Luc Acostos was dead, and Kane had broken through the Los Muerte curse. There was no one left to poison the men of the village, and she knew that eventually people would start to come back. Jacob had been gone by the time they’d returned, and she was holding out hope that he was still alive out there somewhere, that he was finding himself again. Kane and the others were ready for him to come back and try to kill her, and they all hoped he would so they could catch him and try to help him. They had no idea how he would be now that Luc was gone. Other men had started emerging from the woods, men who had gone missing over the years. Men who were battered and confused, but finding their way back. With them would come families and people, and the town would begin to rebuild again.
But not Jacob. Three nights had passed, and Jacob hadn’t appeared. “Where are you, Jacob?” she asked. “Please come back. Please.” She tried to open their connection, but all she felt was that same wall that she’d felt before, blocking her from reaching him. “Dammit, Jacob!” But even as she grieved the loss of her brother and feared for whatever he was facing, a sense of power warmed her. She’d been so certain that his betrayal and his death would destroy her by finally crushing all hope for goodness, but it hadn’t. She’d found hope and faith on her own, and by finding it, she’d been able to reach out to Kane and love him, and help them save each other. Jacob and Kane had taught her that she was stronger than she could ever have believed.
She and Kane had managed to find the river again, using the same skills they’d used before, and she was restored and healthy…but sad, because it had come too late for Jacob. For Mason. For Abigail. But then she put her hand on her belly and knew that there was hope for the future. Life was beginning again.
Inside, Nonny was preparing food for the team, and the warriors were in deep discussion about who had been in those woods after Luc had died. Who was the male on the black horse? The warrior who had spat such vileness about the Order as he’d tried to convince Kane to kill her? Thano was still missing, and the weight on the team was heavy.
Lily had found evidence of an angel trinity protecting the Order, and it gave Sarah goosebumps to think of the fact that there were two others like her. The Order was worried that they were in danger as well, and Lily was searching hard to find out more information about them and the Calydon on the horse.
The Order hadn’t heard from their teammate Ian, and they were beginning to suspect that his missing sheva might be one of the angel trinity…a woman who was being repeatedly murdered. Could an angel survive that? Sarah didn’t know, but she shivered at the thought of that woman’s suffering, regardless of whether she was part of the angel trinity or not. There was so much death and violence still to come, even though Luc was dead, happily dead. Was he finding redemption in the arms of the woman he’d loved? Was there a chance for redemption for a man like that?
Then she thought of Kane, and she smiled, knowing that yes, there was always a chance for redemption.
“Sarah.” The front porch squeaked as Kane walked out, and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek against hers as he clasped his hands over her belly. The puncture wounds were gone now, healed by the water, and she could feel the life pulsing within her. This time, her child would have the protection of both parents.
She turned in Kane’s arms so she could look at him. His eyes were so bright, filled with softness and warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered as she laced her fingers behind his neck. “Thank you for giving me back my hope.”
He laughed softly and kissed her. “Shit, woman, I’m the one who owes you.” His smile faded, and he ran his fingers gently through her hair. “You gave me the strength to break the curse that had held me for so long. Your love. My love for you.” He kissed her again, and the kiss quickly became passionate and heated. I love you, Sarah Burns.
I love you, too—
“Santiago.”
Kane broke the kiss as Javier came out on the porch. The old warrior had washed off the war paint, and his black eyes were intense.
“Thanks for your guidance,” Kane said. “It helped.”
Javier nodded, and he handed Kane a black cord threaded through a red stone. “This is for you.”
Sarah smiled, and Kane felt a wave of warmth from her as he studied the necklace. The stone was carved with a design he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t one of the ones that he’d carried on his body for so long. “What’s this?”
“That, my boy, is something we’ve been holding onto for a long time.” Nonny walked out behind Javier. She was wearing a hot pink tank top and a pair of flowered shorts. Behind her filed the rest of the team, all of them wearing shit-eating grins.
Kane frowned as Sarah slipped her hand into his. “What’s going on?”
“Hold it in your fist,” Javier instructed. “Close your hand around it.”
Kane glanced again at the panel of smug faces watching him, but he did as Javier instructed. His palm immediately began to throb with heat, a pulsing beat that seemed to echo through his entire body.
“Now, open it.”
His knuckles were stiff and protesting, but Kane managed to pry his hand open. On his palm was a red mark, burned into his skin. Another scar.
Nonny grabbed his hand and peered at it, then she grinned at Javier. “It worked.”
“Of course it did,” Javier said.
“What is it?” Kane couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice. Having another scar on his palm made him uneasy, as if once again he was being cut from the town and branded a monster.
It was Sarah who answered, a smile lighting up her face. “When this village was founded originally as an enclave for angels, a team of guardians was assigned to protect the angels from demons. The original protector was conscripted by the demons, and he left us with no one.”
“Legend said that the new one would come,” Nonny said. “And that the stone would mark him as ours.”
Javier tapped his palm. “That design is the same one that is burned into the top of the fountain, which is the center of our town. It means that you and this town are one.”
Kane stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“It means,” Sarah said. “That you’re home, Kane. You’re finally home.”
Home? Kane tore his gaze off his hand and looked around the crumbling village, the one that had once been his. The place he’d been searching for his whole life. The one he’d destroyed once…it had welcomed him back? His chest felt tight, and he had to take a deep breath.
“Kane.” Sarah stood on her tiptoes and framed his face with her hands. “Welcome home.” Then she threw her arms around him, and Kane hauled her against him, burying himself in the amazing sensation of all that she was. As his team pounded on his back and congratulated him, Kane knew that after five hundred years of searching, he’d finally found what he’d been looking for. Himself. His home. His heart.
He kissed Sarah’s head and met Ryland’s gaze across the porch. They exchanged a silent nod of agreement. The battle wasn’t over. Not even close. Next up? To find Thano, Ian, and two other angels before the horseback rider from the woods made his next move. And as Kane watched Ryland survey the woods, he had a feeling that Ryland, with his connection to the angels, was going to be the man to lead them.
Sneak Peek: FOREVER IN DARKNESS
(The Order of the Blade, Book Four) (Novella)
(Dark & Sexy Paranormal Romance, Available Now)
It wasn’t her.
Ian gritted his jaw, fighting against the need to sprint across the room and grab the woman standing beside the bar. It couldn’t be true. There was no chance that the woman thirty feet away from him was Catherine Taylor.
Catherine Taylor was dead. She’d fallen into his arms, stared at him for a fraction of a second, and then Ian’s teammate had struck her down. Dead. Done. Over. She was history.
And the second woman he’d buried earlier in the evening? He was sure now that it hadn’t been Catherine. It had been a woman who looked
like her, and his screwed-up mind had mixed them up.
The curse was trying to work him over. There was no reality anymore. Just delusions.
It’s not her.
Sweat beaded on Ian’s brow, and adrenaline surged through him. His entire body shook with the effort of staying where he was instead of responding to the siren call of the woman by the bar. His head pounded with the strain of trying to control his thoughts, to keep from hauling ass over there, sweeping her up in his arms and carting her off to his place to make love to her until neither of them could move.
He ground his jaw, focusing his attention on an old wooden sign on the opposite wall. Be a Man. Play with Sharp Objects.
Be a man. Stand with honor. Shit. What was he doing hiding in the shadows?
Honor didn’t mean he was supposed to shrivel in the corner, afraid to look at an auburn-haired woman. It meant he stood tall, faced down that damn curse and defeated it. The curse had come to claim him, and it was time to step up and fight it. He needed to challenge what it threw at him and prove himself stronger.
He had to face it.
Ian clenched his jaw and slowly turned his head back to the woman. He steeled himself for the impact of seeing her, but the moment he saw her again, he felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut.
It was Catherine. It was her. It was his woman.
He would never forget those strawberry-gold highlights in her hair, the upturned slant of her nose, the way her lips pressed together in tension. Her skin was paler than he recalled, but her hips had that same curve of muscles and femininity. He would never forget the feel of her hips beneath his hands when she’d fallen down that damned cliff and he’d caught her. He knew exactly how they felt, precisely how they curved, and he knew just how her jeans caressed them.
Her hair was tossed over her right shoulder in a tumble of waves, and her white tee shirt hugged her body like it was put on this earth to torment him. The plain cotton was almost innocent in its simplicity, but the curve of her breasts beneath it made Ian’s thoughts go to places that were far from innocent. On her left wrist was a thin gold bracelet that matched the gold hoops in her ears. No other adornment, no other flash. Not even any makeup. Just the pure, sensual beauty of a woman who was simply who she was, and that was more than enough for him.
She was searching the room now, her face tense with worry as she scanned the crowd. Her tension made his protective instincts pulse deep. Adrenaline rushed through him, and his weapons burned in his arms. This time the urge to arm himself was not to impale himself like some weak-willed embarrassment to his kind, but to protect her. To make her safe. To keep her from the fate she’d already suffered twice—
Twice?
Ian swore and gritted his teeth. What was he thinking? It made no sense that this woman was Catherine Taylor, that she was some reincarnation anomaly who could come back to life hours after he’d buried her. What the hell was his problem?
He knew the answer to that one. The curse was his problem. It was going to keep trying to make him relive the death of his sheva until it finally broke him.
Well, fuck that. The woman across the bar wasn’t his sheva. He was going to prove it, and then cut himself free from her influence.
She turned her head and met his gaze. His gut jumped as her green eyes met his, and he felt himself sliding helplessly under her spell. She stiffened, then took a step back and glanced over her shoulder toward the door.
She was leaving? Unacceptable.
Urgency coursed through Ian, and he broke from the corner, heading right for her.
Her eyes widened when she realized he was approaching, and her cheeks flushed. But she didn’t back away. She lifted her chin and waited for him to approach.
Anticipation roared through him as he neared her, and an urgent lust rose within him as he closed the distance between them. The scent of lilac and lavender filled the air, so subtle, so faint that he wouldn’t even have noticed it if he hadn’t been searching for it so relentlessly.
Lilac and lavender. Hot damn. She smelled right.
Her green eyes searched his, and in them he saw pain and fear, so deeply etched it had become a part of her soul. But at the same time, they flashed with defiance and courage, a woman who had not surrendered to the burden she carried. Respect surged through him, igniting his lust even further.
But it was more than respect and lust. It was a raw, burning need to drag her over to him and make her his, in any and every way that he could.
She swallowed, and he felt her rising nervousness. “What do you want?” she asked.
Sweet Jesus. Her voice was like the choir of angels. Desire exploded through him, a yearning so powerful he could barely contain it. He had spent his life fighting the carnal urges that were a part of being a Calydon male, determined not to let it rule him and put him in a position where a woman could bring him down. But with those four words, this woman had unleashed all the raw sexual need he’d held at bay for so long.
She had to be Catherine. She had to be his sheva. There was no other explanation for the intensity of his response…but Catherine had died eight months ago. Her spirit couldn’t have been reincarnated into a twenty-something body that was already alive.
What the hell was going on?
He needed answers. He had to know. He wanted to feel her body against his, to crush her into him and feel their bodies come together. He needed to dive deep into her soul and see who she really was, and he needed it now. The pulsing of music from the band vibrated through him, the deep base thudding in every cell in his body. “Dance with me,” he said hoarsely, his voice raw with lust and need. “Dance with me.”
Sneak Peek: ICE
(Alaska Heat, Book One)
(Romantic Suspense, Available Now)
Kaylie’s hands were shaking as she rifled through her bag, searching for her yoga pants. She needed the low-slung black ones with a light pink stripe down the side. The cuffs were frayed from too many wearings to the grocery store late at night for comfort food, and they were her go-to clothes when she couldn’t cope. Like now.
She couldn’t find them.
“Come on!” Kaylie grabbed her other suitcase and dug through it, but they weren’t there. “Stupid pants! I can’t—” A sob caught at her throat and she pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to stifle the swell of grief. “Sara—”
Her voice was a raw moan of pain, and she sank to the thick shag carpet. She bent over as waves of pain, of loneliness, of utter grief shackled her. For her parents, her brother, her family and now Sara—
Dear God, she was all alone.
“Dammit, Kaylie! Get up!” she chided herself. She wrenched herself to her feet. “I can do this.” She grabbed a pair of jeans and a silk blouse off the top of her bag and turned toward the bathroom. One step at a time. A shower would make her feel better.
She walked into the tiny bathroom, barely noticing the heavy wood door as she stepped inside and flicked the light switch. Two bare light bulbs flared over her head, showing a rustic bathroom with an ancient footed tub and a raw wood vanity with a battered porcelain sink. A tiny round window was on her right. It was small enough to keep out the worst of the cold, but big enough to let in some light and breeze in the summer.
She was in Alaska, for sure. God, what was she doing here?
Kaylie tossed the clean clothes on the sink and unzipped her jacket, dropping it on the floor. She tugged all her layers off, including the light blue sweater that had felt so safe this morning when she’d put it on. She stared grimly at her black lace bra, so utterly feminine, exactly the kind of bra that her mother had always considered frivolous and completely impractical. Which it was. Which was why that was the only style Kaylie ever wore.
She should never have come to Alaska. She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t handle this. Kaylie gripped the edge of the sink. Her hands dug into the wood as she fought against the urge to curl into a ball and cry.
After a minute, Kaylie lifted he
r head and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and scared, with dark circles beneath. Her hair was tangled and flattened from her wool hat. There was dirt caked on her cheeks.
Kaylie rubbed her hand over her chin, and the streaks of mud didn’t come off.
She tried again, then realized she had smudges all over her neck. She turned on the water, and wet her hands…and saw her hands were covered as well.
Stunned, Kaylie stared as the water ran over her hands, turning pink as it swirled in the basin.
Not dirt.
Sara’s blood.
“Oh, God.” Kaylie grabbed a bar of soap and began to scrub her hands. But the blood was dried, stuck to her skin. “Get off!” She rubbed frantically, but the blackened crust wouldn’t come off. Her lungs constricted and she couldn’t breathe. “I can’t—”
The door slammed open, and Cort stood behind her, wearing a T-shirt and jeans.
The tears burst free at the sight of Cort, and Kaylie held up her hands to him. “I can’t get it off—”
“I got it.” Cort took her hands and held them under the water, his grip warm and strong. “Take a deep breath, Kaylie. It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It won’t be.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as he washed her hands roughly and efficiently. His muscles flexed beneath her cheek, his skin hot through his shirt. Warm. Alive. “Sara’s dead,” she whispered. “My parents. My brother. They’re all gone. The blood—” Sobs broke free again, and she couldn’t stop the trembling.
“I know. I know, babe.” He pulled her hands out from under the water and grabbed a washcloth. He turned her toward him and began to wash her face and neck.
His eyes were troubled, his mouth grim. But his hands were gentle where he touched her, gently holding her face still while he scrubbed. His gaze flicked toward hers, and he held contact for a moment, making her want to fall into those brown depths and forget everything. To simply disappear into the energy that was him. “You have to let them go,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do to bring them back—”
Darkness Reborn (Order of the Blade #5) Page 29