Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade) Page 8

  Instead of staying still and hidden as she should have, panic forced her to act. She leapt to her feet, spun around, and ran blindly through the forest, her boots thudding noisily on the ground. Branches tripped her, and plants seemed to spring up out of the earth to grab her ankles. She couldn’t even focus enough to ask them to help her instead of hurting her. Her mind was a swirling miasma of terror and memories, screaming at her to run and escape while she still had the chance.

  “Hey!” The man shouted at her, his deep voice booming through the jungle.

  The rich bass of his voice plunged through her flesh and ignited a fire inside her, a relentless infusion of need and longing that made her want to turn and charge right toward him instead of away from him. “Oh, God, no. Not again.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sprinted through the jungle, not even paying attention to where she was going. She couldn’t remember the layout exactly. Her mind was fragmented with fear and terror, just as it had been so long ago when she had run for her life through these very woods. She stumbled over a root and tumbled to the earth, barely getting her hands out in time to cushion her fall. Her crossbow jammed into her jawbone and she gasped as the pain shot through her.

  She hadn’t even finished falling when she was already back up on her feet, stumbling as she tried to keep going. Trees loomed above her on all sides, but the branches were too high for her to reach, and she couldn’t focus enough to ask the trees to help her. Everything she had as a weapon was gone, disintegrated by the fear ripping through her.

  Then she realized there were heavy footsteps thundering after her, getting closer and closer. He was chasing her! She put on another burst of speed, her breath burning her lungs as she fought for air. Her legs were trembling, shaking with exhaustion as she asked her body to do things it hadn’t done in so long.

  She frantically tried to focus enough to take in her surroundings and understand where she was. She couldn’t keep this up. She had to find a way out. She had to—

  A hand closed on her shoulder, and fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her to a stop.

  With his touch, all conscious thought fled from her mind. She grabbed the dagger from where it sat on her hip and spun around, striking as she turned. Her blade hit flesh, plunging deep inside thick muscle before she’d even finished her turn to see who was after her.

  The dark brands on his forearms told her all she needed to know. It was a Calydon, and her dagger was in his heart. She spun the rest of the way around, facing him as he fell.

  “Shit!” The warrior’s dark eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled and went down to his knees.

  Rhiannon ripped her dagger out of his chest and went still, bracing her legs in a ready position as she held the dagger ready. She knew she had to keep moving, but she couldn’t run anymore. Not yet. She needed time to recover. She had nothing left. Her breath heaved in her chest as she desperately tried to get air.

  She saw the blood pouring from his chest, and realized she’d struck a clean blow into the heart. Instinct had shown her where to find a heart on a Calydon, taking into account his height when she’d made her blind strike. Maybe she wasn’t a total loss. Maybe she still had some of her old skills. Maybe she still had a chance to survive.

  She took another deep breath, trying to recover from her run. She knew the respite from his injury wouldn’t last long, but the heart had been a good place to hit.

  He looked up at her as he pressed his palm to the wound on his chest. “Why the hell did you do that?” His voice had the same effect on her as before. It eased through her body like a warm, seductive caress of pure temptation. And now that she could see what he looked like, it was even stronger.

  His eyes were dark brown, flecked with bits of gold. His stare was intense, sinking deep into her very soul as he gazed at her. She felt herself flush under his stare, her body pulsing in response to the heat of his attention. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze, and she was caught in his spell, in his raw masculinity and strength. His cheekbones were sculpted, giving him a regal appearance, despite the heavy growth of whiskers. His disheveled dark hair gave him an aura of danger and lethalness that should have terrified her…but she found herself riveted by him instead.

  His shoulders were broad, but not as broad as José‘s. Unlike José and his men, who wore camouflage pants, lean boots, and sported bare chests as if impersonating some ancient warrior, this Calydon was wearing the garb of civilization. His blue jeans were dirty and torn. His black T-shirt was loose and ragged. He was wearing hiking boots, but they appeared to be heavily insulated as if they were meant for trekking through snow and ice instead of the brutal heat of the jungle. He didn’t look like he belonged to this jungle or to José, but the twin dark brands on his forearms told her all she needed to know.

  He was a Calydon, and that meant he was a threat, no matter how intense her reaction to him was. In fact, he was even more dangerous because of the way she wanted to fall under his spell. Men knew how to take advantage of a woman’s attraction to them. They preyed upon it, twisting it to their advantage. She knew better than to want a man, but her fingers actually twitched with the need to lay her hand over his wound and take away his pain, to feel his flesh beneath her palm, to move closer and lose herself in the incredible strength and power of his being.

  “Yeah…” he said softly, his gaze locked onto hers, as if he were having the same intense reaction to her that she was having to him. “Who are you?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

  “Who am I?” The question jerked her back to the present, to the very real danger he presented. If he’d been sent to find her, his quest would have to end now. Even as she thought it, resistance pulsed through her, and she realized she didn’t want to kill him.

  Grimly, she took a step back as she pulled another arrow out of her quiver. She set it in the bow and aimed it right between his eyes. “What do you want?”

  She needed to know whether he had stumbled across her accidentally, or if José already knew she was here. Then, once she had her answers, she would do her best to kill the man kneeling before her.

  She ignored the stab of regret at the notion of killing him. Sure, he smelled incredible and had eyes that had momentarily melted right through the fear of men that she kept wrapped so tightly around her. That didn’t mean she was going to make the same mistake that had once almost killed her. Never would she trust the wrong man, or any man, again.

  Never.

  He would have to die. There was simply no other option.

  ***

  She was a warrior.

  Zach went still, startled by the sight of this slight woman taking aim at his head. His chest hurt like hell from her clean hit with the dagger, and he could feel weakness sapping the strength from his body as he lost blood he couldn’t afford to lose. He was already down too many pints after all Thano had inflicted upon him, serious wounds he hadn’t taken time to heal completely before heading out.

  By the time he’d left, Thano had been strung up beside Trevor, like a couple of carcasses ready to be butchered, that insidious black webbing locked around his hands. Zach had grabbed several hard biscuits and headed out, moving with an urgency he’d never felt before. He’d left Apollo inside that black vortex in the woods standing guard over Thano. He knew the horse would protect Thano from whatever was outside those torches, but he was pretty damn certain the stallion would be no defense against Rohan if he decided to act, or against that webbing as it took over Thano’s body.

  How much time did he have? Not the five days that Trevor had. Rohan had pointed out that the webbing had already traveled half an inch from where it had begun. He said some poor bastards were more vulnerable to the webbing than others, and it was going to take over Thano fast. Rohan had guessed three days max before he had to take it off and fight Thano to the death or let him die…but it could be less.

  After hearing that grim timetable, Zach had been on his way within five minutes. Irritatingly, he’d gotten lost as
hell within three hours. Frustration and desperation mounting, he’d been in a cold sweat by the time he’d stumbled across this woman sifting through dirt like she owned the damned place.

  And now, she had an arrow aimed very competently at his head, which wasn’t exactly the kind of help he needed. He didn’t move, assessing her quickly, trying to decide whether he needed to attack or whether he could talk her down. Even as he thought it, disquiet rumbled through him at the thought of attacking her.

  He didn’t waste time going all soft and fuzzy on women anymore, but this particular woman called to him in a way he hadn’t allowed in a very long time, making him hesitate before classifying her as the enemy. Her dark hair was in a tight bun, but thick sections had snuck free, curling in damp tendrils around her neck. Her eyebrows were almost black, arched in a seductive curve that smoothed across her high forehead. She wore no makeup or jewelry, with the exception of a red amulet around her neck. Sweat dotted her neck, glistening beads that sparkled along the silver chain of her necklace. Her loose cargo pants hung low around her hips, not hiding the curves or athleticism of her body. Her shoulders were pulled back and her jaw was relaxed as she held her bow steady, the stance of a confident, prepared warrior.

  But her eyes were what captivated him. Like her hair, they were raven black, but they were not the cool, reserved eyes of a warrior. They were turbulent pools of emotion. He could see fear in them, fear so intense that it prickled at his flesh. His sai burned in his arms, not to fight her, but to defend her, to cut down whatever it was that was haunting her so mercilessly.

  That wasn’t even the extent of his reaction to her. Beneath her fear roiled something else, something that affected him on a visceral level, a pulsing sensuality that seemed to call to him…

  The realization hit him like an assault, a realization so devastating that his breath froze in his lungs, trapped by a paralyzing horror. He wanted her.

  Jesus. He didn’t do that anymore. Never. He knew it wasn’t a sheva reaction, because his runes were too strong. He was simply reacting to her as a woman, and that was not okay.

  “Why are you after me?” This time, when she asked the question, she tightened her grip on her bow, readying to unleash the arrow into his skull.

  There was no doubt she was absolutely ready to do her best to kill him, and damned if he didn’t think that was hot as hell. Shit. What was he doing thinking like that? There was no damn way he was ever going down that road again with a woman. He was never tempted anymore. Ever. He had to stay focused. He shook his head once, trying to clear out the jumble of lust and desire fighting for acknowledgment. “I need directions.”

  For a moment, his statement hung out in the air, unacknowledged.

  Finally, she spoke. “Directions?” Disbelief etched every syllable she spoke. “You’re a Calydon warrior, armed and dangerous, in the middle of the jungle. You expect me to believe that you’re breaking every male stereotype and asking for directions?”

  He couldn’t halt his flicker of amusement at her reply. “Yeah, well, I’m not a typical guy, I guess. I need to get somewhere in a hurry, I have no idea where the fuck I am, and I don’t have time to hike to the nearest gas station and buy a map. So, yeah, directions.” He couldn’t keep his gaze from flickering over her body again, but this time, he noted the well-worn boots that were laced halfway up her calves, the perfect fit of cargo pants that had seen many wearings, and the lean muscles of her arms. “And you look like you know your way around here. I don’t suppose you hire out as a guide?” Even as he asked the question, something started to hum inside him, anticipation at the idea of being isolated in the jungle with her and having her on his team. Or maybe it was just that he was so impressed with his idea of hiring a guide who knew what she was doing, and fired up that she might give him a chance to find the fire god before Thano passed the point of no return.

  She didn’t lower the bow, and her eyes narrowed. “Where are you going?” she asked sharply. It was a challenge, not an inquiry.

  “Have you heard of a Calydon named José Vasquez? Some sort of fire god?” Zach didn’t miss the flash of absolute terror across her face, and he saw her shoulders convulse with sudden tension.

  That was all the warning he got before she unleashed the arrow at his head. Swearing, he dove to the right. The arrow skimmed the side of his head, cleaving a small furrow in his flesh. By the time he was on his feet, there was already another arrow in her bow and she was pulling back the string.

  “Hey!” he shouted as he called out his sai with a crack and a flash of black light. “I’m not here to hurt you!”

  Not even hesitating, she released the arrow again. This time, he managed to get behind a tree. Somehow, she had anticipated his move and the arrow seemed to follow him as if it were tracking directly to his heart. It went straight through the trunk of the tree and out the other side. He leapt back as the tip of it emerged out of the wood. It came to a stop with more than eighteen inches of it protruding from the backside of the tree, the tip less than a millimeter from his throat.

  Damn. She was good. He liked that. All the better to have on his team.

  Adrenaline pounded through him as he dove silently to the right, sliding behind a bush as he readied his sai. But when he came up, she was gone.

  He went still, searching with his preternatural senses, trying to find her. There was silence, too much silence. The birds had gone quiet. The animals had stopped moving. Even the wind seemed to have stilled. His skin prickled in awareness and he went down on one knee, poised to attack as he searched the woods around him for the cause of the forest’s reaction.

  There was a heavy weight in the air, the same malevolence that he’d felt the night before around the campfire. He knew without a doubt that the evil wasn’t coming from the woman. She had fought him out of fear and desperation, not out of evil. Something else had joined them in these woods.

  Something that might have been hunting her.

  The thought that this evil had grabbed her made something inside him clench, a gut wrenching tension that actually hurt. His instinct was to leap to his feet and race after her, even though he had no idea which way she’d gone. Instead, he eased up, keeping his mind utterly quiet as he reached out in all directions, searching for the sound, the scent, or the movement that would tell him what he needed to know.

  For a moment, he sensed nothing but the void that the jungle had become. And still he didn’t move. He was too seasoned to react prematurely, and he knew that whatever it was still had to be close by. It would have to move eventually, and then he’d track it.

  After what felt like an eternity of agonizing wait, but was probably less than five seconds, he heard a faint grunt of pain from his right. It was a masculine grunt, the sound of a man. Zach was on the move within a millisecond, sprinting almost silently through the forest as he hurtled toward his prey.

  Chapter 8

  Rhiannon gasped as she was grabbed from behind. This time, it wasn’t simply a hand on her shoulder. This time, she was torn ruthlessly off her feet and jerked backward. She fought for balance as she fell, and then saw who had grabbed her. One of José‘s Calydons. Luther.

  Fear leapt through her, but she didn’t freeze this time, unlike when she’d been attacked in her apartment and been momentarily paralyzed with terror. She felt different in these woods, and old instincts rose fast. She slammed her palm into his throat with as much force as she could summon, even as her other hand went to her hip for her dagger. He let out a grunt of pain as her fingers closed over the hilt of her weapon. She whipped it free and drove it upward—

  He slammed his fist down on the back of her hand, knocking the dagger from her grasp. She lunged for it as it fell toward the earth, but he jerked her back and threw her over his shoulder. She gasped as she landed on his muscular shoulder, his rock-hard body knocking the breath out of her.

  For a moment, all she could do was hang onto him as she fought for air. Her hand was numb where he’d hit it, her
fingers throbbing uselessly.

  That one moment of her recovery was all he needed. His arms locked around her like steel cords, and he broke into a run, sprinting through the jungle, taking her toward José. “Stop, Luther,” she shouted. “Let me go!”

  He didn’t even slow, and he didn’t loosen his grip. Of course he wouldn’t. Luther was as ruthless as the rest of them, almost like an automaton following José‘s orders. There was no humanity in him. No mercy. “I’m not his,” she screamed as she slammed her elbow into the base of his skull. It was the only place she could reach, and he stumbled. She hit him again, and then he grabbed her hair, jerking so hard to the side that her neck felt like it was going to snap in half.

  A scream leaked from her throat, and she grabbed at her hair, trying to stop the pain. Tears pricked her eyes as she fought to stay conscious. And still, he pulled harder, each step he took twisting her body even more painfully. She knew she was going to pass out, or he was going to break her neck, whichever one came first. He wouldn’t let go until he had her at his mercy.

  Tears burned in her eyes, and she summoned self-discipline she hadn’t had to call upon since she’d escaped from José the first time. Willing herself not to feel the pain, she let her hand drop from his, and forced her body to go completely limp. The pain was extraordinary, but she closed her eyes, willing her mind to that place she used to go when she didn’t want to experience what was happening to her. For an excruciating moment, the pain became almost too much to bear, and then suddenly Luther relaxed his grip on her, apparently concluding that she’d passed out.

  He waited another moment, as if to be certain she wasn’t faking it, and then he let go of her hair entirely. Her head flopped back toward where it was supposed to be, mercifully taking the pressure off her neck. She forced herself to stay relaxed, and let her head bounce against his bare back. She felt his sweat against her cheek, and the scent of man seemed to rise all around her. The heat from his body burned through her clothes everywhere she touched him, and she wanted to throw up at the feel of a man’s body against hers. Her instincts were screaming at her to fight, but she knew her only chance to escape was to be patient. She would have one opportunity, and he had to be completely unprepared for her to make a break for it.