Darkness Undone (16 page)

He went motionless.

A heartbeat.

Two.

Then he hauled her into his arms and took over, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. The taste of him was a punch to her gut. White-hot desire tore through her. She rubbed her sensitized body against his, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He picked her up, spun around and pressed her up against a stack of crates covered with sack, his groin grinding into her core as his mouth devoured hers. Her legs tightened around his hips.

Desire burned higher. She wanted his hands on her bare skin.

“More, I need more,” she whimpered against his mouth.

Lost in her need, she pulled his t-shirt free to slide her hands under the cotton fabric to caress his warm, muscled back. “I need you.”

“Eve—”

“Stop talking—” She wrapped his hair around her fists, keeping him there. She kissed him harder.

His hands dropped to her hips, holding her still. Lips lingered. Hands stroked her back, once, twice, and then he broke the kiss and held her in a tight embrace.

“Gods, Eve—” A half groan tore free from him, his erection a hard, tempting length against her throbbing center. “Eve, stop.” He lowered her down to her feet. Easing away, he searched her face.

“Why?” she growled. “I know you want me.”

He rubbed his jaw; a streak of red slashed his cheekbones. “I can't take advantage of your vulnerable state.”

“Vulnerable—
vulnerable
?” she snapped, unable to think past the need roiling through her like wildfire.

“It’s…the scroll. I would take it from you if I could, but I can’t. Just hang onto it for a little bit longer. We’ll put it in a safe place. And you’ll be fine.”

Panting, she glared at him. “You should have warned me,” she hissed through teeth clenched so hard her jaw hurt.

“I’m sorry, Eve.”

Yeah, he was sorry. Try being a twenty-five-year-old virgin, who was so horny she was seconds from ripping his clothes off. She shoved back strands from her heated face and stomped away in frustration.

After several deep breaths, which did little to ease her, Eve went back to where she’d dropped the scroll. Keeping her gaze off him was the devil’s work. But she did. She picked up the parchment and pushed it back into another lead tube he held out.

“Eve—”

“Let’s just get out of here.” She didn’t look at him, just headed for the door with that stupid ball of light following them.

***

Eve found Lucan wearing a path outside her apartment. And was tempted not to invite him inside. Did he think she’d renege on her promise that he had to make a personal appearance?

She was well aware that he didn’t like her. But right then, she cared little for his reasons because that priest—mage, whatever the hell he was, looked damn tempting, too. Being in Reynner’s arms again as he dematerialized them back, did little to cool her ardor.

Lucan examined the scroll she’d removed from the tube and left on the dining table without touching it. They weren’t taking any chances with the parchment disappearing again. He turned to speak to Reynner.

Whatever he said didn’t register; she had no interest in their conversation.

Good thing Lucan was easy on the eyes. Far better to gaze at him than to long for what was so far out of her reach. Hell, it would probably be easier to get Lucan into bed than Reynner. She certainly didn't want Lucan, but with needs so rampant, she felt like someone else possessed her body.

She rubbed trembling palms down her yoga pants. God
,
she needed some damn relief…

***

The musky scent of Eve’s arousal tormented Reynner as she paced near the window. His entire body wired hard in response to her needs, his sex rigid and uncomfortable behind his fly.

He shoved clenched hands into his pockets. She didn't understand. If he touched her the way she—hell,
he
wanted, he’d taint her with the filth roiling inside him —the darkness—and
that
he refused to let happen.

“Eve,” Lucan called out. “Let’s get started.”

She paused in her restless walking. Desire stroked a flush across her cheekbones. Reynner doubted she actually saw Lucan, but while she was still trapped in the grips of the scroll’s spell, if anyone touched her right now, she wouldn’t care, all she’d seek was relief—

“No.” Reynner intercepted, putting himself between them. “Keep that away from her.”

“Reyn,” Lucan said impatiently. “This is hardly the time to get—” He stilled, nostrils flaring, irritating the shit out of Reynner. Yeah, the bastard could smell Eve’s arousal, too.

His cool eyes shifted to her for a second, then without a word, Lucan set a lead box on the dining table. And waited.

“Eve, come.” Reynner motioned for her to join him.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and shook her head. “I’m not coming near th-that thing again.”

“Eve.” He hardened his gaze so she’d get moving. “Put the scroll back inside the cylinder. We’ll do the scrying later.” When she didn't, he snapped, “
Now
.”

Scowling, she shot him another heated look, one laced with anger and edged with desire.

But to be the focus of her passion—gods, if that didn’t make his bloody cock stir in anticipation.

She marched over, snatched the scroll off the table, and dropped it into the tube, capping it.

Her cell rang. She dropped the cylinder like yesterday’s trash in the lead box, grabbed her phone off the table, and answered. “David.” A breathy sigh left her as if all were right in her world. Her tone dipped, became throaty. “No, of course, it’s not too late...”

Not too late? At fucking three in the morning?

Reynner walked over. Just because he couldn’t touch her didn’t mean she could saunter on to the next available male.

“Yes…tomorrow’s still on… why would I cancel? All right, see you then.” She wiped her palm down her black pants again. “Er, David, would you—”

No. Fucking. Way.
Before he did something they’d both regret, Reynner snatched the cell from her and disconnected the call. “Speak to the artist when you’re less susceptible to the scroll.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I didn’t ask for your advice. And it’s none of your business if David comes over.”

He stepped closer, lowered his voice. “Oh, yes it is, Eve. If you think him to be my replacement—”

Rage flashed in her green eyes, stopping him dead in his tracks, and breathless in anticipation.

“You bastard,” she hissed and shoved him hard in the chest. He barely felt the hit, but he let the momentum take him back. Her hurt and anger lashed at him, pounding him with regret.

She stormed off. Seconds later, her room door banged shut, the sound resonating down the short passage and into the pit in his chest.

A crack ricocheted through the air.

Reynner glanced at her cell he held; the glass sported a spidery crack. Breathing harshly, anger bleeding through his pores, he tossed the phone onto the counter.

“Put that thing someplace it can’t cause any more problems,” he snapped, nodding at the scroll.

Lucan locked the lead box. The tight set of his mouth slapped Reynner with the truth. Lucan was just as aroused.

He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted him gone.

Lucan, however, made no move to leave.

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

“The morning. So we can try again.”

“You think that shit flies with me? Get out, Luc, and take the damn box with you. I’ll bring her to Exilum in the morning.” Reynner stalked to the front door and yanked it open.

His brow climbing up, silently, Lucan picked up the lead box and strode from the apartment.

Eve’s eyelids cracked open. The bright sunlight streaming in between parted curtains made her wince. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes tight feeling as if she’d crawled out of a fog…

Then reality smacked her in the face and last night’s debacle came back in all its ghastly detail.

Ack
, now she’d have to face Reynner.

So not the way she wanted to start the day. A pity hiding in bed couldn’t be a constitutional right for gut-churning embarrassment.

Forcing her lethargic limbs to move, she rolled off the bed and stumbled from her room, down the short hallway, and to the bathroom. Eyes half closed, she turned on the faucet, undressed, and stepped into the shower. The rush of cool water beating down on her slapped her back into normalcy.

No, hiding wasn’t the way she rolled anymore. She’d just have to chalk this up to another of life’s little lessons. Eve took stock of herself. No buzzing or sexual hum or whatever the heck spell the scroll had had her under. All was as it should be with just blood flowing through her veins. She heaved a sigh of relief.

After a quick shower, she toweled off and pulled on underwear, followed by khaki-green capris and a white cap-sleeves top. She fastened her damp hair in a high ponytail, slipped her feet into flip-flops and headed for the kitchen, the scent of coffee drifting to her.

She found Reynner alone in the living room, dressed for the day in black jeans and a gray tee, his hair tied back with a black elastic band.

At her entrance, he turned from the window. She wondered if he ever relaxed. Everything about him was too contained, except for that time in his bedroom when he’d lost control. He may have been furious with her, but that’s how she wanted him. All raw passion focused only on her.

She met his cool gaze. No, she wouldn’t ever see him lose control like that again.

Swallowing her regret, she poured a mug of coffee, loaded it with sugar, and took a deep drink.

Reynner crossed to the small counter that separated the kitchen. “Are you all right?”

She nearly choked on her coffee.
Of course, he’d ask about last night.
Her gaze shifted to a bakery box on the counter and clung to it like a lifeline. “I’m fine. You got doughnuts?”

She lifted the lid off the carton and found an assortment of cakes. Selecting one powdered with sugar, she took a bite. Nope, she couldn’t imagine Lucan trekking through the Village to buy doughnuts. He’d probably freeze everyone with his glacial stare. It had to be Reynner.

“Where’s the mage,” she asked, licking her lips free of powered sugar.

“Gone.” At the abrupt response, she looked up. The burn in that indigo stare held her breathless. He looked like he wanted to devour her. And naturally, her treacherous body melted in response.

But when his expression closed off, wiping out the moment like it had never happened, pain rose from deep within her. Her appetite disappeared. She dropped the doughnut back into the box. If he could pretend there was nothing between them, then she’d just have to try, as well.

Eve forced her mind back on the job she had to do. “What happens next?”

“Once the scroll reveals the location of the Stone, we go get it.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “I asked Lucan to hold off with the scrying since the scroll seemed to be having an adverse effect on you. It would be safer if we went back to Exilum to do the rest.”

He didn’t have to remind her that their enemies were lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to grab the artifact.

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

That’s what he thought. Before she took off to another realm, her life on this one needed her attention first. She discarded her coffee and rinsed her mug in the sink. “Not today.”

“Why not?”

Setting the cup aside, she shut off the faucet and faced him. “Because I have a life here, too. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. And I can’t have my friends wondering where I am.” At his narrowed-eyed look, she couldn’t resist adding, “You can come over tomorrow, I should be ready.”

“So you can keep your date with the artist?” The flat words took on a razor edge.

“That’s none of your business.” It wasn’t jealousy that provoked his reaction, but his determination to not let anything stand in his way of finding the artifact.

Well, too damn bad. She choked back her anger, swiped her car keys and bag off the counter, and stormed to the front door. And came to a grinding halt when she found him already there. She really hated that he could move so fast.

It was pointless to say anything, especially when he had
that
look on his face. One that spelled trouble, all tight lips and hard eyes. Clamping down her frustration, she stalked out of the apartment. When she stopped beside her blue Mini Cooper, he stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Unlike normal people, she couldn’t take public transport because the risks were too great. A crowd meant opening herself to a crapload of emotions. And summer was far too hot to wear gloves all the time.

Reynner strode over to his Porsche parked on the opposite side of the street. He opened the passenger door and waited. As far as the debate of wills went, she wasn’t winning this one.

“Where to?” he asked once they were in the car.

“The gallery.”

***

Eve thankfully stepped out of the ancient elevator when the door finally chimed open on the sixth floor. Being so close to Reynner wasn’t good for her peace of mind. Now with the scroll in hand, it should only be a matter of days before the Stone was located. Then Reynner would be gone.

She pulled in a deep breath and tried to ease the compression in her chest at the thought as she entered the air-conditioned gallery. The strong odor of linseed oil and paint assailed her nose.

Eric wasn’t in, but his assistant, James, was. Slender and average height, he slouched at his desk, one hand playing with his spiked brown hair as he spoke on the phone.

Whereas Reynner was beautiful in a masculine way, James was pretty with his pale skin and sharp features. He looked up.

“Eve, so good to see you, girl. David swung by earlier—” Then he did a double-take when his gaze landed on Reynner. Hastily, he cut off his call and rose to his feet, interest gleaming in his baby blues. “Eric’s at the warehouse. Let me show you.”

Eve snorted. As if she didn’t know who had garnered James’s sudden interest in playing tour guide. “Thanks, James. I’m sure I can find my way.”

“Wait-wait.” he stopped them, his attention still on Reynner. “I saw you at David’s show.”

Reynner nodded, his expression like stone. Eve was sure it wasn’t because of the subtle, sexy vibes James was sending him, but rather that David had been mentioned. After last night—and Reynner’s reaction this morning—she’d have to be blind not to realize he didn't like David.

James stopped and stared at them in confusion, then shook his head and went back to his desk.

“What did you do?” she asked Reynner, because she knew James. He wasn’t one to walk away that easily.

“I willed him to leave.” Reynner cut her a grim look. “It saves time. Where’s the warehouse?”

“Fifth floor.”

Not wanting to be boxed in with him again, she ignored the elevator and headed for the stairwell and took the dimly lit stairs down, Reynner behind her.

Moment’s later, Eve shoved open the door to the warehouse. The drone of voices and the sounds of wooden lids clattering to the floor, welcomed her, easing the tension building inside her.

Eric, in tattered jeans and a faded blue tee, supervised several workers unpacking her sculptures. He saw her and closed the distance easily with his quick strides and a smile.

“Eve, good, you’re here.” He rubbed her arm in greeting then frowned at Reynner who stood beside her, looking all hard-eyed lethal with that edge of anger she still sensed in him.

“I wanted to check on the sculptures,” she said quickly, pulling Eric’s gaze back to her. “But they seem to have survived the journey. I better reassemble them.”

“What do you need to do?” Reynner asked her.

She cut him a quick look as she pulled out the box of clamps from her bag. “It’s a simple procedure putting them together. I’m good.”

“Eve.”

He said her name in that low, inflexible tone, which meant he expected an answer. And she really didn't want Eric drawn into whatever this thing between them was. “Okay. Let me show you.”

“So, Eve, you going to introduce us?” Eric’s dark brow climbed up in a manner that told her there would be questions. She stifled a sigh. That’s what happened when you grew up with someone who knew everything about you—well, almost everything.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she made the introduction. “Eric, this is Reynner—Reynner, my friend, Eric Randall.”

As was his habit, Reynner nodded. Eric probably took his cue from Reynner and responded in kind.

Okay, then. She could do without the tension-filled non-bonding going on.

Eve glanced at the sculpture closest to her,
“Trees in a Storm.” The piece was several inches taller than her, the metal branches bent over, blowing in one direction. She set the clamps on the crate. Quickly and efficiently, she reassembled several of the lower branches, showing Reynner how the clamps worked to attach them. The top was tricky, needing a specialized bracket.

The large, empty crate was still near the sculpture. She kicked off her flip-flops, shook her head when Reynner stepped up to help her, and clambered, unaided and undignified, onto the crate to attach the branch and clamp it into place.

“It’s really easy,” she murmured and turned to hop off the box.

Reynner grasped her around the waist. Startled, her hands fluttered to his shoulders. She met his dark, determined stare. Her heart raced around in her chest as he set her on the floor. Despite everything that had happened between them, Eve wished desperately for him to hold her just for a minute—a second. But he dropped his hands and stepped back.

Eve lowered her gaze and slipped on her flip-flops, disappointment sliding to her stomach like a ball of copper wire.

“Eve, a word,” Eric said. His expression hard, he nailed Reynner a cold look. Aw, crap, Eric had to have seen that little exchange between them.

Eric led her between several large crates to the far end of the storeroom. He lowered his voice and got straight to the point. “Who is he? And what are you doing with him?”

She sighed at the brotherly grilling. When her folks died, Eric’s parents became her guardians. They had been friends since she was a little girl. Several years older than her, Eric had been the one she’d leaned on while she’d grappled with her devastating loss and came to terms with the horror of not being able to touch anyone.

“He’s a friend, Eric.”

“Don’t feed me that line. I know you met him at David’s show—I’m not blind, Eve. Are you involved with him?”

She wished she could say yes. Her gaze flickered over to where Reynner was making rapid progress assembling her sculptures, then glanced away. “Not in the way you think. I’m helping him with something—and, no, I’m not telling you. Christ, Eric, give a girl some privacy.”

At the concern in his hazel eyes, she relented. “I’m sorry. I like him, Eric,” she whispered. “I really do.”

“Does he return those feelings?”

“It’s complicated.” Her friend understood how difficult it was for her to form any real relationships with her disability. Whatever he saw in her face, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Her fingers balled, Eve hugged him back and blinked away the dampness in her eyes.

He glanced at Reynner, lowered his voice. “He looks…dangerous. Just be careful, okay? You’re my little sister, Eve, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Because then I’d have to hurt him, and he’d probably flatten me—you don’t want that, do you?”

With a trembling smile, she eased back. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not pushing.”

He sighed. “Believe me, I want to—but I love you and trust you to know what you're doing.”

Inhaling a steadying breath, she headed out of their crated forest back to Reynner. Not by a look did he reveal if he’d heard their conversation. But those indigo eyes skimmed over her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

His gaze became steel. So he did hear them.

It was foolish to hope he wouldn’t. Hurriedly, Eve picked up more clamps and began reassembling the rest of the sculptures. Reynner and Eric worked alongside her.

“That should do it for now,” Eric said a while later. “See you Saturday, Eve. You can check on the final display before showtime.”

“All right.” Eve picked up her bag from one of the crates. “See you then.”

“Reynner.” Eric nodded.

“Eric.”

A hand on her back, Reynner ushered out, startling her at that possessive move as they headed toward the elevator. Eric followed

Stepping away from Reynner, Eve pressed the button then swung around. “Oh, Eric, I meant to ask, did that…” Darn, she didn’t want to ask about this in front of Reynner, but could do little else unless she wanted to scurry back into the warehouse to ask her question. “Did
that
painting sell?”