Secret Worlds (258 page)

He pushed open the door to the library and she preceded him inside. She stopped in the middle of the expansive room and looked around at the towering shelves of books that had kept him company for centuries. Her shoulders relaxed.

“You like it here,” he said.

She nodded. “I’ve always loved books. They gave me a way to temporarily escape my nightmares.” A shelf of particularly old tomes caught her eye and she walked toward it.

“Use your mornings here to research your past. But in the afternoons, we’ll be in the gym on the other side of the house.”

“All right.” She turned to face him and held up her wrist. “Do you think this tattoo could be a clue to my identity?”

“No’ likely. I think the tattoo was meant to draw you to Edinburgh.”
To me.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been drawn here if my former soul wasn’t British, right?”

“Aye, you were British. Arthur’s Seat has the strongest magical energy of any place in Great Britain. Reincarnates are often led there by their catalyzing events.”

She sighed. “Research it is, then.”

“How will you start?” He looked around the room, brows drawn. What could she find here? He’d stay with her, help her, and hopefully discover her task before she did. She was braver than he’d originally thought, but the idea of her risking her life made him ill. It was unacceptable.

Tonight, he’d come down and hide the texts that were more likely to give her answers. Then, when he had a moment, he’d see if they held anything useful.

“I’ll flip through books and see if anything reminds me of my dreams. Clothes, weapons, tools, furniture. With history, you can never tell what little piece of evidence will put the whole picture together. Hopefully something will jog my memory.”

Jog her memory? Of his own face, perhaps?

***

Clothes and weapons were only a few of the clues her dreams provided. The man who had held her as she died was the other part of the mystery. But it had all happened so long ago that she couldn’t remember his face or even his hair color.

“How much do you remember of your past?” she asked. And how much harder would it be for her to remember hers when it was so much older than his?

“All of it. No’ all in great detail, but I remember more than I care to.” He sounded weary, as if the weight of the past bore down upon him. He was so strong, so steady that she couldn’t imagine anything hurting him. But muscle and bone couldn’t protect the heart and the mind.

She didn’t know how to respond, so instead she watched silently as he walked across the soft carpet toward one of the shelves. He reached up and withdrew a delicate volume, then settled himself in a chair in front of the windows that looked out upon the sea, an air of lethal grace about him despite the delicate book he cradled in his hard warrior’s hands.

Her gaze jerked away from him. She needed to stay focused on her own past if she had any hope of getting out of this, not on the devastatingly sexy and very possibly damaged man sitting across from her. But it was hard not to think of him when she liked everything that she learned. She shook the thoughts away and got to work.

Four hours later, after looking through countless texts, her heart sped up with the thrill of discovery. This was why she liked studying history. For the moment when a puzzle piece fell into place and her mind ran a mile a minute while her lungs and heart tried to keep up.

But this was even bigger than that. It felt like a lightning strike. She’d found something. She was dead certain of it. “Cadan.” Her voice trembled. “Come look at this.”

Within moments, he was standing behind her. “What—what’s that?”

“Verulamium.” She read the text beneath the picture of the tumbling stone ruin. “I don’t know why it’s important, but it is, I can feel it, and we have to go there.”

“Nay. Absolutely no’. Too dangerous.”

“Look at what it says beneath the picture. It’s a first-century Roman settlement that was destroyed by the Celts. That falls within the period of my dreams. And it feels familiar. Just like I’d hoped.”

“Feels? That’s no’ very scientific.”

She twisted in her chair and scowled up at him. “Seriously? A magical tattoo and the appearance of demons sent me across the ocean to discover that I’ve been reincarnated and you’re harping on science? Having a feeling that Verulamium is important is no less crazy than that.”

“It’s all the way in the south of England. I’m no’ taking you all the way down there. Demons would be all over you as soon as we stepped off my property. Now, it’s well past lunch and almost time for your self-defense lessons.” He spun on his heel and walked toward the door and she hopped up to follow.

“This is the first clue I’ve had, and you’re making me ignore it? I am one hundred percent sure that this is important. I really do feel it.”

“It’s no’,” he said. “Verulamium is a Roman fort. You weren’t a Roman, I’ll tell you that much. Going there is too dangerous. It’s my job to keep you safe and going to Verulamium is no’ going to happen.”

Her brow creased as she looked at him. If his face was hard, his eyes were diamond. Why was he so resistant to go to Verulamium when she was sure it would help? Was it really just about keeping her safe…or was there more to it?

“That’s what you’re wearing to learn to fight?” The husky voice announced Cadan’s entry to the arsenal that he called a gym.

Bracing herself to turn around to face him, Diana stared blindly at the honey-colored wood of the walls that would have been inviting if they hadn’t been a backdrop for gleaming weapons of copper, iron, and steel. Wicked and threatening, even in this lovely room.

But then, they were what she’d come here to learn about now that the late lunch she’d shared with Cadan was finished. Finished, but not before she’d confirmed that she was actually starting to like him, despite his shiftiness about her past.

Now she was here, wearing too-tight yoga pants and a tank top—both had seemed like a good idea when she’d pulled them out of her bag. Due to the fact that planets could orbit around her butt, she didn’t normally wear things like this outside of gardening in her very private yard. But she didn’t have much else in her bag because of her hasty packing. And it hadn’t seemed like the worst idea, considering that she liked him. But now that she was here, and she had to turn and face him…. Well, it didn’t seem so clever anymore.

To buy time, she pointed to the wall hung with weapons made of brightly colored metals or stone and without turning around, asked, “What are those?”

His footsteps sounded behind her as he approached. “They’re weapons that I’ve collected from other Mytheans over the years. They doona mean too much to mortals.”

Her gaze passed over the crosses, pendants, talismans, and other less identifiable items that hung below the weapons on copper hangers, and landed on fine leather straps looped over another copper spike. “And those?”

“Maoin straps. They’re like magical handcuffs. They’re enchanted to negate the strength of whoever is bound.”

“Interesting.” Knowing that she was past a reasonable amount of delay, she turned to face him.

He coughed, rubbed a hand across his mouth.

“It’s all I had,” she said, surprised and gratified at his response and the heat in his eyes as they swept up and down her form.

It had still been a stupid idea, but at least she didn’t feel like an idiot, especially considering how flawless he looked. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to look more at the breadth of his chest or at the hint of stubble shadowing his strong chin.

“Well—” His gaze shifted around the room like he wanted it to land anywhere but on her. But inevitably it was drawn back. “Are you ready to start?”

“Yes. After what happened out on the road, I want to know if I really do have a knack for this.”

“You were supposed to stay in the car.”

“And you need to stop being so protective. I can do this. I have to do this. There’s something within me, something new that likes violence—that’s very good at violence. I want to get used to it, to be able to control it when it does come out.”

He nodded, his expression approving.

“So, what will we start with—small weapons?” she asked.

“Hand-to-hand, then move on to weapons later, depending on how naturally proficient you are. You won’t always have a weapon when you are attacked. Better be prepared to use your fists.” He lifted her hands, and her breath caught in her lungs. “Your feet.” He tapped one of her feet with his. “And your brain.” He tapped her forehead with a finger.

She scowled, but a grin followed.

His big hand enveloped hers and a shiver raced up her arm. He drew her to the center of the mat. “Because of your size, you’re going to have to rely on speed and cleverness.”

Standing so close, she couldn’t help but notice how much taller he was than she, and broader. And that there was a faint scar right at the bridge of his nose where it had once been broken.

“I know you’ll have no trouble with cleverness, but the speed? I’m no’ so sure.”

She wasn’t either, but decided to keep her mouth shut.

“You won’t be able to do much damage through brute strength, so you’ll have to focus on doing the most damage possible with what you’ve got. Use your opponent’s body against him.”

“Or her.”

“Or her. Aim for sensitive areas—knees or groin—or if you can reach his face, go for the neck, eyes, nose, or ears.”

Her hand flashed up quickly, smacking him in the ear.

He jerked. “Damn it.”

She stifled a grin. “Sorry.”

He rubbed his ear and glowered at her, then gave her another approving nod. “Good. You used surprise. And doona apologize. You canna hurt me.”

“Not yet.”

“No’ ever,” he corrected, making her grit her teeth.

That’s what you think
. She felt her competitive streak—normally reserved for academic endeavors—coming out.

“Even though you’re small, you can use your weight to your advantage. With the right leverage and a bit of physics, there are ways to bring even large opponents to their knees.”

She nodded, then lunged at him, thrusting her elbow into his throat. He caught on barely in time, sidestepping to take the blow to the side of his throat instead of the center where she’d aimed. He staggered backward, coughing. Before she could revel in her success and consider a second move, he grabbed her and spun her around, jerking her back against his chest.

“Ah, ah, lassie. Mythean Guardian here, remember? I like that you fight dirty, but it’s going to be harder to pull one over on me now. But points for sneakiness.”

His voice, rough from the blow, sent shivers down her spine. She was surrounded by his arms and chest, hot as a flame.
Was he flirting with her?

Yes, she decided. Yes, he was.

“How did you learn to do that?” he asked.

She swallowed, tried to focus on her answer and not on the feel of him. “I didn’t. You said
leverage and physics
, so I put the force of my body behind my elbow, ensuring that the force would be focused on a small surface area and act upon you most strongly. Then I aimed for a delicate area.”

“Like I thought, no problem with cleverness.” He released her.

“Okay, now what?” She was eager to continue the lessons. There were scarier things out there than the trees that scratched at the windows. With each new skill, each new bit of information, the helplessness leached away and she felt her courage growing.

“I have a feeling you’re a natural. Let’s practice,” Cadan said. “I’m going to come at you like an assailant. Try to fend me off.”

They practiced for hours, until Diana was tired but certain her skill in combat wasn’t a fluke. It was totally weird, but she
was
a natural. Maybe her body really did remember things that her mind didn’t. More than that, she couldn’t shake the flashes of recognition when she looked at Cadan.

Especially now that she’d tackled him to the ground and sat astride him. Normally, she’d have hopped up and he’d have issued another challenge. But she couldn’t make herself move.

“Why do you seem so familiar?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off his face. So handsome. But so strangely familiar, even though she was certain she’d never met him before.

“We’ve been around each other a lot. Now get off.” His voice was tight.

She shook her head. His body was huge and hard beneath hers, and he looked up at her with surprised heat in his eyes.

“I really do think there is a lot you aren’t telling me,” she said, then tentatively ran her hands down his chest to see what he would do.

His jaw tensed and his hands shot up to grip her thighs, almost reflexively, as if he would stop her but didn’t quite want to. She decided that distracting him from his objections would be an excellent way to get him relaxed enough to answer her questions about Verulamium, which she couldn’t get off her mind.

And being on top, in control, sent a wild and heady power streaking through her veins. The proof of his attraction—the hard shaft now pressed against her, the light mist of sweat at his brow, his shallow breaths—gave her courage. So she braced herself for rejection, clung to hope, and said, “I have a question.”

“You have a lot of questions,” he said, his voice pained and his gaze racing over her form.

“True. I’m a historian, after all. Which leads me to my question. Why is it,” she asked, as she ran a hand over his hard chest, “that you are so very large?”

He could push her off him at any moment, but from the way he looked at her, eyes fierce, he wouldn’t be doing so anytime soon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re over three hundred years old. And you’re nearly six and a half feet tall. You shouldn’t be this tall. Three hundred years ago, hardly anyone had your height. Were you
really
this big back then?” She ached to put her hands on the bronzed flesh she’d revealed, but resisted.

“Wisely noted,” he said as he squeezed her thighs.

Had he spread them slightly apart? She shivered.

“I wasn’t always this tall. But as a guardian, we’re meant to protect. To be the strongest in this world.” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “So we grow. As the average mortal height increases, so does ours.”