Heart of Stone (19 page)

She knew that ancient rasp: the Stone of Igarle. She reached for the stone, just a feather-light touch.
Whose memories?

Mine.

She took a slow, deep breath. Most stones absorbed some emotion from the humans who handled them, but she'd never heard of one that recorded events without a human link. Then again, she'd never encountered anything like this stone before.

You woke me,
it whispered.
So long have I slept, never to touch another since the Before Time. Then you were there, after so long. So very long …

Pressure crushed down on her chest, and her tattoos flared anew. She tried to sever the connection, but the stone clung to her like a drowning man to driftwood, sucked her in further. Swamped her with its anguish. A sob erupted from her throat. So black. So alone. Eons passing, each the same as the one before. Her eyes flooded, and tears overflowed down her cheeks. Always alone. Shouting, yet never heard. The most torturous of existences, cut off from contact with anyone or anything.

So much to share. So much to tell.

Her muscles contracted in unyielding spasms, forcing her to curl into herself, clasping her knees. Her throat tightened. She couldn't breathe. Cramped. Dark. Too much to say and no one to hear. Until now.

Images crashed into her consciousness, one after the other. She gasped for breath, tried to keep up. But the deluge hammered her brain like hard summer rain against a tin roof. Relentless. Too much at once. Couldn't see. Couldn't understand. She struggled to focus, but control slipped from her shaky grasp.

Darius,
she whispered in her mind.

*   *   *

Darius burst out of his room in the guesthouse, hurrying along the pool toward the main house as fast as his damned knee would allow. The sun hadn't yet risen, and the night echoed the black anguish that had awoken him from a sound sleep, flooding his empathic senses and filling his mouth with the essence of burned coffee and rotten vegetables. Then the darkness had cut off, leaving him panting and sweaty with cold dread weighing in his gut. He'd reached for Faith out of instinct. Nothing. She'd vanished from his empathic radar.

Until she whispered his name.

He'd thrown on shorts and a T-shirt and scrambled out of his room. His body protested the impatient pace he demanded, but still he forged on, searching for the mate link. He found it, a frail, quivering silver strand. Good, she was alive. He grabbed hold of it, wrapped it around his own essence, and used it as a rope in the storm to guide him home.

Guide him to Faith.

He made it to the house, ignored his nemesis—the stairs—and went for the elevator. Whatever would get him to her faster. When he finally flung open the door to her room, his heart nearly stopped.

Faith was curled in a fetal position on the bed, shaking, her face pale and her eyes wide and cloudy. Tears gleamed on her cheeks in the dim light from the hallway.

“Faith.” He said her name, with his voice and with his mind. He sat on the bed and reached for her. She remained curled in that ball, and his attempts to straighten her stiff limbs met with no success. Her muscles seemed to be locked in this rigid form, and he didn't dare try to force it, lest he hurt her.

He hauled her into his lap as she was, wrapping his arms around her, and followed the mate link into a maelstrom of memories.

His normal empathy had shut down. Everything he got, he received through the mating bond with Faith. Anguish. Desolation. But not from her. From the Stone of Igarle.

The sheer magnitude of the stone's longing for contact smothered like a wool blanket on a hot summer day. Darius pushed his way through the emotional muck as if he swam in a strong current, the bright light that was Faith flickering in the distance. He sent reassurance along the mate link, hoping to reach her. Hoping it would make a difference.

The stone must have sensed what he was doing. The black sludge grew thicker, swirling around him like tar, weighing down his arms and legs. The muck slipped into his nose and throat, drowning him. He tried to shove aside the black ooze, but it piled on even more. He couldn't walk, could barely move, could hardly breathe.

They had to break this connection.

Faith
.
Let go!

*   *   *

Faith heard Darius from a distance. She turned in a circle, disoriented by the tar pit–like wasteland where she found herself. How had she gotten here?

Darius?

She saw him now, far away, just as she had seen him the last time the stone had entangled her. He gave off a blue glow, with a silver ribbon leading back to him, but he was in trouble. The black goo of the stone's toxic emotions had piled on him from his feet to his chin, trapping his arms at his sides. She ran toward him, following the ribbon and dodging piles of stagnant, seething, ancient emotions. This was the second time the stone had captured her, and this time she wasn't even touching it.

It was more powerful than she'd thought. And it was ticking her off.

Faith
. Darius called to her again.
Follow the link. It will lead you home
.

The stone protested.
No! Stay. I have so much to tell you, so much to show you.

But Faith dodged the new tentacles that tried to wrap around her and headed for the blue light that was Darius.

When she reached him, the ooze had crept up his chin to his mouth. He kept spitting it out, his gaze on her. He couldn't talk without swallowing the stuff. She shoved her hands into the muck covering his chest, against his heart, and began to sing.

She sang of loneliness and forgotten times. Of bittersweet promises left unfulfilled. Of betrayal and love and the things that should have happened and didn't. Of what did happen, and shouldn't have. She sang the song the stone needed to hear, until with a nearly audible sob, the blackness melted away, releasing them.

Faith snapped back to herself in the real world. With a groan, she sat up, Darius steadying her as she stretched out her arms and legs with slow, easy movements. She heard the stone whispering, lamenting, trying to coax her back in, but she wasn't biting. As long as she didn't respond to it, it couldn't trap her again.

Trying to get the kinks out, she twisted at the waist and found her mouth inches away from Darius's. Reality hit her with a crash: his hair-roughened legs beneath her, his hands on her hips, the mouthwatering scent of his shampoo. And those eyes, those insanely beautiful eyes, soft with concern yet intent as he studied her face. “You okay?” he asked.

“I seem to be. How about you?” She eased off his lap to sit beside him on the mattress. The burning of her tattoos was starting to subside.

“I'm okay. What happened?”

She shook her head. “One minute I was dreaming, and the next the stone had linked with me. Swallowed me.” She swept a hand over her hair. “I've never known a stone to be able to do that unless I was either holding it or in close proximity.”

“As far as I know, the thing is still locked up tight,” Darius said.

“Well, it has a far reach, like a black muck smothering me. But I don't think it meant to hurt me.”

“I don't know about its intentions, but I've never encountered anything like that before.”

“Strange that we were trapped together. I don't think that's ever happened to me before.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Why you?”

“Beats me. That was some trip. I swear I have more gray hair now.”

“What gray hair?” she scoffed. “You're not even thirty yet, are you?”

“Thirty-one in June.”

“Methuselah.”

“And don't you forget it.” He stroked the back of his hand along her cheek. “You going to tell me how this happened? Because if you don't, I'll make up my own version, and that will be far worse.”

She grabbed his hand, but rather than shoving it away, she just held it. “The stone is lonely. It's been eons since the last Stone Singer balanced it, and it's absorbed countless emotions from countless humans over countless centuries. Think of it as your crazy great-uncle who recites bad poetry when he's had too much to drink.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. Ever since the first contact yesterday it's been whispering to me, trying to get my attention.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I have stones whispering to me all the time. It's a white noise that I can ignore if I need to.”

“Guess this one didn't like being ignored.”

“No, it really didn't. It's going to take a lot of work to make it healthy again.”

Darius frowned. “I don't want you taking any risks. As important as this thing is, it's not worth your safety.”

“I'll be fine.” She smiled. “As long as you keep doing your lighthouse imitation whenever I get stuck.”

“What do you mean, lighthouse imitation?”

“Twice I've gotten lost in that stone, and twice you've led me out. I see you as a glowing blue light in my mind, and that shows me the way.”

“I still don't like you taking these chances.” He lifted their clasped hands to his lips. Goose bumps prickled along her flesh, and she had to make herself focus on his words. “Promise me you'll be careful.”

“I'm being as careful as I can.” Her voice came out huskier than she'd intended, and she cleared her throat. “How'd you know I was in trouble?”

“You called me. I woke out of a sound sleep because I heard you whisper my name.”

“I'm glad you did, but you could have been trapped in there. I almost didn't get you free in time.”

“But you did. Thank you.”

She rubbed her face. “Man, I'm tired. Why can't these things happen in daylight? Why always in the middle of the night?”

“Maybe because when you're asleep, it's easier for the stone to tap into your subconscious?”

“You may be right about that.” She yawned. “And now I'm beat.”

“You need to get some sleep.” He reached for his cane, which had fallen to the floor. “Do you want me to stay?”

Soft words in a quiet night should not have made her heart race, but they did. She'd only started to level out from the incident with the stone, and now her adrenaline streaked back to maximum again. He sat there on the bed next to her, white T-shirt stretched over that powerful upper body, long hair mussed from sleep, and watched her with calm eyes as he awaited her response.

Such patience. She wondered how patient he was in other areas.…

“Faith?”

“Sorry.” She managed a smile.

“Do you want me to stay? You know, in case it happens again?” He tapped his knee. “These old bones probably couldn't take another dash from the guesthouse.”

“I'm too big to be afraid of the dark.”

“The dark can't hurt you. It's what lives in the dark that you have to watch out for.” He gave her that charming grin that always made her pulse zing.

She should tell him to go.

“Or I can crash in the other guest room down the hall.”

“No.” The word escaped her lips before her brain could talk her out of the decision. “This sounds silly, but I really don't want to be alone right now.”

“Not silly at all.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“Hey, hey.” He put up his palms in surrender. “Just offering bodyguard services.”

“Uh-huh.” She let out a long sigh. “I would appreciate not being alone, but I'm not ready for more than that, no matter what happened earlier.”

“You mean the kiss.”

“Yes, I mean the kiss.”

“Understood. Which side of the bed do you want?”

“Huh?”

“My chivalry may be alive and well, Faith, but my body can't handle bunking on the floor. It's a king-size bed. We should be able to sleep without even touching, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Fine. Yes, okay.” She got to her feet. “I get the bathroom first.”

“Sure. Gentleman, remember?” He stood as well. “Now, the bed. Right or left? I'd prefer the side closest to the door.” He shrugged, that crooked grin curving his lips. “Not that the stone will grow legs and attack us.”

“At least not that we know of.” She waved a hand. “Whatever you want is fine. I need sleep.”

She wandered into the bathroom, wondering if she was making a huge mistake in letting him stay. Not that she worried about Darius pouncing on her. She trusted him to keep his word to not force anything.

It was herself she didn't trust.

*   *   *

Darius sat down on the bed and listened to the water running behind the closed bathroom door. He leaned his cane against the wall between the bed and the nightstand, then looked down at his trembling hands. For all the cool exterior he'd presented to Faith, his heart still pounded. Sweat still coated his skin. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing that wasteland of sludge and muck, centuries of human emotions broken down into pure, physical desolation.

At least that's what he thought it was. As soon as Faith had come into contact with the stone's energy, his empathic abilities had winked out. Atlantean powers were always rendered neutral around the Stones of Ekhia except, apparently, for a Stone Singer. It made sense. The Stone Singer needed to balance the stones, and she wouldn't be able to do that if her powers were cut off.

The only exceptions seemed to be any form of empathic ability, like his and his mother's, or the ability to amplify another's power, like Faith's late husband had had. Since other Atlanteans were used to their abilities not working on one another, it wasn't quite as disorienting for them when the stones rendered them temporarily powerless. But for him, whose powers always worked on everyone—he hated it.

He didn't know how to function in the world without his empathy.