Read Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) Online
Authors: Stephanie Rowe
Her throat suddenly thickened. “Thanks.”
He set his hand on her knee and rubbed gently. She immediately placed her hand on his and held on, not caring that she needed his touch, not even trying to resist it. Everything she was dealing with was so foreign to her, she needed to ground herself, and right now Quinn was what she had.
Two men got out of the truck that had just pulled into the parking lot. They stomped loudly through the mud and the puddles, talking about a hunt they’d recently been on. One of them glanced at Quinn’s truck as they went inside, the door crashing behind them.
Quinn leaned forward as the door of the bar swung open, and a man in a denim jacket and a faded red baseball cap came outside to stand in the rain, facing their truck. Waiting. His challenge was obvious.
“That’s our invitation to join the party, or to leave,” Quinn said. “We sat here too long.” He turned the truck back on so he could roll up the windows, then shut it down for good. “Let’s go inside.”
“Okay.” Suddenly excited about taking action, about being where she knew her sister had been, Grace pulled on the oversized jacket Quinn had loaned her and tugged the hood up. It was her first real lead on her sister, and she was buzzing with energy.
Quinn opened his door. “Try not to look intimidated when we go in there. These men are the type who will try to take advantage of anyone weak. I’ll have you covered, but—”
“Don’t worry, Quinn.” Grace kicked open her door, amused that he thought she couldn’t handle herself with a bunch of rough locals. Yes, she was a pathetic wuss when it came to trust, illusions, bonding and pretty much anything else, but this was one situation she was confident about. It felt good to focus on something she knew she could handle. “Trust me, dealing with jerks in seedy bars is not a big deal. Illusions scare me. Places like this don’t.”
He raised his brows at her in surprise. “So, the lovely Ms. Grace has a side to her I don’t know about? I’m impressed.”
She grinned as they sprinted across the dirt parking lot. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Quinn.” She leapt over a puddle, then landed ankle deep in the wet mud.
Quinn grabbed her around the waist and hauled her out of the muck, yanking her against him. “Tell me,” he growled playfully. “I want to learn everything about you.” He bit her chin lightly as he backed her toward the building. “I want to get inside you and crawl around until I know every inch of your body and soul.”
She swallowed and set her hands on his forearms. “Quinn, this isn’t the time—”
“Can’t help it. Connecting with you got me all jacked up.” He grabbed the back of her hair. “I want you, Grace Matthews. It’s getting stronger by the minute.”
Desire leapt inside her. “Quinn—”
He spun her around and tossed her up the steps to the front door. The man who’d come outside to check on them didn’t move aside as they passed him, and they were forced to step around him to get inside. He didn’t take his gaze off them, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, though she hadn’t seen him take a drag.
Quinn nodded at the man, then set his hand on Grace’s back and moved between her and the man. Quinn leaned over Grace’s shoulder as he reached past her to pull the door open. “Later,” he promised in a sensual whisper that was for her ears only. “Later tonight, sweetheart, we will finish this.”
Grace didn’t have to ask him what he meant. She knew it, in every quivering, trembling heated part of her body. “Damn you,” she said as she walked past him.
He just grinned and followed her inside.
Quinn was prepared when all eyes went to them as he and Grace stepped into the bar. There were about twenty-five people inside, mostly men, all of them wearing jeans, with grizzled faces and ragged hair. These were men who knew how to defend their territory and didn’t like to share.
Quinn took Grace’s elbow, grimly realizing he shouldn’t have brought her inside with him. He needed to be focusing on looking for information about Elijah’s death instead of worrying about keeping these men off her.
He glanced at her, and then raised his brows at the transformation.
She had her hands on her hips, her chin raised, and she was staring down every man in the bar. Her body language made it clear she was to be untouched, and the fire in her eyes said she’d kick the ass of anyone who disregarded her warning. With her dark hair tossed around her slim shoulders, and her silver eyes challenging anyone who looked too long at her, she looked like a siren ready to lure every man to his death.
Damn, woman. You’re hotter than the fire that nearly took me down today. Toss some of that attitude over here, and you’ll be in the backseat of my truck before you can take another breath.
He was kidding, but not. He liked what he saw, and he wanted it. Now. All of it.
You’re making me crazy, woman.
Grace didn’t look at him, but he saw the corner of her mouth twitch in response. Yeah, she was down with him. He was the only one who was going to get through those shields, and he liked it that way.
Quinn grinned, watching the testosterone junkies in the room gradually wither away under Grace’s stare. One by one, the men stopped gawking at her, returning to their drinks, their game of darts or their game of pool or just pretending to suddenly find something interesting written on the table, daring only to sneak a well-disguised peek at the five-foot-two brunette who’d just taken over the joint.
Someone muttered the word “bitch,” but before Quinn could whip out his sword and cut off the bastard’s tongue, Grace grinned, looking very pleased, as if that kind of remark was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. Quinn frowned, studying his woman as she took a seat at the bar, next to a guy who looked about eighteen, pounding back a beer.
Quinn squeezed in between her and the kid, so his hip was against Grace’s thigh. He leaned on one elbow so he could keep an eye on the room and still make it clear he was with her. “Where did you learn to put on that kind of attitude?” He kept his voice quiet so they wouldn’t be easily overheard.
“Foster care.”
He shot a sharp glance. “You were a foster kid?”
“For a little while. Not long, actually.” She closed her mouth and turned her head away from him, clearly indicating the discussion was over. She bit her lower lip, as if regretting the slip.
The bartender leaned on the wood, the bill of his faded Yankees cap covered in something dark. Grease? Or blood? “Where you from?” It wasn’t a casual question. It was the suspicious interrogation of outsiders.
Quinn answered for both of them. “The mountains. Up north about three hours.”
The bartender looked at Grace. “You, too?”
She smiled at him, a radiant expression that made both Quinn and the bartender blink.
You’re beautiful.
Stop distracting me. I have an image to maintain here.
Her cheeks flushed, and she shot Quinn a quick glare before returning her focus to the bartender
.
“I’m from nowhere. And everywhere.” She nodded at Quinn. “For the moment, I’m where he is.”
The bartender ignored Quinn, practically drowning in Grace’s glow. “You get bored fast?”
Grace gave him a speculative look that made Quinn slide his arm around her waist and haul her across the bar stool, so her bent knees were on either side of his hips.
Mine.
She raised an eyebrow at Quinn, but clearly realized the futility of trying to escape his grasp. “I’m not bored,” she told the bartender, “but if I am, I’ll let you know.”
“You do that.” The bartender thudded two beers in front of them before he wandered off, his gaze lingering on Grace until he saw Quinn’s hostile scowl, and then he quickly turned away.
Quinn eyed Grace as she took a drink of her beer, a pleased smiled curving her lips. “You will not be getting bored of me, and if you did, you would not be letting him know.”
She cocked her head at him, playfulness sparkling in those silver eyes of hers. “You’re jealous.”
“I’ve never been jealous in my life.” He took a long drink of his beer, not liking the darkness rolling through him.
“You are now.” She sounded entirely satisfied with that discovery, and she leaned over, pursing her lips inches from his. “You’ve never cared enough to be jealous, have you? Until you got me.”
All right. That was it. A man could take only so much teasing when other men were checking out his woman. “Enough.” He clasped the back of her neck. “You’re messing with fire, Grace. It’s dangerous.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips softened in subconscious invitation.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her close and captured her mouth with his. Her lips were warm and welcoming beneath his, and she parted for him instantly. He growled and trapped her head where he wanted it, deepening the kiss. Harder, faster, owning her. Needing to show the whole damn place if they messed with Grace, it was him they were going to have to worry about, not her. He was her man, dammit, and everyone here needed to know that.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, nudging her mouth open, coaxing her response. She made a small noise of acquiescence in the back of her throat as she leaned into him, the tips of her breasts brushing across his chest, her knees flanking his hips. He swore as she slipped her arm around his neck, holding him tighter, deepening the kiss on her own—
“Peanuts?” The bartender slammed a wooden bowl on the counter next to Grace, and she jumped.
Quinn broke the kiss and turned his head to look at the bastard who’d dared to interrupt them. The guy grinned and doffed his hat, admitting defeat. Quinn jerked his chin in acknowledgement, and glanced at the room. No one would meet his gaze. He nodded, satisfied. The message had been sent.
“Are you going to pee on my barstool next?” Grace asked.
Quinn looked back at Grace, who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “It needed to be done.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re the only beautiful woman in a bar full of men who carry guns.” He gripped the leg of her stool and pulled her closer, but this time it was for himself, and not for any others. Screw the others. He didn’t need to worry about them anymore. “You’re a tough woman, Grace, and I admire that a hell of a lot.” He lifted her hand and pressed his palm against hers, his hand dwarfing hers. “But I don’t want you to have to fight more battles than necessary. If I can give you peace and a clear road to search for information about your sister, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Oh.” Her face softened and the irritation dissolved. “Well, thanks, then.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward to nibble on her earlobe. “But just so you know, I’m also insanely possessive when it comes to you, and if I hadn’t done that, I would have had to spend the night getting in brawls behind the bar with every man who looked your way.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, but this time she was smiling. “I’ve never had a man get in fights over me.”
“You’ve never had me.” He cupped her hip. “But we’re going to change that tonight.”
Her eyes widened, and she slapped at his hands. “Stop it,” she whispered. “We are not getting more involved! You know we can’t.”
“I know.” Not that it was going to stop him when the moment presented itself. But now was not the time. He leaned back and picked up his beer again, trying to shift his mind to more neutral and productive topics. “How’d you learn how to handle the bartender like that? You deflected his question without him even noticing.”
She grinned with obvious pride and scooted closer, as if she were sharing a secret. “When I was younger, I had trouble controlling my illusions, as you know.” She rolled her eyes at herself and who she used to be in an expression that was disarmingly adorable. “People would always notice there was something different about me, so I had to learn how to distract them from the path their thoughts were on, without them realizing it.”
“You’re good at it.”
She smiled, a liberated and confident smile that made his grip on her waist tighten. “Thanks.” She wiped some frost off the bottle, and her face became more serious. “It was hard growing up, not being able to tell people about us. My parents had died and we’d, um, sort of skipped out on foster care without going through the appropriate channels, so there was always the risk that we’d be taken back, especially Ana, who was three years younger than I was.”
He frowned. “How old were you?”
“I was fourteen and Ana was eleven.”
“You were living on the street when you were kids?” At her nod, he swore. When he was fourteen, he’d been working his ass off on his family’s farm and practicing his fighting skills out back every night with his uncle Felix, preparing to become a great Calydon warrior like his dad had been. He didn’t like the idea of Grace being alone so young. “How’d you do it?”
She shrugged. “We had to lie and move around a lot, and we had to come up with answers when people asked us personal questions. We learned how to keep people at a distance without arousing their suspicions. Ana and I used to make it into a game.”
Some of the light went out of her eyes at the mention of her sister, and he took her hand, holding it with an urgency he didn’t quite comprehend. “Grace. We’ll find her.” And they would. Now that he understood more about Grace, he realized that her loyalty to Ana was the same as his loyalty to Elijah. He admired the hell out of her for holding onto that faith despite all the crap she’d gone through, and he’d honor that.
“I know.” She leaned into his touch for a moment and inhaled deeply, as if to shake off the moment. Then she took another drink of the beer, wrinkling her nose. “This is terrible.”
He took one hand from her waist to take a chug of his beer. “Yeah, it is.” But he kind of liked it, actually. There was something satisfying about crappy beer.
The boy next to them finished his drink and shoved off, leaving Quinn space to give Grace some room.
He didn’t move. He damn well liked where he was.
“So, what’s our plan now?” she asked.
“When Calydons die, our bodies are reclaimed by the earth, making it appear that our bodies have disappeared.” He turned his head slightly to watch the room, searching for any signs Elijah had been there.
Elijah. You nearby?
He hadn’t expected an answer, and he didn’t get one, but he would keep reaching out on the chance it would work.
Most of the men weren’t paying them any attention, but two men in the corner seemed to be working a little too hard not to notice Grace. Quinn settled his gaze on them, watching them carefully. “If I died, my body would disappear within a few hours because I’m so old, but a young one could take weeks.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard of that.”
“But we don’t actually disappear. Not entirely.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
One of the men in the corner looked their way, so Quinn slid his hand so it rested on Grace’s, giving the man an intimidating scowl. His sword began to tingle in his forearm and he sat up, staring more closely at the men. Was his weapon reacting to his caveman response with Grace, or something else? Were his instincts warning him about those men? “When we die,” he continued, “a part of our spirit, our last moments on this earth, remains behind. It’s the only physical thing that remains of us once our body is gone.” The man paled and looked down at his drink, and Quinn nodded with satisfaction.
His sword continued burn in his arm. Shit. What now?
Grace followed his stare to the corner, her eyes narrowing on the men, who were now bent over in deep discussion. Supposedly. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How does a spirit physically manifest itself?”
“It finds something of this earth and melds with it. The spirit itself is still intangible, but it’s anchored to the object. Usually a rock that’s nearby. It’s called a
mjui
, and it carries with it an imprint of our death. Any Calydon can access that spirit if they find the
mjui
.” He glanced at her, appreciating the intense look of concentration on her face as she listened to him. “If Elijah’s dead—”
“If?” She looked surprised. “You don’t think he’s dead? But they found his body.”
“Illusions are involved, Grace. Who knows what they really found, and what they didn’t. I’d know if he were dead...but I’d know if he were alive too.” If he were dead…No. Quinn wasn’t going to go there. He was here to find evidence of Elijah’s life, not proof of his death. If there was no
mjui
, then he would know Elijah was still alive and hopefully his search would turn up clues about what was going on. “If Elijah died, I’d be able to use his
mjui
to find out what happened in the moments leading up to his death.”