Binding Ties (14 page)

T
here was no more time for Lyka to worry about what she wanted. If she didn't act fast, Joseph was as good as dead. It didn't matter that she was freaked-out to have been inside his head, or that he might have seen things in hers that he shouldn't have. All that could matter now was the life of a man balanced in her untrained hands.

She scrambled to his side and fastened his hand around her throat. The second the two parts of the luceria locked together again, she knew he wasn't dead. At least not yet. She could feel life in him, power.

She didn't stop to think or worry. Instead she dove headfirst for his power, not caring what he might see in her mind.

There it was, right where she'd left it—a pool of energy and light so huge, she knew she'd never be able to absorb it all.

Tendrils of it rose to her call, threading their way through the link the luceria provided. The instant it hit her, she recognized it, like something she'd lost long ago that had finally come home.

She grabbed onto that power with everything in her and willed it into action. Instincts guided her way, helping her find the worst source of Joseph's bleeding. She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, but the energy seemed to have a mind of its own.

It wanted Joseph to live.

So did she. In fact, she wanted it so much that she was holding her breath, pouring as much of herself into the act of healing him that she could.

The process quickly robbed her of her strength. Channeling so much power strained her mind and body in a way she never could have predicted, much less trained for. No drills or strength training could have prepared her for the monumental task of controlling and directing the kind of elemental force Joseph housed.

It was like trying to shove the sun into a five-pound sack. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't control the power at her fingertips. It was burning her up from the inside out.

All she could do was let go and watch as it consumed her.

She heard deep male voices. One of them was inside her head, and still she couldn't understand it. The roar of magic in her ears was too loud.

Someone pried at her hands. She clung to Joseph, refusing to let go. A second later, she was lifted bodily and hurled through the air. When she finally hit the ground, she had a deep sense of loneliness. Emptiness.

All of her power was gone now. Someone had sto- len it.

She tried to open her eyes to see who, but her eyelids were too heavy. She tried to sit up so she could regain her sense of equilibrium, but her head was spinning too fast for her to do more than flop on the ground.

Finally, a heavy wave of exhaustion sucked her under and didn't let go. She couldn't fight it. Even breathing was too hard. All she could do was relax and hope that wherever this current took her, it was someplace safe.

R
onan had no patience to deal with a newly bonded pair of Theronai. His hunger was raging. He was worried about the woman who'd saved his life—a woman who'd run from him. One he was determined to find.

He'd had no time to hunt tonight upon waking. He'd used all the power the unknown stranger had given him to find her, only to come up empty-handed. His plan was to search again tonight, but the call for help had come through, thwarting his plans.

The sun had only just set, and he'd been confined to his van, unable to do more than suffer through the acute weakness daylight brought upon him. It was his bad luck to be the closest Sanguinar near Joseph when all he wanted to do was hit the road, following the faint trail of a woman who'd seemingly vanished.

If not for the blood that she'd fed him, he wouldn't have even had that hint of a trail to follow. But he did have it, and he would find her before it faded to nothingness.

He had to find her. There was no other choice. She compelled him like no other creature ever had.

He needed her.

In an effort to have this task of healing Joseph out of the way as soon as possible, Ronan raced through the trees toward the Slayer settlement. Their kind liked to be isolated and difficult to reach, which was often handy—when it wasn't completely inconvenient.

Like it was right now.

Branches slashed at his face as he hurried through the forest. There was only the slightest path left visible in the foliage—no more than a natural trail that wildlife might leave behind. But even without that trail, Ronan would have been able to find Joseph. The scent of his blood was heavy in the air, telling Ronan that the man was gravely injured.

As he came over the top of a rise, he saw Lyka and Joseph down below. Sparks arced between their bodies as she clumsily tried to heal him.

Ronan suffered a moment of surprise. Nicholas had said that Lyka had bonded to the leader of the Theronai, but Ronan wouldn't have believed it possible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

Somehow, she was both Slayer and Theronai—something that definitely bore deeper investigation.

Too bad it wasn't she who needed healing, or Ronan could have used that excuse to delve into her mind and determine exactly how it was possible that she would straddle two races so seamlessly.

By the time he was at the bottom of the hill, Lyka had visibly weakened. He could smell the destruction of her body on a cellular level as she channeled Joseph's power. He was in even worse shape—unconscious, his heart stuttering against the loss of blood.

If Ronan didn't do something now, not only would
Joseph die, but there was also a chance he'd take Lyka with him.

“Stop!” he yelled at her as he made his way to her side.

She didn't seem to hear him—didn't so much as turn his way. Her eyes were closed. Sweat trickled down her temples. Her skin had gone so pale that he swore he could see through it, when the sparks between her and Joseph lit beneath her fingers.

He knew there was a chance he could injure her if he pulled her away from her task, but injury was far preferable to death. And that was exactly where she was headed.

Clearly, healing was not this woman's gift.

“You need to stop.” Ronan put his hand on hers, shaking her.

She tightened her grip on Joseph, digging her fingernails into his skin. He tried to pry her fingers away, but she was far stronger than a female Theronai had any right to be—a gift from her Slayer side, no doubt.

As her body continued to suffer the ill effects of her effort, Ronan was left with no other choice. He had to separate them.

He commanded his body to strengthen so he had the leverage to tear the couple apart. It took a monumental effort, but he was finally able to use brute force to get her to let go.

She flew through the air, landing a few feet away. Ronan hoped he hadn't hurt her, but he would deal with that damage in a moment. Right now he had to concentrate on Joseph, who was mere seconds from death.

Ronan dove into his work, repairing the blood vessels and tissue the sword had severed. He slowly removed the metal blade, easing it out of the man's flesh as fast as he dared.

There was no time for him to linger in Joseph's mind and examine his thoughts, but there were some things that came through loud and clear all the same.

Joseph was burdened by his position. There were so many needs his people had—so much suffering. He took all of that into himself, putting the weight of everyone's problems on his broad shoulders. He worked endless hours, exerting himself to the point of exhaustion. The signs of it were written all through his body, all the way down to his very cells.

No wonder Lyka hadn't been able to undo the damage done to him; it was too extensive, far more than a mere battle wound.

Still, despite Joseph's fatigue, there was a growing sense of hope in him. He'd found Lyka. She'd given him something precious—something he was determined never to let go.

Ronan finished his work, restoring as much of Joseph's strength as he dared. Every bit of energy Ronan exerted was that much less he had to spend on finding his savior—and he had to find her. Joseph had lost too much blood to be of any use in helping to restore Ronan's power, which meant he would have to find the energy he needed elsewhere.

He pulled out of Joseph's unconscious body and turned his sights on Lyka.

She was young. Strong. She could feed him and give him what he needed to carry on.

With exquisite care, Ronan lifted her from the ground and carried her back to Joseph's side. The smell of blood was thick here, making his hunger rise.

He held her in his arms, shifting her weight so that her neck was exposed to him.

She groaned and opened her eyes. “Ronan?”

He stilled in the act of lowering his mouth to her throat. Light from his eyes spilled over her face, making her eyes glow like golden flames. “Yes.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Is Joseph okay?”

“He will be. I arrived just in time.”

She let out a long breath of relief. “I tried to help, but it didn't work.”

“You kept him alive long enough for me to reach him. Without you, he would have died.”

She became more alert by the second, shaking off the ill effects of her efforts to heal Joseph. She glanced over at him, saw he was sleeping, then looked back at Ronan as if realizing for the first time that she was in his arms. “You don't look so good.”

“I need to feed,” he said, hoping she understood that it wasn't a request.

“On me.”

“There is no one else. Joseph is too weak.”

She nodded, but he could smell the sickly sweet stench of fear coming from her pores. “I've never let this happen before.”

“It won't hurt,” he reassured her. “Just close your eyes and it will be over in a moment.”

She did as he asked and Ronan took what he so desperately needed from her.

Her blood was hot, like all of the Slayers', but it had the thrumming power of a Theronai. Within seconds, he felt his body began to revive and his hunger subside. Feeding from her—being the first to do so—was a special kind of high. There was so much untapped power within her. Even as weak as she was from her ordeal, she still had more life in her than any he'd ever tasted before.

Except for the woman who'd saved his life. Drinking
from her was like consuming pure energy—sweet and intoxicating.

Before memories of that day could torment him, he pushed them aside and put his focus on Lyka.

Her mind was a jumble of emotions and fears. She'd been hiding her identity for so long, the worry of being found out had left a scar in her emotions as deep as a trench. Now that worry of hiding her Theronai side had turned to worry that her Slayer kin would shun her once news of what she was came out.

She felt like she belonged nowhere.

Ronan did what he could to ease her concerns. His people needed as many whole, healthy Theronai partnerships as they could get. Now that their men were no longer sterile, the hope of children loomed bright on the horizon. Those children were the best hope the Sanguinar had for survival. If Lyka was worried about not fitting in, she wasn't going to be as inclined to bring a child into the world.

That was something Ronan could not allow.

He was careful in his tinkering. Too much force would cause her psyche to crack. Not enough would leave her feeling like an outcast, floating between worlds but never living in either one. In the end, all he did was plant a seed of curiosity in her, giving her a desire to know more about Joseph.

Ronan had known the man for centuries. He'd been in his head often enough to know the kind of man he was. Ronan had no doubt that if she came to know Joseph, she would grow to love him. He was noble, kind and brave. He was strong, honest and steadfast. He would never leave her. He would protect her and their future children until the end of his days.

Once she knew in her heart that all of that was true—
once her love for him developed—she would open herself up to him in a way that would naturally lead to children.

Before Ronan finished feeding, he did a quick check over her body to make sure that she was whole and well. She'd taken a few scrapes and bruises, but they'd already begun to heal. Rather than waste his energy on regenerating her flesh, he would let nature take its course.

He lifted his head, willing the puncture wounds he'd left behind to close. When he was done, there was no hint that he'd fed from her—nothing for Joseph to worry about when he woke.

She opened her eyes, alertness returning swiftly. “That's it?”

“Yes.”

“You're right. I didn't feel a thing. And you look a hell of a lot better.”

“I'm using some of my power to dampen the scent of blood, but we need to move Joseph to a safer location so he can finish recovering.”

“How long will that take?”

“You're worried about finding your brother, aren't you?” He'd sensed that worry while in her mind, but he'd learned long ago that questions would get him in far less trouble than statements.

She nodded. “Can you sense which way they went? No one else seems to be able to find a trail.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. There were hundreds of scents here—many of them of blood of the dead. “I can smell your brother, but his scent has been obscured by magic.”

“Like what you're doing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a way to get around it? Undo the magic?”

“Perhaps, but I have other matters that demand my attention.”

“More important than finding my brother and a bunch of missing kids?”

Ronan's mystery woman was still out there. For all he knew, she was in danger. He didn't know why he was so compelled to find her, but he was. And it was more than just the fact that her blood had been so exquisitely powerful. “Someone I care about is also missing.”

“Who?”

“No one you know.”

“Maybe we can team up. You help me find Eric. I help you find her.”

Having a connection to Lyka could easily prove useful in the future. Not only was she powerful in her own right, but she was also tied to the leader of the Theronai. With all the tension between their races over Connal's treachery, it might be important to have an ally like her.

But how long would it slow him down? How much time would he be drawn away from the trail of his savior? Even one more minute was too long. He could feel her slipping farther away with every passing second.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I want to help you, but I can't. This woman's life is of as much importance to me as Eric's is to you. The best thing you can do is learn to wield Joseph's power. Once you do that, you won't need help from anyone.”

“I've tried, but it doesn't seem to work very well.”

“That's because you're not doing it right.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Trust, love, familiarity, intimacy—those are the things that strengthen the connection between the two of you and let the power flow.”

She lifted her golden blond eyebrows. “You want me to fuck him?”

“That's none of my concern,” he lied.

“You're no better than Joseph. Don't you guys know that we Slayers can smell a lie from a mile away?”

“Not all of you can.”

“How do you know?”

“I've known your kind for more years than you've been alive. Several times over. Some of you have the gift to sense a lie, but others don't. You, my dear, are stronger than many of your ancestors.”

“You're evading. Tell me why it's so important to you that I have sex with Joseph that you'd lie about it.”

“Procreation, of course. The more blooded children that are born into this world, the fewer of my kind that will die of starvation.”

Her stare went distant, but he could see a trail of thoughts streaming through her mind. The moment her mind touched on the idea of having a child, Ronan could smell her maternal instincts flare. It was completely involuntary, but strong enough to be unmistakable. “I barely know Joseph.”

“You're the one who wanted to know how to tap into his power. I was only trying to help.”

“I'm forbidden from procreating with anyone not approved by Andreas and his council.”

“I'd heard. I assume that's how the bloodlines are being rebuilt.”

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Keep your secrets, Lyka. I have no need of them. I have enough of my own to carry.”

She held up her hand. “Don't even go there. I've had enough secrets to last a lifetime. All I need to know is a
shortcut for getting what I want. I need to be strong enough to find Eric.”

“Then stop holding Joseph at arm's length. Extend some trust. Talk to him. Listen. Create a bond with the man with whom you'll likely spend the rest of your life.”