The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(86)

“Did you say it again?” Arsen’s voice was hollow. His accusation was a blade that continued to slice.

“God, no.” Lexi’s fingers were shaking so hard she wondered if they were even a part of her now. “How could you think that?”

“Shit.” Arsen’s fingers tightened, but he refused to pull her into his arms. He swore again and glanced around when Luca came into view, followed by Giam. Luca shook his head, and Arsen looked back; his expression brought tears into her throat.

“Lexi.” His voice was tight but his grip was softening. “What happened?”

“He was here.” She closed her eyes and struggled to remember. “I was trying to stop the bleeding.”

“And?”

“He disappeared after Kace did—how was that possible?”

“I don’t know.” Arsen’s voice was ragged. The look in his eyes was terrifying.

“Something pulled him away, Arsen. Was it Six?”

“I don’t know.” Arsen flashed into a wild monstrosity and then back into a man. Luca placed a hand on Arsen’s shoulder. Lexi curled her fingers into the shirt soaked in Christan’s blood and her heart began a heavy beat. Other warriors were joining them, standing in a silent circle, their expressions tense. Were they mourning Christan? He wasn’t dead! She would know it if he was, feel it.

Energy writhed in her mind and she wanted to scream at them to do something. Anything. The pain of inaction was so intense she was surprised she was still breathing. She didn’t stop to think, just met Arsen’s blue gaze.

“Tell me about the blood bond.” She was on the verge of hyperventilation. Her mind raced forward into territory she didn’t understand, and she was more than Gaia, now. Much more. She cried out when Arsen yanked on her wrists and brought her back.

“What?” he ground out. “What did you ask?”

“The blood bond.” Lexi was half angry he hadn’t figured it out, hadn’t been ten steps ahead of her like he always was. “I know you know it.”

Arsen raked a hand through his hair, struggling. “Each person cuts their hand and they exchange blood.”

“Does it say that—they cut their hands and exchange blood?”

Arsen closed his eyes for a moment. “It says a mixing of the blood.”

“There’s more. Tell me.” Lexi rose to her knees, so sure she didn’t need to ask. “There’s a one word for it, isn’t there?”

“Lexi, we don’t understand the blood bond. The magic might kill him. It could kill you.” Arsen reached out, pushed a bloody strand of hair from her face, leaving a red smear. “Don’t risk this. We’ll find him.”

Lexi’s fingers shook. Swirling energies in her mind coalesced into something frightening, powerful. She looked at Arsen.

“They haven’t made warriors in over two thousand years. They can’t! The blood bond would never risk a limited resource. Whatever happens, I won’t be killing him.”

“It could kill you, Slick.” Arsen gripped her arms, tried to give a little shake. “Six probably compelled him, along with Kace. We’ll contact Three. Don’t risk this.”

“You’re in a war.” Lexi held up the bloody shirt, then reached for a shard of glass, gripped it until her fingers bled. “Please, Arsen, they might be killing him right now. Let me do this for him, give him additional strength.”

“Lexi...”

“Trust me.” Tears were in her eyes but her expression was serene. “The honor is in the action, Arsen. Tell me.”

Arsen hesitated a second longer, then the power crashed against Lexi’s mind, doubling her over as she pressed the shard deep into her skin. The words settled. She saw the visual sounds that flared into living fire when she wrapped her hand in the bloody shirt. Felt grains of sand like whispered words in a desert storm. They were ancient words, filled with something so ferocious it consumed her.

A tugging sensation ripped as if trying to pull her muscles apart. The pain was instantaneous.




Christan lay propped against the cold wall, his legs spayed out in front of him. They had broken both his hands, and three of his ribs. Six was using his magic to impair the healing process, not unexpected, since Six preferred to drag interrogations out until they died of exhaustion. This was nothing new. They’d played this game many times before, just switched the roles for who lay on the floor.

Christan had known Six compelled him the moment it happened, recognized the distinctive tugging, as if his body was being ripped apart. Then the few seconds of oblivion. He’d resisted, felt Lexi’s hands on his side. But the wound Kace inflicted had gone too deep and the blood loss weakened him. Even now, Christan could not move without using the precious energy he needed to conserve.

Christan estimated he’d been on the floor no more than ten minutes. It hadn’t taken that long to break his hands, and the ribs had been earlier. He stared at the pool of blood creeping outward from his hip, focused on slowing the bleeding. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, but he was able see enough to assess his surroundings.

Six stood near a massive desk. The immortal was wearing one of the dark gray suits he’d purchased from an exclusive tailor in London, along with a dove grey shirt and red tie. Apparently, Six had noticed that American Presidents wore the color of power and thought he belonged in the club. Kace was in his usual jeans and shirt, and some of the wounds Christan had inflicted were still healing. Six would have been wise to conduct his game without Kace; the Enforcer’s presence only fueled Christan’s aggression. But perhaps that was the point of the exercise. Six wouldn’t kill Christan, at least not yet, but when he did, Six wouldn’t try it alone. He’d learned that lesson long ago.