Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade)

by Stephanie Rowe

  As each step took them closer and closer to José, bile built in her throat. Somehow, she forced herself to stay limp, making her body as heavy as she could as he ran. With each step, she let her arms bounce further down his back, allowing her body to slide just a little lower, so subtly he would think it was nothing but gravity at work on an unconscious woman.

  She felt his muscles relax even further as he turned his attention to where he was going, no longer worrying about restraining her. He leapt over a fallen tree trunk with ease, a brutal reminder of just how physically dominating José‘s warriors were. He landed easily, but that slight jarring was just enough to make her slide in his relaxed and slightly sweaty arms, giving her the extra two inches she needed. She moved instantly, slamming her hand between his legs. The camouflage pants he wore gave him no protection as she grabbed his balls and twisted violently, mercilessly attacking the only vulnerable spot on him.

  He howled with pain and stumbled, pitching forward as he grabbed his crotch with both hands. Instantly, she ripped herself out of his arms. She landed hard on the ground, and then lunged to her feet—

  “Bitch!” He grabbed her ankle and jerked hard, yanking her off balance.

  She fell to the ground, and he was on her, his hands around her throat. She gasped, fighting for air as she clawed at his hands, but already, she could feel her mind starting to blacken as he cut off her oxygen. Fear ripped through her, terror at what would happen to her if he rendered her unconscious. She was more scared of being unconscious around José and his warriors than anything else, because the horrors that she had awoken to so many times were more than she could cope with, the stuff that had been haunting her nightmares for so long. Her survival instinct kicked in now, a frantic unthinking defense to save her own life. She kicked and punched violently, fighting him hard now, using every trick she knew to get away, but it was obvious she had no chance. She simply wasn’t as strong as he was, and she was out of practice from so many years away from the jungle.

  He grinned at her, those green eyes hard and cold as he watched her struggle, barely needing to expend any effort to hold her there as his fingers tightened around her throat. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she felt the weight of his body pressing into her, shoving her into the ground, trapping her. No! She screamed her protest in her mind, even as the forest began to spin. Dear God. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought she could come back and win? She turned her head to the side, trying to find an opening in his grip to breathe, but he was applying too much pressure. Weakness pervaded her body, and her hands fell to her side as the oxygen deprivation rendered her useless.

  Hopelessly, she met his gaze, and she knew that the life she had fled from before was nothing compared to what awaited her in punishment for the fact she tried to kill José and then had fled. She knew she couldn’t endure it again, but even as she thought it, she knew she would have to. No matter how weak she became, José would never push her to the point that she died, because then all the fun would end.

  Weakly, she grabbed Luther’s wrist, trying one last time to escape, a useless gesture borne from the instinct to survive. But it was no use. She was his once again—

  Just as her eyes started to close, she saw the flash of a slick, three-pointed steel weapon slam into Luther’s chest. His eyes widened, and his hands grabbed at what looked like a giant fork lodged in his body. He released her with one hand to yank it free, but then another identical weapon slammed into the side of his head. He flew back, literally lifted off her and flung backwards by the force of the blow.

  Rhiannon gasped, sucking air back into her lungs as she rolled onto her side, coughing and clutching her neck. She knew she should get up and run, and she tried to pull herself to her knees, but the world began to spin again. She had no choice but to bow her head, and close her eyes, digging her fingers into the earth as she fought not to collapse.

  She heard footsteps racing toward her, and fear drove her muscles to react. She lurched forward, trying to stand up. She made it halfway up, and then fell, lurching forward—

  Strong hands caught her, keeping her on her feet. She jerked her gaze up, and she found herself staring into the eyes of the Calydon she’d stabbed only moments before encountering Luther. She instinctively reached for her hip, but her dagger was gone. Oh, God—

  He gripped her shoulders more tightly. “My name is Zach Roderick. I’m not going to hurt you.” He jerked his head toward the Calydon sprawled on the ground behind her. “I’m not one of those pieces of shit,” he said. “I’m not even from this damned jungle. I just need to save my friend and get the hell home.” His gaze drifted down to her neck, and she knew there would be dark bruises forming. His mouth thinned, and his voice dropped about two octaves, a dangerous, lethal tone that sent shivers down her spine. “And apparently, I need to save you as well.”

  He didn’t have a regional accent, none of the intonations of a man who had made this jungle his home, and his eyes… Now that she could see them up close, she could see that his eyes were alive with expression, not the merciless pits of violence she was used to. Then she stiffened. What was she thinking? He was a Calydon. Did she need to know more? “I don’t need saving,” she snapped as she pushed back from him, swaying slightly as she tried to find her balance. Her head was pounding, her muscles shaking violently, and her neck hurt terribly, but she was not going to lean on him, or anyone else.

  “No?” He cocked an eyebrow and brushed the tip of his finger over her throat. His touch was light, almost gentle, and for a split second, she was too shocked to pull away. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and go utterly still, absorbing the feel of his hand on her throat. It almost felt as though he were taking away the pain, and soothing the damage. His touch felt kind. Tears suddenly burned in her eyes, emotion welling up from that place inside her that she worked so hard to keep locked tightly up.

  She quickly pulled back, putting her hand over her neck as if that simple gesture would protect her from him. God, no, she couldn’t make that mistake again. She couldn’t trust a man, and never a Calydon. “No,” she whispered. “Never touch me.”

  His forehead furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “I need to go.” She realized suddenly that she wasn’t holding her crossbow either, and her quiver was no longer strapped over her back, which meant she was completely unarmed.

  She whirled away from her rescuer, quickly scanning the woods around them. None of her weapons were there. “Oh, no,” she whispered, panic starting to build as she began to retrace their steps. The branches were cracked and broken from their battle, and she hurried back along the path they’d left.

  “Looking for this?”

  She whirled around to see her rescuer holding up her cache. In his right hand were her dagger and her crossbow, and in his left was her quiver, the strap broken. She went still, horrified. He was taunting her with her weapons, knowing that she would never be able to take them away from him.

  He shook his head in apparent amazement. “You really think I’m not going to give these to you?” He tossed them gently at her feet. First the dagger, which she lunged for and grabbed instantly. His expression was inscrutable as he lobbed the crossbow at her feet, followed by the quiver.

  She retrieved them, scooting backwards into the cover of the trees while she armed herself. It wasn’t until she had an arrow set in place that she finally took a breath.

  Zach hadn’t moved, and he hadn’t tried to come after her. He just set his hands on his hips, watching her. “My friend is dying,” he said quietly. “I need to save him. That’s why I’m here. I’m not one of the bad guys.”

  Rhiannon heard the desperation in his words, and on some level, they resonated as true. He’d saved her from one of José‘s warriors and even given her back her weapons. No one working for José would have done either one of those things. But at the same time, she didn’t understand who he was or what
a Calydon was doing in this jungle if he wasn’t connected to José.

  But still, he had saved her when she couldn’t save herself. She wasn’t foolish enough not to understand how significant that was. There would be others after her. Many others. If she fled the rain forest, José would hunt her down. Maybe she would evade him, and maybe she wouldn’t. But she would never be able to stop looking over her shoulder, unless she ended it now. The last ten minutes had made it abundantly clear that she couldn’t do it by herself, but with Zach by her side, maybe she had a chance. “What do you want?”

  Zach clasped his hands over his head, as if he were trying to give the impression that he was harmless…as if she would ever believe that. He studied her for a moment, as if he were contemplating how much truth to give her.

  She waited for him to decide, carefully studying his features so she could learn them well enough to determine what he wasn’t telling her. She’d learned to protect herself by watching the facial expressions of José and the others, and figuring out when they were lying and when she could believe them.

  He finally met her gaze, his dark brown eyes were unabashedly honest. “I’m a member of the Order of the Blade,” he said, pausing as if that was something she was supposed to know.

  She shook her head and jerked her chin at him to continue. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the phrase sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  One eyebrow went up, as if he were surprised she didn’t know. “The Order of the Blade was founded several thousand years ago to protect innocents from rogue Calydons. That’s my sworn oath.”

  She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “There are Calydons that protect people?” She remembered now hearing rumors about the Order, but she’d always dismissed them as stories started by fan girls who wanted a bad boy in their beds and had created this fantasy as a way to glorify them.

  “Yeah, and we’re good at it.” He still hadn’t looked away, openly inviting her to see the truth in his eyes. “Thano Savakis is on my team, and he went rogue.”

  She stiffened at the words and looked over her shoulder. A rogue? “Is he nearby?”

  “He’s unconscious. He’s not coming after anyone right now.”

  There was an edge to his voice that drew her attention, and she looked at him again. This time, there was no mistaking the pain in his eyes. Guilt. Determination. He cared, she realized. He cared about this friend of his. Suddenly, her throat tightened, and she knew she was losing her mind, seeing emotions in the eyes of a Calydon just because she was so desperate for help. “So?” she challenged, her defensiveness making her voice harsher than she’d intended.

  Zach didn’t seem bothered. “Apparently, there’s a hot shit fire god who has some sort of implement that can bring sanity back to a rogue. I want it. I need it. Thano needs it.”

  She stared at him, his words sinking in. He was talking about José. He wanted José‘s staff. He wanted to track down José and steal from him, in order to save his own teammate that he so clearly cared about.

  There was no doubt about his loyalty to Thano. It was etched in the lines on his face, and his words were heavy with urgency and desperation. He was a man who would fight to the death to save his teammate, which meant he would fight to the death to get to José. She knew he would. She could see it in his expression. “Do you know where this fire god is right now?” she asked. Fire god, though? She knew José could do a lot of stuff with fire, but he was a Calydon, not some all-powerful god. Rumors had turned him into more of a monster than he already was.

  Zach’s expression darkened with anger he didn’t bother to hide. “The intel I got on him was crap. I’m on my own to find this piece of shit and save Thano.” He surveyed her, taking in her outfit, but at the same time, she felt heat burning on her flesh as he studied her. She didn’t like it when men studied her so intently anymore. She wanted them to not notice her.

  But before she could warn him off, his gaze went back to her face. “You look like you know your way around this jungle. As I said earlier, I’ll hire you to be my guide. I’ll pay you well, and—” he studied her speculatively, his gaze settling on her bruised throat and the dangling strap of her broken quiver, which was still lying on the ground by her ankle. “I’ll keep you alive and safe while you’re working for me.”

  Hope leapt within her. Was this really possible? She was being handed an armed escort who would stay with her right until the very end? As soon as she asked the question, the fragile hope faded again. It was impossible. Coincidences like this didn’t happen. How did she know he wasn’t working for José, and figured it would be easier to deliver her if she happily agreed to follow him through the jungle? She couldn’t trust him.

  But then again, if he was telling the truth, she needed him. Desperately. She wasn’t a fool. She’d had limitations before, and there were even more now.

  Zach shifted restlessly. “I don’t have a lot of time,” he said, an edge of impatience cutting through his tone. “Yes or no?”

  God, she wanted to say yes, but she was terrified of being wrong, of trusting the wrong man again. “Prove it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Prove it? Which part?”

  “That I can trust you.”

  “Prove that you can trust me?” He studied her for a long moment. “You’re a warrior,” he said thoughtfully. “Your instincts should tell you what you need to know.”

  Yes, they should. But she had long ago lost faith in them. Right now, when she looked at this man, all she could see was a hero who had saved her, and that made her want to fall down to her knees and cry in exhaustion, turning herself over to him. The urge was so great that it terrified her. She knew that she was so desperate for hope that she could very possibly see good where there wasn’t any, just how a person dying of thirst in the desert would see a mirage. She shook her head wordlessly. “I can’t,” she said.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Trust my instincts.”

  Understanding flared in his dark eyes, and for a moment he didn’t move. Then he slowly walked over to her, and he went down on one knee just as she started to tense at his proximity. “My sister and her two children were murdered by a rogue Calydon,” he said quietly, his gaze burning into hers. “On that day, as I stood over their broken bodies, the ones I had failed to protect, I made them a promise.” His voice was hard, so steely that it almost broke with the tension. “I swore on their souls that I would spend the rest of my life fighting that battle and protecting innocents like them, to save the lives of all those to make up for the ones I didn’t protect.”

  Her throat tightened at the deep anguish on his face, and instinctively, she reached out to touch him, wanting to take away his pain as he had hers. Her fingers brushed his hair, a soft, damp silkiness that felt so good that she jerked her hand back, horrified that she’d touched him on her own.

  He didn’t react outwardly, but his sharp eyes softened at her fearful reaction. “I swear on their souls that I’m telling the truth,” he said softly, as if he could lessen her fear simply by gentling his voice. And weirdly, it worked. His voice was kind and soothing, and she felt it wrap around her like a warm embrace.

  He held out his hand to hers, as if offering to show her that nothing bad would happen if she touched him. “I swear on my family’s souls that I’m telling the truth about Thano, the fire god, and my promise to take you under my protection until this is over, if you’ll help me find him.”

  She felt the depth of his promise in every cell of her body, and chills ran over her skin. She didn’t know how this Calydon had become so humane, but he had. There was no doubt about his pain, and his commitment to avenge his family’s murder. Silently, she nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

  He raised his brows. “Is that a ‘yes, oh wondrous Zach, it would be my great honor to escort a mighty warrior such as yourself into the hell that no one can survive?’”

  A tiny, almost imperceptible laugh slipped fr
ee. “It’s a ‘yes, I’ll be your guide,’” she said. “I don’t know about the rest of it.”

  He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “You know the way to the fire god?”

  The thought of heading toward José made her tense, and she realized suddenly that at some point she had lowered her bow to her side, forgetting to stay armed. Zach had made her forget her fear, even for a brief moment. For that, she might indeed call him wondrous. But for now… “Yes, I know the way. I’ll take you.” She held out her hand to stall him as he started to get up. “Say it again. Your promise that you’ll protect me. Promise that you’ll never, ever use force or mind control against me. Swear it on your sister’s soul.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, something so dark and predatory that she took a step back. “Is that what’s been done to you?” he asked in a voice so low she could barely hear it. “Is that why you’re so scared?”

  Chapter 9

  Rhiannon stiffened at Zach’s question, unsettled by how intense his gaze was, as if he could see right through her walls to the nightmares she tried so hard not to think about anymore. She lifted her chin, trying to make him see her as the warrior she once was, not the woman who was afraid to sleep at night. “Swear on your sister’s soul,” she repeated. “Swear that you’ll never hurt me or try to control me.”

  This time, Zach didn’t simply offer his hand and wait for her to accept, which, of course, she never would. This time, he took her hand himself, and before she could protest, he laid it over his heart, over the wound she’d caused that was already healing. He flattened her palm over his chest, and then placed his hand over hers, sandwiching her fingers between his hand and his heart.