Back From Hell (18 page)

Now though, now there was light. It shifted through the fog in shafts of brightness that nearly blinded her. As she drifted closer to the light though, the coldness didn’t get better.

Wasn’t that light the end?

Unwanted, unwelcome and unbidden, that damn voice whispered to her again,
No. It’s not the end. Not for you. You don’t want the end.

Snarling, she tried to scream into the darkness, “I do want it!”

But she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form the words to argue with the man.

Shouldn’t she feel better, not worse? Yet the doubt and regret and grief inside her being grew, and she faltered.

A voice drifted to her through the dark. But this was a different voice. One she knew. It was achingly familiar, but who was it…

Not…time…

Jenai sobbed, and it hurt. Even speaking hurt, like she was pushing broken glass through her throat instead of words. “Please,” she gasped out. “I’m so tired…”

Not…your time. Ah, my lovely Jenai, my beautiful child…it’s not your time.

Those words. She squinted through the darkness, trying to see anything besides the blinding splashes of light that forced through the fog. So familiar.

A scent flooded her head, one she remembered so well. White Diamonds…baby powder. “Mama…”

There was a soft laugh.
Go back, Jenai. This is not for you…not yet.

“But I’m tired,” she pleaded. “I hurt. I don’t want to fight anymore. Stephanie…she can find Varnell. She’ll finish him—I’m too tired.”

The air around her tightened, swelled with pain that wasn’t her own. Jenai felt hot tears trickle down her face.
Baby…you never had to fight for me. I didn’t need justice, although I know you did. It’s time, though, that you fight for yourself.
Those last words, instead of a whispering echo, seemed to throb within her mind. Some of the weariness ebbed and she could think beyond the pain that seemed to encompass her very being.

“Fight,” she whispered, shaking her head. “What’s to fight for?”

But even as she spoke, the lights that had taunted and teased her faded. And she was once more lost in the darkness.

* * * * *

Ronan had seen a person fade before.

People of the
autre
were more prone to it—the powers they harnessed, the way they were more aware of themselves physically and mentally, the
autre
were just better at it.

What a lovely thing—for a people to be good at willing themselves to death.

But usually, he saw it in the more ancient of his kind. Older vampires who’d walked the world endlessly and were tired of it, or weres who had lost their mates and simply couldn’t fathom going on alone.

Not in somebody quite as young as Jenai.

Or as determined.

He stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at her. Her skin was no longer just pale—it had become translucent. He could see the fine network of veins under the fragile shield of her skin, even see the pulses beating at the crook of her arms, in the hollow of her neck.

Fear flooded his mind.

Had she given in? Was her soul her own anymore, or had she yielded to the incubus that held her? Death at the hands of one like him, even if she willed it herself, could lead to her becoming a shade. Shades were still bound to the world they died in—drifting forever in the world between life and death, bound to their master, trapped in servitude until the demon that controlled them at their death truly released him.

Ronan closed his eyes for a long moment.
No.
Even if she chose to pass on, she wasn’t going to spend endless years as a shade.

Lowering himself to the bed, he braced himself over her, resting his weight on his hip and the hand he had fisted by her side. “Jenai…”

She didn’t stir. Closing his eyes, he dropped his shields and waited. He could feel her. Relief burst inside him, flooding through his being like a riptide. If he could feel her…

“Indeed. She’s not gone yet. And she’s not mine, either.”

Ronan rose slowly, turning his head to stare at the thing standing in the doorway. The incubus had skin that gleamed like solid gold, hair the color of flame and eyes that burned like the fires of hell. His very presence seemed to flood the room—it wasn’t evil that hung in the air though.

Ronan knew evil.

This was…nebulous. Doubt, anger, grief…regret. Weariness.

Narrowing his eyes, he slid his shields back up, not trusting what he was feeling. “Who are you?”

The demon smiled. “The master here. I am called Azar. But I’m not what you came for. She is.”

Ronan inclined his head. “But in order to get her, don’t I need to deal with you?”

The laugh was low, throbbing, almost silky. “Child, if I had wanted to keep you from her, you never would have stepped foot within my domain.” His lids drooped, shielding those very disturbing eyes from Ronan. “But she is running out of time. Call her…while you can.”

A derisive snort escaped Ronan as he stood there before the demon. “Like you’re just going to let me?”

As his mouth curled in a slight smile, Azar shrugged. “That was the plan. I do not want another woman’s soul—no more shades lingering around me.”

At those words, Ronan realized just how very empty the air around him was. A demon that powerful—and Ronan knew he was powerful because his strength beat at Ronan’s mental shields like a whirlwind—should have shades thick in the air around him.

“And if I call her…then what?”

“Then you go. Take her.” Azar shrugged one heavily muscled shoulder. “Return to your world, and leave mine. You don’t belong here. She doesn’t belong here.” His eyes closed and a sigh racked his entire body. “Creatures with hope—they have no place here.”

Suddenly, sadness hung in the air so thick Ronan could barely breathe through it. His throat ached and a knot seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his chest. And then, like a switch suddenly flipped, the emotions were cut off. The demon’s eyes cut toward Ronan—and it was
cold
.

He could hardly think beyond just how cold he was. “Cold,” Azar purred, his voice low and beguiling. “That is how she feels. Why don’t you warm her?”

Like a puppet on a string, Ronan slowly turned, staring at the pale limbs of the woman he loved, stretched on the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing growing ever more shallow. “Call her…”

The bed dipped beneath his weight as he sank down beside her, stretching out full length. For some bizarre reason, he trusted the unnaturally beautiful demon behind him, knew he meant what he said. Which left just one problem—bringing Jenai back before she slipped too far away.

Her flesh was cold under his hands as he trailed the pads of his fingers up one slender arm. Far too cold. And she was still—unmoving even when he touched his fingers to the sensitive skin of her nape. The pulse there was thready, weak. Lowering his head, he pressed his brow to hers and whispered, “Come back to me, Jenai. I just found you—I’m not ready to lose you.”

Pressing his lips to her cheek, he murmured, “Come back.”

Her breath sighed out of her, but she was still just as motionless as before, her limbs loose, lax as he rubbed his hands down them. Skimming his lips down the curve of her cheek, down her jaw, over the line of her neck, he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just above the pulse beating there.

Ronan buried his face in the curve where her shoulder met her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he lowered his shields. Dimly, he was aware of the demon who watched, but mostly he was aware of her, the very thing that made her who she was, the woman he had loved since almost the first second he had seen her. Fading…

Desperate, he threw back his head and screamed out a denial. It sounded like the howl of the wolf—echoing through the lair, inside his head.

It was so faint, he almost missed it.

No sound really, just a change in the air around him. Like somebody was looking back at him. Looking
for
him.

“I’m here, Jenai,” he whispered, lifting his head and staring down at her pale face.

Her lashes fluttered.

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers and murmured against her mouth, “I’m here. Come to me.”

Though no sound left her, he heard a sob. Something echoing from the world beyond, where she was trying to hide. “No. Don’t hide away. Don’t leave me.”

A long silence passed and then finally, words…again, nothing she voiced, more of something she thought in the silence of her mind.
I’m cold.

Ronan sat up, dragging her body with him, pulling her long form into his lap. Was it just his wishful thinking, or was her body a little less pale?

“I’ll warm you, Jenai. Come back to me and I’ll keep you warm forever.”

The next time he pressed his mouth to hers, he felt her gasp. Smoothing one palm down her torso, he whispered, “That’s it. Feel me. I’m right here, and I won’t ever leave you. I won’t let you leave me.”

Her body stiffened in his hands and her lips parted. Her eyes remained closed, but a flicker of life crossed her face. “Ronan…”

Catching one of her hands, he brought it to his face. “Yes—it’s me, Jenai. Open your eyes. See me.”

Her fingers curled almost involuntarily, the tips of them caressing his cheek for one second before she tried to jerk her hand back. “A dream. Not real… Why would you be here?”

Ronan kept his grip firmly around her wrist, bringing her fisted hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m here because I need you. Come to me, Jenai. I’m so empty without you.”

There was a shift in the air around them—a tightening and then she shuddered. Her lids lifted, and Ronan found himself staring into the bottomless depths of her silver eyes.

Her lashes flickered. “Ronan.” Her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He laughed, a shaky, relieved sound as he lowered his head, pressing his brow to hers. “Looking for you, love. Just looking for you.”

That thick black fringe of lashes lowered, shielding her eyes. Then she bucked, jerking in his arms. “No!” she wailed.

“Silence.”

Power rolled through the room and Ronan once more became aware of the intimidating presence that stood there with them. Lifting his head, he found himself lost in the black depths of the demon’s eyes.

In his arms, Jenai trembled, soft mewling whimpers leaving her throat. “No! I was almost free from you! Let me go!”

The demon chuckled and moved closer, staring down at Jenai with what looked like…affection in his gaze. “Pet, you already are.”

Darkness swarmed up, claiming both of them. Right before the world fell out from under Ronan, he heard a voice murmur, “Go back to where you belong…together.”

Chapter Thirteen

Her entire body felt like one huge bruise.

Sleep beckoned, called to her like a lover, but Jenai knew she had to open her eyes. All around, she felt danger.

Lifting her lashes, she found herself lying on the floor in a room that looked vaguely familiar.

To her left, she heard a groan and she slowly rolled her head to the side, lifting her gaze until she could see the man’s face. It was in profile, but she knew those features. They’d haunted her for a long time.

Ronan…

His lashes lifted and their gazes met. Licking her lips, she asked huskily, “What’s going on?”

Before he could answer, there was an enraged shout. Instinct had her rolling to a crouched position. A wave of dizziness rushed at her and she braced one hand on the floor, staring in the direction of that angry voice. A door.

Again, it looked familiar. But…where in the hell was she?

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

Lifting her head, she looked to the right and saw Ronan was already standing. Nodding, she pushed slowly to her feet. He caught her arm when she swayed and she found herself leaning against him. Something hot and sweet moved through her as his hand cupped her face. “How do you feel?”

Her lips opened and before she even knew what she was going to say, she responded softly, “Like I’ve just gotten back from hell.”

Something flickered in his eyes. His lips parted and she thought he was going to ask something, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned, studying the room.

Trapped—Jenai thought suddenly. One door out of this room, no windows, and whoever was at that door didn’t sound happy. As if to emphasize that, it shuddered under impact as somebody hit it. Somebody
strong
—more than human.

Then there was an explosion, something that rocked the entire building. Jenai was still trying to clear her head, trying to
remember
, when Ronan caught her hand and jerked her to the door. “Now. We have to go…
now
.”

They ran from the room—past a doorway that looked as though somebody had busted the entire wall out. And Jenai saw something familiar, a dark head, a long braid, a leather-clad body.
Stephanie!

“We’ll catch up with them later,” Ronan muttered, dragging her down the hall. People lay in dazed heaps on the floor, staring with confused eyes at Ronan and Jenai as they passed. As they reached the landing, some of them were starting to move. Ronan never paused, never gave Jenai a chance to breathe, just kept moving.

They made it to the lower level before most of the people inside seemed to focus. But as they hit the door, voices started to rise, and eyes turned their way. Jenai tried to force her body to move quicker, but she felt so tired—

Ronan caught her and before she realized what he was doing, she was hanging face down over his shoulder. “Sorry, love, but we have to move faster than that.”

With his shoulder jammed into her belly and her head hanging upside down, her dizziness increased. But they did move faster. Jenai was damn near in a daze by the time Ronan stopped running. But he only stopped long enough to change his means of transportation from foot to car. She had barely settled into the passenger seat before he took off, tires squealing.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” she asked. Her throat felt tight—her words sounded husky even to her.