Dark Before Dawn (The Protector Guild Book 7), page 20
My stomach ached from where he’d sliced into me, but when I lifted my shirt to see the damage, there was only the soft puckering of a scar—the wound nearly healed over. “You stabbed me.”
“It was necessary.” There was no apology in his tone, his voice as impossible to decipher as his face.
“You fucking stabbed me.” I heard the panic in my voice, echoing in the room. I crawled away from him as he prowled towards me, scanning the room for a door.
There, in the corner.
Behind Lucifer.
I didn’t stand a chance.
“It was necessary,” he repeated. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed in focus as he studied me. I felt like an ant under the blaring sun, and he was the curious child holding a magnifying glass, watching in amusement as smoke curled from my body.
“Necessary? I thought you needed me? I could have died!”
Actually, why didn’t I die? His blade was no ordinary weapon. The first time I saw it in use, it had nearly ripped Wade’s life away.
“Yes,” he crouched down, his fingers pressing lightly to my chin as he turned my head a few inches in each direction, the gentleness of the gesture so at odds with how he’d gutted me like a pig for slaughter. “You could have.”
I ripped my face from his, my jaw tight as I met his eyes. “Why?”
He asked me to find The Guild’s shadow store? I did.
He asked me to come when he called? I did.
Sure, I couldn’t exactly control it, but I’d met his demand for a blood oath with little resistance.
I’d done everything he’d asked of me.
Not to mention that I was his daughter, for fuck’s sake.
“If you died, you’d have been no use to me anyway.”
“How can you be so callous?” My voice wavered, with anger more than sadness or fear. It disgusted me that I’d come from this man—that his blood flowed through my veins. I’d never been so acutely aware of the fact that being a father extended far beyond blood. Cyrus nurtured what this man in front of me sought only to destroy.
“Some things are worse than death.” The sentence was little more than a whisper, so low that I wasn’t even sure he’d meant for me to hear it. He gripped my face between his hands, firmer this time, as his eyes met mine.
A burning pierced through my skull and my vision swam. My body screamed with a vicious heat, the pressure building so strong that I was certain the hellfire had not only returned, but turned against me—punishing and brutal. Every muscle in my body locked into place and I was certain they’d all snap as one from the impossible tension. It made the general achiness I’d woken up to look like child’s play in comparison—nothing more than a scraped knee from falling on the pavement. A loud, ringing scream echoed around us—all I could see was the heavy darkness behind my lids.
This—this was pure, unadulterated agony.
As quickly as the pain started, it abated, the shadow of it still ringing in my bones.
Lucifer dropped his hands roughly, like he was the one who’d been burned.
My chest lifted and fell in heavy, ragged pants as I turned to him, my jaw locked in a clench, my fingers buried into fists so tight I was sure I’d drawn my own blood.
A flicker of something flared in his eyes, there and gone so fast I was half-certain it was my mind playing games on me.
My body thrummed with an ache that went down to my marrow—but in that ache, I felt the stilted hum of something else, something familiar but dormant, thudding to life.
His nostrils flared, the lines of his face tense and sharp. He nodded once. “Again.”
I started to ask what he meant, my chest heavy with fear, but before the muscles in my face could form a word, the blue haze of his blade sparked between us—before burying into my chest.
The pain lancing through me now made whatever I’d felt before seem frivolous. This was a pain that sizzled inside every atom of my body, attacking me from all angles at once.
A pain that had me begging for death—until I blissfully passed out from it.
When I woke again, my body so soaked with sweat that I felt like I was swimming in a pool of my own liquids, Lucifer was huddled over me.
The careful, polished facade from before was still radiating in his rigid posture, but there was a wildness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before, his usually perfectly-styled hair tousled like he’d been gripping his fingers into it.
This time, he didn’t wait for me to speak, didn’t bother to say anything at all as his hands roughly gripped my face, piercing into my head as he’d done before.
It hurt, I didn’t doubt that. But my body had become so used to the pain, had almost begun to recognize it as a companion more than a threat.
“Again.”
The blade didn’t surprise me this time, the blue glow allowing room for one small hiccup of resistance, of fear from me, before it found its home again.
This pattern repeated for so long that I stopped counting, stopped protesting.
Eventually, it became like a meditation, my body growing simultaneously weaker and stronger with each foray into the darkness. The limbs attached to me felt no more mine than the ground that they borrowed for rest.
When I came to—who knows how long I’d been under, or how many times I’d been shoved into the murkines, I’d long lost track—Lucifer was sitting next to me, his arms dangling lazily on his bent knees.
The strange otherworldlyness of him hadn’t left, the power he exuded as present as I imagined it always was, but there was a weariness about him. His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, his hair a mess, his skin clammy with sweat. Dark eyes met mine and there was no shield, no distant judgment or cold appraisal.
He looked like a man, one who’d been through the same heavy battle as me—weathered and shaped into something new.
I felt a strange kinship with him, an appreciation that I wasn’t alone in the agony, even if he was the cause.
He took a heavy, labored breath, a strand of wet hair falling into his eyes as they dropped to the ground. “I’ve done all I can do.” His mouth narrowed into a thin line, dipping slightly in the corners. He looked… sad. “Your powers are yours to shape and form. They crave connection. It is the only way to strengthen them—to bring them to where they were and then, hopefully, to go beyond that. It’s the only chance you have. I’ve done all that I can do.”
Slowly, painfully, he stood, his chest staggering in uneven breaths. Strange, to be aware of Lucifer’s breathing. I’d long thought of him as being more like a god than a man—untouchable, impervious to pain or harm. This—this was a different version, a different shape of him than I’d encountered before.
Without another word, he left through the door, opening it wide enough for a large, furry animal to slip in through the crack.
A wet tongue pressed to my cheek, warmth spreading through my body as the creature curled around me, soft fur soothing a chill I hadn’t noticed until it subsided.
“Ralph?” I pressed my head against his chest, fingers curled into the thick fur surrounding me.
A pressure in my chest released, comfort unfurling down to my toes.
With the first vestiges of peace clouding out the pain, I did all that there was left for me to do—drift into a deep, deep sleep.
When I finally came to, my body felt stronger, and I felt more me than I’d felt in a long time. I fucking hated Lucifer for what he’d put me through, and I’d have to process the trauma of it all eventually. But that need for revenge and healing was overshadowed by a ravenous hunger that I couldn’t seem to satiate no matter how hard I tried.
Eli studied me, lips curved into a small grin as I shoved another piece of venison into my mouth.
“What?” I asked around a mouthful, no doubt looking as unattractive as I felt.
Eli’s leg and the injuries he’d sustained during the battle had been healed up during the nightmare Lucifer had put me through.
“Nothing.” The grin turned into a full-on Eli smirk, one that made the whisperings of a flutter stir in my belly. “I know you love your food, but this is next level, even for you. I think this is the fourth meal you’ve had since you woke up—two hours ago.”
A shadow crossed his face, the teasing glint in his eyes eclipsed by concern.
I didn’t want to talk about what I’d been through—and Eli hadn’t pressed me on it.
That didn’t change the fact that he was worried though. I felt his eyes on me whenever I wasn’t looking at him, his focus carving a spark against each bit of skin it landed on. My awareness of him was stronger than usual, more insistent even than my desire for food.
I swallowed another too-big bite of meat, sitting up straight so that I could have a polite conversation and stop gnawing on everything in sight like a caveman. “What do we do now?”
Lucifer hadn’t made an appearance since abandoning our little torture session, and while Ralph had kept me company for meals one and two, he left sometime during meal number three—no doubt to find Sam or his blue-eyed hellhound buddy.
“Sam said you’d need a day to recuperate, to heal your mind and body and some other yoga-sounding shit. He said after you eat a bit, to spar with me for an hour or two.” He snorted, “apparently I’m so weak, he’s not concerned about me pushing you too far. And then tomorrow, you’re to check in with Lucifer, report any new information you’ve uncovered. He said he’d be around in the afternoon to continue the training regimen you developed with him last time you were here.”
Sourness twisted in my gut at the thought of seeing Lucifer tomorrow. The man had put me through hell—something I probably shouldn’t have been surprised about considering we were very literally in hell and he was also, you know, Lucifer.
That didn’t mean I was excited for a reunion quite so soon.
I shoved my plate away, my appetite for it suddenly wavering a bit. Sam had been working with me on my training last time I was here, but his focus had been on strengthening my powers. Not on sparring.
“Sam’s going to be really disappointed when he realizes that our training session is going to dry up as soon as it starts.”
Eli took a deep breath, not meeting my eyes.
“What?”
His gaze cut to me briefly. “Have you tried to access your powers since waking up?” Leaning forward, he grabbed my hand, the feel of his thumb stroking my skin enough to send a shot of desire to the base of my belly. I pulled my hand away, shocked by the blast and his eyes widened with a brief flash of hurt before his usual mask cannibalized it. “After what Lucifer—” he cleared his throat, “after what you went through, I mean? Did he fix your powers? Find them or release them again or whatever?”
My face relaxed in surprise and I sat back, lifting my hands in front of me, considering. Had he fixed them? I closed my eyes, searching inside of myself for that familiar flicker of heat, of tingling energy.
A wave of nausea overtook my focus, my temples prickling with sweat as memories of that darkness came back, that pain.
I pushed it to the side, storing it in that box of shit to deal with later, the one overflowing now in the back of mind.
“Max!” I felt Eli lean closer, his voice filled with a tentative excitement. “Max, look.”
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was how startlingly beautiful Eli was when he smiled. It was rare, these moments. He was always so aware of being observed, every expression a carefully-crafted shield. It wasn’t that he didn’t ever smile—his face was almost always twisted into one of those roguish, sardonic smirks I didn’t think existed outside of romance novels. But he used that flirtation to hide from the world, to keep himself at a distance from everyone. Moments like this one were rare. His brown eyes, shot through with flecks of amber, shone with adoration as they met mine.
Something in that look made me feel not just desired, but like I was something precious—like I was someone worth fighting alongside of.
Like I was someone worth fighting for.
I wanted to trace the line of the smile, the way it traveled all the way up to his eyes, to memorize this rare glimpse of the real him before it disappeared. But when I moved my hand to do just that, I jumped back in my seat, startled.
Because the second thing I saw was that my fingers were on fire, the tips glimmering with the familiar, comforting heat.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice cracking with excitement. “My powers—they’re back. Eli, this is amazing.”
I reached deep inside, tried fanning the flames, building them up. They flickered and flared briefly, but then extinguished. It would take time to get them back to what they were before, but it was a start.
If I could access my strength again, it meant that we were finally, finally one step closer to saving Atlas.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing softly as he studied me.
His hand feathered along my cheek, cradling it softly—touching just barely. I bit my bottom lip as lust coiled down my spine, stirring between my legs. His eyes latched onto my mouth, darting between it and my eyes, a silent question in the air between us.
My focus drifted to the last time we’d been together, how I’d broken down into a puddle after—to my realization after being with Wade and Darius, to that dream with Atlas.
Slowly, he moved to close the distance between us.
“Oh my god.” I stood up abruptly. Atlas. How the fuck had I forgotten that dream?
“I’m sorry,” Eli said, the words tumbling out in a rush as he watched me pace. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
I waved my hand at him. “It’s not you, Eli. It’s Atlas!”
Something unreadable flashed in his eye—hurt, jealousy maybe? “You’re thinking about Atlas right now?”
“No, it’s not like that—I just remembered a dream. That I had a dream while,” I ran a hand over my stomach, “you know, Lucifer was torturing me and stuff.” He flinched at the mention of torture, his jaw clenching with a rage both of us knew he could do nothing about. Lucifer could pretty much do whatever he wanted—neither of us was powerful enough to stop him. “I think he helped me to finally dream walk again.”
“Oh.” Eli sat up straighter, the corner of his mouth pinched as he considered. “You reached Atlas? Is he alive?” He shook his head, grunting. “I mean, obviously he’s alive if you were able to reach him—” his eyes met mine, round and filled with excitement, with hope, “but is he okay?”
My stomach dipped at the realization that I had to crush that hope, or at least soften it—why did it seem like we never got to hold onto it for very long anymore? “I don’t know. He seemed disoriented; something was very clearly up. They must be injecting him with all kinds of things.” I closed my eyes, tried to focus on those final moments with him. Sometimes these dreams were vivid and clear, but other times they started to slip away the moment I woke up. This dream belonged to the latter category, probably because I wasn’t at full strength. And, I was dealing with the whole mind-obliterating torture thing. “Something—something pushed me out. Something much, much stronger than me. It felt—”
Fear tangled into my thoughts and I felt my heartbeat quicken the closer I reached for it.
“Max?” Eli stood in front of me now his hands pulling mine from where they gripped my head, erasing the pressure with his soft touch. “What was it?”
“Fear,” I whispered, my hands clinging to his as I stared up at him. “Absolute terror.”
His thumb stroked my cheek and I realized, belatedly, that he was wiping away a tear. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
I shook my head, holding his hands to my face like he was my lifeline. “Atlas isn’t.”
I didn’t have the confidence to voice it out loud, but I was pretty certain that the creature who pushed me from the dream-walk was a drude. Darius mentioned that they were nightmare demons, that they fed on a person’s worst fears, using other people’s weaknesses as a way to grow stronger.
But how would a drude have access to him?
Unless The Guild had managed to capture one at the ambush?
The thought that protectors, people who grew up with Atlas—hell, his own father—could use a demon to torture him, or other prisoners, made bile rise in my throat.
I’d met so many wonderful people—Seamus, Greta, Izzy—in my brief time at The Guild, sometimes it was difficult to parse that with the reality of the institution. Was The Guild truly so wildly and completely corrupt?
Surely Tarren would do something to help his son?
The Guild was so hellbent on extolling the evils of demons; surely, they wouldn’t stoop to using those very evil powers to harm others?
I knew in my gut that it was wishful thinking—there were no bounds to the kinds of evil that shaped this world.
The division now was clear to me.
Evil was a term reserved only for those who used their power to oppress those without it, for those motivated by greed and a desire to keep those they deemed lesser down, for those who harmed for no other motivation than to gain more power, for those who profited from others’ misery with a greedy eagerness.
Whether vampire or protector, that was the new code I would live by. I’d no longer think twice about cutting down those who betrayed it.
We couldn’t help Atlas from here. As terrifying and frustrating as it was, I knew that the best chance Atlas had would come from me regaining control over my power—both so that I could reach him in sleep and so that I could teleport to him the second I was able.
14
MAX
“You’re distracted.” Eli swept my feet, catching me by the arms before I landed on my ass. “You’re never this easy to take down.”
My skin tingled under his touch, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary as he stood next to me, both of us breathing staggered breaths that had nothing to do with the fight.
I had no idea what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him, about touching him—about pressing him up against the stone wall and climbing him like a tree.
