Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars Read online

  “Are we agreed?” asked Ronan.

  Rory and Cain said, “Yes,” in unison.

  “Good, then it’s time to see what this creature has done to your mind. Before Andra’s shields fail.”

  “Go downstairs,” Cain told Ronan. “I want a minute alone with Rory.”

  Ronan left. Cain pulled Rory into her bedroom and shut the door.

  “What?” she asked, suspicion narrowing her eyes.

  “I wanted to prepare you for what’s going to happen. I don’t like the idea of you being scared or unpleasantly surprised.”

  “Okay. Just do it quick, because now I’m even more freaked out.”

  “He’s going to drink your blood.”

  “Uh. No, he’s not.”

  Cain cupped her shoulders in his hands. “There’s no other way. But you should know that I’ll be right there. I won’t let him take too much or do anything else to hurt you.”

  “He’s going to be fucking around with my head. How will you even know what he’s doing?”

  Without the heavy mask of eye makeup, she looked more vulnerable. She was vulnerable. She just didn’t always acknowledge it. He’d taken his cues from her, assuming she was okay with everything that had been piled atop her over the past few hours. But there was no way she could be okay with that large a burden.

  “If you allow it, I’ll slide inside your head as I have before. I’ll be as close to you as I can, monitoring everything that Ronan does.”

  “If I allow it? I demand it. I don’t trust him. I’m sure he’s a good guy and all, but I don’t trust anyone when it comes to psychic brain surgery.”

  But she trusted Cain—at least enough to demand that he monitor Ronan’s actions.

  That was a gift Cain hadn’t expected, and it lifted him up on another heady wave of renewed purpose.

  Again that strange, bubbling feeling spread across his chest. Only this time, he was sure Rory felt it, because she shoved his shirt up, baring his lifemark.

  New, tiny buds now lined the branches of the tree. A few of them had unfurled to reveal pale, shiny green leaves.

  He knew it was supposed to happen, but it was still hard to believe. The sight left him shaken and so grateful he was unable to speak past the knot in his throat.

  Rory had saved him. Her connection to him had renewed his lifemark, driving away all traces of pain and decay.

  Cain was reborn, and it was Rory who had given him new life. At least for now.

  “Whoa. How the hell . . . ?” Rory ran her finger along his skin, making his abdomen clench with delight.

  His voice was thick with emotion and quiet with reverence. “You did that. You took my luceria and gave me a second chance.”

  Her fingers trembled across his chest, gliding up until she’d reached his heart. She looked up at him with gratitude shining in her dark eyes. “I’ve never done anything that cool in my life. It makes me wonder what other cool stuff I might be able to do.”

  “Whatever you want, Rory. I’m certain that you will be a force of nature.”

  “Like that woman you showed me from your memories?”

  “Yes. Just like that.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Thank you, Cain.”

  “For what?” He had done nothing, when she had given him everything.

  “For making me believe I don’t completely suck. For showing me that magic is real.”

  He’d hardly shown her anything—just a single drop in an ocean. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  If she gave him a few centuries, he’d show her the world.

  She went up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the mouth. It was over so fast, he hadn’t even gotten over his shock before it was over.

  His mouth tingled, and watered for more, but he stood there, frozen, sure that if he so much as twitched, he’d simply drive her back to the bed and spend the rest of the night claiming her body as his own private playground.

  The longer he stood there, the darker her cheeks became, flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry. I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss you. In case things with Ronan go bad.”

  Finally, his sputtering brain caught up with what had just happened. She’d kissed him because she thought she might die. Because she wanted that before her life ended.

  Cain wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, but he couldn’t fault her for being afraid. He was as well. Only his certain knowledge that he would find a way to keep her safe—whatever the cost—kept him steady.

  “You still don’t know what it’s like to kiss me,” he finally managed to say.

  “What?”

  “That wasn’t a real kiss.” He gripped her hips to hold her still while he closed the gap between their bodies. “This is a real kiss.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Slowly, this time savoring the moment that his lips touched hers. A tingling shock so gentle it was almost a caress lingered between them. He tilted his head slightly, willing her to open her lips and let him in. He needed to taste her, to commit all of her to memory so that he could always find this moment in his thoughts.

  The intoxicating scent of her skin spun around him, the air heated by the growing inferno in his body. Desire rained down, pelting him with the need for more.

  Her lips parted on a soft sigh of surrender. The rougher side of him—the one that had fought and conquered for centuries—rose up in ferocious excitement. It wanted to stake a claim—to take what it wanted and never let go.

  Cain shut it down before things could get out of control, but that need was burning there, ready to break free if he presented even the slightest crack in his willpower.

  Rory’s mouth became demanding, her tongue gliding along the inside of his lips, dipping to tease him. She pushed him back. He let her, willing to go wherever she wanted so long as he didn’t have to lift his mouth from hers.

  He hit the wall hard enough to send something to his left crashing to the floor. He didn’t care what.

  Rory’s fingers gripped his head, her nails leaving the most delicious little stinging bites in his scalp. He lifted her up, propping her ass in one hand so she could more easily reach him. But now that his hand was full of hot, curvy flesh, his world went a little sideways.

  His body throbbed with lust, each beat of his heart working in a futile effort to cool his skin. It did no good. The press of her breasts against his chest, the sweet heat of her mouth on his, the aggressive little growls she let out—it all crashed together, rendering him senseless.

  He had to have more. All of her. Strip her down, lay her out, fill her up until there was no more room between them for anything other than pleasure. That’s what she deserved.

  A hard knock sounded on the door. “Everything okay?” asked Ronan. “I heard glass breaking.”

  Go away, was what Cain wanted to say, but he couldn’t stand to pull his mouth away from hers for even a second.

  Ronan knocked again. “We really need to get on with this. Andra’s shield won’t last forever.”

  Shit. Ronan was right.

  Cain hated to admit it, but he couldn’t risk Rory’s safety—not even for the pleasure of kissing her.

  He lowered her to the ground, disengaging their bodies. She stared at him in challenge, her dark, shiny lips parted in a speedy pant. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said.

  His cock jerked toward her in demand. “Good to know.”

  “When Ronan is done, you and I are coming right back here. And you’re going to give me what I want.”

  “And what is that, Rory?” he asked, cursing himself for tempting fate like that.

  She stroked his erection through his jeans, nearly making him come apart. “I want you naked, in my bed. In my body.”

  Cain shuddered at the image she painted, unable to deny her. “Anything you want. As soon as it’s safe.”

  He hadn’t intended it to be a vow, but the weight of his words settled over him, sealing him to his commitment.

  “Now I’m
not so afraid.”

  “Why is that?”

  A sexy grin curled her mouth, nearly bringing Cain to his knees. “Because there’s no way I’m dying now—not with you as the prize for surviving.”

  Chapter 17

  Connal woke up ravenous. He’d sent repeated calls for help to his contacts among the Synestryn, leaving messages in all of the locations he’d previously used, but no responses had been forthcoming. As the days passed, he grew weaker.

  None of the Gerai blood he’d taken over the past few weeks seemed to ease his hunger. The only time he’d felt sated in the past year had been when he’d fed from the woman that Zillah had impregnated—Beth, the woman who had been stolen from Zillah and now lived here at Dabyr with her sister.

  She had been taken as a child and raised in the caves. She’d been fed demon blood—her body altered so she could bear half-Synestryn children. Beth’s child had died before it was born. But Ella’s had lived. She’d lied and said that her child was human—that she’d been pregnant before she’d been taken by the Synestryn—but Connal could sense the lie running through the little boy’s veins. He wasn’t sure why no one else could.

  Maybe because Connal had been altered in some small way, too.

  He’d fed from Beth, and the child growing inside of her had enough of its father’s power to weaken Connal’s control. He’d been made to do things, to turn on his allies in exchange for the only food that made the pangs of starvation ease.

  And now that food was here, living under the same roof as him, tempting him with her proximity.

  Connal had been avoiding her for months for fear that she’d recognize him and reveal what he’d done. He’d tried to assuage his guilt by telling her that her blood was the key to her rescue, but he’d never dreamed that his decision would put him in this situation.

  Knowing she could ease his hunger, but keeping his distance was killing him. No matter how much blood he took, he still remembered the dark power lacing her cells, filling him and making him strong, the way he was meant to be.

  He could no longer hold back. He had to feed. From her. Now.

  He’d catch her alone and wipe her mind of the event. She’d never even know he’d found her. He’d be sated and able to stay away. At least for a while.

  Connal pulled the hood of a sweatshirt onto his head. Cameras were everywhere in the compound, and there was no sense in taking any chances. He’d already been caught on camera once, disabling the security devices along the outer walls so others could break in. His face hadn’t been visible, and no one knew that it had been him, but he was a cautious man. Only starvation forced him to take chances now.

  He knew where Beth lived. He’d watched her from a distance as she’d shared meals with her sister or the other human women here. She was trying to move on with her life. She was still so young. With luck, she would live a long, long time, providing Connal with the blood he needed to survive for years to come.

  It was late. Many of the humans were in their quarters, preparing for bed. As he passed through the dining hall, he spotted Beth’s sister sweeping floors.

  Everyone pitched in to keep Dabyr running. And if Ella was here, chances were good that Beth was alone.

  Perfect.

  Connal kept his head down as he hurried to her suite. He knocked on the door, and she opened it a crack.

  He didn’t wait to give her time to recognize him. He simply pushed into the room and shut the door behind him, taking control of her body as he went.

  In one corner of the living room was a playpen. Sitting inside was Ella’s son, far too large for his age. He realized then that he hadn’t seen the boy around since his birth, even when the women were present.

  They were hiding him, covering up his parentage.

  Good. That gave Connal potential leverage to use against Beth, should the need arise.

  Her eyes flared wide with recognition. “You,” she breathed as she began to tremble.

  Connal could hear her heart racing, hear the blood speed through her veins. His mouth watered in response, his stomach twisting with ravenous hunger.

  He should have slowed down and eased her fears or at least subdued her mind so that she would relax, but he found the idea of wasting even one more second too much for his willpower.

  He grabbed her up and craned her neck back, sinking his fangs deep. Blood poured over his tongue, drowning it in power. She was stronger now. Well fed, well rested. She was no longer taxed by the burden of growing a life inside of her.

  Connal had never experienced anything like it before. The dark taint flowing through her—the one that made her capable of bearing Synestryn young—wove around his cells, fueling them like nothing else ever had.

  The thought gave him pause. There had been a time when tainted blood would have burned his mouth and twisted his stomach. But that time had passed. Whatever Zillah had done to him by slowly feeding him her blood over the years as they altered her, it had changed him as well.

  “Please,” she gasped as her heart raced faster.

  He was taking too much, but he couldn’t stop. He needed more. All of her.

  Her heart fluttered. Her limbs went weak. The useless blows she’d landed on his back and arms had slowed. Then they stopped.

  So did her heart. The last sputtering beats sent a faint trickle of blood into his mouth. He sucked on her, needing more, but there was no more left to take.

  He’d killed her. Drained her dry.

  Connal dropped her and stumbled back in shock. Her body sprawled, pale and lifeless on the floor. There wasn’t even enough blood in her for the ragged wounds on her neck to bleed.

  It was then that he was hit with the implications of what he’d done.

  Once her body was found, any Sanguinar would be able to detect his hand in this. He couldn’t replace her blood.

  But there was one thing he could do.

  Connal grabbed a knife from the kitchen, carried her to the bathroom, and laid her body in the tub. He closed the wounds at her throat and wrapped her limp, cold hand around the knife. He sliced a few hesitation marks into her skin, followed by a long gash running right along her vein. He turned on the shower and pointed it at the open cut in her arm. A few pitiful drops of blood joined the water, swirling down the drain.

  By the time anyone found her, it would all be washed away, but at least it would appear as if she’d done the exsanguination herself. He hoped.

  He turned to leave and saw the child down the hallway, still safely in his playpen. As Connal cleaned up all signs of his presence and left the suite, the child stared at him with black eyes filled with accusation.

  Maybe it was a trick of the mind, but Connal was almost certain the child understood what had just happened. If he’d been old enough to speak, Connal would have had to kill him as well. As it was, he would keep Connal’s secret, if only because he was unable to do otherwise.

  * * *

  As soon as the heat of that scorching kiss with Cain had faded, dread began to set in.

  Rory didn’t want to do this—she didn’t want a vampire drinking her blood. Even worse, she didn’t want him in her head. Letting Ronan see behind the curtain felt too much like some kind of betrayal. That was something she shared with Cain, not some bloodsucking Sanguinar.

  Still, she was in trouble and Ronan was the one who could fix it. If that meant stripping down naked and sacrificing live chickens under a full moon, then that’s what she’d do to be rid of the demon’s control.

  Cain hovered nearby, his thick arms crossed over his chest. Seeing him there, looking like nothing in the world could hurt him, gave her a precious moment of peace. His presence was reassuring—a looming reminder that he was on her side.

  “So what happens now?” she asked Ronan.

  “I take some of your blood to strengthen me and create a link between us. After that, I’ll find the demon’s presence and try to mask it.”

  “And that will make it so the thing can’t control me a
nymore?”

  “That is my hope.”

  “What are my chances?”

  Cain surged forward, only to grind to a halt a second later. She saw a flash of herself through his eyes, hating how small and vulnerable she looked huddled on the couch. Her hair was damp, lying limp around her face. She wore no makeup to hide how pale she was. Even her tucked-in posture screamed she was scared shitless.

  Fuck that. She was tired of being afraid. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

  “Never mind,” she hastily added. “I don’t want to know.”

  Ronan patted her hand, his skin cool to the touch and not at all comforting. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  Cain let out a rumbling growl. “Just do it. She doesn’t want you to linger.”

  Before Rory could respond or even register what was happening, she saw a light flare in Ronan’s eyes—unnatural, internal light spilling from within. Her wrist was at his mouth, and a fleeting pain came and went so fast she questioned if it had ever happened.

  Lethargy collapsed in over her, giving her no time to fear its approach. One minute she was awake, and the next, she had fallen into a gray, groggy state where nothing could touch her. She floated there, weightless and without feeling, as if her body had dissipated into smoke.

  An alien presence wedged its way into her mind, forcing her acceptance. A headache spiked behind her eyes, shoving her up toward the surface of wakefulness.

  This presence wasn’t like Cain, who had slipped in, winding through her thoughts as if he belonged there. This one was harsher, colder—not the same frigid, screaming demand as the demon had been, but just as unwelcome.

  “Don’t fight me,” she heard Ronan say. He was too close. His words echoed in her ears and inside her skull, bouncing off the jagged tension between her eyes.

  Get out.

  She didn’t want him here. He didn’t belong.

  “I must be here.”

  Get out.

  He didn’t leave and she couldn’t shove him away. Panic slithered up her spine, lodging itself in her throat. She couldn’t breathe.