Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) (4 page)

“Feel me,” she whispered. “It’s safe now. You’re home. Everything is okay.” She kept whispering, kept stroking his face, her body against his, and suddenly, his screams stopped. The only sound was his panicked breathing, his chest heaving beneath hers, his body still trembling violently.

Relief made tears burn in her eyes, and she kept stroking his face. “It’s all over, Elijah. You’re home. You don’t need to fight anymore.” His heart was pounding against her chest where she was wrapped around him. “Frank’s dead, Elijah. You’re at Dante’s. We’re going to take care of you. It’s over. I promise you’re safe.” She kept repeating the words she’d longed to hear when she’d been held prisoner by Nate for so long. All she’d wanted during that awful time was to feel safe again. Nothing more. Just safe.

When he’d tried to protect her the night of his death, Elijah had given her that for one moment, and if she could pay him back... “You’re safe, Elijah.” She pressed her face to his neck and kept whispering any words of comfort she could come up with, all the things she’d wanted someone to say to her so many times. “I promise.”

There was a huge shudder that nearly shook her off him. Then his body relaxed, sagging back to the steel slab as if he was exhausted beyond what he could endure. “Yes,” she whispered. “Let it go. It’s over.”

She kept herself wrapped around him and continued whispering words of reassurance as she pulled back slightly to look at his face. His head was back at an angle, the strong lines of his jaw evident even in sleep. His dark hair was matted with blood and dirt, but he was still Elijah. He still smelled like dark spices and something erotic, and he still had the black brands of the throwing stars on his forearms.

She held up her arm and compared his brand to the mark on her forearm, her heart tightening when she saw that her marks were an exact match for one of the eight points of his throwing star.

The evidence was unassailable: they’d done the first stage of the bond that would tie them together and destroy them. It had happened when he’d given his life to protect her, a complete stranger at the time. She was his
sheva
, the one woman destined for him...destined to destroy him.

She ran her finger over the dark brand on his forearm. The
sheva
bond was so dangerous to both of them, but it felt so right to be connected to him—

“God, what are you thinking, Ana?” She couldn’t afford those thoughts, not when she was already so broken. Not when he was so broken. There was nothing left inside her that could survive if she opened herself to him, and she knew she was his ultimate destruction, for more reasons than the legacy of the
sheva
destiny.

Her only goal was to help him survive, to atone for what she’d done to him.

That was all she could allow herself.

She pulled her thoughts tighter and forced herself to focus only on Elijah’s damaged state and his need for comfort. Not because he was her mate, but because she owed him. And the first thing she owed him was the freedom he’d been deprived for so long.

She studied the cuffs for a long moment. Did she dare? But she had to do it. She knew that his panic had resulted from being trapped and unable to defend himself. She knew because she’d been there, too. She owed him that freedom. Gideon was wrong to keep him locked down.

Her movement sure and firm, she leaned over and yanked the pin out of the cuff on Elijah’s left wrist. His body shuddered as his arm slid over the edge of the slab, free. Ana quickly released the other arm, gently settling it against his hip so it wouldn’t fall off the metal cot.

She took a shaky breath, realizing how tense she was, waiting for him to attack her now that his arms were free, but he didn’t even move. She brushed Elijah’s matted hair back off his face. His muscles relaxed and she saw the tension ease from the tendons in his neck.

Even in his sleep, he needed comfort and responded to a soft touch. If she could give him any peace, she would do it for as long as he needed it. “I’m going to go find Quinn and let him know you’re waking up, okay?” She laid her hand against his cheek, unable to stop the pulse of worry at leaving him. “You’ll be okay, right?”

Of course he didn’t respond, and the bandages were still leaking with blood, and dozens of gashes on his body were oozing. “Right. You’re a Calydon. These are nothing but scratches to you.” She steeled herself, then climbed off him—

His body went rigid, and he bellowed with terror, his anguish flooding her like a burst of tormented hell—

“Elijah! I’m still here!” She threw herself onto him again. His arms snapped around her instantly, pinning her to him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he convulsed. His grip on her was so tight she could barely breathe, but he wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was clinging to her as if she was all that was keeping him in this world, and she embraced it. “It’s okay, Elijah. Let it go.”

This time it took longer for him to calm, his screams bouncing off the steel endlessly before he finally stilled again, his chest heaving, his muscles trembling, his body slick with perspiration. She nuzzled her face against his throat, tucking herself into the curve of his body. She even tugged up her shirt so her bare belly was against his. The moment her skin was flush with his, his arms slid away from her waist and flopped to the steel bed in sheer and utter capitulation. A soft moan drifted from his lips.

Her throat tightened. “I won’t leave you, I promise, but God, we’re both in so much trouble if the only way you can stay sane is to touch me.” Just the feel of his skin against her belly made hot desire flare deep inside her, pooling low and warm between her thighs.

She knew it was the bond trying to pull them together. It made her understand, for the first time, how truly difficult the bond would be to resist if she remained this up close and personal with Elijah. “I can’t go down that path with you,” she whispered. “I can’t.” For so many reasons.

God, all she wanted was to bury herself against him...
No.
She sat up, and Elijah tensed instantly, the tendons in his neck going rigid.

Grimacing, she snuggled back against him. The chest restraint dug into her breasts, so she unhooked it and tossed it aside. Angry at the world for trying to restrain him, she yanked out the pin from his ankle cuffs, giving him complete freedom. “There,” she said. “You can defend yourself now. It’s all okay.” She laid her cheek against his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed slow and deep. With a sigh, she draped herself over him, his thighs hard beneath hers. His hard,
naked
thighs.

She tried not to think about the intimacy of their position, but as she settled against him, she felt her body beginning to thrum as his exotic scent wrapped around her, his hard body strong and reassuring. She suddenly realized that she felt safe.
Safe.
She never thought she’d feel safe again, but she did...

Safe in the arms of a Calydon so dangerous he was in chains? A male so potent he would eviscerate what was left of her heart if she wasn’t careful? A warrior so deadly that all hopes of survival for the Order were resting on his injured shoulders? A male who had looked at her with such a soul deep hatred when they’d first met that she could still feel the horror in his gaze?

She closed her eyes.

Yes, safe.

She knew it would all change when he woke. She knew she had no right to ask him to protect her, to accept any sacrifice on her behalf. But she wasn’t strong enough to fight her need for what he provided. For now, she would cling to the respite he gave her and pray that it gave her the strength to survive what she knew was coming.

Elijah blinked several times, the movement awkward and jerky, as if his eyelids were rasping painfully over his damaged eyes. Her heart ached at the sight of all those raw scars on his face, as if he’d tried to claw out his own eyes rather than see the hell he’d been facing. Was she responsible for that? Had it been her illusions that he’d tried to defend against by blinding himself?

Tears filled her eyes, tears of guilt, regret and empathy, and she instinctively laid her hand on his cheek. “Oh, Elijah,” she whispered, forgetting to fear him, ignoring all Gideon’s warnings about how Elijah might be so violent and insane when he finally awoke from his coma. “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked again, wincing at the agonizing movement as he tried to see her.

“No, no,” she whispered. “Don’t torment yourself. Here.” She clasped his wrist and placed his palm against her cheek. “See me this way.”

He closed his eyes and let his hand drift across her face. He moved his fingers over her skin, over her cheekbone, her eyelashes, the bridge of her nose, his callused fingers so light against her skin.

Elijah touched her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips. Heat began to swirl inside Ana as he gave a small nod. “Good.” The word came out as a grinding noise, and her heart tightened at the grimace of pain on his face.

But God, to hear his voice again, his real voice, not the whisper in her mind. It burned right to her soul, like the forbidden heat of a sensual danger designed to strip her defenses and possess her completely. She swallowed, suddenly nervous, no longer feeling like a woman trying to protect a man. Instead, she felt like a female being drawn ruthlessly into the spell of the male destined to consume her. “Elijah—”

His arm snaked around her, trapping her as he pulled her down against him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck with a deep groan of contentment that made desire pulse through her relentlessly.

Ana froze as he inhaled deeply, and she knew he was examining her scent, memorizing every detail about her body. “It’s me,” she whispered. “You know me.”

He blew out, his lips feathering her neck with heat.

Her skin felt like it was on fire. She became aware of his scent, the raw, fierce pulse of danger and death, mixed with something softer. Vulnerability. Fear. Desperation. Dear God, his suffering was so intense, filling her with the agony of his despair, of his confusion. Had she done that to him? Was all of that her fault? How much worse would she make it if she stayed with him, if he realized who she was? “This really isn’t a good idea.” She set her hands on his shoulders and gently tried to push him away. “It’s the
sheva
bond making you want me. You actually hate—” She stumbled over the words, regret thick and bitter. “You hate me, Elijah. As soon as your mind settles again, you’ll remember.”

His hands snapped to her hips, trapping her against him. “Mine,” he growled. His eyes were still closed, unable to defeat the pain of the scar tissue, but his hands were burning over her, as if he were stripping her clothes off and branding her with every touch.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Don’t pull me into this. I don’t have many defenses left.” Her heart had bled for this man so many times, and now he held her like she was his salvation, his anchor, the only thing he had to hold onto.

She’d already seen the way he looked at her, with pure revulsion for who she was and what she’d done to him. She knew it would come again the moment he regained his senses. She couldn’t let herself fall into his touch, into his need, and then survive it when he took it away from her. He wouldn’t survive it either, being sucked into her nightmare. “We can’t lie to each other,” she whispered as she grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him. “This isn’t real. Please, don’t do this to me. To us.”

“Real,” he whispered, sliding his hands beneath her shirt, flattening one palm over her belly. “You’re not real?” His voice cracked, and he gripped her sides with sudden intensity. “You have to be real—”

“I am, I am,” she soothed quickly. “You’re not having illusions. I’m right here.” She knew he’d been tormented by illusions. He’d been thrust mercilessly into the world of uncertainty, unable to know what nightmares were real, and which were fake. Men had died from the insanity the illusions caused, from the inability to know truth from delusion, and she knew Elijah’s greatest tool right now was reality. She couldn’t take that away from him. “I’m not your imagination,” she said.

Elijah opened his eyes again, straining to see her, but there was no recognition in those scarred eyes. “I can’t see you,” he croaked. “You’re not real—”

“I am!” Ana grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Feel my touch,” she ordered. “Hear my voice. I’m here, dammit! You’re not being messed with anymore!”

“You’re real?” His voice softened with awe and disbelief. “This is you?” He ran his hands over her stomach, her ribs, and desire leapt through her.

Ana leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her body trembling at the sensation of his hands on her. God, how long had it been since a man’s hands had touched her with kindness? Not just kindness. Reverence. Adoration. Callused hands that would never hurt her, no matter what she did. Hands that would wrap around her at night and keep her safe. Strong, masculine hands that would seduce her until she was his, forever…