Dark Guardian (Dark Series - book 9)

by Christine Feehan

  Lucian turned to face her, the window behind him. Outside, the night was dark and a bit stormy. She could hear rain falling in a steady pattern and wind blowing through the trees, making their branches rake the walls. “I may not be a doctor in the usual sense of the word, but I do heal people. I healed you.”

  Again, Jaxon knew it was true. She knew all kinds of things about him. Things she shouldn’t have known. Intimate things. She knew he had traveled the world, every continent, several times. He spoke countless languages. He was wealthy, yet money meant nothing to him except as a means to an end. She knew he had been searching for her for a long, long time.

  As she assessed the situation, Lucian’s black eyes watched her carefully, unblinking, the eyes of a predator watching its prey. His mind was a shadow in hers, observing her thoughts, the way her mind worked, the way she was analyzing her own feelings.

  Jaxon was aware of that strange phenomenon, the way her heart beat matched the rhythm of his, the way her breathing seemed to slow to the pace of his. How did she know so much about Lucian when he was a complete stranger to her? She knew he loved art and antiquities. He had extensive knowledge of both and of the artists and artisans who had created them, yet only recently had he found joy and beauty in paintings and sculptures, antiques and music. He had healed countless people, healed them in some strange and unique way. That part was hazy to her, locked away somewhere in her brain for further study. He had healed her in the same way he had those others.

  “You talked to me while I was asleep,” she murmured, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she knew so much about him. “Is that how I know so many things about you?”

  Lucian shrugged carelessly, the movement fluid and flawlessly casual. “Does it really matter?” Simply looking at her made him want to smile. It was amazing how her mere existence had already changed his life. He wanted to look at her for all time. The shape of her face, the curve of her cheek, her long lashes, everything. After all the dark ugliness, the truly evil things he had seen over the centuries, Jaxon was a miracle to him.

  Everything about Lucian was mesmerizing to Jaxx. She never wanted to leave him. She wanted to remain here, locked away in their own world, far from what she knew was reality. She felt safe and warm. She loved the way he looked at her. Occasionally she saw in his eyes unexpected flashes—flashes of desire, of possessiveness, of warmth and tenderness. She very much wanted to savor those things. To hold them to her.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” she found herself replying.

  His voice was so soft. Hearing it was like being wrapped in velvet. But Jaxon was not about to fool herself. As sexy and exciting as Lucian was, she had the feeling that if she was stupid enough to give him a free hand, he could easily take on the male, domineering arrogance that set her teeth on edge.

  He burst out laughing, the sound drifting over her skin like the touch of fingers. A shaft of desire hit her, then blossomed into full-blown need. That terrified her. She was unprepared for such intense feelings. Did her reaction to him show? She actually looked around guiltily, afraid someone else might observe her looking at Lucian.

  “You have to take me home,” she said. Her voice was husky. She could feel tears clogging her throat. This was all a fantasy. Reality was stark and ugly. Her presence here would get this beautiful man killed. He would pay the ultimate price because she had looked upon him with longing. Because he had been kind enough to help her.

  Lucian glided across the room so swiftly, she actually didn’t see him move. He was a tall, muscular man, elegant in every way, silent when he walked, but she still should have seen him. All she had done was blink, and he was standing over her, reaching for her chin with two fingers. He tilted her head up, forcing her to look into his black eyes. At once she felt herself falling forward, into him, a part of him, warm and safe.

  “There is no need for your distress, honey. I cannot have it. You actually make my heart ache.” His thumb was feathering back and forth across her skin, sending waves of heat racing through her bloodstream. “No one can harm you.”

  “I’m not worried about me, you idiot.” Jaxon was provoked. He didn’t seem to understand the danger he was in. He really was arrogant.

  Suddenly his demeanor changed completely. His smile faded, and his eyes became as cold as ice. He turned his head toward the window. She clearly saw the predator in him then. The hunter. There was no gentleness, no softness; he was a warrior without any conscience to hinder him.

  “Stay here, Jaxon,” he murmured almost absently, clearly expecting obedience. “I will be back soon.”

  And just like that, he was gone. Another blink, and he was no longer in the room. She sat there, unerringly finding her gun beneath the covers. Her hand wrapped around it—an extension of her arm, it was so familiar. She felt now what Lucian had felt, the darkness stealing into their world. It crept in slowly, seeping into her mind so insidiously that, at first, she hadn’t recognized it. Danger had found them in this place of safety.

  The feeling was overwhelming, so much so that Jaxon almost couldn’t breathe. Whoever was stalking them was wholly evil. She was certain Tyler Drake had found her once again. He was relentless in his pursuit. Invincible. No one had so much as come near enough to him to even wound him. He killed at will.

  Once, since he had murdered her family and then her foster family, it had been a neighbor of hers, one Jaxon enjoyed having coffee with—a young woman in a wheelchair with a zest for life and a ready smile. Jaxon had never allowed herself to have a real friend since. Even on the job she made certain it appeared as if she changed partners often. In public she never smiled at them or socialized with them, not wanting to trigger Tyler’s killing rage. This situation—Jaxon alone in a man’s house—was the perfect scenario to provoke Tyler once more, a vengeful maniac determined to murder Lucian.

  Lucian clearly didn’t appreciate the extent of Tyler’s Navy SEALs training. He was a chameleon, blending into any landscape. He was a superb sniper, capable of taking out a target from an extraordinary distance. Jaxon recognized Lucian as a dangerous man. It was in his eyes, in the set of shoulders, the confidence in his walk, the way he moved. But that didn’t mean Tyler Drake couldn’t get to him just as he had gotten to her equally well-trained father and foster father, Russell Andrews.

  Jaxon tossed back the covers. She was wearing only a man’s silk shirt. As she was short, the shirt fell well past her knees, and, in any case, modesty was the last thing she was worried about. The feeling of danger was now stronger than ever. Lucian was in trouble, and she needed to go to him. He didn’t know her that well, didn’t realize the extent of her training and what an asset she could be.

  Standing was more difficult than she’d thought it would be. She hadn’t been in an upright position for days. Her legs felt rubbery, and she was terribly weak. Ignoring the way her body protested, she moved toward the door, careful not to make a sound She didn’t know the layout of the house, and, judging by the size of her room, the building was huge, but she was confident she could find Lucian. She felt connected to him. She wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him. To Jaxon, it was that simple. She would not let him be hurt for any reason, least of all on her account.

  Her bedroom opened out into a long, wide landing with a sweeping staircase on either end. The carpets were thick and looked brand new. Every detail about the house looked ideal. Jaxon noticed it all because it was so perfect, as if Lucian had lovingly brought in every item personally. Each painting, each sculpture, the wall paper and carpets and stained glass—it was everything she had ever dreamed of, right down to her preference in antique furniture.

  Jaxon went by it all silently, her bare feet making no sound as she began her descent down the stairs. Halfway down, she spotted an alcove cut into the wall, an ornate glass door leading to a small balcony. She opened the door, taking great care to do so in complete silence. At once the rain drenched her, the wind so cold she began to tremble. She barely notice
d. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, seeking her target.

  At first she could see nothing. A jagged bolt of lightning arced across the sky, lighting the courtyard below. She could see Lucian standing completely motionless in the very center of the immense patio. Several yards away from him a second figure cloaked in along black cape stood in deeper shadows. She found that her eyes seemed to adjust quickly to the lack of light, giving her excellent night vision, and her acute hearing, new and odd to her, picked up the strange conversation between the two men.

  Lucian’s voice was even more beautiful than usual, pitched low and with a velvet purity that crept beneath the skin and seeped into the mind. “I can do no other than oblige you, Henrique,” he said, “when you have come so far to call on me with so blatant a challenge.”

  “I did not know it was you, Lucian.” The second voice was a horrible, scratchy noise that grated like fingernails on a chalkboard. “You have been thought dead these last five centuries. Indeed, it was believed you had joined our ranks.”

  The figure turned, and Jaxon could see him perfectly. The sight was horrifying. His head was a mere gray, pitted, bullet-shaped skull, with a few strands of long hair straggling across the top. His eyes glowed crimson, and his nose was no more than a gaping hole. His gums were receded, his teeth jagged and stained. When the creature lifted a hand, his long nails were like talons. He looked hideous.

  Jaxon wanted to cry out a warning to Lucian. The stranger tried to sound ingratiating, but she could feel the strong waves of hatred radiating from him. Deep inside where she knew things others didn’t, she knew the monster facing Lucian had every intention of attacking him at the first opportunity.

  “The trouble with listening to gossip, Henrique, is that it can be so completely wrong. I am the dispenser of justice for our people. I have always been loyal to our Prince and always will be. You have chosen to break our Carpathian laws and those of all mankind.”

  Lucian’s voice was so beautiful, Jaxon felt completely caught up in it. She had to shake her head several times to keep her mind on what was important. The biting cold helped considerably, as did the driving rain. She sighted down the barrel of her gun, the weapon rock steady in her hands. She was going for a head shot, taking no chance that the stranger might be concealing a weapon of his own.

  Henrique began to move slowly, his feet weaving a strange pattern on the cobblestones in the courtyard. He looked like a stick figure, ugly and evil, something out of a horror film. Lucian seemed not to turn, yet he remained facing Henrique at all times. Jaxon found the movement of the stranger’s feet fascinating. She leaned farther out over the wrought-iron railing in order to see better. The rain plastered her shaggy mop of hair to her head. Raindrops hung on her long eyelashes, and the wind blew water into her eyes. But once more the weather served to help Jaxon free herself from the strange enthrallment the stranger’s movements produced in her. The gun was once more aimed steadily on the stranger’s head. Should he make a move, he would not have the time to hurt Lucian.

  Without warning the stranger’s tall, thin frame contorted. Jaxon fought back a scream as the man became an animal, a wild wolf, patched and maned, sharp fangs filling the jaw thrusting straight at Lucian. Powerful hind legs dug into the stones, allowing the animal to leap at Lucian in an attempt to tear at flesh and arteries.

  Lucian burst into the air so swiftly he was a mere blur. Jaxon tried to compose herself despite the bizarre phenomenon, sighting on the terrible beast. Its fangs were dripping saliva, and the eyes were glowing red with hatred. Thunder was cracking so loudly it was hurting her ears as bolt after bolt of lightning lit the sky. Even as she thought Lucian would come crashing down to the hard stones and the wolf would tear him apart, he landed easily, almost casually, on top of the beast, his hands twisting the head savagely. The crack of its neck was loud in the night air. Then Lucian leaped away from the animal.

  It bellowed loudly, shape-shifting again so that it was once more a man, its head flopping hideously to one side, its discolored teeth snapping and gnashing at Lucian. Jaxon could see that Lucian’s powerful hands had broken its neck, yet the creature was somehow still extremely dangerous. She squeezed the trigger and saw the hole blossom in the center of the repulsive forehead even as Lucian seemed to disappear for a moment.

  Jaxon nearly fainted when she saw Lucian appear right beside the creature. She wanted to scream at him to get away from the awful thing, but her throat was closed with terror, and no sound emerged. To her horror, the beast was still ripping at Lucian with the grotesque talons he had for fingernails. Lucian thrust one arm forward, a powerful blur that buried his fist deeply in the creature’s chest cavity. Jaxon heard a terrible sucking sound, and when Lucian withdrew his hand, in his palm was the creature’s pulsating heart. Lucian leaped back as the body flopped to the ground with a high-pitched scream. Impossibly, the creature wriggled around, the hands stretching greedily toward Lucian. It began to pull itself relentlessly across the cobblestones.

  Intellectually Jaxon knew none of this could be happening—all of it was beyond the scope of reality—but she aimed her gun squarely on the repulsive creature dragging itself toward Lucian. She could see its dark blood spreading like a stain across the cobblestones. Without warning a fiery ball slammed from the sky onto the ghastly, nightmarish figure flopping about in the courtyard, incinerating it. It completely consumed all evidence of the creature and the blood that had been spilled. She watched as Lucian casually tossed the heart into the flames and then held his hands over the fire. The blood staining his skin was gone as if it had never been, yet, miraculously, he was not burned. Jaxon stared down at the scene below. The storm was passing, the wind carrying the ashes off to the south. And then there was only Lucian standing alone in the courtyard. He turned and looked straight up at Jaxon.

  She couldn’t breathe. She could only stand there staring at him with her mouth open. She realized she was still aiming her gun. The thought entered her head to shoot him. Had she gone crazy, or had he done impossible things? She was already backing into the house. It would take him only a few minutes to make his way from the courtyard back into the house, and he knew the grounds and the layout of the building, while she did not. Jaxon ran lightly down the stairs and turned in the opposite direction from the courtyard. Almost immediately she spotted a door. Jerking it open, she ran out into the darkness of the night. She sought high ground, somewhere she could conceal herself but observe if he was moving toward her. But she ran straight into what appeared to be a solid wall.

  Instantly she was steadied by two strong hands. Lucian was standing in front of her—another impossibility. No way could he have gotten from the courtyard to where she was that fast. The whole house had been between them.

  Jaxon attempted to bring the gun around to point at him. She heard his soft laughter very close to her ear.

  “I do not think that is a very good idea for either of us, honey.” He swept the gun from her hand, taking possession easily, and swung her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, his upper body leaning forward to shelter her from the rain. “You do not obey very well, do you?” He asked it with that same note of mild amusement that always did something peculiar to her heart.

  “I want to leave.” She was trembling so hard her teeth chattered, uncertain whether it was from the cold and rain or her fear of Lucian and of what he was. Because, clearly, he was no ordinary man. No matter that he was handsome and sexy and had a beautiful voice.

  He moved rapidly into the house. Behind them the door closed firmly. “I told you to stay in bed.”

  “I wanted to help.” She buried her face against his shoulder because there was nowhere else to go, and she was freezing and scared and exhausted. He was warm and strong and gave her the impression that he could manage anything easily. He gave her the feeling that she was safe with him. “I couldn’t let you face whatever was out there by yourself.” To her horror, it came out as an apology.

  “You man
aged to scare yourself to death,” he observed without inflection.

  She raised her head and glared at him accusingly. “

  I

  didn’t do it. What

  was

  that thing? I shot it straight through the head. You broke its neck. Even after you ripped out its heart—and don’t even tell me how you managed that—the thing kept coming for you.”

  “It was a vampire.” He said it softly, as he said everything, calmly, matter-of-factly.

  Everything in Jaxon went still. Even her breath seemed to cease. She wanted to believe there was no such thing, but what she had witnessed was undeniable. Her breath came out in a long hiss as she held up a hand. “Don’t tell me any more. Nothing. I don’t want to hear another word.”

  “Your heart is beating too fast, Jaxon,” Lucian pointed out gently. He pushed open the door to the large bathroom with one elegantly shod foot.

  “Answer me this one thing. Am I in a sanitarium? If I’ve lost my mind, it’s okay to tell me. I think I want to know at least that much.”

  “You are being silly,” he said softly in his black-velvet voice.

  She closed her eyes to get away from him, from the tremendous power he seemed to wield over her. Due to the fact that she was freezing and weak and he had her gun, the only real attack that might work long enough to free her would be to go for his eyes. But he had extraordinarily beautiful eyes. It would be such a shame to ruin them. She didn’t know if she could force herself to do such a thing.

  She heard his laugh then, low and intimate.

  Thank God for the gift of my beautiful eyes. I would not want you to attempt to do something so terrible to me

  .

  Her long lashes flew open, and she stared up at him more in accusation than astonishment. “You can read my thoughts! That’s how you knew which door I chose to run out of. You read my thoughts!”