Awaken Me Darkly

He gripped my ass more tightly, fitting me snugly against the thickness of his erection. I ground into him, mimicking the motions of sex, all the while loathing our clothing. My tongue moved against his in sync with the movements of our bodies. I shook with the force of my need, oh, how I shook. My control teetered on the brink of elimination. I’d never experienced anything like this, never experienced anything so intense, as if I needed him to survive.



What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t allow this. I had to regain command of myself.



I shoved away from him, but he just rolled me to my back and fit himself more snugly against me. The apex of my thighs cradled his erection. Before I could utter a single protest, his lips once again took possession of mine. The softness of his lips…the lingering wine on his tongue…I almost caved. Almost.



I jostled him to his back.



“Enough,” I said, knowing hunger still glittered in my eyes.



His eyelids were at half-mast, and his features glowed, actually glowed, with ardor. He was elemental and raw, and the hard length of his body pressed against me, demanding attention. Duty and desire and fear warred within me.



Ultimately, duty and fear won.



I hated myself for what I was about to do, but even as I inwardly cursed myself, I reached out with my fingertips and latched on to a nearby porcelain bowl. Sometime during our kiss, I’d lost my anger, and I didn’t want to actually hurt him.



“I need to leave now,” I said. And then I smashed the dish against his temple.



His eyes went wide, then closed. His body jerked, then stilled.



I stayed where I was for a long moment, just watching him. A bump grew on his forehead, only to quickly disappear. His color remained good. With a shaky hand, I reached out and placed my palm over his heart. A gentle thump, thump greeted me.



Guilt wound through me.



“I’m sorry,” I said. I leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. I stood. I didn’t know what part of the city I was now in. I wasn’t even wearing shoes, and I was 99 percent sure I looked like a porn star. Still, if I had to, I was going to drag this rock-solid alien outside and flag down a car. And if I couldn’t find a car, I would drag him all the way to the station house on foot. There I’d stun him, then haul him to the hospital. After that, I’d lock him up until he gave me all the information I needed to find Atlanna. No more evasions.



I made a quick search for a phone unit. Didn’t find one. However, I did find a Road Kill special, an antique that used bullets instead of fire, and confiscated it. I strapped the barrel to my waist.



I stepped behind my captive and locked my arms around his chest, propping his back against my chest. Slowly I dragged him to the front door, each backward step I took requiring every ounce of my strength. The man weighed more than Dallas. Thankfully, the servants remained out of sight, just as Kyrin had promised.



Inside the foyer, I eased Kyrin to the marble floor. I turned the knob with my free hand and shoved open the front door. A cold wind immediately blustered around me, and a shiver raked my spine. Damn. I’d forgotten about the snow. If I had to, I could go without a coat, but I desperately needed shoes. Kneeling in front of Kyrin, I removed his boots and socks, then fit both on my own feet. They were too big, way too big, but they would have to work.



Thankfully the closet beside me boasted an assortment of men’s coats, so I wouldn’t have to go without one. I tore the one nearest me from its hanger and secured the heavy wool around my shoulders, then did the same for Kyrin.



That done, I once more gathered my burden and hauled him outside.



The moment I stepped beyond the threshold, a sharp, piercing ache began at my left bicep, exactly where the armband rested, then traveled and grew in intensity throughout the rest of my body. I was able to ignore the pain at first, but that soon proved impossible. Too much pain. Sharp, prickling. Everywhere. Surely my head would burst. I doubled over and dropped to my knees, barely feeling the ice as nausea churned inside my stomach.



“Did I not warn you of this?” Kyrin sighed beside me.



I gasped. “Why…aren’t…you…unconscious?”



“I heal quickly, remember?” He trudged to his feet.



The torrent of agony continued to beat at me, hammering, eroding my determination with the savage intensity of a tempest. I smashed my lips together to keep from screaming. I didn’t even think to protest when he draped his arm around my shoulders, helped me stand, and led me back toward the house. Along the way, he confiscated the gun I’d found. I couldn’t summon the energy to care.



When we eased inside, my pain instantly vanished. My head cleared. I drew in several shaky breaths. Kyrin positioned himself in front of me, and I pulled my gaze from his bare feet up his black trousers, and glared into his amused gaze.



“Take this damn thing off me.” I attempted to rip the cold metal away, yet it remained firmly in place, snaked around my arm.



“We still have much to discuss, so you will remain my guest. This I have already explained.”



“It’s you who refuses to finish our conversation.” My hands clenched into fists. “You will remove this band, or I will—”



“What?” He grinned. His hair was plastered to his head and gleamed with oil. There was a noodle stuck to his neck. “Try again to render me unconscious with a bowl of food?”



A muscle ticked below my eye. This situation was not amusing to me. “Don’t you ever kiss me again. Do you hear me?”



Grin slowly fading to a frown, he reached out and caressed a fingertip across my cheek. “We must find common ground or many of your people will die.”



I grabbed his jacket lapels and jerked him closer. “Is that a threat?”



“It is reality.”



“Why do you even care? You’re an other-worlder. Why do you care about human lives?”



“I live on this world, Mia. It is my home. I want peace with your people, and that will never be achieved when we are blamed for every crime.”



I pushed out a sigh, losing the darkest heat of my rage. “I’m willing to work with you, okay, but you have to compromise with me.”



“Compromise? All of your compromises aid you, no one else. You wish me to save your friend, yet remain unwilling to set my sister free.”



We stared at each other, both considering the other’s words.



Finally, he rubbed a weary hand down his face. “We are getting nowhere with this conversation,” he said, his voice turning deep, rhythmic, hypnotic. “You will sleep.”



That tart, cloying fragrance I was coming to loathe engulfed me. I fought against what I knew was coming, but darkness propelled me into sweet oblivion.



CHAPTER 16



My dreams were erotic.



Kyrin slowly peeled away my clothing, and I did the same to him. His breath was hot on my skin as he licked my neck, nipped at my chin. His muscles were hard and taut, and I knew he fought for control. That he wanted to take me, claim me.



“Don’t stop,” I said on a moan, arching into him. Only now, in this dream world, could I admit my deepest desires. “Don’t stop.”



“Always you command,” he said on a ragged laugh, his voice heavily accented, “but worry not. I will never stop. Promise me you will never leave me,” he said. “I need you too badly. I crave you too fiercely.”



He kissed me, and I welcomed his tongue. He always tasted so good, like a forbidden drug I shouldn’t have but couldn’t resist. I whispered his name.



The sound awakened me.



My eyelids popped open. My heartbeat was thundering in my chest, and my breathing was ragged.



When I calmed long moments later—though I didn’t think my heartbeat would ever slow—I scanned my surroundings. I was in Kyrin’s bed. Alone. Sweat soaked my gown to my skin, but at least my wrists and ankles were free.



Had Kyrin experienced a similar dream? I wondered. That dream had been more vivid than any of the others, almost as if he truly had been there with me. I didn’t know what to think of that.



I stumbled from the warmth and softness of the mattress and padded to the window. The carpet plumped beneath my feet. My shoes were missing; well, the shoes I’d stolen from Kyrin. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and swept aside the velvety curtains. Moonlight spilled across the night, painting the snow-covered forest with muted gold and silver. Leafless trees sprang from the earth in a wide arch, almost kissing the heavens.



“Where am I?” I muttered. I’d never seen so many trees or so much uncultivated land.



A lone figure caught and held my gaze as it emerged from the house. A man. He was tall, his white hair blending with the snow as he disappeared inside a two-story brick garage. Kyrin. I sucked in a breath. A moment later, a black Jag sped from the garage and onto a gravel road.



Where was he going? I lifted my hand to the window, and the chilly glass against my over-warm skin made me gasp. What was he planning to do?



For the moment, the answers didn’t matter, so I wasn’t going to worry about them. He was gone, and I could use that to my advantage, could hopefully find some sort of outside communication device.



Servants milled around all the rooms, going about their duties. No one said a word to me while I explored the entire house. An hour later, I still had not found a single phone unit or computer. I approached a servant, intent on questioning her, but her eyes widened in horror and she raced away. The others soon followed.



“I give up,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. Damn, damn, damn. I stomped back into Kyrin’s bedroom and plopped onto the bench beside the hearth. I used the time alone to work at the armband, trying to somehow unwind it. The metal remained firm and unyielding.



While I was distracted, a female servant emerged from her hiding place and rushed to the door, a haze of white hair and violet froth. She slammed the heavy wood, then clicked the lock in place.



“I need to talk to you,” I called, already on my feet.



Racing footsteps greeted my ears. I dropped back into my seat.



Two hours passed. Two miserable hours.



I wrote down every experiment I could think of that could be performed on babies. By the time I got to number six, I wanted to vomit. My hatred for Atlanna increased. My desire to kill her increased.



I had to find her. Stop her. Destroy her.



Why wouldn’t Kyrin tell me more about her and her experiments? Was he afraid of her? No, the man didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. Not even me. I sighed. How the hell was I going to find her?



Hinges squeaked as someone slowly opened the bedroom door. I jolted to my feet.



“Do not hurt me,” an Arcadian woman said, peeking inside. “I come bearing food and drink. I mean you no harm.”



My shoulders sagged with disappointment. Had it been Kyrin, I could have beat out some of my frustrations. “Enter,” I said.



She did so wearily. She wore the same type of open, feminine gown that I wore, only hers was light purple, just like her eyes. She radiated youth and vibrancy, even while she trembled with fear.



“Do you have a moment?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”



Without a word and without a glance in my direction, she placed a tray piled high with fruits and wine atop the desk, the sweet scent of melon wafting all around her, then sprinted from the room.



“Merla,” I heard her say, and the bolts slid in place once again. Obviously the word meant lock.



“I guess not,” I muttered.



Just to prove how ridiculous locks were, I snatched up a small, solid sculpture and stalked to the door. I intended to slam the thick metal into the door’s hinges, but before I reached it, I felt my eyes heat—actually heat as I glared—and the hinges shattered of their own accord, raining like broken glass onto the silver rug. The entrance fell open. I heard the woman yelp and watched her back disappear as she scampered down the hall, putting as much distance between us as she could.



Horrified, I dropped the sculpture to the floor and heard the heavy thump, thump of dismantled pieces. I rubbed my eyes, but they had already cooled.



What the goddamn hell was wrong with me? How was I doing things like that? I knew I was different, but these things were too different. These things were freaky different.



A tremor raced down my limbs. I’d pretended the slowdown thing hadn’t happened. I’d pretended the beer incident hadn’t happened, and neither had happened again. This wouldn’t happen again either. Like the others, I’d pretend it had never happened.



Determined, I walked back to the desk and sat. Work. I needed to work. I spent twenty minutes constructing a chart about Kyrin. If anything could consume my thoughts, it was that man.



He wanted my trust, and honestly, despite everything, I was well on my way to giving it. He desired his sister’s release. That showed loyalty. He hadn’t hurt me physically, even though I’d knocked him around. That showed discipline. He’d even helped me through my panic at being tied. That showed compassion. He wanted to atone for past sins, and saw killing Atlanna as a way to do that. That showed remorse.



He operated on his own scale of justice and righteousness. He was a law unto himself. But Kyrin wouldn’t kill an innocent. He’d had numerous chances to kill me, and I was far from innocent. He’d always been careful not to hurt me.



I was ready to talk to him again. I needed to talk to him again. But the wall clock continued to tick away the midnight hours without his return.



CHAPTER 17



I spent several hours prowling through the house, this time searching for clues about Kyrin, about Atlanna. I learned Kyrin had expensive tastes—in everything. Even underwear. He was meticulous and didn’t like clutter, and he left nothing personal out in the open. He was a guarded man. And very smart.