Immortal Hope (38 page)

Tane shook his head. “Nay. I deserve whatever punishment Merrick chooses.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tane. The two of you are friends. Don’t let me ruin that. Go, if you must, I’ll wait here for him.” She understood too well what would happen if Merrick learned the truth of Tane’s errors tonight. His body already bore payment enough for those mistakes. If the SUV’s windshield didn’t resemble confetti, she’d drive them both back to the temple and make excuses for her absence. Tane hadn’t harmed her directly. He didn’t deserve Merrick’s inevitable wrath.

Inclining his head toward the gathered figures, Tane made his awareness of further possible danger evident. “I vowed to protect you. I will not dishonor that oath. I will stay.” He pulled the phone from his hip pocket and flipped it open to punch a solitary button before he passed it to her.

Anne lifted it to her ear in time to hear the first ring. It rang no further.

“What have you done with her?” Merrick’s voice boomed through the receiver, full of the fury of a thousand men.

She cringed, even as emotion filled her to capacity and she whispered, “It’s me.”

“Anne?” The relief that flooded through the line turned her heart over. A heartbeat passed, a long moment that hung between them as he exhaled. God, if only she could reach through the line and touch him. She closed her eyes, imagining his face.

In a hoarse voice he asked, “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“In the city. Down by the haunted houses.” She glanced around, searching for a street sign. Finding a green marker, she added, “Near Twelfth Street.”

“Are you safe?”

Her glance settled on Tane, the vision of how he’d fought to keep her safe rising once more. Slowly, she nodded. “I am.”

“Stay there, damsel. I will arrive in a few minutes.” With that, the line went dead.

Anne passed the phone back to Tane and pulled the mildewed blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Don’t tell him, Tane. I care too much to see him hurt.”

He bowed his head, but not before she noticed the fine sheen of tears glimmering in his eyes. “I told you I would carry your secrets to my grave.”

*   *   *

Merrick yanked a sweatshirt over his head and hastily unfastened his sword, exchanging it for a less noticeable dagger. “She is in Kansas City.”

Behind him, Farran and Caradoc sheathed their swords. For an hour, they had turned the temple upside down, rousting men from beds, demanding to inspect their chambers. Each failure had twisted Merrick’s insides so tight, he felt as if he had been turned inside out. Now the relief that flooded through him left him light-headed, a staggering effect he had not imagined could be possible.

Caradoc backed through the doorway. “I will tell the others they may cease their searching and inform Mikhail.”

“I will go with you, Merrick.” Farran did not ask. He grabbed at the jacket hanging on Merrick’s wall and stuffed his arms in.

Mayhap a good thing, for Merrick did not trust himself should Tane still be with her. He had known, when Mikhail demanded the men step forth and present their blades, that the sword belonged to the missing man—his trusted brother. Only he had no idea where Tane might have imprisoned her. Had she not phoned, they could have searched for days before any one of them thought to scour the city.

Reason contradicted his fierce desire to gut his brother. In his heart, Merrick knew Tane would never steal away a seraph if the darkness did not drive him to insanity. Yet he could not excuse the action. Not when others suffered equally and still maintained control somewhat.

He rushed through the door without a word, Farran on his heels. At the SUV, Farran nudged him out of the way to claim the driver’s side. “You are of no mind to drive.”

Nay, he was not. He shook as if he had walked through a yard of ghosts. His thoughts were so jumbled he could not begin to speak, not the least of which was the realization he loved Anne. Loved her so deeply the idea of losing her left him weak. Powerless.

Lost.

He climbed into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door. Farran gunned the truck in reverse, and as they sped down the side streets, Merrick could only stare at the landscape’s passing blur.

The miles passed in anguished minutes, each feeling more like hours. It seemed they would never reach her, and he could not shake the deeper fear that when they arrived she would be gone again. That Tane would whisk her away, and Merrick would never again see her beautiful face, or feel the tenderness of her touch.

When the orange glow of homeless fires lit the overhanging bridges, Merrick grabbed at the door handle. He scanned the sparsely gathered people, his heart lodged firmly in his throat. Everything inside him lit up bright and burning as his eyes found long auburn hair.

Anne.

He flung the door open before the SUV stopped, his boots hitting the pavement as Farran slammed the gear into park. Merrick willed himself to walk, not run, but as he approached, and Anne looked up at him, he struck a jog. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the glimmer tugging fierce on his heart.

Halfway across the pavement, he spied Tane. ’Twas all it took to bring out the centuries-old warrior within him. As time ground to a halt, he was twenty-three and stood before the vile earl who dared to force himself on Merrick’s mother as a payment for rents she could ill afford.

Logic fled. In one mighty blow, he drove a fist into Tane’s jaw. The thick bone gave with an unmistakable
crack.
Another fist doubled the younger knight over, and Merrick wasted no time in crushing his nose.

Dimly, he heard Anne’s cry, “Merrick, stop!”

Yet he could no more stop the force of his rage than he could reverse the damage Azazel had done to his soul. He grabbed Tane by the shirt, mindless of the blood that poured from his nose, and shoved him back against a crumbling warehouse wall to slam another fist into his face.

Strong arms caught Merrick from behind. He twisted, struggling to break free, but the more he fought, the more crushing the embrace became.

“Enough!”

Farran’s bellow cut through Merrick’s blind fury. With a fierce jerk, Farran hauled him away from Tane. Merrick watched the traitor knight crumple to the ground where he made no attempt to rise.

Farran spun Merrick around and gave him a shove in Anne’s direction. “See to the lady. I will deal with Tane.”

Tears trickled down Anne’s face, each salty drop piercing through Merrick like a knife. For a moment, he knew not what to do. The sight of her unexpected sorrow left him speechless. Her sniffle, however, turned his heart with such force, he winced. God’s teeth, he had seen countless women mourn, yet not one had ever reached in and wound such a fierce fist around his core.

His fury dissipated as he dropped to his knees before her. With a sob, Anne flung herself into his embrace. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her dampened cheek pressed to his chest. Merrick gathered her close. “Anne,” he murmured against her hair.

She turned dampened eyes to him, and he became lost in her watery gaze, wondering how this bossy little woman had ever worked her way into his heart. He dipped his head, touched his lips to hers. Soft and warm, her mouth parted beneath his, and she melted into his arms. The salty flavor of her tears reminded him she was not always brave, that behind the grand facade and stubborn will she was feminine and vulnerable. Mayhap as vulnerable as he.

When she kissed him back, his blood warmed. The chill of November night disappeared, the gathered homeless faded from his awareness. Slow, languid strokes of her tongue erased all sense of time and place, and he tangled a hand through her long hair. Her perfume infused his thoughts, awakening a storm of desire. His shaft stirred against his thigh.

On a shaky breath, Merrick eased the kiss to a lingering close. He loosed her hair, framed her face between his hands. His gaze searched hers. “Did he hurt you?”

Anne shook her head. She wound her arms around his waist and burrowed deep against his chest. Her tremble shook through his limbs, and he realized for the first time that she wore naught but her nightclothes beneath the raggedy blanket. Leaning out of her embrace, he tugged his sweatshirt over his head and pressed it into her hands.

She pulled the heavy garment on. “Take me home?”

“Aye.” He could think of naught he wanted more.

At his side, Farran ushered Tane to the rear of the SUV. A cloth pressed to his nose, Tane walked with his head bowed. His posture lacked resistance, and Merrick choked down another rush of anger. It would do no good to pound him with his fists now—to give in to the urge would only stain Merrick’s honor. Tane had suffered at his hands. What remained of his future would be price enough to pay.

Merrick swept Anne into his arms and carried her to the vehicle. He crawled in the middle seat beside her, ignoring Tane. With Anne tucked against his side, he fell into silence and the twenty-minute trip to the temple passed quickly.

There, however, Merrick’s simple plans of disappearing with Anne crumbled around him. Caradoc and Lucan waited on the doorstep. They swamped the SUV, determined to drag Tane inside and force Merrick to join them in front of Mikhail.

“Merrick, you must make your wishes known,” Lucan insisted. “He should be removed from the Order, immediately.”

“Mikhail will want your explanation of what happened,” Caradoc echoed.

It took all of Merrick’s patience, and then some, to help Anne out of the SUV without flogging them. Farran, however, came to his rescue as Merrick collected Anne into his arms.

“Cease,” he ground out evenly. “Tane can be dealt with on the morrow. ’Tis late. Too late for words. Take our brother to Mikhail and see that he is confined for the night.” He nudged Tane into Caradoc’s grasp and shoved through the gathering crowd to the door.

Merrick followed in his wake, carrying a dozing Anne up the stairs into her rooms where he deposited her gently on her bed. She snuggled into the pillows and gifted him with her first smile of the evening. Though it trembled at the corners of her mouth, he could think of naught more beautiful.

“Sleep, my sweet,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her good night.

She shook her head and flattened her hand against his chest. “I was so scared when you left. Then you came back, and you were okay. I wanted to talk to you … Then Tane…” She trailed off, shuddering. “Make love to me. My heart craves you so.”

A feeling of tenderness unlike any he had ever known overcame Merrick. It went beyond the pleasantry of knowing she worried for him, surpassed the rise of desire that accompanied her simple words. It swamped through his veins, thickened his tongue, and closed his throat. He stepped back from the bed to shed his clothes. At the same time, she shimmied out of her robe and gown. She leaned over and clicked off the lamp.

The light of the moon shone through her window, bathing her skin with silver. Slender fingers beckoned him into the bed, and Merrick’s entire body trembled with emotion. Love her. Saints’ toes, he loved her beyond all reason. If she were but his, he would tell her until he exhausted all the words. But admitting such would only make things more difficult when she met her intended, and so he choked down the rising confession and buried it deep within his heart.

He lowered himself into the bed, kneeling between her parted legs. Bending forward, he kissed her with all the pent-up feeling he felt for her, and slowly sank into her silken embrace. Her arms came around his neck, her fingers teased through his hair. In a slow, unhurried manner, he kissed her lips, her eyes, her throat. His hands explored her curves, traced the soft contours of her body, and though he knew them all by heart, he etched them into his mind with the thoroughness of a blind man’s touch. The whisper of her breath against his skin seared into his memory, her kisses more sweet, more tantalizing, than any sugar treat.

*   *   *

Anne luxuriated in Merrick’s mesmerizing warmth. The power of his hands amazed her. Moments earlier, she’d watched him shatter a man’s face. Now he caressed her body with such tenderness she had difficulty believing the two men were the same. Gentle fingers massaged her breasts, stirred the warmth that flowed in her veins down into her belly where it spread and fanned lower. They cupped and lifted, kneaded and stroked, until every nerve ending above her waist stood at attention and begged for the feel of his mouth.

Something was different tonight. Between her legs, the hard evidence of his desire pressed into her moistened flesh, but Merrick showed no signs of impatience. Unlike the other times they’d loved, he seemed content to draw their joining out indefinitely. This was somehow richer, more sonorous. As if each kiss, each touch, each brush of his skin against hers spilled a part of him into her.

And she responded with the same deep feeling he aroused, opening herself completely to the man who had broken oaths to keep her at his side.

When at last he dusted his mouth down her neck and closed his lips around her nipple, she sucked in a sharp breath and arched into his arms. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head to the side. Her fingers found his hair, and she hung on while sensations thrummed through her. Oh the idea of being his eternally—how tempting it was to tell him. To swear this oath the knights referred to and never have to leave his side.

But in the back of her mind, she knew it was only a dream. While this pleasure defied her darkest fantasies, it wouldn’t last. She would pledge herself to Merrick, and he would forfeit his life. The only future they had would be if he’d leave the temple and come with her. Yet she was too weary to broach the subject of leaving with him tonight, too tangled up in bliss to instigate a fight. Later … Tomorrow when he—

Merrick took her nipple between his teeth and nipped hard. A burst of pleasure chased away the disparaging thoughts of their polarized circumstances. She cried out, her fingers tightening against his scalp. But the swirl of his tongue soothed the painful pinch and heat washed across her skin.

His hand slipped between their bodies, swept across her abdomen then lower. He cupped her sensitive feminine flesh, pressing fingertips to her moistened folds. She lifted her hips into his palm as need burned. Obliging her silent demand, Merrick slid a finger inside until the base of his palm pressed against her sensitive nub. Anne gasped at the taunting friction. She wriggled her hips, chasing the surge of ecstasy.