Darkness Undone (12 page)

“No.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Let’s get it over with.”

***

As twilight stole into the city, Reynner followed Eve into her fourth-floor apartment. And felt like he’d stepped into an orchard.

A hint of her peach scent drifted through the place and stroked his senses. His body wired hard since last night, he’d found it difficult to clamp down on needs that refused to settle, and now, alone in her home, it was damn near impossible.

She’s here for one purpose only—to help our realm.
Aerén’s words chimed like an unwanted omen in his head. With centuries of practice locking down his emotions, he managed to get his mind back on track.

Eve disappeared into her room.

Reynner turned and took in the open space. Brightly painted sketches, mounted in black, lined one wall. Colorful Navajo throws in shades of blue, orange, and gray cheered up the ancient brown couch and armchairs. A circular glass-top dining table situated opposite the counter separated the galley kitchen from the rest of the place.

Supernatural beings couldn’t come into a human home uninvited, but still. He went back to the front door, and with an intricate movement of his hands, he weaved the wards, whispering the enchanted words as he put up a protection shield. Invisible to the human eye, he could feel its magic flow over the apartment.

Eve would be safe as long as she didn't invite the fuckers inside.

Satisfied, he made his way across the room to the few pieces of metal sculpture Eve had displayed on a small bookcase crammed with paperback novels. But a photo in a copper frame caught his attention. Picking it up, he studied the couple posing in front of the souks of…Morocco. He’d been there and knew the place well.

“That’s my parents. I dangle between both worlds,” Eve said, coming back into the room.

He could see that. Her mixed-race heritage was visible in her skin that was a lighter shade of her mother’s aged gold, but she’d inherited her dark green eyes from her father. However, instead of the tall, robust build of her father, or her mother’s curviness, Eve appeared fragile, delicate.

Reynner looked up. His heart tripped. Eve had reached across the counter and was plugging in her cell to recharge. Her top shifted, revealing a hand-span of gorgeous tan skin.

He wanted to walk over, slide his palms on her bare skin while he ran his lips down every inch of her…

“My dad was an archaeologist,” she said, oblivious to just how close to the edge he was. “He met Mom while on a dig in Morocco, fell in love, and married her.”

Hell, he never should have tasted her, now it was all he could think of—

His jaw hardening, he forced his mind off dangerous needs. Setting the frame aside, he picked up the metal sculpture of a horse rearing up on its hind legs. The untamed wildness, the energy of the animal captured in the metal molding was exquisite…and full of life, just like the artist.

His gaze drifted back to her. “Where do you craft these?”

She’d opened a plastic container and was scooping up something in her hand. “I have a studio in a warehouse down the street next to this building.”

“You have a rare gift.”

She cast him a surprised look as if praise were the last thing she’d expected. “Thanks. That’s just something I did for myself. You can have it if you’d like.”

He stared at the sculpture. Her generosity touched something deep inside of him. It took Reynner a moment to collect himself. Usually, gifts always came with a price tag—namely him.

“Eve?” He waited until she looked at him. “Don’t ever invite anyone you don’t know into your home. No immortal can enter without an invitation. But I put up a protection ward, too. An added precaution.”

She blinked, then nodded. “Oh… Okay. The only ones who come here anyway are my friends.” She shut the container and disappeared from sight.

Following the sound of her voice, the horse gripped tightly in his hand, he found her kneeling on the kitchen floor. A shoebox with one side cut out was layered with…straw? Fresh breadcrumbs were scattered in a corner.

“Hey there, little guy. I'm sorry I wasn’t here,” she said softly, caressing the bird’s wing with a gentle finger dusted with crumbs.

And his cock hardened again, the same way it had this morning when Eve had stroked his wing. She’d had no idea what she’d done. He’d been moments from taking her right there in the air. Her tender touch had diminished the nightmares that usually sprung up when anyone touched his wings. But Eve, with her innocence and gentleness, had made him forget, even if it was for a brief moment.

He set the horse on the counter and crouched beside her, his leathers creaking.

“He won’t fly,” she told him, “and he doesn’t seem to be hurt—” She broke off when he reached for the bird and eyed him with concern.

Did she think he’d hurt her pet or tackle her to the floor with the bird as witness?

Reynner picked up the dove and scanned it, then zoomed in on the injury. He let his power flow out of him to heal the hairline fracture he found in the fragile skeleton of its wing. The silvery blue light coalesced into the wound, and, moments later, the bird flew out of his palm, a flutter of wings filling the apartment.

A startled laugh escaped Eve. “What did you do?”

“He had a small crack in his humerus bone. It affects the flight muscle, it’s why he became grounded.”

“I didn’t know. I thought he liked staying with me. Thank you.”

He saw the guilt on her face. She’d grown attached to the avian. “No one could have known,” he reassured her, then added softly, “You have to let him go, Eve.”

Her mouth opened as if to protest, then closed. She nodded. Rising to her feet, she walked over to where the bird settled on the low wooden beam of the ceiling and tried to coax him down.

Reynner followed her. “Eve, it’s safer if you step away.” She wouldn’t like what would happen standing under a perched bird.

“Why?” She frowned at him, looked back at the creature and enchanting color surged across her face. Hastily, she backed away, a wry curve to her lips. “Right.”

Her smile beckoned him like a flame. He could feel his control cracking. Shit, too risky, he had to get out of here. He lifted his hand and willed the bird to him. It swooped down to grasp his finger with its tiny talons. Reynner headed for the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.” He heard her light footsteps hurrying after him. “What about the scroll? Aren’t we supposed to stake out the museum or something?”

He turned, bird cupped in his hands. “You’re not staking out anything. I’ll do the legwork, get you in, you take the scroll, and that’s it.”

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You tried to take it before, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we attempted to, but when one like us touches it, it disappears. We let it be, but kept track of it over the centuries.”

“And if it doesn’t respond to me?”

“So easy you forget why it will: your blood.”

At his brusque tone, her mouth tightened. She lowered her gaze to the bird. “I’ll take him.”

Gently, she scooped the bird from him, her fingers brushing his. He jerked back—felt like a thousand volts had hit him hard in the chest. Her gaze flickered to his, hurt crossing her face. If she only knew the sad bloody truth—it had nothing to do with her damn scars—he could barely be close to her, without wanting to touch her.

“I’ll see you later. I have to pick up my car.” He strode out, the door banging shut behind him.

Outside the apartment, Reynner dematerialized to the backstreet where the car he’d acquired on the day he went to the gallery was parked—still safe with the protection spell he’d cast on it, which had been more for Eve’s safety.

He dragged in a deep breath and tried to get his aroused body to calm down. He leaned against the grimy building and hoped a couple of demoniis would troll his way.

He needed a godsdamn fight, needed to work off his frustration.

Shoving his hands into his pocket, his fingers brushed against a piece of metal. He drew it out and ran his thumb around Eve’s earring. The essence of her imprinted on the gold loop seeped into him… The taste of her branded in his memory…her hands clamped in his hair while he had his mouth on her...

Hunger, raw and wild took hold. His fingers tightened around the earring—his jaw clenched so hard, it was a miracle his molars didn't crack.

He dropped the earring back in his pocket.
She’s off limits.

His was a soul trapped in endless darkness, not something any sane person would want to take on. Besides, he’d never trust a female enough to even try. He’d rather cut off his balls first.

A sudden spike of familiar pain spread from his chest and he gnashed down on his teeth. Godsdamn Inanna, she was back to her fucking stunts.

Pulling in a harsh breath, Reynner tried to ride out the shitstorm just as an odd vibe brushed his psyche. He scanned his surroundings. No sulfur, definitely not demoniis or humans, so who the fuck was following him?

Lowering his shields, Reynner tracked on the psychic plane. That strange sensation swept through him again, one he couldn’t quite place. He pushed off from the wall and headed out of the alley. In a flash, Reynner disappeared into a recessed doorway and dematerialized. And took form in front of his stalker with the white-tipped mohawk.

“Dark—
shit
!” Reynner’s voice dried off. His gut churned. Only those emotionless bastards would dare to look him in the eyes and not care that he could kill them. And he was so in the mood for an all-out fight.

“Guess that makes you
light
…shit?” the male drawled.

“Why the fuck are you on my ass,” Reynner snapped.

“I don’t roll that way. But if you're willing—” He struck, head-butting Reynner. Stars exploded behind his eyelids.

Reynner lashed out and landed a solid blow to the Darkrean’s belly. He crashed into the building with a hollow thud, cursing. Not so emotionless, after all. Grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, Reynner drew out his dagger. He flipped the blade in the air, caught the hilt, and pressed the edge against the Darkrean’s throat. It meant little to him to end this asshole’s life, but for the fact the Darkreans would be on his ass for killing one of their own. And he wanted answers. He scanned the icicle in his grip for information. But their damn shields were just as strong as an Empyrean’s.

“What are you doing here, on this realm?” Like he didn’t know.

His expression guileless, Mohawk panted, “Mortal females are way too tempting—”

“You don’t want to fuck with me, Darkrean.”

A sly smirk rode the male’s face. “Let me make this real easy for you, since you seem to have lost your rational mind being away from Empyrea so long. What you have, we want. The foretold one.”

“Not happening.” Icy, thread-like fingers slithered into Reynner’s head. At the psychic intrusion, he snarled.

Mohawk laughed. “I know her face.”

Fury pouring off Reynner, he smashed Mohawk in the face with a power-driven fist. The Darkrean’s head hit the wall behind him with a resounding crack, and he slid to the ground, lights out.

Reynner stepped back, breathing hard, his fingers clenched.

Did the bastard really think he’d just hand Eve over? He’d kill the emotionless fucker first. No one touched what was his.

And she sure as hell was, even if he couldn’t claim her!

Once healed, the bird wouldn’t settle, it flew all over her apartment, causing a ruckus.

Reynner was right, she had to set the dove free. The moment she opened the window, sensing freedom, it flew off.

A little despondent and unable to relax, Eve headed for her studio in the short, dead-end alley next to her building. The heavy heat almost suffocated her. Fitting for the mood she was in. Three hours had passed, and Reynner hadn't come back.

He doesn’t need a keeper, Eve.

How could she forget? Her fingers tightened around her can of Fanta.
He’d made it clear he wanted nothing from her. He didn’t need anyone, it seemed, only her help in committing a felony. She had to stop thinking about him. His time here, with her, was momentary.

Eve turned into the narrow street and stopped farther down at a worn, brick building. The shrubs in the ceramic pots she’d arranged near the entrance to her studio detracted from the dinginess. She unlocked the door and disarmed the security system. A flick of the switch and bright lights flooded the interior of her workplace, revealing the madness—or her “artistic creativeness,” as she called it.

An eclectic mix of everything metallic inhabited her studio. Shelves set against rough brick walls held her inventory of metals and sheets.

Several of her finished works stood on the far side. The familiar acrid odor of soldered metal combined with the earthy smell of timber drifted to her. She headed for her worktable, skirting an enormous skein of fine copper wire lying on the floor, and left her Fanta, keys, and cell phone on the wooden surface.

Crossing to the life-size sculpture she was almost done with, she studied the figure. Ribbons of metal in various shades interwove with each other, emphasizing the man’s muscular physique, caught in the middle of swinging a sword. The guy, it seemed, loved swords. It was a commissioned piece for Brenna’s friend, who wanted to gift her husband with something unusual for their ten-month anniversary.

It made Eve realize just how empty her life was. Why did she have to meet the one man she wanted, who was so far out of her reach in every possible way?

She pulled back her hair and bunched it into a haphazard ponytail. Her cell went off.
Like a Virgin
erupted in the quiet like a bad omen.

God, she really hated the tune. She snatched her cell, answered. “Hel—”

“Dammit, Eve, next time answer your darn phone,” Kataya’s annoyed voice blasted her ear. “At least let us know you're alive.”

Guilt flooded Eve. Of course, her friends would be concerned and want to hear how it all went. She’d seen their missed calls, but couldn’t bear to talk about what had happened. She’d rather eat a tub of slimy snails.

“I’m sorry, Kat. I meant to call, but I got stuck in my work and time just got away from me.”

“You’re telling me you left with the hunk and nothing happened? Yeah, right,” she said, disbelief rampant in her tone. “Now spill. Gimme the deets. What happened during the weekend?”

The weekend? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Nothing much,” Eve evaded. “We spoke, and he dropped me off at home—”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Kataya exploded, making her wince.

“No. Or I would have called you earlier,” Eve fibbed. But her mind flashed to him pinning her against the wall in his bedroom and heat licked through her veins—she struggled to shut off the thought. “I was busy, Kat. You know I have a show coming up.”

“Oh…” A defeated sigh. “Just as well, then. David’s probably a better bet anyway.”

“Look, I have to go. So much to do. Talk to you soon.” Eve hung up, tossed her cell back on the table, and scrubbed her face with her hands.

God, David—she had a date with him. After Reynner, she couldn’t think of anyone else.

Work. She needed to work. It was the one area of her life she could actually lose herself in and forget for a while.

She switched on the CD player that stayed on a shelf. And as heavy rock music took over the silence, Eve pulled out the materials she needed to finish the final piece for her show; the reclining nude Brenna had posed for. She gathered the rusty, scrapyard chains she required and set them nearby then started to screw on several lengths of rusty links, depicting Brenna’s bobbed hair.

A while later, she stepped back and surveyed the sculpture. Strips of metal and skeins of wire intertwining made up the body. Grueling work, but she liked the eye-catching results.

Finally. All her pieces were ready for her show. She’d so much invested in this. Before she started panicking at just
how
much, she dragged out a wooden pedestal and started on a new project.

But thoughts of him took hold once more, possessed her, like she was under some spell. Memories haunted her of being trapped by his warm body, his mouth…

The sudden silence jolted her back to her surroundings.

“Eve?”

At the sound of his voice, she squeezed her eyes tight because she’d been locked in thoughts best forgotten. Spine stiff, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Where’s your cell?” Reynner asked, his voice even, but his features appeared molded in stone as he moved away from the CD player he’d switched off.

“Table.”

He picked up her phone, and his fingers flew across the display as he entered something into it.

“How did you find me?”

“You said you had a place here. When you didn’t answer at your apartment, I was concerned. Next time, Eve, don’t leave without me. You have my number now. Use it.” He set the phone back on the table.

He’d been worried about her?

Only because you have to find the artifact for him.

She yanked a twisted piece of metal free from the sculpture and tossed it aside. “I had work to do. Besides, I'm not used to anyone keeping track of my whereabouts.”

“That was before. Now, I expect to know.”

At the undercurrent of steel in his tone, Eve opened her mouth to inform him just what she thought of that idea, and bumped into his unyielding gaze. She swallowed her irritation. “Well, I can't oblige you, I'm an artist, inspiration strikes at any time.”

“Dammit, Eve—”

“How did you get in?” she cut him off.

“I don’t need a key to do so,” he muttered. Picking up her soda, he drank some.

While sugar would probably sweeten his mood, Eve had to force her gaze away from his lips, aware of what that mouth of his could do.

“What are you working on?”

She studied her new project. The pieces of metal fused together depicted nothing but a clutter of snaking strips at the moment. “A sculpture.”

She rose from the bench she’d been seated on. With her foot, she pushed the loose metal aside.

“I can see that. What is it going to be? Bird, tree—”

“A man,” she said abruptly.

Silence. “Who?”

“A…friend.”

“I see…”

Her gaze flashed to him. But those dark eyes had settled on the nude sculpture of Brenna. “Do your subjects pose for you?”

Why was he pushing this? “Yes. What’s with the twenty questions, Reynner?”

He sauntered over. Stopping an inch from her, his cool gaze met hers. “He only comes when I am here.”

She scowled. “Let’s get one thing straight. You're here for one reason only, and that’s to find your artifact. When it comes to
my
life—
my
work, it’s off limits!”

She spun away in frustration. God, he made her so mad. All his little rules, one would think he was jealous. But she knew better. He just didn’t want her distracted until she found his precious Stone!

“You’re angry.”

“You think?” She swung back, snatched her soda from him. “Shouldn’t you go home? You’ll want to be well rested before the big B&E.”

He shrugged off her snarky comment about breaking and entering to say, “I'm staying here with you.”

Eve choked on her drink she just sipped. Coughing, she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and glared at him. “No, you’re not. Exilum is just a portal away from this world. You even don’t have clothes here.”

He cut her a bland look. “That’s covered. Izzeri will bring my things over later. Until this is over, I will remain with you. For your own safety.”

“My safety? Who’d want to harm me?” The only hazardous thing in this entire venture, besides ruining her untarnished reputation, was getting her heart broken. And she had a feeling she was already on the path leading to heartache.

“We have enemies, Eve. Dangerous ones.”

“Who?”

“Darkreans. I came across one of them following me this evening. Bastard got your image from my mind. I won't leave you unprotected.”

“So
you
put me danger?”

His expression darkened. “You are the foretold one. If I hadn’t found you first, they would have.”

Eve pressed a hand to her tummy, a thread of fear slithering through her.

Reynner slid a warm, calloused palm on her nape and gently kneaded the tension there with his fingers. His gaze held hers in promise. “I will keep you safe.”

The sheer magnetism of him constricted her chest. With Reynner living in her apartment, how was she to pretend he was just another person—when he was all she wanted?

Breaking away from his hold, Eve picked up her keys, pushed her cell into her sweats pocket and headed for the door. Right now, distance was safer. “I'm done for the night.”

After she’d locked up her studio, they walked up the alley. Reynner said, “And just so you know, we’re
taking
the scroll. Not stealing it.”

“Not where the museum is concerned,” she retorted. “In their minds, it belongs to them. And what are the plans for this heist? All thieves have something concocted. If I'm to become one, I demand to know the details. I won’t walk in blindly.”

“Why are you being difficult?” His voice held a note of impatience. “We’re not stealing the damn thing. It did once belong to us. When the Stone vanished, the scroll disappeared from the mage’s tower only to resurface several centuries ago in this world.”

She cut him a curious glance…then understanding dawned. “And you’ve been keeping track of it all this time.”

A terse nod, even though it wasn't a question. “It remained in the Louvre. Except for the odd times it’s been on loan to other institutes. Now, it’s on exhibit here as part of the Ancient Artifact collection. Tomorrow night, we’ll get it.”

“I remember reading about the exhibition. No—” She halted beneath a streetlight. “Tell me you're not planning to steal the thing while it’s still on exhibit?”

***

“No. The exhibition ended today.” Reynner dragged in a deep breath, then another, and concentrated on Eve.

The flare of pain on his left pec felt like he was being doused in acid. It had been growing steadily ever since he’d fought the Darkrean. Damn Inanna!

When he could speak again, he said, “The scroll will go into storage, ready for shipping. It’s safer to get into the storerooms than the main museum.”

“Good.”

At the sudden chagrined expression on her face when she realized what she’d just said, amusement tugged at his lips. She glowered like a riled kitten. “My life’s truly screwed now. I have just agreed to your insane idea.” She stomped off.

By the heavens, pissed off or not, everything about her drew him in like a magnet. One he had little resistance against. He pushed his hands into his pockets and caught up with her.

As they turned up the street toward her apartment, he asked the question that had been on his mind since the demonii attack. “The night after we left the gallery, you told your friends you felt nothing for me?”

Her embarrassment enclosed him like a thick cloud. “You heard me?”

“Eve, I'm immortal. Heightened senses are a given. What did you mean by that,
not feeling anything
?”

She cut him a wary look. “Just that when I touched you that first time, I wasn't drawn into your mind and thoughts. I sensed nothing. No emotions, no pain, for the first time ever.”

“So you’ve never touched anyone since you received that power?”

“It’s a curse,” she said, her expression dimming. “I can't touch the people I love. Dating is a disaster, so I rarely did, until Da—” She broke off. Delicate color rushed across her face. He could see her blush clearly, even with just the moonlight.

“Until the artist,” he finished.

“Yes, until David,” she agreed.

Reynner reined in the urge to go after the male and shake him ‘til his teeth rattled. He’d told Eve in Exilum not to look at him for more, so he had no right to interfere. No cause to be angry. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The pain on his pec intensified, and he welcomed it this time. It was damn good incentive to get his mind off Eve.

Once back in the apartment, Eve dropped her things on the dining table and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't said much to him, except to ask him if he was hungry. He wasn't, but sheer perverseness made him say yes. And forced her to remain with him.