Scorched by Darkness: Eternal Mates Series Book 18 Read online

  “I can…” His voice was low, lacked conviction as he gazed at his mate.

  “Why would she refuse to heal him?” Mackenzie bit out, refusing to give up as he clearly was. “She connected with him in Rosalind’s garden and even in Hell. I saw it. Why would she reject him now?”

  Vail looked at her and shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps there was too much darkness in him when he died and that is why nature will not help me heal him.”

  No. She couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t.

  “Try again!” she snapped.

  “Mac,” Syn whispered and tears filled Mackenzie’s eyes again as she knew what her friend was saying, as she felt it deep in her shattered heart.

  He was gone, and she had to accept that nothing was going to bring him back now.

  A harrowing roar sliced through the night and her gaze whipped to her left. Pain scraped her insides raw as Fuery raced towards them, as his wild eyes fixed on Hartt. Jagged black lines chased over him and he disappeared, made her jump as he reappeared right beside his friend’s head.

  He fell to his knees and framed Hartt’s face with his shaking hands. “No.”

  More tears spilled down her cheeks as they fell from Fuery’s eyes too, as he looked as if his entire world was falling apart, something she felt inside too.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wanted to reach for him to console him but couldn’t bring herself to release Hartt’s hand.

  Fuery threw his head back and unleashed another howl of pain, one that wanted to rip from her too as she gazed at her mate.

  A frigid wind blew across them and almost knocked Fuery onto his back. He lowered his head and braced his hands against the ground, and Mackenzie caught her hair, pulled it back to stop it from whipping her in the face.

  Fuery stared at her.

  His eyes slowly widening.

  Those wild eyes dropped to Hartt and he grabbed his friend’s shoulders and shook him. “Wake up!”

  Gods, the poor male had lost his mind.

  She could only stare at him as he continued to shake Hartt, as he patted his face and spoke in the elf tongue, his lyrical words all rolling together into a fast stream that had Vail frowning at the male.

  And then Vail looked at her with that same crazed glimmer in his eyes.

  His words shook her as he placed his right hand on Fuery’s shoulder. “It is possible he did not gain that ability, Fuery. Or that it will have passed.”

  Ability?

  She was even more confused when Fuery growled at him in the common tongue.

  “He must have. He can come back!” Fuery went back to shaking Hartt as if trying to rouse him.

  Her eyes slowly widened as she pieced together a possible answer. They were talking about her abilities. Her power to resurrect.

  She looked at Vail.

  He shifted his gaze to meet hers. “It might explain why nature refused to even connect with me in order for me to heal him. She did not need to in order to bring him back to life.”

  “What might explain?” she barked, losing patience as hope began to build inside her, a tiny spark that felt as if it might destroy her if she lost it this time.

  “You mated with Hartt,” Rosalind said, looking as impatient as Mackenzie felt, and she was grateful to the witch for looking as if she was going to explain everything rather than talking about things as if Mackenzie knew everything about elves already. “He took your blood. When an elf takes blood from the vein, they temporarily gain the abilities of the species they took it from. Mackenzie, Vail is right. It is possible that Hartt didn’t gain that ability or that too long has passed since he took your blood.”

  No, she couldn’t think that way. Not now that the spark of hope became an inferno, lit her blood on fire and resurrected her heart.

  She looked at Hartt and willed him to walk through the veil of darkness, to navigate his way back towards the light. She clutched his hand in both of hers, closed her eyes and focused, turned her gaze inwards and shut out the world as she sought the bond that linked them. She wasn’t sure if it would be there if he was in the in-between world, in the shadows that loomed between life and death, but she had to try.

  She was so close to the last time she had been reborn in flames that she could still feel the shadows clinging to her, hadn’t shaken the last vestiges of her death.

  Her eyes snapped open as she felt it.

  The bond that tied them was fragile, stretched taut and close to snapping.

  She reached into it, surrendering to her need to guide him back, to show him the path. Heat licked at her skin, her blood turning to molten lava in her veins as she focused on breaching the veil.

  “Move the hell back.” Syn’s voice was already distant as Mackenzie sank into the darkness, as the shadows gathered around her.

  She heard growls, felt the others move away, and focused on Hartt, growing more confident now as the connection between them seemed to get stronger. She willed him to sense her, to feel her just beyond the veil as it refused to give, merely bent like rubber wherever she pressed against it.

  The only way to reach the other side was through death and she feared that if she walked that route, the connection between her and Hartt would be momentarily severed, and he would be lost.

  “Come on,” she murmured, focusing harder, letting the fire dance over her skin, unafraid of burning him now.

  Even phoenixes weren’t born knowing how to resurrect.

  Their first death was done with a guide like this and with knowledge of how to embrace the fire, and if that knowledge failed them, the guide would help them with their own cleansing flames.

  She let her fire spread, didn’t try to hold it back as she sensed the others were at a safe distance now, unlikely to be hurt if she went all-out.

  Or when Hartt resurrected.

  Hope shone brighter as her flames leaped to him but the scent of burning flesh didn’t come. She opened her eyes and stared at the golden flames that chased over his hand, that swirled up his arm without harming him. Beneath the fire, light began to glow under his skin.

  “That’s it, Hartt. Follow the light. Follow my voice. I’m here… Just punch through the veil. I’m waiting for you.”

  Amber light began to shine between the tiny black scales of his armour, slowly rolling up his arm, and she gasped as his other hand caught fire, as his feet followed suit and flames leaped and chased up his legs.

  “Mac, move back now!” Syn hollered, fear tainting her voice.

  Not yet.

  He needed to be closer. If she left him now, he might lose his way.

  “I’m waiting here, Hartt. Don’t keep me waiting. Your ki’ara needs you.”

  The light glowing from the cracks in his armour suddenly swept over his chest and condensed in a blinding burst of it above his heart.

  His body lifted at that point of light, arms and legs dangling as his chest arched upwards and he began to float into the air.

  “Mac!” Syn yelled.

  This time, Mackenzie listened to her.

  She teleported, her boots touching snow just as the shockwave hit her, sent her flying forwards. She hit the icy ground face first, grunting as heat seared her bare back, instantly melting the snow.

  Mackenzie twisted onto her knees, coming to face the other way.

  Hartt hovered in the air, great wings of fire streaming from his back. She gasped as those flames suddenly extinguished and he dropped to his feet and fell to his knees. She raced towards him, not caring that she was nude—as naked as he was now. She skidded in the mud as she reached him, slid to a halt beside him and stared at him, part of her unable to believe what she was seeing.

  He blinked at her, confusion shining in his glowing golden irises.

  Mackenzie hurled herself at him and kissed him, held him tight as she willed him to respond, cursing him a million times over in her head for doing this to her, for breaking her heart and making her believe she had lost him.

  He slowl
y lifted his arms and wrapped them around her, jerkily kissed her, his actions sluggish and speaking of the fatigue and weakness she could sense in him.

  On the heels of relief, came rage.

  She pulled back and slapped him hard across his cheek.

  “You son of a bitch.”

  Chapter 32

  It wasn’t quite the welcome back that Hartt had expected, but then a part of him hadn’t expected to come back.

  His cheek burned, his ear on that side ringing as he stared at Mackenzie, as he struggled to piece everything together and get his senses back online and his body back under his control.

  “Next time you plan on scaring me like that, warn me,” she bit out, the anger in her tone revealing her worry to him, speaking of the love that beat in her heart for him.

  He managed to lift his hand and rub his cheek, grew aware of how naked he was as her gaze dropped to his body and the others came jogging over to him. He was relieved to see everyone was all right. His gaze strayed back to Mackenzie.

  Everyone except his beautiful mate that was.

  He didn’t miss the fact she was naked too, but was too tired to growl and flash fangs at all the males, warning them not to look at her. Thankfully, they did him the kindness of keeping their eyes on him.

  He frowned as he realised there were more of them than before.

  His brow furrowed as he looked at Fuery, as his friend lingered just beyond the others as they crowded around him, the pain in his eyes tearing at Hartt.

  He hadn’t meant to scare Fuery or Mackenzie, had thought resurrecting would be easy but gods, it hadn’t been. For a moment there, he had thought he was going to be stuck in that shadowy world forever, going in circles until either time ceased to exist or the vile wraith he had known instinctively was Death caught him.

  He turned his head and pressed his forehead to Mackenzie’s, tugged her back to him as he recalled what had happened in that strange black realm.

  “I heard you,” he whispered, breathing the words against her lips. “I felt you… there. Guiding me. I would have been lost without you. I am lost without you.”

  She smiled shakily. “It wasn’t only me. If Fuery hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known about you taking my abilities through my blood… I wouldn’t have known I needed to guide you back to us.”

  Hartt leaned to his right and held his other hand out to Fuery, willed him to come to him. Fuery kept his eyes on the ground as he did so, heaved a shuddering sigh and rubbed his knuckles across his cheeks below his eyes. The tears he had tried to clear away immediately darted down them again, bringing ones to Hartt’s eyes too.

  Fuery finally looked at him as he neared, frowned and held his hand up, and a thick black quilt appeared in it. Hartt held back his growl as his friend placed it around Mackenzie’s shoulders first before drawing it around Hartt’s, because Fuery only meant well, wasn’t trying to steal her from him.

  He opened his arm to Fuery as the male sank to his knees beside him and wrapped him in an embrace too, holding both him and Mackenzie, eternally grateful to have both of them in his life. He reached for the bonds he shared with both of them. He felt the one he had with Mackenzie and was relieved to know it could survive a phoenix death and resurrection.

  The bond he had with Fuery was slower to come into focus, and for a chilling heartbeat he thought it was gone, but then he sensed it as Fuery reached for him, as the blood bond and the spell that linked them revealed itself.

  “We should move somewhere warmer.” Rosalind continued before he could agree with her, “Mostly because I’m freezing my tits off.”

  Vail gathered her into his arms and rubbed her back through her thick clothing. “To the cottage?”

  She shook her head, but Hartt beat her to speaking.

  “What happened to the mage?” He looked at Mackenzie.

  Syn poked her in the shoulder. “Someone incinerated him. I don’t think blood magic can bring him back from that death.”

  Hartt was glad the bastard had gotten what he deserved, held Mackenzie a little closer as he realised that was the reason she was naked—she had died again, destroyed herself with her own fire in order to defeat the mage.

  He had tried to spare her that pain, but in the end he had only hurt her.

  “Come on. Cave, now.” Rosalind tapped Fuery on the back of his head, earning a growl from him.

  She disappeared before Fuery could turn on her, whisked away by Vail. Hartt mustered his strength to teleport, but darkness swept around him before he could manage it, and when it fell away, warmth caressed him. Mackenzie pressed closer to him, and he huffed as he felt her naked curves against his, thought about how things had ended the last time she had resurrected and felt the first stirring of desire.

  He summoned clothes from his quarters, the thick winter ones he had discarded on the battlefield, and held them out to her. She wriggled onto her backside and pulled them on, donning the trousers first and then the jacket. Hartt glanced at his wrists, relieved to see the twin black and silver bands that contained his armour had survived the fire of his rebirth.

  He issued the mental command to it and scales swept over his body, covering him from neck to toe.

  “Guess we don’t have to worry about giving ourselves away now.” Syn tossed three logs and a handful of kindling onto the fire. It flared, showering sparks high into the arched ceiling of the cave, and greedily devoured the new fuel.

  Fuery sank to his haunches beside Hartt again, giving him the impression he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere without his friend, for a while at least. He doubted Fuery would let him out of his sight for the next year at a minimum.

  A black patch formed on the ground closer to the mouth of the cave to Hartt’s left and Frey rose out of it, holding on to Isla and Night’s hands, facing Grave. The King of Death was quick to release his brother and fuss over his mate, checking her from head to toe and back again. Frey’s blue gaze slid to Syn and then the fire, but Hartt had the feeling it would be slipping back to her again before the demon knew it.

  “It has not been pleasant to meet you all.” Grave finally stopped checking every inch of Isla, and turned to Mackenzie and Hartt. “But, should you ever need help with something, I owe you.”

  Hartt nodded. “Same here.”

  Mackenzie shifted so her side pressed against Hartt’s and snuggled close as he placed his arm around her shoulders.

  She looked at Grave. “Same goes for my guild. As a bonus, I’ll even add you to my do-not-kill list.”

  Grave scowled at her, but then his features softened and he nodded slightly. “I would appreciate that.”

  He turned to Isla and then his brother, and finally Frey.

  “Are you able to teleport us home?”

  Frey hesitated and snuck a glance at Syn, who kept her cheek to him. She had her gaze locked on the fire in a way that reeked of avoiding looking at him. He stared at her, a silent battle in his brightening eyes, and then huffed and grabbed Isla and Night, who both quickly seized hold of Grave as they dropped into a hole in the ground.

  “Well, thank my Dark Lord he’s gone.” Syn’s tone was a little too bright. A little too breezy. “I hope I never see him again.”

  She played with her black hair, twisting the softly spiked ends just above her right shoulder.

  And briefly touched her polished onyx horn on that side.

  Mackenzie stood and went to her, gathered her into a hug that had Syn scowling at her, looking as if she didn’t have a clue why his mate was holding her. Hartt shook his head and smiled. It fell from his face as he thought about his fight against the mage and recalled things about it. His violet gaze slid to Fuery.

  “I know why the mage targeted me. It wasn’t because of coin. He said something about how when we killed the huntress, he lost access to someone called Aryanna.” Hartt frowned as he remembered something else too.

  “Aryanna?” Fuery’s eyebrows knitted hard. “Do any of you know that name?”


  Rosalind and Vail shook their heads, and neither Syn nor Mackenzie looked as if it was familiar to them as they broke apart.

  “I think she’s a witch,” Hartt put in and everyone looked at him. “The mage mentioned power. Something about a Crow beating him to her power.”

  Rosalind stiffened. “A Crow? You’re sure he said Crow?”

  Hartt nodded.

  Concern washed across her face.

  “What is it?” Hartt pushed to his feet and came to face her, wanted to growl when she looked at her mate rather than answering him.

  “This is a little worrying,” she said softly, her pale eyebrows furrowing. Her blue gaze shifted back to Hartt. “A Crow is… They’re a sort of witch, but none of my kind would dare call them that in front of another. They’re reviled. We call them Crows because they steal from the dead. Not anything physical. It’s power they steal. Spells. Memories too if the tales witches whisper about them are right.”

  “So this Aryanna is dead?” Hartt frowned again when she shook her head.

  “Possibly not. We only say they steal from the dead because… It’s hard to explain. The legends say that a Crow isn’t born a Crow. They become one. They’re born with the gift. They’re normal witches until something happens to them and reveals what they are… a creature born of the death of another of their kind.”

  Hartt wasn’t wholly following her, tried to make sense of what she was saying but found it hard to believe when she had labelled it as a legend. “So a Crow is a witch born with all the knowledge of a previous Crow, but they don’t know they’re a Crow until something awakens them?”

  She nodded. “Because of the accumulated knowledge they gain, they’re extremely powerful and dangerous. They have thousands of spells at their disposal, ones lost to other witches. If a Crow is after something, then that can’t be good.”

  Hartt had to agree with that. “It would have to be something they need… something that could make them more powerful.”

  He couldn’t imagine what one of these Crows might need that wasn’t already in their head courtesy of whatever magic or dark power had created them.