Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5)

Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5) Page 16

Forget.

Turning the water on full-blast hot, I undress and wait for the tub to fill. I wrap my hair into a ball at the nape of my neck and bind it with a ponytail holder. Staring into the mirror at my reflection, I have to wonder where all of this is going. What’s going to become of Eli? Of me? Of us?

No sooner do I slip into the water and lay my head back than the voice returns.

You make it very difficult to speak to you, Riley. You’re so beautiful.

My eyes flash open and I glance around. Although I lost most of my modesty years ago, I drape my arm over my breasts. This time, I answer the voice.

Where are you, Athios? I ask in my head.

Prison. Hell. Call it what you will.

Athios was wrongfully nailed with the sin of a Black Fallen—a fallen angel engulfed in the darkest of magic. We defeated the others. He saved my life, all of our lives, by submitting his own. What are you doing slipping around my bathroom while I bathe? I ask.

It’s hard to get you alone these days. Forgive me for indulging in your beauty. ’Tis all I have left.

Who is the female? Carrine? I ask.

She’s apparently someone who wants your fiancé just as badly as you do.

That angers me. Damn it, Athios. Are you going to help me or not?

He laughs softly, almost a whisper. You ask much of me, Riley Poe.

Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Athios. I wish there was a way you could escape . . . wherever you are.

Athios sighs. What would the difference be? I’m in here without you, or out there, without you? Same prison to me.

I love Eli, and that’s never going to change. I have to help him.

I know. Which is why I even bother putting myself through this torture. To see you like you are, in my head, and know you’re unobtainable. I’d rather be sliced in half.

Athios.

Another laugh. I’ll see what I can find out. Mind combing is a tedious endeavor, you know. And it’s all I have at the moment. I’m bound here, in this place, Riley. And I don’t know Carrine, except, of course, what she is. And that she’s very, very powerful.

I know. With a wave of her hand she caused some sort of a sonic boom in the club we were in. Blew out all of the glass. I had no power against her

Well, keep in mind that powers of the mind must be practiced, just as one practices swordplay. Practice on your partner. You’ve not even scratched the surface of your capabilities, Riley. Remember. Besides your own unique blood, you have all that vampiric venom floating about in you. I’ve seen your powers. They’re only half developed.

I smile. Is this a pep talk, Athios? Something to lift my spirits?

You aren’t hearing me, are you? Whilst you may have pushed aside our time together, I most certainly have not. It’s all I have, those memories.

Guilt washes over me. Yes. I admit there was something between Athios and me. Something strong and powerful that I could not fight. We made love, after I thought Eli had been killed. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with. It’s something I don’t regret. And if I ever get Eli back to Eli, I will have to tell him. Hell, he may even already know.

It soothes my soul to know you at least don’t regret our time together. But my point is, Riley, that you have a little Black Fallen in you, too. Along with all of the vampiric abilities. You’ve simply ignored it. And unfortunately, I cannot help you. Only you can bring them to light.

I close my eyes, and let my head drop against the hard porcelain tub. I purposely knock it a few times. And I groan. I feel like I’m talking to Yoda. In riddles. What are you talking about, Athios?

Who is Yoda?

I almost laugh. No one. Just tell me what you mean instead of talking in circles.

You have a few of my abilities inside you, Riley. When we made love, we became one, even for a brief bit of time. I left inside you a piece of me. My skills of the mind. Core energy that you can command. And perhaps a few powers that can help you manipulate the elements. Forces of nature. You can use them to fight Carrine, or anyone else who poses a threat. Hone them. Use them. I must go. If I’m caught, I may lose this. And I can’t survive without at least speaking to you every now and then. I’ll see what I can find out about Carrine. Watch your back. Stay close to Miles.

I will.

Just that fast, I know Athios is gone, out of my head. I can sense his presence is no longer there. I can’t explain it, but I’m left with a sense of loss. Not the same loss that I feel with Eli, though.

That’s becoming more and more unbearable.

Reaching up, I turn the hot water back on and let it heat the lukewarm water I’m sitting in. I rest my head back and close my eyes. Just a few more minutes.

My thoughts drift to Athios’s words. I have Black Fallen traits now, too? That he left them inside me is . . . freakishly weird. Stronger mind control and power over the elements? Core energy? I’m like one of the fucking X-Men. What the hell?

Technically, Athios isn’t a Black Fallen. He’s not evil. And he sacrificed his soul to save mankind. But he’s one powerful angel. I can’t even begin to imagine grazing that kind of power. I don’t want such intense mind power. What if it takes over me and I become some power-hungry half human hell-bent on revenge, throwing hurricanes and tornadoes at people? There’re enough of those in the world. I’m not going to become one of them.

Hell no.

The hot water envelopes me, and I feel myself drifting. I don’t really want to—we’ve got work to do. But drowsiness overcomes me, and I slip into a quiet peace that I haven’t had in some time.

At first, I’m conscious of lying in the tub, hot water soothing my aching muscles and bare skin. Then it grows dark behind my eyelids, and I see nothing, I feel nothing. I lose the sensation of being submerged in hot water, and it’s replaced by cold, blackness. My arms are weightless, probing into the murky surroundings like a mindless, rambling zombie with its arms held out before it.

Then, as if my thoughts have lit some sort of inner fire, adrenaline surges through me, and I feel energy gathering from my core. At first, it swirls there, like a satellite hurricane photo. Then it fires, explodes, sending lethal doses of that energy through my limbs. I jerk awake, almost leaping from my confinement. I land on my feet, crouching. Slowly, I stand. I’m no longer naked. But not dressed. Not like I normally am. It’s almost like a bolt of the softest, gauziest material is clinging to my body, hovering close but unrestrained by straps or zippers or buttons. None of this do I see. I only feel it.

The power that soars through me doesn’t escape; it’s here, inside me, like a low-humming frequency. If a bug flew at me and hit my body it would zap and fry, bursting into flames, just like a bug lamp. Darkness still surrounds me. I’m totally lost, and I don’t feel anyone else’s presence here but mine. Like I’m in some weird time warp, floating around. Like Dr. Who. Except he’s way more cool.

I lift my hand to push my hair from my face, and that same surge of power burns in the pit of my stomach, then shoots in a rush through my arm. I feel it clear to my fingertips. What the freak?

I lift my arms up simultaneously; the power surge that rips from both of my hands nearly knocks me off my feet.

Is this what Athios was talking about?

I feel like Patrick Swayze in the movie Ghost, trying to move the penny after he’s dead. Pulling the energy from my core and rocking it out of my body.

Do I really have that in me? Or am I just dreaming?

It’s then I feel the atmosphere around me shift, and I’m weightless once more. Darkness still surrounds me, and yet something incredibly familiar overcomes me; I can’t tell if it’s a sensation, or a memory, or what. But it’s something I know very, very well. I’m actually starting to get pissed off. Am I in the goddamn bathtub or a dream? Loss of control now replaces that surge of power I felt moments before. I have control over nothing. I feel as though I’m crammed in a recessed hole in the wall: cold, dank, spaceless. I can’t turn my head; I can’t move my limbs. I don’t think I have any clothes on now, no gauze, nothing.

The brush of a caress grazes my waist, my hips, and the familiarity of the touch knocks the breath out of me. I crave it now, and although I can’t see it, I want it.

Invisible hands move over me, and heat trails the caresses, almost uncomfortably. I can’t move, although I want to; I can only stand here and receive. A grip moves through my hair, pulls it back enough to tilt my head. The touch is erotic, exciting, and my heart pounds, slowly but hard. Lips brush over mine, moist, full, seductive all at once. The sensation moves to my throat, across my collarbone, while hands cover my breasts. Arousal soars through every nerve ending in my body, and a silent moan is swallowed by the deepening of this strange, weightless kiss. Hands leave my breasts and move over my ribs, and strong fingers dig into my flesh as the kiss consumes me. I know it, this mouth. I can’t place it. I only know I have to have it.

Those strong fingers ease from my hips and move down, over my thighs, and then, without warning, slide between my legs. I’m caressed there, right there, a seductive touch by an invisible hand, directed by someone who knows me, knows my needs and exactly how much pressure it takes to bring me to my knees. It makes my head spin, that sexual touch, and I gasp for air as the first wave of orgasm ripples through me. Then a heated breath replaces gentle, strong fingers, and that surge of power, that orgasm, crashes over me in tumultuous waves, and I feel myself slipping.

At once, I’m knocked backward, almost painfully, and my eyes jerk open. The water in the bathtub is cold; my body temperature has lowered. I’m in the guesthouse. Inverness.

My gaze lifts, and from the corner, a figure emerges from the walls. He stares back at me.

Eli.

For a moment, our gazes are locked. Wordless.

His pupils dilate, fixing on mine. He knows me. I can sense it.

“Do it, Eli. Do it now,” a female voice commands. Carrine.

He hesitates; then his features harden. His face shakes, blurs, morphs.

And he lunges for me.

I scream, not a girly, terrified scream, but one of anger, of hurt. Of self-preservation. He’s above me, though, so fast I don’t even see him move until he’s right at me. His hands go around my throat and he squeezes, thrusts my head under the water. I hold my breath and my eyes are open as I struggle. I see his face, all morphed and horrible, hovering just above the surface. My arms and legs flail. Jesus, he’s going to drown me. Where’s Carrine?