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Authors: Claire Ashgrove

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Gothic, #Paranormal

Immortal Surrender (21 page)

BOOK: Immortal Surrender
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The Sudarium. Noelle knew it in an instant. Mikhail had discovered her bag was empty. She bolted upright and fidgeted with the blankets as Farran gathered his belongings. “Farran, I need to talk to you.”

“’Twill wait. We should have risen earlier.”

“But—”

He glanced over his shoulder with a shake of his head. “Nay, damsel. There is not time.”

If it was the Sudarium, she didn’t intend to wait. She had to get out of here before someone tried to tie her up and stuff her down in that stone maze because she’d duped them all. Legitimate relic or not, they believed in it. She needed to get Farran on the path of returning it—and her—before he sided with his friends.

“Let me go with you then.” At least that way, she could plead her case before someone sentenced her.

“Nay, you were not summoned.” He stuffed his feet into his boots and adjusted his jeans.

On a wince, she groaned silently. This wouldn’t end well for her—she could feel it in her bones. Kiss or no kiss, by the time Farran returned, whatever had softened inside him would be as hard as coal. The truce they’d established last night would disappear. And she’d lose complete control of her fate.

A finality she couldn’t allow to happen. “Farran, wait. Listen to me. You just … we just … I can’t…” She floundered, then settled on, “We have to talk.”

In the doorway, he paused to give her a backward glance. It was then she noticed he’d removed her bandages. Unbelievably, the ripped skin beneath pulled into a neat pink line. What the …

For a moment, a smile caught the corner of Farran’s mouth, before it faded into passive nonchalance. “You have my apologies, Noelle. I swore you had no cause to concern yourself with my advances, and I broke my word. Rest assured, ’twas only a product of waking to find a woman in my bed. The kiss would have happened were it you or any other maid.”

His words cut through her like knives. Sliced to the very core of her being, she recoiled. Lifting a hand to her mouth, she covered a gasp. Nothing. The kiss had meant nothing. While it had given her soul wings, to him it was little more than instinct. Testosterone overload.

Tears welled as he gave her his back and strode to the door. His steps held no hesitation, no indication his words were anything but truth. The proud lift of his shoulders, the way he didn’t lift his eyes to so much as glance at her as he put on his sword belt, confirmed the harsh reality.

She knew men were capable of intimate acts without the involvement of emotions. Science proved that time and again. They lacked the branching networks in their brains to link everything together. But how a man could kiss with so much feeling and remain indifferent, she couldn’t comprehend.

When the door closed with a firm
thump,
her tears broke free. Hating herself for caring, for
allowing
him to wound her so easily, she grabbed the pillow and clutched it tight. She knew where she stood. Knew he found her unacceptable. And damn it all, he was crazy—she shouldn’t be this affected.

Still, she wept, as she had so many times before. Just once, she’d like to be desirable, to wield the power so many other women possessed. Even if her target needed psychiatric help, she’d like to hold the upper hand and the ability to bring a man to his knees because he found her irresistible. Dr. Martin, the forensic anthropologist who worked next door to Noelle’s lab, could wag a finger and men fell at her feet.

Scat Cat leapt to comfort her by cleaning his teeth on Noelle’s jeans-covered knee. On a watery sniffle, she lifted her head and dragged her fingers through his fur. “Scat, I want to go home,” she whispered.

As if he agreed, he lifted golden eyes to give her a
mrrph
.

A shudder drifted through her as she met his unblinking gaze. What Scat Cat and she wanted didn’t matter. In a few hours, maybe less, she’d find herself prisoner, and she had no doubts that Farran would make good on his promise to tie her up.

Possessed by the thought and her imagination’s vivid illustrations of some dark dungeon amid the corridors below, she pushed Scat Cat aside and leapt off the bed to race to the dresser.

She had to leave. Before she couldn’t.

As she yanked open a drawer and grabbed for a pair of clean jeans, pressure on her left bicep sent pain arcing down her arm. With a strangled cry, she clutched at the torc, attempting to pry it loose. Yet the more she pushed, the more fingers she tried to stuff between the band of bronze and her skin, the more the pressure intensified. Like hot coals pressed to her skin, heat inflamed her arm and scalded through her veins.

Unable to bear the torment, she dropped to her knees and doubled over with an agonized groan. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. She fought for the ability to breathe. Distantly, the memory of Farran’s words rose.

The torc recognizes you.

Twill use whatever means necessary to ensure you assume your place.

*   *   *

At the bottom of the stairs, where the cool air could temper his heated blood, Farran set a hand on the thick stone and let the myriad of sensations flow through him. He had wounded Noelle, aye. A blind man could have read the hurt reflected in her eyes. He had not meant to. Had pulled the only words he could find to mask the way his insides quivered. She had wanted to discuss their circumstance, and he did not possess the answers.

He lifted a hand to inspect the wound near his temple. It had healed … overmuch. With his soul so tainted, it should have seen the passing of a good three days before it began to scar. But this, like the flesh upon his chest he had glimpsed whilst he dressed, was undeniable. Could she have contributed to the healing?

He shook his head. She threatened all he understood. Ignited hopes experience told him were a fool’s pursuit. Moments ago, he had yearned for nothing more than to lose himself within her embrace. He could have so easily forgotten his purpose lay in obtaining her oath. So easily discarded all but the physical pleasure.

And that fact alone terrified him more than any shade, nytym, or demon Azazel spawned. Noelle could make him vulnerable. Could turn him weak. With this accursed immortality, he dared not chance she might tear open the scars on his soul and make him bleed again. One betrayal he had survived. Another, he would wish for death—a fate duty to the Order forbade him.

Nay, the only course he could choose was the one he first assumed. He must obtain her oath, then take his leave. Before she could push him into senselessness.

He steeled himself against the twist of anguish that accompanied his resolution and strode down the darkened hall. It mattered not how much he craved her kiss, he would serve his purpose better without the worry she created. And once she said the oath, he need not worry about her safety—immortality would claim her as well.

With the light of angels in her soul, not even a Templar blade could take her life.

He pushed open Mikhail’s door to find Merrick, Declan, Lucan, and Caradoc assembled inside. Added to his familiar band of brothers, he found Anne perched in a nearby chair, worrying her fingers in her lap. A frown tugged at his brow on seeing her, and he lifted an inquisitive gaze to Mikhail. “You summoned me?”

“Aye, we have waited all morn for you to decide to wake,” Merrick teased. “’Tis high time you climbed out of bed.”

Mikhail gave Merrick a scowl meant to scold, but humor crinkled the corners of his eyes, spoiling the effect. He openly displayed his smile. “Have you succeeded in obtaining her oath?”

“I am making progress.” Farran choked back a snort. If indeed insulting her counted as progress, he had no doubt when he returned she would offer her vow willingly. Quite likely, he would find himself spending the rest of the afternoon trying to persuade her.

Mikhail looked unconvinced. “I will take that as a nay.”

Uncomfortable, Farran shifted his weight and searched for a chair. Spying none, he assumed a position against the wall. Ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest, he waited for the reason of their assembly.

Anne slid out of her chair to stand before the men. With a hesitant glance over her shoulder, she sought Mikhail’s permission. He granted it with a short nod. For several long heartbeats, she stared at her hands. Then, lifting her head, she fixed her sky-blue gaze on Farran.

Apprehension raised the hairs at the nape of his neck. Meaning filled her stare, a silent message full of warning. He jerked off the wall as her voice filled the small chamber.

“I’ve seen Noelle’s death.”

 

CHAPTER 19

Silence engulfed the room as the men waited for Anne to continue. Farran’s pulse thumped dull and heavy, trumpeting the anxiety that rushed through his veins. He glanced at his brothers’ faces, searching for some sign of disbelief, another who might give him reason to believe the seer spoke falsely. His heart drummed heavily when he found only shock on all but Merrick’s. In their commander’s expression, Farran read concerned acceptance.

In one heavy blow, Farran understood the gravity of his circumstances. He could not abandon Noelle when her life depended on his protection. No matter how he longed to separate himself from the confusing feelings she stirred, he could not leave her defenseless. She was his seraph. His responsibility. Until she took her oath, he could not entrust her fate to anyone else. Most especially now that the evil presences that had gathered beyond the temple’s gates.

Elation blended with despair and turned his insides into nonsensical mush. He could not stay with her, yet he could not leave. To garner her oath faster, he must stay. To protect himself, he must leave. Damnation! Gabriel could not present him with a more intolerable situation. He had asked for naught of this.

“I saw only a brief flash.” Anne’s voice quavered. Her eyes darted between them all, refusing to settle on Farran. She breathed deeply, and her words came out in a rush. “She’ll die at the hands of a dark knight. She’s not afraid of this death, which leads me to believe she knows him.”

For the smallest fraction of time, her gaze paused on Farran. He stiffened in defense, but before he could determine whether accusation glinted in her eyes, she looked away. The gesture, however, was not lost on Lucan.

Bolting forward in his wooden chair, he thrust an accusing finger at Farran. “You will kill her.”

Fury launched through Farran with a catapult’s ferocity. He lunged at Lucan, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Naught would make him harm a woman. He would take his own life before the darkness in his soul could drive him to such actions. “You speak your own death sentence.”

Lucan met his advance by leaping to his feet. “Nay, I do not. You will fail to obtain her oath, and you will kill the seraph!”

Caradoc stayed Farran’s arm before he could draw his blade. One angry jerk halted Farran in his tracks. With his free hand, Caradoc twisted Farran’s arms behind his back and restrained him. Wanting naught else but to strangle Lucan for the insult on his honor, Farran twisted in outrage. His glare held Lucan’s in open contempt.

As Lucan took another step toward Farran and opened his mouth to hurl another vile accusation, Merrick grabbed him by the collar. He hauled Lucan backward, separating the two men.

“Enough!” Mikhail’s voice bit through the crackling tension. “You serve naught by fighting amongst yourselves.”

Farran glowered at Mikhail. “His tongue begs punishment.”

“Does it?” Mikhail’s voice rose with authority. “Who amongst us knows the precise moment the change will come over them? Even I cannot say. It could be a knight, a demon, an insignificant shade. You cannot guarantee you will not kill her.” His eyes pulled to Lucan, and he added in a softer, more meaningful tone, “Nor can Lucan be certain she will die at your hands.”

Farran struggled for freedom, lurching forward against Caradoc’s imprisoning hold. But his brother’s arms held fast, refusing to grant him an inch of release.

“Declan,” Mikhail addressed the silent Scot. “You keep your thoughts unto yourself. What say you to this?”

Declan pushed a hand through his auburn hair and rubbed a knuckle under his chin. “Given we canna ken her fate for certain, seems to me the guard you ordered upon her discovery should be enforced.”

“Aye,” Caradoc agreed from behind Farran. “We have neglected it with Farran at her side. ’Twould only be smart to return to it.”

The idea of posting a guard outside his chambers struck Farran like a hammer to his knuckles. He would not have his brothers, not even Caradoc, overhearing what occurred between him and Noelle. He jerked against Caradoc’s hold and barked out, “Nay!”

His reaction surprised even him. Shocked at the first thought that raced through his mind, he fell into silence. Why should it matter? He certainly did not intend to revisit another instance of this morning. All the guards would hear would be an occasional argument, mayhap his snores from the couch.

“Sir knight, calm yourself,” Mikhail instructed. “None here seek to offend you. ’Tis only the seraph’s safety we consider. Use your head.”

Use his head. Aye, he could do with a good dose of logic. If only he could find it through the ridiculousness that haunted him after the taste of Noelle’s sweet mouth. Saints’ blood, he felt like a madman, best served by being locked in a forgotten dungeon.

He pulled in a deep breath and ordered his thoughts to behave. Noelle’s safety was all that mattered. Had she been Lucan’s, or any other man’s, he would have uttered the same as Caradoc.

“Och! The lass should be told of her fate,” Declan continued. “She canna resist an oath if she kens about her death.”

A chorus of agreeing murmurs and nodding heads followed Declan’s suggestion. Farran twisted a shoulder and freed himself from Caradoc’s grasp. He shook his head in violent protest. Careful to keep his tone even, he argued, “You may have your guards, but you may not tell Noelle.”

“All the more reason to believe—”

Before Lucan could finish the thought, Mikhail lifted a hand to order silence. He turned to Farran with lifted brows. “Nay? You do not think she would benefit from understanding the risk?”

BOOK: Immortal Surrender
13.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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