Stephanie Rowe - Darkness Unleashed (38 page)

"No." Ryland interrupted her. "Let me." And then, for what she was sure was the first time in his entire life, Ryland began to explain who he truly was. "I was born...or created...or whatever you want to call it...in the nether-realm," he began slowly, looking warily around the room as if assessing the reaction.

No one moved or tried to stop him, or leapt up with a battle cry and a weapon.

He kept going. "I wasn't a Calydon. I was a monster, and my job was to kill innocents. When Dante freed me, he somehow gave me many of the powers of being a Calydon, but I'm not really one. Not by birth, anyway. I'm not really one of you. Not completely." He paused again, as if giving them a chance to attack him now that they knew the truth.

But they didn't.

Gideon simply sat back down, and everyone in the room leaned forward to listen. Ryland glanced at her, and she smiled.
Go ahead,
she said.
They're ready to hear your story.

He enfolded her hand in his and walked farther into the room, taking her with him as he finally began to talk, lowering the walls that he'd carried for so long and letting them in. As he spoke, his voice changed from hard and bitter to something more soft and human. More open. More kind. He would never win a prize for being the world's most gentle man, but that was okay. He didn't need to be. He simply needed to be himself, which she suspected he hadn't been since the day Marie had died and he'd become enslaved.

As he sat down on the couch, still talking, answering questions from his team without resentment, Catherine knew she was watching the emergence of the man he truly was, the one he was meant to be. For the first time in his life, Ryland was finally allowing himself to be a part of this group. His teammates were listening with rapt attention, and the discussion was lively as they all discussed the implications of the queen and what Desdria would be up to next. Lily was already on her computer researching information about the cloaked Order members, and Gabe and Elijah had already decided to track them down and find Thano and Zach.

It was pure male bonding. It was obvious that, despite Ryland's edginess and surliness, they had always considered him part of the team, and they still did. The difference was that now, Ryland was seeing it for himself. He was finally becoming the Calydon he had never let himself be. It had taken him realizing he was their guardian angel for him to finally let himself accept how closely he was connected with them, but he had finally done it. She knew she was watching the merging of Ryland with the destiny he was supposed to have. He had never been a true Calydon before, but he was one now.

As she thought the words, she felt her arms begin to burn. She looked down, and to her shock, she saw the brands on her arms shifting, moving. Lines stretched and contracted, straightened and bent. As she watched, Thano's halberds disappeared, and Ryland's machete began to form. "Ryland," she whispered. "Look."

He glanced over at her, then his face went white with shock. He was beside her in an instant, his hand trembling as he clasped her wrist. "I don't understand," he whispered, going down on one knee as his brand took full form on her arm. He looked up at her. "Does that mean Thano's dead?" Guilt tore through him, his eyes haunted.

Catherine shook her head. "I can't sense his soul. He is still alive." Her blood bond with Ryland tied her closely enough with Thano that she knew his soul and could tell it was still with his body. "He's okay."

"Ryland." Elijah spoke from across the room, and they all looked over at him. "Do you remember how Ezekiel was able to bond with Ana through my blood bond with him?"

"Yeah." Ryland's fingers tightened on her arm. "So?"

"So, it was his bond that was happening through me."

"Yeah, like Thano's bond that was happening through me."

"Or maybe it was your bond that was happening through Thano."

The room was silent as Elijah's words settled, and suddenly it all made sense to Catherine. Elation flooding her heart, she knelt in front of Ryland, holding his hands to her chest. "Don't you understand, Ry? You couldn't bond with me yourself because you weren't fully accessing your Calydon side. But you had a blood bond with Thano, so you were able to use his Calydon powers to bond, like that cloaked warrior said." She smiled at his stunned look. "It was always
your
bond with me, but I couldn't carry your mark because you were holding back from who you were. Until now. Until this moment, when you finally claimed your heritage as a Calydon. That's why I can carry your mark now. You've always been the one for me, Ryland. Always."

He looked at her, and her heart seemed to melt at the awe on his face. "You're really mine?"

"Of course I am." She framed his face with her hands and kissed him.

And this time, when he kissed her back, there was nothing between them. Nothing but love. Ryland, the monster, had finally found his peace. She knew he would never be touchy-feely, and he'd always butt heads with his team, but that was okay.

She was an angel of death. It took a certain kind of man to put up with her, and she'd found just the guy.

I love you, Catherine.

She smiled.
I know. It's about time.

And there's one more thing.

She looked over at him, and her belly tightened at the sudden heat in his eyes.
What's that?

Now that I know you were never meant to be Thano's, you're not going to escape me anymore. Tonight, when we finally ditch these guys, I'm going to take you upstairs and make love to you until we incinerate the damned mattress. And then I'm going to do it again.

And with those beautiful words, the last of the emptiness finally left her, gone forever, chased away by the man she'd been waiting for. She grinned.
Okay.

He raised his brows.
Okay? That's all I get? Okay? How about something like 'I've been lusting after you so badly for weeks, I want you to just ditch the meeting, throw me over your shoulder and do it now. If you make me wait one more second to feel your body against mine, I will set fire to your house and punish you for centuries.' That would get my attention. I think you should say that instead of 'Okay.'

She laughed aloud at his remark, and then leaned forward.
Is that really appropriate to say to an angel?

His eyes darkened.
Of course not.

She smiled, unable to keep the wicked gleam out of her eyes.
Then you better call me Cat.

And with that, Ryland lurched to his feet. "I gotta go, guys. Cat needs me." Then, without even bothering to look back at his team, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed out of the room.

Heat suffused her cheeks as she braced her hands on his lower back and looked back at the team, unable to hide her giggles. They were all laughing, a knowing and somewhat smug look on all their faces, as if they were thoroughly enjoying the fact that Ryland was whipped. They got it, which was a relief. But at the same time...carting her off in the middle of a meeting?
Put me down, Ryland. This is completely embarrassing.

You think I care what anyone else thinks? I need you, Cat. Now.

Her heart softened at the desperate edge to his voice.
You're impossible, Ry.

His arm tightened around her thighs.
You better believe it, baby, and I'm never going to get any easier.

She grinned.
That's exactly how I like it.

You mean love it?

Her heart filled.
Yes, I mean love it.
And she did.

The Order of the Blade, Book Eight (Novella)

Available November 2013

In the beginning, many centuries ago…

He wanted her.

There was no way for Dante to deny his response to the whispered warning she had sent dancing along the breeze to him. He had no idea who she was, or what she looked like, but her voice was like the harmony of early morning, the whisper of new leaves brushing against the dew, the delicateness of flower blossoms coming to life. The energy of her words spun through him with restless temptation, prying him from his dark thoughts about Louis and the bloodbath he'd left behind.

In his world, craving a woman this intensely was a very,
very
dangerous thing.

He wanted to race toward her.

He wanted to rip aside the canopy of leaves shielding her from his sight.

He wanted to find her, to claim her, to consume her.

So, instead, he stopped and went completely still. He reached out with his preternatural senses, searching the landscape ahead. The mountain was ominously tall. Turbulent dark clouds coated the sky above him, but it wasn't enough to block her. He caught the faint scent of woman, pure and delicate, and his gut clenched in response. But still, he didn't move. Instead, he carefully located the pulsing energy of the sword she was guarding. She was between him and the sword, an obstacle that he had to pass in order to retrieve the weapon.

Testing her, he turned left, circling around behind her. As he moved, she shifted, keeping herself between him and the sword. She could sense him? Was her awareness of him as intense as his awareness of her?

He looked down at the protective symbols on his arms and saw they were still blazing. As long as they were visible, the
sheva
bond could not affect him. No woman could be his soulmate. He was still safe from that fate...but if that was the case, why was he reacting to her so intensely? He had no time for women. He had no time for seduction. He was never distracted from what he had to do.

So, what the hell was going on with her?

He had no time to play games any longer. He needed that sword, and he needed it now, which meant he had to get past her. He was tempted to call out his spears, but he didn't. Never would there come a day when he approached a woman armed. Ever.

So, instead, he straightened up, fisted his hands, and strode right through the undulating shadows toward her.

His feet were silent on the forest floor, and the leaves moved out of his way as he walked, responding to his silent request for passage, as they always did. Ahead of him, he could see that the trees thinned, and he knew he was approaching a clearing.

His weapons still burning in his arms, responding to the risk she presented, Dante stepped forward through the last of the foliage and into the open, exposed area.

He didn't see her.

Disappointment surged through him as he quickly scanned the vicinity. Trees stood tall above him, their branches long and spindly, tangling into each other, weaving a canopy that protected this area from the rest of the world. Sparse grass clung to barren dirt. Ancient rocks lay battered, half-submerged in the weary ground.  He could sense the suffering of this place, of the people who had once lived and died in this clearing. So much to tell him, and yet the one thing he wanted to know more about was hidden. He saw no sign of her, but her presence was strong, a vibrating energy of light and dark. "Show yourself," he commanded.

Again, no response. Not even another whispered reply on the wind.

Awareness still prickling on his neck, he walked further into the clearing, reaching out with his senses, searching for a ripple in the atmosphere that would reveal her location. Out into each direction he sent queries, and then he found her. A block in the transference of energy, a shield of sorts, in the northwest end of the clearing.

He turned toward it, his hands still flexing. Behind her, he could feel the sword's energy calling to him, more intensely than ever before. The urge to respond to its summons was thundering through him, almost impossible to resist, but he refused to acknowledge it. This woman, this mysterious woman who was guarding it, this sensual temptation of danger...she was what he needed to deal with first.

He kept his gaze riveted on the swirl of feminine energy that he'd located. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there. "I am going to take the sword," he said.

"No." Her voice was clear, a shot to his gut with the raw intensity of it. It wasn't simply feminine, it was powerful and strong, rich with sensuality. "Walk away."

"It's been calling to me." He took a step closer, and felt a sudden burst of wind slam against his chest, as if she'd shoved the air at him as a warning. Could she manipulate air? He'd never heard of that. "The sword wants me to retrieve it."

"Do not touch it." As the words filled the air, a faint mist began to glisten in the location he was watching, like millions of dew droplets in the first rays of morning light.

Adrenaline and anticipation roared through him, and he was riveted by the rainbow-colored prisms as they glittered and sparkled, becoming less transparent.  Then he saw her face beginning to take shape. An incredible, vibrant turquoise began to glow as it slid into the shape of her nose, a delicate slope of pure femininity. Smooth cheeks of perfection, the sensual curve of her jaw, parted lips. Her hair began to appear, tumbling down around her in violet and turquoise cascades of thick curls. And then her eyes. Dante stood, transfixed, as her eyes appeared, vibrant blue pools flanked with long, thick lashes, watching him intently.