Darkness Arisen

chapter Three



Even cradled in Ian's arms, the thud of hitting the sand was jarring. But worse for Alice was the realization that the landing had been hard because the water was shallow. The ocean had closed to her again. All that was beneath her was sand. Ordinary, shallow water. Broken shell fragments. Pebbles. Seaweed.

Dismay tore through Alice as she wrenched herself free from Ian. The pearl clenched in her hand, she scrambled to her feet and checked the sky. It was still blood red, and the turquoise moon was still full, but there were no more clouds. It was a crystal clear night with millions of stars, and no way to access the Mageaan.

"No, no, no," she whispered, frantically searching the sky. "It can't be over. It can't be." This night, the opportunity to enter the Mageaan kingdom by an outsider was a rare occurrence, one that came with little warning under the blood red sky.

"The woman was naked in your arms, and yet she's more interested in shooting stars than you," a deep male voice said, jerking her attention back to the present. "There's no way you can claim she's yours, Fitz."

Alice jerked her gaze off the night sky and looked around. Aside from Ian, who was still in the water behind her, two other warriors were standing on the edge of the beach, watching her intently. Both of them were tall and heavily muscled, but the one on the right looked like death himself. His eyes were a turbulent black, his face angular and furious, his fists clenched as if it was all he could do not to erupt into a murderous rage. Thick black brands slashed across his forearms in the shape of a machete, and she knew he was the one who'd helped them. He was also the one that she'd sensed so much evil in, the man Ian had called Ry.

The other one was less readable. His light brown hair was tousled, and his jaw was chiseled. He was almost as large as Ry, but there was a litheness in his stance that made her half-expect to see him turn into a wild cat and leap a hundred feet onto one of the massive black rocks rising out of the coastal waters. His eyes were dark, but there was a faint green tint around his pupils. A green tint that reminded her of Flynn Shapiro, her best friend and the last person to kill her.

"Alice," Ian rasped out, his voice raw with agony.

She turned quickly to see him on his hands and knees in the water. His head was bent, hanging toward the ground, and his muscles were flexed, as if he were in great pain. His hair was drenched flat against his head, showcasing the angular lines of his skull.

Her heart tightened, and she had to force herself not to run to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Of course." He suddenly lurched to his feet, staggering as if it had taken supreme effort to pull himself upright. He faced her and stripped off his tee shirt, still swaying as he fought a battle she couldn't see. With a muttered curse, he thrust the shirt toward her. "Put this on," he ordered her. "Now."

For a split second, she was too shocked by the sight of him to respond. In the water, she'd been fighting for her life, almost dead, desperate to breathe. She hadn't had time to notice him, to really see him, but now... Dear God...to call him a specimen wouldn't even begin to do him justice.

Stripped bare to the waist, the strength of his frame was undeniable. He was so chiseled it was as if a sculptor had carved every muscle in great detail. Unlike Ry and the other male, Ian wasn't a bulky mass of muscle. He was wiry and cut, making every curve of each muscle strain against his skin. His shoulders were broad, but he was so fit he seemed to be only bone and steel cords of muscle. A smattering of hair across his chest, and an eight-pack of abs across his stomach were untamed male perfection. Desire leapt through her, hot, throbbing need for the man walking toward her. She swallowed, her pulse pounding in her throat as she watched him approach, each step he took making her body clench in anticipation.

He reached her, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. All she could do was stare into the brown eyes that had haunted her all those days she'd been in demon hands. She'd been so confused, in so much pain, that her mind had barely been able to process what was going on. All she knew was that those intense eyes had provided comfort and strength, that they made her feel like she had hope. How often had she clung to that image in her mind, summoning it to survive one more day? She hadn't seen his face or heard his voice. She'd just seen his eyes.

She'd thought she'd imagined him. She'd thought he was a figment of her imagination, created as a self-preservation tool to survive. But here he stood before her, a thousand times more powerful than he'd been in her mind. "You're real." She couldn't keep the awe out of her voice, and she couldn't stop herself from brushing her finger over his jaw. His skin was rough from the whiskers, but it was the warm, living flesh of a real man standing before her.

"Yeah." He didn't flinch, a statue allowing her to touch him however she wanted. But raw emotion pulsed in his eyes. Desire. Lust. And a male possessiveness so unyielding that her belly clenched in response. "You really don't remember me?"

She laid her palm on his chest, and he sucked in his breath. He slammed his hand over hers, pinning it against him.

"Bits and pieces are coming back," she admitted, her heart starting to race at the way he was invading her space. Heat flamed on her cheeks as a memory of him pinning her up against a wall flashed in her mind. The coldness of the plaster wall against her shoulders and back, the dark lighting of the rear hall of Deliverance, the bar she used to work at, the pulsing heat of his lean hips between her bare thighs...

Sudden heat pulsed through her belly, and she swallowed, embarrassed by the images flashing through her mind. The hot dampness of his mouth on her breasts. The raw strength of his body as he'd driven into her again, and again. The ache in her soul as he'd stripped aside her defenses...

Oh...wow...she hoped that hadn't really happened. For so many reasons. On so many levels. She was always half-insane when she came back to life, and it was always hard to figure out what she'd imagined and what was real. The images of the passionate love-fest between her and Ian had to be her imagination. It had to be...but as she felt the thud of his heart beneath her palm, all she could think of was that she also wanted it to have been real. Crap! This was not good. Quickly, she cleared her throat and tried to pull her hand away.

He didn't let her. Instead, his fingers curled around hers, gripping her more tightly, making her pulse jump. "No," he said, his voice raw. "Don't withdraw. Not yet." A sudden chill rippled through Alice as droplets of water beaded down his temples. His pupils were dilated, and his skin was deadly cold. "Tell me you remember me," he whispered urgently. "Even if it's a lie."

Alice swallowed, her heart beginning to pound. Something was wrong with him. So terribly wrong. His skin was too cold. His eyes too tormented. What was wrong? She wanted to help him, even though she didn't understand why.

But she couldn't lie to him. She wasn't capable of it. Not even to help the man who had just saved her life. Not even if he was dying right in front of her. Oh, no. What if he was dying? Sudden terror coursed through her and she yanked her hand back, stumbling away from him. "Are you dying? Please, don't tell me you're dying." She couldn't go through that again. Not again. Not with someone who had just saved her life.

Ian fisted his hands and stared at her. His eyes were hooded with agony. "I'm not going to die," he said roughly, "but it would be incredibly helpful of you to at least pretend that my lovemaking was so earth-shattering that you haven't been able to think of anything else since."

"I have moments where I have flashes of it," she admitted, still backing away from him, needing to put distance between them. "But I'm not sure what really happened and what didn't."

"Moments? Flashes?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he were summoning intense inner strength to fight off a demon she couldn't see. "That's it? That's all you've got?"

His words were light, a quip, but Alice felt the depth of torment beneath the surface. Something was terribly wrong. Why did he need her to remember? Quickly, she tried to explain. "When I die, I lose many of my short-term memories, or they come back only as fragments. The fact I remembered you at all is something that shouldn't have happened—" She realized suddenly that she'd just revealed too much about herself. Oh, God. What was he doing to her? Making her break rules left and right? Suddenly scared of how dangerous he was to her, she tightened her grip on the pearl, comforted by the fact she still had it as her protection. "I mean—"

"I know you die and come back," Ian interrupted. "You don't need to hide it." He held his shirt toward her again and this time there was no mistaking the blazing heat in his eyes. "But I'm glad to know that our lovemaking was so significant that you recall it at least on some level, even though you shouldn't have been able to. Clearly, I really did blow your mind." And just like that, his torment seemed to disappear, swallowed up by the sheer force of his will, shoved back into whatever dungeon he kept it in, as if the mere acknowledgment that he had affected her had given him some sense of peace. "Put this on, Alice."

She stared at his tee shirt, still dripping with ocean water. "What? Why?" She didn't understand this man. Not her response to him, not his response to her, and now? His shirt? "Are you trying to claim me like some teenage couple? Wear my letter jacket and we'll be going steady?"

He cocked his eyebrow. "No, but if that would work, I'd go back to high school and join the football team. It'd be easier than dealing with you cutting me off all the time."

She blinked at his haunted tone. Was he really affected by her trying to put space between them? "Then why do you want me to wear your shirt?"

"Because," he said, his voice low with desire so intense that it vibrated through her, "as absolutely breathtaking as your naked body is, and as much as I want to haul you into my arms and run my hands over every inch of it, the fact that there are two other men watching you is not something that I'm going to handle well in about thirty seconds."

Alice's stomach dropped at his possessiveness, and fear pulsed more strongly through her. Fear not just of the way he was behaving, but also of the fact that a part of her seemed to preen and bask at his claim on her. Using any excuse to break from his stare, she glanced over his shoulder at the other men, the ones she'd forgotten about completely the moment she'd seen Ian rise out of the water like the god of the sea himself.

Both Ry and the other man were still watching her. They didn't seem to be checking out her body. They were watching her face, and their feet were braced in a battle stance. Warriors who were waiting for something to happen, who were primed to leap into action. What were they expecting? What did they all know that she didn't?

Ry nodded once, his eyes turbulent with evil and darkness. "He's right, my lady," he said, his voice far more deferential than she would ever have expected from a man who carried such a dark presence. "You being naked is going to be a major problem very quickly. Ian's a little unstable these days, I'm no ball of sunshine, and we don't have time to get in a brawl."

She glanced back at Ian, and was startled to see that he wasn't denying Ry's comment. "He's right, Alice. I'm a f*cking mess these days. Humor me." Violence began to swirl around her, and it was coming right from Ian. "Now, Alice," he said. "Just do it."

His eyes had darkened to a possessive dark brown that made chills run down her spine. She couldn't belong to him. That would destroy everything. "No," she protested, taking another step back, trying desperately to take back her space. "I have my own clothes. I'll put those on." She turned to head toward the beach, but Ian caught her arm, stepping in front of her so he blocked both her own path and the view of the other men.

"I know where your clothes are," he said, his voice low and rough, as if he were fighting to contain himself. "I saw them when I got here. If you go get them, you will be walking right toward Ry and Vaughn with every inch of your unbelievable body exposed." His grip tightened on her arm and he bent his head so his breath was warm against the side of her neck, sending shivers shooting down her spine. "Don't do that," he whispered. "It's not a good idea. I won't respond well to that trigger. I'm not having the best day, and I need a little bit of help on this one, sweetheart."

She stared at him, her instincts screaming at her to pull away, to declare her independence, to make sure the world understood she didn't belong to him. But when she looked into his eyes and saw the depth of pain in his expression, her protest died in her throat. She'd heard enough about the intensity of Calydon males, and the Order of the Blade warriors were more intense than others. She had no idea why she was apparently a catalyst for Ian, but she didn't have time to deal with the repercussions. She had one mission, and it wasn't to break up a fight among men, or to be naked in front of Ian Fitzgerald any longer. "I'm not your woman," she said, as softly as he had, words just for him. "But I don't have time for some territorial battle between oversexed males. Hand me the damned shirt."

A slow grin spread across his features as he realized she wasn't going to resist any longer. "Female nudity has that effect on me. I appreciate the accommodation."

In a teasing manner completely uncharacteristic of her, Alice raised her brows as she took the wet shirt from him. "All naked women?"

His face darkened and he moved closer, until his bare chest was less than a breath from her breasts, forcing her to crane her neck to see his face. "No, Alice," he said. "Just you."

"Oh." The word came out in a breathless whisper, and she felt a disconcerting sense of satisfaction pulse through her. Why did she care whether Ian noticed other naked women? She didn't even know the man. And the lovemaking incident that was floating in her mind, in and out of focus? It had to be a fantasy created because he was so hot. Seriously. She couldn't really have done that, right? Wanton sex with a stranger in a back hall at a bar was so not her style. Ever. "Get away from me." Careful not to drop the pearl, she yanked the sodden fabric out of his hand and jerked it over her head, not as an accommodation to him, but because she knew all too well the damage that these males could cause. If someone died because of her today, she would be helpless to save them, and that was not a memory she wanted to dredge up from her past.

The wet cotton was heavy against her skin, and the shirt came all the way to her mid-thigh. Ian nodded with evident satisfaction. "My shirt belongs on you."

"No, it doesn't." She set her fists on her hips, trying not to notice the scent of cinnamon and male emanating from the shirt that was clinging to her body. "It's a covering, Ian. Nothing else."

He moved quickly then, so quickly that she jumped in nervousness. He grabbed her wrist and flipped her arm over so her forearm was exposed. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "How is it possible there's nothing there? How are you able to resist me?"

Alice pulled her arm away, needing her space. "What are you talking about?" Something nagged at the back of her mind, as if she knew what he meant, but couldn’t quite remember.

"You're my sheva."

She frowned at him. "Sheva? What's that?"

"It means soul mate."

She blinked, and then shook her head frantically. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm not your soul mate—"

"Stop arguing with me for one damn minute." Ian scowled and took a deep breath, as if he were trying to summon intense inner control. "Since you're my soul mate, as we complete the stages of the sheva bond, my brand will begin to appear on your arm. There are five stages, and each one makes the brand more complete. The stages are sex, which we did."

She cleared her throat. "Well, I don't know about that—"

"And trust, where each of us trusts the other with our darkest secret or give the other the power to kill us. There's also death, where we risk our lives to save the other. Transference occurs when you develop the ability to call my weapon. Blood-bonding is another stage which brings us together. They can be done in any order, but with the completion of final stage, our bond and our fates are sealed."

She blinked. "Our bond and our fates are sealed? What does that mean?" Even as she asked it, chills ran down her spine. It sounded too ominous and relentless, things that weren't her cup of tea even on a good day.

"The Calydon destiny is to bond with his mate," Ian explained, tracing the shape of his brand on her arm with his fingers, as if he could manifest it by sheer will. She started to pull away, and then stopped at the flash of tension on his face. "The moment the Calydon completes the bond, he will become so consumed by his woman that her breath becomes the only thing that fills his soul. He's then destined to lose her, and the moment he does, he will snap and go rogue."

Alice instinctively looked over at Ry, who was treading close to rogue already. She'd heard about rogue Calydons, and the swath of destruction they always left behind. "Ian, I don't believe—"

He caught her arm, his eyes blazing with intensity "He will destroy everyone and everything that matters to them. They will both lose that which they hold most dear. The only one who will be able to stop him is his soul mate, who will kill him. Once he dies, she will be so devastated by the loss, that she will kill herself. Everyone dies. No one wins."

Alice stared at him, at the absolute conviction in his face. "That can't be true—"

"It is. Lucky you. Lucky me. Love kills and all that fun jazz. I'm not one of the stable few who will be able to will himself to victory and stave off destiny, so I'll be going down for sure." His voice softened, and his grip on her arm softened to a caress as he rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "But the ride...the ride is incredible. Love. Passion. The knowledge that you have a partner who will defend you to the death, at all costs, no matter what. It's addicting. Intoxicating. Irresistible." He leaned forward, his mouth a mere breath from hers, tempting her like the devil himself. "Worth every minute, from what I hear."

Her heart began to pound, and it felt like heat was rising from her skin. "Like how you make me feel when you kiss me?"

He grinned at her admission that she was affected by his kisses. "Yeah, exactly like that, only a thousand times more."

"More?" she echoed faintly. She wasn't sure she'd survive more.

"Hell, yeah." His jaw hardened as he resumed tracing the shape of his mace over her forearm. "You don't carry my brand." He tapped her arm. "There's nothing there, Alice. Not a damn thing."

"Of course there isn't," she said, her voice more throaty than she liked. She knew she should be terrified of his little story, but there was something about the way he'd spoken about the soul mates that called to her. The intimacy. The connection. The knowledge that there was someone there for her, always, no matter what. "I'm not your soul mate." She managed a weak laugh. "My soul is already busy with other stuff, you know? No split loyalties. It's against the rules. I'm like a nun."

He snorted. "No nun makes love like you do." He met her gaze. "You are my sheva. We satisfied one of the bonding stages when we made love, so you should be marked."

Alice swallowed, her skin suddenly hot. She wasn't sure which to respond to first, his statement that they really had made love, or his continued claim that she was his mate. He’d already ignored her repeated assertion that she wasn't his, and as for the making love…she really didn't want to get into that debate. Instead, she simply raised her arm, showing him the unmarked skin. "No brand. Not yours." End of story. Please? Yeah, the whole intimacy of the bond was appealing, but the doomed fate? Not so much. She had enough on her plate, thanks so much.

"You are mine—"

"You still haven't marked her." Ry strode toward them, his eyes as turbulent as they'd been before. Alice instinctively stepped behind Ian, using him as a buffer to protect her from Ry. The warrior's eyes flashed with darkness as he recognized her retreat. "Trust me, Alice, if you are what I think you are, I'm the one you can count on, not the one who will kill you."

She stiffened. "What do you think I am?" She really hoped it wasn't the angel thing again.

"An angel," Ian was the one who answered. "Ry thinks you're an angel. That's why he's here. Are you?"

Ohhh…this wasn't good. It hadn't been a coincidental term of endearment when he'd called her an angel before. They actually meant it.

Alice looked back and forth between the two men, her heart starting to pound. The cost of exposing her identity was so great. Angels of life weren't allowed to connect with anyone. One job. One loyalty. That was it. She couldn't risk revealing angel secrets to them, but the idea that they already knew made her worried. How did they know? As much as she wanted to find out who they were, why they'd come after her, and why Ian had appeared right at the moment when she'd almost died, she couldn't afford to have them around. She needed to get rid of them, and fast. "I need to go—"

"What? You're not walking out on me." Ian clasped her arm. "I've been searching for you for two months."

Another chill rippled over her. Why had he been searching for her? That couldn't be good. But she didn't have time to engage. Not now. Who knew how long she had until death succeeded in claiming her? Minutes? Hours? Days? She couldn't afford to take the time to interrogate the warriors. "I have to get dressed." She glanced up again at the sky. Still a dark red sky and a turquoise moon, but a clear sky. Desolation flooded her. What would she do if she couldn't get the help of the Mageaan? Seeking their help had been a risky choice, for sure, but without their assistance…how would she find Catherine?

She pulled out of Ian's grasp and hurried toward her stash of clothes on the beach. The third warrior hadn't moved. He was still standing there silently, watching her, and she noticed that he didn't have brands on his forearms. So, not a Calydon. Then what was he? What kind of male would the elite Order of the Blade allow on a mission with them? Her skin prickled as she bent to pick up her clothes, then she froze when he crouched beside her, his shoulder against hers.

"Where is Flynn?" he asked without preamble.

She stared at him, her heart starting to pound at the mention of the man who had betrayed her. The man who had once been her best friend, her only friend, who had killed her two months ago. "I don't know." She looked quickly down the beach, suddenly nervous that Flynn had found her again, but she saw only empty sand.

"I tracked him here." The man leaned closer toward her, his gaze intense. The green glow in his eyes was getting stronger, and she felt the air temperature begin to rise. Was he making it change? What was he? "You have Flynn's blood in your system," he said. "You and he are connected. So, where is he?"

"His blood is in my body?" Fear congealed in her belly. "What are you talking about?"

"Vaughn." Ian's mace was suddenly at the man's throat. "You need to back off. You're giving off a bad vibe right now."

For the second time in five minutes, Alice felt relief as Ian stepped between her and another man. Why was she feeling so many threats right now, and how come Ian seemed to be able to give her peace? It didn't make sense. It shouldn't be able to happen. She shouldn't be able to get peace from anyone. It was forbidden and impossible, at least for her. She was a special angel. For her, there were more rules, more limitations, and so much further to fall.

But there was no mistaking that she felt safer with Ian between her and the other men. Dammit. She had no idea what was going on, and she hated feeling out of control.

Vaughn didn't move away. If anything, he leaned closer to her, ignoring the trickle of blood running down his neck from Ian's mace. "Where is Flynn?" he asked again.

"I don't know," she shot back. "Why would I know?"

"Because he claimed you."

Ian growled, and nausea churned through Alice. "Another man claimed me?" The pressure was mounting from all sides, from all these men, Alice grabbed her underwear and yanked them on, keeping her body hidden beneath the long shirt as she did so. "Flynn hasn't claimed me. He was my best friend until he killed me. I hope to God he doesn't find me again—"

"He will." Vaughn stood up, giving her space as he surveyed their surroundings. "He'll always be able to find you since you carry his blood, just like I tracked you here, thinking it was him." His gaze fixated on the horizon. "He'll be back for you, and I'll be waiting."

Alice stared after him as he walked away, striding slowly across the beach as he scanned the area. Chills ran down her spine, and she swallowed. "That's how you found me?" She looked up at Ian, who had sheathed his mace back into the brand on his arm once Vaughn had left. "He tracked me?"

"Yeah." Ian picked up her shirt from the sand and shook it off. "I owe him. I wasn't getting anywhere on my own, but I gotta say, it makes me a little cranky to think of another man's blood in your system. I'm not good with shit like that."

"I've noticed." Alice grabbed her tank top, flinching when her fingers brushed against Ian's, shocking her. "Why are you hunting me?" She checked the sky again, but no clouds.

"Hunting you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is that what it feels like to you? You think I'm a threat?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Flustered by his intensity and her response to it, Alice turned away and tugged his shirt over her head. She tossed it over her shoulder at him without turning around, then pulled her tank top on. The navy blue material was soft and dry against her, and the built-in bra made her feel safer and more protected. She quickly donned her shorts, then carefully zipped the pearl into the front pocket, making sure it was secure. Then she shoved her feet into the flip flops. She grabbed her car keys, clenching them in her fist as she turned back to him. "Listen, Ian, I don't know you at all and—"

"Stop it!" Ian grabbed her upper arms, yanking her against him so her breasts were against his chest. "You're killing me, Alice. I need you to remember me. I need it."

The instant her nipples brushed against him, hot desire flooded her. Not just desire. Need. Yearning. A sensual lust that crawled like hot lava over her skin. It shouldn’t be happening. No man could break through her singular connection to the angelic realm and make her respond to him…and yet there was no way to deny her response. Real fear rippled through her at the realization of how easily this man could destroy everything that mattered to her, including the life of the only person on this earth that she loved.

"Alice. Stop resisting me. It won't work. There's no out."

She stared at him, seeing his commitment to claiming her. He would never let her go, not until he'd destroyed everything. No way. No chance. It didn't matter how fantastic it felt to be kissed by him, to feel responses so human and amazing. It wasn't worth it. She couldn't risk it.

Ian's eyes narrowed in warning, as if he sensed she was about to make a break for it. "Alice—"

"Leave me alone!" She tore herself out of Ian's grasp and sprinted for the ocean, for the water that was her only chance to find Catherine, away from the man who could destroy everything that mattered to her.

Everything.