Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) (16 page)
Read Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) Online
Authors: Stephanie` Rowe
Ana spoke then. “Frank was keeping you alive because he wanted you available to take Ezekiel down if he couldn’t control him. You were his safety insurance.” She looked at him, and he saw the bitterness of reality in her eyes. “Frank had spent a long time planning his release of Ezekiel. If he believed you could take him down, then he had a reason for it. The place collapsed before I could find out what it was, but I know there’s a reason. You have something the others don’t.”
“And what exactly do I have?” He just wanted to know so he could get the hell out of there and finish what he’d been needing to do for five hundred years. Before he couldn’t do it...before Ezekiel figured out his weakness and—
No. He wasn’t going down that road. He wasn’t going to let it get to that point.
Elijah realized suddenly that no one had responded to his question, and he looked around the room “No one knows what my special talent is?”
There was silence.
A grim silence.
A silence that told him exactly how desperate they were.
Shit
. They were running blind. Dead blind. “I’m going to Ezekiel’s prison. I’ll find out if he’s still there or not, and then—”
Ryland stopped pacing. “We all go. To avenge Dante.”
“Avenge Dante?” Elijah frowned, suddenly noticing Dante’s absence. “Why isn’t he here? He’ll know.” Dante. Damn. Why hadn’t he thought of him before? Elijah’s legs suddenly started to tremble with relief. He’d been so consumed with Ana and trying to stay sane that he hadn’t thought of Dante. Shit. Dante was the one who’d brought Elijah back before. It had been so long since then that Elijah hadn’t thought of it in centuries, but shit! Dante could help him rebuild the walls in his mind and partition off the nightmares like he’d done five hundred years ago. Eagerness pulsed through Elijah. “Where is he?”
The room fell silent, and he felt the air thicken with grief. His own throat tightened when he realized what he was feeling. “Impossible,” he whispered. “No one could kill Dante.” Denial screamed in his mind for the man who’d rescued him, who’d brought him to this very house five hundred years ago and taught him that the nightmares in his head didn’t have to own him. It was Dante who taught him to shove it aside, Dante who was the one who could help him now. “Where the hell is he?”
Quinn’s gaze flicked to Ana. “Dante is dead.”
“No!” Denial assaulted Elijah, followed by anger, an intense fury that rose inside him like a black wraith, hitting him hard. His body shook with rage, with loss, with such utter devastation, and he felt his walls start to fall. His control shattering— “He can’t be dead.
He can’t be
.”
It was Ryland who answered. “He is dead.” His voice was so bitter, harsh and
lost
that Elijah knew instantly it was true.
It was true.
He threw back his head and roared, his emotions ripping out of him for the man who had been their leader for so long. Their salvation. Every one of the warriors in the room had been saved by Dante, and every one of them was dependent on him for survival.
Including him.
Especially him. Especially
now
.
A demon appeared in the corner of the room, sitting on the wall, teeth bared, claws dripping with blood. Then another next to it. Then another.
Oh, shit
.
Elijah started to back toward the door, panic rushing through him, his stomach lurching—
Ana’s fingers tightened around his. Her hand was ice cold in his grasp. Then her mind touched his, enveloping him in warmth and light and rationality.
There’s no threat right now, Elijah. It’s not there. It’s an illusion.
With her presence in his mind and her hand in his, Elijah’s head cleared, and he suddenly realized the demons weren’t real. They couldn’t hurt him.
Fuck off
, he snarled. All three of them blinked out.
Then he thought of Dante again, and the grief came crashing back, the panic, the—
Quinn’s palm came down heavily onto Elijah’s shoulder, and Elijah felt the depth of Quinn’s grief mirroring his own. Elijah raised his head to look into his friend’s eyes. “How do you deal?”
Quinn shook his head. “I’m still trying.”
Gideon walked up beside Quinn and Elijah, dropping his shields and letting Elijah into his own private hell of grief from the loss as well.
Elijah closed his eyes and let the strength of his friends seep into him. Their grief was as deep and brutal as his, but they’d had time to build their defenses, to cope with it, to make themselves able to function, and he gratefully accepted their strength. He had no time to collapse now. He’d never survive it.
Quinn’s gaze flicked to Ana, then back to Elijah. “Dante died to keep Ezekiel from getting free. Frank and Nate were going to use him in the rite so Ezekiel could feed on Dante’s power. Dante chose death instead.”
“His sacrifice will not be in vain. Those who are responsible for his death must die.” There was so much fury and anger in Ryland’s voice that Elijah’s forearm tingled and he slowly raised his head to look at Ryland and make sure his eyes hadn’t turned red. Without Dante around to keep Ryland under control, it was simply a matter of
when
Ryland went rogue. Not
if
.
But in this, Ryland was right. Elijah met his gaze, felt his own rage mirror Ryland’s. “Everyone responsible for Dante’s death
will
die.” He could feel it in the emotions raging through him, and he embraced it, letting his anger, his grief give him strength and fire, everything he would need to take down Ezekiel and survive the hell of his mind long enough to do what he needed to do.
“
Everyone
responsible for Dante’s death will die?” Ryland’s eyes were black with rage and his gaze flicked to Ana. “Then you should know that your
sheva
killed—”
“No need for that.” Thano interrupted, stepping between Elijah and Ryland. “Let’s focus on what we’re doing. The only thing that matters is stopping Ezekiel. Whether you do it to honor Dante or because that’s our job as Order members, it’s our only focus right now.” He looked hard at Ryland. “No need to fuck it up by bringing up things that don’t matter right now, right?”
There was a tension in the room that wasn’t about Ryland almost going rogue, and it didn’t settle when Ryland shrugged and walked away. Elijah could feel that everyone’s thoughts were focused on Ana.
Elijah slowly stood up, blocking everyone’s view of Ana. He didn’t know what was going on with her, but he didn’t like the threats angled in her direction. There was a hostility aimed directly at her, and he had a sudden realization that some members of the Order were very,
very
close to taking her out.
What’s going on, Ana?
Elijah brushed her mind as he unfolded his arm to ready himself to call out his throwing star, his adrenaline skyrocketing.
She didn’t answer, but he caught an image from her mind. Of Dante falling to the ground, screaming, his hands over his ears, terror emanating from every pore, his body shaking with debilitating horror.
Sweat broke out on Elijah’s forehead, and he stumbled as he saw Nate lunge at Dante and slash his throat. “Jesus.” Elijah’s body began to shake, and Ana grabbed him as he fell to his knees, his hands on his throat, screams welling up. The acrid smell of blood assaulted him, the agonizing sound of millions of people being tortured, the terror of a death more horrific than his worst nightmares—
“Stop it!” Ana shouted at Elijah, her hands digging into his shoulders. “Those are my memories! Not yours!”
Her voice touched a place in Elijah’s mind, and suddenly her hands felt hot against his skin, and reality came tumbling back. He grabbed Ana and hauled her against his chest, holding her tightly as the last visions of Dante’s death faded, leaving behind nothing but the violent horror of the illusions shaking through his body.
What the fuck was that?
She pressed her face into his neck, her body shaking as violently as his.
I was there. My illusion brought Dante down so Nate could kill him. I did it, Elijah. I killed your leader.
Jesus.
His own mate had killed Dante? Shock rolled through him, and he pulled back from her, stunned by her claim.
You’re wrong.
No. I did it.
Those silver eyes were full of such guilt and self-recrimination, pain that reached into his soul and found a place of softness that he didn’t know he had. He couldn’t condemn her, couldn’t blame her, not when he could feel her guilt hammering at him, tearing apart her soul, shredding what little courage she still had.
Come here.
Elijah tightened his grip on her and pulled her back against him, offering Ana comfort instead of taking it from her.
Her eyes were so haunted, and so heavily burdened with all that her time with Nate had cost her. She was broken inside, truly broken. Elijah framed her face in his hands, wiping away the single tear that had managed to escape her rigid control.
It wasn’t your fault
.
There was no doubt in his mind she hadn’t had a choice in it. He might be half-mad, but he knew that Ana’s heart and soul beat with a purity that he’d never encountered in five hundred years of living. She was pure innocence, no matter what she had done or experienced.
Yes, it was my fault.
The expression on Ana’s face denied his words so thoroughly he knew she’d never believe him. She
couldn’t
believe him. The way he saw demons, she saw blood on her hands.
He burned suddenly with rage for the bastards who had robbed her of her innocence, who had poured tar into her soul and let it fester. Murdering was for Order members like him, not for Ana. Never for Ana.
She met his gaze, her eyes haunted with guilt.
I had no idea I could pull you into my memories through the bond. I would have warned you. I would have tried to block them.
She gripped his wrists, her focus once again turning away from herself and onto him, and his well-being.
Elijah, what is this going to do to you if you start getting sucked into the illusions I’ve already done? Revisiting them with me through our bond?
He swore softly.
Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be the best way for us to spend a leisurely afternoon.
He sensed Gideon and Quinn probing at his mind, trying to listen to their conversation, and he redoubled his shields to keep them out, something he wasn’t used to doing. Not with them. But any weakness had to be hidden...except what he couldn’t hide from Ana. She had to know, and even though he detested admitting weakness to anyone, especially his
sheva
, he had no choice.
Not when the weakness was her, and she could destroy them both if she wasn’t careful. They both needed to know exactly how dangerous she was to him.
She gave him a grim look.
I’m your worst nightmare, right in front of you.
And my only chance at sanity. Don’t forget the good stuff either.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, trying to focus on the softness, on how good it felt to touch her.
I gotta admit, it pisses me off to be dependent on anyone. It’s hell on my manly ego.
She laughed softly, a wealth of understanding in the weariness of her eyes.
Trust me, I understand. More than you could know.
He took a deep breath, letting her scent ease the residual panic still pulsing at him. “We need to get out of here.” He had to take action. He had to move forward and get things done before he snapped. How much time did he have? He had no idea, but he knew it wasn’t long.
She nodded. “To the prison?”
“Yeah.”
“You have to strengthen the bond,” Quinn interrupted, pulling Elijah’s attention off Ana and back to the room. “You can’t afford to go crazy, and Ana’s the only thing keeping you sane. The knowledge of Dante’s death nearly sent you over the edge. You can’t afford that. You need to be connected more tightly with her.”
“No.” Elijah quickly stood up and helped Ana to her feet, aware of the fact that his being down on his knees wasn’t exactly going to be instilling confidence into anyone. “We’ve got it covered.” He didn’t want Quinn or Gideon or anyone trying to tell them what to do. The situation was so much dicier than they understood, and Elijah needed to finesse it without their interference.
“You haven’t seen Ezekiel, Elijah,” Quinn persisted. “He’s unstoppable, and you’ll never take him down unless you’re at full strength. Tighten the bond so you can fight without holding onto Ana. Lock her into your soul so he can’t drag you down. It’s the only way.”
“How the hell do you know what the way is?” Elijah couldn’t keep the edginess out of his voice. “What do you know about Ezekiel? You can’t—” He stopped himself a split second before he spilled the secrets he’d hidden for so long. “I’m going to the prison. Alone.” He held up his hand as Quinn started to protest. “It makes more sense. You guys scout for him around here, and I’ll touch base and see what’s up. It’s more efficient.”
Ana’s hand tightened in his, and he knew she’d felt the tension he was hiding from his team. As much as it bothered him that she could invade his mind, a part of him was eternally grateful that she knew he was absolutely fucking
terrified
by the demons in his head, by the thought he could relapse into that state of total and utter hell that had nearly destroyed him five hundred years ago.
Ana knew the line he was treading, and she’d keep his secret. Her loyalty to him was evident, and he had to admit that it felt damn good to know that the
sheva
bond made it possible for him to count on her without reservations—assuming of course she didn’t make him snap, first. Because he knew in his gut, with absolute certainty, that if he fell into that hole again, no one would be able to get him out.
Not even Ana.
After a quick discussion with Gideon, Quinn grudgingly nodded his agreement to let Elijah head to the prison, but the rigidity of his body language said he was ready to change his mind if there was the slightest provocation. “You’ll give me a shout if you need anything?”
“Yeah.”
Kane stepped forward. “You want me to take you?”
