Darkness Reborn (Order of the Blade #5) (3 page)

Jacob's eyes met hers, and she saw in them too much life. Horror welled through her as she realized that in her attempt to avoid killing him, she’d cut off her attack too soon. He wasn’t debilitated enough. He was going to attack again.

Sarah watched in disbelief as Jacob began to drag himself toward her, his red eyes fixated on hers. "Don't," she warned. Frantically, she searched the woods, desperate to try to find another option, a way out. It couldn't end like this! "Don't do it."

He uncurled his claws, and tears filled her eyes. How could he be making this choice? Wasn't there anything left of the human being he used to be? Of the brother she once loved? She knew he'd been chosen for her, because the betrayal by her own brother was the final blow that would eviscerate every last shred of hope and faith from her soul. "Oh, come on!" she shouted at him. "I'm your damned sister, Jacob! You're a better man than this!"

Jacob didn't even hesitate, dragging himself closer and closer to her, the inexorable approach of doom. Was he too weak to teleport, or was he forcing her to watch his approach on purpose, to have each inch of progress destroy another part of her soul?

As she watched him, her heart began to fragment, piece by piece, the strings that had been barely holding it together for so long finally breaking. Weakly, she managed to raise one hand in warning, letting white light pulse from her palm. "I'll kill us both," she whispered.

His eyes glowed with excitement. "I know."

He knew.
He was willing to sacrifice himself just to see her die. How on earth could he have been conscripted like this, turned so far from the person he used to be? "Dammit! I won't let this happen!" She fought to sit up, and dizziness sent her back down to her side as she struggled for breath.
Come on, Sarah! Fight!
She shoved herself up on her elbows. "Jacob—"

He jammed a claw between her shoulder blades and knocked her back toward the earth. Pain barreled through her, and the dark chasm inside her grew larger, threatening to overtake her—

Then she felt it again. That warmth in her mind. That protective male energy. She hadn’t imagined it? It was real? Was there really someone out there who could help?
Hurry. Please hurry.

I’m coming.
The male voice was so fierce and furious in her mind that sudden hope flooded her like a great burst of sunshine.

Jacob froze, his hand suspended in midair over her throat as if he’d sensed it too.

“Someone is coming to save me,” she whispered, her throat too dry to do more than rasp out the words, the deadliness of the stranger's voice reverberating through her. “Run, Jacob, before he gets here. He'll kill you." She had no doubt of that. She'd felt the violence pulsing through the stranger, and knew he wouldn't hesitate.

It was great, of course, to have some protector descend upon her like a gift from the heavens, but this was her brother, after all, and she didn't want him to die. There had still been flashes of blue in his eyes. He still might reclaim himself. She had to give him that chance. "Get out of here, Jacob!"

But he didn't retreat, and his forearm tensed to strike—

The night burst with sudden energy, and a huge Calydon warrior materialized beside her SUV. His torso was bare, covered in scars. His shoulders were tremendous and wide, and his fists were clenched around a pair of deadly spiked flails. He was strength and power, consumed with a ferocity that made the night thunder. He met her gaze, and for a split second, she felt the world grind to a halt, as if time had literally stopped from the force of their connection.

Then his gaze went to her trembling hand, where she was pressing so weakly and desperately against the wound in her side. Intense, violent fury darkened his face, and his body vibrated with aggression. She saw him fixate on Jacob, who was still crouched over her, his claws poised over her throat. The two warriors stared each other down, and she knew Jacob was trying to decide whether he could kill her before this warrior reached him.

Sudden terror consumed her, a sense of overwhelming loss at what would happen if these two warriors engaged. Everything was being held in the balance, dependent on the outcome of that moment. Both men had to live.
They both had to live.
She knew it with sudden certainty, with everything she had. “No, Jacob,” she managed. “Don’t do it—”

But before she could finish the words, Jacob slashed at her neck. The new warrior bellowed with rage, and he materialized at her side just as Jacob’s claws raked across her throat. He jammed the flail in Jacob’s chest and flung her brother into the forest as she grabbed at her neck, gasping at the pain.

Jacob landed with a thud, then scrambled to his feet and bolted into the darkness, fleeing to preserve his life and attack her another day. She grabbed the warrior’s ankle as he started to fade to go after her brother. “No,” she gasped, terrified he would finish off Jacob. “Let him go.”

He looked down at her, and she saw the aggression and violence in his dark eyes, a jolting reminder that he was a Calydon warrior, a male she couldn’t trust, an unpredictable enemy who would turn on her at any moment, the creature born to be her very downfall.

Stunned, she let her hand fall from his ankle. How could she have forgotten what he was? How could she have forgotten the lessons she’d learned so brutally? How could she have let herself be consumed by the relief she’d felt at his arrival?

The moment he sensed what she was, even on a subconscious level, he would kill her. There would be no way for him to stop himself. It was why he and all the other Calydons were created: to destroy her and her kind.

His eyes were black now, but they would soon turn red. They always did.

It was nighttime now, the kind of dark, moonless night that was the playground for his kind. She was alone with him in a stretch of forest, miles from humanity, still helpless from the punishment of using her powers against Jacob and the others. She had no defenses. No resources. No way to survive him when he turned on her.

But as the aftermath of her powers began to take over her, and the fever set in, she knew that without him, she wouldn’t survive either.

* * *

She was dying.

Kane could feel the ebbing of her life force as her hand fell away from his ankle. Urgency coursed through him, and he crouched beside her, his Calydon instinct to hunt down her attacker vanishing in the face of her fading spirit. He put his hand over her side and swore when she tried to jerk away from him. "No, no," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you."

But there was terror on her face. Not random fear of what he was, a member of the Order of the Blade with a fearsome reputation. No, there was wisdom and a grim acceptance of reality in her blue eyes, as if she knew who he
truly
was. As if she had the answers he'd been seeking his whole life. Shock shot through him. "You know who I am," he said fiercely. "Who am I?"

"You're a Calydon," she rasped out, her voice hoarse, as if she'd been screaming for days.

A Calydon? That was all she saw? Disappointment coursed through him, the same loss he'd experienced so many times when he'd thought he had a lead on his past. How could he have been wrong this time? It felt like she was seeing right through him to his core.

"Go away," she whispered. "Now."

And leave her dying? He was almost insulted that she would even suggest it. He had no idea who she was, but he was consumed with the need to keep her safe, to protect her. "No."

Kane pressed more firmly against her belly, trying to stem the flow of blood. She was burning up, and what looked like hairline fractures were streaking across her skin. Tremors were shaking her, and he could see the wildness of pain in her eyes. "Tell me how to help you." He wanted to pick her up, but she looked so fragile, like she would shatter into a thousand fragments if he moved her. Damn. He had no concept of how to be gentle. He knew how to fight the bad guys, not how to handle someone so delicate she looked as if she would disintegrate in his arms.

She shook her head and tried to roll onto her side away from him, as if she were going to try to get up. "Just let me go. I think I can make it."

No chance was Kane letting her go. He carefully grasped her shoulders. The heat from her skin burned his fingers, and he swore at the intensity of it. What the hell was happening to her? "I can feel your spirit fading," he said. "Don't lie to me."

Her gaze flickered to him, vulnerability etched on her face, and for a moment, her shields fell. In that split second, he felt the true depths of her anguish, a torment that filled her soul, the burden of responsibility so great that it was destroying her. The black void within him surged in response, recognizing the pain within her, and he grimaced, struggling against the sudden onslaught of emptiness.

Her eyes widened. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He fought it back down as her body began to shake even more violently. She fell back to the ground with a thud that sounded like her skin had cracked even more, and she couldn't suppress a small moan. He instinctively reached for her, but she tried to scoot away from him.

"I'm here to help you." Refusing to allow her to reject his aid, he gently grasped her shoulders. What was she seeing when she looked at him? He was a damned hero to most people. The only ones who looked at him in terror, like this woman was doing, were the rogue Calydons when they realized Kane was going to cut them down. But he wasn't going to hurt her. There was simply no chance, no matter who she was. The urge to keep her safe was more powerful than anything he'd ever felt. It reverberated all the way to his soul, his need to protect her. She was safe with him, and he knew it, but she was still looking at him as if he were there for the sole purpose of killing her. "Why are you fighting me?"

She closed her eyes, and he felt the pulse in her energy as she fought for her life. "Because you'll have to kill me if you stay."

"Fuck that. I don't kill women." But the moment he said that, he knew it was a lie. He'd killed women before. Not many. Not with pleasure. But because the mission that drove him was bigger than the life of a single innocent, and as an Order member, he'd made an oath to protect humanity at any cost. But he wouldn't hurt her. Never her. Never this woman in his arms, whose blue eyes looked at him as if she saw to the very depths of who he was, in a way that no one else ever had.

"I'm different. You won't be able to stop yourself." Then another tremor shook her, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

"Son of a bitch." Fuck her resistance to him. There was no way he could leave her like this. He could help her. He knew he could. He felt it in the very fiber of his being. He had a connection to her, one that went past his scars to the part of him that held his secrets. Something in the depths of his soul recognized her, but he didn't know what or why or how. All he knew was that he would lay down his damned life to protect her. The need to keep her safe was beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life.

Carefully, so gently, trying not to scare her, trying to make her understand he was there to help, he lifted her onto his lap, supporting her against his chest. "Tell me what to do," he demanded. "Tell me how to help you."

She shook her head, her eyes beginning to glaze. Desperation filled him, a sense of gaping loss consuming him. He was losing her. He knew he was. Because she wouldn't trust him to help her. "I'm not a damned murderer," he said. "Tell me what to do!" He couldn't keep the fierceness out of his voice, couldn't suppress his frustration with his inability to help her.

She closed her eyes, and said nothing. She was shutting him out. Seriously? She was going to risk death instead of accepting his help? What the hell? "What's your name?" he said urgently, trying to connect with her, to get her to trust him in time.

Sarah Burns.

Her voice was the faintest whisper in his mind, and rightness filled him at the intimacy of it. He leapt on the chance to connect with her, wrapping his spirit around hers and trying to warm her coldness.
My name is Kane Santiago. I won't hurt you. I swear it.
He took her hand and set it on his chest.
Can't you feel it?

Her fingers curled into his chest, and electricity shot through him. He sucked in his breath, shocked by the intensity of her touch, by the current rippling through him. His entire being leapt in response, and the dark void trying to consume him roared in rebellion as his spirit turned toward Sarah, as if she were a great light that could hold off the darkness.

He knew in that moment that he needed her, on levels he couldn't even comprehend. She was his salvation, his hope, his only chance to defeat the monster trying to chase him. "Sarah!" He hugged her more tightly against him, demanding her response. "Tell me how to save you!"

I need your faith.

My faith?
What the hell was that all about? How was that going to save her?
Where are your people? Do you have a healer I can take you to?
He didn't bother to ask about a regular doctor. He'd sensed that she wasn't completely human. The richness of her spirit was too intense, too compelling. The air was lush and rich around her, as if she filled the atmosphere with life. As if she filled
him
with life.

Her voice grew fainter in his mind.
Tell me something worth living for, Kane. Make me feel it.

Something worth living for? Son of a bitch. That was the one thing he had no answers for. He knew only death. He knew only loss. He lived with a void, violence and an empty past.

Why do you get up every morning? Why do you decide to breathe another breath?
She arched in his arms as another convulsion took her.
What do you live for?

Kane swore.
I don't know. Answers. I want answers. I refuse to die until I find out who I was.