Darklove (23 page)

“You won't survive me, Riley Poe. I thought I'd never escape that hell Valerian entombed me in.” She laughs, but her gaze is locked solid on to mine. “Much to my surprise, he set me free. Thought his power over me was enough to make me obey his commands.” She laughs again. “What a foolish, selfish little prick he is.”

“What do you know? We finally agree on something,” I say.

I stare at Carrine, her lips pulled back into some weird catlike gaping-hole-of-a-mouth specter as an unfamiliar language pours from her lips. A curse? Black magic? I don't know, and I honestly don't give a damn. Forcing all of my energy to the center of my body, I draw a deep breath, pulling the energy from my core to my fingertips. I . . . throw it at her.

And her arms rise, too, and her energy is thrown right the hell back at me.

Together we stand, our energy forces colliding in an electric punch, and I can feel her severe witchpireness. It's strong. Tough as shit.

But she doesn't have a fiancé. A life. A family.

Somewhere deep inside me, it all collides together, and like a tornado it rips from my body. Carrine is flung back, far, and her body crashes against a contorted Celtic cross.

I dive toward the scathe, palm it, and roll to my back. Carrine is in the air, almost upon me.

I fire. Direct hit, right in the heart.

Carrine's scream pierces the air as her body bursts into shards, and by the time the pieces hit the cemetery ground, they've turned to dust. It's like a volcanic ash fallout.

My body is thrown to the ground, and my head hits hard. Stunned and shaken, I take a second or two to realize Eli has moved. He stares down at me now, has me trapped.

For some reason, I'm only worried about Carrine. Not once does it occur to me that Eli would be a danger, regardless of whether he knows what he's doing.

I know it now.

I've misjudged him.

Eligius Dupré, my love, my fiancé, may not be under Carrine's control any longer, but he's in full-blown bloodlust, and he hovers over me now, fully morphed, his face contorted and disjointed. His red gaze focuses on the pulse at my throat. I dive left, and his hand encircles my ankle and yanks me down, my head slamming into the ground. I feel his hand go around my throat, squeezing, lifting me off the ground. For a split second, I'm eye level with him. His bloodlust ones stare hard into my human ones. He doesn't see me, Riley Poe. He sees what he craves, what surges within my still-human veins, and his body is propelled by the desire to have it. My blood. Yet he cocks his head to the side, studying me. Again, hesitating.

Dread fills my insides, even as I slide my hand to the back of my pants and grip the hilt of a silver blade. I ease it out. Without changing expression, Eli's fingers tighten around my throat, and my eyes bulge from the pressure. His other hand covers mine holding the blade, and he squeezes until the pain is too much and I drop it.

He's going to lunge. Sink his teeth into me. Drain me of blood until I'm an empty shell, then throw me aside. I can't move. I'm paralyzed. With fear, dread, and an overwhelming broken heart. My brother's face flashes before me, Preacher's and Estelle's, Nyx's, even my dog Chaz's. I'll never see my loved ones again. . . .

My eyes close. I'm powerless to move him.

I'm going to die by Eli's hands. . . .

Then, unbelievably, he loosens his grip, and I'm free. . . .

My eyes snap open, just in time to see Eli smash into a tree.

Standing before me, Valerian Arcos stares down at me. His face is unmorphed, aristocratic, and beautiful. Perfect. He smiles at me, reaches a hand toward me. “Come to me, my love. At last.”

My feet begin to move. Toward him. His full lips pull over perfect white teeth in a victorious smile. “That's right,” he croons. “Come here, Riley.”

I focus. Concentrate. Imagine my core a fireball of energy.

Valerian merely smiles at me wider. “Stop that, Riley. 'Tis a waste of time. You should know me well enough by now. When I desire something, I get it. Just like I desired Carrine's power to coerce you into killing Dupré,” he sighs. “Although I didn't count on him fighting her control so much. Nor her being so rebellious.”

I glance at Eli, who is standing now. Shaking off his injury.

“Oh, wait,” Valerian says. “You took care of her rather well, my darling. You have quite the power within in. But trust me. I have full Strigoi in my veins. You've got . . . simply a dusting of it. And by the way, your little message to my idiot brother? He always was a weak one. He didn't have the balls to tell my father.” He shrugs. “Just so you know.”

I stare at him. Hatred pools inside me. Not a feeling I relish, but I can't help it.

“Let's see here. Ah yes. Let me finish this . . . distraction.” He glances at Eli. “Shall you do the honors?” Valerian asks me. He grins. “Yes. I think you should. I can't very well be the cause of a vampiric war, can I?”

“Won't work this time, Valerian,” I challenge. I grin.

“We shall see.” His expression hardens. “Go to him. To Eli. And take your silver and plunge it into his heart. Do it now.”

My fireball core is boiling hot. I stand, staring at Valerian. Again, I grin. And I don't move.

“Go now!” he commands.

I feel his will, his strength, trying to penetrate my core; it doesn't. I smile at him. “Go fuck yourself, Arcos.”

Valerian's brow pulls into a hideous frown. “Very well. I'll risk a war—”

Everything happens so fast after that.

Valerian's features morph into that of the hideous Strigoi bloodsucker that he is. He lunges at Eli, and I throw my cored energy into my legs and leap at them both. Valerian and Eli are entangled, fighting, jaws snapping, and I wedge between the two and, with all the power I can control, throw Eli as far as I can. His body sails, knocking over tombstone after tombstone like dominoes as he crashes. Only then, once I see Eli on the ground, do I feel the piercing of skin, ripping of artery, and fiery intrusion of Valerian's poisoned toxic fang as it enters me. I turn and look at him, my hand flying to my throat. He snaps back, his face confused, contorted. Filled with agony. I stumble backward, something warm and sticky trickling between my fingers at my throat. Already, my vision begins to blur.

A rumble rises, roars, and vibrates within me as a body flies past and rocks into Valerian. I shake my head to clear my vision. Shock steals my breath.

Victorian Arcos, in one fierce twist, takes the head of his very own brother.

Another roar pulls my attention back to Eli. I'm falling now, stumbling like I've had too much tequila, and I see another figure fighting him. They tangle, twist, and the other figure throws his head back, dreads pulled into a queue, and Noah sinks his jagged fangs into Eli's throat.

I stumble back, horrified, dizzy, and I hit the ground on my backside. My energy is spent. My scatha—I've been clutching it the whole time—drops from my hands. I fall back on the cold cemetery ground and stare skyward. No stars. Just blackness. Oh yeah, I'm in an alternative world. Nothing's real here anyway except the creatures and souls within. . . .

Victorian's flawless face and warm brown eyes stare down at me. His mouth is moving furiously, and he is shouting my name. I can't hear him. But it's my name. He grips my shoulders and shakes me, and he falls to his knees and scoops me up. He must be running with me . . . somewhere. My body begins to convulse, my breath quickens, stops in my lungs, and I can't breathe. I'm clawing at Victorian's shirt, his hair, but he's running fast, his head turned yelling at someone over his shoulder. I can't hear who. His face is drawn tight in fury and concern, but he doesn't look down at me again. I think I see tears streaming down his face. Fear pits my stomach, but I can only stare. Only straight ahead. I grow weak fast, and now my arms fall helpless. I feel like I'm floating again. Where's Noah?
Please, God, please at least let Noah get out.
A black curtain is pulled over my eyes, wrapped around my head until I can't breathe, and I see nothing, hear nothing . . .

•   •   •

Nausea. Ears drumming. Voices. I don't know where I am. I try to get up, can't move my arms. My legs. I can't even turn my head. Eyes won't open. Pain. My flesh is ripping apart!

“She's moving around too much,” a voice says.

“She won't break out of that.”

“You said that the last time she broke out of it.”

“Shut up and just tighten them.”

“You tighten them.”

I try to speak. My mouth is frozen, stuck in place, like my lips are sewn together

Finally, I give up. . . .

•   •   •

Pain roars through me, skidding along every nerve and pathway inside my body, and I scream so hard my insides quiver. I still can't see—something's tied around my eyes. I force my core energy to my arms, my legs, and I push so hard with my mind that whatever's holding them down flies off. Curses, shouts, as whatever I'm in rocks back and forth, jolting me forward. I catch myself, and just as my fingers fly to my eyes to remove the blind, a body hits me. We crash to the floor.

Suddenly, I'm overcome by a powerful sense of . . . sexuality. Erotica. Deep-core horniness that makes me scream and grope at the body pinning me down.

“Someone better fucking hurry up over here,” the voice on top of me says. “If she gets loose, someone's in trouble.”

His breath brushes my lips as he speaks. I reach, wriggle beneath him. Gotta have him . . .

“Hold her still,” a voice says.

“I might like her kind of trouble,” a new voice comments. Accent . . . funny. Hard to understand. Familiar.

“This is as still as she gets,” the voices says on top of me. “Hurry.”

A pinprick, and as soon as the sensation has begun to claw at the body hovering over me, it disappears. I settle, ease, and the pain leaves me as I drift into a weightless black cloud of nothingness. . . .

The ebb and flow of waves against the shore pull me out of my deep slumber. The heavy brine of salt and sea life wash over me, and I inhale. Familiar.

“Hey,” a voice says gently. “You're back.”

I'm on my back, a thick softness below me, and a chilly breeze lifts my hair. I open my eyes and blink rapidly as the light pours in. Finally, my eyes can tolerate the sudden change and I focus on the figure kneeling beside me. His face grows closer, and he reaches out and strokes my cheek. I lift my hand and thread my fingers through his.

“Noah,” I say, and my voice comes out croaky and broken. My throat feels as if someone has dragged a handful of thorns across it.

“Shh,” he says, and covers my lips with his finger. He leans closer, mercury eyes searching my face. “How ya feeling?”

I look at him. “My whole body aches.” My gaze goes beyond Noah's figure, to the lean-to palm roof I'm lying under. Several feet away, the edges of the sea wash up onto the shore. It's late afternoon, and a low sun falls somewhere behind us. “I'm at Da Island?”

Noah nods. “Yeah, darlin', you are.”

I stare up at the palms covering my head. Fear chokes me into a panic, and my breath hitches in my throat, quickens. “Noah?” I don't even know what to ask, or what to say. I don't know what's happened.

“What do you remember?” he asks. His hand squeezes mine.

I concentrate. “The realm. Victorian.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Jesus Christ, he killed his brother,” I say. Then my eyes flash open and I force myself to sit up. “You,” I say on a painful whisper. “Eli—you bit him. Noah, Christ—”

“He's alive,” Noah says with a smile. “Fine, no, not yet. Far from it. He's in deep detox. Deeper than you, Riley. Couldn't even keep him on the same island as you. I'm surprised even on the same continent. He's not out of the woods yet. He's . . . in it bad.”

I sit back and my brain hurts from trying to sort things out. I push my fingertips to my temples, massaging, trying to force the memories out. “I don't remember anything.”

Noah chuckles, and another biting breeze whips through. “Yeah, I guess you don't. Another hell of a plane ride. Had to take two jets. You on one, Eli on the other.”

I stare up at the fading sun peeking through the makeshift roof made of scrub palms and pine limbs. I'm not as settled as I should be, hearing that Eli made it out of the realm. “Tell me everything, Noah,” I say. Tears choke my throat and claw behind my eyes, and finally, they escape. “Where's my brother? Preacher? Victorian? Rhine?”

Noah reaches over with a finger and wipes my cheeks. “It's just you and me here, darlin'. We have the island to ourselves. Rhine and the Ness boys are fine. Had to make that young pup return to Inverness. He wanted to come here, watch over you, insisted on flying back with us. He left a couple of weeks ago, and he calls or texts me every day, asking about you. And yes, everyone else is . . . alive.” He narrows his eyes. “You sure you're up to this?”

With a gusty sigh, I nod. “Might as well be.” Relief washes over me. Rhine and the boys are safe. Everyone is alive.

Noah scoots close, pulls me up in his arms, and settles me against his chest. He pulls the patchwork quilt—one I recognize is made by my Gullah grandma, Estelle—over my legs and waist. “This is going to take all night.”

SACRED VOWS

I'm your density. I mean . . . your destiny.

—George McFly to Lorraine Baines,
Back to the Future,
1985