Darkness Arisen (3 page)

This time she's mine,
Ian growled as he called back the mace that was free-falling into the chasm. It slammed into his hand just as he reached Alice. He smashed it into the wall, anchoring himself, then grabbed Alice, wrapping his arm around her waist just as his other mace was torn out from under her. She threw herself around him, her lean limbs wrapping around his neck and waist, her face buried against his chest. Her naked body plastered against him.

Jesus
. For a split second, he couldn't move. He was overwhelmed by the shock of feeling her body against his. The heat from her body penetrated his clothes, and her skin was soft and vulnerable beneath his arm. The strength of her hold on him was riveting. It felt so right the way she was holding onto him. This was it. This was what he'd been pursuing for so long. Alice. In his arms—

She slipped slightly in his grasp, the movement jerking him back to the present and the force of the current still pulling on her. Shit. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a warrior, and this was battle, not time for a little nookie.

Ian immediately called back his still-falling mace. He sheathed it into his arm, beneath the brand that matched it. One arm was still locked around Alice, and his other hand was gripping the handle of the mace he'd jammed so deeply into the wall of the cliff, anchoring them against the forces trying to pull Alice downward.

He quickly took stock of his surroundings, assessing his best exit. With one arm wrapped around Alice, he could use only one weapon to get them out. The pull on her was extreme, and he could feel it working on him as well. Above him loomed a hundred-foot cliff that he'd have to climb before he'd reach the top of the chasm, let alone get back to the surface.

Shit. These were not optimal circumstances, even for him.

His Order of the Blade training would demand he choose his own life over hers if the choice had to be made, in order to fulfill his oath to trade the life of an innocent when necessary to save the greater good. The Order deemed all its members as critical for the protection of the greater good, so everything had to be sacrificed to keep the individual Order members alive. He was honor-bound to save himself instead of her, but the male within him disagreed big time. No chance would he let his woman die while he swam for freedom like some pansy-assed wuss who couldn't take care of his mate.

He had to make a move, and fast. His lungs were tight from holding his breath for so long, but he knew he still had time before he needed to surface. But Alice? He suddenly realized he didn't know what kind of powers she had. How bound was she by ordinary human-type limitations?
Alice. Do you need to breathe?

She didn't lift her head, and he realized she hadn't heard him.

Shit. She'd shut him out. Once they got out of this mess, he was going to have to make it clear that jamming their mental connection was not a good plan when they were fighting for their lives. And how in the hell was his soul mate capable of shutting him out anyway? It shouldn't even be possible, and that realization made a shimmer of foreboding echo through him. What if he couldn't claim her? What if she was within his reach, but never ever his?

The idea made pulses of fear ripple violently, and the curse reverberated through him. Shit. Maybe he would have been better off not finding her...

Too late now.

He had her, and he was keeping her alive.
Alice.
Keeping his grip tight on both her and the mace lodged in the wall, he shrugged his shoulder, trying to communicate with her. At his nudge, she looked up. Her eyes were wide with terror.

He met her gaze, drilling into her mind.
Do you need to breathe?

Her eyes widened, and he knew she'd heard him in her mind. Satisfaction and relief coursed through him. Yeah, that was the way it was supposed to be.

She nodded desperately.

I can breathe for you.
Her gaze went to his mouth, and sudden heat radiated through him as he recalled exactly what her mouth tasted like. The sinful softness of her lips. The passion that simmered inside her, buried so deeply that he knew it wasn't ever supposed to come out...but he'd accessed it anyway.

Raw, intense physical need burned through him, and desire pulsed at him. She swallowed, nervousness flickering across her face, and he laughed softly.
Sweetheart, trust me, I want to ravish you, but first I want to get out of this damn sinkhole. Breathing first. Sex later.
But even as he said it, lust coursed through him, thick and dangerous, and he knew that he was lying. He burned for her so badly he'd take her right then and there if he knew she wouldn't drown in the process.

Alice hesitated, then nodded her assent, her gaze searching his. In those green eyes, he saw fear and more than a hint of desire. But there was something else in there too. A fierce determination to do whatever it took to survive. Her will to survive was stronger than her fear of who he was. Respect flashed through him, a connection, because he called on that same survival instinct every single day to fight off the curse and live another day. Suddenly, offering to help her breathe was no longer simply a chance to ravish those decadent lips of hers.

It became so much more than that.

It became about preserving a spirit that was fighting to live. That was what he was all about. That mission defined the very essence of who he was, and what he'd been doing for six hundred years: protecting others. And now, to protect the woman he was meant to be with? It was what he was born to do.
You will live, Alice.
He tightened his grip on her and lowered his head toward hers. Satisfaction thrummed through him when she raised her face to his, entrusting herself into his protection, exactly how it was supposed to be.
I will keep you safe.

Then he took her mouth with his, and offered her life.

Chapter Two

Alice was too panicked about drowning to worry about the fact that Ian's lips were about to be on hers. Her head was spinning, and her lungs were burning so badly she could barely think. All she wanted was air. Oxygen. Life. If Ian's kiss meant she had a chance for all that, then she was all on board. It would be a salvation, not a sensual decadence.

Still fisting the pearl of Lycanth in her left hand, she raised her face to his and accepted his offer.

The moment his lips met hers, everything changed. Unbelievable warmth filled her. A burst of air raced through her, inflating her lungs like a gift from the heavens. His kiss was soft and tender, his lips a seductive caress that seemed to strip away all her defenses and catapult her into a place of safety and well-being. Her muscles shuddered with relief, and her heart seemed to expand in her chest. The agony in her lungs dissipated, and the muscles in her chest released their tight hold. The relief of being able to breathe was incredible. A gift. Somehow, he was filling her lungs with oxygen, or at least making them not need oxygen any more. She didn't understand, and a ripple of unease pricked at her.
How are you doing this?

Don't fight me.
Ian's voice was a caress in her mind, nothing like the angry orders he'd barked at her before.
It wastes oxygen if you fight me. You can make this easy, sweetheart.

Tears filled her eyes at his tenderness, at the gentle coaxing in his voice, at the intoxicating sensation of his kiss. Memories flooded her mind now, images of the time she'd met him before, the last time she'd been with him. She recalled the way he'd kissed her: not a kiss of life-giving tenderness, but a raging possession of heat and lust that had almost torn her apart. How could she have forgotten how he'd stoked all that desire in her, along with all the other emotions she wasn't supposed to be able to have? How he'd made her come alive with a fierce, raging intensity that ripped her from her cocoon of isolation and hurled her ruthlessly into a vortex of passion, fire, and
life
.

She'd forgotten all that. All of it. Until his kiss. Until his whispered caress. Until this moment.

When she'd first seen him coming toward her in the ocean moments ago, all she'd remembered was that he'd been there when she'd died three times. As he'd reached out for her, he'd seemed to be death incarnated, trying to kill her for the final time. For one terrifying moment, she'd been certain, so certain, that he was death finally coming to claim her...until she'd heard his voice in her mind. Until that rough and tender sound had filled her with a yearning so strong that it had obliterated all fear.

Yes,
he whispered as he deepened the kiss, as his tongue flicked against hers, igniting a spark of desire that seemed to simmer through her.
Like that. Let me in, Alice.

His reassuring warmth began to flow through her, a heat that chased away the cold of the ocean, the iciness of fear. She became aware of the strength of his body against hers. The steel core of his torso, the unyielding muscles in his arm where he had her locked down, the raw, untamed masculinity pouring off him. The button on the fly of his jeans was rough against her bare stomach.

His lips were soft and hot against hers, moving in a tantalizing rhythm that stripped all resistance from her. His tongue a seductive master, coaxing her response in a decadent invasion that made her want more. His kiss was more than a kiss. It was the offering of life, not just in that moment, but so much more. Her liberation? Her hope? Her future? Or...was he merely the
illusion
of safety, obscuring a threat that would result in her death for a fourth and final time?

Sudden fear congealed in her belly. Any man who could invoke such a response with his kisses was dangerous to her. And he'd been present every time she'd died. What was he really? Her salvation, her doom, or something else? What was she doing kissing him and entrusting herself to him? This was risky on so many levels—

Hey, hey, hey,
he said softly, his arm tightening around her back, crushing her breasts against his chest, making her nipples ache with need.
Don't pull back. Think good thoughts. Like how my mouth-to-mouth is better than any other guy's kiss... no, fuck that. Don't think of anyone else's kiss. That's a crappy idea.

She almost burst out laughing at his disgruntled tone, her laughter chasing away the fear that had been building in her. She realized she was in no position to be saying no to this man, not right now. Ian was saving her life, and heaven knew she pretty much sucked at saving herself. The larger threat he represented would just have to be dealt with later, when there was enough air around for her to breathe on her own.
You're jealous of another man kissing me?

Shit, yeah. You might not remember what happened between us, but sex of that magnitude has an impact on a man.
His mouth tightened on hers, and suddenly, it became more than an offering of air. It became the kiss of a man who wanted to possess, seduce, and devour the woman who was naked in his arms.

Oh... This was good. Really good. Terrifying...but it was also delicious and incredible to be the recipient of a kiss so full of lust that it couldn't be contained.

Heat and desire burst through her, coiling through her body like a hot wind on a summer night. Desperate need raced along her spine, and her resistance to him crumpled under his onslaught. He growled and amped up the intensity of the kiss, his mouth demanding and hot, his tongue no longer a tease, but an aggressive, dominating force that thrust past her defenses, igniting a fire that seemed to burn through her skin. The kiss became about heat and desire and passion. And need. Dear God, she craved him so deeply she wanted to tear off her skin and plunge inside him until there was nothing separating them, until they were one.

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck, pressing her body against his, meeting his kisses with a carnal desire of her own. Her tongue met his in a sinful dance of promise and temptation—

Jesus, Alice.
Ian broke the kiss suddenly, stripping her of the heat he'd been generating.

She gasped in protest, barely remembering to close her mouth before the saltwater poured down her throat. She wanted to yank him down toward her and make him kiss her again and again. Down her neck, over her collarbone, and across the swell of her breasts. Then he would take her nipple in his mouth and—

Don't finish that thought,
he interrupted, jerking her out of her fantasy, making her realize exactly how much she'd fallen under his spell with her erotic fantasies.

Oh, God. He was so much more dangerous than she'd even realized.

Ian was staring at her intently, his brown eyes stormy with dark clouds of desire, and her body throbbed in response. Ian growled, his jaw tight.
We are
so
going to finish that when we get out of here.

Out of here?
she echoed blankly, trying to gather her thoughts when all she could think about was his mouth trailing over her skin, his hands moving lower and—

Yes, here.
He grinned, a cocky grin, as if she'd just dubbed him king of the world because his kiss had made her forget everything else.
At the bottom of the ocean, dangling precariously over a chasm that's haunted by demon spirits who are trying to claim your soul. That's the here I'm talking about.

Oh...
His words wrenched her back to the present, to the fact they were hanging on the side of a cliff, protected from death only by his mace jammed into the rock. Oh, yeah,
that
here. Fear bubbled back up to the surface, and she glanced down. Only a few yards below them was the thick, shadowy mist from the demon world, waiting to take her soul. Ian was the only thing keeping her out of their reach.

She quickly jerked her attention back to her savior, to the bulging muscles in his arm as he held them in place with his mace. He was clearly straining now, calling upon his reserves to resist the vacuum trying to suck her down. How long could he fight it off? And how long would the Mageaan allow her to live and evade their trap? If they realized she had survived the assassination, they would soon be back to finish what the ocean and the demons hadn't been able to complete. Either way, she would die—