Find Me in Passion: Mal and Christina's Story, Part 3 Page 8

  And immortality can last a long, long time in a torture chamber.

  The realization haunts me, and I stumble. I reach for Mal, but even as I do another spear zings out from the end of the hallway. Its trajectory is straight and true—and I know with absolute surety that it is going to impale me.

  There is a blur of motion and almost instantaneously I am shoved sideways. I slam hard onto the ground, and by the time I have shifted to look up again, I see Mal get thrown backwards, thrust hard against the wall by the force of the spear that he has taken dead-on in the heart.

  I scream, the sound ripping my throat and piercing the air even as he stumbles, then falls to the ground.

  I crawl to him, clawing my way across the ground to his side. He looks at me, the light fading from his gray eyes, and when he opens his mouth to whisper my name, I see the small bubble of blood on his lips.

  His eyes go flat—and he is still.

  Mal!!!

  This time, I’m not even sure that I have screamed aloud. All I know is that his name fills me. And even as I cry for him, the phoenix fire starts to grow around him.

  He’s coming back. I know that.

  He. Is. Coming. Back.

  I can focus. I can do this. Because right now, my mission is to get the amulet out of here.

  I just have to move. I just have to go.

  I try to rise, but I’m still in shock. And when I finally do manage to stumble to my feet, it is too late.

  I’m tackled by a huge man with muscles of steel and a face of writhing flame. I start to cry out for help, but he slaps me across the face, silencing my cry and knocking me to the ground.

  I scream, then roll to my side, prepared to defend myself. But he is not there. Instead, he has reached into the circle of flame and retrieved the amulet from beside Mal’s burning body.

  And then, dammit, he starts running back down the hallway.

  No.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  I scramble to my feet, but he has too much of a lead on me. I know that I won’t catch him. And yet I can’t let him get away. I don’t know what to do, and in that moment I feel more alone than I ever have, trapped in that house, surrounded by the fuerie, by the brotherhood.

  And with Mal not there to help me.

  Except he is there.

  He is right beside me. Engulfed in the phoenix fire, yes, but it is still him. And though I have no idea what inspires me, I reach through the phoenix flame and touch Mal’s burning body. I remember the time with Callie and her father. I’d felt what he felt. And he’d seen what I’d seen.

  Can I do it? Can I borrow Mal’s strength? His power?

  Can I manage to get the amulet and not destroy the world?

  I concentrate, closing my eyes, imagining that he is there. Imagining that he is touching me. Giving me energy. Giving me strength. Giving me him.

  I let it all gather inside me, building and building even as the weapon grows and grows, too.

  I’m terrified that I’ll lose control, but I have Mal’s strength to guide me. To hold me.

  And I have to trust that our strength together will be enough.

  I let it grow, I let it build. I let the weapon—dark and dangerous—rise up inside me.

  I tell myself this will work. That I can do this. That I will not—will not—will not destroy the world.

  Because if I do, then I will be destroying Mal, as well. And I cannot even bear the thought.

  The power is wild inside me. Filling me. Claiming me.

  I can wait no longer—and with a massive burst of willpower, I use the growing power of the weapon as a catapult to push Mal’s power out of me.

  To make a forcefield.

  To slam the air back so that the fuerie who is racing down the hall with the amulet is ripped off his feet and thrown against the wall, unable to resist the force of the invisible wall that I’ve sent rushing his way.

  He falls, limp, to the ground.

  I allow myself less than a second for self-congratulations and then I race that direction. I grab the amulet, my mind reeling from exhaustion.

  And then, as I see Liam sprinting up the stairs, his expression hard, my knees go weak and the world goes dark.

  Chapter 13

  ‡

  I wake back in New York, feeling light and happy and, strangely, more like myself than I ever have.

  Mal is beside me, and I see the worry fade from his stormy gray eyes as I smile up at him.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Alive,” I say. “Really, really alive.”

  “It’s gone,” he says. “We pulled the weapon out. We bound it. And we’ve locked the amulets away, seven pieces protected in seven locations. Do you remember?”

  I close my eyes. All I remember is the sensation of being held. Of being loved.

  “I remember you were with me. Other than that, I don’t remember it at all.” I sit up, suddenly realizing. “So does that mean that I’m—I mean, will I—”

  His smile blooms, and I know that he understands my question. Not only that, but I know the answer simply from the joy on his face.

  “Yes,” he says, then tugs down the neck of the sleep shirt that I am wearing. I crane my neck and bend my shoulder and when I do I can barely—just barely—see the small tattoo of a phoenix on my shoulder blade. The tattoo that now marks me as one of the brotherhood. As immortal.

  I sigh with relief, and brush away the tears that spill down my cheeks.

  “There’s a debrief in two hours,” Mal says. “You should rest until then.”

  I laugh, then slide closer to him. “Trust me,” I say. “I have no intention of resting.”

  “Christina…” I hear the protest in his voice, and I know that he is concerned. But there is heat there, too—and that means that I can convince him.

  “Hush,” I say as I press my finger to his lips. “There’s only one thing I need from you right now, and that is for you to make love to me. Wholly and completely,” I add as reach for my sleep shirt and pull it off. I’m naked now, and I move onto his lap, my fingers going to the buttons on his shirt. “I want everything, Mal, and I want you to take me there. Take me to the edge,” I whisper as I push his shirt open and press my palm to his chest. “Take me to the edge, Mal, and then push me over.”

  He requires no more convincing, and without another word he rolls me over so that I am flat on the bed and he is straddling me. “Do you have any idea how much I want this?” he asks, and I can only laugh.

  “I’m guessing about as much as I do.”

  “This won’t be slow,” he says. “It won’t be gentle.”

  “No.” My pulse has kicked up, my body is on fire. Right then, I think I could come simply from the sound of his voice and the anticipation of his touch. The thought scares me at first, and then I remember—I don’t have to be scared anymore. I don’t have to hold back any longer.

  “Please,” I beg. “Don’t wait. I don’t think I can’t stand one more second of waiting.”

  He doesn’t disappoint, and I arch up to meet him as he thrusts easily inside me. I am ready for him, hot and wet and open, and I gasp with delight at the feel of him, so deep and so hard, and so deliciously, sweetly, wonderfully unrestrained.

  “Don’t hold back,” I say. “Please, don’t hold back at all.” I need to feel it all. Fast and wild and hard. I need to experience what I already know—that I can explode in Mal’s arms without the world shattering around us.

  That I can lose myself in passion and not lose myself entirely.

  As always, he understands what I need, and he thrusts relentlessly into me, and as our bodies piston together, I meet each thrust, each motion driving me higher and higher and higher until I feel him tighten inside me. His release triggers mine, and I explode in a cacophony of light and color. And then slowly, so deliciously slow, I drift back down into myself and into reality.

  And, yes, into Mal’s arms.

  “Mmm,” I say, snuggling close and making sma
ll noises of pure satisfaction.

  He brushes a kiss over my temple, and I gather my strength to roll on top of him. I want to see his face. His eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “For saving me. For loving me.”

  His smile is just a little smug. “How can I not? You’re mine.”

  “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” he says.

  “Will you make love to me again?”

  This time, he laughs. “Lover, it will be my pleasure.”

  *

  Mal stood with Liam by the bar in the Dark Pleasures VIP lounge and looked his friends gathered in front of him. His team. His brothers.

  “We have all seven amulets,” he said, “but now there are decisions that need to be made. We can take it out into the world when we hunt the fuerie and use it to bind them, but that imposes a significant risk.”

  “The weapon?” Callie asked. “The weapon is bound by the amulets. If we take the amulets out when we hunt, there’s a risk that the fuerie could attack and reacquire the weapon?”

  “Exactly,” Liam said. “Mal and I think it’s better to keep the amulets split up. Right now, they’re in seven vaults, protected by seven of the brotherhood’s cells. That reduces the risk of the fuerie reacquiring all seven of the amulets and releasing the weapon.”

  “That’s fine for the weapon,” Asher said. “But now we can’t use the amulets to bind the fuerie.”

  “True,” Mal said. “But before the California mission, Christina altered the energy spectrum on over one hundred gemstones. We can use those stones when we hunt. And we can bind the fuerie inside them.”

  “Fair enough,” Ash said. “But now we’re back to hunting the way we used to.”

  “Without the map in Christina,” Raine elaborated, “we have no easy way of finding the fuerie.” He glanced at her. “Not that I’m saying we should put the weapon back. But that was a nifty trick for our wheelhouse, and now it’s gone.”

  She only frowned, and so Mal hurried on, afraid that she would volunteer to absorb the weapon again. And that was something he would never agree to. It might be harder on the brotherhood without the map in her head, but nothing would compare to how hard it would be on him if he lost her again.

  “We can rely on Dante and the others like him,” Mal said. “It’s not ideal, but it worked for us for thousands of years. And as we all know so well, we have plenty of time on our hands.”

  “No,” Christina said softly, and Mal clenched his fists at his sides. “That’s not—”

  “We’re not having this argument now,” Mal said, his voice low but firm.

  “But Mal—”

  “No. We are not putting the weapon inside you. You’re at risk when the weapon is in you, and even the opportunity to see the fuerie across the globe isn’t worth the downside. Dammit,” he added, though he’d had no intention to reveal so much of himself to the rest of his team, “do you think I would risk you like that? You don’t get reborn in the phoenix fire when the weapon is inside you. Do you think I could live without you again should the worst happen?”

  “You don’t have to.” It was the softness of her voice that finally captured his attention. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Mal. You don’t have to risk me at all.”

  “What are you saying?” The question came from Raine, but it was to Mal that Christina spoke.

  “I can still see them.”

  “What?” Mal’s voice merged with Liam’s.

  “I told you—the weapon’s source is life. And life changes people. And I guess with all the time it was trapped in me it finally changed me, too.”

  “You can see them?” Jessica asked, and Christina nodded.

  “I close my eyes and I can see the map. And they’re out there, just like a stain on the world.”

  “So we can find them,” Mal said slowly. “And with the gems that we’ve made, we can bind them, too.”

  He looked out at the team, at each of them in turn, his gaze finally settling on Christina.

  “Do you all know what this means?”

  Her smile was slow and very smug. “Yes,” she said. “Game on.”

  *

  I hope you enjoyed the third part of Mal and Christina’s story, which follows Part 1, Find Me in Darkness and Part 2, Find Me in Pleasure. I’d be thrilled if you’d leave a review at your favorite retailer!

  And be sure to find out what happens next in the series. Dante’s story, Caress of Pleasure is coming soon! Learn more at my website!

  And if you missed Callie and Raine’s story, Caress of Darkness, be sure to grab a copy now! You can learn more at my website.

  Finally, don’t close this book yet! Keep reading for the first chapter of Caress of Darkness, along with the first chapter of Tainted, my sexy urban fantasy romance, and Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom, the first book in the bestselling series that is now in development as a TV series for the CW network!

  Caress of Darkness Excerpt

  Please enjoy this first chapter from Raine and Callie’s story:

  Caress of Darkness

  A Dark Pleasures novella

  By

  Julie Kenner

  Chapter 1

  ‡

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  I jump, startled by the voice—deep and male and undeniably irritated—that echoes across the forest of boxes scattered throughout my father’s SoHo antique store.

  “Who am I?” I repeat as I stand and search the shadows for the intruder. “Who the hell are you?”

  There is more bravado in my voice than I feel, especially when I finally see the man who has spoken. He is standing in the shadows near the front door—a door that I am damn sure I locked after putting the Closed sign in the window and settling in for a long night of inventory and packing.

  He is tall, well over six feet, with a lean, muscular build that is accentuated by the faded jeans that hug his thighs and the simple white T-shirt that reveals muscled arms sleeved with tattoos.

  His casual clothes, inked skin, and close-shaved head hint at danger and rebellion, but those traits are contrasted by a commanding, almost elegant, presence that seems to both fill the room and take charge of it. This is a man who would be equally at ease in a tux as a T-shirt. A man who expects the world to bend to his will, and if it doesn’t comply, he will go out and bend it himself.

  I see that confidence most potently in his face, all sharp lines and angles that blend together into a masterpiece now dusted with the shadow of a late afternoon beard. He has the kind of eyes that miss nothing, and right now they are hard and assessing. They are softened, however, by the kind of long, dark lashes that most women would kill for.

  His mouth is little more than a hard slash across his features, but I see a hint of softness, and when I find myself wondering how those lips would feel against my skin, I realize that I have been staring and yank myself firmly from my reverie.

  “I asked you a question,” I snap, more harshly than I intended. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

  “Raine,” he says, striding toward me. “Rainer Engel. And I walked in through the front door.”

  “I locked it.” I wipe my now-sweaty hands on my dusty yoga pants.

  “The fact that I’m inside suggests otherwise.”

  He has crossed the store in long, efficient strides, and now stands in front of me. I catch his scent, all musk and male, sin and sensuality, and feel an unwelcome ache between my thighs.

  Not unwelcome because I don’t like sex. On the contrary, I’d have to label myself a fan, and an overenthusiastic one at that. Because the truth is that I’ve spent too many nights in the arms of too many strangers trying to fill some void in myself.

  I say “some void” because I don’t really know what I’m searching for. A connection, I guess, but at the same time I’m scared of finding one and ending up hurt, which is why I shy from
traditional “my friend has a friend” kind of dating, and spend more time than I should in bars and clubs. And that means that while I might be enjoying a series of really good lays, I’m not doing anything more than using sex as a Band-Aid.

  At least, that is what my therapist, Kelly, back home in Austin says. And since I’m a lawyer and not a shrink, I’m going to have to take her word on that.

  “We’re closed,” I say firmly. Or, rather, I intend to say firmly. In fact, my voice comes out thin, suggesting a question rather than a command.

  Not that my tone matters. The man—Raine—seems entirely uninterested in what I have to say.

  He cocks his head slightly to one side, as if taking my measure, and if the small curve of that sensual mouth is any indication, he likes what he sees. I prop a hand on my hip and stare back defiantly. I know what I look like—and I know that with a few exceptions, men tend to go stupid when I dial it up.

  The ratty law school T-shirt I’m wearing is tight, accenting breasts that I’d cursed in high school, but that had become a boon once I started college and realized that my ample tits, slender waist, and long legs added up to a combination that made guys drool. Add in wavy blonde hair and green eyes and I’ve got the kind of cheerleader-esque good looks that make so many of the good old boy lawyers in Texas think that I’ve got cotton candy for brains.

  And believe me when I say that I’m not shy about turning their misogynistic stereotype to my advantage, both in the courtroom and out of it.

  “You’re Callie.” His voice conveys absolute certainty, as if his inspection confirmed one of the basic facts of the universe. Which, since I am Callie, I guess it did. But how the hell he knows who I am is beyond me.

  “Your father talks about you a lot,” Raine says, apparently picking up on my confusion. His eyes rake over me as he speaks, and my skin prickles with awareness, as potent as if his fingertip had stroked me. “A lawyer who lives in Texas with the kind of looks that make a father nervous, balanced by sharp, intelligent eyes that reassure him that she’s not going to do anything stupid.”