Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade) (14 page)

"Eight times?" Jesus. He knew what Tristan could do, and he knew that Tristan never did it. She hadn't meant
that
, had she? "You mean, he defended you?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "If he's your brother, you know what I mean."

Son of a bitch. "He brought you back from the dead. He's not allowed to do that. He never does it."

"He did it for me." She met his gaze. "What happened to him, Eric?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. And you're the first lead I've gotten." Well, not the first one. There was one more. He paused. "Do you believe in vampires?"

Jordyn's eyes widened, and her face paled. She stared at him for so long he began to feel stupid. He gritted his teeth, already regretting bringing it up. It wasn't as if he had proof. Just rumors circulating. "Nevermind—"

"Yes."

His gaze shot to hers. "You do?"

"When you grow up in the Louisiana bayou, you hear stories and see things that you wish you'd never seen, especially at night." She gripped the strap of her backpack so tightly her knuckles were white. "You think Tristan…" Her words trailed off as Eric shook his head.

"I don't know. I hope not. I just..." He shrugged. "I need to find him." He was still trying to grasp the notion that Tristan had resurrected this woman eight times. At what cost? Why had he done it? What did Jordyn mean to him? Was Jordyn Tristan's woman? The thought of it made something clench in his gut. Jesus. What the hell was going on? Whatever reason Tristan had had for saving Jordyn, it meant one thing for sure: Jordyn was important to him. Not just important. Critical. Life-and-death critical, or he never would have done it. And
eight times.
"I need your help. He needs your help."

Jordyn nodded once, her gaze steely. "Of course I'll help. I owe him." She looked over her shoulder into the woods, and he knew what she was thinking. How did she choose between her friend and Tristan? She looked back at him. "Rhiannon first," she said. "Tristan would agree."

He wanted to argue. After searching for a year, wondering how much longer the two brothers could stay alive when they were physically apart, he wanted to grab Jordyn and head straight to the bayou, but she was right.

Tristan would kick his ass if he showed up to rescue him without making sure that Jordyn's friend was safe first. Growling under his breath, he nodded. "Fine, but let's make it fast." Like, really, damn fast. How hard could it be to track down a girl and her ex in over a billion acres of rainforest? They'd be out by sunset.

He'd make sure of it.

This was not how Zach had imagined tracking down the fire god and saving Thano. He'd envisioned something like charging into camp, decapitating José with his pinkie, racing home waving the staff victoriously over his head, saving Thano, and then spending the next five hours on the receiving end of Thano's good-humored barbs for taking so damn long to save him.

Instead, he was apparently pretending to be a statue, which, no matter how he tried to frame it, just didn't feel like progress.

He had not moved for almost fifty-seven minutes, and had not breathed for seventeen of them.

He'd just stood there, insects crawling down his neck, while Rhiannon lay on her back in the middle of the jungle, her arms and feet spread, her eyes closed, and her mouth parted slightly.

For the first ten minutes, he'd been completely distracted by the way her shirt stretched across her chest, accentuating her seriously tempting, rounded breasts. He hadn't been blind to the way her shirt rode up slightly, revealing an expanse of bare stomach above the waistband of her camouflage pants. And he sure as hell hadn't been able to keep himself from watching the beads of sweat trickling in rivulets down her chest and disappearing under her shirt.

He'd never thought of sweat as lucky before, but yeah, well, watching those droplets slide over her skin like that... Lucky was the word that came to mind. He was pretty sure that being jealous of sweat wasn't a sign that it was going to be a good day.

She bolted upright suddenly, and slammed her hands down on the dirt by her hips. "Seriously? How am I supposed to concentrate when you're making so much noise?"

He blinked. "What noise? I haven't breathed in an hour. You do realize that's pretty difficult to do, don't you? Not every guy could have delivered the way I did."

She glared at him. "I can hear your heart beating. It's kind of loud."

"My heart?" He stared at her. "You want me to stop my heart from beating?"

She brightened. "Can you do that?"

"No, I can't do that."

She groaned and flopped back on the ground, draping her arms over her face in an impressive display of aggravation. "I thought Calydons were great warriors. How come a warrior can't manage to be stealthy?"

He scowled. "I am stealthy. I just happen to be alive, which accounts for the heart-beating thing. You, however, might want to consider that you're a little oversensitive. I mean, you're fifteen yards away from me. If my heartbeat is really that distracting, then it might be a reflection of your inability to concentrate. And how are you hearing my heartbeat anyway? It's pretty damn quiet."

She sighed and sat up again, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. Her hair was starting to come out of its bun, and some of the strands were pretty long. He wondered how long it would be when it was down. It looked thick and soft. How soft?

"Okay," she said, interrupting his wandering thoughts. "You're right. It's not you." She sighed again, and looked so despondent, he couldn't help but feel a little inadequate that he couldn't stop his heart for her.

She tucked a stray tendril back into her bun. "The reason I can hear your heart is because I've trained myself to listen for heartbeats. It was the one thing that José didn't bother to hide from me. I could tell from his heart rate what mood he was in and what he was planning to do to me." She shrugged. "It was sort of this pathetic little victory to know his plans before he did them. Yay, me, right?"

He grinned at her cheerleader attempt. "Hey, small victories add up." Assuming he was now allowed to resume normal body functions and physical activities, he rolled his shoulders and scanned the woods around them, just to make sure no one had dropped in for a visit while he was playing frozen and obsessing over her stomach. "You want to tell me now what you were trying to do?" She'd been stubbornly uncommunicative when she'd dropped to the ground and ordered him to stand guard and make no sound an hour ago. Since she was the one who knew her way around, he'd gone along with it.

Five minutes into the silence, he'd decided he was much too amiable of a guy, but when he'd tried to break the silence, she'd shut him right down. Now, at least, she was talking. Always a bonus when it came to a woman.

She ran her fingers over a branch. "I used to be able to communicate with vegetation. I was trying to connect with the forest. The plants would be able to tell me where José was and everything that is going on in the jungle." She pressed a kiss to the leaf. "They don't talk to me anymore," she said quietly.

"Why not?" He ran his fingers over a nearby leaf, and felt only the damp coolness of the plant. It wasn't talking to him either, which wasn't exactly unexpected.

"Because I'm an emotional wreck, probably. It's a total drain on my resources to be on the edge of descending into a sobbing pile of mush on the ground all the time, you know?"

"You?" He shot a surprised look at her. "You seem like you totally have your shit together."

She laughed then, and tucked another stray strand of hair behind her ear, refusing to capitulate to its apparent desire to be unrestrained and free. "It's all a lie, Zach. I'm a mess." Her smile faded. "But we need help from the plants to deal with José. He's too much to deal with on our own."

"Nah." Zach walked over to her and held out his hand to pull her to her feet. "I've killed a lot of bad guys in my life. I'm really good at it."

She raised her brows. "He's not your average jerk."

"I'm not your average superhero-type. So, we'll fit." He wiggled his fingers at her to invite her to take his hand, but he couldn't help but think about the fact that Rohan had said the only way to defeat the fire god was with fire. Which he didn't have anymore.

Not that it mattered. Rohan was not a god. He didn't know everything. He had no idea what a fantastic warrior Zach had become. "Come on. If you're not going to merge brain cells with the plants, you might as well get vertical."

For a moment, she eyed his hand as if he had the plague. He was just about to pull it back and pretend he'd just been stretching, when she surprised him by reaching up and wrapping her hand around his.

The moment her palm slid against his, he felt electricity spark between them. Rhiannon sucked in her breath, and her eyes widened. "Wait!" She tightened her grip on his hand and grabbed a plant with the other. She scrunched her eyes shut, and whispered something under her breath.

He decided maybe he should stop breathing again.

He even tried to slow his heart down, but that wasn't going to work, not with her small hand gripping his so tightly. Every one of his senses was attuned to her. He could feel her pulse hammering in her wrist beneath his fingers. She smelled like fresh earth and nature. This close to her, he could see the little lines of tension around her mouth, and the soft curve of her lips. She was incredibly feminine and delicate, even with her cargo pants, hiking boots, and the dagger at her hip.

"Damn." She released his hand suddenly and opened her eyes. "When you first touched me, I felt something spark through me. For a split second, I heard the symphony of the jungle, sounds I haven't heard for so long." She eyed him curiously. "I thought you were the link, but then it went away."

"We could try touching again." He tried to keep his voice devoid of inflection. He really did, but he couldn't quite stop the leap of adrenaline at the idea of "touching" and "Rhiannon" in the same thought.

She backed up a step. "You looked at my breasts when you said that."

Shit.
"Did I? Sorry. I didn't mean to." Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? "I was just thinking that it would be good to get the jungle on our side. If there's a way to get the plants back in your head, that would be a good thing, right? That's all I meant." Yeah, right. That was all he meant. He thought she was hot as hell, and no amount of denying it was going to change that fact. And apparently, he was complete crap at hiding it. He grimly watched her back up another step, like a skittish fawn who had just noticed she was standing next to a hungry predator. The moment the analogy went through his mind, he realized that she was right.

That was exactly how she made him feel. Like a predator after a helpless fawn. Not that she was helpless with her dagger and bow, but there was something about her beneath the tough veneer that was vulnerable and broken. That's what he saw. That's what he was responding to. And that's what made him feel like a complete ass for wanting her.

He held up his hand to tell her to stop retreating. "Wait."

She eased to a stop. "What?"

He met her gaze. "I made you a promise back there, didn't I? That I wouldn't hurt you?"

She nodded.

"If I touch you sexually without your permission, that counts as assault in my book. So, yeah, I think you're sexy as hell, and I want to pull you into my arms and chase away all the shadows haunting you until there's nothing left in that mind of yours except me, but I'm not going to cross that line. It's not the way I am." He ground his jaw. "And honestly, Rhiannon, you're too damned tempting. I haven't wanted a woman this badly since my wife, and that's not a place I want to go again. I can't need a woman that badly again—" He cut himself off, too late, grimacing at what he'd revealed. His wife? Jesus.

She blinked. "Your wife? You're married?"

"Was. She's dead." Shit. He didn't want to talk about that. He couldn't talk about that. He picked up her crossbow. "Which way?"

He'd expected platitudes about his dead wife, but she didn't give him any. She just stood there looking at him, her face alive with a miasma of undecipherable emotions. "Was she your
sheva
?"

"No, she was not." He picked up her quiver. "I married her because I loved her." He held up his arm to show the runes on his flesh. "I use these to block the
sheva
bond, so there was nothing between us except us. No bonds. Just her. Which way do we go?"

She was
still
staring at him, her brow furrowed. "She married you of her own free will? Voluntarily? You didn't force her or anything?"

"Force her? Seriously? Why? Do I look like such an ogre that no woman could love me?" He was in a rank mood now. The conversation was leading to too many things he didn't think about anymore. "Yeah, Rhiannon, she loved me. She shouldn't have. And now she's dead. Any more questions?"

"One."

He glared at her. "Another question? Did you fail to notice that I don't want to talk about it?"

She nodded. "Of course I noticed. But I still have another question. Just one more."

Hell. The woman was relentless. Why the hell wasn't she like other people and backing off when he made it clear he didn't want to talk about it? Gritting his teeth, he turned to face her, giving her his worst scowl, daring her to ask it. "What's the question?"

She asked it. "Did you kill her?"

He stiffened at the question that hit so close to the truth that he actually felt a stab of pain in his chest. "What kind of question is that?" But even as he shot the retort at her, he saw the vulnerability in her eyes, and realized that it wasn't an accusation about who he was. It was driven by her own fears about what men were like. His anger faded instantly, and he shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "I didn't. I tried to save her." Tried, and failed.
Failed.