Darkness Undone (4 page)

“It’s an allusion, not meant to be realistic.”

Her friend knew as little about art as Eve knew about...sex. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Then blew out an anxious breath. “This has to work, or else I'll be living on the street come month end.”

Brenna slipped her arm around Eve's waist and hugged her, careful not to touch her hands. “The sculpture’s beautiful, hun. And you can come live with me anytime. Maybe I get to see you a little more then. You work far too much, you know.”

“Soon, Bren, after the show, we can all get together. Since I have another home to go to, you're released from captivity,” Eve teased, returning Brenna’s brief embrace. “I’ll see you at the gallery.”

A rustle of feathers and cooing sounds came from her worktable, alerting them that they weren’t alone. Brenna pulled on her clothes then made a detour to the dove Eve had rescued outside her apartment several days ago. “Hey there, little guy. You ready to leave the roost, or do you like your new home too much?”

“Like he understands you.” Eve snorted. She reached out and stroked the bird’s gray, pearlescent feathers. A light, almost incandescent joy seeped into her. Animals were far safer to touch, no painful emotions at all. “I tried to get him to fly. He does everything but that. I’m hoping for a miracle. I don’t mind, though, I like his company.”

“You’re in good hands, then,” Brenna told the dove and picked up her bag from the table. “See you later, Evie.” She wiggled her fingers in goodbye and left the studio.

Eve went back to her sculpture, and when she thought of what was at stake, she pressed her hand to her knotting stomach.

Several months ago, she had quit her dead-end job, used up her small savings, and put everything she had into this. She’d been both terrified and exhilarated about taking charge of her life, leaving behind her safe job as a mural artist. But her show was fast approaching.

Unable to concentrate, she rubbed her hand down her sweats, her troubled mind drifting to
him
once again.

Last night hadn’t been a good one. The most erotic dream had drawn her into a place where she’d been manacled to a wall while
he
, just in his leathers, taunted her with a dagger. Helpless and under his absolute control, it hadn’t been fear coursing through her but unbearable desire. Her limbs had turned to molasses when his tongue followed the trail he made with the blade down her stomach… leaving her hot and needy.

Christ!
She had to stop this. Submission and domination games weren’t her thing. Jesus, she was still a virgin for crying out aloud. Eve rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands as if she could erase the images.

Last night, she’d totally lost her common sense. The man, it seemed, was a hazard not only to her life but also to all things that made her a woman.

Thank God she’d never have to see him again.

Reynner took form on the terrace of his home, built on a high ledge carved deep into the rock face of the Exilum mountains. It was a place beyond the veils of the human realm, accessible only through a portal, and a sanctuary for exiled immortals.

Railless balconies ran around the perimeter of all three levels. Reynner could see for miles on end. Not another soul in sight—just him, the cliffs, and the gigantic waterfalls. He liked it this way, preferred the isolation. Unfortunately, solitude was not an option with a moody prince in residence.

Sliding the doors open with his mind, he walked into the sparsely equipped gym with its smooth granite floors, rough walls, and recessed orbs in the ceiling. He inhaled deeply, trying to ease the unexplained restlessness prowling through him since he’d left New York.

It had nothing to do with
her
, he told himself, but with Aerén taking off
.

Usually, he didn’t care where Aerén disappeared to, so long as he wasn't trawling clubs on the human realm. But, dammit, he should have left a bloody note!

At the thought, Reynner’s mouth tightened. He’d wasted the night in the city, then an entire morning here searching for the prince, only to find Aerén on the mountaintop, near the waterfalls. Brooding.

He really wasn’t cut out for this babysitting chore, but he did it because of a friendship long lost. Besides, one didn't say no to the high ruler of Empyrea.

A figure materialized on the balcony moments later. Aerén walked inside, having followed him. He stopped near the doorway, his features drawn tight. His damp trews and tunic clung to his body, and his pale blue hair hung limply around his shoulders.

Two millennia had passed since Reynner had left Empyrea. The young, playful boy Aerén had once been had disappeared. In his place, a tall, muscular man stood, his lean face and tormented eyes bearing the tragedy that had ravaged his family.

Aerén’s oldest brother had been banished for the tragic death of their little sister, and with the recent disappearance of his parents…yeah, Aerén didn't have much to smile about. His only kin left was Daén, the middle-born son and now ruler of Empyrea.

“Are you training?” Reynner asked him.

“For Urias’ sake, Reyn!” Aerén glared at him, his silver eyes burning with unleashed emotions. “Strife plagues our dominions, our magic grows weaker, and life declines. I can’t be left here doing nothing!”

Reynner understood his concerns. Unlike other realms, the seven dominions of Empyrea resonated with arcane energy, siphoned from the seven mystical Stones of Light.

Two thousand years ago, one of the Stones had vanished and the link was broken. Their realm would eventually fade and die unless the missing artifact was found and brought back.

The green-eyed female had better be the one they sought. Heavens help them all if he was wrong.

First, Reynner had to get his hotheaded prince to calm down before he could go after her.

His body still far too tense, Reynner willed the door to open farther. He hoped the breeze would cool his ardor, but that thought got shot to Hades when his dick seemed hell-bent on reminding him of how he’d responded to her.

“Do you know who you ambushed and almost killed before Daén sent you to me?” Reynner asked, trying to shut off desires that had no place in his life.

“Rebels, who else?” Aerén’s lips curled in disgust. “Those insipid degenerates deserve nothing less than a slow, torturous death.”

“No. Those were Darkrean males returning home after a stint of hunting. Had you killed them, the Darkreans would have retaliated, and you would have started another civil war.”

“And you see a difference? Rebels, Darkreans, they are just leeches who will bleed Empyrea into oblivion.”

Reynner nailed him an annoyed look. “They are still Empyreans, and as such, it is Daén’s job as ruler to deal with this situation. You need to stand beside your brother and help him. Not be a bloody hindrance.” He hoped his words landed with the impact of a boulder on Aerén’s hard head.

He glared. Apparently not.

“You’re high-lord of Ademéras. What are
you
doing to protect your domain?” Aerén demanded.

“Ademéras doesn't need me, it has a ruler,” Reynner stated, his tone flat. “My mother can take care of her territory.”

Aerén stared at him in disbelief. “Lucan’s right. You have become cold and heartless.”

“It’s good you know that.”

“Hell sure killed you,” Aerén shot back.

“Be thankful you never have to live that shit. Now, get yourself in gear and train with me, or go vent your frustrations elsewhere.” Reynner stalked off to the other end and the small, roughly excavated space he used as a changing room, Aerén’s words following him.

Cold. Heartless.

They pounded in his head as he grabbed a pair of sweats and a tee from the wooden shelf. Pain, he could live with since it was his constant companion. But guilt ate at his soul, knowing he was responsible for Ariana’s death and for much of Aerén’s anguish.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he changed and headed back to the gym.

Aerén turned from the window, regret crossing his face. “Reyn, my pardon. I should not have said that.”

“It’s all true. I'm not what I once was.”

Eons ago, he’d lived for the fights, fun, and females—in any order.

“I guess none of us are. But I cannot be closed off here. I have to do something.” Aerén shoved an impatient hand through his damp hair. “Let me fight with you in the mortal realm.”

Reynner understood Aerén’s frustration and helplessness all too well, but it was far too dangerous. “I kill demoniis
,
Aerén. They're vicious, and they feed on the blood and souls of humans who cannot protect themselves.”

Except it wasn’t really about protecting humans. It was the one thing that gave him purpose after his escape from Hell, to end every one of the soulless fuckers.

“And for that you have to learn control, especially with the kind of powers we possess. Your shield slips even for a second, and you’d destroy more than just the city—you’d leave no survivors. You’d bring down the wrath of the archangel.

“Trust me, you don’t want Michael on your ass. Or worse, Gaia, the ancient goddess who watches over that world. You’re pissed at everything right now. Learn to control your temper, and then we’ll talk.”

Aerén’s mouth thinned.

Good. For a hothead like him, it must have been difficult to lock down his jaw.

Reynner pulled off his tee and tossed it on a bench. Aerén’s gaze honed in on the scar on Reynner’s left pec. He said nothing, but compassion flickered in his light eyes.

Irritation surged. He should have kept the damn shirt on. He didn’t want anyone to see his branding of shame, a moment of weakness that had changed his life and left him with an eight-point star on his chest, proof of a randy goddess’s ownership.

He’d been forced to reveal the truth when Aerén had come across him several months ago where he’d chained himself to the dungeon wall, out of his mind in pain. The only way he wouldn’t break free and give into Inanna when she summoned him by way of the mark on his chest. The pain she inflected was the price he paid for ignoring her calls.

“Don’t waste your pity on me. I deserve what I got.”

“To be owned by a whore goddess?”

“A lesson well learned—never trust a female, never promise anything. Now, are you joining me?”

Exhaling roughly, Aerén nodded and flashed out from the gym.

Reynner rolled his shoulders. Loosening the tight muscles of his back, he released his wings. A grunt of relief escaped him. The rustle of feathers caused a light breeze to sweep across the gym. His image in the windowpane reflected the cream-tipped and bronze color of his extremities. Keeping them hidden while in the mortal realm was a pain in the ass, but immortals could never call attention to themselves. Besides, he didn’t care to have his wings on display. And even more, he hated them being touched.

Glancing away, he set the treadmill for an uphill run. Not an easy thing, running with a six-foot wingspan behind him, but he needed the work out, to exhaust his mind and dull his endless pain.

“Why do you think I cannot protect myself?” Aerén asked, reappearing in a shimmer near the free weights, wearing gray sweats and a t-shirt. “I can so easily overcome any adversity.”

As if to prove his point, his body started to glow. The hairs on Reynner’s arms rose at the staticity—as if all the fiery energy in the realm had condensed inside Aerén and was minutes from releasing a deadly electrical storm.

Shit! A miss, and he could bring down this mountainside. With a flick of his hand, Reynner obstructed the flare with a psychic block. “Rein in that godsdamn power. I happen to like my house where it is,” he growled. “Dammit, Aerén, you’re a bloody prince, one I’ve sworn to protect. Just stay here—you’ll be safe.”

“
Safe
?” Anger darkened Aerén’s face. “You mean keep the spare heir safe, ready to take Daén’s place if anything happens to him. Is that what you think I want?”

“It’s not a matter of want, it’s a must. You are the carrier of all that is light. It’s in your blood. You know this. Empyrea will be restored to what it once was, and you
will
go back.”

In response, Aerén stormed out to the balcony and dematerialized.

That went well.

Inhaling an annoyed breath, Reynner tried to empty his mind of his problems while he ran, the power of each footfall adding to the burn in his thighs.

He focused his attention on the frothy white waters of the roaring falls, but it did little to ease him. He dashed the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Still, his edginess didn’t ease as thoughts of
her
persisted. His mind couldn’t let go, couldn’t rid itself of the damn peach scent that seemed to have settled inside him. Or forget how her warm, feminine form felt against his. His body heated, his groin hardened.

Shit!
He scaled over the handlebars of the treadmill and sprinted out onto the edge of the balcony. Retracting his wings, Reynner dove in a free fall into the churning, icy waters of the plunge pool far below.

***

A while later, Reynner left his room, coat in one hand and his cell phone in the other. If the female from the club was really the one they all were looking for, he had to find her fast, before the Darkreans did. They wanted rule of Empyrea, and they would do anything to get their hands on her. At the thought of those emotionless bastards taking her, his stomach knotted.

No! She meant nothing to him except as a device to be used in his search.

Scowling, he headed for the stairs leading to a well-lit circular foyer. His phone beeped. He glanced at the display and frowned at the reminder.

David’s opening. Artist Inc. Gallery. DON’T BE LATE!

What the hell—this wasn’t his phone.

Reynner backtracked to the last time he’d used his cell…the previous evening in the club. His heart kicked up a notch.

This was
her
cell. Their phones must have gotten switched when they crashed into each other, a meeting he’d orchestrated. He checked her voice messages.

An annoyed female snapped,
“Eve, where the hell are you? I called you several times today!”

“Eve,” he breathed her name.

Finally, something worked in his favor. He scrolled through her messages, a clear invasion of her privacy—like that’d stop him—and opened an unread text from David.

Okay, not mad you haven’t answered my calls. Guess you're working, eh? See you at the gallery. Is later tonight still on?

What the hell was going on
later tonight?

His gut twitched, jaw clamped—dammit. He had no business worrying about
that
aspect of her life. His first priority was to make sure she was the one he sought, and to keep her safe until she completed the task of awakening the scroll to find the Stone.

Too bad for little green eyes, saving his world trumped her tryst.

Reynner slipped the cell into his pocket, walked outside, and found Aerén there. He stood precariously on the edge of the balcony, hands shoved in his sweats pockets. He glanced back, his gaze sweeping over Reynner’s leathers and the coat he’d hooked with a finger over his shoulder. The bleakness in his eyes scored a layer off Reynner’s closed-door attitude.

“I may have found someone who can awaken the scroll,” he said. He had no clue if this Eve could rouse the ancient parchment. Just because her magic blood did strange things to his dick meant nothing. But the question of
why
settled in his head, gnawed a hole and refused to leave. Brutally, he shut it off.

“The mortal’s been found?”

At the flicker of excitement in Aerén’s expression, Reynner wished he hadn't opened his yap so soon. “Don’t get your hopes up just yet. The scroll responds only to the touch of one whose blood will awaken it. I’d have to make sure she is the right female first, then find a way to convince her to help us.”