His Dark Bond

by Anne Marsh

  Moving carefully, he slipped through the building. In his earpiece, his brothers barked directions. Instructions. Hell, he didn’t like drawing them into this. Any other time, he’d have hunted on his own. Today, though, he didn’t have the time to spare. He needed to get to Nessa. Fast. She’d turned off her cell, but he didn’t miss the fear spilling through their bond. She was keeping it together, but she was no match for Cuthah, and they all knew it.

  He should have been sending her waves of reassurance through their bond, but he was fairly certain that all she was reading from him was 100 percent, pure, lethal killer.

  “Blast in three from our boys.” Keros’s soft warning sounded in the earpiece, warning him to stop his forward momentum and brace. Vkhin and Nael were in place and had a little incendiary what-the-fuck for Cuthah. Still, even knowing it was coming, Zer was shaken. The blast rattled the building; shelving collapsed all around him with the musical crash of breaking glass.

  When the power died on cue, he counted out the long seconds in the dark, moving swiftly on memory of what he’d seen. When he hit the ten-second mark, the emergency gen kicked in, and the lights sputtered back on at half power. Perfect.

  “Hard right. Five paces.” Keros’s voice lasered in. “You’ve got access paneling above you.”

  Sure enough, moving aside the paneling in the ceiling, he pulled himself up into an air duct. The piping took a hard right, and Zer followed it.

  Sitting in her office, Nessa ran through her options. Thank God, the explosions seemed to have distracted Cuthah and his rogues. No one had come knocking on her locked door. But it couldn’t be much longer before someone discovered her.

  The air vent sliding open overhead just about gave her heart failure.

  Zer dropped down lightly, landing smack in the middle of her desk. Now, she decided, probably wasn’t the time to quibble about her paperwork.

  No greeting, no explanation, no soothing words—just the hand he extended to her, which she took before she could overthink it. His sharp tug pulled her to her feet. “You evac, now.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I’d love to get out of here,” she snapped back. “But how?

  Last time I looked, the hall was full of rogues.”

  “I’m going to battle my way out of here, with you right behind me.”

  “Then you’re just going to go on out there and die,” she said, and she could hear the desperation in her own voice. “Why?”

  “Why not?” Was he not speaking the same language as she? “Fighting’s what I do, baby. I’m not a politician. That’s not what I was bred to be.”

  “You weren’t bred to be anything, Zer,” she said, and he recognized her stubbornness. This was where she’d start the whole you-chose-your-destiny schtick, and he’d have to disappoint her. Again.

  “I defend,” he repeated gently, because part of him wanted to be who she believed he was. “I kill. It’s who I am.”

  “But Cuthah and his rogues are on the other side of that door,” she pointed out. “You’re outmanned and outgunned.”

  He stopped loading up on weapons for a minute and stared at her. He was packing an arsenal, and they both knew it.

  “We need a plan,” she said. “Some kind of an edge. If only you could get your wings back, like Brends did.”

  He looked at her as if he was half expecting her to take notes. “He found his soul mate,” he pointed out. “That’s the key.”

  “All right.” She stared at him expectantly, as if somehow he came with a mazhyk wand he could wave and—presto—she’d be his long-lost soul mate. “That’s your hypothesis.”

  “It’s not a hypothesis. It’s the truth.” He glared at her and started sliding weapons out of the bag.

  “It’s what you believe,” she said unflappably. “Tell me exactly what happened when he regrew his wings.”

  He shook his head. “You want a play-by-play of his love life, baby? I can do that, but I don’t know if we have enough time here for either of us to enjoy the story.”

  She shot him that look that made him want to undo all her buttons. See if he could shake that unflappable calm of hers. “He was having sex?”

  Best damned sex of their lives, if Brends’s account was to be believed. “You want to give it a shot, baby?”

  She stared off into space for a second, clearly thinking. “But he and Mischka had had sex before?”

  “Yeah. They had.”

  “Were they”—she blushed—“trying anything unusual?”

  He hadn’t demanded too many details, but he’d witnessed the bonding ceremony for Brends. “It was just sex, baby.”

  “Right. So no unusual positions, no—”

  “No,” he growled. “But I can promise you, they both enjoyed it.”

  “So, what made it different?” She looked up at him. “Or was it the number of times?”

  He hadn’t asked for those kinds of details, but maybe she was on to something here. Maybe there was a pattern they weren’t seeing.

  “What makes the wings happen? If it’s not kinky positions and not a certain threshold of events, then what causes the wings to appear? Why didn’t it happen the very first time?”

  “What difference does it make? I’m not getting my wings back, because we’re not soul mates.” He wasn’t letting her go there.

  “Are you sure?” She eyed him. “I’m not saying I want to be soul mates with you—”

  Hell, she made it sound like taking out the trash or paying a particularly unpleasant trip to the dentist.

  “But how do we really know, Zer? What did they do that we haven’t done?”

  He shrugged dismissively. “We know you’re a soul mate because you were on Cuthah’s list, and he’s been dead-on right so far.” Emphasis on dead, given what had happened to most of the females on that list.

  “But obviously you’re not my soul mate.”

  “Prove it.” The professor voice was back.

  “No wings. There’s your proof.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re holding out on me, Zer.”

  She wanted facts? He’d give her facts. Before he could rethink it, he described exactly what Brends had told him about the night his wings had regrown.

  “Brends said he gave Mischka everything that night. No holds barred.” He hesitated. “He gave in to every dark urge he had, came close to going rogue.”

  Leaning forward on the desk, he braced his forearms on either side of her. Caging her in his heat. “We all run that risk. All those emotions, those feelings you humans have, we drink them and then, sometimes, we don’t stop. We keep on drinking, keep on drawing on your emotions through the bond—you end up dead. That was Michael’s little price tag when he exiled us from the Heavens, took our souls and our wings from us. You want to tempt my control?” He smiled against the skin of her throat, feeling the pulse jump and throb as she processed what he was saying. “Brends didn’t hold back, love. And I won’t either.”

  “Show-and-tell—or something more, Zer?” She rose and turned in his arms until she was trapped between the desk and his body. The pure, sweet heat of her jolted through him.

  “You think that’s sexy, love?” Deliberately, he slipped his mental chain just a little. He knew his eyes glowed silver in the dimness of her office. “You think you can handle what I’ve got?” He shrugged casually. “I’ll do you, if that’s what you want. If that’s your fantasy.”

  “I’ll be unstoppable,” he growled, and the damn scent of her skin, the shell-pink flush of her arousal, made him want to say to hell with this battle. To hell with Cuthah. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and carry her away somewhere safe and love her. That was the fantasy, though, and not the reality.

  “I won’t be gentle, and you’re not going to be able to stop me.”

  He ran his hand down her forearm. A shudder rippled through her, leaving a trail of gooseflesh “You want an edge of violence to your sex, that’s fine.” He could dig that kind of fantasy. “That�
��s what Brends gave Mischka. He had her on that bed of his so fast and hard, she didn’t have a chance to scream. Just him and her and the bed. You want that kind of hard, rough sex? That make you wet? You want a warrior riding you, dominating you in bed?”

  “Maybe.” Her voice was a husky whisper in his ear.

  “You want to do this, or not?”

  She glared at him, and damned if he didn’t get a raging hard-on. He was a sick bastard, no doubt about it. He knew he wanted it, and that scared hell out of him. But he wasn’t in any mood to man up and discuss how he felt with her. That was his business, not hers.

  So why was his hand stroking a soft little path down her arm?

  His eyes narrowed. And she wasn’t saying no, thank you, now, was she? Color flushed her face, and her fingers were curling around his forearm.

  “You want to try that with me?” Was that his voice, making that request? “I should warn you, though, that I don’t have a good track record, not when it comes to the females. Last female under my protection, she died, and it was my fault. I didn’t keep Esrene safe, so maybe you should think that one over first.”

  She froze. “Esrene?”

  “I didn’t love her,” he said quickly. “But she mattered, yes. She was Brends’s pairling. I was his leader. I’d sworn to protect both of them.”

  “And you did.” She was sure of this.

  He eyed her grimly. “I did. I went after the Archangel, vowed to cut him down him on sight.”

  “The Archangel Michael.”

  “Yes.” He rolled his shoulders, training his gaze to the weaponry spread out on her desk. His large hands assembled the small arsenal with lethal familiarity. When his gaze met hers again, his hands stilled. “Yes,” he said again. “But it was all a setup. I still don’t know why Michael took responsibility for Esrene’s death. Hell, maybe he felt responsible. I did. I let Cuthah lead me around by the nose. Worse, when I attacked Michael, I broke the cardinal law of our kind. I defied an Archangel’s orders. I refused to accept his authority. The penalty for that should have been death.” He fit the barrel onto a gun with a soft snick. “Instead, I started a war. Too many of the males who fought under me decided to fight for me, instead.”

  She moved to stand behind him. Trouble was, her hand was on his neck, rubbing at the tension there. She wanted to comfort him—and he didn’t want that comfort. “You did what you thought was right, Zer. How can that be wrong? The other Fallen chose to follow you. That was their choice to make.”

  “No.” No point in candy-coating what had happened. Loading the clip into the gun, he sighted down the barrel. “I was their leader. Hell, I am their leader. That makes it my responsibility.” Setting the gun down, he looked around at her. “I started this war, and now I have to finish it.”

  He was warning her off. She got that. So she shouldn’t have savored the hot, hard heat of his body for even a moment before stepping away from him. “How? What’s your plan, Zer?” Striding around to the front of the desk, she slapped her palms down on either side of his. “And what’s my part in it, really? Is there a part for me—or have I already played it? I may be mostly human, but that doesn’t make me any less than the rest of you.”

  He sighed. “Believe me, I’m aware of that.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” He shoved away from the desk, and she watched him come, filling the too-small space with his heat and size.

  “I’m not this soul mate you were searching for.” Even though part of her traitorously wished she could be that woman.

  He made an impatient gesture. “I never thought I had one.”

  Why not? “Then, what—?”

  He cut her off, gently turning her around. Sliding her up onto the desk. Weapons shifted with a metallic chime as he slid them to one side. Making room for her. She couldn’t even protest the soft rain of paper—her paper—onto the floor. She didn’t care, she realized. Time had stopped.

  Placing one finger against her lips, he cupped his other hand gently against the back of her neck. “I wanted you for one of my brothers. I wanted to save at least one of them.”

  “You can’t make those kinds of choices for them.”

  Something dark flashed through his eyes. “I know that.”

  “Now.”

  His slow, masculine smile had her melting. “Yeah, now. So maybe you chose the wrong male, or maybe, Cuthah’s list was wrong, or maybe, he got the wrong woman. Even if you’re not a soul mate for one of the Fallen, you’re helping us defeat Cuthah’s army. You’ve brought us one step closer, and I won’t forget that, Nessa St. James.” He said her name like it was a promise. A vow. “I owe you for that help, and I swore I’d keep you safe, no matter what the cost.”

  The sounds from outside—from what had been her lab—grew uglier. More violent.

  “You don’t need to do this for me.”

  Looking her deep in the eyes, he hesitated. “I need to do it for me.” He paused, then plowed ahead. “For us. Whatever you are or aren’t, Nessa, you mean everything to me.”

  She had never thought to hear those words from him. And now that he’d said them, he meant to go out there against impossible odds and lay down his life for his brothers. For her.

  Zer filled the too-small space of her office. His large hands spread out on the cluttered surface of the desk. Large, strong hands that drew her eyes and held them. Hands that had brought her exquisite pleasure, hands that would protect her, no matter what the cost. She was mesmerized by the way his dark T-shirt clung to his chest; he was wearing his usual black leathers and those damned boots. He’d shed the duster, but only because, she was sure, dragging the damned thing through the air ducts would have been impossible. When he moved, she couldn’t tear her gaze from those strong, muscled forearms and that devilish swirl of black ink. Ink that screamed he belonged to her every bit as much as she belonged to him.

  “We go up.” He jerked a thumb toward the air duct in the ceiling. “That’s the plan. I take you out through the ducts before I take on Cuthah.”

  “I’m not leaving you. And what about my students?”

  “Your students are collateral damage, Nessa.” He spoiled his tough-guy image by adding, “I can’t get them out. Cuthah has them pinned down in your lab.” He could have forced her acquiescence. They both knew it. Between the bond and sheer brute strength, he didn’t have to ask her permission for anything. But he didn’t.

  “No,” she repeated. He folded those arms over his chest, then settled into in her poor banker’s chair, kicking his booted feet up onto the desk as he smiled that slow, devilish smile of his, accepting the impossible odds she’d just handed him. “You got a new plan for me, then, baby? You want to take me up on my offer?”

  Scrambling to straddle him, she threw one leg over him, letting the sides of her white lab coat slide open around them. He grabbed her shoulders, halting her downward slide. Beneath her spread thighs, he was hot and tense. Nowhere near as relaxed as he pretended.

  Brushing her thumbs over his jaw, she mimicked his earlier actions.

  The strong, hard line of his jaw was as uncompromising as the man himself. Sprawled on his lap, she had a front-row seat when his eyes swept up and met hers in a cool, mocking challenge. “Sex, right now? You surprise me, baby.” There was something else there, though, lurking under the surface. He wanted this. Wanted her.

  What if she could be what he needed, after all? According to her genes, she could be his soul mate. Okay. Someone’s soul mate. She had the genetic marker—all she needed was the man.

  She eyed the male lounging below her with a purr of satisfaction. And she’d found him. Now it was up to her to convince him to stay.

  With her.

  It was up to her to make him lose control. So he could find his wings. And keep his life.

  Lowering her head, she took his mouth in a hot, slow kiss. God, she loved his lips. Hard and firm. Just the brush of her mouth against his had now-familiar desire uncurling through her.
He felt so good. Sliding her tongue deeply into his mouth, she feasted on him. Beneath her, he groaned, a husky, masculine sound that had her creaming.

  Lifting her head, she stared into his dazed eyes and smiled slowly. “Take me, Zer.”

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  She leaned forward, cradling his cock in the sweet vee of her spread thighs. He could see the pink flush of excitement on her face as she nodded her head. Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, sliding the fabric upward. The gentle brush of the fabric shot straight to his cock. “I’m sure,” she whispered. “One hundred percent.”

  “You told me nothing can have a hundred percent success rate.”

  Her tongue licked delicately at the corner of his mouth, and he shivered. “This can. We can.”

  She wasn’t holding anything back anymore—and that was sexier than hell. She was giving him everything she had. No holds barred.

  He leaned back in the chair, giving her more room to work her magic. Her fingers teased open her clothing with deliberate, sensual provocation. The tempting curves of her breasts had him tunneling his fingers through her hair to hold her still for his kiss.

  She melted into him, and he never wanted the moment to end.

  When he finally broke off their kiss, he realized what he wanted to say to her. What he needed to say to her. “I love you.” His eyes sought hers. “I love you, baby.”

  She pulled back, her gaze suddenly uneasy. “Why?”

  Stroking the tumbled hair away from her face, he said, “It’s not science, Nessa. It just is. Can you tell me why you love me?”

  “I never said that I do.”

  “But you do.” If she didn’t, the phrase an eternity of hell took on a whole new meaning. So, he’d just have to coax the truth out of her.

  Smiling wickedly, he reached for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  His smile should have warned her. Sensual. Male. Arrogant. His cock stirred beneath her, the only thing separating them her panties and his leathers. Her arousal was a thick, liquid swirl of sensation between her legs. Shifting, she spread her thighs wider, rocking against the thick, delicious ridge. He was so damn beautiful.