Saving Daylight Page 4

  Serena went still. Her mind was the only part of her that moved, and it was spinning at a blurring speed.

  Was he right? Was power the only way to freedom?

  If she bonded with this man, no other men could claim her, so none would bother her. With his power at her command, no others could stop her from doing as she willed. She’d finally be able to stop running and live her life by her rules.

  But there was a catch, and it was huge. Mr. Valens would always be able to find her. As their bond strengthened, she’d be able to wield more of his power, but he’d also be able to read her thoughts and feel her emotions. He’d become part of her. He’d know her deepest fears and highest hopes. She’d be able to hide nothing from him.

  Two hundred years ago—before Synestryn had attacked and killed most of the female Theronai—things had been different for her people. Male and female Theronai who were compatible often bonded for short periods to see if their personalities were well suited. It was a kind of courtship, though not always a romantic one. After a pre-determined period of time, some couples would carefully end their tentative bond and seek out new mates, because there were plenty to go around.

  Since the slaughter of most females, things had changed. Without a mate, the power male Theronai stored grew with no outlet, causing extreme, endless pain. Men became desperate. There had been no children born to them for two centuries—no new girls to bond with the remaining men and siphon off their power. A few Theronai women had been found recently, living among humans without knowledge of who or what they were.

  Iain’s wife had been one of these women.

  Because of the scarcity of mates, pain drove men to demand permanent bonds that tied a woman to them for life. It was the only way they’d never again have to endure such torment.

  There was no doubt in Serena’s mind that Mr. Valens would want the same permanence.

  She didn’t know him. She didn’t even know if she liked him. And, she was still in love with Iain. It would be wrong of her to commit her life to another man, even if it meant gaining access to the power she craved. But on the other hand, she didn’t think she’d get another offer as good as Mr. Valens’. She owed it to herself to at least consider her options.

  What harm could there be in a simple discussion? Or negotiation, as he called it.

  If Serena was going to negotiate with this man, she was going to have to do so carefully, because there was no way to know if he was giving her the key to her future, or locking her in a cage of her own making.

  “Let me dress,” she said. “Then we’ll negotiate.”

  Chapter Three

  Morgan had done a lot of difficult things in his long life. He’d battled demons and borne witness to the death and devastation they left behind. He’d endured tremendous pain on a daily basis for decades with no escape in sight. He’d buried more loved ones than he could count. But keeping his eyes off of Serena’s stunning, naked body had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Literally. His cock was still stiff and throbbing from the sight of her smooth flesh, bared for his pleasure.

  The woman was beyond merely beautiful. She’d locked herself away in the bathroom to dress, but he could still see the shape of her burned into his retinas. Perfect, feminine curves covered in smooth, flawless skin. Her nipples were the same ruby pink as her lips, and just as tempting to kiss. Flaming red hair shielded her mound, but all it did was make him think about what lay beneath. Would she part those long legs for him and let him have a taste? Or would he have to spend the rest of his life wondering how sweet she was?

  As soon as the wayward thoughts crossed his mind, he felt like an ass. A cheater.

  Femi had been gone a long time, but that didn’t mean he should tarnish her memory by lusting for another woman. He’d promised himself after her death that he’d never love again—the pain of loss was too much to bear. Since then, he’d barely more than glanced at a pretty woman.

  But with Serena, it was different. She was different.

  Maybe it was simply a trick his luceria was playing on him—trying to get him to bond to her. He’d always believed that the matching ring and necklace were more than some magical artifact he’d been born wearing. He’d heard rumors that some people thought the luceria was sentient, working its will in the lives of those it touched.

  What if they were right? What if he was being played by some fucking magic jewelry?

  He looked down at the band on his finger and watched the iridescent colors swirling beneath the surface. Plumes of fiery orange and dark pink danced in a frenetic display, reminding him all too keenly of Serena’s beauty.

  “I’m on to you,” he whispered to the ring. “Don’t think you’re going to get your way. Serena and I will make our own decisions.”

  She came out of the bathroom, frowning. The delicious scent of lavender followed her. “Who are you talking to?”

  His cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “No one. Just entertaining myself.”

  She’d put on a frilly dress that looked more suited to a high school prom than a negotiation. Cobalt blue and metallic silver ruffles frothed around her thighs in a skirt that showed off far too much of her sexy legs for his peace of mind. Glittering sequins and beads coated the bodice, which lifted her breasts in prominent display.

  His mouth watered for a taste, and his fingers tingled with the need to touch.

  “Nice dress,” he said.

  She beamed and twirled in a circle. He noticed that the wound on her leg had already closed. Like him, she healed quickly.

  Thank heavens.

  Her smile brightened as she looked down at herself. “The gowns today are so fine. So sparkling. I know there are better ways to spend my allotted coin, but I just can’t help myself. I want to own them all. I’ve discovered something called a thrift store, where apparently, women send their cast-off clothing.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe someone would ever part with this dress.”

  She was so pleased with herself, he didn’t have the heart to tell her how there were few places she could wear a dress like that and not be gawked at.

  Then again, she was so beautiful that she could wear a Hefty bag and still make men stare and drool.

  The image of her naked body blazed in his mind again, clear and perfect. His traitorous body reacted to even the memory of her, and suddenly, the fly of his jeans was too tight across his welling cock.

  Morgan took a seat in the only chair in the room so she wouldn’t see the effect she had on him. The only place left for her to sit was the bed.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  Was his voice usually this rough or was lust playing havoc with his vocal cords as well?

  She eyed the bed with apprehension, as if there was something wrong with it. It was then he realized that even sitting on a bed in the presence of a man would grate on her antiquated sense of propriety.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Times have changed. You have to adapt so you don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “I have been trying, Mr. Valens. Some habits are harder to break than others.”

  “Case in point. Call me Morgan.”

  She blushed, and the color reminded him all too easily of her tight, little nipples.

  He could almost imagine them pressing into his palms as he covered her with his hands, memorizing the feel of her, the weight of her breasts. The need to learn every little detail of her body was so strong, his hands began to tremble. He had to clench his fingers into tight fists to keep the secret of how deeply she affected him.

  “Okay, Morgan,” she said. “What are your terms?”

  His mind was already wandering down the lovely path her nude body had provided, so it took him a second to figure out what she was talking about.

  Right. The negotiation.

  He had to get his head back in the game. Fast. This chance to claim her as his mate was too rare for him to risk screwing it up.

  He focused on a scuff mark on the wall behind
her to keep his mind off sex and on track. “I think we should start by listing what we each want.”

  “Very well. You go first,” she said.

  He paused to collect his thoughts.

  What would sway her? What was he willing to reveal? Like any negotiation, this one would all hinge on the starting point. It was important that he chose his wisely.

  “I want to no longer live in pain,” he said. “Touching you made all my suffering end, but when you stopped touching me, I thought the returning pain would kill me.” He said it evenly, factually, giving no color or life to the extreme depth of his suffering.

  Even thinking about that moment of crashing pain was enough to drive a man mad, so he shoved it down deep, where all painful things lived.

  Sympathy lined the space between her brows. “For that I am truly sorry, Mr.—Morgan. I want to help, but we can’t exactly go around touching all the time.”

  Morgan struggled not to think about just how much fun a life spent touching her body would be before guilt left him cold.

  What would Femi think if she could see him now, lusting for a woman he barely knew?

  “That’s not what I’m proposing, and you know it” he said. “The men who’ve bonded with a female Theronai are no longer in pain. Once you tap into my power and reduce the burden I carry, I won’t hurt anymore.”

  He could tell by her expression that the idea of binding herself to him made her uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. “Your turn. What do you want?”

  “Freedom, as I’ve said all along. I fear that tying myself to you would destroy that freedom—if not now, then down the road.”

  “I told you I’d give you my vow not to do that.”

  “And what vow could you give me that wouldn’t interfere with those you’ve already given to protect humans and obey your leader?”

  “He’s your leader, too.”

  “I’ve sworn no oath to him.”

  “You will. Eventually. But that’s not the point. You want guarantees. I’m willing to work with you on that.” He leaned back in his chair, considering. “What if I promised to never stop you from leaving Dabyr when you wanted?”

  “Even if it meant I was walking into danger?”

  He hesitated.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” she said. “If we were to bond, you’d promise to protect me with your life, as all of our men promise their women. If you knew that me leaving Dabyr was dangerous, how could you willingly let me leave?”

  “I would come with you.”

  She shook her fiery curls. They danced around her bare shoulders. Soft against soft, silky against silky.

  In that moment, he would have given his sword arm to be caught between those two, lovely surfaces.

  “I’m not looking for a partner—or a warden,” she said. “I don’t want to be forced to be with you all of the time. I want to go where I want, when I want, with whom I want. Or alone.”

  “That’s reckless,” he spat.

  “That’s freedom,” she countered. “That’s what I want. I will consider no offers for less.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but a knock on the door stopped him.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

  Serena shook her head and rose to answer the door.

  “Let me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “This is what I’m talking about. Synestryn don’t knock. There’s no threat at all here, and yet you can’t stand to let me answer my own door.”

  She was wrong about there being no threat. While it was unlikely that demons would come knocking on her door, the humans they controlled would. Dorjan were everywhere, and for all he knew, there was one at her door right now.

  Morgan opened the door with his hand on his sword, just in case.

  A man he didn’t know stood in the hall, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. He was about six feet tall and gaunt, with deep grooves under his cheek bones. He was handsome in an aristocratic kind of way with refined features and deep air of confidence. His eyes were gray-blue, his hair sandy blonde, worn in a cut that probably cost more than Morgan’s entire outfit. At the base of his throat, inside the open collar of his pristine white shirt, sat a shimmering luceria as proof that this man was a Theronai.

  Morgan tensed. While this man should be his ally, there were no guarantees that was the case. He didn’t know him. He’d never seen him before. But he had seen men who wore the luceria turn on their own kind, once all the leaves on their lifemark had fallen and their souls decayed into rotted filth.

  Whoever this man was, he wasn’t getting anywhere near Serena.

  “Can I help you?” Morgan asked, voice neither cold nor welcoming.

  The man extended his hand and smiled in greeting. It was a warm smile, but one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A slight British accent lilted through his words. “I’m Link Tolland, from the European settlement.”

  Behind Morgan, Serena pulled in a shocked breath.

  “Morgan Valens.” He shook the man’s hand, gauging his strength.

  The man had it in spades, gripping tight enough it could have been either a display of worthiness or a warning.

  Whoever he was, he was no stranger to combat. Morgan could tell that much by the position of the calluses on his hands and the way his eyes watched Morgan’s every move.

  “What brings you here, Link?”

  Link leaned to peer past Morgan’s shoulder to where Serena stood behind him. As soon as Link saw her, his face lit up with eagerness. “There you are, darling.” To Morgan, he said, “I’m here to collect my belongings.”

  “Belongings?” Morgan asked.

  Link nodded. “Serena’s parents gave her to me two hundred years ago. I recently learned she was still alive, so I’ve come all this way to claim her.”

  Chapter Four

  Joseph surveyed the battlefield. The area had once been lush, rolling hills, kept manicured by the loving hand of several human gardeners. The trees were kept pruned, the lawn mowed in a crisscross pattern that looked like verdant green plaid. The stone walls around the compound gleamed under the sun and kept out all the nasty creatures who wanted to feast on the flesh and blood of those inside the walls of Dabyr.

  Now everything was different. Two weeks ago, the walls had been breached. Since then, the place they called home had been under almost constant attack.

  The gleaming walls were now toppled in places, with giant chunks of stone laying like shattered bone on the frozen ground. The once lush grass, now winter brown and blood-soaked, was rutted and gouged, leaving deep furrows of dirt visible like dark, diseased tissue inside open wounds. The smell of rotting flesh and burning bodies filled the air, mixed with the fetid stench of demons. Screams of pain, bellows of fury and the clang of sword on steel rang out through the night.

  From the top of a low hill, Joseph took in the devastation.

  Another wave of Synestryn demons had just been pushed back. His warriors were finishing off the few remaining demons in the hopes that they’d have a few minutes to rest before the next wave arrived.

  They couldn’t keep going like this much longer. Even the sunlight gave them no rest.

  For as long as his kind had existed, Synestryn were bound by the dark. They couldn’t venture out during the day, much less attack. But now things were different. A new breed of demon had risen—one that could walk in the light.

  The dark, demonic creatures who ruled over the Synestryn had been working toward this achievement for years. Possibly centuries. They’d been stealing human children, feeding them blood and caging them in the dark so that one day, they could create offspring without the inherent weaknesses the Synestryn possessed.

  Joseph had been seeing signs of what was to come for a while—more human-looking demons—but he hadn’t realized what their end game was until now.

  But now, looking over the war-torn field that had once been a safe haven for Sentinels and humans alike, he knew how foolish he’d been.


  He should have seen this coming. He should have prepared better. He should have protected those who relied on him for their lives.

  He’d failed. Utterly.

  “You couldn’t have known,” came a soft, sweet voice that clashed harshly with the noise of combat.

  Lyka. His wife, his soulmate. His everything.

  She came up behind him, as silent as a cat. He’d felt her presence, of course, but he’d been so engrossed in surveying the situation so he could move men around to prepare for the next wave of attack, that he hadn’t realized she’d found him.

  Lyka was a glowing, golden vision in the night. She was tall and athletically built, with sunny hair and a body that made Joseph pant with longing, even as exhausted as he was. She was a strong, solid partner—something he’d never truly believed existed for him, much less that he’d find. But here she was, in the flesh, bringing him reassurance and support when he needed it most.

  There was a warm, animal smell hovering around her, one that told him she’d shifted into her tiger form recently to patrol the perimeter.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “There’s a new crack in the southern wall. They’ll be able to break through in a few more hours.”

  “I’ll send some men to defend the area. Lexi can’t mend any more holes right now. She’s doing all she can.”

  Lyka touched Joseph’s arm. He couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a bid for comfort.

  “She hasn’t slept in more than a week. Zach is feeding her all the power he can gather, but the demons are tearing the walls down faster than she can rebuild them.”

  “I know,” he said, hearing the sound of defeat echo in his tone.

  Lexi had a gift that none of the other female Theronai did. She was able to imbue stone and mortar or timber and nails with the power to repel invasion. She could weave her magic around a building or a wall and create a kind of barrier that kept out dark magic and kept those inside safe and hidden.