Sudden pain assaulted him, and he went down, gasping in agony as it drilled through his body. The image of Desdria vanished from his mind, his claws retreated, and his body became his own again. He saw Catherine kneeling in front of him. "Cat?" he rasped, reaching out for her. She couldn't be real.
She caught his hands, holding them against her chest. Real. She was real.
"Ryland." A smile broke out over her face, a brilliant smile of relief that seemed to reach inside his body and rip him free of the last grasp of Desdria. "I didn't think you were ever going to hear me," she said.
"Cat." He pulled her over to him and buried his face in her hair. He basked in its silkiness, in the warmth of her body, and in the gentleness of her touch as she stroked his head. She was real. She was his angel. Goodness. Not evil. Not death. Not trying to control him. His heart was pounding, sweat streaming down his back, his breath rasping in his chest. He felt like he'd just been in a twelve-hour battle for his own life and had barely survived to fight again.
"It's okay, Ry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "She's not here."
"She is here." He pulled back enough to see her face. Her blue eyes were so clear and radiant, her skin pure and soft. He needed her goodness. He needed that gift. He needed her. He needed to make love to her until she wiped out all of that taint. His grip tightened on her hair, and he pulled her closer until her mouth was a fraction of an inch from his. "I need you," he said.
"I know." She framed his face and leaned forward, her lips brushing against his.
For a moment, Ryland could do nothing else but absorb the beauty of her kiss. Her lips were so soft and tender, blessing him with the kindness and light that he needed so badly. His entire soul burned with the need for her, for more, for— "Shit." He broke the kiss, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "You're Thano's woman. I can't do this."
"I'm not—"
"Look." He gestured to her arm, where more than half of the halberd was now drawn, no longer hidden by the shroud she'd pulled over it before. He stared at it in shock. "I don't understand," he said. "There's so much of the brand already drawn on your arm, that it has to be more than half of the stages already. But you've only done the one stage with him, when you called his weapon." He looked at her. "Unless there are other stages that you did with him? Did you tell each other your darkest secrets? Did you or he risk death to save one another? The blood bond?" No, he knew that. Sex was out. He knew that, too. She'd been with him the whole time.
Catherine shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I've barely spoken to him." She met his gaze. "I feel nothing for him. Not like what you do to me."
He swore, a raw need to claim her pulsing through him. "We had sex," he said. "I shared with you the secrets about my past. You trusted me with the fact you killed Alice's mother and the other angels, and you told me about Simon." He locked his hand around the back of her neck, riveted by the desire crashing through her eyes. "Those are bonding stages. Having sex. The trust stage, where we share our deepest secrets or entrust our lives to the other. Those are my stages, when I bonded to you. My claim to you. Mine."
This time, neither of them held back when they kissed. He was hit with a crashing need to tear her from Thano's grasp, to bind their souls to each other. The kiss was hot and carnal instantly, two desperate souls fighting to ward off Desdria, the darkness, and the intrusion of another male who didn't belong. Her breasts were hot and full in his hands, her nipples taut and ripe in his mouth, her core achingly wet for him.
Shirts didn't matter. Finesse was lost. Foreplay was gone. All that mattered was that they bind each other. The need surging from Catherine was every bit as fierce as Ryland's, her hands just as frantic as she yanked off her jeans while he ditched his. Then he was on her, thrusting deep, so deep, claiming her, taking her, making her his. She gripped his hair, holding his kisses captive as he thrust, kissing him back desperately, as if she could make everything else disappear.
He felt her soul reach for his, a frantic yearning driven by a need so fierce it made the world spin in frenzied chaos. "Catherine," he growled as he thrust deeper, harder, opening himself to her and drawing her deep within him until there was no way to tell which darkness was hers and which was his. But he knew the light was hers, because there was no light within him. He felt like his soul was alive and glowing, vibrating with freedom and levity, everything he'd never felt before.
He wasn't a fool. He knew it was an illusion. Freedom was not his, not now, not ever, but as God was his witness, in Catherine's arms, he felt like he finally knew what he'd been seeking his whole life—
The orgasm took him with violent intensity, thrusting him into a whirlwind of darkness and light, of good and evil, of lust and desire, of innocence and beauty. Catherine screamed his name, her voice a declaration to the heavens that Ryland was the man in her arms. He joined his voice with hers, bellowing her name, two voices mingling together, denying the existence of anything but each other, their connection and their need for each other…
…until the orgasm let them go, and spit them back out into the reality of their lives.
Into the darkness of the facts.
Into the cold, hard grip of a glittery golden cuff around each of his ankles.
* * *
Catherine felt Ryland's body go rigid, and he jerked back so quickly that he almost fell. "Jesus!" He lunged for his ankles, and she saw six-inch golden bands around both of his legs.
"Oh, my God," she whispered in horror, staring at the metal cuffs that were decorated with the same ancient designs as the one on his chest tattoo. Where had they come from? "It can't be—"
With a roar of anguish, Ryland called out his machete with a crack and a flash of black light and slammed it down onto the metal.
Sparks exploded into the darkness, and she ducked her head as they showered down on them, burning her as they landed. They were real. Not their imagination. Real.
The cuff didn't move, and Ryland swung again, an unearthly bellow filling their cave. "Get away!" He swung again. And again. And again. Until he was in a frenzy, fighting at them. Sweat was cascading down his body. He was shouting, bellowing, screaming at them, swearing at them, and ordering them off his body. His face was contorted, twisted in fear or hate or terror or something else so overwhelming that it had turned him from a strategic warrior into a beast fighting for its life in a battle that would destroy him.
"Ryland! Stop!" She grabbed for his arms, but he tore out of her grasp and swung again. This time, he missed, and the blade crashed into his ankle, tearing apart flesh and bone. He didn't even react to the blow as he reared back to hit again, this time aiming for the painting on his chest.
Dear God. He was going to try to kill the dragon! "Ryland!" Without thinking, she lunged for him, throwing her body over his chest just as he brought the weapon down. She screamed as it came toward her head, and then at the last second, he pulled the blow, the blade slamming into the stone beside them.
He stared at her, his face ashen. "Catherine," he said hoarsely. His hand was shaking, and his face was stark with horror. "I almost killed you."
"No, you didn't." Gingerly, she sat up, trying not to put pressure on his damaged ankle. "You weren't going to kill me." She managed a shaky smile. "But I'm glad you're back."
He dropped his weapon with a loud clatter on the stone and grasped her shoulders. His hands were shaking so badly he was making her teeth chatter. "You're okay? I didn't hurt you? Jesus, for a split second, when I saw my blade coming down toward you—"
"It's okay." She cut him off, trying to head off the anguish rising within him. "It's okay, Ryland. You knew I was there. You weren't going to hurt me—" Her arm began to burn intensely, and she instinctively looked down at it, expecting to see that he had actually cut her, but her adrenaline hadn't let her notice it until now.
There was no cut. It was the brand. The tip of the halberd was filling in, as more thin, silver lines appeared on her arm.
> Ryland swore and grabbed her arm. "Holy crap," he said. "The death stage."
"The death stage?" she echoed, unable to take her eyes off the marks as they crawled along her arm. Thano's mark. How was this happening? She didn't understand. She wanted to grab Ryland's machete and carve Thano's brand out of her arm. She felt violated with his halberd on her body. The thought of being claimed by a man she didn't want…her stomach roiled and her legs started to tremble.
"Death is one of the bonding stages. Killing to save the other, or offering your life to save them." He looked at her. "You risked your life to save me."
She shook her head. "I didn't—"
"You did. I almost killed you." His eyes were black, raging with emotions so intense she couldn't even read them. "I'd lost my shit. My next blow would have been to my own chest to make it all stop. I would have killed myself, and I almost took you instead." His black eyes were glistening, and there was a rawness to his voice. "You offered yourself to save me." He spoke the words softly, almost as if he were awed by the concept that anyone would make that sacrifice.
She shifted uncomfortably, the magnitude of what she'd done beginning to dawn on her. What if she'd been wrong that he wouldn't hurt her? What if he had struck her? Would he have killed her? And if she'd died, who would have saved Lucy? Had she really just chosen Ryland over her own daughter? No, no, no. She hadn't. She was right. "I knew you weren't going to hurt me. I knew it." She looked into his shocked face as another question dawned. "If what I did just satisfied the death stage for the two of us, or it would have, if I was your sheva, then why did it make Thano's mark appear on my arm?"
Ryland said nothing for a long moment, and then recognition dawned in his eyes. "When a warrior blood-bonds with another warrior, it can affect their shevas."
Oh…she definitely did not like the sound of that. "How?"
Ryland's face was gaunt and tormented, as if a ghost had just taken him. "I blood-bonded with Thano," he said. "We did it in secrecy not too long ago, so Thano could find me and kill me if I went rogue." He ran his hand over his brow, wiping away the sweat left from his frenzy. "That means that if I do bonding stages with his sheva, it is the same as him doing the bonding stages with her. Bonding by proxy."
A cold chill settled in her spine. "You're kidding."
"No." He moved away from her and grabbed his jeans, turning his back on her. "How many stages have we done? Transference, when you called his weapon. Sex, we took care of. Trust, when each side shares their deepest secret or entrusts the other with their life." His gaze was hooded. "Some of our conversations might have covered that."
She stared at him. "But—"
"And the death stage. Killing a direct and certain threat to the other's life, or offering your own life to save theirs. You just satisfied your half of the death stage, but I haven't done mine." His eyes glittered. "The blood-bond is the only other one left. We haven't done that one yet, but—" He looked at the lines on her skin. "It's close."
She covered her arm. "I don't care what's on my arm. I don't belong to Thano."
"Oh, but you do." He scowled, still trying to grasp what had happened. "You really are his sheva, and I had sex with you twice. Shit." He yanked his pants on, sucking in his breath when his shattered ankle caught in the fabric. "I don't understand this," he said. "I don't understand how I can crave another man's sheva. That never happens. Never."
Catherine felt like she was going to throw up. She was horrified by the idea of belonging to Thano. It was like a noose tightening around her throat. But what other explanation was there? Numbly, she fumbled for her pants and pulled them on. "It can't be," she said. "It just can't. Thano doesn't want me, and I don't want him. Don't we have to want each other?"
"It's because of me." Ryland helped her to her feet, and took over buttoning her jeans, the intimacy of his assistance making tears burn in her eyes. "I overshadowed it. I blocked your connection with him. I interfered with how it is supposed to be."
"How? How could you interfere? You just said that Calydons don't covet the soul mates of other males. So, that's not it. There has to be something else—"
"I'm not a true Calydon." His tone was grim.
"What?" She touched his arms, the brands carved into his flesh. "But you are—"
"No." Ryland retrieved her shoes and handed them to her. "I was born a creature of the nether-realm, but when Dante freed me, it created a bond between us that transferred some of our essences to each other. Dante became...darker...and I acquired some of the traits of being a Calydon. The weapons. The mental telepathy. Enough to blend in and join the Order, but I've never been a part of them. Not really. They have no idea I'm not a full Calydon. Only Dante knows the truth, and when he brought me in, no one questioned it." He looked at her. "I'm not a true Calydon, which means I don't play by all the rules. I can covet you, Catherine, even though my own teammate owns you."
Panic tightened her chest, and she started to have difficulty breathing. "No man owns me."
"The sheva bond is a two-way ownership," Ryland said. "He owns you, but you own him."
"Then it's you." She shook him off as he started to argue. "It's you, Ryland. You're the one who is the other half of my soul. Not him."
Regret and yearning burned in his eyes. "The brand doesn't lie."
"Of course it does." She looked down at the cuffs on his ankles, and her heart tightened. "It has to," she said, looking at the already-healing wound on his ankle from when he'd attacked himself to try to escape his bonds. She knelt before him and wrapped her hands around the cuff on his left ankle, looking up at him. "It has to be me, because you need it to be me. You need me to be yours to defeat this."
Darkness flared in Ryland's eyes. "It doesn't matter what I need," he said. "I won't take you from him." Honor was thick and heavy in his words, and he pulled back his shoulders in defiance.
And it was then, in that moment, that she saw the man he truly was. A warrior driven by integrity and loyalty to his team, a man who would give up his life to honor those he had sworn himself to. He might not be a true Calydon, but he was more Order than any other warrior would ever be.
She knew how much he needed her. She'd felt it in the desperation of his kisses every time he'd kissed her, and when they'd made love. Whether or not there had been any risk to her when she'd jumped in front of his machete, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have struck himself in the chest if she had not intervened. He did need her, and they both knew it.
Despite that fact, however, and the grim future that he faced without her help, he was willing to deny his need for her, so he could do what was right. No wonder being enslaved to kill the innocent had nearly destroyed him. He was born to protect, to honor, and to preserve. Somehow, in the midst of this hell, he had been created with more goodness in him than many angels she knew, including herself.
Fierce resolution surged through her, a need to protect him. No way should this man, this beautiful, tormented man, be enslaved and forced to hurt others again.
No way.
Somehow, someway, she had to save him, too, as well as her daughter—
A faint, haunting scream began to echo in the distance, and a thin veil of evil brushed over her skin, the same corrupt essence that had tried to take them both a minute ago. Catherine sucked in her breath and leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. "What's that?"
Ryland turned sharply toward the sound, his muscles tensing. "They're on their way," he said. "They found us."
"Who?"
"Desdria's army. Her connection to me is strong enough now to penetrate this cave. It wasn't when I was a kid, but apparently now things are different. Shit. That's not good." Ryland whirled around and raced toward the wall where he'd retrieved the glowing stone. He passed his hand over the wall, and suddenly a section of the wall seemed to shimmer and vanish, dissolving beneath his hands. "There's no way we can defeat them." He reached inside and pulled out a bag made of a pale silver material. It was glowing sli
ghtly, an almost rose-colored blush emanating from it as he shoved it into his pocket. "Our only chance is to outrun them."
"Run?" The area outside the faint glow of their stone was pitch black. What was out there? Tunnels? Caves? Stone? Crevasses? How on earth could they run blindly through there without getting killed?
He grabbed her hand. "Run."
* * *
Ryland locked his hand around Catherine's as he sprinted out of their hideaway into the darkness. The air was thick and suffocating, oozing with noxious bile so impenetrable that it burned his skin. He could feel the hunters descending, closing in from all directions. Their hideaway would do no good if he and Catherine were trapped in it, because the army stalking them could suck all the oxygen out of the area in a split second, rendering their safe spot unviable.
The darkness swallowed the two of them up almost instantly, and he shifted into his preternatural vision, easily seeing the rocky geography that he'd navigated so many times as a child. Catherine tripped, blinded by the darkness, and he caught her. "Come on," he said. "Stay with me." They had to make it to the geyser before the army caught them. That was the only way out of this section of the nether-realm, but it was going to be close.
Stephanie Rowe - Darkness Unleashed Page 20