Falling Blind

“What do you mean? Is there a chance you’ll quit breathing?”



He hated to make her worry. “I’ll be fine.”



Cain sat so he wouldn’t fall down and make a fool of himself again. Slowly, with great care, he let go of her hand. As soon as the tip of her finger left his, pain slammed into him, wringing the breath from his body. Every muscle inside of him went tight and hard, straining against the force of so much agony. A feral growl burst out of him as he fought to breathe. Little, stuttering breaths filled his lungs, but it wasn’t nearly enough oxygen to keep him going. The edges of his vision faded into gray mist. The couch beneath him rattled against the floor. He tried to regain some kind of control, but it was no use. He couldn’t fight it. There was too much agony to fight. So he did the only thing he could do—he gave in and let the darkness have him.



* * *



Rory freaked.



Cain was shaking like he was having a seizure, and his skin had gone pasty white. Veins stood out in his neck, and the necklace he wore seemed to have gone still and dead. All color had vanished, but at least she could see his heart beating in the band’s shiny surface.



She clenched her fingers together to keep from reaching for him. His big body thrashed on her couch until it bumped against the wall, and then he went still.



His chest rose and fell fast with his labored breathing. Sweat dotted his forehead, but she didn’t dare touch him enough to take off his leather jacket for fear she’d make a bad situation worse.



She stared at him for several long minutes, aching with indecision. He seemed to be through the worst of it, but she could still sense his pain, as if it were coming off of him in palpable waves.



She didn’t know how to help him. She wasn’t like the woman she’d seen in his memories. She had no power.



And that pissed her off.



He’d said that power would be hers once she met the right magical guy, and while all of that had the ring of truth to it, she felt as though something was off. He’d purposefully left something out.



As Rory tried to figure out what that omission might be, she occupied herself with work. But no matter what she did to distract herself, her gaze kept sliding back to Cain. He was sprawled on her grandma’s dainty yellow couch, this thick arms and legs hanging off. He looked completely uncomfortable, but she didn’t dare try to adjust his body.



She could see through his eyes intermittently, but it wasn’t as intrusive as usual. His eyes were mostly closed, and the silent darkness trickling from him was calming. As long as she could see that darkness, she knew he was still alive.



Minutes ticked by slowly. She was too distracted to accomplish much. She read e-mail, chatted with one of her online friends, saying nothing about the recent, gargantuan developments in her life.



Lunchtime came and went, and Cain didn’t so much as shift positions as she heated and ate a frozen meal.



Finally, after struggling with herself for too long, she gave into the urge to stare at him.



He really was a fine-looking man, carved from stark angles and hard planes. Even in his sleep she could see the smooth ridges of muscles along his chest where his jacket gaped open. His dark hair fell carelessly across his forehead, tempting her to brush it back. Stubble shadowed his jaw, but it was a good look for him, making the thought of beard burn more appealing than she’d ever thought possible.



She really wanted to touch him. The effort to resist was all but consuming her willpower.



His luceria had reacted to her, just as he’d said it would for those men who could offer her the kind of power the woman in Cain’s memories had. Even now, simply reaching close to him, letting her fingers hover an inch from his skin, she could feel energy tingling just out of reach. The closer she got, the more the colors danced inside his ring and necklace.



So pretty.



Rory stared for a long time until her eyes burned from not blinking. She’d never seen anything like it before, and the urge to slip that necklace on and see how it would look on her was nearly overwhelming.



She should have been afraid of the unknown, but it just wasn’t in her. As many horrible things as she’d seen—as much as she hated having monsters haunting her every move—she craved more knowledge. There were things she’d learned about in the last few hours she hadn’t even known existed. How many more things could a man like Cain show her?



He’d said he wasn’t right for her, but he’d never said why. And it wasn’t like she was going to promise any man more than a few days. A trial run to see if she even liked having access to that kind of power. For all she knew it would hurt or make her itch uncontrollably or turn her skin orange.



As trapped as she was out here all alone, she craved new experiences. And being able to wield magic was definitely that.



Excitement hummed through her, vibrating under her skin.



What harm could there possibly be in giving it a shot? Cain seemed like a decent guy, if a little barbaric. He certainly hadn’t hurt her, though he’d had ample opportunity. In fact, he seemed so earnest in wanting to help her. Surely he wouldn’t mind if she practiced with him first before giving others a test drive.



Patches of sunlight slid across the carpet as Rory sat there in indecision. Nana’s clocked ticked away, counting the seconds. The heater switched on and off again. The ice maker dumped out another batch of ice in the freezer.



Her instincts were pounding inside of her, chanting, take it, take it.



She wanted to listen. She wanted to know what it felt like to have that pretty necklace lie close to her skin. It belonged to her. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did.



Rory moved closer and stood over him. His pulse beat beneath the iridescent band, strong and steady. Her own heart pounded twice as fast as she undid the tangle of chokers and chains around her neck. They landed in a shiny pile on the carpet, discarded and forgotten.



She knelt beside him, driven to get closer. She couldn’t see any latch or closure, so she used the tip of her fingernail to carefully lift it up so she could slide it around without touching him. The instant her fingers gripped the slippery surface, it came loose in her hand.



His body’s heat clung to the necklace, sinking into her skin. It was smooth, heavy. The ends were blunt, as if they’d been sliced. She wasn’t sure how she was going to fasten it, but the thing was buzzing with magic, and her instincts were listening.



Rory moved her hair and slid the band around her neck. As soon as she did, the ends snapped shut with an audible click.



Cain’s eyes opened as if someone had stabbed him. He jolted upright, and his gaze zeroed in on her throat. A look of intense, desperate longing covered his face, and he rose to his feet in a fluidly graceful movement.



He stared down to where she knelt beside the couch. He was silent and so serious she started to wonder if she’d made a mistake.



“I’m sorry,” she whispered.



“It’s too late for that,” he said, his stare fierce and determined.



He stripped his jacket off and tossed it aside. A second later, his shirt was gone, too, and he stood there, his bare chest consuming every speck of her attention.



His body was beautiful, eliciting a deep, primal response from places inside of her she didn’t even know she had. Thick layers of muscle bulged on his big frame. Without his clothes, she could see that the width of his shoulders was not due to any kind of padding or tailor’s tricks. It was all him.



She wanted it to be all hers—to let her hands roam over him, lingering over every smooth ridge and hollow. Even thinking about touching him was enough to make her hands sweat and shake.



A giant tree tattoo covered his chest, its bare branches reaching up over his shoulder. With every deep breath, the limbs swayed, making it look alive. Whoever had put this on him was a true artist.



Like a woman in a trance, she rose to her feet. Her finger settled against the tree, and she was shocked to feel the smooth heat of his skin rather than rough tree bark. She traced one branch, watching the others move like they were trying to get closer to her.



Cain drew in a deep breath and his whole body shuddered.



Rory looked up at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “I’m sorry. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to touch you.”



But she wasn’t going to stop now. His skin felt too good against her hand. Warmth slid up her arm and encircled her throat where his necklace lay. It seeped into her, making muscles that had been tense for way too long unclench.



A languid, sleepy heat suffused her. It felt like sunlight in winter—precious and so welcome, she didn’t even think to question it.



Rory felt his muscles shift under her palm, heard the rasp of metal on metal.



He drew his sword.



She should have been afraid. Somewhere in the rational part of her brain warnings were going off, but she felt too good to listen to them.



Cain moved her hand from where it rested over his heart and used the sword to cut himself.



The horror of seeing his blood drip down his skin shook her out of her stupor. “What the hell are you doing?”



“My life for yours, Rory.”



“What?”



“You took my luceria. I question the wisdom of your choice, but you made it. Without force or compulsion. There’s no turning back now.”



Chapter 9



Cain couldn’t think straight. The hope he’d been trying to fight off since meeting Rory had won. It exploded inside of him, shouting in celebration.



Rory had taken his luceria. He didn’t understand why she’d done such a thing, but the deed was done. Her recklessness had backed her into this corner, and Cain had dreamed of this moment for too long to control his deep, visceral reaction to her choice.



She stood before him, quivering, representing everything he’d ever wanted. He wanted to push her—to demand she hurry and finish tying herself to him. But he’d seen enough of her now to know that his Rory did not like to be pushed.



This moment was as important to her as it was to him, and while his mind was still reeling from the implications of her actions, he had to give her room to do as she willed.



“Give me your vow,” he said, his voice so rough he barely recognized it.



“I don’t know what to say.”



“I can’t tell you. It has to be your decision alone.” Because if he gave her any advice, it would be selfish, tying her to him permanently so they’d have forever to work out their differences—whatever they may be.



“How long does it take to learn to use magic like that woman you showed me?”



“Years. Decades.”



He wanted more time than that, but he’d take what she chose to give. And he’d use that time to prove to her that he was worthy of her, despite his past failures. For her he’d find a way to be a better man.



She swallowed, and the movement brought his eyes back to the luceria around her throat. It was too big for her still. The vow was not yet complete and the magic that would bond them not yet invoked.



“That’s a long time.”



“Not really. Not when you live as long as we do.”



He could see skepticism flash in her dark eyes. She still didn’t believe him about who and what she was, but she would. Eventually, she would see that he’d never lie to her about such things.