Rising Darkness

by Élianne Adams

  Table of Contents

  Rising Darkness

  More by Élianne Adams

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  More by Élianne Adams

  Follow Élianne Adams

  About the author

  Rising Darkness

  By

  Élianne Adams

  Lick of Fire Series

  Rising Darkness

  Rising Fury

  Rising Storm (October 2018)

  Return to Avalore Series

  Call of the Dragon

  Rise of the Phoenix

  Once Upon a Fiery Christmas

  Lost in Magic

  Dragon Blood Series

  Releasing Her Dragon

  Her Gingerbread Dragon

  Finding His Dragon

  His Secret Dragon

  Saving His Dragon

  Keeping His Dragon

  Dark Wolves Series

  Torment

  Betrayal

  Wrath

  Burden

  Sugar Shack Series

  Northern Sass

  Candy Sass

  Hacking That Sass (August 2018)

  Copyright © 2018 by Élianne Adams

  All Rights Reserved

  Editing by: Theresa Cole

  Cover Art by Jacqueline Sweet Design

  ISBN 978-1-988644-14-1 (digital)

  Chapter 1

  Black, roiling clouds spun overhead, casting the day into darkness. The constant rumble and crackle of electricity in the putrefied air should have terrified Zenon. After centuries of captivity, he recognized the storm for what it was. A cover. Something was coming. Something strong. Powerful. Dangerous. But he was at peace. What was the worst that could happen—lightning would strike the metal rod he was tied to in the middle of the field like a forgotten dog? The creature that had somehow found him would chew at his bones until there was nothing left? He’d died through it before. Pain, like everything else, was fleeting. Once your heart stopped, nothing hurt. Until you lived again. Only then was the agony unbearable once more.

  The scent of decaying flesh filled his nose, burning like acid in his lungs. He wasn’t the only creature held in that mortuary of a pasture, but he was the only one to live on with each passing season. Most died within weeks. The dragons were heartier. They lasted a few years—sometimes more—but eventually, they too, went to their final rest.

  His animal didn’t give him that luxury. No matter what, the phoenix lived on. When the body gave out—in a blast of flame and glory only he was there to witness—he was reborn from the fire and ash. Magically returned to his prison. Alone. Chained. Useless.

  To think, prior to his captivity—before the world had succumbed to the evil that had plagued humanity—he and his kind were considered regal. A blessing to all. Heroes. Saviors. They’d been praised, revered even. The phoenixes had protected the realms and all their inhabitants without fail, never asking for anything in return but the peaceful coexistence they all deserved. But despite their best efforts, darkness had leeched into each society, bringing greed and entitlement. Leaders of great nations had set their sights on more than what they needed—wanting it all. Wars so terrible there could be no victors broke out across the world, and the reign of the mighty phoenix was no longer enough to make right the wrongs committed.

  Zenon snorted, regretting it the instant he did, for the pain it brought his already laboring lungs. With a shove he could hardly muster, he sprawled onto his back, peering deeper into the clouds. Big, fat drops of rain plunked on his peeling skin, sizzling and hissing on contact. Steam rose from his naked body, creating a blanket of fog for the wind to carry away.

  Thump thump. Thump thump. Too weak to turn his head all the way, Zenon peered right, then left. He tried to look above his head but couldn’t manage it. Where were they? He sniffed the air, tasted it on his dry tongue, but all he got was the rot and stench that always filled him. Nothing living, that was for damned sure. It had been weeks since the last creature had died. He shouldn’t hear anyone or anything’s life force pulsing in his wasteland—not that he’d chosen it as his own or wished it to be so—yet there it was. Thump thuuump, thump thump thump.

  Perhaps it was his own heart. That sometimes happened when he was close to the rising. No, his was heavier. Duller. Steadier. This one pulsed much too quickly. And it didn’t beat quite right, as though it hadn’t found its rhythm or was losing it somehow.

  A long pause had him holding his breath as he strained to hear. Thumpthumpthump thump thump…thump thumpthump. The failing organ hammered on in quick succession until even he was left dizzy from the uneven pace at which it clipped.

  Directly above, in the eye of the storm, an orange glow winked to life. Zenon focused on the small point. Waiting. Whatever had conjured the ethereal storm was coming. Did the heartbeat belong to his murderer? The glow spread like a drop of blood in the water, staining the sky the further it went, leaving the center a deep, burnt orange, the outer rings paler and paler until they faded into the murky clouds.

  Even as he observed, he listened for that pulse. The irregularity of it had left him reeling. It drew him. Demanded his attention. It made his sluggish heart race as though something important was coming. Yet, there he was, chained. Helpless.

  An agonized screech rose from his chest and ripped from his lips, cutting through the drone of the storm, shocking him to his bones and stilling his breath.

  When had his phoenix last uttered a sound? Five hundred years ago? A thousand?

  The thundering of his heart all but obliterated the other. Whatever was happening, it had captured the phoenix’s attention. The beast had been silent for so long, Zenon feared he’d never hear it or feel its power running through his veins again. The rebirth only happened once his mortal heart stopped beating, and by the time it resumed, the phoenix would already be dormant again. There, yet always out of reach.

  Maybe the magic-infused alloy collar that prevented his beast from emerging had weakened. Could he call upon his phoenix and free himself? Using every ounce of strength he possessed, Zenon reached for the thick metal around his neck. He slipped his fingers beneath the cursed thing and heaved with all his might, but he only depleted himself further. The instrument of his demise did not break. It did not bend.

  His breath rattled in his chest. A dry wheeze whispered past his lips. And despair pounded him deeper into the dirt than any storm ever could.

  “Is that you, brother?” a voice Zenon never expected to hear again whispered in his mind. The deep, gravelly tone sounded weak, and so very far away.

  “Zandar?” he screamed on the mental link. “Zandar. I hear you, brother. I hear you.”

  Dry sobs racked his body. If he could have produced tears, they would have mingled with the fat drops pouring down on him from above. He opened his mind further, desperate for the connection with his kin. The last time he’d spoken to one of his brothers was the day of his capture. The moment the collar had locked into place, all had gone silent. His family. His clan. Everyone disappeared in an insta
nt.

  In the days and years to follow, he’d tried repeatedly to establish the connection, but not once had he managed to bridge the distance between them.

  Holding his breath, he listened. His throat, parched and raw, ached with the pent-up emotions he couldn’t release. “Zandar?” More than anything, he wished the name hadn’t come out as a frantic plea, displaying not only his physical weakness, but the failure of his heart and soul. But he couldn’t help it. Desperation filled every cell in his body, every molecule.

  Worse than any death he’d suffered, the cold, hard silence that had followed ate at his soul, shredding it like a million scythes bearing down on him at once. He’d rather relive being eaten alive by wild beasts many times over than suffer through the silence of one more day.

  A violent shudder coursed through him. Damn and damn again. His transition was coming. He couldn’t let go. Had to fight it. What if, after he was reborn, he couldn’t reopen the connection to his phoenix? To his brother?

  He breathed past the pain—in through his nose and out between his cracked, peeling lips. Certain the orange glow in the sky was responsible for his strides in unfurling his power, even for those brief moments, Zenon refocused on it. It had grown. The bleeding color swirled around like a tornado above—but more dangerous. As it descended, the rain shoved aside. Each rotation was bigger, stronger. Dark fingers that looked like rust reached from the center, extending out to the very edges of the cloud.

  “Zandar,” he called out once more on the weak telepathic link that should have been like a burning beacon to his kin. Dirt and debris bit into his paper-thin skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the anguish that devoured his soul when he got no response at all.

  He didn’t yet know what creature had found him. He didn’t care. He just wanted it to be over.

  Let it be quick, let it be merciful, and please, if any of the Gods remain, let it be final.

  Chapter 2

  Sharp pain stabbed through Nickie’s sternum all the way to her spine before shooting down her arm. Even though she’d survived the same thing countless times in her twenty-six years of life, she’d never gotten used to it. A grunt slipped past her lips as black dots swam through her line of vision.

  “Nicole Belinda Grovin, if you die on me now, I won’t forgive you. Not ever. Do you hear me?” Jasmine yelled the question at her from the driver’s seat.

  Nickie took a shuddering breath. “I’m having a heart attack. I’m not deaf.”

  “You think this is funny?” The vehicle swung wildly over the gravel road as her best friend glanced her way, her eyes so wide the whites showed around the irises.

  “Fuck. You’re going to kill us. Eyes on the road,” she barked back. Of course, it wasn’t funny. Nothing about it was humorous in the least. But it would be over soon. Her heart would stop, she’d be dead for a few minutes, and then it would kick into gear again. Thank fuck. Unless this time it didn’t start up again. None of the doctors had been able to give her any answers. “I’m sorry. I know this scares the shit out of you.”

  Jasmine shoved her unruly hair out of her face. “We’re going to find that asshole this time. And he’s going to be yours—not one of theirs. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. And this is the last goddamn time you’re going through this. The. Last. Time. Then I’m going to kill the fucker for doing it to you in the first place.” The little quiver in her voice belied her tough words.

  Nickie gasped, then giggled. “You know that will only make me go through it again, right? If he dies, I die. That’s how it works. Unless, of course, the witch was just a crazy old lady who didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.” The pressure in her chest increased, robbing her of her breath. She tried to hold back her moan, but the pain tore through her, fast and hard. If speed at which her symptoms were progressing were any indication at all, her mate was in rough shape.

  “Fuck!” Jasmine yelled again. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel, making the vehicle lurch to the side. “I hate this. I hate it so much.”

  “I do, too. It’s almost over,” she wheezed out. Her heart stuttered one moment, only to race like she’d run a marathon the next. “Just keep driving. The GPS says to go left—”

  Another wave of pain crushed her, stealing the rest of her words.

  “Got it. Left at the fork in the road. Don’t talk. All right? Just get better and hope to hell that old woman had the right coordinates. If she didn’t, she’s in for a world of hurt when we see her next.”

  Clutching her chest, Nickie twisted in her seat. With shaking fingers, she wiped the cold sweat from her brow. The two SUVs that followed carried non-perishables, and three more women with the same ridiculous affliction she’d been born with rode in each. Adding Jasmine to the pile made eight of them in total. Why Jas had been allowed to come along for the ride, she had no idea, but she was glad. As long as her best friend was with her, she could get through anything.

  “There it is. There. See it?” Jasmine asked, her voice rising, this time with excitement as she pointed somewhere up ahead. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

  Nickie breathed through her nose and out through her mouth and a strange burning sensation in her nose made her sneeze. Maybe, just maybe, if they found him in time, they could save him, and in the process, save her. That, of course, depended on whether he was hers, but she refused to believe otherwise.

  The Ranger skidded on the loose gravel as Jasmine swung to the left, taking the final leg of their journey at speeds that weren’t safe for any of them. But Nickie recognized the fear in her friend. The desperate need to keep from living through those few minutes when Nickie’s body was nothing more than a husk, waiting for life to come crashing back in, lived in her, as well.

  She hadn’t understood it. Not really. Not until she’d witnessed Mac’s death a few nights ago. The terror of it made her shudder at the memory—blue lips, glassy, empty eyes, motionless body. It wasn’t anything she wanted to see ever again. Yet Jasmine had been there for her several times a year since the day they’d met. Somehow, no matter what had gone on in their lives, Jas was always the one with her when her heart stopped beating.

  Jasmine raced over the rough road. Even when it turned into a rutted path, she drove on. It wasn’t until it was impassible that she put the vehicle in park. “You okay? We’re going to have to hoof it.”

  No. Not even close. Her fingers were numb, and black spots swam before her again, but she blinked them away. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  Dark, ominous clouds loomed ahead, swirling in a way that should have sent them running for cover. The other SUVs pulled up next to theirs, and the women spilled out. Each of them looked straight at it, strapping blades and guns onto their bodies. She wasn’t the only one hoping for salvation in the form of a supernatural being—a phoenix.

  When the witch had come knocking, Nickie had laughed at her outlandish stories, but the more she spoke, the more what she said rang true. Call it wishful thinking, call it misguided hope, but just the possibility of healing her body was enough to send her on the journey they were on.

  Being mated to a stranger—who, for all she knew, could be a total asshole—wasn’t ideal, but it had to be better than dying every couple of months. Right?

  “Maybe you should stay here,” Jessica, one of the other mate hopefuls, suggested sweetly, but it was anything but kind. “I hate to say it, but you don’t look so hot.”

  Nickie couldn’t even get pissed about it. It stood to reason that one less woman to make it to the phoenix would increase the odds of those who got there. If Nickie could convince some of the others to sit this one out, she would.

  “Back off, bitch. She’s going if I have to carry her the whole way,” Jasmine spat before Nickie could respond.

  If it weren’t for the fact that the women were needed to find the rest of the phoenixes, each of them bringing something different to the table, she might have considered going off with only Jasmine. But the wi
tch had been clear. They had to stick together or none would survive.

  Jessica’s lips turned up at the corners, but there was no humor in her eyes to back it up. “He’ll already have chosen before you get there. You’ll only tire yourself out more, but you know, suit yourself,” she mocked as she turned and jogged to catch up to the group who had already set off for the clearing.

  Nickie took a shallow, wheezing breath. It wasn’t that far. She could make it. She’d be the last to get there, but this was it. She felt it in her bones. Or maybe that was the death rattle. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she wasn’t giving up.

  By the time the others had disappeared into the heavy rain, Nickie was struggling to keep her feet moving. Each step sent the crushing pain in her chest pounding harder, faster.

  “You’re almost there. Come on,” Jasmine said, propping her up on her shoulder.

  “I’m going to owe you a sundae with all the fixings when this is done,” she told her friend, her voice nothing more than a hoarse croak.

  “Ten fucking ice creams. Twenty. With nuts. And Cherries. And caramel. The caramel is going to run down my fucking chin, there’s going to be so much of it. And not from the cheap place, either. You’re taking me to one of those gourmet places. You better hope your shifter is fucking rich as hell. Those sundaes are going to put a huge dent in your savings.”

  Nickie smiled at the outrageousness coming from Jas’s lips. Again, it was the fear talking. She always went on when the terror was at its highest, and she fought to keep herself together.

  The first cool drop of rain hit her square in the chest. It would have felt good on her overheated body if it weren’t for the deluge that followed. She went from sweaty to drenched within seconds. The water sluiced over them in thick sheets, obliterating her sight.

  “Keep going straight,” she yelled to Jasmine, as the storm howled louder.

  Whether she heard, Nickie couldn’t be sure, but they kept moving. After what felt like an eternity, the wind and rain vanished from one breath to the next. The sudden departure left her stumbling to the ground.