Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Bound By Darkness (18 page)
Typically Rafael ignored Tearloch’s obvious wish to be left in peace.
The wizard more and more often forgot he was a slave to Tearloch’s will.
“Master,” the spirit murmured.
“What do you want?”
“I believe there is something you should see.”
Tearloch turned a reluctant gaze toward the gaunt face that hovered in the shadows, a shiver of loathing inching down his spine.
“More surprises?”
“Please, if you would come with me?”
Words of denial hovered on his lips.
He was tired and his head ached.
Could he not have an hour without having to sort out some new disaster?
Then, knowing Rafael would remain hovering behind him like some sinister wraith of doom, he heaved a resigned sigh.
Who knew being the leader was such a pain in the ass?
Ariyal always made it look so easy.
Well, maybe not easy, he conceded, vaguely recalling the hours of endless abuse at the hands of Morgana le Fey.
But he had never complained.
“Fine.” He turned to meet the sunken eyes that flickered with crimson fire in the shadows. “What is it?”
The spirit gestured him to follow him back through the dark corridors, returning to the cavern where they’d spoken earlier. Once there he crossed directly toward the shallow pool in the floor, pointing a skeletal hand at the images that hovered on the surface of the water.
“Look.”
Tearloch was already prepared for the sight of the Sylvermyst who was standing in what looked like the middle of a barnyard.
“Ariyal.” Regret stabbed through his heart before he was hardening himself against the sight of his brother. “I already knew he was near.”
“But not alone.”
Rafael gave a wave of his hand. The image scanned back to include a beautiful, raven-haired woman who paced through a human kitchen, her fingers stroking the butt of the shotgun holstered on her hip.
“The vampire,” he breathed.
“His lover. Such a pity,” the spirit crooned, his words dripping like poison. “She has obviously clouded his mind. They are plotting to come and kill the child.”
Tearloch scowled. The treacherous wizard wasn’t fit to speak Ariyal’s name.
“What does it matter? You said your powers would prevent us from being followed.”
Rafael grimaced. “His ability to sense you is greater than I suspected. He should never have been able to follow us from London.”
“I warned you of his power.”
The spirit shrugged. “He couldn’t know your precise location or he would already have attacked.”
“Then why are you bothering me?”
“Because of this.”
There was another wave of his hand and the scene changed, revealing the graveyard overhead. It took a second for Tearloch to notice the misty shadow that drifted toward the entrance of the caves.
“A spirit,” he said, tensing in surprise.
It wasn’t a full-blown apparition. Merely a ghost that was easily called and easily dismissed. Which meant that it had been conjured to gather information rather than to perform a specific task. Ghosts were incapable of taking solid form.
“One of yours?” Rafael murmured.
“ No.”
“Can you get rid of it?”
“Yes, but the moment I do then Ariyal will know that I’m here.” Tearloch pressed a hand to his aching head. “Damn. We have to leave.”
“Wait.” Something in the wizard’s voice suddenly eased Tearloch’s panicked urge to flee. “Do not be so hasty. I believe we can use this to our advantage.”
“How?”
“The ghost is clearly approaching us as a spy.”
“I’m not stupid,” Tearloch snapped. “I know why Ariyal conjured the ghost.”
Rafael pressed his hands to the pendant hung about his neck, a faint smirk curving his thin lips.
“Then why don’t we allow him to see what we want him to see?”
“And what’s that?”
“The babe.”
“That’s your plan?” Tearloch’s sharp burst of laughter bounced against the polished wall of the cavern. “To lead the most powerful of all Sylvermyst and a vampire directly to the child we have risked everything to keep hidden?”
Rafael smiled with an eerie anticipation.
Gods. The Cheshire Cat from hell.
“The child will merely be the bait.”
“Bait for what?”
“To lure the two of them to a very special section of the caverns that was specifically designed for my enemies,” the wizard explained.
Tearloch swallowed a resigned sigh. Of course there were caverns devised to capture, and no doubt torture, the wizard’s enemies. He suspected that Rafael had been even more of a paranoid, ruthlessly brutal bastard when he’d been alive than he was dead.
“A trap?” he demanded.
“Precisely.”
Tearloch hesitated, revolted by the thought of deliberately luring Ariyal into Rafael’s trap.
It went against everything he believed.
But what choice did he have?
Ariyal had lost sight of the true path during their time on Avalon. Now it was Tearloch’s holy duty to restore the Sylvermyst to their former glory.
Of course, he didn’t have to like it.
“This had better work, wizard,” he warned. “Or we’re both on our way to hell.”
Chapter 14
Jaelyn paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, refusing to glance out the window where Ariyal stood in conversation with a blob of mist that hung in the air.
It was just ... wrong.
Who used a ghost to do recon?
It would give any sensible demon the shivers.
Which was why she was hiding in the kitchen instead of questioning the creature herself.
Wasn’t it?
Reaching the wooden table she came to an abrupt halt, heat blasting through her at the memory of being perched on the edge with her legs wrapped around Ariyal’s thrusting hips.
She had told herself that she didn’t want to be around the creepy blob of mist, but if she was entirely honest with herself she would admit that she’d needed a few minutes away from Ariyal to try and patch back together her shattered defenses.
Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon.
She wrapped her arms around her chilled body, unable to ignore the tug of awareness nestled deep inside her.
Dammit, she didn’t want to dwell on her connection to Ariyal.
Even if she wanted to mate with a Sylvermyst who was as annoying as he was gorgeous, it was never going to be in the cards.
Not only would the completion of the binding mean that Ariyal would have to commit fully to becoming her mate and exchange blood with her, but she would have to convince the Addonexus to release their best Hunter when the potential end of the world hung over them all like Damocles’s sword.
Accepting that being alone wasn’t doing a damned thing to help, Jaelyn was relieved when Ariyal’s voice cut through her dark broodings.
“You can come out now.”
She moved to the door, scanning the darkness. “It’s gone? I mean gone, gone?”
Ariyal’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Those remained guarded, unreadable.
“Yes, he’s been returned to the underworld.”
“Good.”
“I can’t believe a vampire could be squeamish about a spirit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest as he watched her descend the wooden steps and cross the yard to join him.
She shrugged. “The dead should be allowed to rest in peace.”
“Moving on to the afterlife doesn’t guarantee peace, poppet. It’s a rare spirit who rests easy in their grave.”
Well, wasn’t he a bundle of joy?
“Have you considered the possibility that they might be perfectly content until you start messing with them?” she asked wryly. “Anyone would be cranky at being jerked out of the underworld and forced to become a slave to a fairy.”
There was a fleeting heat in the bronzed gaze as it skimmed down her body.
“There are some who are positively giddy to be my slave. I have that effect on women,” he murmured, as if she needed a reminder of his potent sexuality. Hell, he literally screamed sex. “And a surprising number of men.”
“Conceited ass.”
“Confident,” he corrected, a fleeting heat flaring through his bronzed eyes before he lowered his head to kiss her with a harsh frustration.
For a crazed moment Jaelyn returned his ferocious kiss, her hands grasping his shoulders as she went on tiptoe to arch against the addictive heat of his bare chest.
Then reality slammed back into her and she was pushing him away with a low, pained growl.
“No, Ariyal.”
He stiffly stepped backward, his expression once again indecipherable.
“We should go.”
“Did you discover what you needed?”
“The spirit was able to locate Tearloch and the babe.”
“Where?”
He tilted his head toward the north, his hands fisted at his side.
“A series of caverns less than three miles north of here.”
So close?
For no reason at all a chill inched down her spine.
“Why do I sense this is a good-news/bad-news kind of deal?” she asked.
“The good news is the child is currently alone in one of the caves.”
“And the bad news?”
“Besides Tearloch there are half-dozen Sylvermyst as well as the wizard.”
She frowned, studying the arrogant perfection of his face. She could sense the emotions that churned beneath that careful mask, and she hated the knowledge he wanted to keep them hidden from her.
“That was more or less what you expected, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He silently debated her question before he at last heaved a sigh.
“I don’t know.”
She arched a brow. “Maybe you can be a little more vague?”
“I think you should stay... .”
“ No.”
His eyes blazed with a bronzed fury. “Dammit, Jaelyn, there’s a very good possibility that this is a trap.”
“All the more reason you need me to go with you.”
“You were trained better than that, Hunter,” he rasped. “If I don’t return then you must alert your Oracles that I have failed and that Tearloch will soon use the child to resurrect the Dark Lord.”
He was right.
If her current task was to retrieve the child and save the world from the Dark Lord, then she would have to concede that it was preferable for one of them to sneak into the caverns while the other waited to determine if it was a trap.
But she had been charged with staying near Ariyal and keeping track of his movements.
Which in this moment suited her just fine.
“They aren’t
my
Oracles,” she denied.
my
Oracles,” she denied.
“We aren’t going to argue about this.” He slashed a hand through the air, looking every inch a prince. “The only sensible plan is for me to try and rescue the child while you find a sun-proof location to wait out the approaching day.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Don’t you mean won’t?”
The air smoldered with the force of his barely restrained power.
Jaelyn stood her ground. “No, I mean I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I have to remain with you.” She met his gaze squarely. “That’s all I can say.”
She braced herself for Ariyal’s explosion of anger. Even a threat to lock her in the cellar and leave her to rot.
Instead he held on to his grim control, taking a deliberate step backward.
Not that he needed to.
Jaelyn could feel the mental barriers he was erecting between them without the physical demonstration.
“And you accuse me of being vague.”
She wanted to ... what? Plead for his understanding? Demand to know if he thought this was fun and games for her?
She hadn’t asked to become a pawn for the Oracles, had she? Or to become entangled with the one male in the entire world who treated her as if she was something more than a killing machine.
And she certainly hadn’t asked for her emotions to be stripped bare after decades of believing they had been efficiently destroyed.
“I don’t have a choice,” she ineffectively muttered.
“Of course not.” A humorless smile curved his lips. “Tell me, poppet, if I weren’t your current duty would you already have taken off?”
Well, he certainly wanted his pound of flesh.
She fingered her shotgun, shifting beneath his bleak gaze. She’d rather be skinned alive than to continue this agonizing conversation.
“Being a Hunter means I must go where I am commanded to go.”
“And that truly does put me in my place, doesn’t it?”
With liquid grace Ariyal turned on his heel and headed across the barnyard, his spine stiff and his head held at a proud angle.
“Shit.”
A brutal pain seared through Jaelyn as she forced herself to watch him walk away.
As much as she might ache to follow, she forced herself to remain standing alone in the darkness.
She didn’t know jack squat about men, but she did know that you didn’t poke at a lethal predator when he was licking his wounds.
Even if they were just superficial.
Ariyal wasn’t a vampire, after all.
And she doubted that Sylvermyst mated for life.
In a day or two she would be a bad memory that he could tuck away with those of Morgana le Fey.
Telling herself that was exactly what she wanted, Jaelyn stood immobile, feeling as if the slight summer breeze might shatter her into a million pieces.
She lost track of time as she stood there; then the distant scent of blood abruptly destroyed her full-blown bout of self-pity.
What the hell?
She was flowing past the outbuildings to a small pond at the bottom of the hill before she realized that the blood she smelled wasn’t Ariyal’s but that of a feral pig that Ariyal had obviously sacrificed to increase the power of his blade.
Her panic eased, but not her need to seek out Ariyal and make certain he was unharmed.
It was a compulsion that refused any logic.
Vaulting over the sagging barbed-wire fence, Jaelyn continued forward, not halting until she was kneeling beside the Sylvermyst, who was crouched next to the water, washing the blood off his hands.
He didn’t turn his head. In fact, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge her arrival at all as he shook the water off his hands. Then, rising to his feet, he grasped his sword over his head, the blade glowing with a white-hot magic.
“What are you doing?” she stupidly asked.
Anything to break the awful silence.
His gaze remained locked on the sword as he sliced it through the air in a slow, practiced pattern.
“Preparing for battle.”
She watched his graceful dance as he performed the ancient Sylvermyst ritual, her heart clenching at his sheer beauty.
His hair shimmered with colors of autumn, his delicately crafted features set in lines of a warrior, and his body honed to an elegant weapon.
Only when he was finished did she straighten, squaring her shoulders for yet another clash of wills.
During her wild run down the hill she’d come to a decision, and now she wasn’t going to be denied. Even if it was destined to drive a greater wedge between them.
“There’s no need for battle,” she said.
He sheathed his sword. “That’s the hope, but we both know our luck isn’t that good.”
“I could improve our luck.”
He turned to meet her stubborn gaze, his face carefully devoid of expression.
“How?”
She crushed her pang of regret. This was how it had to be.
Strictly professional.
“I have the ability to travel in and out of the caves without being sensed,” she reminded him. “Once I’m wrapped in shadows no one will be able to track my movements, not even the wizard. It only makes sense that I go after the child.”
He was shaking his head before she even finished. “No.”
Her brows snapped together. “Have you forgotten there’s a spell on the child that will prevent you from even being able to touch it?”
“I’ll figure out something.”
“But ...”
“I said no.”
Her hands landed on her hips as she glared at him. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Dammit.” She stepped forward, poking a finger into the center of his bare chest. Okay, so much for being strictly professional. She was suddenly so mad her fangs throbbed. “I’m sorry if it offends your male pride that I’m not a helpless woman who needs a big, strong man to take care of me, but this is who I am. I’m a Hunter, and that means I’m stronger and I’m faster and I’m better trained than ninety-nine percent ...”
He was moving before she could react, grabbing her upper arms in a punishing grip.
“This has nothing to do with my pride,” he growled. She made a sound of disbelief. “Really?”
“Really.” His glare seared over her pale face. “Okay, I’m male enough to occasionally want to flex my muscles just to prove I have them, but I would never want you to be less.”
She stilled, savoring the feel of his warm hands against her skin. It didn’t matter that he held her in anger. She was so hungry for his touch she would take whatever she could get.
Pathetic.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It’s your power and your beauty and your stubborn independence that make you who you are,” he said, as if the words were being yanked from him. “I would never change that. Not ever.”
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