Burning Alive

Page 30

Drake had been to this particular house before. It had been clean and well stocked with fresh produce and meat, rather than the typical nonperishable foods he usually found in Sentinel houses. It had been a long time since his last meal and he hoped that whoever cared for this place was still as conscientious as before. Despite his grief and sorrow, his body couldn’t keep going without fuel, and he had to keep going.
“We’ll get some rest here,” he told Helen, forcing his voice to come out steady and calm. “Then I’ll take you to my home.”
Helen gave a weary nod and slid out of the van. Drake found the key taped to the back of the porch light and unlocked the door. Rather than the stale smell of disuse, the house smelled of wildflowers and fresh-baked bread. His stomach rumbled in appreciation.
“You hungry?” he asked Helen.
She nodded. “Not really. I’m about to fall over.”
“Let’s see if there’s something quick in here.”
Drake opened the fridge and found a giant bowl of salad and a casserole dish with a note taped to the top that gave heating instructions for the lasagna. Whoever stocked this house deserved a raise and a promotion.
He set the salad on the counter and slid the lasagna in the oven, following the carefully written instructions. It didn’t take long to find plates and forks and the loaf of still-warm bread sitting on the counter.
“I feel like I’m invading someone’s home,” said Helen.
“You’re not. The Sentinels own the property and pay people to keep it up. It’s here so we have a safe place to rest.”
“Good policy.” He could hear her weariness rasping her voice.
Helen washed her hands and dished up some of the salad for both of them.
“We’ve had a lot of years to get it right. I still remember when the only comforts we had were whatever our horses could carry.”
Helen stilled in the process of filling his bowl with lettuce. “How old are you?”
“Old,” he said. “Really old.”
“You’re starting to freak me out a little.”
“Which is why I’m not going to tell you exactly how old. You’re exhausted. We’ll eat now and I’ll answer questions after you’ve slept.”
The fact that she didn’t argue proved just how tired she was.
The rising sun streamed in through the kitchen windows and he could clearly see the lines of strain around her mouth. Her borrowed clothes were dirty and hanging on her frame. She sat slumped, looking fragile. At the end of her strength. Defeated.
He knew what that was like and it made him want to pull her into his arms and make all the bad things go away. He wanted to find a way to show her the good parts of his life. Convince her that it wasn’t all fighting and blood and death. He wanted to teach her what they could be together—a powerful force to drive the Synestryn back into their own black world and save the human race from destruction. But he feared that once she learned that there were other men she could choose, she would look upon their time together as tainted. She’d want a fresh start with a man who would be more careful with her. One who would ease her into their world and show her the joy it was to be a Theronai.
When she found out that she could have some other man, he might lose her. The thought made his hands curl into fists and he knew that he would prevent that from happening with every breath in his body. She was his and he was keeping her. He would find a way to make up for the pain and terror she’d suffered tonight. He’d take the time to train her so that she was confident in her power. With any luck at all, they’d never find Kevin’s sword and she’d be bound to him forever.
Drake stilled as the thought entered his mind, taking root. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that to Kevin. He took his oath to protect humans seriously, and allowing Kevin’s sword to roam free in Synestryn hands was in direct violation of that oath. None of the Synestryn they’d seen in the mine had hands to wield the sword, but eventually, one that did would claim it as his own. Or worse yet, one of the Synestryn powerful enough to use magic would find it, use its power to fuel his magic. A demon that strong could release all the dark souls that had been slain by Kevin’s blade and countless humans would die as those souls took over their bodies.
Drake couldn’t let that happen. Not even if it meant a lifetime free of pain and a woman by his side. The idea was tempting, but not worth what betraying his oath would cost him.
He shoved the grim thoughts away and looked at Helen. Her head was propped on her outstretched arm and she was asleep.
He’d pushed her too hard. It was time to make up for bad behavior.
“Helen,” he said quietly, and waited for her to open her eyes before he picked her up. He didn’t want to scare her anymore. He wanted her adrenaline to stay nice and low so she could sleep. Then they would talk.
She gave him a startled look, but then subsided and laid her head against his chest. Holding her felt so good he didn’t want to put her down. He didn’t know how he was going to find the strength to tell her everything. The secrets he’d kept from her would drive her away from him once she knew the truth.
“Do you want to eat before you sleep?” he asked her.
She shook her head, and her silky braid rubbed against his arm. “Too tired.”
Drake carried her into one of the bedrooms and set her on the king-sized bed. Most of the Sentinel houses had big beds because the Sentinels tended to be big men. This one happened to be draped in a rich royal blue, and matching, light-blocking shades covered the windows to allow for easy sleep during the day.
Helen rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“The closet and drawers are full of clean clothes labeled with sizes and the bathroom should be stocked with shampoo, new toothbrushes, toothpaste, that kind of thing. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Where will you be?”
Drake pointed to the door directly across the hall. “In there.” Unless you’d like me to stay here. He barely kept himself from saying the words. He wanted to hold her close, to give her comfort and take his own in return. He was confident enough in his manhood to admit he needed a good dose of comfort right now. Things were all messed up.
Thomas was dead.
His chest ached for his lost friend and the burden his death would bring upon all those who had loved him. So many people had loved him.
Helen stood and wrapped her arms around his body. Until then, he’d forgotten about their link. He still wasn’t used to it. He’d let his feelings go unchecked and she’d felt his need for comfort.
She snuggled her cheek against his chest and stroked her fingers down his back in a soothing motion. She didn’t say any mundane words of comfort or empty words of sympathy. She just held him and let him know he was not alone. It was more than he deserved, but he wasn’t going to let her stop.
He held her against him and breathed in the scent of her hair. Lavender. From her bath last night.
The memory of her naked in the tub—naked in his arms—came rushing back to him in all its inappropriateness. He felt his body harden and he shifted to shield her from his untimely lust, while at the same time, he shielded his thoughts from it as well. He had no business thinking about what his body wanted at a time like this. And even if he did, Helen was too tired for the kind of loving he wanted to give her.
Drake pulled himself away, feeling like he was leaving a chunk of his soul behind with the effort it took. “Get a shower if you want. Try to sleep if you can. I’ve got to make some calls, so I’ll be awake for a while if you need anything.”
“Are we safe here?”
Such an innocent question, but it made his heart break a little. He’d put her through too much fear and pain and he knew there was only more to come.
“Yes. We’re safe during the day. We’ll be home before nightfall and that place is a fortress. Nothing gets in that we don’t want to get in.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Helen woke hours later to a feeling that something was wrong. She opened her eyes, but stayed still, listening. It took her a minute to remember her surroundings. It took her twice as long to remember why she was here and the events that led up to this point.
It all came rushing back and Helen had to stifle a groan. So much pain and blood and death. She didn’t know how Drake could stand living a life like this.
That flicker of unease that had woken her increased and she tried to figure out what it was. Something was wrong and she needed to fix it.
The bedroom was dimly lit through the dark curtains and everything was washed with royal blue light. Her hair was still damp from the quick shower she’d taken and the soft sheets slid over her naked breasts as she breathed. She hadn’t had the energy to dress after using the last of her strength to shower, so she’d locked the bedroom door, crawled into bed naked, and passed out.
She couldn’t hear any noise, but she still felt that same disquiet itching in her mind. She pulled on the big flannel bathrobe she’d found hanging in the bathroom and quietly opened her door.
Across the hall, the door to Drake’s room was open. She saw him kneeling on the floor. His chest and feet were bare and she could see that the tree covering the left side of his body had somehow changed. Even more shiny new leaves had sprung from the branches and she was sure that she could see them sway with some unseen wind. There was no sign he’d ever cut himself—not even so much as a scab. Beside him was his belt and scabbard, which she could see now that it wasn’t attached to his body. In front of him lay the sword, gleaming in the dim light of his bedroom. The curtains in there were a deep crimson and they cast a bloodred glow along the naked blade.
His eyes were closed and he held himself in an almost prayerful position. Maybe he was praying. She wasn’t sure. For all she knew, this was how he slept.
What she was sure of was that she’d found the source of that disquiet. It was grief tempered with acceptance and it was coming from Drake, trickling into her through the luceria around her throat. He ached with the loss of his friend, and she could feel the raw, throbbing wound it left inside him. Right now she wanted nothing more than to find a way to ease his pain.
Helen reached up and stroked the supple band, marveling at whatever magic had created it. In the mine, she’d been sure the thing had raised blisters on her throat, but she’d checked in the mirror and her skin was fine. She must have imagined the burns or exaggerated what she thought she’d felt.
She still wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea of knowing he could sense her emotions through the thing, but right now she was grateful for the connection. Without it, she never would have been able to feel the depth of his grief. None of it came through in his expression and she instinctively knew he’d try to hide this part of himself from her.
She barely knew him, but the need to offer him comfort was overwhelming. He’d suffered so much over his life, she didn’t want him to suffer anymore. She needed to hold him and give him the basic animal comfort of human contact. Let him know he wasn’t alone.