What do you live for?

  Kane swore. I don’t know. Answers. I want answers. I refuse to die until I find out who I was.

  She gasped in pain, and more cracks appeared in her skin.

  Okay, so clearly not what she’d been looking for. Son of a bitch! What the hell did she want from him? All he did every day was protect the world from monsters, save innocents from a hell worse than death. That was his job, and now, here he was with one woman dying in his arms and he couldn’t stop it?

  Her relief cascaded through him, and he felt the warmth of their connection in his mind. You save innocents, Kane. That’s what matters to you.

  Fuck, yeah, I do, but that’s not what I live for.

  Tell me about someone you saved. A child. A woman. An innocent. Let me feel it. Show me something good to believe in. Her body started to shake more violently, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Now, she gasped. Now, Kane, now!

  He didn’t get it. How would a story help her? But he didn’t care. He tried to think back to all the times he’d gone to battle, all the deaths he’d caused, trying to remember one of the innocents he had saved. All he could recall was the death, the destruction, the carnage he’d left behind. The blood on his hands—

  Seriously, Kane? Sarah’s voice was weaker now, barely audible. That’s what you give me when
I ask for faith? That’s all you have? I thought you had more… Her energy grew fainter, colder, and he felt her distance herself from him. You gave me hope. You were my last chance. Hope dies…

  He was losing her! Kane swore, searching his mind for something worth remembering in his damned life. A child flashed through his mind. A small child. A baby boy.

  Anguish arced through her, and she gripped his arm. A boy? Tell me. Tell me.

  He couldn’t remember. He just had an image in his head of a child. Brown hair. Dark eyes. Something caught in his gut, something important, a gnawing certainty that the child was important. Who was it? Why couldn’t he remember?

  More, Kane. How did you save him? Show me his innocence. Sarah’s voice was urgent, desperate, and he knew they were out of time.

  He swore, unable to remember any more about the child. Frantically, he tried to think of another. I—

  Sudden movement caught his attention, and Sarah’s original assailant materialized in front of him again. There was a rush of heat, and then another ten Calydons appeared, teleporting from hell knew where. Kane’s weapons burned with the need to attack, but he couldn’t risk engaging.

  Sarah needed his help, and he wouldn’t abandon her to fight.

  The Calydons lunged at him. Kane immediately pictured the spot where he’d left his teammate and dematerialized, taking Sarah with him.

  Chapter Three

  Ryland spun around, his weapons ready as Kane appeared behind him. Ryland’s gaze immediately went to the woman in Kane’s arms. Sarah’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, her heartbeat too damn faint. “What’s going on?” Ryland asked, moving into a battle stance before Kane even spoke.

  Kane didn’t waste words. “Tell me a fairytale. Now!”

  “What?” Ryland stared at him as if he’d gone insane. “What are you talking about?”

  “She needs to hear a story of angels, goodwill and redemption. I got nothing to offer. Talk to me.”

  Ryland glanced down at the woman, and something in the hard lines of his face softened. Kane was shocked by the transformation on Ryland’s face. The warrior was always angry, always on the edge of violence, fury, and lack of control. And yet there was something on his face, an easing of tension, an expression of actual humanity as he looked at the woman in Kane’s arms.

  Kane instantly tightened his grip on her. “She’s mine.”

  “Fuck that.” Ryland strode across the earth right toward Kane, ignoring Kane’s growl of warning. “How in hell’s name did a bastard like you find an angel?”

  Kane swore as Sarah groaned in his arms. He pulled her more closely against him, trying to infuse her with his strength. “I need a story of angels, you dumb ass. Not compliments about her.”

  “Shit, man, don’t you get it?” Ryland looked up at him, and for the first time since Kane had known him, the warrior’s eyes were green instead of the bottomless black pits they always were. Was that Ryland’s real eye color, not the black they’d always been? “She’s an angel,” Ryland said quietly, almost reverently. “The real deal. Put her down. You aren’t worthy of holding her. None of us are.”

  “An angel?” Stunned, Kane looked down at Sarah. Her dark brown hair was tangled around her shoulders, her face ashen, tight lines of suffering around the corners of her mouth. Her throat was still bleeding from the attack, and more blood was oozing from her side. There were bruises all over her throat, and she was trembling violently against him. Protectiveness surged over him, and he knew it didn’t matter what she was. Right now, she was a woman who was dying in his arms, and he had to stop it. “Tell me a story of redemption, Ryland,” he said quietly, trying to soothe her with the tones of his voice. “Without it, she dies.”

  Ryland immediately went down on one knee, and bowed his head, a show of respect so far from the rogue warrior he always was. “My mother,” he said quietly. “She was the most beautiful soul that ever graced this earth.”

  Kane was stunned by the raw emotion of Ryland’s words, of the depth of reverence in his voice. Ryland was a cold killing machine, who cared only about following his own path, about revenge, about his own brand of justice. He was a warrior who felt nothing, who saw no beauty, who had no depth to his soul other than death, pain and anger, and yet his sincerity about his mother was so evident that Kane could feel the other warrior’s emotion. “Son of a bitch, Ryland,” he said softly, staring at the warrior he thought he knew. “Who the hell are you?”

  Ryland’s head snapped up. “Don’t swear in her presence, you bastard. She’s a fucking angel, and deserves far more than a piece of scum like you or I could ever offer her. Don’t ever forget it.”

  Kane. Sarah’s voice melted through his mind, and he swore at how weak she sounded.

  Listen to Ryland. He’s telling you about his mother. Kane knelt in front of Ryland, meeting Ryland’s grim face. “Talk, Ryland. Fucking talk.”

  “My mother died trying to keep me safe,” Ryland said urgently, looking at Sarah. “I’ll never forget the blood, the way she screamed when the—”

  Kane hit Ryland in the side of the head. “What the hell’s that? How is that a story of hope and faith?”

  Ryland’s eyes darkened to black again. “She’s my mother. She is all that was good in this world.”

  “She died? How is that good?” Jesus, did the man have no sense of humanity? Even Kane knew there was no hope and faith in a story about dead mothers.

  “To save the sorry ass of her fucked up son, yeah,” Ryland snapped. “That deserves a chorus in the heavens by the angels themselves.”

  Kane. Sarah’s fingers moved weakly, and he caught her hand. It has to be you. I can’t feel his emotions. Only yours.

  Shit. His emotions weren’t the kind that could save an angel, or anyone else for that matter. Kane looked at Ryland, desperate. “Help me, man. The feel good story has to come from me, but that’s not my thing. I got nothing.”

  Ryland met his gaze. “Dante. It has to be Dante. Tell her about Dante.”

  Sudden grief poured through Kane at the thought of their leader who’d been assassinated so recently. “I can’t—”

  I feel that, Sarah said. You loved him. Tell me. Who are you thinking about?

  Jesus. Emotions? She wanted him to talk about his emotions? He was a male. He didn’t do emotions—

  Ryland’s machete was suddenly at Kane’s throat. “You will get in touch with your emotions if I have to carve them out of you. You give the angel what she wants. Now.”

  Kane swallowed, the blade drawing blood as he met the eyes of the one man who understood how much it had broken him when Dante had died. Dante Sinclair saved my life, Sarah. He found me in a sewer, left for dead. I was covered in scars. I was a violent, deadly bastard ready to cut off any hand that tried to help me, and he didn’t give a shit. Kane ground his jaw against the sudden swell of emotions, against the memories of that day when he’d been down in the rotting sewage, with no idea of what he was, who he was or how he’d gotten there. He could still recall that aching sense of loss and emptiness inside him, nearly crushing him with the void.

  When Dante had reached out and extended his hand to him, it had been a lifeline Kane had never forgotten.

  He saved you? Sarah’s fingers tightened in his.

  He stared at her fingers curled so desperately in his hand, at the first sign of strength he’d seen from her. Her hand was so small, so slight, so vulnerable compared to his callused palms that were twice her size. The need to protect pulsed through him, and he clasped his hand more securely around hers, cherishing her small, vulnerable outreach. Yeah, he did. Dante gave me hope when I had none. I didn’t deserve it, Sarah. I was covered in scars, and my weapons were still bloody. I’d killed someone. Maybe many. We don’t know. But Dante didn’t care. He hauled me out of that rancid stink, and he offered me a chance to start again. I’ll never forget that. Emotions burned in Kane’s chest, grief for his leader that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge since Da
nte had died. He’d shut it down, like any halfway decent warrior would do, and as hell was his witness, he knew why he did it.

  It sucked to feel this kind of pain. He didn’t want to think about Dante being dead. He just didn’t.

  Thank you, Sarah whispered. That’s beautiful. Your love for him is so powerful.

  Love? Fuck that. What was love? He honored and respected Dante, yeah, but there was no man love between them. Kane shifted uncomfortably, knowing that if love was what she wanted him to describe, he had no chance. He wouldn’t know love if it stabbed him right in the eye.

  Ryland jabbed him with the machete. “Don’t be an ass. Pay attention to the angel.”

  The angel… Kane looked down at Sarah, and saw the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were still closed, her body still trembling, the cracks still visible on her skin. But that smile. That faint, barely-there smile hovering at the corners of her mouth struck something deep inside him, something he’d never felt before, a soul-deep sense of rightness, of connection, of knowing that he’d done right, that he’d helped her.

  He sifted his fingers through her tangled hair, needing to touch her. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened a sliver. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, like the sky on a clear summer day when the sun owned the earth and there was no one he had to kill. “Sarah,” he whispered, her name like a gift of salvation on his lips.

  Her trembling fingers closed around his hand, and the rest of the world fell away until it was just them. No one has said my name with such reverence in so long, she said. It sounds beautiful the way you say it.

  It is beautiful, Sarah.

  She smiled faintly, and her fragility tore at his heart. “Kane,” she whispered, her voice so raw and scratched that something inside him cracked. “Tell me what you see when you look at me.”