GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 11

Ariyal stumbled backward in revulsion as the zombies began to literally drop like flies around him.

Not that he objected to their stop, drop, and return-to-dead routine.

A pile of rotting corpses was considerably better than a ravaging horde of rotting corpses. And more importantly, the sight of them assured him that Jaelyn had managed to overcome whoever was responsible for calling the abominations from their grave.

Relief surged through him, along with a wry flare of humor.

He didn’t know why he worried.

Jaelyn was a female who could take care of herself. Hell, he’d bet good money that the powerful Hunter was in better shape than he was.

Leaning against a tree, Ariyal glanced down at the numerous wounds that continued to seep blood. The zombies had been relentless in their single-minded devotion in ripping him to shreds and it had taken all his skill just to keep the damage to a minimum.

Thankfully, none of the injuries were life threatening, but still they were sapping his energy. And worse, they hurt like a bitch.

Cursing zombies and witches and every other minion of the Dark Lord who was probably lurking in the shadows, Ariyal lifted his head as the cool wash of power filled the air, watching as Jaelyn flowed toward him with a mesmerizing beauty.

A slender, enticing female who was as gloriously lethal as she was beautiful.

His entire body clenched in ... what?

Recognition, he at last decided.

There was simply no other word for it.

But recognition of what?

Desire? Need?

Fate?

The question went unanswered as she halted at his side, her hand reaching out to touch his bare chest before she was yanking it back as if she thought he might contaminate her.

“How badly are you injured?” she asked, her voice cold.

His lips twisted. No one could claim the female was at the mercy of her emotions. But then, what had he expected?

Horrified dismay that he’d been hurt? A tender need to nurture him back to health?

Yeah, she was more likely to sprout wings and fly.

“Nothing that won’t heal.”

“How long?”

He frowned, sensing there was more to her question than mere impatience.

“Two, maybe three hours.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “We don’t have that long.”

“Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“It’s too exposed out here.”

Absolutely more than impatience. Biting back his groan of pain, Ariyal pushed away from the tree and scanned the seemingly empty meadow.

“Exposed to what?”

“The mage escaped.”

“The one controlling the zombies?” He reached down to grasp the sword he’d dropped at his feet.

“Yes.” She grimaced. “And it gets worse.”

There was something worse than zombies?

Fantastic.

“I’m listening.”

“The magic-user was a cur.”

Ariyal abruptly recalled the scent of cur that he’d noticed earlier. Obviously he should have paid more attention.

But then again, who had ever heard of a cur/mage?

Or was it mage/cur?

“I didn’t know that was possible,” he muttered.

“Not only possible, but a pain in the ass.”

He hid his smile at her peeved tone. Jaelyn was accustomed to being the winner. No matter who or what her opponent might be.

Now she was clearly irked that the cur had escaped, although the blood on her hand revealed she’d done serious injury to the dog.

“Is there more?” he prompted.

“He’s not alone.”

He snorted. It just got better and better.

“Tearloch?”

She shook her head. “No, at least one other cur and a human witch.” She absently stroked the handle of her shotgun. Ariyal suspected it was an unconscious gesture that offered her comfort. He suppressed a groan, easily imaging those slender fingers stroking something far more interesting. “There’s also a creature who is capable of masking his scent,” she confessed, unaware of his erotic fantasies.

He grimly forced his thoughts away from his distracting urge to press her against the tree and ease the need that pulsed just below the surface whenever she was near. His life was in enough danger without adding sex with a feral vampire.

Not that he wouldn’t... .

He hissed in frustration, crushing the thought before it could form.

“Another magic-user?” he rasped.

She shrugged. “My guess would be a demon, perhaps even a vampire.”

“A Hunter?”

“I don’t know.” Concern flickered in the indigo eyes. “That’s what troubles me.”

Ariyal tilted back his head to draw in a deep breath, sorting through the various scents that filled the meadow.

A family of sprites that was scurrying out of a nearby cavern and through the cornfields in obvious panic. A pack of hellhounds hunting a deer.

And more distant, the stench of curs as well as the strangely muted scent that was troubling Jaelyn.

All rushing away to leave them alone and isolated in the meadow.

Alone?

His eyes snapped open in surprise.

“Where’s the gargoyle?”

She glanced back at the line of trees, a frown marring her brow.

“He insisted on following the trail of the cur while I returned here.”

Ariyal snorted, not sharing his companion’s regret at Levet’s absence.

“It’s about time he made himself useful.”

“Don’t underestimate him. He has ...” She paused, considering her words, turning back with a faint smile. “Unexpected talents.”

“His talent is to drive a rational man over the edge.”

“No doubt it’s all that testosterone.” Her smile widened as she shifted to place an arm around his waist and tugged his free arm over her shoulders. “It rots the brain.”

Ariyal stiffened as his body reacted to her touch with predictable eagerness, even as his pride violently rebelled at her imitation of a vampire crutch.

It was one thing to offer him sympathy for his injuries.

It was quite another to treat him as if he was a damned invalid.

Not after Morgana le Fey had taken such gruesome delight in tormenting him when he was injured and at his most vulnerable.

“As much as I want to be in your arms, poppet, I hardly think this is the time or the place,” he drawled.

She made a sound of impatience. “We have to find shelter until you can heal.”

He pulled from her grasp, ignoring the weakness that was only growing worse as his injuries continued to bleed.

“ No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to have you carrying me around like I’m some sort of feeble dew fairy.”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a woman and you’re a big, tough, virile man?”

“Because I will never be at the mercy of anyone. Not again.”

His stark words rang through the meadow, and just for a second Jaelyn’s expression softened with understanding. This female knew precisely how it felt to be helpless and abused.

“Fine.” She gave in without an argument. A rare and wonderful occurrence. “Then what’s your plan?”

Plan? He swallowed his urge to laugh. It was a little late in the day for a plan.

What they needed was a fast means of getting him back to fighting strength.

“I want your blood,” he bluntly admitted.

She took a sharp step backward, her face rigid with shock. “For what?”

He arched a brow. Her outrage seemed a little hypocritical considering she was a damned leech.

“To help me heal.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.” He lifted his sword, the moonlight dancing over the silver metal. “I can draw power from my blade.”

“How?”

“Our people have many weapons, but our true Sylvermyst blades were forged before the banishment of the Dark Lord,” he slowly admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. “Which means?”

“The metal was smelted in the pits of hell with silver and the heart of a Lamsung demon.”

Her gaze shot to the sword. “Soul stealers,” she muttered.

He nodded. Lamsungs were rare demons who survived by sucking the life from their enemies.

“The blade absorbs the power of my enemies.”

She turned to meet his gaze, her own expression guarded. “And gives you strength.”

“Precisely.”

A short, oddly tense silence settled between them before Jaelyn took another step backward.

“Stay here.”

He reached out to grab her arm. “Where are you going?”

“To get you blood.” She jerked her head toward the woods. “There’s a pack of hellhounds less than a mile away.”

He regarded her in confusion. “I can use yours. I don’t need much.”

She jerked away, licking her lips. Almost as if she was nervous.

“ No.”

“Why not?”

“I ...” There was another lick of her lips. “I can’t.”

No, not can’t.

Won’t.

The vampire had already made it clear she wouldn’t lower herself to feed from a nasty Sylvermyst. Now she was making it equally clear that she wasn’t going to lower herself to offering her precious blood to restore his powers.

He squared his shoulders, hiding his shredded pride behind a mocking smile as he swept past her rigid body.

“Right. See ya around, poppet.”

“Ariyal, what are you doing?”

“I’ll do my own damn hunting, thank you very much.”

Jaelyn cursed her stupidity as she watched Ariyal march away, his back stiff with wounded pride and his steps not nearly as steady as he would no doubt wish them to be.

She’d blown it.

In spectacular fashion.

She smacked her palm to her forehead. For god’s sake, all she had to do was keep an eye on one Sylvermyst.

A job she should be able to do in her sleep.

But over and over she’d managed to screw up her assignment.

Now she was stuck watching him walk away, furious with her weakness but smart enough to know that for the moment she had no choice.

She couldn’t allow him to take her blood.

Not when she didn’t fully comprehend the ramifications.

Yeah, it was more than likely that the blade would absorb her blood and it would do nothing more than give Ariyal the strength he needed to heal.

Then again ...

She shivered, turning to gaze over the silent cornfields.

What if the blood reacted as if he’d taken it straight from her vein?

The consequences could be nothing short of cataclysmic.

“He’s getting away, you know.”

The disembodied voice sliced through the air a mere second before there was a whiff of brimstone and Yannah suddenly appeared directly in front of her.

Jaelyn yelped as she grabbed her shotgun and pointed it at the intruder. Her finger was ready to squeeze the trigger when she belatedly recognized the heart-shaped face and black eyes that shimmered like chips of ebony in the moonlight.

“Dammit.” Jaelyn shoved the gun back into its holster, glaring at the creature, who calmly stroked her hands down the white silk robe. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Did I?” Yannah blinked with exaggerated innocence. “I thought Hunters were trained to never be caught off guard?”

“I wouldn’t be caught off guard if you walked around like a normal demon,” Jaelyn protested in cold tones, hiding her embarrassment behind a layer of ice. It wasn’t her fault she’d allowed herself to be dangerously distracted, was it? If Ariyal would stop being a pain in the ass then she could concentrate on the important stuff. And he wasn’t the only one to blame. Yannah and her mother Siljar certainly had their share of guilt. “You should wear a bell or something. It’s not polite to just pop in front of people like that.”

Yannah arched her brows. “Well, aren’t you the fussy one?”

“You would be fussy if you were forced to play babysitter to that ...” Jaelyn snapped her lips together, words failing her.

“To that delectable, gorgeous, completely edible ...”

The words returned in a rush. “Temperamental, stubborn, egotistical Sylvermyst.”

“He’s a man.” Yannah shrugged. “They’re all a pain in the backside.”

Well, wasn’t that the freaking truth?

“Some more than others,” she muttered.

“I suppose so.” Yannah appeared to consider the various flaws of the male sex before heaving a deep sigh. “Still, it’s a pity.”

“What is?”

“You cost me one thousand latinum.”

Jaelyn frowned. Had the demon had made an appearance just to mock her?

“Which might make sense if this was Star Trek and we were both Ferengi.”

“I made a bet with my neighbor, but Mother won’t allow me to wager with real money.” She wrinkled her tiny nose. “Besides, Jinns are touchy about their treasures.”

Jinn? Holy crap. Just what neighborhood did this female live in?

She dismissed the inane thought as she concentrated instead on the suspicion she was being led into a trap.

“What were the details of this bet?”

“I said you would have the Sylvermyst leashed and properly house-trained by the end of the week. Maric said you would kill him before you could ever reach the baby.” She pointed a finger at Jaelyn. “Neither of us thought a mighty Hunter would simply throw in the towel. It’s a grave disappointment, I must say.”

Jaelyn narrowed her gaze. Yep. Definitely a trap.

“Do you have a specific reason for ... popping in?” she demanded, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be reporting to me?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten, but for now there’s nothing to report.”

“Nothing?” There was a short, dramatic pause before Yannah smiled with wicked enjoyment. “Nothing at all?”

For the first time in decades, Jaelyn was relieved she couldn’t blush. Did the female know she’d committed the ultimate sin and had sex with her mark?

“Ariyal is still searching for the child,” she said, her words clipped. “We were attacked by zombies. Tearloch’s summoned a crazy-ass spirit wizard from the depths of the underworld, and Sergei might or might not be with them.” She absently stroked the wood stock of her shotgun, not above her own dramatic pause. “Oh, and there’s a gargoyle named Levet who has been following me around like a lost puppy because he’s searching for you.”

The creature’s smile only widened to emphasize the sharply pointed teeth.

“The sweet thing.”

Jaelyn waved an absent hand. “He’s that way if you want to put him out of his misery.”

“No.” She gave a rueful click of her tongue. “Not yet.”

“Fine.” Jaelyn shifted with a growing impatience. “Now you’re all up to date. Was there anything else you needed?”

Yannah drifted closer, her power a tangible force in the air. “I do have a question.”

Jaelyn shivered. “What is it?”

The black eyes surveyed her with an unwavering curiosity. “Shall I tell Mother that you’ve decided to break your contract?”

Jaelyn jerked at the dangerous suggestion. Hunters who failed in their missions didn’t get second chances.

And who the hell knew what happened to anyone stupid enough to fail a contract authorized by the Oracles?

“Of course not.”

“Then you intend to go after the Sylvermyst?”

As if she had a choice?

“Eventually,” she grudgingly promised.

“That seems dangerously vague.”

Not missing the warning in the low voice, Jaelyn lifted her hands in defeat.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she growled, stepping around the tiny demon to stomp across the meadow.

She ignored the sensation of Yannah watching her stiff retreat, instead concentrating on the man who was swiftly becoming the bane of her existence.

Not that she had to use her considerable Hunter skills to follow in Ariyal’s trail.

She could have shut down her senses entirely and been able to find him.

And that, of course, was what scared the hell out of her.

“Christ, why won’t someone just shoot me?” she muttered, picking up her pace as she skirted past the trees and crossed the stream, where she caught the scent of a wounded hellhound.

Obviously Ariyal had managed to find the blood he needed to restore his strength. But instead of returning to her, he was moving even farther away.

At a pace that assured her he wasn’t just pouting.

He was truly trying to leave her behind.

Annoying fairy.

Jumping over a fence that marked the edge of a cow pasture, she at last caught sight of Ariyal as he crossed through the overgrown yard of a farmhouse.

She briefly surveyed the white, two-story home with black shutters and peeling paint before shifting her attention to the nearby chicken coop that lurched to a drunken angle and the more distant sheds and a tin-roofed barn that held the lingering scent of hay.

The place was deserted of humans, although the stale stench of beer cans warned they occasionally used the isolated property to party in private. And she couldn’t detect any nearby demons.

This seemed as good a spot as any to confront the angry Sylvermyst.

With a graceful motion, Jaelyn was leaping on top of the screened-in porch attached to the house and then dropping directly in front of Ariyal.

The Sylvermyst came to a grudging halt, his unbearably beautiful face set in lines of leashed fury.

He was so different from the male vampires who had sought to become her lover, she recognized.

There was no cold calculation. No aloof expertise that offered a clinical pleasure without the messy involvement of emotions.

No.

Ariyal was fierce and temperamental and so passionate he nearly set the air on fire with the force of his emotions.

He was dominating, but he was no bully.

And while he had more than his fair share of male arrogance, there was an inner vulnerability to him that touched her in places she didn’t know she could be touched.

He was exactly what she didn’t need, at exactly the wrong time.

The bronze eyes blazed with breathtaking power. “Get out of my path, vamp.”

She ignored the sudden heat that swirled through the air. She was relatively safe. At least until he called for that damned wooden bow and arrows he could conjure from thin air.

Then things might get dicey.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I don’t discuss my plans with my foes.”

“Are you pouting because I wouldn’t share my blood?”

“You’re the one who insists on treating me like the enemy,” he snarled. “So either do whatever it is you were sent here to do, or get out of the way.”

Foe? Enemy?

Ah, if only.

That she understood.

This messy, confused muddle that plagued her ...

“You need me,” she said abruptly.

He snorted, folding his arms over his chest. The picture of a male at his most stubborn.

“And you call me arrogant?”

She tilted her chin. “Do you know where the babe is?”

“I will.”

“And you can battle your tribesmen as well as the spirit on steroids without me?”

The muscle in his jaw knotted, his pride once again threatened.

“Yes.”

“What about Sergei?”

He shrugged. “What about him?”

“Enough,” she hissed in exasperation. “I’m not going to let you waltz into a trap just because you’re pissed off at me.”

He arched a mocking brow. “And just how do you intend to stop me, Hunter?”

Later Jaelyn would question whether she was overly stressed—it had, after all, been a crazy few days and any vampire was bound to feel a little on edge—or whether it had been temporary insanity.

In that moment, however, there was no thought.

Just mindless, primitive instinct.

Grasping his face in her hands, she leaned forward to kiss him with all the raw hunger that refused to leave her in peace.

“Like this.”