The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(18)

“I did not bring myself out here,” she continued, a fierce fire in the words. “You’re the ones who kidnapped me, probably drugged me, threw me down on the ground and left me there. And you’ve already admitted to the lies.”

“Lexi,” Arsen said, but she was defiant, lush in her feminine anger.

“This no longer matters, Arsen. I don’t know you. I’m not even sure if I really know Marge, and whatever happened here is your problem, not mine.”

She started to turn and Christan reached for her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Lexi evaded him. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

He advanced and she retreated. Tremors slid through her, delicately fragile movements most obvious in her hands. The amber in her eyes was fading, or perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight. When she pressed the heel of her palm hard against her forehead, Christan wondered if she was remembering Kace—or the man she continued to call Wallace. Found it difficult to believe that she wasn’t. She pushed her fingers restlessly through her hair. The small gesture threw him back to the heat of an ancient sun. The sweet tang of wild oranges, the soft laughter when they made love in the shade. Centuries ago. He shut the images down.

“Where’s Marge?” There was exhaustion in her voice.

“Busy.”

“She should be here.”

“Marge can’t help you. Just tell us the truth.”

Lexi shifted her body to face him. Her eyes were unfocused, and Christan wondered if she was wandering through her own dark past, or his.

“I don’t know anyone named Kace.”

But she was lying, because she did know Kace and they both knew it. Moments ago, when Christan realized she was lost from view, he’d redirected the drone’s surveillance cameras. Arsen had been in the air. Robbie on the ground. They found her in the rocks, recognized who she was meeting—which shouldn’t have been surprising but was.

Arsen had warned against making assumptions, even though the scene was so familiar Christan saw it in his dreams. In a past lifetime, this woman stood in the center of a moon-shot road and conspired with his enemy. In this lifetime, she stood in the middle of a wilderness and did the same thing. The cold weight of anger pressed down his spine. He looked at her, wanting to see something else, but all he saw was Gemma.

“Do you believe you should not be held accountable?”

He felt the hard rasp of each word, deep in his throat. Deeper still. She looked guilty as sin and Christan thought about his enemy with his hand in her hair. Touching her face.

“I’ve done nothing.” Lexi dropped her hand to her side. It was the hand that still dripped blood. The hand with the single, stark memory line. “I don’t know you. I don’t remember any past lives with you.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know me. You have never known me.”

The bitterness moved rough against his skin. Christan realized it was Lexi, staring at him now, and not Gemma. Lexi, who withdrew behind an emotional wall too thick for him to penetrate. And he wanted her to remember who she was. Who he was. Why they were so destructive together.

The demand was viciously unrelenting. He reached out, touched her. The contact was familiar. He should have known. He dragged a blunt finger over her cheek, slid along her jawline, then up to the corner of her mouth. Pressed inside, drew moisture out and would have rubbed it against her lower lip if she hadn’t twisted away.

“Bastard.”

“Come up with something new.”

She hesitated, then said words so familiar because she’d said them to him before, centuries ago. “I hate you, Christan.”

He answered with familiar words of his own. “And it’s so easy to do.”

There was a beat, the hesitation before the guillotine descends. A memory. An ending, fading into an inevitable conclusion. Christan thought something broke inside, felt a pain swallowed into emptiness as he lifted his hand. Arsen’s red Hawaiian shirt became a blur as the warrior moved. A palm connected solidly against Christan’s shoulder.

“Don’t.”

“Shut up, Arsen.” The utter lack of emotion would have been chilling if Christan realized it was there.

“Do not do this,” Arsen repeated, while Robbie grew tense. “Give her a chance, Christan. Give yourself a chance.”

“Fuck that.” He’d made the decision when he’d watched Kace touch her face. This woman had betrayed herself. If she wanted to be free of him, he would accommodate her, if only to see what she would do.

Energy coalesced into a one word and Christan slammed it into her mind. The force was stunning and totally unnecessary. With a second burst of telepathic power he pushed past her psychic defenses. Satisfaction curled like hot blood in his throat and he watched what was happening. Knew the magic was forming into alien symbols of red and black and bronze. Paper-dry whispers would assault her and the swirling images would settle like living things as the magic took hold. It was perhaps the most unreasonably reckless thing Christan had ever done in his long, long life and he didn’t care.

Robbie pushed a hand through his hair. Arsen’s jaw clenched until the muscle bunched.

Lexi sank down onto the ground and pressed her forehead to her knees.

Christan looked at her, then turned and walked away.