Darkness Undone (14 page)

However, the sight of her tensed body pushed aside his irritation. He stopped beside her, and the desire to ease her fears, to soothe, took over. He stroked her back. “You have a good eye,” he murmured. “And an extraordinary gift with crafting metals.”

“Thank you.” Then she said in a quieter tone, “I’ve put everything I have into this. If it fails…”

“Eve—”

“Ignore me.” She raked a restless hand through her hair and leaned into his touch. “It’s just nerves. Once the show’s over, I’ll be all right.”

Hell, it would be so easy to pull her into his arms and offer comfort. But if he did, it would lead to the one place from which there was no return. She removed the tormenting decision by heading for her worktable and stopping to survey the mess there.

Reynner had no clue what she was looking for. Piles of sketches and a handful of colored pens and pencils cluttered the surface. Files were stashed haphazardly in a tray against the wall, along with her jar of colorful jellybeans.

His gaze caressed her face as she hunted through the things on her table.
Urias
, she was so damn beautiful. She seemed to glow from within. A brightness he realized he needed in his life with growing desperation.

She picked up the sketches then dropped them. “I can’t deal with filing now. I have work to do.”

He joined her at the table. “I thought you were done?”

“One more.” She nodded at the tall sculpture covered with a dustsheet. “I need to finish that… Chinese for lunch?” She scratched through the papers, looking for the menu.

Reynner watched her for a moment. She seemed distracted, jumpy, her thoughts all over the place. “I’ll get it. What do you want?”

She turned confused eyes to him, the menu in her hand. “Huh?”

“Food, Eve.”

Her gaze drifted back to her sculpture. “Anything.”

He grasped her upper arm when she walked past him and removed the menu. “You need to calm down. Tonight we get the scroll. We cannot afford any mistakes.”

Like mist, the confusion in her eyes dissipated. She glowered. “And you wonder why I’m nervous.”

“It will be okay, I promise.” He let her go and studied the menu. “I have a replacement scroll, so that should settle your sense of righteousness.”

“How is that possible? There’s only one.”

He looked up, gave her a bland stare.

“Jesus, ask a stupid question,” she huffed. “You probably just conjured one up—it doesn’t matter anyway. The scroll belongs to your world. It’s more important to save your realm than us keeping it locked in a glass box.”

She headed for the covered sculpture and tugged the sheet from the massive form.

Females! After giving him a hard time about
stealing
the parchment, now she did a complete turnaround and gave him the big, A-Okay.

Watching her, Reynner made his call and ordered their food, but she seemed to have already forgotten him, her attention on the giant male sculpture. She ran her hand down its metal thigh and fiddled with a strip there.

His entire body tensed. Dammit, it’s just a freaking statue!

He took a deep breath and shut down his increasing possessiveness. Him and her couldn’t happen. To keep his thoughts off her, he parked his ass down on her only decent stool and perused her sketches.

She drew with a delicate hand, but the hard, massive, metal sculptures themselves held an alluring appeal. A lot like her. Fragile, but wired with a steely, determined core.

He picked up the working diagram of the horse she’d given him. The ribbons of interweaving metal and the solid core layer all worked out in the illustration. Then he studied the one of her friend, the dark-haired female, Brenna.

Reynner knew it was her because of the face Eve had added in for the nude sculpture. She’d included crossed eyes and a gap-toothed grin, instead of leaving it blank like the others. The caricature of her friend made him smile.

The doorbell buzzed.

“I’ll get it,” he said. A quick psychic scan confirmed it was their meal.

Reynner paid the delivery boy then set the bags on the worktable, cleared a space, and laid out cartons of food. The savory aroma of soy and peppers with hints of ginger drenched the studio as he strolled over to her. “Take a break.”

“In a sec. I want to finish this,” she said absently, attaching a metal strip to the sculpture’s midriff and slowly sliding her palm over the piece almost in a caress.

His irritation gave way to fascination when the thing just bent in her hand and she molded it into the shape she wanted. Intrigued, he ran a finger over the strip and found it hot, but not uncomfortable to touch.

Frowning, Reynner studied her expression while she worked. No, no indication the high temperature hurt her. Still, she was human...it should be painful.

“Eve, what exactly did you do to this metal?”

Her startled gaze flew to him. A light flush swept over her cheekbones.

When he saw how his question bothered her, he softened his tone. “Eve?”

Her hands tensed on the metal she held. “I guess it was only a matter of time before you found out. The accident also left me with an ability to heat things like metal.”

Reynner stared at her, stunned. It wasn’t what he’d expected. “What intensity—I mean, what heat level are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, just hot enough to soften and bend metal. Usually, I solder or melt heavier pieces in the kiln.” She pointed to the small oven-like structure in the corner of the room. “That just takes too much out of me.”

He seized her hands and examined her palms.

“Jeez, Reynner.” She tried to yank them back, her fingers fisting. “My hands are fine.”

“I don’t care about your scars. I want to see if you’ve burned yourself.”

“I haven’t.”

He didn’t relent, just held her gaze with determined ones.

Scowling, she uncurled her fists. He traced the bumpy scars and calluses with a finger. Satisfied she hadn’t hurt herself, he let her go.

She cut him an I-told-you-so-look, then turned back to study her life-size sculpture. “A little more work and it should be ready.”

To him, the sculpture looked done with all the weaves and gaping slits. But what did he know?

“Do you mind handing me that sketch on my table? The one with a photo attached,” she asked him.

Playing errand boy, Reynner went back and flipped through her stack of sketches. His gaze landed on the photo and he froze.

“Eve—” He broke off, unable to speak—to breathe, like someone had used a vise on his chest. “Eve, where did you get this?”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the photo he held. “Oh, that’s for Brenna’s friend. It’s a present for her husband. She gave me the pic and specifications.”

His attention back on the photo, Reynner felt the precarious foundation he lived on shudder beneath his feet.

“You okay?” Eve’s voice came to him from a distance.

He nodded, wondering why Eve hadn’t made the familial connections. Sure, Aerén’s hair was far lighter, and Aethan’s looked much darker than normal in this picture.

“You—” He had to clear the rust from his throat to ask. “You do commissioned work?”

“This is my first one. Echo seemed to like the unusual. Said my style appealed to her.”

Liked the unusual?
Naturally, she would. She was mated to his friend.

“Did you meet them?” he asked, waiting for an answer and dreading what he’d hear.

Eve gave him an enquiring look. “Just the wife—she’s pretty nice. She’s coming to see the final product today before I send it off. Why?”

The vise eased. He could breathe again. At least he was spared that meeting. “Just curious.”

Eve finally left the sculpture and came to the table. She took the photo from him and studied it. Seeming satisfied, she set it aside. Then she hopped on the high, swivel stool, picked up a carton, took one of the plastic forks, and started to make inroads in her chicken noodles.

Reynner ignored the other stool—a really rickety one that guaranteed to have him falling on his ass the moment he sat his weight on it.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Eve lifted her gaze from his untouched food and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Yeah, he could very well face his past.
Something he wasn’t prepared for and would never be. Not now, not after so many millennia.

Unable to answer that question, he shook his head. He picked up his fork and forced down food he didn’t taste—and was spared a second bite when he felt a brush against his psychic senses.

He stilled. Waited. The same sensation he’d experienced in the alley last night crept over him. Sticking his fork in the carton of noodles, he was out the door in seconds.

Moments later, a light peachy scent drifted to him.

Shit, of course, Eve would follow. His inner alarm continued to sound.

“Reynner, what is it? You’re scaring me.” She glanced about her where they stood on the dirt-encrusted asphalt, the clammy noon heat enclosing them.

He searched the lane, farther up where the alley met the main street. A man leaned against the wall, smoking and conversing to another. Cars droned by. But the alley itself remained quiet.

The back entrance to the furniture warehouse opposite her studio was shut. However, the trails of boot prints in the wood dust leading to the next building caught his attention.

He scanned the boarded up place and his anger went into slow burn.

“Eve, go back to the studio, lock the door and stay there ’til I come for you,” Reynner said, his attention on the barred warehouse decorated with grimy graffiti.

“What is it?” She looked around the alley. He didn’t want to alarm her about the danger he sensed. With a hand on her lower back, he gave her a nudge to get her moving.

Once he was sure she was safe and locked in her studio, with inhuman speed, he dashed across the street to the boarded entrance. He shoved hard with his mind. Timber exploded. Debris flooded the air and clattered to the dusty floors. Then utter silence ensued.

Reynner paused at the entrance and probed the interior with several darkened corners. Dust motes jostled in the slants of light pouring in from the windows. With preternatural swiftness, he lunged for the shadows in the right corner and seized a body. He slammed the male against the wall. A grunt echoed in the quiet interior.

Shit! It was the same Darkrean fucker who’d followed him last night. Anger tore through Reynner. His danger radar vibrated in alarm—he ducked. And a dagger whisked inches past his face to embed in the wall behind him. Mohawk tore free and joined his taller pal with the metallic colored hair and cold eyes.

Sebris. The Darkreans’ deadly combat leader. Only he possessed that distinct multihued nickel bronze mane.

The bastard didn’t move to strike. He simply stared with all the arrogance of their kind. As if he knew Reynner’s every dark secret. But that crap meant little to him, he just wanted their heads for daring to come after Eve. Preferably separated from their bodies.

“Darkrean,” Reynner drawled.

“Empyrean,” the leader countered. It surprised Reynner that he’d gotten a response.

“We fight for the same cause.”

“Oh? You have something to share, then? By all means, go ahead,” Reynner invited. Did they think him that gullible—that he’d believe they fought for the survival of Empyrea? The bastards wanted the power to rule. This was just a stall tactic while they waited for the chance to grab Eve and run.

“Give us the female—”

“Yeah, right.” Anger prowled through Reynner like a deadly beast ready to destroy anything in its path. No way in hell would they get their hands on Eve. He summoned his sword as theirs flashed into their hands. They charged him. Reynner deflected. Steel met steel, the sound resonating through the empty warehouse.

A red haze taking over his mind, Reynner spun around, his blade coming down in a brutal arc, slicing viciously through flesh and connecting with bone.

A growl erupted, the first sign of emotion from Mohawk.

“Hurt, does it?” Reynner snarled.

A winging hiss resonated in the dank air. Reynner jumped back and barely avoided the sword that nearly skewered him. But the damn thing sliced him across the chest anyway. Pain spread. Not a sound left his mouth as warm blood drenched his shirt. Rage erupting like wildfire, he leaped at the cold bastard, struck hard.

The leader grunted.

Blood spilled. More damage. Good. Reynner prowled around them, ready to hack them into fucking pieces for coming after his female.

***

Eve paced in front of the huge industrial windows, her gaze pinned on the dark doorway of the adjacent building. The only thing keeping her here was the knowledge that the last time she’d tried to help Reynner, he’d gotten hurt instead. Her stomach heaved at the thought.

Please, please let him be all right.

Her fear fled the moment he strode out from the broken doorway. Sun glinted off his pale hair, but his face was drawn tight in anger… pain?

She flew out of the studio like a gust of wind, as he crossed the narrow road. And stumbled to a halt. The blood drained from her head when she saw the slash on his tee and the sticky wetness saturating the material.

Oh, God. Not again.

She must have swayed. Reynner grabbed her arm, steadying her. “It’s nothing. I’ll heal.”

That brought her back fast. “Who was it—tell me you killed them!”

She didn’t care that she sounded ferocious and bloodthirsty. She wanted them dead for hurting him.

“Eve
,
” he murmured, gently touching her face. “I'm fine. And no, they aren’t dead. I don’t want them on us right now, and that’s guaranteed if I kill one. Let’s go inside. They’ve disappeared, but they could send reinforcements.”

Eve’s anger deflated when she thought of what was at risk. Not only could Reynner die in this fight but his entire realm was under threat, too. From what Aerén had said, the Darkreans would do anything to rule Empyrea.

“Do they think we have the Stone? Are they looking to steal it?”

Ice flowed into his eyes. “Right now, it’s you they want.”

That stumped her…for a second. “Well, I’m not that easy to get to, not with you here.”

A wry smile chasing away his grimness, he ushered her back into the studio. “Glad to know you trust me.”

With her safety? Absolutely. But with her heart? Eve didn’t dare.

She fetched the first-aid kit from the sink cupboard in the corner of the studio. Turning, she found Reynner had his t-shirt bunched up in one hand, revealing his tanned abs while he examined the wound on his chest. The urge to run her fingers over those sculpted muscles had her tightening her hold on the box. She crossed the room and set the kit on the table.

He tugged his tee down. “Eve, I don’t need tending to, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’m not. So remove the shirt, or…” She eyed him. He was far too tall, and since she couldn’t very well climb up him to yank it off, she threatened, “Or I’ll cut it off.”

He arched a brow, amusement lighting his gaze. But he did as she wanted and lowered himself onto the stool. She took out gauze and disinfectant from the box and paused. Darn, she hadn’t thought this through. She’d have to stand between his parted thighs, be close to him.

Fix him up and step back, Eve,
she told herself.
This can’t go anywhere.

Right. Concentrating on cleaning the long gash across his right pec helped. As she worked, the bleeding eased. Eve didn’t comment since he probably had quick-healing abilities, too. She tossed the soiled gauze on the table, far too aware of the jittery sensation spiraling through her. And touching his warm, naked skin didn’t help matters.

His hands settled on her hips. “You always seem to be patching me up.”

She gave him a quick look. Her breath caught at the intensity of his dark stare. She forgot her question. Need unfurled low in her belly.

“You’re hurt…I want to help.”

Focus, Eve, or you’ll only land in a hard place from where there’s no turning back.
Except with a broken heart.

Focusing back on her task as if her very life depended on it, she reached for the antiseptic ointment, squirted some on her finger, and applied it to the wound. But the burn-like tattoo on his left pec drew her gaze. She counted eight points to the star. On impulse, she traced the edges with a finger—

He grabbed her wrist. His expression violent, grip painful. “Don’t.”

Shocked. Eve wrenched her hand free and stumbled back. He pushed to his feet. “I don’t like you touching it.”

It?
He meant
him.
“Yes, you made that very clear.” Her movements jerky, she scooped the things back into the first-aid box.

“It’s not what you think—”

“There’s no need for explanations.”

Cursing, Reynner thumped the table with open palms, making everything on it jolt.

Mouth tight, Eve snapped the lid shut and stopped, a memory seeped into her of him chained in that hellhole dungeon, and that demoness clawing his wounds, doing those horrific things to him…

It’s why he didn’t like being touched.

Her stomach dipped, her hurt and anger fading. She wanted to go to and wrap her arms around him, take away those ugly memories.

“Your client’s here,” Reynner muttered, the lines of his face rigid.

She’d almost forgotten about her appointment.

A car door slammed.

That got her moving. She cleared up the bloodied cotton pads and stored the kit in the cupboard then washed her hands. As she hurried back, she sensed the tension in Reynner, even if she couldn’t read much from his expression. And wondered if he was in pain.

“Why don’t you sit down while I deal with this?” Then she headed for the door.

***

Sit down?
Reynner couldn’t move to save his life.

His body vibrated with need at being so close to her. She had to go and touch the filthy brand on his chest. He didn’t want her tainted with that shit. And she thought he didn’t want her touching him. Yeah, he usually loathed when anyone got too close or touched him—but not Eve.

The sound of feminine voices drew him back. Reynner got his first glimpse of Aethan’s mate. She wore a sleeveless, flowing white top that skimmed the waist of her jeans. The color offset her light honey-gold skin. A shallow dimple dented her chin. A little taller than Eve, her black hair was cut in a spiky style.

She smiled at something Eve said and came to an abrupt halt when she saw him.

Her gaze widened, the mismatched eyes unexpected, one a light gray and the other amber. The otherworldly light glowing in them while she studied him made him uneasy. Then her entire manner changed as if awareness filled her.

Oh, shit, she sensed him. Knew what he was. How was that even possible? Hell, he should have left—no, he couldn’t leave Eve unprotected—especially not with those emotionless fuckers sniffing about.

“I didn’t know you had company, Eve,” Aethan’s female said, her voice held a hint of a rasp.

Eve came over to him and introduced her. “Reynner, this is Echo. Echo, Reynner.”

Reynner nodded. If this female mentioned his name or her suspicions to Aethan—fuck. Too late now.

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” A smile lit her attractive, angular features. Then her gaze lowered to his chest and her brow furrowed. “What happened? Was there a fight?”

Shit. Shirt. He needed his damn shirt!

Where was the bloody thing? A quick search, and he found it on the floor near the foot of the stool. He picked it up and yanked it on, ignoring the sticky blood plastered on his skin once more.

“It’s nothing. All sorted out now,” Eve said, surprising him at her discretion. “Come. Let me show you the sculpture. It’s almost completed. Another week or so and it should be done.”

Echo’s gaze settled on the metal figure that Reynner never in a thousand years would have guessed was a depiction of his friend. She stared at it for so long, Eve gave him a nervous glance. Reynner nearly asked the female to say something.

“It’s amazing!” She grasped Eve’s arm. Eve flinched. The female didn’t notice the way Eve immediately stuck her hands into her jeans pockets.

Echo let Eve go and circled the sculpture then ran a reverent hand over the metal.

The thought that Eve had done the same, hell, it was stupid, but he didn’t like it—didn't like her touching his friend, even if it was just a damn sculpture.

“I love it. You’ve captured exactly what he is. All that wildness, that power,” Echo said in delight. “He’s going to be so—”

“So what?” An amused voice asked from the doorway.

Reynner froze as three thousand years melted away. He stared at his old friend.

Aethan had changed. He appeared older, harder, tougher than the male he’d once been. All the shit he’d suffered through for so many millennia would do that to a person. Hell, Reynner knew more than anyone how life could change you. But that teasing tone remained the same.

The urge to walk over and say hello grew so strong, it took all of Reynner’s willpower to plant his feet and remain where he was.

“Oh, there you are.” Echo hurried over to him. “I want you to see this. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I was too excited and couldn’t wait.”

“You called me,
me’morae.
” Aethan smiled at his mate and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “It’s not like I’d ignore your summons.”

Called
him? Reynner frowned. How? She didn’t use her cell—dammit! How could he forget? If theirs was a soul bonding, she must have mind-linked with him.

“Summons?” Echo snorted. “You follow no one’s rules but your own.”

A smile ghosted his mouth. Playfully, he tugged a lock of her hair, and she laughed.

The tender moment had Reynner looking away. His chest hollowed out. There was no redemption for one such as him. No mate.

Yet, he was aware Eve had moved closer to him. He wanted to hold onto her. Instead, he clenched the table edge he leaned against.

“What do you want me to see—” Aethan turned. Shock and utter disbelief crossed his old friend’s face. As if in a time warp, Reynner was hurtled through the millennia to the last time he’d seen Aethan in Empyrea. His expression held a similar look, except it had been shock at the atrocity that had occurred, one Reynner had caused.