He was way too appealing.
“The topic is—” She cleared her throat. “I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I’m here to work on the stone.”
“Right.” He nodded.
“The idea of any kind of … um … personal relationship is probably not a good idea.”
“Probably?”
“Not a good idea,” she reiterated. “Not just because I’m working for you. Also because, well, it’s not a good idea. No romance.”
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”
“A bit, yes.” She held her breath, then made herself softly exhale. “I’m not cut out for romance. It doesn’t work for me. Because of who—what—I am.”
“So Stone Singers have to be alone?”
“I have no idea; I’m the only Stone Singer I know. But my one attempt at romance ended in disaster.” She met his gaze with what she hoped was firm resolve. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Relationships, well, they just don’t work for me.”
“So let me get this straight.” He sat up, leaning forward. “Your husband had a passive power, and you are one of the most powerful Channelers out there.”
“Yes.”
“Did Michael want to control your power?”
“How did—” She bit back the anger, took a breath, and spoke more calmly. “It bothered him that he didn’t have a more active power, something cool and flashy. That’s understandable.”
“It is.” He covered one of her fists with his hand and eased her fingers open. “He sounds like he was competitive.”
“Oh, yeah.” She let him spread her fingers apart, turn over her hand until theirs were palm to palm. “He was competitive.”
“I’m just taking a guess here, so let me know if I’m out of line.”
She couldn’t look away. “Okay.”
“I suspect that he was jealous of you.”
The words stung as if he’d ripped a Band-Aid from her flesh. Tears sprang up from nowhere. She blinked back the sudden moisture and raised her chin. “I tried not to do anything to make him feel that way.”
“Faith.” His lips curved. “I doubt you did anything wrong. Some people feel that way no matter what, and there’s nothing to be done.”
She swallowed and tried to ignore the squeeze in her chest. No one but Ben had ever taken her side before. “Not everyone sees it that way.”
“Did people blame you for his death?”
“Some. Look, enough about this. It’s a painful subject. Back to what I was saying. There’s this thing going on between us, and I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. There’s about a hundred reasons why we should ignore this.”
“Like?”
“Oh, come on. You’re a Seer.”
“And you’re a Channeler. So?”
She scoffed. “Seers are … well, they’re—”
“The bogeymen?”
“Well, the way you say it makes it sound ridiculous.”
“It is, kind of.” He linked their fingers together. “It’s like saying you can’t go out with me because I have blue eyes.” She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up his other hand. “Listen, I get it. You were raised to think the Seers are evil. But we’re not, so let’s toss that idea, okay? What else you got?”
“Well, I’m working for you. That sort of makes you the boss.”
“Technically, my father is paying you, so he’s your boss. You and I are more like coworkers. Office romance. Next?”
“I barely know you.”
“You’re living in my family’s house. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Besides…” He held up their clasped hands. “We survived the Stone of Ekhia together.”
“Igarle.” At his inquiring look, she clarified, “All three of the stones together are the Stones of Ekhia, but each one has an individual name. They’re Igarle, Gerlari, and Eraldatu. You have Igarle in your possession, the stone of the Prophets.”
“Prophets, huh?”
“Seers, actually. Gerlari, the Warriors; Eraldatu, the Channelers.”
“Is this your way of changing the subject?”
“No, I just—” She shut her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Avoiding it won’t make it go away.” He traced her palm with his thumb. “Look, I wasn’t necessarily looking for this, either.”
“We should just ignore it. There’s no good way for this to end.”
“Are you certain of that? Seems to me if we go into this whatever-it-is with eyes open, we should be fine.” He squeezed her fingers. “You and I, we’re a lot alike. We both gambled by doing things the right way with people we thought were the right ones. In both cases, it ended badly. That doesn’t mean we should cash in our chips and leave the table.”
“Your fiancée didn’t die.”
“But your husband did. I know you don’t want to tell me the story, at least not yet, but based on what I know about you, I would wager it wasn’t your fault.”
“You’re big with the gambling metaphors today.”
“I’m not going to let you change the subject, Faith. You’ve given me a list of reasons why we should ignore this attraction between us. I’m going to give you one reason why we shouldn’t.”
He bent his head, staring at her mouth with bone-melting intensity. As he leaned in, she knew the smart thing to do was run.
Instead, she waited to see what it felt like to kiss a Seer.
* * *
He was dying to taste her.
Darius couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it started, but somehow in the last twenty-four hours, somewhere between the Mendukati attack and his physical burnout, Faith had taken over the bulk of his thoughts. Sure, she was cute and, hey, powerful, but he suspected it was her emotional reaction to him that had ensnared him like a honeybee to a sunflower. Her genuine attraction soaked his senses and left him half drunk and wanting more.
He leaned closer, watching to see if she pulled away, empathy alert for the slightest hint that he’d misread her. But she sat firm, watching him come. Anticipation rippled over him, both from her and from himself, jacking up his pulse. She licked her lips, and he tugged her closer by their joined hands and brushed her lips with his.
It was a gentle kiss, an exploration more than a demand, yet the snap of connection between them struck like a hammer to steel. He physically jolted, nearly breaking the kiss, then cupped the back of her head with his free hand and sank into the taste and feel of her. Her stiff spine slowly relaxed, and her fingers, tangled with his, tightened and then eased. She opened for him, letting him explore. He could sense her curiosity, her tentative excitement. It fed his own hunger.
He slid further into their shared passion, intoxicated with the pure sweetness of her response, touching the mating bond and gliding along its silky length. He wondered if she sensed it yet. What she would do when she did.
She broke the kiss, flattening her hand against his chest when he would have leaned in again. Her eyes shone, her cheeks flushed an adorable pink, and her shaky breaths brushed his damp lips. “Someone’s calling you.”
He listened, heard Tessa calling his name, let out a sigh. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Faith’s and sent a mental question. What is it, Tess?
He hadn’t tried to conceal his impatience at being disturbed, and he could sense Tessa’s surprise and pique. Dad said to come up now if you want s’mores. If you’re not too busy, that is.
We’ll be up in a minute.
I’m timing you, came the snarky reply.
He ignored his sister and focused on the woman in his arms. “Time for s’mores, if you still want some.”
She sighed, half reluctant. “That might be a good idea. This was … unexpected.”
“And new, and we should take it slow and all that, right?”
“Probably a good idea, considering.”
“Okay.” He gestured toward the path. “Ladies first.”
She rose and waited as he got up and
took his cane from where he’d hooked it over the arm of the bench. He held out a hand. She hesitated.
“Too early for hand-holding?” he asked. “We were just necking on the bench there.”
Her color deepened. “It was one kiss.”
“A hell of a kiss. Come here.” He took her hand and pulled her closer. “It’s fine if you want to take this slow and not share it with everyone up there.”
She nodded. “I think that’s smart. It’s all kind of fast.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Tomorrow morning around nine work for you?”
“To work with the stone?” At his nod, she said, “Nine’s fine.”
“Can’t wait.” He grinned. “Then we can be alone … you, me, and the stone.”
“Heck of a chaperone.”
He barked a laugh. “Go on, head up. I’ll be right behind you.”
She headed toward the path and said over her shoulder, “I suspect the reason men always let women go first is so they can check them out from behind.”
“Of course.”
She giggled, an unusually flirtatious sound for her, and started up the path. He picked his way more slowly in her wake. He wanted to delay reuniting with his family for a few moments longer, to pretend there wasn’t all this tension and that he and Faith could explore this passion between them in peace and at their own pace. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Too many very real obstacles lay in their path, and he had to navigate them carefully. Faith had been used so many times in her life, and her willingness to pursue a romantic interest was yet fragile. He would have to step carefully to avoid scaring her away.
Then there was the consideration of the mate link. That connection had proven an effective weapon for Rafe and Cara when Jain Criten had come calling, and he couldn’t ignore the practical aspect of cultivating it. But he preferred to think of that as a free gift with purchase rather than the main reason for getting closer to Faith.
He thought about Michael and the scars he had left on Faith, the damage from manipulation and betrayal. He had no intention of being the next man in her life who used her for her power. He wanted so much more than that, so much that was uniquely her. But she reminded him again of those abused women he’d worked with in the shelters, and he knew that it took a lot to come back from that mindset. It would take both time and patience. He had plenty of patience, but they were running short on time.
He still didn’t know exactly how Michael had died and what role Faith had played, but from where he sat, it was a good thing the bastard was dead.
Because otherwise, Darius would have had to kill him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thunder crashed, echoing off the walls of the shining citadel at the center of the mighty metropolis. Lightning ripped across the sky. Waves swelled above the buildings of the city, only to smash down like Poseidon’s own wrathful hand, sweeping away everything in their wake. Ships split like kindling, the harbor gone without a trace. The ocean boiled.
The earth shrieked, stone and soil crumbling like ash. Those who could scurried to what boats they might find, praying they would yet escape. The marauding tide scooped up everything not fast enough to flee and even some that were: elephants and horses and merchant ships from afar. Blazing red light shot into the sky from the temple, fire without flame.
Atlantis shattered, its very foundations ripped from the earth, its glorious walls and palaces and harbors cracking into rubble, sinking into an abyss of mud and sea. All its glory, all its knowledge, lost.
But like dandelion seeds on the wind, some few escaped, drifting away on friendly tides, dodging debris and destruction to begin anew far from home.…
Faith woke with a gasp. It was dark. Her heart raced, and her mouth was dry. She gulped for air. Though she’d kicked the covers from the bed, fine sweat misted her skin. Her tattoos throbbed and her limbs trembled as if she’d been running.
Or trying to escape a cataclysm.
The smooth sheets beneath her palms reminded her of where she was. The Montana house. Arizona, not Atlantis.
She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, reaching for the bottle of water she kept on her nightstand. Her throat burned as if she’d been trapped in a fire, or struggling for air beneath a merciless sea. Unscrewing the cap, she chugged back several long swallows, then pressed the bottle against her hot forehead. The plastic was cool from the air conditioning.
A dream. Just a dream.
She glanced over to the window, where the light from the lamps along the driveway below cast a soft glow into her room. No fire. No lightning, no thunder. No tidal waves. No getting swallowed by the earth forever.
Where had the dream come from?
Memories, came the whisper through her mind.
She knew that ancient rasp: the Stone of Igarle. She reached for the stone, just a feather-light touch. Whose memories?
Mine.
She took a slow, deep breath. Most stones absorbed some emotion from the humans who handled them, but she’d never heard of one that recorded events without a human link. Then again, she’d never encountered anything like this stone before.
You woke me, it whispered. So long have I slept, never to touch another since the Before Time. Then you were there, after so long. So very long …
Pressure crushed down on her chest, and her tattoos flared anew. She tried to sever the connection, but the stone clung to her like a drowning man to driftwood, sucked her in further. Swamped her with its anguish. A sob erupted from her throat. So black. So alone. Eons passing, each the same as the one before. Her eyes flooded, and tears overflowed down her cheeks. Always alone. Shouting, yet never heard. The most torturous of existences, cut off from contact with anyone or anything.
So much to share. So much to tell.
Her muscles contracted in unyielding spasms, forcing her to curl into herself, clasping her knees. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Cramped. Dark. Too much to say and no one to hear. Until now.
Images crashed into her consciousness, one after the other. She gasped for breath, tried to keep up. But the deluge hammered her brain like hard summer rain against a tin roof. Relentless. Too much at once. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t understand. She struggled to focus, but control slipped from her shaky grasp.
Darius, she whispered in her mind.
* * *
Darius burst out of his room in the guesthouse, hurrying along the pool toward the main house as fast as his damned knee would allow. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and the night echoed the black anguish that had awoken him from a sound sleep, flooding his empathic senses and filling his mouth with the essence of burned coffee and rotten vegetables. Then the darkness had cut off, leaving him panting and sweaty with cold dread weighing in his gut. He’d reached for Faith out of instinct. Nothing. She’d vanished from his empathic radar.
Until she whispered his name.
He’d thrown on shorts and a T-shirt and scrambled out of his room. His body protested the impatient pace he demanded, but still he forged on, searching for the mate link. He found it, a frail, quivering silver strand. Good, she was alive. He grabbed hold of it, wrapped it around his own essence, and used it as a rope in the storm to guide him home.
Guide him to Faith.
He made it to the house, ignored his nemesis—the stairs—and went for the elevator. Whatever would get him to her faster. When he finally flung open the door to her room, his heart nearly stopped.
Faith was curled in a fetal position on the bed, shaking, her face pale and her eyes wide and cloudy. Tears gleamed on her cheeks in the dim light from the hallway.
“Faith.” He said her name, with his voice and with his mind. He sat on the bed and reached for her. She remained curled in that ball, and his attempts to straighten her stiff limbs met with no success. Her muscles seemed to be locked in this rigid form, and he didn’t dare try to force it, lest he hurt her.
He hauled her into his lap as s
he was, wrapping his arms around her, and followed the mate link into a maelstrom of memories.
His normal empathy had shut down. Everything he got, he received through the mating bond with Faith. Anguish. Desolation. But not from her. From the Stone of Igarle.
The sheer magnitude of the stone’s longing for contact smothered like a wool blanket on a hot summer day. Darius pushed his way through the emotional muck as if he swam in a strong current, the bright light that was Faith flickering in the distance. He sent reassurance along the mate link, hoping to reach her. Hoping it would make a difference.
The stone must have sensed what he was doing. The black sludge grew thicker, swirling around him like tar, weighing down his arms and legs. The muck slipped into his nose and throat, drowning him. He tried to shove aside the black ooze, but it piled on even more. He couldn’t walk, could barely move, could hardly breathe.
They had to break this connection.
Faith. Let go!
* * *
Faith heard Darius from a distance. She turned in a circle, disoriented by the tar pit–like wasteland where she found herself. How had she gotten here?
Darius?
She saw him now, far away, just as she had seen him the last time the stone had entangled her. He gave off a blue glow, with a silver ribbon leading back to him, but he was in trouble. The black goo of the stone’s toxic emotions had piled on him from his feet to his chin, trapping his arms at his sides. She ran toward him, following the ribbon and dodging piles of stagnant, seething, ancient emotions. This was the second time the stone had captured her, and this time she wasn’t even touching it.
It was more powerful than she’d thought. And it was ticking her off.
Faith. Darius called to her again. Follow the link. It will lead you home.
The stone protested. No! Stay. I have so much to tell you, so much to show you.
But Faith dodged the new tentacles that tried to wrap around her and headed for the blue light that was Darius.
When she reached him, the ooze had crept up his chin to his mouth. He kept spitting it out, his gaze on her. He couldn’t talk without swallowing the stuff. She shoved her hands into the muck covering his chest, against his heart, and began to sing.
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