Read Online Forever in Darkness (novella) (Order of the Blade #4) by Stephanie Rowe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Rowe
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bellowing his loss and his failure to the dark night. Inside his head began the
dark chant of the curse, tempting him toward that bottomless chasm from which
he would never emerge.
His weapons began to burn in his
arms, once again straining to be released. To be used against him.
"No!" He shouted his
denial, even as the doom began to circle him. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t
succumb. Alice needed him. She was coming back, and this time, he had to keep
her alive.
But still the darkness rose within
him, stripping away at his sanity, the agony of the loss burning too deep,
tearing away at his will. Fighting against the desperation, Ian staggered the
few yards across the grave to the headstone of his ancestor.
He fell to his knees on Augustus's
grave, still holding Alice desperately. He stared at the name engraved on the
stone, the one he'd visited religiously for so many centuries. No warrior had
been as great as Augustus, but the curse had still destroyed him. What chance
did Ian have if even Augustus had fallen?
But Augustus hadn't had Alice to
stay alive for.
With a force of will beyond what
he'd ever had to exert before, Ian set Alice on the dirt and released her. Her
fragile body was so pure and innocent in front of the headstone that marked the
life of such a deadly warrior. Ian braced his hands on his thighs, staring into
the face of the woman whose spirit was suffering some unimaginable hell
somewhere, because he hadn't managed to keep her alive. Because he hadn't been
able to bond with her.
The enormity of his failure fought
to consume him, and Ian's upper lip raised in a snarl of defiance. "Fuck
you," he said to the curse. "I have a job to do. This isn't
over."
Slowly, Ian reached for Alice's arm
and lifted it. He pressed his lips to the unmarred skin, then raised her hand
to the heavens. "I will not fail you," he promised. "I swear on
my ancestor's soul that I will stay alive, and I will find you when you come
back."
But even as he said it, despair loomed
up inside him, and he felt the raw power of the curse that had consumed the
strongest, most powerful warriors again and again and again. Men far stronger
than he.
He knew then, that he couldn't do
it on his own. Alice was the force to drive him to his grave, but she was also
the only thing strong enough to keep him out of it. With a sharp crack, Ian
called out his mace. He angled one of the blades across the hem of Alice's
shirt and then sliced a long strip off it.
Determination and focus pulsing
through him, Ian stretched the piece of fabric between his hands. The white
fabric was stained with blood from the wound that had killed her, a grim
reminder of what would happen if he succumbed to the curse and failed her again.
He couldn’t truly blood bond with
her while she was dead, but he was going to do it anyway. He would honor her
with the promise of a Calydon to his mate, and create a connection that would
hold them together until he could find her again.
Ian sliced the tip of the mace
across his forehead. The cut oozed with his lifeblood as he set the strip of
fabric across his forehead. He positioned the part with Alice's blood on his
wound and let their blood merge together. There was no magic, no hum of
connection the way there would have been in a true blood bond, but it didn't
matter. Their blood was mingled, and it was done.
As he tied the ends of the fabric
around his head, he gave her the promise that someday he would offer her for
real. In person. The ritual words of the blood bond between a Calydon and his
mate. Mine to you. Yours to me. Bonded by blood, by spirit and by soul, we
are one. No distance too far, no enemy too powerful, no sacrifice too great. I
will always find you. I will always protect you. No matter what the cost. I am
yours as you are mine.
Rightness rippled through him, and
power flooded him.
Alice was in his soul now, and he
was keeping her there.
Ian took one last look at the woman
lying on the grave of his
bellowing his loss and his failure to the dark night. Inside his head began the
dark chant of the curse, tempting him toward that bottomless chasm from which
he would never emerge.
His weapons began to burn in his
arms, once again straining to be released. To be used against him.
"No!" He shouted his
denial, even as the doom began to circle him. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t
succumb. Alice needed him. She was coming back, and this time, he had to keep
her alive.
But still the darkness rose within
him, stripping away at his sanity, the agony of the loss burning too deep,
tearing away at his will. Fighting against the desperation, Ian staggered the
few yards across the grave to the headstone of his ancestor.
He fell to his knees on Augustus's
grave, still holding Alice desperately. He stared at the name engraved on the
stone, the one he'd visited religiously for so many centuries. No warrior had
been as great as Augustus, but the curse had still destroyed him. What chance
did Ian have if even Augustus had fallen?
But Augustus hadn't had Alice to
stay alive for.
With a force of will beyond what
he'd ever had to exert before, Ian set Alice on the dirt and released her. Her
fragile body was so pure and innocent in front of the headstone that marked the
life of such a deadly warrior. Ian braced his hands on his thighs, staring into
the face of the woman whose spirit was suffering some unimaginable hell
somewhere, because he hadn't managed to keep her alive. Because he hadn't been
able to bond with her.
The enormity of his failure fought
to consume him, and Ian's upper lip raised in a snarl of defiance. "Fuck
you," he said to the curse. "I have a job to do. This isn't
over."
Slowly, Ian reached for Alice's arm
and lifted it. He pressed his lips to the unmarred skin, then raised her hand
to the heavens. "I will not fail you," he promised. "I swear on
my ancestor's soul that I will stay alive, and I will find you when you come
back."
But even as he said it, despair loomed
up inside him, and he felt the raw power of the curse that had consumed the
strongest, most powerful warriors again and again and again. Men far stronger
than he.
He knew then, that he couldn't do
it on his own. Alice was the force to drive him to his grave, but she was also
the only thing strong enough to keep him out of it. With a sharp crack, Ian
called out his mace. He angled one of the blades across the hem of Alice's
shirt and then sliced a long strip off it.
Determination and focus pulsing
through him, Ian stretched the piece of fabric between his hands. The white
fabric was stained with blood from the wound that had killed her, a grim
reminder of what would happen if he succumbed to the curse and failed her again.
He couldn’t truly blood bond with
her while she was dead, but he was going to do it anyway. He would honor her
with the promise of a Calydon to his mate, and create a connection that would
hold them together until he could find her again.
Ian sliced the tip of the mace
across his forehead. The cut oozed with his lifeblood as he set the strip of
fabric across his forehead. He positioned the part with Alice's blood on his
wound and let their blood merge together. There was no magic, no hum of
connection the way there would have been in a true blood bond, but it didn't
matter. Their blood was mingled, and it was done.
As he tied the ends of the fabric
around his head, he gave her the promise that someday he would offer her for
real. In person. The ritual words of the blood bond between a Calydon and his
mate. Mine to you. Yours to me. Bonded by blood, by spirit and by soul, we
are one. No distance too far, no enemy too powerful, no sacrifice too great. I
will always find you. I will always protect you. No matter what the cost. I am
yours as you are mine.
Rightness rippled through him, and
power flooded him.
Alice was in his soul now, and he
was keeping her there.
Ian took one last look at the woman
lying on the grave of his
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