Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  The battle began, instantly raging out of control. Through the killer’s mind, she felt each blow, tasted the pain, fighting on three fronts until they slipped past his defenses. Pain, pain, and more pain. Must not let Ranulf get his hands on him—not if he wanted to survive. Then Sandor, his old friend and new enemy, latched on to his mind, digging his fingers into the killer’s face and holding on with mindless fury.

  No! No! The darkness was his, not Sandor’s! He fought to hold on to his treasure. But starting as a trickle, then building to a roaring flood, the sweet blackness he’d worked so hard to gather poured out of his mind, out of his body, and into Sandor. Ranulf stole some, too, but it was Sandor who sucked the well dry, draining it all away. Slowly, painfully, he felt himself shrinking, disappearing. He died in agony as he crumbled to the floor.

  Then there was nothing left but dust, and someone screaming a name. Lena’s name. Over and over, until the insistent noise pulled her back into her own mind.

  “Damn it, Lena. Wake up and open your eyes!”

  She blinked and shivered. She’d never been so cold, so scared. What had just happened? The nightmare had been worse than anything else she’d ever experienced.

  “Come on, honey, talk to me,” Sandor coaxed. “Wake up, Lena. Please wake up.”

  She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t really asleep, but she couldn’t speak. Because if she put words to what had just happened, she’d have to admit the nightmare hadn’t been a dream at all, but real. The details might not make sense yet, but what she’d seen had really happened.

  Which meant she’d spent the night in the arms of a killer.

  Chapter 9

  What the hell had just happened? One minute he and Lena had been cocooned in the blankets, then in an instant she’d gone from calm and cuddly to terrified and thrashing about. Her skin had a blue cast to it and she was freezing cold; her teeth chattered as she stayed snared in a nightmare.

  And it was all his damn fault. He’d let his guard down. She’d been almost purring with contentment when she’d first touched the Thor’s hammer branded on his right bicep. The symbol contained its own powers, which the average human wouldn’t have been able to tap into, but Lena was anything but average.

  Her face was contorted by horror and fear. What was she seeing? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he had his suspicions. He had to do something to snap her out of the nightmare. Even with the heavy pile of blankets, she shook with cold.

  Maybe a hot bath. He left long enough to turn on the water in the oversized claw-foot tub and throw in some lavender bath salts, hoping the calming scent would help. When the water was the right temperature, he hurried back to the bed and wrestled the still-thrashing woman up into his arms.

  He did his best to cushion Lena’s descent into the tub. He climbed in behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. Gradually she stopped moving, although her muscles and joints still thrummed with an overload of energy. Every so often he turned on the faucet to keep the temperature of the water hot enough.

  If she didn’t snap out of it soon, he’d have to force his way into her mind and break the connection, though he wasn’t sure what the consequences would be. Murmuring soft words of comfort and stroking her arms and back with his hands, he gradually drew off small jolts of energy from her until at last she sighed and sank back against him in a boneless heap.

  His relief didn’t last long, because as soon as Lena recovered she was going to start asking questions. And there was no telling what she’d do if she didn’t like his answers.

  Finally, Lena struggled to sit up. Against his better judgment, he let go of her and tried not to let it hurt so much when she immediately scooted to the far end of the tub. When she turned to face him, her eyes went from foggy and unfocused to eagle sharp in a heartbeat. There was no warmth, no understanding, just cold revulsion and fury.

  “Just what in the hell are you?” Lena snarled. “I saw what you did.” She scrambled out of the tub. Pain blossomed deep in his chest, making it impossible to draw a full breath. Once she was out of the room, he went after her.

  He found her snatching up her scattered clothing. Without a word, he opened a dresser drawer and pulled out two pairs of sweats. He tossed one set to her.

  “Here, put these on. They’ll be too big for you, but they’re warmer than your dress will be. I’ll be downstairs.” Knowing she wouldn’t be happy until he was out of sight, he waited until he reached the landing before getting dressed.

  After he ground some coffee beans and filled the coffeemaker with fresh water, he reached for the phone. He hesitated over which number to dial and quickly decided on the Viking’s.

  He didn’t even wait for Ranulf to speak. “I’m in the middle of a major cluster fuck. Get over here.” Then he hung up.

  What was taking Lena so long? Even if she’d refused his offer of warmer clothing, she should’ve been dressed by now. He fought the need to go back upstairs to check on her, not wanting her to feel cornered. He’d already hurt her enough.

  If he lived to be a million years old, he’d never forget the pure loathing in her eyes. His gut ached with the need to comfort her, even though he knew she’d throw the offer right back in his face.

  The stairs creaked. Good. She was coming down. He headed for the living room, not wanting her to escape without talking to him. He had to know what she was going to do with the knowledge she’d absorbed directly from his soul. It was too much to hope that she would merely take satisfaction in knowing Coop’s killer had died and let the matter lie.

  He hovered near the front door as she reached the last step. “I set a bag there for your clothing.” He pointed to a nearby table. “Coffee is almost ready.”

  She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “I’m leaving now. And I don’t want you following me.”

  “I understand that you’re upset, but at least let me fix you some breakfast.”

  Her laugh was nasty. “Upset? That’s putting it mildly. I’m furious.”

  “Okay, I get that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But we still need to talk about what happened up there. Afterward, you can drive my sedan back to your hotel. You can leave the keys at the front desk if you don’t want to see me when I pick it up later.”

  He tossed her the keys, hoping they’d give her some sense of control over the situation.

  She hesitated briefly, then nodded. “You talk. I’ll listen. If I don’t like what I’m hearing, I’m out of here.”

  “Come on into the kitchen. I make more sense when I’ve eaten.” He walked through the dining room, feeling relieved when he heard her footsteps behind him.

  He went to the fridge and began pulling out ingredients for omelets, then reached for a couple of mugs and poured coffee. After setting Lena’s within easy reach for her, he began chopping veggies. As long as she was staring at the blur of his knife, she wasn’t looking at him with those pain-filled eyes or running for the door.

  “That’s an awful lot of eggs for two people. How soon are they getting here?”

  He should’ve expected that. This woman investigated crimes for a living, and had a knack for deciphering clues and body language. “Soon enough.”

  “Why did you call Kerry? To have her kill my memory like you did the other night?”

  That one he hadn’t expected. “I won’t apologize for that, Lena. The cops were coming, and the last thing either of us needed was for you to start talking weirdness in front of them.”

  He started juicing oranges.

  “But you admit that you messed with my mind.”

  He slowly turned to face her. “Yes, damn it, I did.”

  She glared from across the counter. “So tell me, Sandor—how much did you mess with my mind to get me to go to bed with you last night?”

  Okay, now she’d gone too damn far! “Don’t you dare cheapen what happened between us! That’s an insult to both of us and to what we shared.”

 
She held her ground as he rounded the corner and stood toe-to-toe with her, his hands fisted at his sides to keep from touching her.

  “Let’s get this straight, Lena Wilson. You ended up naked in my bed because that’s right where you wanted to be. And for the record, I wasn’t the only one screaming for more, and I’ve got your scratches on my ass to prove it!”

  She gasped with outrage. “That just proves my point. I’ve never acted that way with anyone else.”

  “And you think my life’s been filled with mind-blowing sex like that? Do you have any idea how rare a night like that is?”

  “But if it wasn’t real—”

  “Believe me, babe, this is as real as it gets!” He swooped down to capture her lips with his, holding her prisoner between his body and the counter. She opened her mouth to protest, but he immediately deepened the kiss and cupped her bottom, lifting her against his erection.

  Hell’s fire, was there anything more seductive than a strong woman in full temper? Damned if it didn’t make him want her even more. At first she struggled to break free, but then she growled—growled!—in frustration and wrapped her leg around his, increasing the pressure between his cock and the juncture of her thighs.

  He rocked against her, increasing the rhythm. Closer; he had to get closer. His sweats fit her loosely enough to tug down easily, especially when she cooperated. After she kicked them off, he boosted her up onto the counter, smiling against her mouth when she protested the shock of the cold tile on her luscious backside.

  That was all right; he was going to warm her up from the inside out. She pushed his hands out of the way to tug his own pants down. There was still a lot of anger simmering in her, but she cupped his balls with exquisite care and stroked the full length of his cock with obvious relish. The combined sensations had him throwing his head back and begging for the strength to survive the onslaught.

  God, he was going down in flames. If he didn’t wrest control back soon, he was going to finish before they ever really got started. He captured her wrists, then gave her a heated look and slowly licked his lips.

  “Lean back on the counter, honey.”

  Her eyes widened in shock at what he was proposing to do. “Sandor, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think, just feel. Let me do this for you, for us.”

  She leaned back on her elbows as he slowly kissed his way up the inside of her thighs. Oh, yeah, this was going to be good. He loved the small noise she made when he spread her legs wider. This was no time for going slow and coaxing. He worked his lips and tongue hard and fast, driving her up to the edge.

  Then he raised up and positioned his cock against the entrance to her body, frustrating them both by gently rocking forward, careful not to penetrate.

  “Don’t be a tease, Sandor!”

  “Not until you admit you want this, Lena. Just like you did last night.”

  She didn’t want to admit a darn thing; defiance burned in her bright blue eyes. Then she jerked her head in a quick nod. “Yes, you big jerk, I want this. Now!”

  “Damn straight you do!” Then he plunged inside her, staking his claim. It didn’t take much to have both of them straining toward each other, seeking that right touch to end this battle once and for all.

  One, two, three more strokes was all it took. As Lena spun out of control, she clutched him tight and took him flying with her. Together they soared for the heavens, taking their fill of each other in hot pulses of pure pleasure.

  Their flight crash-landed as the front door slammed open. Damn! The cavalry was charging in, and Sandor stood with his pants down around his knees and an angry, half-naked woman in his arms.

  “Ranulf! Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

  He reluctantly withdrew from Lena’s body and her arms, the sensation of loss almost killing him. He picked up her sweats and handed them back to her, then yanked his own up into place. The heat they’d generated was already dissipating, leaving a pain-filled chill between them.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised, risking another quick kiss on her lips. He had to forestall his other guests long enough for Lena to collect herself.

  In the living room, Kerry said, “Sorry to barge in, but it sounded like an emergency. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Unless he was mistaken, the back door had just opened and closed. He should’ve known better than to leave her alone. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “What happened?” Ranulf stepped around his wife.

  “Come on in and I’ll explain over breakfast.” He had to do something to keep from charging out the door after Lena.

  The pair followed him into the kitchen, where they all stood at the window and watched his car disappear down the alley.

  Lena slunk into the hotel in the oversized sweats, with last night’s makeup smeared under her eyes. She looked like a raccoon from hell, and felt even worse.

  In her room, all she wanted to do was jump into bed, pull the covers over her head, and hide from everything and everyone, including herself. She hadn’t gotten much rest last night, and the morning had been…She couldn’t think about that right now. Not until she’d had something to eat and washed Sandor off her skin. God, had they actually had sex on the kitchen counter, and without using protection? How stupid was that, even if she was on the pill?

  If only soap and hot water would remove the taint of his darkness from her memory. She wanted to believe what he’d said about messing with her mind only one time, but even that scared her. His secret ability made hers pale by comparison. How did he live with those horrific memories?

  He was right about one thing, though: she’d been a willing participant in their sexual Olympics. But she wasn’t going to think about that right now. She needed food, a quick shower, and then sleep. Later she’d think about what had happened, and what to do about Coop’s murder.

  Forty-five minutes later, she set her empty tray out in the hallway and closed the door. Her bed beckoned, but what if the nightmare came back when her defenses were down? Who would rescue her this time? Damn Sandor Kearn for making her want him and making her care.

  Her goal in returning to Seattle had been so clear: find justice for Coop. Instead, she was tangled with a man who’d lied to her, who’d held back vital information he’d known she needed, and who’d made her feel unbelievably cherished as he’d made love to her.

  Her skin tingled with remembered touches and the way it had felt to meet Sandor’s demands with her own. She rubbed her hands up and down on her arms, trying to wipe away both the goose bumps and the memories. Now all that shared joy was twisted up and blackened from touching that damned tattoo of his.

  When the first tear trickled down her cheek, she gave up and got into bed. With the drapes pulled shut and a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, she closed her eyes and her heart against all thoughts of Sandor and the mess her life had become. Finally sleep claimed her.

  Sandor deftly turned the last omelet out onto his plate and joined Ranulf and Kerry at the dining room table. He’d told them to start eating without him so their food wouldn’t get cold, and they’d taken him at his word.

  “I didn’t know you were so handy around the kitchen.” Ranulf reached for more bacon. “Next time I need a midnight snack, I’ll know who to call.”

  “Stuff it, Viking,” Sandor said with no real ran cor. He simply didn’t have the energy. “Do either of you need anything else?”

  “Coffee, but I’ll get it.” The big man disappeared into the kitchen.

  Kerry placed her hand on Sandor’s arm. “Are you all right?”

  Hell, no, I’m dying inside. But Kerry had enough on her shoulders without him adding to the burden.

  Ranulf returned with the coffeepot and topped off all three cups before sitting down.

  “So tell us what happened,” Kerry said.

  There was no good way to say it. “Lena knows.”

  Kerry blinked. “And I thought Ranulf was a man of few words. Care
to elaborate?”

  Lena would hate knowing their night together was a topic of conversation among people she barely knew, and trusted even less. But Sandor saw no way around it.

  “Last night, Lena and I had dinner and then walked the waterfront. I was trying to find some sign of the renegades and thought she might be able to help. After that we decided to come back here for the night. To—”

  Ranulf interrupted. “We already figured that part out for ourselves. Just fast-forward to what happened this morning.”

  “Lena and I were still in bed, dozing off and on. Everything was fine. But then unfortunately she noticed my tattoo of Thor’s hammer.”

  Kerry looked confused. “How can a tattoo cause problems?”

  Sandor pulled his arm out of his sleeve to show her. “You know that Ranulf carries some of his power in the Thor’s hammer he wears around his neck. It’s his direct connection to the Dame, and when Judith bequeathed her talisman to you, you got her power as well. She connected the rest of us Talions to her and to our individual powers through a branding. Mine is on my bicep.”

  When Kerry nodded, he continued. “I felt a small buzz when Lena first touched it. Before I could wake up enough to stop her, she covered the tattoo with her whole hand. Since her ability to read past events seems to be connected to violence, the dam broke. It would have been bad enough if she’d just read my recent experiences, but I think she might have tapped directly into Bradan’s, too. All of them.”

  Kerry shuddered. “How do you know?”

  “Because Lena looked at me as if she were facing all the demons in hell. Because she accused me of knowing all along who had killed Coop and hiding the truth from her.”

  And because she thought he’d used mind games to seduce her. That one really rankled, but he couldn’t blame her for thinking so. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced the issue in the kitchen, but he couldn’t regret it, either. Right now, all he wanted to know was if she’d made it back to her hotel okay and if she was all right. Stupid question—of course she wasn’t all right.