Runes (10 page)

The stranger closed the door and flashed them both a sexy smile. Then he unzipped his jeans and unleashed one of the longest shafts Evangeline had ever seen. She heard Will’s sharp intake of breath at the sight. Her nipples bunched up tight, anticipating this most forbidden scene.

Capturing her mouth, the blond man slipped between the slick lips of her pussy while Will’s length slid inside her. And in the enveloping safety of Will’s immortal love, her horrific sexual memories, her fears, and a lifetime of distrust melted away, leaving her awash in love and sexual fulfillment.

* * * *

Late that night, with her feet securely on the ground and a sweet soreness reminding her of their mind-blowing three-way encounter at thirty-thousand feet above the earth, Evangeline let Will lead her up the dark sidewalk to the door of her father’s Chicago home. First, they’d made certain that her sister Jessa was not in. The small pistol tucked into the waistband of Will’s jeans weighed heavily on Evangeline’s mind.

He clutched her hand tight in his, but on reaching the darkened porch, he stopped and faced her. “Evangeline,” he murmured, moving his hands up her wrists to her elbows where he held her firmly.

She searched his eyes. “What is it? Have you changed your mind?”

“No. But you can’t be here when this goes down. I won’t risk you being hurt.”

“But I can’t die,” she cried softly, trembling at the thought of being parted from him. That old tremor had ceased the instant she stepped into his arms.

“You can die by my hand. The hand of another immortal. And I couldn’t live with myself if such an accident occurred. Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please, just heed me. Take the rental car and go back to the hotel. I’ll come when it’s finished.”

She threw her arms around him, clinging like a burr. “Please don’t send me away. I have to be with you now.” She saw how her plea affected him. All traces of his boyish good nature had fled, and his mouth set grimly. In the shadow, the bones of his face pressed starkly against his skin, making him appear frightening. And the reason they stood on the threshold of her father’s home was terrifying.

“Baby, I won’t allow it. Don’t make me force you.”

“How can you force me?” she asked, holding him tight.

“
Evangeline, take the car and leave me now.”

Too late she understood. When he spoke aloud and into her soul, it forced her to listen. They each held this power, a power she didn’t want.
Stripped of will, powerless against his command, she turned for the car. Her anger was hot and bright, metallic in her mouth. She set her jaw against the words bubbling up her throat. When it came down to it, she trusted Will and knew he was right.

* * * *

Driving alone through the familiar streets tormented Evangeline. Leaving Will to murder her father tortured her doubly, and the memory of walking the city with her hand clasped in Sean’s drove her over the edge. Hot sobs made her pull over or risk killing someone. She steered the compact to the curb, jammed it into park and dropped her face into her hands.

For long minutes she let her grief flow unchecked down her cheeks. Torn between the notion of storming back to stop Will, or going forward to seek her former lover, she sat and cried.

A knock at her window made her jerk, and she looked up with her heart in her throat. For the man outside her window possessed an unmistakable luminosity. The glow of an immortal. Heart pounding now, she fumbled with the window button.

“Is it Will?” she cried the instant she came face to face with him.

Adjusting his glasses, he thrust his face into the car. “It is. Hurry.”

Evangeline gave him her hand, and too late felt a needle stab deep in the crease of her arm. Her mind ebbed and her vision blurred. As she slumped in the seat, she felt the pressure of Will’s mind leave hers and then knew no more.

Sean stared from the tiny airplane window at the clouds and pinched the bridge of his nose against his burning tears. Somewhere in the world Evangeline was alone, frightened and possibly hurt. Needing him.

For days he’d walked the streets of Chicago and New York, searching the crowds for the woman he’d fallen in love with, if only to hear her tell him the truth of why she’d left—that she “wasn’t feeling it,” as Olivia had insisted, or that she’d found another man.

But the government agent at his side informed Sean that his help was necessary to keep her alive. They’d rushed through the airport, flashing passports and removing shoes, and all the while the man named Marcus yelled into a cell phone. His orders drained the blood from Sean’s heart, and his cry of, “Dammit. Not another of our men lost,” sent him into a frenzy. He’d stumbled out of his airplane seat and locked himself inside the restroom. He’d vomited into the miniature sink. Then splashed fetid water over his face with shaking hands. He looked into the mirror at his pale complexion. He had to save her. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him, he had to make her safe.

Once they landed, Sean hurled questions at Marcus, but he stoically ignored him. They boarded a private helicopter with Marcus as pilot, and only when they were in the air and soaring over the dense rainforests did Sean’s heart seize with fear. How would they ever locate her under that tangled green canopy of peril? As he stared at the treetops, he wondered if she could have survived the trip into the forest depths.

“Are we getting close? Do you know where she is?” he asked Marcus over the drone of the engine. Marcus kept his gaze fixed grimly on the horizon, but sunlight reflected in his dark sunglasses.

“I know where she is.”

"And you believe she’s alive?” Sean's throat closed on his words. An image of her beloved body, broken and discarded flashed through his mind. He lifted the cuff of his shirt and stared at the new tattoo snaking about the underside of his forearm up to his elbow. The runes had been replaced by intricate lettering, and the stars were edgier, more masculine. Still, he knew it belonged to her.

A love like ours never dies,
it read. He turned his gaze into the sun. Despair was a choking lump in his throat. Was it too much to hope she was alive? As he squinted into the sun, he fought his tears. To lose her once was bad enough. To lose her twice? Unbearable.

* * * *

The beat-up white pickup took the bends of the jungle’s dirt roads at breakneck speed. Sean, who’d never feared the deadly streets of Chicago, gripped the dash with white knuckles. “Where the fuck are we going? And where the fuck’s Evangeline?”

Marcus stared straight ahead as he’d done in the helicopter, and before that, on the plane. After an hour of driving into the cold altitudes of the Argentinean mountains, he down-shifted, slowed, and finally rolled into a dusty yard. Chickens scattered for safety, squawking and fluttering. The truck jerked to a stop in a cloud of dust.

Sean blinked through the grimy windshield at a mean little shack clinging to the cliff. Leaning precariously and patched with various bits of salvaged wood, it looked like more like a hovel from the backwoods of Louisiana than the quarters of a government official.

“What is this? You said we were going to find Evangeline,” he cried and then froze as Marcus jammed the barrel of an AR-15 into his chest.

His blue eyes burned behind his glasses, and sweat pooled on his forehead. “Time for your questioning to end, my boy. Meet Mr. Tactical Weapon. My time in the military wasn’t all for naught, you’ll be happy to know. Now slowly open the door of the truck and put your feet on the ground.”

Hatred blistered Sean’s veins. A trick. It had all been a trick, and now he’d die without ever looking into Evangeline’s eyes again. He obeyed hastily, planting his feet in the dirt and glaring at Marcus as he walked around the truck. A grin split Marcus’s face, and he lunged the final two steps, slamming the rifle across the bridge of Sean’s nose. Bone splintered with a sickening crunch, and blood filled his mouth and throat. He gagged and his knees buckled, but he managed to stay on his feet. With one hand, he clutched his nose, but the other he used to beckon his adversary closer.

“Let’s go, Bad Boy,” he growled thickly. “Bring it. I’m ready.”

Marcus stood nose to nose and laughed. His hot onion breath blasted across Sean’s face, and he resisted the urge to stagger backward.

Just then a choked cry came from the shack, and metal rattled.

Sean’s head jerked around, his captor and his broken nose forgotten. He took two halting steps, then burst into a run. Sprinting up the sagging steps and through the screen door, he dashed inside, blinking at the darkness and straining to hear.

Behind him, Marcus laughed maniacally. He pressed the gun’s cold metal barrel into the small of Sean’s back. “Now, march forward, young man, if you want to keep your woman alive.”

Through one dank space and into another, Marcus pushed him, his heart flipping at every sound. Marcus’s lace-up military boots scuffed the filthy floor boards. Beyond the broken window panes, chickens scratched and clucked. But from inside, a whimper propelled Sean forward.

He shoved through a rough wooden door and came up against a metal cage. He blinked down through the bars at a crown of dark hair, and its purple streak made his skin prickle with horror. He dropped to his knees with a cry.

“Oh God,” he choked. “Evangeline. What has he done?”

She looked into his eyes, and for a minute he understood that she didn’t register his presence. His blood ran cold and his bowels turned to water. How long had she been inside this cage? So cramped for space she had to sit cross-legged and head bowed?

“Evangeline,” he pleaded, and she jolted to life.

Sobbing, she fell against the bars of her prison, thrusting her wrists against them. Sean reached between the bars as far as his big hands would fit and captured her fragile face in his palms. His eyes swept her from head to foot, assessing her injuries.

Her torn blouse hung raggedly from one shoulder, exposing her tattoo. Her left eye was black and swollen shut, and blood ran from a corner of her mouth down her chin. But her raw, bloody hands made him wretch with anger, cringe with sympathy. She’d been trying to break free.

He twisted around to glare up at their captor, who stood watching their reunion with derision.

“You fucker,” he roared, earning a sharp kick to the ribs. He accepted it with a grunt and yelled. “Let her out. Let her out now.”

Marcus chuckled at his rage but sifted through his pocket and produced a key. Sean fell back in his haste to give him access to the lock. His heart slammed sickeningly in his throat. How the hell was he going to get them out of this situation alive? But first things first. Treat her injuries.

The key grated in the padlock, and the door opened with a clang. Evangeline fell into Sean’s arms. He gathered her carefully.

“Oh God, how pale you are. And thin.” He glared heatedly at Marcus. “Bring her food. Now.”

Marcus lifted his weapon and rapped Sean across the brow. Evangeline screamed, and hot blood rushed down Sean's face. Clutching her protectively with one arm, he demanded food again. Laughing, Marcus spun on his heel, stomped out and slammed the door behind him. Sean turned to Evangeline. Her trembling fingers lifted to his cut forehead. Her lower lip quivered and she began to cry.

A huff of emotion burst from him, as if he’d been punched in the gut. He locked her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. Her overwhelming scent loosed a surge of hot love through him.

He crushed his mouth to hers. She yielded to him, soft and sweet. Weakly, her arms slid about his neck and he angled his head, kissing her deeper. His tongue swept the hot interior of her mouth, and all at once, she grew still.

His mind whirled, wondering what he’d done to cause this sudden change.

With a cry, she struggled, writhing and twisting to get away from him. He released her gently, and she fell sobbing to the floor. “No, no, no,” she said, frantically clutching her head. “You can’t kiss me like that anymore.”

Horror crept over him, raising the hair on the back of his neck. “Why not?”

“I…I don’t belong to you, anymore, Sean. See?” She clawed at her breast, stretching the shirt to reveal a blood red tattoo. “It’s his. He marked me with his blood. We’re bound. Immortal. Oh God, Sean, why have you come?” she wailed, collapsing in a fresh round of sobs.

“Evangeline, stop. Please. Let me hold you. I won’t kiss you, I swear. Just let me touch you.”

She was shaking her head, pressing the bloody tip of a finger to her temple where the stars and runes lived. He yanked up his shirt sleeve and showed her his matching tattoo. He refused to let her dump him that easily

“Well, you’ve marked me,” he said. “I won’t accept that we’re finished because I think you’re in love with me. Please. Tell me that you are,” he begged, reaching for her.

She toppled backward, scooting to a corner of the dank room which Sean now noticed sported both the cage and a wooden cot with a soiled mattress.

Across the dim space their eyes met. She released a sob, and when he moved nearer to her, she lifted her hand up like a stop sign. “No, Sean, you can’t touch me. I can’t let you.”

“But baby, you’re hurt. Your hands. Let me at least help you.”

“They’re fine.”

“They’re festering.”

“I can’t die, Sean. Really. Now be quiet for a minute while I listen to Will,” she cried, clapping her hands over her ears and squeezing shut her uninjured eye. Her lips moved swiftly, as though she was speaking to someone, but he couldn’t make out the words. Finally, she released a ragged sigh and nodded. “Yes, okay,” she said and then dropped her head to her knees and shivered uncontrollably.

Seeing her like this was excruciating. He inched closer. When she didn’t raise her head or tell him to leave her alone, he continued forward until he sat next to her.

“Evangeline,” he said softly, ducking to see her face. If she would only let him see her eyes. His thigh brushed hers, and she shifted away. God, how to endure this? The woman of his heart sat next to him, hurt and terrified, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. Wouldn’t let her skin brush his. How could he survive being turned away a second time? He drew a deep breath to ask, but she spoke from the shelter of her knees.

“I’m killing you, I know,” she said thickly. “And it’s tearing me apart.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said quietly, staring at the sharp knobs of her spine. How many days had she gone without food?

She sniffed and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. He doesn’t want me to tell you. He wants me away from you. But Sean,” she wailed, lifting her ravaged face to him, “I don’t think I can do it.”

Sean got the sinking feeling she didn’t mean her kidnapper. To hell with
him
. He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her onto his lap, tucking her head securely beneath his chin.

“Don’t listen to him, baby. It’s you and me, it always has been. Since the moment I followed you to the bookstore months ago, our fate was sealed. I promise you I’ll get us out of here and we’ll start fresh. A new life. I’ll stop deejaying and we’ll find a new city, far from every bad memory—”

“No. We can’t, Sean. Please, don’t say more. It’s torturing me.” Her low, raspy cries broke him. His sanity deserted him, and if Marcus or any other male had entered at that instant, he would have torn him limb from limb.

“Who is he, Evangeline? I have to know.”

Her eyes lifted, and he caught the tears streaking unchecked down her face. He bent to kiss them away. The salt pooled between his lips, and he licked it hungrily. He gave an uncontrollable shudder of longing. His arms flexed, bringing her closer.

“Stop, Sean, please. I can’t think when you’re kissing me. He’s going berserk.”