“We’ll get you out of here,” Lark said, pulling her gloves from her pockets so that she could handle the iron restraints.
“Wait,” Haven said. “If you release me, every soldier in this mountain will descend on you.”
“But your blood will open the gates,” Lark said. “We can’t let the Dark Queen have you.”
To her horror, he laughed—a dry sound that scraped over her nerves. “Look around you. The Dark Queen has me in every way possible. My essence is what’s fuelling this whole place.”
Lark’s gaze slid over the tubes hooked into ports in Haven’s veins. Clear saline was going in, as one would see in any hospital. But the tube coming out held tiny, individual globes of light suspended in a clear liquid. For a crazy moment, Lark thought of tiny Christmas lights—until she realized what she was looking at. Her grandfather had blazed his light all at once, burning in one mighty effort until it killed him, but Haven’s essence was flowing from his arm to machines ranged at the head of the platform, one tiny drop at a time. The fey’s natural strength would keep him healing faster than a mortal—for a while. But no one could survive being drained forever.
“They’re draining his life,” Lark said, despair creeping into her voice, “The same fey energy that went into keeping the Dark Fey contained is being reversed here, used to help free them.”
Haven nodded, his gaze darting feverishly from Lark to Jack. “They don’t have the gems used in the ritual, so they can’t blast the gates open, but through me they can crack them a little at a time.”
“Are the Blackthorns in communication with Selena?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” said Haven. “I’ve heard them talk. They behave as if I’m not here.”
Because Haven was as good as dead. They wouldn’t let him live an hour beyond his usefulness.
“We won’t leave you behind,” Lark said firmly.
“Lexie?” the fey asked, his voice faint.
“She’s safe,” said Jack. “She’s going to be married.”
Married. Lark’s mind filled with the image of Kenyon captive. There was a child on the way, too. A sick feeling rolled through her, but she kept her emotions off her face.
Haven squeezed his eyes shut. “I knew they were after her. The only way I could protect her was to put myself in their path.”
“And she is fine,” said Jack in a gentle tone. “Your efforts worked.”
It was exactly the right thing to say, but she could tell Haven was weak and tired. Tears slid from under his eyelids, and she leaned forward to brush them away. His skin felt like paper.
“I can’t come with you,” said Haven. “I couldn’t walk, much less run. I am not worth the rescue.”
“Our mission begins with saving you,” said Jack. “But it will end when we stop the Dark Queen.”
“Then, leave me where I am.” His voice regained a tiny bit of strength as he said it. “If you succeed in destroying her, I’ll count the price a bargain.”
He was right, but Lark didn’t like the fact one bit. The idea of leaving Haven behind made her chest ache.
“There is a door to the outside near here,” he murmured. “I’ve smelled the green of the forest in the air now and again.”
“Good,” said Jack, encouragement warming his voice. “That’s good information.”
Haven looked feverish, as if giving up the chance of rescue was one blow too many. “There are other prisoners, but the Dark Queen is holding them close to her until she can escape. They’ve taken them through the gates.”
Lark felt suddenly dizzy. “They’re in the Dark Fey realm?”
Haven grew agitated. “The portal is open wide enough to get in, but not out again. Don’t think about securing your passage back with my blood. If you take as much as a drop, they’ll know. The equipment is protected with spells.”
Lark swallowed. They had Lexie’s blood, and they had the ring. “We’ll manage.”
Haven turned his face away. “I wish I could help more.”
“Your job is staying alive.” Lark wasn’t sure how she’d gotten the words out. Her throat was clogged with grief, and leaving him strapped to this infernal machine was going to break her heart.
“We’ll do what we must,” said Jack firmly, “and we’ll come back for you.”
“One promise. Please.” Haven closed his eyes. His voice was fading.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Hurry. The Dark Queen is only the beginning of the danger.”
“What do you mean?” Lark asked, bending close to catch his words—but Haven lost consciousness before he could say more.
Chapter 21
When Lark summoned her magic to put the glamour back on herself and Jack, it felt as if something inside her was tearing apart. After using her ability for so long a stretch, she needed real rest, and that wasn’t going to happen. At least Haven’s information about a nearby exit was correct. The steel double door, complete with panic bars, looked like a delivery entrance from the inside.
“No guards,” Jack said. “I don’t see any cameras.”
Lark gratefully released the glamour again. She put a hand to her aching head. White lights were dancing through her vision, the first sour hints of nausea creeping up the back of her throat. “What about alarms?”
Jack was carefully examining the door frame. “Just a sturdy lock.” He bent to work on it. There wasn’t much he couldn’t pick.
The sound of footsteps penetrated her thoughts. “I think the guards were making their rounds again. They’re a way off, but they’re coming in this direction.” She took a breath, pushing panic to the side as best she could.
“How’s your head?” Jack asked, still poking at the lock.
“Not great.” She kept her voice steady, though her stomach lurched on a queasy bubble.
At that moment the lock clicked. Jack straightened. “Piece of cake.”
And it should have been their first clue that something was wrong.
The door opened to a lot of night sky, the stars a dizzying blanket so close they seemed touchable. There was an immediate drop to a rushing river so far below that the trees on its banks looked like a lumpy dark carpet.
“It’s their waste-disposal system,” Jack said without emotion.
Lark shifted her backpack uneasily. She could hear the footsteps clearly now—at least two guards, maybe more. She couldn’t see them yet, but they’d be there any second. “Now what?”
He smiled, but he wasn’t happy. “Don’t scream.”
Alarm numbed her for a split second. “What?”
Jack grabbed her tight, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her so tight that he nearly choked the breath from her lungs. And then he hurled them both through the door and into a sickening, horrible plunge.
Terror was a poor word for the frozen blank of Lark’s mind. All she could see was the sky wheeling overhead, the thick carpet of stars swirling as they fell. Icy mountain air rushed past, deafening her and clawing at the skin of her face. Blood pounded in her like a clock ticking down her seconds left to live, but with each beat came another sensation. Something dark, powerful and other surged from Jack like a crackling mist. Magic, certainly, but nothing she’d encountered before. Despite hurtling to a certain death below, every nerve in her body sang in response to him.
A split second later, their fall became a tumble and they were spinning and rolling, end over end. Jack was still grasping her close, his hard grip painful as they were flung through space. Lark squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as if her insides were shaking loose when they thumped into something solid. Jack took the brunt of the shock, but then they were rolling, one over the other, at least a dozen times until the rising ground slowed them to a stop.
Jack still held her, his thickly muscled arms p
ressing her to his chest. She was lying on the ground, her left hip digging into the ground. Logic said it wasn’t moving, but her head still spun.
Lark cracked open her eyes and rolled to her back. The stars shone above, interrupted by a few tree branches. Wow. There wasn’t much else to think.
Slowly, she sat up, letting her stomach settle and taking stock of their position. She could see the mountain where they’d been, but it was at least a mile away. Lark looked around in confusion. There had been a broad, fast-flowing river below the door when they’d jumped. They were on the other side of it now. They hadn’t just fallen, but traveled across the water. They’d flown.
Suddenly Jack moved, the action as quick as a pouncing lion. Lark turned to see him, doubled over as if his stomach ached. Alarmed, she crawled over to where he was kneeling. His head was bowed, giving no indication he was aware of her approach.
“Jack?” She reached out to touch his arm. “Are you hurt?”
He flinched as if stung. And then he looked up, and Lark’s entire body turned to ice.
His eyes looked as if they’d trapped the stars. They shone with a cold, remote light, piercing and inhuman. It was as if a different presence had suddenly taken Jack’s place and was looking at her now with an intelligence far older than even the fey, and far more powerful.
She’d seen those eyes before, most recently in his dream. Her scalp crawled with fear, and she snatched her hand back. “Asteriel?”
“At your service.” The voice was Jack’s, but the way he spoke was subtly different. More precise, as if he didn’t get much practice speaking. Then the brilliance of his eyes softened as if a filter had been slid in front of so much light.
Shock throbbed through Lark and she sagged back onto her heels, battered by the power that rolled off Jack like a surf. This was the creature she’d seen in New York the night she’d stabbed him. It wasn’t threatening her now, but she still felt the skin along her arms prickle with fear. But not just fear—there was a darkly magnetic pull to him, as if he tugged on a string that went right to her core. Demon Jack was undeniably sexual.
His gaze was amused. “You always wanted to know what made Jack so strong a vampire. Here I am. Your lover was never bitten, but blended from pure essence of demon.”
“Give him back.” Even his scent was rich with desire. This close to him, she felt as if she were still hurtling through the air, the ground nowhere to be found.
Jack’s smile flashed in the dark. “You make it sound like this is some bargain-basement possession. It’s nothing of the kind. We have a gentlemen’s agreement.”
“And deals with demons always end so well.” Lark swallowed, not sure what to do. Memories of his hand around her throat crawled through her mind. “Why did you save me just now?”
“That shining knight is still part of me.”
“Where is he right now?”
The demon wearing Jack’s face reached out, brushing the hair from her eyes. It was a gesture she knew well and, more than any other evidence, made it clear just how much the Fallen was part of the man she knew. “He will be back as soon as I am done. Since you know our secret, you and I must have words.”
Her flesh chilled. “About what?”
His eyebrows gave a playful lift, but his tone was serious. “First, you must understand that it is my choice to give him control in return for sharing his life. Life is important to me because it is my only chance for change, but the stakes are real and they are high. If Jack is destroyed, then so am I. If I fail to redeem myself, I am damned forever. This partnership is my only chance to change my fate.”
Lark caught her breath. His star-bright gaze bored into her, searching every feature. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“You changed the game when you stabbed us.”
Alarm froze her. Lark remembered him holding the knife in Jack’s dream. “How?”
He answered so softly, it sounded apologetic. “You opened the way for me to take control. The truth spell on the blade means he cannot hide me anymore. Not if I give in to temptation.”
Lark’s mouth went dry. “Is that why his control is slipping?”
“Yes.”
A wave of sick realization made Lark reel. She buried her face in her hands. “No wonder he doesn’t want to forgive me.”
“No man wishes to show the woman he loves that he is truly a monster. At the same time, a man needs a little monster when it comes to a fight.”
“And there will be a fight.”
“Yes, and then the temptation to be what I am, terrible and ripe with power, may destroy all that we have achieved after so many years together.”
And it was so much. As a star agent of the Company, Jack had saved more lives and righted more wrongs than anyone Lark could name. He could be inflexible, maddening and difficult, but he was unquestionably good.
And possibly she had undone the salvation of his darker half. Lark had no idea how to answer, but hid her face with her hands, wishing the earth would swallow her. Was there no end to the evil she had wrought that night in New York?
Never mind Jack forgiving her. Would she ever forgive herself?
A long time passed before Lark felt gentle fingers pull her hands away from her face.
“Are you all right? Were you hurt when we fell?” he asked. And this was the Jack she knew. Asteriel was gone.
“I’m fine.” Lark felt tears on her face, their heat almost burning against the chill air. “I’m not fine. I’ve caused you so much pain.”
He was silent, a shadow against the backdrop of stars. His eyes had faded back to their normal hue, but now they held profound confusion. “Tell me what happened.”
“You saved us. You flew, not floating like Mark Winspear. You flew us across the river.”
He let go of her hands, rising to lean against a tree. He looked exhausted. “I remember that part. It was the conversation afterward that’s fuzzy.”
She got to her feet, forcing herself not to weave. She could still feel the motion of their dizzying flight like a fading afterimage. The urge to beg forgiveness welled inside, but so did a sudden fear she didn’t deserve it. She ducked her head, grabbing instead for a simple question. “Does Asteriel always appear to you wearing your face?”
“Demons and angels can appear in any form they please.” He made an abrupt, impatient gesture. “Our backpacks are gone. The straps broke in the force of the fall.”
She didn’t care about the packs, but understood the conversation was done. “We’ll manage. I don’t think we have much time to worry about supplies anyway.”
Jack went still. She could feel the energy between them shift subtly. Instinctively, she knew he was lowering his guard a degree. “I’m sorry.”
Lark frowned. “For what?”
“I’m not what you thought.” His voice was tight.
“You’re exactly who you’ve always been to me.” She drew closer, wanting to see his expression. His features were washed in starlight, the clean lines stern and beautiful. Maybe that was one reason why he’d been chosen by the Fallen—he looked the part. “I’ve known who you are for years. You’re the one who saw what I could be when I walked through the doors of the Company. You made me think better of myself.”
Lark didn’t give Jack a chance to argue. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek, a featherlight touch of breath and skin. “Tonight you saved my life. There is no need for apologies or explanations.”
Jack’s reaction was instant. Suddenly it was her leaning against the tree, his arms trapping her on either side. All at once, his demon didn’t seem so very far below the surface. He leaned in, his forehead touching hers. “Remember, there is a part of me that is a shark biding its time in an all-too-flimsy net.”
“Remember, I
like sushi.”
“Hmm.” He kissed her eyelids, then her lips, and she felt the walls between them melt away. His mouth was soft and needy on hers, drawing her in with the slow, sweet magic of a man who was entirely in the moment.
He stepped into the embrace, no longer leaning but letting his hands slide up her sides, careful and possessive. She could see his eyes now, the sweep of lashes where they touched his cheek. She knew the architecture of his face well enough, but now he seemed different, as if every feature had undergone a subtle shift.
“Jack?” she murmured.
“What?”
“Don’t you think there will be guards from the mountain looking for us? We left the door open when we fell.”
His eyes flashed, echoes of Asteriel. “Why should they assume it was intruders? They’ll put it down to someone’s carelessness. Even if they do suspect something, how many people do you think survive a fall from that doorway? They won’t waste the manpower looking for trespassers who should have tumbled to their death.”
“That sounds overconfident.”
“They couldn’t spot us inside their own facility. What makes you think they’ll find us in the wilderness?”
She heard the defiance in his voice, a predator’s taunt against the hunters who dared to try to cage him. The demon wasn’t far beneath the surface, and it wanted to flex its muscles—mission and danger be damned.
“We barely escaped with our lives,” she pointed out.
“Then, celebrate.” He nipped her ear, his body warm with sexual heat. “Let me show you how.”
“Jack, shouldn’t we be moving...”
“How come you can still talk?” His mouth moved to the angle of her jaw.
Lark held her breath, fascinated and wary. Jack’s control was shredding before her eyes, the demon pushing to the surface to claim its due. She could run or she could surrender, and both seemed perilous choices.
Jack’s fingers trailed over the arch of her collarbone, tracing it as if he was committing it to memory. His movements were unhurried, almost mesmerized. He brushed her breasts lightly, as if marking his territory for later. His touch did something to her insides, sweeping every other thought away. All at once time and urgency meant nothing. She was his task of the moment, and he wouldn’t be rushed. She didn’t want to try.
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