He owed it to her to cut himself some slack and stop judging himself for whatever random thoughts popped into his head.
Morgan slid himself from Serena’s body and cringed at the mess he’d left behind.
This poor couch was never going to be the same again.
Neither was he.
She laughed, breaking his tension. “Next time, we’ll put down a towel first.”
And just like that, he was already thinking about the next time he’d get inside that perfect body of hers.
He knew sex wasn’t love, and that it was impossible to cheat on a dead woman, but now that his body was cooling, that didn’t mean he didn’t feel just a little like a cheater all the same.
“I’m going to go clean up, then try to sleep for an hour or two,” she said. “Between the loss of blood, learning to channel your power, and what we just did, I’m exhausted.”
Morgan helped her to her feet. He almost followed her, but stopped himself as he realized he had no right. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements. They’d chosen separate rooms earlier. For all he knew, sex didn’t change that. It’s not like she asked him to come snuggle her or anything.
When she left the bathroom, went into her room and shut the door, her choice was clear enough.
Sex was all she’d wanted. She’d gotten it and now she was done with him.
For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, that pissed him off.
***
Link drove through the countryside, winding his way east. His flight would leave from Atlanta soon, and it was his duty to be on it.
His people needed him.
Things in the States were desperate—the war between Sentinels and Synestryn wasn’t going well. Dabyr had fallen, but its leader hadn’t yet given up on protecting the corpse.
It had been the same in Africa, where the stronghold had been destroyed in a recent attack. In Europe, things were also not going well. Their fortress still stood, but it was only a matter of time before it fell too.
Wherever Link went, the war would be there. Demons would stalk the night, and his sword arm would always be needed.
Perhaps he should stay here and try to change Serena’s mind. He didn’t mind America. He’d lived here for over a century, when the countryside was still wild and untamed. He’d only returned home in the 1980s when his brother had fallen in combat and died.
Since then he’d stayed at home, doing his part to fight back the infestation of Synestryn. He was skilled in combat. He wasn’t afraid to die. That combination made him one of the more deadly warriors in England.
If he stayed here, maybe another one of the female Theronai being found recently would pop up and be compatible with his power.
He had no prospects in England. All the females there were attached, bonded. At least here there was a shred of hope to cling to.
Without hope, he wasn’t going to last another year. He didn’t have enough leaves left on his lifemark to sustain him. And even if the death of his soul didn’t kill him, the pain crushing him from the inside out would.
He couldn’t continue like this. He had to change his path. Surrender wasn’t an option, and returning home unbound would be the same as.
With that decision made, he already felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
Now all he had to do was convince the leader on this continent to accept him as one of their own. And the best way to do that was to prove just how indispensable he could be.
If Link brought Joseph proof of his prowess in combat, he’d have no choice but to welcome him here with open arms.
Chapter Eighteen
Serena dreamed of children. Morgan’s children. Her children.
They were beautiful, with midnight blue eyes and skin perfectly balanced between her fairness and his dark complexion. There were four of them—two boys, two girls—all playing in a valley filled with green grass. She and Morgan stood hand-in-hand, watching them with love and pride.
A moment later, the sky turned stormy. Rain slashed down from the heavens, racing lightning bolts as it went.
They rushed toward the children to scoop them up out of harm’s way, but the ground seemed to stretch out in an endless treadmill they couldn’t outrun.
A muddy wall of water careened down the valley, toward her babies. As it neared, she could see that it was more than just water. It was alive—a wall of demons.
The gray, furless bodies of the red-eyed demons churned inside the flood, arms outstretched, mouths open and hungry.
If those demons reached her children, she knew this would be the last time she’d ever see them.
Serena dove forward in an effort to grab her babies and jerk them out of the way of the flood of monsters, but it was too late. The wave washed the children away, into the clutches of monsters.
She was ripped from sleep, sweating and shaking, bolting upright in bed. A horrible sound of despair welled out of her, and there was nothing she could do to stop her sobbing.
Morgan burst into her room, naked, but armed with his sword.
She looked up at him, speechless. Tears streamed down her face and her throat was too tight to do more than gasp between sobs.
His dark gaze scanned the room, and when he saw no threat, he lowered his blade and propped it against the nightstand. He sat on the bed and took her into his arms.
She didn’t even try to contain herself. There was no restraint after witnessing that tragedy. The nightmare had been too vivid. Too real.
A warning, something in her mind whispered.
A warning of what?
There was no answer, but Serena didn’t need one. She already knew.
You must find and destroy the source of the red-eyed demons before the babies are born.
Had the seer been talking about Serena’s babies, or those being born soon? Did it even matter?
Morgan rocked her as her terror faded. When she was finally able to stop sobbing, he wiped tears from her eyes and tilted her face up to his.
His voice was quiet and achingly gentle. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head with too much force. “No. Not now. It’s just…we need to get moving. I can’t go back to sleep.”
The mere idea of subjecting herself to that terror again made her stomach churn. She needed to be out there, searching for those demons.
“Okay,” he said easily. “Whatever you want. I cleaned the blood out of the truck while you were sleeping, so all you need to do is throw a few clothes in a bag.”
She nodded, told herself that if they were going to leave, she had to let go of him. But her arms wouldn’t obey. She had a death grip around his body and wondered if she’d ever be able to let him go.
He stroked her hair with gentle sweeps of his palm. “You’re okay, honey. Everything’s okay.”
She could almost believe him, but that nightmare had rattled her.
What if it really was a warning? What if she was nearly out of time?
She couldn’t stay here all day, clinging to a man, when her future children were at risk. She had to act. Now.
With an effort of will, Serena pulled away and wiped her eyes on the sheet. She looked up at him with resolve, and said, “That cave where we almost died last night, where I left my car? I need to go back.”
He shook his head. “There are clothes here. I know you like your sparkly dresses, but we’ll get you more. We can’t go back for anything. Besides, your car has probably already been ripped to shreds, along with everything in it.”
“It’s not my belongings I’m after,” she said.
“Then why go back?” he asked.
Serena squared her shoulders. “To finish what I started.”
***
As soon as the sun broke the horizon, Paul and Andra raced back to Dabyr.
It was so much worse than she’d imagined, so much worse than when they’d fled to go stay at the shelter.
The sun shone down through the cold, winter air, hiding nothing of
the destruction.
She remembered the first time she’d seen this place, with its gleaming stone walls and solid construction. The place was massive, with two huge wings jutting out from the back of the main structure like arms spread wide. The main building was at least three stories tall with glass ceilings in the center of the space to let in plenty of light. A parking garage large enough to hold at least a couple hundred vehicles sat to one side, joined by a breezeway so the inhabitants didn’t have to face the brutal winter cold or scorching summer heat on the way to their rides.
Pristine lawns had circled the outside of the wall, as well as inside. Trees and bushes had been cleared all around to allow them to see any enemies who grew near. Inside the walls, the grounds were parklike, with plenty of trees for shade and walking paths built throughout the acreage. A small stream ran through one area, feeding a small lake with fresh water.
It had been the most beautiful place Andra had ever lived, and now it was destroyed.
Demon bodies littered the once-perfect lawn surrounding Dabyr. Fetid, black smoke billowed up from their remains as they burned up under the sun. Black and red blood left stains across the ground where battles had taken place. She knew from experience that nothing would ever grow on those black spots again. The ground was dead there—permanently scarred.
The main building was still mostly unharmed, with only a few broken windows and scorched stones serving as battle scars. But the stone wall—the tall, solid mass of stone that encircled their home with protective magic and kept out Synestryn—was ruined.
Large sections were broken, with piles of rubble beneath. Jagged openings perforated the thick barrier on all sides, leaving the warriors defending Dabyr scrambling to keep up with the influx of demons.
Even now, with the sun high in the sky, the battle raged on.
Those hairless, red-eyed demons were still here—the ones that stood seven-feet tall and fought with clumsy swords instead of teeth and claws. Their grayish skin looked sickly under the morning light, highlighting them as the abomination they were.
Their blood also stained the battlefield, an eerie mix of Synestryn black and human red.
Paul’s distress mirrored her own. She could feel it vibrating through their link to clog it with a mix of disgust, anger and fear.
Only a few of their kind were left fighting—just enough to hold back the straggling forces dawn had left behind. Among them were also a handful of Slayers, some of them naked. Others wore armor, but fought with teeth and claws, ripping apart their enemies one-by-one. Still others had shifted into animal forms, their bodies covered in fur and rippling with otherworldly power.
She glimpsed more of their kind slinking along the perimeter as they sniffed out stray demons who wanted to slip in unseen.
There were no Sanguinar on the field. They couldn’t tolerate the sun, and even if they could, the giant, crystalline Wardens that would have been summoned would have only made things worse.
The iron gate strung across the road leading to Dabyr was usually closed up tight, guarded by cameras, and men inside the walls controlling the heavy, rolling bars. But now, the black iron was a twisted mass of scrap metal, doing nothing to prevent intruders.
With so many other holes in the wall, one more hardly seemed to matter. And when would they have had time to fix the gate? It was a constant struggle just to hold their ground and keep the demons at bay. Repairs weren’t even possible yet.
Paul navigated his SUV down the long drive toward the garage. They’d been given instructions to pull up to the front doors, rather than parking inside, because there was too much carnage inside the garage for safe passage.
Apparently, Synestryn had rampaged through the space, ripping apart tires, smashing glass and tearing metal until there was nothing left that was able to move.
To Andra, that seemed suspiciously like a calculated strategy, as if the mindless demons fighting them had someone smarter and more powerful calling the shots.
If none of the Sentinels could flee, they’d be trapped here. Easy pickings.
There were several trucks, vans and cars lined up right outside the stone steps leading to the giant front doors of Dabyr. Armed Theronai stood guard around the vehicles to protect them from attack. These men drooped with exhaustion. Many wore bandages over wounds. It was as if this guard duty was the closest these men were going to get to rest.
The fact that they hadn’t been fully healed told Andra just how bad things must be. An open wound—the scent of Theronai blood—would draw Synestryn from miles around.
Assuming there were any who didn’t already know to come here for a feast.
She wondered if there were enough vehicles here to evacuate everyone if things went from bad to worse, or if there were some who would stay behind and give their lives so that others could get away safely.
She felt her husband’s desire to go help his fellow warriors flood their link. His need was like an itch in the middle of his spine—one that could only be scratched by wading into battle to lend his brothers a hand.
Only he couldn’t. Joseph had given them explicit instructions to come directly to him when they arrived. With her pregnancy on the line, neither of them was to take any chances. They were here for a specific purpose and nothing else.
The men guarding the vehicles let them pass. Paul parked with the nose of his SUV facing out, just in case they needed to get out fast. Their ride was stocked with medical supplies as well as enough gas, food and water to get them across the country if they had to flee that far.
Andra knew they wouldn’t. There was no way they were leaving their fellow Theronai to fight this battle alone.
They got out of the SUV and rushed inside. Paul’s hand was at the small of her back. His other hand was filled with his sword, ready to cut down anything that came toward her and the baby.
Dabyr was usually warm and inviting, but now, the air was as cold in here as it was outside. She could see her breath misting in a silver plume as they hurried away from the doors.
Joseph, their leader, appeared from the corridor leading to his office. He looked ten years older. There were ridges under his eyes so deep they looked like purple gouges. His skin seemed to hang on his frame. There was more gray in his hair than there had been only a few days ago. His entire body seemed to tremble slightly, though whether from worry or exhaustion, Andra couldn’t tell.
What was clear was that he couldn’t keep going like this for long. The man was burning out fast. If he didn’t get some rest, he was going to crumble like the walls outside. And if that happened—if these people lost his leadership—they’d all be screwed.
“Sorry about the cold,” he said. “Our HV/AC system was hit a few days ago. We’re just glad we still have electricity and water.”
Andra patted her belly. “I have my own internal heater. I’m good.”
Joseph nodded. His expression was grim. “There’s no time to chat. You have only one job besides staying alive and keeping that baby safe. That comes first.”
Paul nodded. “Don’t worry. We won’t take any chances.”
“Just tell us what you need,” Andra said.
“Lexi is the only one capable of repairing the magic holding the wall together, but she’s not making any progress. Every time she gets close to finishing an area, it’s attacked again before her work is done. What we need is for you to stop that from happening.”
Andra was good with forcefields. She’d been good from the beginning, but she’d gotten better with practice. She wasn’t powerful enough to put up a field around the entire compound yet—at least not for more than a second or two—but she could cover a smaller area for a long time if she had access to Paul’s power.
“You want me to put up a field around her while she works,” Andra guessed.
“Exactly.” He shifted his gaze to Paul. “All I want you to do is guard your wife’s back and fuel her magic. No heroics. No running to help out the men.”
Paul was st
ill, but she could feel his frustration welling up between them. It buffeted the walls of the conduit that tied them together and made the luceria around her neck vibrate.
Joseph held up his hand. It shook so hard, Andra wondered if he’d eaten recently. “I know you can help in other ways, but I’m asking you not to. In fact, I’m going to ask that you give me your word not to leave Andra’s side, no matter what. This is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s going to take days for us to make any headway on the wall. You’re going to need your strength.” He looked at Andra. “And so are you. Don’t do anything to push yourself too hard or do anything that will hurt the baby. Promise me.”
Andra had no trouble giving the man her vow. “I promise I won’t do anything to risk my baby.”
As soon as she uttered the words, the weight of her promise settled over her, binding her to her word. No matter what, she wouldn’t be able to break her vow.
Luckily, hers was far easier to give than her husband’s would be.
“Paul?” Joseph prompted.
Andra felt his hesitation. He was a strong, proud man. He wanted to be capable of doing it all—protecting her and helping his brothers. That he couldn’t do everything grated on his sense of honor and duty.
Finally, he said, “I promise. I won’t leave Andra’s side.”
“Even if it means you stand and watch while other men die,” Joseph added.
Paul nodded grimly. “Even so.”
He stumbled under the weight of his vow, but recovered quickly. His voice was tight when he said, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Joseph’s shoulders seemed to bow under the strain of his position. He held Paul’s gaze, his expression grim as he said, “Prepare yourself, Paul, because it will.”
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan drove Serena back to that cave against his better judgment. He’d underestimated how hard it was going to be for him to let her get close to danger. Talking about giving her freedom had been easy. Actually doing so? He wasn’t sure his nervous system could stand it.
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