by Mina Carter
He went cold when he saw the thin silver lines on her arm. It was a Calydon brand, but it wasn't his machete. It was the handle of Thano's weapon on her arm. "Jesus," he whispered, stunned. But there was no doubt. His machete was much wider and plain, but Thano's halberd was long and thin, and the end had a curve on it. She'd called Thano's weapon, which was one of the stages of the sheva bond, and now his mark was on her arm. Much of his weapon was showing, more than Ryland would have expected would come from a single stage. How many had they done?
"What is it?" she asked.
"Thano's weapon." Black rage began to course through him, fierce, throbbing rage. "There are five stages to the bond between a Calydon and his mate." He locked his hand around her arm, his body shaking in response to the sight of another man's mark on her skin. "Each time a stage is complete, a part of the Calydon's brand appears on her arm."
She stared at him. "But I'm not his mate."
Ryland's head was pounding so hard he couldn't even think. Thano's brand. On her arm. Blood-bonded to another male. Catherine. With another male.
With a roar of outrage, he tore himself away from her and backed toward the wall. "You're Thano's woman." Jesus. Not his. Not his.
Catherine scrambled to her feet. "I'm not Thano's!"
"No, this is good, this is good." He fought against the rage and fury screaming through him. "The sheva bond is a trap. It makes me vulnerable to you. You're not mine. You can't trap me." He hit the wall and pressed his back against it. "You can't trap me." But Jesus, he wanted her. He fucking wanted her. This screamed wrongness. She was his. His.
"I'm not his!" She walked toward him, and he held up his hand to block her.
"No," he snarled. "Don't come near me. Don't you get it? If we were soul mates, you wouldn't be able to resist me. I could bind you to me, just as you would bind me to you. You want that?"
She stopped, her eyes wide. "No," she whispered. "God, no."
"Yeah, so, yeah, so it's good. We aren't going to trap each other." He closed his eyes, pressing his head back into the cold rock, fighting against the blackness rushing through him. Dark anger. Dark rage. The need to tear himself off that rock, attack Catherine, and make love to her until every inch of her soul was stained with his aura, until she was so much a part of him that no one would ever be able to claim her. Ever. "I can't touch you," he whispered. "You belong to another man."
"No." Her voice was so bitter and strident that he opened his eyes. Catherine's hands were fisted by her side, and her jaw was jutted out. "I will never belong to another man. Not Simon. Not Thano." Her eyes glittered. "Not you." Then she held out her arm and stared at it.
As Ryland watched, a black shadow crept down her arm from her elbow. It flooded her pale flesh with darkness, obscuring Thano's mark and the scars from Simon, until there was nothing but ash-gray smears on her arms.
Fury continued to vibrate through Ryland, and he wanted to tear the marks from her skin, ripping them out of her very being. Just because she'd hidden them didn't mean they were gone. She dropped her hand and looked at Ryland. "All I want is to save my daughter," she said.
He gritted his jaw. "All I want is to find Dante."
She nodded. "Don't touch me again."
"No chance."
For a long moment, their gazes met, and Ryland felt something inside him crack as he stared into her blue eyes. A longing that was so foreign he didn't even understand what it was he wanted.
"You're my only hope," she said finally.
A need to protect vibrated through Ryland, a sense of purpose. This is what he was born for: protecting the angel meant to save him. He nodded. "I accept the responsibility."
She took a deep breath. "We save my daughter first. Then Dante."
Ryland shook his head. "Dante first."
Catherine blinked. "But once we find Dante, you'll have no reason to help me. You—"
"—were born to protect you," he finished. "I would burn in hell before I abandoned an angel. An angel saved my life, and I transfer that loyalty to every angel I meet. Dante first, then your daughter." His eyes flashed. "You can trust me."
For a long moment, she stared at him, then she shook her head. "No, I can't."
He swore, but he got it. After her story about Simon, he understood. Too many broken promises. The reason he understood was because he'd been equally betrayed by the people who had created him. To be betrayed by someone who you're supposed to be able to trust is the worst fucking hell of all.
He studied her, and then he knew the answer. "You're our guardian angel," he said. "You can't abandon Dante. It's against who you are." Satisfied, he levered himself off the wall. Catherine would not abandon Dante, because she was bound to the Order as their guardian angel, even if she didn't admit it yet. "Lucy first, then Dante." His ribs burned, and Ryland looked down at his chest. The turquoise had taken the beast's lower torso.
Catherine's gaze followed his and she grimaced. "How much time?"
"Plenty." But even as he reached for his boots to finish getting dressed, his heart started pounding. He had no idea how much time he had, but he suspected it wasn't much. Once Desdria and the Dark Lord confirmed his presence in their realm, he would have minutes, maybe seconds, before they would descend.
He shot a glance over at Catherine as she grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. As the smooth expanse of her upper body disappeared beneath the fabric, deep regret coursed through him...immediately followed by the sharp stab of fear. Real fear. The kind of fear that a warrior never, ever wanted to feel.
Because he knew that even though she carried Thano's mark, it didn't matter.
She was his, and that meant that losing her would destroy him...unless he found a way to break them apart. And soon.
* * *
Catherine's forearms were burning as she pulled on her jeans. It almost felt as if more lines were being drawn on her arms. Another male binding her? First Simon, and now Thano, who she barely even knew? Fear pounded at her as Ryland strode over to the hole in the wall where he'd originally retrieved the glowing rock. The stone that she'd drained was nothing but a faint whisper now, and she could feel the tension rising within her at the lack of light available to sustain her.
He felt his way over the stone wall, his hands broad as he palmed the surface. As he searched, the sheer force of his power seemed to fill their hideaway. His shoulders seemed to be even larger than they had been before, his very breadth seeming to expand. Ryland was such raw potency that it made her heart skip with longing. She wanted to walk over there and offer herself into his safekeeping. Accept his vow that he would keep her safe. Trust that he would be there for her.
And that realization terrified her.
Ryland was everything she shouldn't trust. He was steeped in death and violence, a creature of the nether-realm who was, even now, in the process of falling back under the control of the very creatures who had worked with Simon to steal her child and force her to murder.
But even as she thought it, she found herself craving Ryland's mark on her arms, wanting that silver brand to show a machete, to lock them together for eternity. "Can a Calydon hurt his soul mate?" She blurted the question accidentally, and her cheeks immediately flamed.
Ryland's shoulders stiffened, and he froze for a split second, not turning around. "No," he said. "Don't worry. Thano won't hurt you."
"What about you? What if you bonded with a woman?"
Slowly, he turned to face her, his face dark and turbulent. "Why are you asking about me?" he asked softly, dangerously.
Her heart started to pound. Why was she asking about him? Because if his answer was yes, if the bond would protect him from hurting her and she was his sheva, then she would be able to trust him again. She would be able to trust someone. "If you were enslaved again, would your bond with your sheva trump anything that Desdria and the Dark Lord wanted you to do?"
For a long moment, Ryland didn't move. Then he rubbed his hand over his wrist, as if he c
ould feel the cuffs on his arms. Finally, he said simply, "I don't know."
"Why don't you know?" She walked over to him, urgency driving her. He was so tall, drawing his shoulders back as she approached, as if he was trying to put up a wall between them. She was so tired of being afraid, of being alone, of not being able to trust. "Haven't Calydons been bonding with their mates for thousands of years? Surely some of them have been pushed to the limit, right? If we completed the bond, then what?"
"We will not complete the bond," he said, going utterly still as she neared him. "But when a Calydon completes that bond, he is destined to go rogue and destroy all that they care about, including any innocents who are in the way. No one will be able to stop him, except for his own soul mate. She will kill him, and then kill herself because she is so distraught over killing the one man she loves." The comment ended in silence, and the walls seemed to throb with the doom he had predicted. His story was the same as the last time he'd spoken of it.
"But he won't hurt his sheva?" she urged. "He will destroy everything else, but not her?"
Ryland's face suddenly seemed to soften, and he trailed his hand down her jaw, a touch so tender and delicate that it seemed impossible for a man of his size to have done it. "No, Cat. A Calydon will never, ever hurt his mate. Even in the rogue state."
Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of there being a man she could trust so completely.
Ryland's hands went to her shoulders, and he pulled her against him, so her back was leaning against his chest. "Do not be fooled, angel," he whispered softly. "When a Calydon goes rogue from the sheva bond, he will destroy everything either of them care about. For you, that means your daughter. For me, that means Dante. For Thano...hell. I have no idea what it would be for him. He won't kill you, or even harm one hair on your beautiful body, but Thano killing your daughter will eviscerate your heart in a way that your own death could never do. That is what he would do if you completed the bond with him."
Catherine leaned her head back against his chest, feeling the heat of his body thrumming through her. She closed her eyes against the visions trying to swell in her mind. Of Ryland killing her daughter. "I don't believe you would hurt her," she said finally. "Even if we bonded, and you went rogue."
"You're terrified I will hurt you, but you're so sure I would protect your daughter?" He put his hands on her upper arms, his grip a seduction that seemed to awaken a deep, pulsing yearning for him.
He was right. That didn't make sense. How could she trust him with her daughter's life, but not hers? But even as she thought it, she simply couldn't see him hurting Lucy. Even rogue. Even with cuffs on.
"I have killed children before." His tone was dead. Bitter. Brutal. "Many children. Children destined for great things. Children destined to be the force that could bring down the nether-realm."
She twisted in his arms, staring into his dark eyes. They were turbulent storms of anguish, haunted by the beings he'd taken. So much death. So much darkness. So much brutality. The creature was stirring within him now. She could sense the power amassing within him. Merciless, ruthless death. "No," she said, laying her hands on either side of his face. "Leave Ryland alone," she said to the beast within him. "Let him be the man he is destined to be."
Ryland locked his hands around her wrists, his grip tight. Too tight. "Don't wake it up," he rasped, but his voice was already rough, a growl that seemed to crawl beneath her skin and claw at her soul.
She couldn't stop. She could feel the tormented souls within him calling to her, death reaching out for a kindred spirit. The creature within seemed to fixate on her. She felt herself falling into its spell, offering it her own power. It reached for her, dark blackness mixing with her aura, with the death eating away at her soul. She saw its eyes in Ryland's, twin spots of glowing crimson light staring at her, beckoning her. Death to death. Two powers. United. So powerful. The connection between them seemed to rise, igniting a need within her. A need to take. A need to consume. A need to harvest more. To thrust death into the world. To inflict the end of life on others. "Yes," she whispered, pressing her body against him. "Yes," she repeated, her voice breathless.
Ryland's mouth was a breath from hers, his breath so hot it felt like fire against her lips. "No," he growled. "Not like this."
Something pricked her hips where Ryland was holding her. She jumped, the pain jerking her back to the present. Ryland swore at the same instant and thrust her back away from him. Less than a yard apart, they both froze, the air thick with the need crawling between them.
"My hands," Ryland said.
She looked down. Silver claws were protruding from his fingertips. Nearly an inch long already, they were sharp and curved, with hooks on the end for tearing out flesh. "Your dragon called to me," she whispered, almost afraid to speak, as if it could hear her. Her skin felt like it was stained, her soul poisoned, from that brush with his monster. She'd never felt anything like that, anything so malevolent. It had been alive, a pulsing, seething malignancy tethering itself to her. It had been trying to poison her mind and corrupt her soul, binding her to it for a destiny so malevolent it sent chills reverberating all the way to her core. "It called to my darkness. It tried to take me." And it almost had.
"It wasn't my beast that was calling you." Ryland's voice was harsh, his breath rasping. "It was Desdria."
Chapter Thirteen
THE MOMENT HE said Desdria's name, Ryland heard the bone-chilling cackle he'd heard so many times in his life, in his nightmares, in his memories. He went still, frozen by the vileness seething through him, by the low commands whispered in his mind. Come to my throne, slave. Return to your duty.
The image of the tall, black throne sprang into his mind. The charred flesh and bones woven together by human hair, the stench of rot, the stain of blood spreading out in a carpet of doom. Sitting on it, ensconced on her podium of power, was the woman, the creature, the she-demon he abhorred. Her black cloak in tatters, her skin a flawless porcelain, her lips deep red like the carpet of blood below her, her eyes hidden behind the shadows that never left her face. His master. His creator. But not his mother. Never his mother.
She turned her head, and he felt her gaze blistering into him. His chest began to burn, his wrists and ankles were on fire. Sharp pains were piercing his head. Now. Her command vibrated through him, and he took a step, then another, and then he was sprinting toward her—
"Ryland!" Catherine's voice broke through the spell.
Sudden pain assaulted him, and he went down, gasping in agony as it drilled through his body. The image of Desdria vanished from his mind, his claws retreated, and his body became his own again. He saw Catherine kneeling in front of him. "Cat?" he rasped, reaching out for her. She couldn't be real.
She caught his hands, holding them against her chest. Real. She was real.
"Ryland." A smile broke out over her face, a brilliant smile of relief that seemed to reach inside his body and rip him free of the last grasp of Desdria. "I didn't think you were ever going to hear me," she said.
"Cat." He pulled her over to him and buried his face in her hair. He basked in its silkiness, in the warmth of her body, and in the gentleness of her touch as she stroked his head. She was real. She was his angel. Goodness. Not evil. Not death. Not trying to control him. His heart was pounding, sweat streaming down his back, his breath rasping in his chest. He felt like he'd just been in a twelve-hour battle for his own life and had barely survived to fight again.
"It's okay, Ry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "She's not here."
"She is here." He pulled back enough to see her face. Her blue eyes were so clear and radiant, her skin pure and soft. He needed her goodness. He needed that gift. He needed her. He needed to make love to her until she wiped out all of that taint. His grip tightened on her hair, and he pulled her closer until her mouth was a fraction of an inch from his. "I need you," he said.
"I know." She framed his face
and leaned forward, her lips brushing against his.
For a moment, Ryland could do nothing else but absorb the beauty of her kiss. Her lips were so soft and tender, blessing him with the kindness and light that he needed so badly. His entire soul burned with the need for her, for more, for— "Shit." He broke the kiss, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "You're Thano's woman. I can't do this."
"I'm not—"
"Look." He gestured to her arm, where more than half of the halberd was now drawn, no longer hidden by the shroud she'd pulled over it before. He stared at it in shock. "I don't understand," he said. "There's so much of the brand already drawn on your arm, that it has to be more than half of the stages already. But you've only done the one stage with him, when you called his weapon." He looked at her. "Unless there are other stages that you did with him? Did you tell each other your darkest secrets? Did you or he risk death to save one another? The blood bond?" No, he knew that. Sex was out. He knew that, too. She'd been with him the whole time.
Catherine shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I've barely spoken to him." She met his gaze. "I feel nothing for him. Not like what you do to me."
He swore, a raw need to claim her pulsing through him. "We had sex," he said. "I shared with you the secrets about my past. You trusted me with the fact you killed Alice's mother and the other angels, and you told me about Simon." He locked his hand around the back of her neck, riveted by the desire crashing through her eyes. "Those are bonding stages. Having sex. The trust stage, where we share our deepest secrets or entrust our lives to the other. Those are my stages, when I bonded to you. My claim to you. Mine."
This time, neither of them held back when they kissed. He was hit with a crashing need to tear her from Thano's grasp, to bind their souls to each other. The kiss was hot and carnal instantly, two desperate souls fighting to ward off Desdria, the darkness, and the intrusion of another male who didn't belong. Her breasts were hot and full in his hands, her nipples taut and ripe in his mouth, her core achingly wet for him.