Darkness Unbound Page 3

  Astrid choked on her second tequila shot and wiped at her watering eyes. “No.”

  Christian shrugged. “Didn’t mean to offend. Just trying to figure you out. You’re what? Thirty-something? Single, blond, legs-to-your-chin knockout, and an adrenaline junkie based on your previous job. You know how to handle weapons. That means you’re probably...feisty in the sack.” His eyes slid to her breasts. He drawled, “You like being tied up? If you wanted to—”

  “Lay one finger on me and I’ll cut it off and shove it up your ass.” She stared at him coldly. God, she hated being the new kid on a male-dominated team.

  His leer disappeared. “Bad past relationship?”

  Bad was an understatement. Although, few would qualify a one-night sex marathon as a relationship. She stared at Christian without replying.

  He nodded. “Gotcha. Bad guy experience. Off limits subject. No prob. Let’s dance.” He smiled.

  “No.” She sipped at the shot and eyed Christian. His sleek perfect physique probably had most women shedding thongs in about three seconds flat. He did nothing for her. Part of her was pissed that she couldn’t do easy sex. Christian was the perfect candidate—gorgeous, experienced, and obviously had no long-term expectations. She couldn’t go there.

  He darted his eyes toward the dance floor. “Come on. Dance with me.”

  “No on the dancing. I’m warning you, bad things happen when I get drunk. Right now I’m well on my way to tipsy. Big time.” She had to stop drinking now.

  “Aw, darlin’, I won’t let anything happen. We’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be hung over.” She closed her eyes against the pulsating strobes. Her head throbbed in beat with the light flicker.

  “But fun to watch.” Christian slid another shot her way.

  Two shots later the world tilted when she attempted to stand. She could really use a bathroom trip, but made it as far as sliding back into her the chair, cursing her low tolerance for hard liquor. Her brain buzzed on a high of free floating. She caught sight of a magus she recognized taking a chair twenty yards away. “You invite some of the others?”

  “That’s my little observing soldier. Never know.”

  “That’s Khyan over there, isn’t it? Least, I think that was his name.” Despite the guy’s dark and gorgeous exterior, his uncompromising glower terrified anyone that breached his bubble. She watched Khyan push his wavy dark hair off his face and attempt to melt into the shadows.

  “Yep.” Christian nodded.

  “He doesn’t blend well. Little too stiff. You’ve chugged twice as much as me. Why do you seem fine? My head’s buzzing.” She bit her lip against a giggle and ordered her brain put a lid on that airheaded crap.

  “Once the gods knight you a magus, drugs and alcohol don’t work well any more. Our metabolism’s too fast. That’s why you’ve got to enjoy the buzz now. I’ll be right back. Don’t move. I’ll get us another round.”

  “No, thanks. I’ve had enough. Really.” Had she slurred that?

  He smiled with a little too much impish delight. “Stay here.”

  She relaxed into the chair. Her mind drifted. For the first time in ages the past didn’t press on her brain with the memory of betrayal. And of the moment when her heart shattered into minuscule pieces so small that most remained lost.

  A slick guy one table over flashed her a smile. His jeans and dark button-down suggested a forced relaxed look that was a too obvious aim for super cool. Probably a lawyer or e-trader, given his lack of tan. You’re so harsh. He was attractive, hitting most points on any girl’s check-off list. She should be interested. An image of naked male perfection blazed through her mind, an instant replay of the asshole that ruined her life.

  Mr. Cool-wannabe raised his beer in a silent invite. She shot him a clear not-interested.

  The dance floor DJ announced a dance-off competition. Two semi-naked girls flashed thongs between limber-defying leg kicks, which drew the interest of all around, including the wannabe from the table over.

  She relaxed into her aloneness. How she’d love to tell Zannis to take a one-way trip to hell. Right now. A bravado she hadn’t felt in years pushed her to confront this demon. Energy crackled through her chest. Shut this down or you’ll open one of those magikal doorways again.

  Heat pulsations zipped down her spine and through her arms until her fingertips tingled. She slammed her eyelids shut, fighting the liquor woozy to get control. She had to contain the energy and tamp it down. Focus on anything else.

  Too late.

  The energy expanded the air around her, shooting up the barometric pressure. She pressed on her sinuses.

  The wall beside her disappeared. She should be alarmed to have inadvertently opened the doorway that she’d avoided for almost twelve years—ever since the incident. Once she’d learned to recognize the revving buzz, she extinguished the energy storm by concentrating on anything else.

  Tonight, fortified and filled with alcohol confidence, she could do this, at least she pep-talked herself to believe she could handle it. Finally, she would stop avoiding and close this chapter of her life. She would release the past and start fresh on a new team, fighting daemons—or whatever. Deep down she hoped daemons was a metaphor for evil things in the world. Not real demons. At least all the Scimitar guys seemed to be well-trained soldiers. That kind of mentality she understood and respected.

  As the portal widened like the curtains opening on a stage, she pulled herself to a stand using the edge of the table and faced the doorway. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest to the point she could barely breathe. There he sat.

  Zannis.

  He rested at a heavy solid-wood table whose top was made of a single slice of the widest trunk she’d ever seen. His dark gaze swung her way. His eyes widened. Her chest clenched even tighter. Dark eyes met hers. The arctic blue she remembered didn’t dominate his irises. A sludgy black substance swirled like a lava lamp over the blue, but the whites of his eyes were still visible. No black shield occluded his eyes. His sandy blond hair was longer, cascading well past his shoulder blades.

  Air whooshed from her when her brain forced her to breathe.

  He unfolded to his full height.

  She’d forgotten how colossal he was. He moved like a predator. Lethal, focused. Like the last time, the only time, she’d seen him, he wore all black, which just made him seem larger. The guy had to be six foot five or taller.

  Holy shit, was he gorgeous. Somehow she’d suppressed that part. Her body swayed toward him as he moved close. A shot of pure lust had her body burning hot, and wet instantly.

  She reminded herself, You’re not going there! He rammed a sword through your chest. He’s probably pissed that his attempt to take you out of this world failed.

  He halted at the invisible doorway, which separated them by only a few feet of air. With a hesitant hand he reached toward the void that divided them, and quickly yanked the appendage back. Yeah, can’t cross unless I allow it, she thought and bit her lip.

  His dark eyes snapped to hers as if he’d heard.

  Crap. She’d forgotten he could eavesdrop in her mind.

  They remained locked into a silent stare down. Her body crackled with anticipation, zinging with more life than she’d felt in…she stopped that pitiful analysis of the past twelve years.

  How could she still feel connected to him after what he did? She screamed at herself mentally, careful not to transmit it to him, Get him cleared from your life. And move on.

  His deep voice registered in her brain on their shared mental pathway. Astrid?

  Chills tickled her thighs. Don’t you dare go weak, she told herself. So what if his molasses-slow drawl of her name in that accented, deep timbre implied in two syllables how this alpha male could fulfill her every sexual craving. That is exactly why she’d not allowed a portal opening to face him until now. Come on, girl. You chase dangerous criminals for a living, she thought to herself. He’s no different. He’s a ps
ychopath who’s getting into your psyche. Again.

  And all it took was one word.

  Refusing to acknowledge the intimacy of speaking mentally she said aloud, “That’s right, your attempt to kill me failed.”

  Air hissed through Zannis’s teeth. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his gaze drifted over her shoulder and narrowed.

  “What’s going on? Astrid?” The question boomed behind her.

  She jumped at the intrusion. Khyan and Christian both gaped at the magikal doorway. Christian gripped her forearm and tugged her a few steps away from the doorway.

  Astrid wobbled and pulled for freedom without success. Her gaze darted back to Zannis, who now stared at Christian’s hand where it wrapped around her forearm. The grind of Zannis’s jealousy and aggression flooded her brain.

  She swallowed her gut need to deny Zannis’s misunderstanding that she and Christian were an item and forced her best life-is-great smile. “I’ve got some new friends. I’m about to start a new job. So I hope you rot in hell.”

  I am already there, rouhi.

  Her eyes burned with the pain of unshed tears. That endearment activated long-repressed memories. She forced out, “Good. Then at least someone knows where you belong.”

  She backed away from the doorway and stumbled when her legs tangled with a chair. Christian caught her.

  “Ready to dance?” she asked Christian and ran a hand up his arm, suggestive.

  Zannis growled.

  She waved. “Bye-bye.” And thought to him, We won’t see each other again.

  The portal snapped shut. Her mind howled denial to be cut off from him. Yet, the rational side of her brain congratulated herself for being tough. Why, then, was her gut clenched tight with panic at the thought of never seeing him? She replayed his murder attempt in her mind. The pain. The loss. Devastation roared in her brain. Then, she shut off all thoughts of him.

  She pulled her arm out of Christian’s grip. “Well, that felt great. Thanks. I needed this. If my new life is going to be this fun, then I’m in.”

  “The hell you just put me between you and…whatever that guy was,” Christian said.

  “No worries.” She shrugged.

  “That motherfucker gave off super bad juju vibes. I can hold my own, but what the hell was he?” Christian’s wide eyes suggested high level alarm.

  “He’s just a guy.” She shrugged.

  “Who tried to kill you in the past?” Khyan asked softly as he moved in beside Astrid to touch the now solid wall. “How’d you open that doorway-thing? I watched you run through that power-kill warded wall three days ago to save Cy. That should’ve nixed any special abilities you had.”

  She stared at the now normal wall, her mind churning with adrenaline, alcohol, and heartache. “I had hoped it would. Maybe there was no warded wall, and you were full of deluded crap.”

  “Do you know who that was?” Khyan asked, knowledge swirling in his eyes.

  “Who was that?” Christian demanded.

  “I haven’t seen him in a very long time. That’s Draggon,” Khyan said.

  “That’s not his name.” Astrid slid into a chair. She gripped her forehead between both hands, hoping to stop the room’s eerie alcohol-induced swaying.

  Khyan whispered, “He told you his real name?”

  She glanced up. The world shifted, and she swallowed the bile tickling the back of her throat. A chill of dread slithered through her mind. “He’s history. Now that I’ve said good-bye, he will stay gone.”

  Khyan sat across from her and cocked his head. “I don’t think leaving you alone is on his agenda. So, what is his real name? I don’t recall that he ever told me, or, if so, I forgot.”

  “Whatever.” Astrid raised her eyebrows, daring him to push her.

  Khyan chuckled. “Whatever? Odd name.” He shrugged. “I have no clue where the gods locked him up. He was a nightmare when last here. He went from a cool-headed religious fanatic to complete psycho in the blink of an eye. Lots dead…okay, all black-magik whackos, but even so he was like a rampage killer on Hashishins. Then there are his pets, which are his special gift from the gods—his mojo you could say—now those monsters are straight up scary. But for sure he never showed interest in women during his time in this realm. He wasn’t gay, but definitely not like Christian. No offense, man, but you’re a slut. Even so, I thought Draggon was…” He trailed off.

  “Was what?” Astrid asked, fighting the alcohol buzz for lucidity. Khyan’s tone suggested something she probably didn’t want to know, but now needed to, desperately.

  “Nothing,” Khyan said.

  Christian paced behind Khyan.

  Astrid leaned close to Khyan and yelled, “Was what?”

  Khyan folded his arms in front of his chest. “Married.”

  Married? Shock blasted her heart wide open. She thought she’d sutured the goddamned organ shut years ago. Apparently, Zannis wasn’t done inflicting pain.

  Khyan reached for one of the shots Christian had deposited on the table and drank. “I’m pretty sure he mentioned it at one point. I can remember past lives. Most of us can’t, but I’m special. I remember him in particular.” Khyan’s face lit up like a teenager about to get wind of a juicy rumor. “Was it you he married?”

  “No,” Astrid replied dully, despising her shell-shocked tone. Married? She sucked for air. Her brain screamed at her lungs: work. Her mind churned with disbelief, and alcohol haze. At least his assassination attempt made sense now. She’d been the dirty secret that needed to go away.

  Christian stopped pacing and sat next to Khyan. “What’s that guy’s deal?”

  “Draggon got one chance at being a magus back at the beginning,” Khyan replied, still eyeing her curiously. “The guy had a long run before he went nuts. A very long run. Thousands of years without ever dying or being reincarnated. None of us ever made it that long. No one understood how he survived so long without finding his senariai, at least I don’t think he found his soulmate. He was married…maybe that was her. Who knows.” He shrugged apologetically to Astrid. “He became the one to get the magi that didn’t remember the past caught up, and lead us in the ways of the gods. The religion stuff, I mean. Fighting-wise, he was good. I mean, I can kick ass better than all of you—”

  “You are so full of shit. I bet on Javen any day over you.” Christian rolled his eyes.

  “Javen? Right. Anyway, Draggon was lethal. He could go it alone with almost any daemon, even those evil European shits. But I don’t know his full deal. He’s the only magus to get permanently taken off duty when he went crazy. Killed a lot of Hashishins. Hunted them, but not like Ashor’s inadvertent blackout issue a few months ago. He stalked them. The guy went on more than one mass murder spree. I don’t think it was kem-seki that caused him to cross the line, though.”

  “What’s kim-ski?” Astrid asked in a desperate attempt to distract her mind from the M-bomb.

  Christian replied, “The poetic explanation is it’s what happens when the energy emitted by daemons slowly eats away at your soul. After years of battles, you’ll lose your moral compass. The non-poetic reason is, once you become a magus, so long as you’re out there fighting daemons you’re on a slow countdown to turning into a crazy killing machine unable to tell right from wrong unless you find your matched soul or senariai. Then we’re saved. ’Course you as a girl, I don’t know what we call your soul mate.”

  Astrid grabbed one of the shots and sucked it down. “How do you know it wasn’t kem-seki that made him go nuts?”

  Khyan sucked his lip through his teeth before replying, “Draggon seemed too right in the head. He only did targeted killings. Not random. None of us were strong enough to take him down between his age and his pets. He beat a couple of us to shit in our attempt to stop him when he left to hunt, but he never turned on us. The older we are, the better we are at all of this—the magik, seichim, our mojo, spells…all of it. He was also first generation magus, which means still half-god. Harder to die
like that, but not immortal. The gods stepped in and took him away. I thought he was dead, in Osiris’ Kingdom or whatever.” Khyan paused. His gaze slid to Christian and then back to Astrid. “I think C would agree that Draggon just eye-fucked you about the whole time you had that doorway open. Soooo…you and he get it on at some point in the past?” Khyan leaned on his elbows over the tabletop toward her and grinned.

  Astrid glared, daring him to push it. She and Zannis was a closed subject.

  Khyan turned to Christian. “He just painted a fat red bull’s-eye on your forehead, man. I’d be ball-shriveling scared.”

  “Great. Some ancient Egyptian super bastard’s got a hard-on to kill me. Fucktastic thank you, Astrid, for trying to show you a good time.” Christian drank two shots and cursed.

  “I warned you weird stuff happens when I get drunk.” She gripped the edge of the table when the room did a whirlybird. “I’m roasted…I mean toasted.”

  Khyan chuckled.

  Astrid stared into Christian’s glower. “He can’t reach me here. He’s not coming back. No need to get your nuts in a wad. You’re safe. I’m just going to lay my head down.” The world turned black.

  Chapter Three

  She lives, Zannis thought. And she lies.

  He backpedaled until his calves hit the chair. And collapsed to a sit. He stared at the now solid wall where she’d stood seconds earlier. He might be trapped in a time a thousand years before hers, but time passed the same for both of them. Twelve years. Over four thousand days he’d waited for a glimpse of her blue eyes.

  She shows up now?

  An hour ago he’d signed away his soul because he’d assumed Astrid to be dead. His will to exist in this prison ended the moment he changed her status from possibly-alive to gone-forever.

  She’s alive! His chest clamped tight. He slammed his eyes closed and focused on deep breaths to unlock his lungs—in, out, in, out. Nothing about that encounter signaled good-bye. Triumph sang in his veins.

  His body ached as foreign sensation flooded its previously vacant domain. Heavy arousal now burned his southern hemisphere. Tonight this wasn’t good. The nightmare coming his way shortly would misinterpret this as desire for her.