Stone of Ascension (10 page)

He guided Amber forward with a hand to her back. The lack of connection left him cold. The collars were blocking the flow of energy between them, something he hadn’t anticipated. He had come to expect and welcome the heat.

His muscles tensed at that acknowledgement. She swiveled her head to look at him. She noticed it too.

Once again, he doubted his actions. His instincts were flashing bright red warning signals. But what were they trying to tell him? Whatever it was, he would need to figure it out fast. In a short time, he would be facing a community of people he hadn’t seen in a millennium.

Since the day he was exiled from the enclave.

Amber paced around the small, empty room they were locked in. She itched with a suppressed craving that left her feeling both agitated and oddly empty. Her fingers rubbed absently over the smooth, hard surface of the collar around her throat.

“What’s going on?” She paused and faced Damian.

Xan had led them out the back of the farmhouse into the warmth of a sunny spring day. Amber couldn’t even process how that was possible. Understanding the events of the day had become an exercise in futility. So she simply stopped trying. Instead, she focused on taking in the details in the hopes she could use them to get away. The urgency to run had only increased with each mile they rode in the little golf cart closer to the large, circular building they were now locked in.

In the short ride, Damian had become her anchor and only constant in the perplexing world that surrounded her. Should she trust him? Probably not. But her options were slim.

He looked around the small room then rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. His arm froze when he touched the strange black collar. His jaw tightened and he dropped his hand.

“We will be presented before the full council, who will pass judgment on my claim,” he finally answered.

“The claim that I’m the Marked One?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?” She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of his coat to still her anxious movements, one hand brushing against the carved box from the stone. “What will happen to me?”

He looked at the ground. “I don’t know. It will depend on if they believe me.” He looked up, his face impassive. “If they believe that you are truly the prophesied one.”

“I’m not,” she insisted again. She looked at him and tried to convey the truth of her words. “There’s no way I’m that person. I cannot manipulate energy or wield power over the elements of the earth. I’m just a simple antique dealer. Nothing more.”

He stepped forward until he stood before her. “You are much more than that. I know this for certain.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear before he dragged his fingers through the long strands. “I can feel it. So can you if you stop denying it. There’s a reason for the mark on your hand. A reason I was called to you.”

Her heart raced not at his words, but at his closeness, his tender touch. She inhaled his unique scent, that hint of pine, a tinge of salt and grass…all the various aromas that were carried by the wind. The combination raced through her, tightened her nipples and made her ache.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” He stepped away, jammed his hands in his pockets and paced to the other side of the room. “I don’t understand it all myself.”

“But you still insist on turning me over to these people?”

A small tick flickered at the edge of his jaw. “I have to.”

“Why? Why do you have to?”

It was his turn to pace. Brisk, quick movements back and forth along the far wall. Amber waited, unwilling to give him an out. Finally he stopped and faced her.

“It’s my way back into the enclave. I was exiled a millennium ago. You’re my ticket back.”

“You’re what?” She stared at him in shock, betrayal gripping her. “So my life is expendable and means nothing to you? This whole kidnapping me and claiming I’m some prophesied power of disaster is nothing more than an excuse for you to save face? So you can return to some community that kicked you out a thousand years ago?” She turned around, unable to look at him anymore. She didn’t even trying to process the thousand-year time span he’d stated.

On second thought, she spun back and strode over to him. Before she could think about the consequences, Amber brought her hand up and slapped him across the cheek. The sharp smack of skin against skin echoed through the tiny room. Her own hand stung from the impact with his flesh.

His eyes widened and flashed. His nostrils flared and the tic went wild on his clenched jaw. But he didn’t move. The silence hung between them, her haggard breaths the only sound in the room.

“I deserved that,” he finally bit out. “But don’t ever do that again. You will not get away with it next time.”

The red mark was still bright and fresh on his cheek, and Amber had a need to make it redder. To make sure he understood just how much he’d hurt her. What did it matter at this point? He could harm her or she could wait for some assembling crowd to stone her death. She might as well get in some hits before she went down.

“You are a selfish ass,” she said with a calm restraint she didn’t feel. “For some stupid reason I’d started to trust you. I felt the energy between us.” His eyes flashed imperceptibly. “Yes, that strange current of heat that passes between us at every touch, I felt it too. I listened to it and believed we were tied somehow. That you wouldn’t hurt me. What a lie.”

She reached back to hit him again, despite his warning. The force of her anger was put into the forward motion of her hand. She needed to hear that sound again and feel the pain against her hand. A physical communication of just how badly his betrayal felt.

Her hand was stopped just inches from his face, his grip firm around her wrist. They stared at each other, the anger stirring in his dark eyes only raising her own. She was tired of being walked over. Of being perceived as weak. And damn it, she wasn’t going to let this man take her down. Not without a fight.

“I told you not to hit me again.” The low warning was given in even, measured tones.

Her chest heaved with each gust of air she inhaled. “And I told you to take me home. You didn’t listen to me so why should I listen to you?”

“Because I never threatened you with violence.”

“No, you just plan on turning me over to those who will do it for you.”

“That is not true.”

“Then what is true?” she challenged, tugging on the hand still clamped in his wrist. “Do you plan to let me go? To take me home?” His eyes flinched almost imperceptibly, but she saw it. “No, I didn’t think so.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor as the resignation set in. Her hair fell forward to form a dark cloak around her face. The veil provided an almost tunnel vision down to the toes of his impeccable, black leather dress boots. The need to strike at him was still strong.

“You present an image of sophisticated righteousness, but beneath that cool exterior lies a heartless, selfish man. One who will use someone else for gain, even if it means hurting that person.”

“That is not true,” he venomously denied. His grip tightened on her wrist, but not enough to hurt her. He jerked her closer until her chest was inches from his, her eyes level with his neck. “You know nothing of me. I have sacrificed the last thousand years of my life because I believed in the truth. In good. In doing what is right.”

“Then listen to me. Believe what I’m telling you.”

“How do I know you’re not manipulating me?”

“If your body responds to our energy the way mine does, then you’d know that I have no control over what is happening,” she insisted. “The heat, the burning, the flash of sensation that eats at my core is not something I want. Something I’m manipulating.”

The sound of his deep inhale broke the silence and caused her to look up in question. The second she saw the heated intent, the hunger that deepened the blue of his eyes until they were bright pools of desire, she realized her mistake.

She stood transfixed, unable to move as his head descended in a quick, conquering move. Fear stiffened her muscles as flashes of Nate invaded her mind.

Despite the quick, fierce approach, Damian’s touch was gentle. His lips firm but yielding, not plundering. The light brush held such promise, such hints of passion that she found herself stretching up, reaching for more. Wanting more.

Anticipation flared, heating her from the inside out, blending with the sudden flash of energy to send hot licks of longing through her body. Some part of her brain realized she should be scared, that this was something she shouldn’t want. The insanity of it was beyond reason. To desire the very man who had abducted her, put her life in danger, was crazy.

But she did want it. Desperately.

Her fingers clenched into fists as his free hand moved to cup her cheek, holding her still to meet his lips in another pass of sultry longing. His lips were soft, smooth silk that brushed over hers in question, doubt and desire. Each pass a bit harder, longer, more commanding.

Her pulse accelerated as the kiss deepened and the energy surged from the stone, whipping out coils of heat, overriding the collars and burning her with a desire that stole her breath. Every nerve ending was alive and vibrating with the sudden need for this man who held such questions and mystery. Who offered her a world of unknown passion and danger.

A low moan escaped when his heated tongue stroked over her lips—hot, tempting and inviting. Not taking. He let go of her wrist, and she tentatively rested her palms on his chest when the loud clearing of a throat rumbled behind them.

She stiffened. He froze.

A mumbled curse left his lips. His hold on her loosened as he lifted his head, his eyes guarded under hooded lids.

What was she doing? Abruptly, she pulled out of his grasp and stepped away from the inviting heat of his body. The energy sparked at the separation then slowly dissolved, leaving her empty.

“It’s time to go,” Xan said, his deep voice sounding like a freight train as it shattered through the tension in the room. “The council is waiting for you.”

She looked at Damian, hope building that he would change his mind. That after that kiss he would realize she was innocent and wasn’t the Marked One. That he would want to help and protect her.

Disappointment settled deep and hard when he nodded and moved around her toward the door. Between the two of them, he was clearly a bigger bastard than the circumstances of her birth had ever made her.

And she was a gigantic fool.

Chapter Nine

“So you return.” The voice boomed through the circular stone chamber, rocketing off the walls to bounce against Damian’s eardrums. The room was filled with people, all sitting in raised, stadium-style seating ascending ten levels high. Every seat was filled, but the sound echoed as if the room were empty.

Amber and Damian were the sole focus. Every angle scrutinized and judged.

Sweat trickled down Damian’s stiffly held back. He lifted his chin, refusing to be intimidated. He could feel the eyes on him. Hear the snickers at his return. Sense the condemnations that were still held against him.

“I have,” Damian answered.

He stood next to Amber in the center of the chamber. Two lambs trapped, the wolves circling and hungry. He’d set the trap himself and now he needed to ensure that they both made it out safely.

“I hope whatever made you return was worth your freedom.”

Was it? Doubt plagued him more than ever. The kiss had been a rash impulse, a lapse in control that he was now paying for. His attention had to be on the man before him. On what he had come here to do.

But the pull to protect her was raging so strong, it was hard to focus. The flash of pure energy that had fired through him when she’d kissed him back had spoken of desire and belonging that set his senses ablaze. The pure innocence that came from her made his chest tighten with the intuition that this was wrong. Bringing her here was wrong.

Turning her over to them, walking away from her was wrong.

Damian sniffed, and his lips thinned, but he schooled his features to show nothing. He reminded himself of his primary objective and forced the words out. “I have brought the Marked One.”

A collective gasp echoed through the chamber, followed by a low murmur as the occupants leaned toward each other to debate his claim.

Damian didn’t look at Amber. He couldn’t. The flash of betrayal that had crossed her face after the kiss was seared into his memory. Instead, he trained his eyes on the man who stood on a raised pedestal about halfway up the row of seats.

Cronus, the council Elder, was cloaked in the formal, long white robe of the chamber room. Behind Cronus to the North sat the Head of the House of Earth robed in brown, and Damian knew without looking that each direction would find the remaining Houses—Air to the East, Fire to the South, and Water to the West. The chamber room was laid out like the compound itself with each elemental power aligned to the navigational direction it represented.

“The Marked One?” Cronus’s voice rang out over the sudden din, hushing the crowd.

“Yes.”

“Show us.” A simple demand filled with challenge and doubt.