Forever in Darkness (novella) (Order of the Blade #4) (3 page)

He reached the spot he wanted, in
the furthest, darkest corner of the dance floor, then he turned her toward him.
Wariness flashed in her green eyes, but her cheeks were flushed and he could
scent the desire racing through her. Whatever he was feeling, she was experiencing
it too. The realization that the intense sensuality heating up between them was
completely mutual kicked his lust into high gear.

Ian didn't give her a chance to
hesitate or change her mind. He simply set his hands on her hips and pulled her
against him, and she let him.

The moment he felt her hand settle
on his shoulder, Ian knew that was exactly where she was supposed to be: in his
arms. He looked down at her as he slid his hand over her lower back, softening
his grip when he felt her resist as she tried to keep their bodies from
touching. Her pulse was hammering in her neck, a desperate flutter that he
wanted to press his lips against and ease.

Instead, he took a deep breath to
calm his lust. "Who are you?" he asked softly as he tunneled his
fingers through her thick hair. Sweet Jesus, it felt unbelievable to have her
in his arms. "And how come you aren't dead anymore?"

Wariness flickered in her eyes, and
he knew before she answered that she wasn't going to tell him.

As if he could accept that.

The woman had died twice already.
That wasn't the kind of thing a guy could let go.

Alice's heart was hammering, and
her skin felt hot as she stared up at the man who seemed to consume the very
air he breathed. He dominated the room, his presence so strong and powerful it
seemed to diminish everything around him. He smelled faintly of fresh earth and
perspiration, the scent of a man who was sheer, raw male. Her entire body was
thrumming from his touch, and she felt as if her skin was on fire where his
hand was pressed against her lower back, urging her closer to him.

His brown eyes were dark and
intense as he watched her, moving her gracefully in time with the music as he
waited for her answer. She felt as if he was looking right through her, ferreting
out all her secrets, unearthing everything she was trying so desperately to
survive.

She knew she should feel terrified
of him, with all his strength and power, with the way he towered over her, but she
didn't. She couldn't take her gaze off his face, off the intensity of his
stare, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him, that she'd met
him, that somehow they had crossed paths before.

He'd called her Catherine.

Catherine.

How had he come up with that name?
Had it been a fluke? A coincidence? Or was he not the stranger he seemed to be?
What did he know? And could it help her? She whispered a silent prayer that
this man, that this sensual, alluring male that was awakening such desire in
her had answers that would help her. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Ian Fitzgerald," he said
easily, with just the faintest hit of a brogue beneath his words, as if he'd
once had it but had lost the accent so long ago that it was no longer a part of
who he was.

His name made chills roll down her
spine, and she shivered at the sound of it. But why? She was sure she'd never
heard it before. "Who are you?"

His eyes darkened even more, and a
hooded shadow took over his face. "I kill bad guys."

The answer was not the truth, not
the entire truth. She could see from the tension in his jaw that he was holding
back, but at the same time, the pride in his voice told her that there was
truth in his words.

The man holding her so possessively
in his arms really did kill bad guys. Sudden hope flared inside her, leaping to
life. Dear God, was he her answer? "Are you for hire?"

Ian's grip tightened on her, and he
hauled her against him. Their bodies smacked together with an impact so intense
it sent spirals of heat coiling through her. She tried to lean her shoulders
back, to keep her breasts off his chest, but his muscular arm tightened around
her, locking her down against him. "You're in danger." It wasn't a
question. It was a declaration that he'd figured out her deal, and he didn't
like it. His voice was rough and harsh, and she felt his barely contained fury
raging through him.

Ian's protective response was like
a firecracker, igniting something inside her so powerful she suddenly couldn't
keep herself away from him. For so long, she'd been trying to protect others. No
one protected her. Ever. It went against the very essence of what she was. It
was literally against the foundation of nature for someone to try to keep her
safe.

And yet, here was this powerful
male claiming that right.

Dear God, it felt amazing. Tears
burned in her eyes, and she slid her hands over his shoulders and behind his
neck, allowing him to crush their bodies against each other. She could feel her
heart hammering against his chest, and she knew he could feel it, too. It was
crazy, insane, her response to him, but she couldn't help it and she didn't
want to.

This man was so intense, so much more
than she'd ever met before. He was strong enough to charge right past all the
rules and regulations surrounding who she was and what her role was in this
world. And he knew about her. She wasn't sure exactly what he knew, but he had
a history, a knowledge, an intuition…
something.
She knew, because he'd
called her Catherine. Plus, the idea of her being in danger had unleashed
something so fierce and protective inside him that it made every part of her
respond, and the agony of the shadows in his eyes called to her heart.

This man was so much, and she
wanted him. She needed him. She wanted to throw herself into his safekeeping
and climb inside his soul. "Yes," she said finally. "I am in
danger."

His grip tightened on her, his eyes
blazing as he pulled her so tightly she could barely breathe. "You did
die, didn't you? Twice? That really happened?"

Alice caught her breath at his
question, and she stiffened. "Why do you ask that?" How would he
know? Unless he'd been there. Unless he'd been part of it. Sudden fear congealed
inside her. Was that why he was familiar? Because he'd been there? Had he been
one of those sent to make sure she died? Was he her next ticket back to hell?

Frantic, she pulled back, startled
when he loosened his grip enough to give her space.

But she quickly realized that he
hadn't actually released her. He was still holding her, still in a position to
haul her back into his arms if he chose to. Her heart started racing again, and
this time, it wasn't from heated desire or intense sensual awareness. It was
the raw fear that she'd just met her next death.

His eyes narrowed, and his fingers
tightened around her arms. "Catherine," he said softly. "You
don't need to fear me. I can't hurt you—" Then something flickered in his
eyes, a brutal acknowledgement that he hadn't actually spoken the entire truth.
He could hurt her. He could kill her. She could see it in his eyes.

"Let me go," she gasped,
trying to struggle out of his grasp. It was too soon to die again. She needed
more time! She grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off her. Her hands
closed over his forearm, and searing heat burned her palm. She jerked her hand
back and saw what she had touched.

Black brands in the shape of an
ancient weapon, burned into his flesh. Stunned fear shot through her and she
stared at him. "You're a Calydon."

"Order of the Blade." There
was no mistaking the pride in his voice, but she didn't care, not anymore.

She started to back up.
"Calydons are part demon," she said. "You're demon.
You're
demon.
"

Ian narrowed his eyes. "I'm
not a demon—"

"Of course you are! It's what
gives you your powers! Demon magic!" The scars on her chest from the last
attack began to ache, a reminder of what she was to the monsters of hell.
"I—"

"Catherine!" He grabbed
her just as she lunged for the door. His hand closed around her arm as she
tumbled out into the back hallway.

She tried to twist free, but within a split second, she found herself pinned against the wall by the powerful
warrior. His hips were against hers, and her hands were above her head. He
kicked the door shut, cutting them off from the rest of the world and isolating
her in the rarely-used back hallway of Deliverance.

Her heart began to hammer, and fear
rippled through her. Fear and desire, in some inane mix of emotions. How could
she possibly be responding sensually when he had nearly attacked her and pinned
her to the wall? How could she be responding to him sexually regardless of what
he was doing to her? She didn't have physical responses to men. Not like this.
It wasn't allowed. What was going on? She swallowed, trying to keep her voice
steady. "What are you?" she demanded. "I need answers, and I
don't have time for this."

"Don’t have time?" he
echoed, raising his brows. "What, do you have plans to die again? Got a
date with death you can't be late for?"

She hesitated. There was that
question again. Why was he asking that? Didn't he know? Was he not there to
hurt her? "Did you kill me before?"

His eyes narrowed. "You don't
remember?"

"I—" She paused,
uncertain how much to share. Was he the enemy or something else? Something less
dangerous? Like her salvation, or something equally impossible and unrealistic?

"Catherine." Ian's voice became
low, and it thrummed deep inside her. She became so aware of the heat of his
body as he pressed against her, of the cold wall on her back, of the pulse of
desire low in her belly.

He took a lock of her hair and
wrapped it around his hand. "I need to know," he said, his dark eyes
searching hers, so full of agony and despair that her heart broke for him.
"Did you die on me twice? Are you the same woman I met? Are you the woman
I thought I lost twice already? Or am I losing my damn mind?" His grip
tightened on her hair. "Tell me," he said urgently. "I need to
know."

Alice's heart began to pound at his
desperation. It plunged straight into her heart, because she lived with that
same desperation every minute of every day, or she had ever since that night
five years ago when she'd lost the one person who breached the shields in her
heart and opened her soul.

Ian lowered his head and pressed
his face in the curve of her neck, a gesture so intimate and personal that she
wanted to cry.

"You smell right," he
said softly. "You smell like the woman I was born to be with." Then
he lifted his head, and there was such agony in his eyes. "You smell like
the woman who will destroy me."

"Me?" She laughed softly
then, a release of tension like a gift of fresh life. "Ian, I can't
destroy anyone, trust me. It's logistically impossible."

Ian ran his hand over her shoulder,
his palm warm against her skin, his dark eyes hunting hers. "Why not? Tell
me, Catherine. I need to know."

Alice shook her head, her body
trembling from his touch. Dear God, how could he affect her like this? She'd
never responded to a male like this before. It was terrifying how badly she
wanted him, but at the same time, it made her feel more alive than she'd ever been
before…which was sort of ironic, given what she was. "I can't," she
whispered. "I'm bound to secrecy. I couldn’t tell you what I am even if I
wanted to."

He pulled back then, his eyes so
haunted. He searched her face, and she saw the moment he grasped what she was
saying. That she truly didn't have the ability to tell him.

To her surprise, he didn't ask why.
He didn't question it. He didn't even seem rattled by it. He simply arched one
brow and offered a challenge. "Do you
want
to tell me?"

As she stared into the face of this
powerful warrior who, with a single touch had ignited desire in her that was so
foreign to her that she hadn't even thought it was possible for her to feel it,
this male who already knew things she could never explain, this warrior who was
so powerful that maybe, just maybe, he could help her… And she knew her answer.
"Yes. As God is my witness, I wish I could tell you and then you would
throw me on your gleaming white stallion and save the damned day. I need a
fairy godmother, and she's been completely derelict in her duties, so I'd be
willing to take a knight in shining armor. I'm kind of outmatched right now, to
be honest." She stared at him, afraid to hope, terrified to put her trust
in a man who might be the one to finally do her in. "Can you help
me?"

"I'm no fairy godmother, and
armor would impede my lightning fast reflexes." Humor twinkled into those
dark eyes, the first flash of lightness she'd seen from him, and it made
something deep inside her want to smile. Smile? Seriously? Now? But she did.
"I have a gleaming black motorcycle," he said. "Will that work?"

She wrinkled her nose, astounded at
how good it felt to banter with him. She didn't even understand how she could
do it, not with everything she was dealing with, but somehow, this ultra-burdened
warrior eased the weight on her soul just enough for her to feel like she could
breathe again. "I doubt it. There's never anything about motorcycles in
fairytales."

"Well, damn. They need to be
written then." As Ian spoke, he leaned closer, and in a sudden flash of
panic and a rush of desire, Alice realized he was going to kiss her.

She slammed her hand against his
chest, a useless gesture against a man so powerful, but he stopped. "Don't
kiss me."

His eyes darkened with a desire
that made her pulse leap. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he pried her hand off
his chest and raised it above her head. He pressed it against the wall, flattening
her palm against the cool plaster. He bent his head, his lips so close to hers
that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

Desire rushed through her, and her
body began to tremble with the need to respond to him. "I can't—"

"I know you can't." He
brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth, and she closed her eyes, stunned
by the tenderness of the touch. By the intimacy.

"Dear God," she
whispered. "How can you make me feel like that?"

"Because we're destined for
each other." He kissed the other corner of her mouth, lingering ever so
slightly over the kiss. "You're mine," he said, "And that means
that I can feel your emotions. I can hear your thoughts." He kissed the
bow of her upper lip. "It means, my love, that I can learn the things
you're not allowed to tell me."

Alice's eyes flew open, and she
stared at him. "That's impossible."

He released her wrist, and her hand
fell to her side as he took her face in his hands, framing her cheeks in his
powerful grasp. There was such intensity burning in his eyes, she felt her
whole body ignite from the fire. "You don't understand, do you?" he
asked.

She swallowed, riveted by his
stare, by the heat of his hips still pressing against hers, by the way her
entire soul was screaming for him, for this stranger who had plunged past all
her safeguards and somehow made it into her very soul. "Understand
what?" she whispered.

"That there is
nothing
on this earth that could ever stop me from tightening the connection with you
until our souls are so intertwined that each breath we take breathes life into
each other, and our own heartbeats can keep the other one alive."