Warm, calloused hands took hold of hers.
“What are you doing?” Her head snapped up. Terror choked her, pain squeezing her chest.
“Easy,” Aerén soothed her. “I am safe. Listen...” he said, his thumb rubbing her scarred palms. She tried to pull back, then stilled when she realized the only ache she felt came from her compressed lungs. Eve inhaled a shuddering breath. “How?”
“It’s the way we are. We learn to shield at a young age.”
About to ask what he meant by that odd comment, Aerén placed her splayed fingers on his face, distracting her. “Feel...”
Eve closed her eyes and let the sensation lost for so many years steal over her, allowing herself a moment to savor finally being able to touch another. And became aware of warm masculine skin with a rasp of beard beneath her palm.
“See? You can touch me. There is no need to be afraid,” Aerén murmured, continuing to caress her hands.
Eve opened her eyes and met his warm sterling ones, so close to hers. His gaze drifted down to her mouth.
Oh, no. She tugged her hands, but he didn't let go. “Aerén, don’t.”
“Why?”
Because I want another.
A wry smile curved her lips. “Besides the fact that I just met you several hours ago—you're what, twenty—twenty-one? I'm twenty-five, a quarter of a century.”
Amusement twinkled in his light eyes. He let her go. “If it makes you happy to think so, by all means.”
Eve understood Aerén’s flirting was to take her mind off what had happened earlier. But the questions prowling in her head refused to remain silent any longer. “Aerén, do you know what happened to Reynner? When I touched him, I saw his dreams—his nightmares. Why was he locked in a cell?”
Aerén pushed to his feet, looking uneasy. “You will have to ask him. My advice, don’t. He doesn’t ever speak about his captivity.”
His words landed with the impact of a punch to her stomach.
Reynner had been…captured?
Chapter 8
After a grueling run through the forest, which did little to ease the remorse prowling through him, Reynner flashed back to his aerie. And barely stopped himself from scanning for Eve as he headed for the shower.
The water sluicing over his body only served to remind him of her hands on him...in his hair.
Heavens, he squeezed his eyes tight, fists braced against the rough surface of the walls. He had to stop thinking about her.
He hadn't seen her since she’d fled from him, after he’d scared the hell out of her. At the thought, his stomach hollowed out, but the exquisite taste of her lingered in his mind.
With unsteady hands, he shoved back his wet hair and left the shower, heading for his closet. He dried off then grabbed a pair of loose, white cotton pants, pulled them on, and walked out of the bedroom.
Barefoot, he ran down the wooden stairs to the lower levels and came to a dead halt in the kitchen.
Aerén slouched in a chair, staring out the windows. Instead of Eve, Lucan was there. The pain-in-the-ass mage looked up from his coffee, his pale greenish-blue eyes narrowing.
He really didn’t need Lucan’s shit right now.
Reynner opened the fridge and took out a decanter of ice water. Pouring some in a glass, he leaned against the counter and took a deep swallow.
The prince’s cold stare warned he still hadn't forgotten what happened with Eve. Reynner definitely wasn't interested in revisiting that incident. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl behind him and took a bite.
“You look like…shit.” Lucan's gaze skimmed over him and settled on the tattoo on his left pectoral.
Reynner fixed him with a cool stare while he chewed his fruit. “Why are you here?”
Like he didn’t know. Through the centuries, Lucan would pop into Exilum for an update on the search for the foretold one. And here he was again, just when Reynner had found Eve. He took another bite of his apple.
“What’s the plan to take the scroll now that you’ve located the mortal?” Lucan leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee.
No beating around the bush with the annoying bastard.
“We have bigger problems,” Reynner informed him. “A few nights ago in New York, I took down a small horde of demoniis, but I sensed another in the alley. One of our kind.”
Aerén shot up from his chair. His silver eyes flared in anger, his animosity toward Reynner forgotten. “Darkreans?”
“Yes. The thing is, he would have seen Eve—she took it into her head to help me fight the demoniis.” He wanted to curse again at how she’d put herself in danger.
Aerén’s jaw dropped, then his guffaw resounded through the kitchen.
“She wanted to aid you?” he spluttered.
At the cold look Reynner pinned him, hastily he sobered, cleared his throat. “But females don’t do that. We are supposed to be their protectors.”
“Not in her world.” Reynner’s gut knotted, the apple a solid lump in his belly. He’d never forget his fear when the demonii had flashed to her. “I had to bring her here. We can’t take chances leaving her unprotected with those damn Darkreans lurking about.”
“Did you speak to her? Explain what’s going on?” Lucan asked him.
Reynner shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
Hell, he still had to mend fences with Eve. If she told him to take a flying leap off the mountains sans wings, yeah, he couldn’t blame her. Except it wasn't an option until she awakened the scroll and found the missing Stone. Maybe then he’d oblige her.
***
Eve smoothed her palms down her freshly laundered dress, grateful that Izzeri had seen to her things. At least she had on underwear again.
She raked her shaky fingers through hair still damp from her shower, drew in a deep breath, and tried to calm her frayed nerves.
Now, she had to face reality. Face Reynner.
Unable to linger any longer, she left the room and made her way toward the kitchen farther down the corridor, concentrating on what she had to do. First, she’d apologize to him. She owed him that. And he had asked to speak to her, so she’d hear him out. Then she’d leave.
The aroma of coffee, baked biscuits, and something savory wafting in the air did little to tempt her appetite with her stomach in a tangle. But raised voices stopped her in her tracks.
“What do you mean you’ve done nothing yet?” Aerén demanded.
She couldn’t hear Reynner’s words, but his low tone resonated with impatience.
“I figured that out last night,” Aerén retorted. “Why didn’t you ask her?”
“Because I was too damn busy evading shitheads from Hell and trying to keep her alive!”
They were arguing over her. Eve pushed open the kitchen door, wanting to put an end to this disagreement. The air there was so thick with tension, she paused in the doorway, sure if she took another step she’d suffocate with the rising levels of testosterone in the room.
The heated discussion stopped, all eyes turning to her.
She was barely aware of Aerén and another man there. Reynner drew her gaze like a magnet. Shirtless and impossibly beautiful, he leaned against the counter, his expression grim. Loose, white drawstring pants sat low on his lean hips. One hand rested on the counter beside him, the other held a half-eaten apple.
His pale hair hung unbound, falling to his shoulders, a startling contrast to his tanned face. But when she met his gaze, the flatness there had her swallowing. He wasn't going to make it easy to apologize. Well, she’d have to get him alone and do it then.
Taking a deep breath, Eve looked away and clashed gazes with eyes like turquoise glaciers.
The tall man leaning against the edge of the table wore pants and a tunic similar to Aerén’s. Swathes of sable hair were drawn away from his cold, striking face and tied at the back of his head. His gaze drifted from the top of her damp hair to the tips of her toes.
Uneasy at the intensity of his perusal, s
he took a step back in sheer self-preservation. “I’ll come back—”
“No,” Reynner’s low voice stopped her. “It’s midday, and you’ve missed breakfast.”
Before she could open her mouth to tell him she wasn't hungry, Aerén leaped up and pulled out a chair. “Come, Eve. You didn’t eat much last night either.”
The warm smile on his face stopped her retreat, melting the ice forming in her veins. He loped over, put a hand on her back and ushered her to the table.
Eve ignored Reynner’s stony stare. Whether it was because Aerén had taken the seat beside her and was so attentive, she had no idea. But she appreciated Aerén’s attempt to put her at ease.
However, the tension emitting from him enclosed her in its force field, as if he were about to explode. He shifted on his seat, knees bouncing—it surprised her he hadn't toppled off his chair yet.
Something had happened. They were all on edge. And like a virus, it took root in her, too. She ran nervous fingers down her dress. A mug of coffee appeared by her elbow. Grateful for the distraction, she gave Izzeri a quick smile. “Thank you.”
As she reached for the cream, the prickling sensation swarming over her grew. Eve looked up and found herself being studied by the cold stranger. There was nothing sexual about his scrutiny, but she understood exactly how a bug under a microscope must feel.
“Eve, this is Lucan.” Reynner introduced her. “Luc, Eve Leighton.”
Lucan merely stared in response to her croaked “hello.” But there was a note in Reynner’s voice that had her glancing at him. Was he irritated? Did he not like the man?
Her questions vanished when she met Reynner’s dark, brooding stare. Instantly, memories pulled her back to his room where he’d trapped her against the wall. Her stomach dipped in painful remembrance. But when his gaze blanked out, became unreadable, a pang of regret settled in her.
To give herself something to do, Eve drew the sugar bowl closer. She needed to get her head screwed on right. The only feelings Reynner had for her were ones of revulsion. He must despise her for what she’d unintentionally seen. But the images of the horrid creatures hurting him, and then what that awful woman had done...
Unable to completely shut off those thoughts, she loaded her coffee with several servings of sugar then gulped down half the syrupy brew hoping it would steady her.
The question she’d overheard Aerén ask lingered in her mind. Eve wondered if it was the same reason Reynner wanted to talk to her. Might as well get this over with, then.
She set her coffee down. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”
Reynner focused those night-sky eyes on her. A spark of blue flickered in them. “When you've finished with your meal, meet me in the living room.”
He waited until she nodded, then left his half-eaten apple on the countertop and strode from the kitchen, his bare feet soundless on the floor. Eve watched him go, and her brows knitted in confusion at the rough scabs already forming over his wounds.
Yesterday, the wounds had appeared as if they would take weeks—months to mend, and now they were almost healed. How was that possible?
“Reyn, wait.” Aerén pushed off his chair and went after him, his boots thudding on the granite floor.
Lucan gave her a long, considering look as if he couldn’t believe she was…what? Too lacking? Too simple? Before he too followed the others.
Why couldn’t they just ask their darn questions, instead of leaving her to stew in curiosity? For all she knew, Lucan wanted her gone. And Reynner would probably be all too happy to concur.
***
Reynner paced along the balcony. The heavy winds snapped at his unbound hair. He stopped at the ledge and stared at the craggy rock face of the mountains. More than anything, he wanted to fly, to feel the winds gliding over his skin while he cut through the heavy drafts and away from what was to come.
Anger, laden with guilt, twisted his gut. Anger that Eve had seen the very things he despised about himself—his helplessness in the hands of that demoness, his humiliation. And guilt that Eve’s scent had him losing control.
Dammit, she shouldn’t have been able to see his thoughts. How the hell was that possible? Why had she touched him?
You were thrashing around like an insane bat, dumbass. She was trying to comfort you.
Reynner tried to work through it logically. She’d touched him and saw his nightmares…
If Eve had magic in her blood, then she would have some kind of psychic ability. Oh, shit! Self-recrimination tore through him as understanding sparked. What the hell had he done?
Breathing hard through his nose, he scrubbed his face. Aerén was right, he was a bastard, and he couldn’t sink any lower than he did right then. And he’d accused her of deliberately invading his mind.
Lucan came to stand beside him, flanked by Aerén on his other side.
“She’s so frail,” Lucan said. “I cannot believe our future lies in her hands.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell her, Reyn. If you don’t, then I will. We’re talking about saving a realm, and you want to wait—for what?”
Reynner’s gut churned at the reality. If—no, when Eve agreed, he’d take her down a path from which there was no return. He’d bring her into his world, his life, and all the dangers and usual damn shit that went with it.
Demoniis. A goddess determined to get her claws in him. And Darkreans, who’d be only too happy to capture Eve for the chance to awaken the scroll so they could locate the missing Stone for whatever the hell they planned.
And the latter could not happen. Ever.
Inhaling the crisp air, he concentrated on the task ahead. He’d ask Eve for her help, if she didn’t decide to use his dagger on him. No, first he had to apologize for scaring the crap out of her with what he’d done. He knew all too well how to awaken arousal in someone who didn’t want it. A pit opened in his belly, but he refused to consider why he felt that way at the thought that she didn’t want him.
He had forced her—he’d fucking forced her. He was no better than the demon bitch, who had done the same to him.
“Eve is mortal. She doesn’t even know our kind exists. Her life,” he gritted out, “consists of hanging with her friends and visiting art galleries. So unless you want to send her screaming back to her world and lessen our chances of getting her help, you’ll have to let me handle this my way.”
Lucan glared at him. “No. Now.”
Reynner thrust his fists into his pants pockets so he wouldn’t cork Lucan in the face. The gusty winds carried the cool sprays from the waterfall and drenched his heated skin but did little to ease his temper.
Then the truth hit him, his blood blazed. “You always knew I’d find her, didn’t you?”
That was why Lucan had demanded he go to New York two months ago. So he’d be at the right place, at the right time, and in the right fucking century.
“Did you know?” Aerén asked, coming round to the mage’s side. “Why did you not say anything?”
Lucan shrugged. “Nothing about the future is certain. The Stone has been missing for centuries. An intimation of success means nothing if it’s not achieved.” He cut Reynner a calm stare. “I had to make sure you didn’t mess this up. We’ve waited eons. Sleep with her if you have to, but get her agreement.”
Sleep with her? Lucan’s words hit too close to the truth of what had nearly happened, even if it was for a different reason.
“You’re still the talk of Empyrea. No one can touch your repute when it comes to the females.”
Why the fuck was that all anyone remembered about him?
“Shut the hell up, Luc,” Reynner snapped. Like he needed a reminder of his other life. “You have no fucking clue what you're talking about. You live in your damn tower like a closeted virgin, communicating to who the fuck knows for what.”
The mage’s eyes slitted dangerously. Power surged to swirl around him. “I live in that tower because it’s the only way I can keep our realm safe and preserve wh
at's left of it. Do your job, Reynner of Ademéras. She wants you. I don’t have to be a mage to see that. Your scent already marks her.”
Reynner moved like lightning. He grabbed Luc by the throat as the truth hit him. Marking. Like she belonged to him. No-no! “I brought her here for one reason only. I know my fucking obligations—I don’t need you to ram it down my throat!”
“It’s just your scent, not a bloody bonding,” Lucan retorted. “As long as her eyes stay clear—”
“Oh, hell.”
At Aerén’s soft curse, they both turned. Reynner swore viciously.
Eve stood by the door, staring at them. The winds tugged at her hair and flirted with the hemline of her bright blue-green dress, revealing golden brown thighs Reynner was intimately acquainted with. His heart felt like it would kick through his sternum.
She had to have heard him. Reynner shoved Lucan away.
Fuck! He swore again. He glowered at Lucan, whose only concern was restoring Empyrea back to its formidable state. He didn't care who got trampled along the way. As if their realm would disintegrate within minutes if Eve didn't find the Stone straight off.
“Relax,” Lucan said, straightening his shirt. “Unless you’ve taught her our language, I doubt she understood a word of our conversation. Now go do what you must.”
For some reason, he didn’t feel relief knowing she didn't understand them. He felt worse, like he’d betrayed her. Dammit, he wasn’t deceiving her. He had a job to do. But when he met her wary gaze, everything inside him protested. And Reynner knew he could never do that to her.
Yeah, he’d enlist her help, but he would never seduce her and taint her with the darkness prowling through him.
Chapter 9
Eve struggled to breathe air into flattened lungs, unable to get over her scare. Reynner had almost fallen over the ledge, fighting Lucan. Why the hell didn’t he have railings if he chose to live this high up?
She hastily stepped aside as Lucan strode past her, looking like a pissed off panther, short a snarl. He didn't even look at her. Her worry deepened when Aerén merely nodded as he followed, his easy smile missing.
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