Immortal Surrender (34 page)

*   *   *

Farran tried once more. Lunging across the bed, he attempted to catch hold of Noelle’s hand and drag her back into the pillows where he could talk sense into her. Damnation, what had gotten into her head? Was it so difficult to believe he meant his words—that he wanted to ensure no harm could come to her? Had he not proven himself worthy of her trust?

As she recoiled as if his touch would scald, annoyance cracked through his diminished patience. Fine. If she wished for him to leave, he would. He would not beg. ’Twas not part of his nature. Once mayhap. Never again. When she could use the logic she so prided herself on, he would explain.

He threw himself from the bed and stormed to the bathroom to collect his clothes. But when he returned to the bedroom fully dressed and found her huddled on the edge of her bed, his annoyance turned on him instead. Saints’ blood, he could not blame her for misconstruing his words. He had been vague, and she had yet to comprehend the deeper meaning to the oath her position demanded.

“Noelle, I would not play you false.” He approached the side of the bed he had lain on and curled his fingers into his palm, resisting the urge to reach for her a third time. “I worry for your safety. With the oath, you shall gain my immortality. ’Tis the only way I know to keep you from Azazel.”

Her disbelieving snort lanced pain through his tightening heart. “And I suppose you’re ready to suck up your pride and fulfill your part of the bargain?”

He hesitated on the word
aye.
No matter how he tried, ’twould not dislodge from the back of his seizing throat. His pulse quickened at the prospect, but the deeper-rooted fear of betrayal wound an impassible barrier between his mind and his tongue. He cared for her, aye. But he was not ready to take the final vow. To give his loyalty to her and be bound for eternity to place her above all others.

She looked over her shoulder awaiting his response. The tears gathered in her eyes tore him into pieces. He swallowed hard, knowing he must make this right, yet unable to grant her request.

“Like I thought.” Sadly, she shook her head and turned away. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still just a pawn in your stupid game. Take me home, damn it.”

Farran opened his mouth to protest, then slowly closed it. He dropped the torc on the bed. What use was it to argue when he could not grant her what she needed? He had pushed, aware he should not. Spoiled the most incredible night he had ever experienced. The enormous cavern between them left him hollow and wanting. If he could but somehow bridge it …

He turned for the door, hating himself. Hating Brighid for the monster she had turned him into.

*   *   *

Noelle refused to cry. As the door thumped shut, she pulled in a deep breath and forbade the tears to fall. Soft purring from the foot of the bed drew her out of her dismal thoughts, and she instinctively reached for her cat. Scooping him into her arms, she buried her nose in his fur and exhaled with a shudder.

When she closed her eyes, all the images she longed to forget tormented. Farran holding her, Farran’s mouth at her breasts, Farran’s body possessing hers in a way that made her light-headed. She shut the images out with a groan and looked out the window. If she had to sit here all night and replay what had turned into disaster, she’d go crazy. She needed to move. Change scenery. Go home.

If she were in D.C., she could jump into her car and spend the restless energy at the gym. Run on the treadmill until her legs burned so badly that by the time she got home she’d pass out.

But she wasn’t in Washington. She was stuck in this beautiful room, her only companions the voices in her head and her faithful cat.

Still, she didn’t have to sit here. Maybe someone would be in the commons and she could forget with a good movie. Or maybe she could weasel in on a game of pool—not that she had ever played. At the very least, she could raid the kitchen.

Unwilling to look at the clothes Farran had peeled off her, she quickly donned a comfortable pair of sweats and a navy blue T-shirt. She stuffed her feet into her sneakers, gave her cat an affectionate pat, and trudged out the door. Caradoc greeted her with a cordial smile, which only reminded her more of her current circumstance as quasi-prisoner. But the subtle trill of Anne’s light laughter that floated through her closed door, stopped Noelle’s trek toward the stairs. Conversation. Another woman to commiserate with. Maybe even get some answers to the things she didn’t really want to know.

She pivoted, hesitating only a moment before she knocked.

Anne’s laughter grew louder as she approached. The door cracked open, and her bright smile greeted. “Noelle. Come in.” She swung the door wide.

Noelle shifted her weight. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not. Is there wine around here anywhere?”

From the concern that filled Anne’s sky-blue eyes, Noelle guessed the redhead had noticed her teary eyes. Anne stepped into the hall, dragging the door closed behind her. “No wine—alcohol is forbidden within the temple. But we can find some tea.”

They descended the stairs in silence. The same quiet engulfed them as Anne ushered Noelle into the kitchen and poured steaming water from a tall percolator. She passed Noelle a mug, dropped a teabag in, then gestured at a small table tucked into the corner.

Noelle sank into the metal chair. She stared at the cup she held, uncertain what to say now that she’d dragged Anne out of her room.

“You want to talk about it, or do you just want the company?”

On a heavy sigh, Noelle leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure.”

“I heard your door slam not too long before you knocked. I assume you and Farran had an argument?”

“You could say so.” Noelle dunked her teabag for good measure. Convinced it had steeped long enough, she dropped the soppy pouch onto the table and watched as liquid pooled around it.

Anne reached a slender hand across the table to clasp Noelle’s. “Things are only complicated if you ignore what’s in your heart.”

“Anne, there’s so many things I don’t understand.” The words came out in a rush that gained momentum with their freedom. “Torcs aren’t supposed to move without help. Pieces of wood can’t be buried in sand yet saturated with water. Puncture wounds deep enough to fit my thumb in up to my second knuckle don’t heal overnight.”

Anne’s hand squeezed more tightly, offering encouragement, yet she said nothing.

“I slept with Farran. It was incredible. I thought he was really, you know,
there
with me. Really feeling the same things I was. I don’t know how he couldn’t have. And then, I find out it was all an act. A great seduction just to get me to say those stupid words.”

Withdrawing her hand, Anne gave Noelle a sympathetic smile. “I’ve never known Farran to be anything less than honest. Maybe you misunderstood?”

Noelle waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh he had pretty words. Plenty of them. He tried to cover his mistake by telling me he was worried about me. That he wanted to keep me safe. But when I challenged him to follow through on his part, he couldn’t answer. Wouldn’t. He left.”

A frown touched the high arch of Anne’s elegant eyebrows. In her thoughtful stare, Noelle observed secrets. Things Anne knew but wouldn’t tell her. Sincerity mixed with that private knowledge, however, making it difficult for Noelle to believe Anne would tell her lies.

“Aside from the evil Farran battles, he has his own private demons to fight. I’ll tell you two things, Noelle, and I pray you listen. If you don’t, I fear the devastation you’ll cause.”

A chill wafted down Noelle’s spine. The urge to run away before Anne could tell her things she didn’t want to hear pressed hard. She squirmed in her chair, caught by an even greater, warring curiosity. “Go on,” she muttered.

“Farran’s not lying to you. The oath he wants will keep you safe. It will save his life too.”

Exhausted by the same spiel, Noelle let out a heavy sigh. “He’s said as much.”

“Don’t press him. When he’s ready to let his past go, he’ll tell you everything. You’ll understand, and whatever you feel for him now will only deepen.”

She took a moment to process the information. Not entirely certain she understood, she frowned at Anne. “You mean he’s got some tragic past?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled over the rim of her mug. When she set it down, the smile vanished into sharp warning. She lowered her voice, leaned in closer. “Tell him the Sudarium is in Ohio. Before Mikhail does it for you. If you tell him
why
you hid it, he’ll understand. But if you don’t, Noelle, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to make it right.”

Noelle recoiled, sending her chair rocking precariously on its rear legs. She leaned forward before she toppled backward, and the chair crashed in place with a
thunk
. “How do you know?” she cried in a whisper. “I was the only one there. I’ve told no one.”

“I told you I can see things. When I held your hand just now, I saw the board you loosened in the floor.
Tell him
. Before you can’t.”

Anne drained her mug and rose. “He’s outside in the gardens, where he goes to think.” Standing at the side of the table, she smiled down at Noelle. “While you’re at it, you might also mention how you really feel about him. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

Speechless, Noelle stared at Anne’s back as she retreated through the swinging silver door. How she really felt? How could Anne know? Noelle wasn’t even sure she understood all that Farran made her feel. And how in the hell had her being upset over Farran’s rejection ended up in a lecture on where she’d failed?

She turned her mug in lazy circles, grumbling to herself. If anything Anne had said was true, it was the Sudarium. Though she couldn’t explain how Anne knew it rested beneath floorboards in Ohio, Noelle wasn’t foolish enough to think if she didn’t come clean with Farran, whatever chance she had at holding on to him would slip through her fingers. No man liked to be lied to. And that’s exactly what she was doing every time she avoided the subject or hoped it would simply go away.

Her stomach in knots over what she must do, she stood and smoothed her palms on her sweatpants. Outside. If she could find the gardens, she’d get this over with. It had waited too long as it was. Besides, she’d rather tell him now when he’d hurt her as much as he could, than give him the opportunity to soothe the wounds and make her bleed later.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d take her home before he could get close enough that she didn’t want to leave.

CHAPTER 31

Farran palmed the pommel of his sword as he scanned the fence for the predators he could feel. Unholy eyes watched and waited. Vile beings scurried amongst the dried foliage. Branches snapped, leaves crunched. The whispered hiss of evil floated on the slight breeze. But only shadows met his watchful eye.

The darkness in Farran’s soul stirred in recognition of its kind. It brimmed in his blood, tormented his thoughts. Urged him to step beyond the protected boundary, engage, and join their unholy ranks.

They would fight again tonight, and he with them. Soon, though, battle would become an impossibility. If his next kill did not wrest him into that black abyss, the act of fighting would rent pain far worse than any injury.

’Twas what Caradoc battled. With each sunrise, Caradoc’s pain intensified. Each night he drew his sword, Farran prayed his brother would return. God only knew how long any of them might linger on this earth. If God was kind, Farran would hear Noelle’s oath and be spared the chains of inescapable agony. Yet Farran had learned centuries ago, kindness was not part of the Almighty’s composition. The very exchange with Noelle in the bedroom proved such. The Grand Creator asked for naught less than all a man could give. And for Farran, far more than he could manage.

Footsteps behind him brought him up short. He spun around, reflex tightening his sword arm. At the sight of Noelle, he swore beneath his breath. Arms crossed over her chest to ward off the cold, she picked her way through the remnants of snow. In the moonlight, a halo of silver illuminated her creamy skin and danced off her silken hair. Were it not for the breath that clouded around her, he would have sworn he looked upon a specter.

The creatures in the trees stirred. Hushed voices took on an anxious hum. Anger that she would risk her safety by venturing outdoors cracked through Farran’s momentary awe. He clenched his teeth tight, his fingers even tighter, and scowled.

“Farran, I need to talk to you.”

“Go inside!” he snapped. “You should not be out here.”

Defying him, she continued to close the distance between them. “I’m not a prisoner. You said so yourself. I need to talk to you, and it won’t wait.”

As she arrived at his side, he swiped an arm out to push her away from the iron fence. She stumbled, but moved forward. At the pressure he continued to apply to her shoulder in hopes she would retreat the way she had come, however, she dug her heels in and pushed back on his hand. “Stop it!”

“Nay, get yourself inside, damsel. We will talk come morn.”

She twisted free of his hold and flung his arm aside. “No, we won’t. I’ve done something I’m not proud of. You’re going to listen to me while I have the courage to tell you!”

Something deep inside him splintered at her words. She regretted their joining. He had dared to hope, and had erred. Could the Almighty be more cruel? As the fist of darkness around his heart squeezed and its vile claws pierced, he turned away before she could see how her rejection affected him. “Go inside, Noelle,” he repeated in a flat whisper. He inhaled deeply to strengthen his voice. “There is no need for you to clear your conscious. That you regret what we have done ’tis obvious.”

Tiny hands clawed at his shoulder in a futile attempt to turn him around. Her touch burned like a hot poker. Unable to stomach her insistence to speak the words, he braced himself against the pull and took another step forward.

Noelle darted around him and pulled on his arm, forcing him to come about. Her voice rose several octaves as she cried, “What is the
matter
with you? Is it always about you? Always what you want? Damn it, Farran I’m not talking about—”