Forever in Darkness (novella) (Order of the Blade #4) (5 page)

"What is it?" Catherine
frowned as he shoved her sleeve up. "What are you looking for?"

"My mark." Ian swore as
he bared her forearm. Her skin was clear and unblemished. There was no silver
line forming on her skin, signifying that by making love, they'd just done the
first stage of the bond that would seal her as his
sheva
, his soul mate.
A gaping void shot through him so intense that it seemed to erode his entire
soul. "Jesus, Catherine. It's not there."

"What's not?" She leaned
next to him, her shoulder brushing against his as she peered at her arm.

"My brand." Sweat beaded
on Ian's brow, and he felt like the world was starting to slide away from him.
He held out his arm, showing her the black brand in the shape of a mace.
"As my mate, when we complete any of the six stages of bonding that will
complete the bond between a Calydon and his mate, my brand begins to form on
your arm. When we complete the bond, the image of my brand is complete on your
skin, binding us forever." He stared at her arm, willing the lines to
appear.
Come on, you bastard.

She rubbed at the skin, but nothing
happened. "So, I'm not your mate?" She sounded hesitant, as if
uncertain whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You are my mate." He
gripped her arm tighter, unable to comprehend that there was no mark. "I
know you are." The connection between them was too great, and even the
rest of his team had sensed that she was his soul mate when they'd encountered
her the first time, on the mountain. "I don't get it."

He released her arm, his entire
soul screaming that it was wrong, that she was his. He staggered backwards,
fighting against the emotions streaking through him. The loss. The raw,
debilitating loss. His woman, standing before him and yet out of his grasp.
Jesus. Was this the loss that would drive him over the edge? Not actual death,
but an inability to cement the bond that was ingrained so deeply in his marrow
that it was literally what drove him and every other Calydon male through
everything they did? The instinct and need to claim his woman and make her his,
to protect her as only a mate can do?

But her arm was clear. No mark.
"Jesus." The world was spinning, and he braced himself against the
wall, trying to find his equilibrium.

Catherine stared at him, her brow creased
in worry. "I felt it, too," she said. "That connection. No one
has ever affected me like that, and I thought it was impossible. Was that being
a soul mate?"

"Yeah, yeah." Crap! How
had it not worked? He needed to bond with her to keep her safe, to make sure he
couldn’t lose her again. "It's impossible for my mark not to appear on
your arm after we complete a stage of the bond.
Impossible."

Catherine rubbed her hand over her
arm. "Maybe I'm not your soul mate—"

"No!" He lunged for her
and grabbed her shoulders, hauling her up against him. "Don't you feel
what's between us? Didn't you feel what happened when we made love? You're
mine, Catherine, and I don't know what's going on, but I swear on this very
earth that I will not stop until I find out what happened and figure out how to
bring you into my circle of protection." He swore under his breath.
"Do you understand? I will not let you die again.
I will not.
"

Tears filled her eyes, and she
shook her head. "No," she said. "You don't understand. You won't
be able to stop it."

Ian went cold at her words, at her
first acknowledgement that he was right about her dying before. At her claim
that it would happen again. At the truth that if he didn't figure out how to
bond with her, she might be right.

He might lose her after all.

Disappointment surged through Alice
at the haunted expression on Ian's face. How was it possible that what had just
happened between them hadn't meant anything? How had it not connected them? It
had to mean something! It had been so incredible.

She knew Ian was her chance. Her
opportunity. He was the one person who had been able to get past the chains
that held her down and unleash at least a little bit of who she wasn't supposed
to be. How could that not be real?

But there was no mistaking the fact
there was no mark on her arm.

She wasn't his soul mate, and
without that, there wouldn't have been enough between them to harness the power
trying to destroy her. Defeat filled her heart. "Ian—"

The door behind him exploded off the
hinges, the steel door careening right toward them. She yelped, but there was
no time to evade it—

Moving faster than she could even
register, Ian tackled her, dragging her to the side and out of the path of the
door as it crashed into the wall he'd just made love to her against. He spun
them out of the way, using his body to shield her as the splintered debris from
the doorframe showered them. Alice ducked her head against him, then gasped
when she saw a huge, shadowed male figure burst through the door. Before she
could even shout a warning, he swung at Ian, a massive glowing claw aiming
right for his neck—

Ian ducked a split second before it
reached him, and he shoved Alice away as he spun to face the intruder. The
male's eyes were glowing green, and he was tremendous in size, so much bigger
than she'd last seen him. His pale blue oxford shirt was streaked with grease,
his dress pants were torn, and dirt was caked on his jaw. "Flynn!"
she shouted. "It's me! Don't attack—"

"Bitch," Flynn sneered,
and he lunged for her.

Ian leapt in front of Flynn,
blocking his path toward Alice. She jumped out of the way as the two males
engaged, massive muscled bodies crashing against each other. "Dammit, Flynn!
Don't do this! I need you!" She lunged toward them to stop them, and
suddenly she was jerked backward.

She spun around to see James behind
her. "Why—"

"Are you a fool? Run! He's
going to kill you!" James grabbed her and pushed her toward the doorway to
the main bar. "Go!"

Alice hesitated, and then she saw Flynn
rear back to attack Ian. His eyes were blazing with such fierce hatred that it
felt like a knife had been plunged into her heart. He was lost. Flynn was lost,
and it was her fault. And worse yet, without him, her last hope died, now that
she knew there wasn't enough with Ian. "Dammit," she whispered.
"I can't fail this time. I owe her—"

Then she saw a glowing green disc
slicing through the air, right at her. She yelped and dove for the door, but Flynn's
disc cut across her belly, ripping open her skin. Alice gasped and James caught
her arm as she stumbled. "Go!" he shouted as he shoved her through
the doorway. "Before he gets away from that Calydon!"

Gripping her belly, Alice stumbled
through the doorway into the bar, glancing back over her shoulder just as Ian
threw Flynn into the room and across the floor. Flynn hit the wall beside the
dart board, and no one even bothered to move when he didn't get up. Another
dart hit the board beside him, and a cheer went up for the bulls-eye. "Oh,
Flynn," she whispered as she slid to her knees, despair crushing her as
the poison from his disc began to spread through her body. "You
didn't." But he had. He'd tainted the disc before he'd thrown it. He'd
used his worst against her.

James rushed over to crouch beside Flynn
and checked him, then he looked up at Alice, his face grim. "Run," he
said. "
Run.”

Flynn turned his head and looked
right at her, the promise of her death blazing in his eyes. Then he rolled onto
his side and started to get up, ignoring James who was frantically trying to
talk him down.

"Oh, crap." She tried to
get up, but her legs gave out, the weakness already spreading. Flynn shoved
James aside and lunged to his knees. He was swaying violently, still stunned
from Ian's attack, but he wasn't dead. He was coming for her—

Then Ian cut off her view of Flynn.
Blood was pouring from a wound in his shoulder, and his eyes were blazing with
the adrenaline of battle. She froze, stunned by the power rolling off Ian. No
longer did he have the aura of a man being chased by shadows and demons, a man
who'd been so ravaged by the failure of his mark to appear on her arm. He was a
man in control of the entire world. He didn't even pause. He just sprinted over
to her and scooped her up in his arms.

Alice gasped at the pain shooting
through her belly as he tucked her against his chest. "Ian—"

"No." He looked down at
her as he shoved his hip against the front door and flung it open. "You
don’t get to die again. It's pissing me off. I'm taking over."

Then he strode out into the alley,
straddled a motorcycle and locked her down in his arms.

Alice fought for breath, the pain
so intense she could barely breathe. Ian's body was so hard and hot against
hers, and she leaned into him, unable to hold herself up. Where was he taking
her? "Let me go," she gasped. "I need to try to talk to Flynn—"

"No chance." Ian punched
the ignition, and the bike engine roared to life.

Panic hit her at the realization he
was taking her from her last hope, and she started to struggle, frantic to get
free—

Then the alley door was flung open,
and Flynn charged out of it. Alice froze at the sight of him, with his green
eyes, his disheveled appearance and the look of insane rage marring his
sculpted features. Who was her better chance? But when she saw the promise of
death in Flynn's eyes, she knew what the answer was. Ian might be part demon,
but he was the one who was keeping her alive right now, not Flynn.

She had no choice. She had to trust
Ian, this man who knew things she didn't understand, the man whose mere touch
ignited fires within her that she never should be able to feel. There was
something between them. Maybe it wasn't soul mates. Maybe it wasn't anything
substantial, but it was more than she'd ever had before. She didn't know what it
was, she had no idea how it could help her, but he was her best hope.

Ian was her choice.

As Flynn sprinted at them, Alice
wrapped her arms around Ian's waist and held on.
Dear God, let this be the
right decision.

Ian glanced down at her, and she
saw the intense satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as she turned herself over to
his safekeeping. He brushed his fingers over her forehead, a tender gesture
that tightened her throat. No one ever offered her comfort. She wasn't supposed
to let it happen. That wasn't her job.

But it felt so good, she wanted to
just bury herself in this man and accept all he had to offer.

Ian nodded at her, then he lifted
his head and looked at Flynn as he closed in on them. There was a flash of
black light and a loud crack, and then Ian's mace flashed into his palm. He
hurled it casually at Flynn, and the weapon slammed into Flynn's chest at
almost point blank range.

Alice winced as the man who had
once been so close to her roared with fury and flew backwards from the impact.
But as Ian gunned the engine and peeled out of the alley, Alice saw Flynn rip the
mace from his body and leap to his feet. He broke into a run to chase them just
as Ian turned the corner and Flynn disappeared from sight.

He was coming after her. She knew
he was. Now that he had her scent, he would not stop until he had her.

Unless the man who had her locked
down against his body was able to provide a miracle.

Then the bike hit a bump in the
road, Alice gasped at the burst of pain, and suddenly Flynn didn't matter.

He'd already killed her.

No!
Ian's enraged voice
filled her mind

Alice looked up in shock at the man
holding her so tightly against his chest, startled by the sound of Ian's voice
in her head.
You can hear my thoughts?

I can.
His eyebrows shot up
in sudden surprise as he realized what he'd just said.
Shit, I can! That's
good, Catherine. That's a good sign, because that kind of connection can only
happen if you're my
sheva
. Is there a mark on your arm?

Alice glanced at her skin, and
there was still nothing. Disappointment flooded her. "No."

Crap!
He wasn't looking at
her. He was watching the road, his jaw flexed, his eyes scanning their
surroundings for threat, for safety, for what? The wind was whipping through
his hair, making it rage wildly around his head as he sped down the street.
You
stay alive, Catherine. Do you understand? For five minutes, and then I'll take
over. Got it?

Alice closed her eyes as a wave of
weakness washed over her.
Yeah, sure, no problem.
But even as she said
the words, she felt another hit of pain.
You think you can keep me alive?
Really?

Ian's grip tightened around her.
Hell,
yeah. Just watch. You'll be so damned impressed you'll want to jump me. I'm
that good.

A snort of laughter bubbled up
inside her, a reaction so incongruous to her situation and her life that Alice
almost didn’t even recognize it. Ian had made her laugh?

That alone was almost worth dying
for.

Ian gripped Catherine more tightly,
his adrenaline raging as he felt the depths of her pain. She had no emotional
shields from him, and he could feel everything she was feeling. Right now, the
physical pain and her terror of death was so intense he could barely
concentrate on the road. How could he feel her pain so intensely, but not be
able to get past that shield inside her or get his brand to appear on her arm? Something
was wrong, seriously screwed up, and he had to solve it fast.
We're almost
there. Stay with me.

He gunned the engine, knowing where
he had to take her, knowing that there was only one place nearby that would
have the energies to support what he needed to do…what he should not be able to
do without his mark on her skin.

Keeping his arm anchored around
her, even though she was hanging onto him with surprising strength, Ian forced
her to lean into the turn with him, surprised once again by her acquiescence,
her absolute willingness to accept his direction and take his lead. Without her
participation, if she tried to resist, he wouldn't be able to save her.

Panic hit him at the idea of losing
her, and he immediately shoved it aside. This was his world now, not the curse,
and he owned who he was. He was not going to let her die. Not this time. Fuck
the brand. She was his
sheva
, and he didn’t need a damned mark to know
it.

A break in the woods appeared on
his right, and Ian whipped the bike onto the dirt path, speeding through the trees.
He hunched low over the handlebars, using his body to protect Catherine as the
branches whipped past them, slicing at his face and shoulders as he raced under
them.

He broke out of the woods within
moments, and the full moon gleamed as he sped down the rows of gravestones in
the Fitzgerald cemetery. He drove past the newly upturned earth and the shovel
he'd left behind and turned to the left, weaving between headstones as he made
his way toward the one grave with the power he needed.

Ian.
Catherine's voice was
laced with pain and fear.
I could use a little help here. You're not really delivering
on your promise to save my life.

Ian chuckled at her irritated tone,
so incongruous for the level of agony she was enduring.
You're so demanding,
sweetheart. No wonder the boys like to kill you.

You're an ass.

I can be.
He reached his
goal, and the bike skidded to a stop in front of the oldest gravestone in the
plot, a chipped piece of granite bearing the name Augustus Fitzgerald, his
ancestor who had earned the curse that had doomed all of his progeny. A man so
powerful that he had been widely recognized as one of the most dominating Order
of the Blade members ever to live. A man who had been so plunged into despair
by the strength of the curse that he had taken his own life over a woman, an
act of dishonor that had banned him from the annals of the Order for all
eternity. A man who had carried such power that the earth around his grave
still vibrated with the sheer raw Calydon power that had made him such an
indomitable force before he'd angered the wrong warrior.

Ian was going to take that power
and use it to save the woman he couldn’t access on his own. He leapt off the
bike, cradling Catherine tightly as he strode across the grass and set her down
beside the marker.

She gripped his arm as he laid her
on the grass, and Ian swore as he finally saw her face. Her skin was ashen, her
lips pale, her eyes glazed with pain. Denial roared through him, and he
straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. He leaned over her and
took her face in his hands. "Listen to me," he said. "You're my soul
mate, so I can heal you."

She shook her head. "I'm not
your soul mate—"

"You are. I knew it the first
moment that we met, when you died in my arms on the mountain side. Everyone
there knew it."

She stared at him, a furrow of
confusion on her brow. "On the mountain?"

Shit. She didn't remember? Not that
it mattered. He bent his head closer, his whole body stirring with the
intensity of feeling her beneath him. "Open yourself to me, Catherine. Let
me inside your soul."

She sighed. "No, I can't. I'm
not allowed—"

"Screw that. You're allowed to
die?" Ian stretched out beside her and pulled her against him, wrapping
his legs around hers so they were entangled along the lengths of their bodies.
He closed his eyes at the sensation of her body against his. Desire rushed
through him, and a sense of absolute rightness that this was where he belonged.

And then it was followed by a
ripple of fear of what it would be like if he lost her again, now that he'd finally
connected with her.

This was how it began for each of
his ancestors. Finding that woman. Finding that peace. And then the loss…the
despair… and then death by the most dishonorable, most ignominious, way
possible: suicide.

Then her body began to tremble, and
he didn't care about the past anymore. All that mattered was healing her.
"Okay, Catherine, you need to close your eyes and relax your mind."
He pulled her closer against him, tangling their bodies together. "I'll
pull you into my healing sleep, and use my powers to heal you."

"You can do that?" She
snuggled closer to him and laced her hands behind his neck. The tentative feel
of her fingers on his skin sent shock waves all the way through him.
God,
Ian. It feels so incredible to have you against me. It shouldn't be like this.

"Of course it should." Rightness
vibrated through him. How could this ever be wrong? He pulled her closer and
pressed his lips to the side of her neck. "Just close your eyes and relax.
Since you're my
sheva
, I can heal you." But even as he said the
words, doubt niggled at the back of his mind about the fact that making love
hadn't made his brands appear on her arms. What if he couldn't heal her without
that mark? "Just relax."

Pain rippled through her, and Ian
swore, placing his hand over the wound in her belly. "Hang in there,"
he said urgently. "I can fix this."

"Okay." But her voice was
pinched with agony and fear, weak with the effort of trying to hang on.

Ian immediately closed his eyes and
let himself drift into the dreamlike state of his healing sleep. He reached out
for Catherine and found her spirit immediately. She was open to him and allowed
him right in. The moment he was connected with her, he felt the poison rushing
through her body, like a powerful river of black water, destroying every cell
it passed. Ian let his mind move past the poison, searching for the core of who
she was. He could do nothing for her until their connection was so tight that
it was as if they were one.

But he couldn't find her inner
spirit. All he could see was poison, pain and fear. It was as if her soul
didn't exist, or that it was blocked from him. He swore as he felt her energy
beginning to fade, and he shoved more ruthlessly at her barriers, desperate to
get through.

Nothing.

What's going on, Ian?

Nothing. It's fine.
Realizing
he needed help, Ian pulled away from her and redirected his mind toward the
earth beneath them, the ground that his ancestor had been buried in. He reached
into the soil, and immediately felt the ripple of power from the males buried
in the cemetery, males that had been stripped of life before their time. He
connected with the power of his ancestors, and it surged through him, vibrating
though him.

He called upon it, bringing it into
his body. Energy began to flow through him, like hot sparks crackling through
his body. He kept pulling it in, more and more, until his entire body was
vibrating from the force of it.

He pulled Catherine tighter against
him, opened the connection between them as much as he could, and then thrust
the energy into her, attacking the shields that were keeping him out. She
jerked against him, and her body bowed from the onslaught of power…and it
didn't work.

The walls were still there.
Crap!

Ian. It's not working.
Her
voice was fainter now, weighted with the agony of her approaching death.

No! I'll get this—
His
weapons suddenly burned his arms, a violent warning of a threat.

Ian instantly cut off his
connection to Catherine and called out his weapons as he leapt to his feet. His
flanged mace exploded into his hand as he spun toward the male who had attacked
Catherine in the bar, who was streaking across the graveyard toward them,
moving so fast he was almost a blur. His eyes were glowing green, and his
entire body was carrying a faint green glow.

"You don't get to have
her!" Ian hurled his mace as he charged Flynn. The male didn't even bother
to duck. He just let the mace hit him in the chest, tore it out of his body and
hurled it aside without even breaking stride.

Son of a bitch. Flynn was even
stronger than he'd been in the bar. What the hell was he?

The two males collided with a crash
that shook the very earth, and Flynn careened across the graveyard, thrown
almost a hundred yards by the force of the impact. Ian went down hard, and he grimaced
at the pain as he leapt back to his feet. At least three ribs were cracked, and
his shoulder had been dislocated, but as he watched, Flynn rolled onto his
side, already recovering.

So, this was war, then.

Ian's mind quieted, and he went
into the calm, focused place of battle. His senses zeroed in on the male
struggling to his feet, and he assessed Flynn with the efficient vigilance of a
warrior who had been fighting for more than six hundred years. He surged past
the male's bulk and muscle, looked past the crazed energy flowing off him, and
ignored the green glow that seemed to obscure him almost to the point that Ian
couldn’t see him physically. Ian eliminated all distractions until he could
feel the essence of his enemy and was attuned to every twitch of his muscles.

He was ready.

Flynn moved suddenly, leaping to
his feet to attack, and Ian responded instantly as Flynn hurled a glowing green
disc at him. Ian cut it down with a stroke of his mace as he raced toward Flynn.
He swung hard with the mace, and Flynn blocked the first blow with a move
faster than Ian had seen on anyone except other Order members.

Another stroke, another blow, and
the males were locked in battle, dead even, one man focused and sane, the other
so insane with fury and violence. "Stand down," Ian shouted. "I
don't want to kill you." Ian had one job: to protect the world from rogue
Calydons. This male wasn't a Calydon, so he wasn't Ian's problem—except for the
fact he was trying to kill Catherine. "Back off," he yelled.

But Flynn simply roared a challenge
and unleashed another disc. Ian blocked it with his mace. "Sorry, man, but
I don't have time to be nice." Then he summoned all the energy inside him
that he'd harvested from his ancestors, let it ignite his muscles, and then he
swung his weapon with more force than he'd ever done in his life.

Flynn dropped to the earth with a
thud. For a split second, he didn't move, then he took a shallow shuddering
breath. Alive. Not about to get up and attack again, but alive.

Ian was shocked. Flynn had survived
that? What the hell was he—

Ian.

At Catherine's urgent call Ian
whirled around, Flynn's blood still caked on his mace. She convulsed on the
ground beside Augustus's grave, her body twisting in the final throes of death.
"No!" Denial roared through Ian, and the world seemed to descend into
a black flaming hell as he threw the mace aside and started running toward her.

Watching her die before him, unable
to reach her. Faster. Faster.
Faster.
He felt like he couldn’t get there,
like he was running in quicksand, like he was sinking deeper and deeper in the
mire, his feet like clay, sucking him into the depths. "Catherine!" he
roared.

Ian.
She lifted her hand, a
fragile, desperate gesture of farewell.

"No!" He bellowed with
fury as he pushed harder, ran faster, his body screaming as he gave it everything
he had. "I'm coming!"

Too late.
Her voice was
faint, so faint in his mind.

"No! Don't give up!" He
finally reached her and fell to his knees beside her, pulling her into his
arms. Jesus, her body was ice cold, her lips ashen, her eyes closed. "Catherine,"
he gasped. "Don't. I can heal you—"

I'm not Catherine.

Ian's entire world froze at her
words.
What?

My name is Alice Shaw. Catherine
is my sister.

Ian felt like the earth had been
torn out from under him.
But—

I remember you now. You were
there when I died.

Which time? Which time was you?
Had that woman who'd died at Elijah's hand, that everyone knew was his soul
mate actually been Catherine and not Alice? Was the woman in his arms not his soul
mate? Denial roared through him, fierce raw denial. The woman he was holding
was his. She had to be. But the woman on the mountain had been his
sheva
for certain, and there was no mark on Alice's arm—

A tremor shook Alice's body, and
suddenly nothing mattered but preserving her life. He grabbed her hand, and
pressed it to his chest, trying desperately to open the connection between them
that would allow him to heal her.
Alice. Stay with me—

Too late.
Her fingers
tightened in his ever so slightly. Her eyelids slitted open, and he saw such
pain reflected in them that his heart tore right out of his chest.
Find me,
Ian. Find me when I come back. You're my only chance. If I die one more time,
it's over.