Dark Angel Box Set

by Hanna Peach

  “Talk,” the RaceKeeper said.

  “I want MirageWeaver bloodink. Proper MirageWeaver bloodink.”

  The RaceKeeper took a long drag of his pipe, blowing out smoke rings towards Passar’s face. The RaceKeeper was trying to unnerve him, but Passar wasn’t playing. For the first time in a long time, Passar felt energized. He felt hope that there was a way out of this mess he had created for himself.

  “Bloodink is going to cost you. Dearly. Now that the GiftKeeper is dead, there is no ready source of distilled bloodink.” The RaceKeeper paused. “At least, for now.”

  Passar felt a stab of worry in his gut. “The GiftKeeper…Mayrekk is dead? But…how?”

  “That information will cost you extra.”

  “Fine. I just want the bloodink.”

  “And how, my dear apostate, are you proposing to pay for it? Did you stumble across a lost treasure?”

  “I have information. Valuable information.”

  The RaceKeeper hummed with the pipe in his mouth. “Once a traitor, always a traitor, hey?”

  Passar bristled, but he bit back the angry remarks that he would love to throw back. “You want to deal with me or not?”

  “Very well.”

  Chapter 21

  That night, Jordan couldn’t sleep. Instead, he wandered the deserted corridors of the castle, thinking. The last few days had been tiring on his body, on his heart. And yet his mind whirred on and on. Had he done the right thing in letting Alyx go? Was he right to have been so cold towards her?

  She had made him feel alive and now... Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, remembered the feel of her skin under his hands, and he wondered if he would ever feel this way about anyone again.

  A muffled cry caught his attention. He paused, ears perked. There, it came again. It sounded like it was coming from behind the door to his right. He frowned. Silently, he moved towards the door to press his ear against it. Through the wood he could hear the pained crying of a woman. Jesus Christ, he had heard tortured cries like that before. Someone was being hurt behind those doors.

  He tested the door handle. Finding it unlocked, he threw open the door and stepped forward, hand at his sword handle. Inside, the room was barely lit with a streak of moonlight coming in from the narrow window. The room was just small enough to hold a double bed. A small pile of clothes and some toiletries were grouped on a dresser in a corner.

  Cleo was lying on the bed, twisted among the sheets, alone. Her eyes were shut, but her hands were fisted at her side. She was the one crying out in pain. Her arms and legs thrashed as she let out another scream. Jordan’s blood drained from his face. He had seen this before. She was going through DreamDust withdrawals.

  He grit his teeth. Serves her right. He should leave, let her come down on her own. After all, she did this to herself. Then her face turned towards him and the coldness around his heart melted. No one deserved to go through this alone.

  Jordan closed the door behind him and approached the bed. He called her name softly but Cleo didn’t wake. She began to thrash again, this time her head thudded against the headboard. Hell. Jordan climbed onto the mattress and pulled her body towards him, tucking her against his chest so that she wouldn’t hit her head when she thrashed. He wrapped both arms around her and held on. She was freezing, her skin clammy and covered in a sheen of sweat. He could smell the sickly sweet drug permeating from her pores.

  “Cleo, it’s okay,” he shushed in her ear. She struggled against him but still he held on, whispering reassurances to her.

  Finally the worst of it passed. Jordan loosened his grip on her and peered down into her face. Her eyes opened. She jerked away from him, gasping.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Jordan slid off the bed and stood. “You were thrashing, crying. I just wanted to stop you from hurting yourself. To make sure you’re okay.” He brushed down his shirt, feeling oddly uncomfortable as Cleo stared back at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t… Nothing happened.”

  Still she was silent.

  “I should go.” Jordan turned to leave.

  He heard Cleo’s voice, soft and broken floating to him in the dark. “Please. Stay.”

  He turned slowly. Cleo was sitting up, clutching her sheets to her chest and chewing her lip. She had lost the hardened look to her eyes and the constant defiant set of her chin. Now she just looked delicate…vulnerable.

  “I,” she paused to swallow, “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Jordan found himself nodding, and he sat next to her on the bed, not touching her. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Cleo settled down onto her pillow and pulled the sheets to her chin. “How long have you been going through withdrawals?”

  “Since I left Purgatory. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch DreamDust again.”

  “You seemed fine at training.”

  “You’re not the only one who can mask how they’re feeling.”

  He flinched. What did she mean?

  “I’m fine,” she continued. “It only gets really bad at night.”

  “You didn’t think to ask for help from someone?”

  “I asked you, just now.”

  “True.”

  “You must think I’m a horrible person.”

  “No, I don’t. If anything, watching you hits too close to home,” he admitted.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know what it’s like to want to avoid dealing with the pain in your life. I may not have used drugs, but I numbed myself in other ways.”

  “Lots of meaningless sex with beautiful women.”

  He snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Jordan. Your reputation precedes you. We’ve heard of you even in the bowels of Purgatory.”

  “I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What changed?”

  Jordan shifted on the mattress. He would not, could not, talk to Cleo about Alyx. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

  “Why? You planning on wearing me out?” The twinkle was back in Cleo’s eye and the smolder was once again in her voice.

  Jordan laughed. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

  “It’s easy when I have such a good nurse.”

  “Sleep.”

  “Is my nurse a naughty nurse?”

  Jesus. “Sleep. Or do I have to knock you out?”

  “Hmmm, sounds kinky.”

  Jordan let a little DreamWalker crackle blue between his fingers as a warning.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sleeping.” Cleo closed her eyes.

  Jordan shifted up the bed so that his back was resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out on the mattress. He told her that he would leave once she was asleep, but he planned on staying there until the morning − just in case she needed him again − which meant getting as comfortable as possible in a seated position and hopefully getting a little sleep.

  He looked down at Cleo. Her dark hair pooled around the pillow, and with her eyes closed, her long dark lashes touched the top of her cheekbones. She almost looked peaceful. Beautiful.

  “Jordan?” Her lips moved but her eyes stayed closed.

  “Yeah?”

  She paused for such a long time he thought she may have drifted off. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “That was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?”

  He watched her face screw up. “Bastard. Just accept my thanks already.”

  He chuckled. “Fine. I accept your thanks.”

  Her face melted into a small smile. “Doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything.”

  “Of course.”

  “I still don’t like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  Her smile grew. “Good night, Jordan.”

  “Good night, Cleo.”

  Chapter 22

&nb
sp; Four days…

  Jordan watched Cleo out of the corner of his eye as he moved up and down the line of warriors paired up and sparring. They hadn’t spoken since their strange night together last night. She hadn’t brought it up and he decided that he wouldn’t either.

  Cleo was sparring against a younger ex-Urielos warrior named Tezar. And she was winning. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her pout and flutter her eyes at the warrior. She was cheating by flirting.

  “Tezar,” he barked as he approached them. The young warrior turned his head towards Jordan, and Cleo delivered a blow to his side with her staff, the wooden stick that they were using as a training tool. He wobbled before righting himself.

  Cleo leaned against her staff and openly stared at him, giving him a long once-over. Jordan ignored her and spoke to Tezar. “You look like you need a break from sparring.” He pointed to a set of heavy sacks of grain at one side of their training area. “Go grab one of those bags and do a set of ten laps around the yard.”

  Tezar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and frowned. “Seriously, bro?”

  Jordan closed the short distance between them with two long strides. He snatched the staff from Tezar’s hands. “Seriously, bro,” Jordan mimicked. “Actually, make that two bags and double the laps.”

  “What the−”

  “Triple the laps.”

  Tezar opened his mouth to speak again but then closed it, obviously thinking better of it. Catching on aren’t you, kid?

  Tezar looked over at Cleo and winked. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”

  Cleo took her eyes off Jordan long enough to flutter her eyelids at Tezar. “How ever shall I stand our time apart?” She blew him a kiss.

  Tezar gave her a you-want-me smirk before he sauntered off.

  Jordan swung the end of his staff quickly, halting it just before he took off Cleo’s head. She jerked aside in surprise. “What the hell, Jordan?” She batted the staff away.

  “You want to live?”

  Cleo narrowed her eyes at him and placed her free hand on her hip. “Course I do.”

  “Then you’ll listen and you’ll listen good, ’cause I’m only going to say this once. The Darkened you’ll fight are not going to be impressed with you sauntering around with your breasts in the air and your−”

  “You noticed my breasts?” Her frown melted into a dark little smile.

  Jordan gritted his teeth and supressed his rising annoyance. “As I was saying,” he continued. “The Darkened aren’t going to be impressed with your flirting, not like Tezar was. If you want to fight, fight properly. So from now on, no more pouty lips or that damn eyelash batting thing you do.”

  Cleo stepped forward towards him, and he felt immediately off balance. Dammit, her eyes…so much like Lylianne’s. Except instead of Lylianne’s eyes that had stared at him, begging for him to help, Cleo’s similar dark gaze felt like they were devouring him.

  “Don’t pout at other boys. Don’t bat your eyelashes. Why, Jordan,” she took another step towards him, “you sound so much like one of my ex-lovers. Such a jealous thing.”

  “I am not one of your boy toys.”

  “This particular ex-lover was a woman.” She was standing toe-to-toe with him now. He refused to flinch or step back. He knew if he did, he would lose this little battle of wills.

  “Whatever floats your boat. I don’t give a damn about your sexual orientation. I care about keeping you alive.”

  “I like women, but I love men, just so you know.”

  “Your tricks don’t work with me, Cleo.”

  “Really?” Jordan felt Cleo sliding her staff along his leg and against his crotch. He willed himself not to flinch. “That’s too bad. I think you could give me what I want.”

  “Not what you want. What you need. Think quick.” Jordan twirled his staff and caught her at the back of her ankle, pulling her off her feet. Her eyes widened and she fell back. Jordan snapped out a hand and caught her by the forearm before she could fall flat on her ass.

  Before he could pull her up, she struck out with her staff. He blocked it. She swung again around her head and to his other side. He was forced to block again.

  “Oh, I do like when a man isn’t afraid to play rough.”

  He twirled his arm and his staff around her so that her back was now to his chest, trapped behind his staff. She let out a deep throaty laugh as she rolled her ass against his crotch. “Is that a weapon in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

  “This isn’t a game, Cleo.”

  “Really? Then why am I having so much fun?”

  Jordan reached up and grabbed her throat with his other hand. He heard her breath hitch but he knew it wasn’t from fear. He leaned his head down to her ear. “You are so much more than your sexuality, Cleo.” He watched her eyes widen, then, to his surprise, the corners filled with moisture before she snapped her lids shut and turned her head away.

  Aw, hell.

  He released her and pretended not to notice when she wiped her eyes with her fingers.

  “Um, you should,” he mumbled, “take a break. Then when Tezar’s finished his laps, go back to doing drills with him.”

  Jordan cleared his throat and turned to face the rest of his training group. Only then did he realize the whole group had stop to watch them.

  “What are you all staring at?” He yelled at them a little more forcefully than he needed to. “Get back to work now or you can all do laps.”

  Jordan moved along through the groups of warriors, who all began their dueling again, albeit with one eye on him. He moved to the absolute farthest part of the training area away from Cleo and made a point not to go near her for the rest of the day.

  That woman would be his undoing.

  * * *

  That night, Cleo jolted up from sleep when she heard the scrape of wood against the stone floor of her bedroom. Someone was in her room.

  Her eyes wildly searched the dark and zeroed in on a silhouette of a man sitting in a chair by her bed. “Jordan? What are you doing here?” Her heart rate should have slowed when she recognized his familiar figure but instead it increased.

  “Sorry if I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

  Cleo stared at him as he settled into his chair. He lifted his feet to rest them on the edge of the bed. He tucked his hands into his lap, leaned his head against the top of the chair back and closed his eyes.

  “Are you staying here all night again?”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “You know,” she pouted, “you’d be more comfortable if you lie in bed next to me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

  “Good night, Cleo.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere. She frowned. Jordan was going to spend another night in her room. Huh. That would be the second time any man had stayed in her room without expecting sex from her. The first time being last night when Jordan stayed against her headboard till the morning.

  What game was he playing?

  Slowly she lay back down. He didn’t make any movement towards the bed. Eventually she closed her eyes. She felt safe with Jordan there. Watched over. Maybe she did have a guardian angel. She couldn’t help this warm feeling growing in her heart. And it scared the hell out of her.

  Chapter 23

  Three days…

  The warriors and Castus were training hard every day. Alyx had been training in Tobias’s group, deliberately avoiding Jordan’s group or Aaban’s where Israel was training. When she wasn’t training she was in the Hall, or the “war room” as they had dubbed it, memorizing plans and running through scenarios in her head. There was so much that could go wrong.

  When she wasn’t doing either of those things, she was taking meals in her room. She told herself that she wasn’t doing it to avoid anyone − or two in particular. Ah hell, she was definitely doing it to avoid them. She needed some space from both Jordan an
d Israel. Things were complicated enough.

  Alyx rubbed her face. It was early in the morning, before the sun had risen and she couldn’t sleep. But she couldn’t stare at these plans anymore or she would go crazy. As she walked through the castle, she noted the uneasy restless vibe that even the silence in the halls had taken on. They were only days away from the great battle and she didn’t know whether they were ready yet.

  She didn’t notice where her feet were taking her until she found an open room with a balcony. Fresh air, she needed fresh air. She walked out onto the balcony, leaned heavily against the balustrade, closed her eyes and inhaled the cool dawn air.

  “If you jump, I’ll have to go after you,” the familiar voice called to her from above. She would recognize Israel’s voice anywhere. “It’s a long way down there. And out of the two of us, I’m not the one who can fly.”

  She spun, eyes opening. Israel was perching on part of the roof above the balcony wearing a small grin, his strong denim-clad legs lying casually out in front of him on the eave that jutted out over part of the balcony.

  In one powerful move, he leapt off the roof and landed softly at her side. He leaned against the balustrade, joining her as the rising sun sent lazy rays through the space between their bodies.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said. “I was just wandering around until I saw this balcony.”

  “I’m not surprised you came out here.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what happens, you’ll always find your way back to me.”

  Alyx peered at him from the corner of her eye. His face was calm and open. There was a quiet sureness to him now that she knew hadn’t always been there. “You really believe that?”

  He turned to look at her and a lock of his dark messy hair fell into his eyes. His hair had grown so much since they had first met. She wanted to push it from his forehead, but he tucked it out of the way and she missed her chance.

  “Someone told me once that if I love something, I should let it go. If it belongs to me, it will return. I know that you belong to me, Alyx. And I belong to you. Completely. You just don’t know it yet. Perhaps you’ve been too scared to let yourself realize it. But you will. If you have to try being with someone else to realize it, so be it.”