Darkest Nyte Page 11

  His head slumped forward. She glanced at the young Rand in the room and the Rand by her side and saw the same extreme emotions reflected in their features. Anguish and a deep sense of loss.

  Normally, she would not intrude into someone’s personal feelings, but it was important she understand more about this situation. She sensed the turmoil of the younger Rand, who clearly did not have the ability to shield his emotions as well as his older self.

  His emotions tore through her, sucked into a bottomless pit of agony in the center of his soul. The foundations of his life had been shaken by whatever event had just occurred.

  Trust and love for a man he cared for very much had been shattered. For a man named Nyte. And for someone else. For someone closer to him than anyone else....

  The realization struck her like a lightning bolt.

  The other someone was himself.

  He was suffering from a profound case of guilt.

  She took Rand’s hand, squeezing it gently, wishing she had words to offer that would help. But nothing could help unless he let it.

  She realized his hand felt fragile and old. She glanced at him and noticed his hair had gone white again and his face was lined with wrinkles.

  Right now, the best she could do was get him out of this place.

  "Let’s go," she urged.

  She concentrated and directed them back to the present. Rand didn’t interfere. When the mists cleared, she drew in a sigh of relief as she saw the ruins of Delphi, illuminated in moonlight, appear around them. Merlin sauntered up beside her, glanced at Rand’s bowed head, then turned to stare at her.

  She pet Merlin’s head.

  It was a rough ride.

  She took Rand’s hand and tugged him to his feet. "Rand, I’ll take you home now. You need to rest."

  "No, not yet." He glanced at the crystal ball. "Let me try one more thing."

  "But, Rand--"

  He squeezed her hands. "Lucinda, it’s important you understand what happened."

  She suspected there was more to it than that. He seemed to be looking for some kind of answer.

  He sat down facing the crystal ball again and gestured for her to do the same. "Maybe we can’t go back in time physically, but there is something else we can try."

  "You want to call up an image of what happened?" she asked.

  Since this would take much less energy than moving themselves physically through time, and with the energy of the Oracle working with them directly, they should be able to break through the barrier. She didn’t know who could have erected it, but whoever it was would have to be here directing the energy against them personally to have any kind of chance of stopping them from viewing the past. Either that, or he was a more powerful wizard than she could imagine.

  "All right," she agreed.

  Rand took her hand and stared into the crystal ball. She concentrated on sending Rand whatever energy he needed to accomplish his goal. The image of Clarissa dissipated, replaced by the swirling snowflakes. Another image appeared, this time of Nyte. He looked just as he did now, but his clothes were of an ancient style, including a long, black cape, and his hair flowed freely around his shoulders. A long sword hung at his side and an expression of anger colored his face.

  The scene shifted slightly to include Clarissa. She stood staring at Nyte, clearly in confrontation, her expression also hardened by anger. Lucinda’s heart clenched at the sight of Nyte with this other woman. They were at odds in the scene before her, but anger like that only occurred between people who cared deeply for one another.

  Rand’s hand tightened around hers and she could feel excitement pulsing through him, intermingled with a deep, throbbing ache.

  Lucinda wondered what the heated argument was about. The room they moved through was the room they’d seen Rand in when they’d traveled back in time, but clearly before whatever destructive force had hit.

  Nyte stalked toward Clarissa and she tilted her chin up defiantly. When Lucinda saw the resultant rage in Nyte’s face, a chill quivered up her spine. At that moment in time, he truly did look dangerous.

  Could Rand be right after all? Could Nyte have done the terrible thing Rand accused him of?

  The chill rippling along her spine increased and dizziness overtook her brain. She gripped Rand’s hand tighter.

  As the feeling of disorientation increased, she realized this was more than a reaction to what she was seeing inside the crystal. She felt something peculiar. Like a presence around them.

  The scene with Nyte and Clarissa grew cloudy, the sphere darkening as though full of black smoke, then slowly clearing until finally it regained its translucent state. It stood empty, revealing only the ruins around them reflected in its polished surface.

  She turned to Rand. "What was that? It felt like some kind of...."

  Her words trailed off as she saw that Rand still stared into the crystal ball, his eyes glazed as though under some kind of trance. Still searching for an answer.

  She placed her hand on his arm, offering energy if he needed it. A moment later, he turned his gaze to hers. "It was a spell blocking us from the past, and it had the same feel as Nyte’s magic."

  It had certainly felt different than any magic she had ever experienced. Stronger. But something more. It had been almost ... otherworldly.

  As for it being Nyte’s magic, she didn’t believe that, but she didn’t want to argue with Rand. He seemed too fragile.

  A thought occurred to her. Just as Rand had tried to use the crystal ball to convince her of Nyte’s misdeeds, maybe she could use it to convince Rand that Nyte had actually lost his memory.

  "Why don’t we try to find out when and how Nyte got amnesia?" she suggested.

  She focused again and this time the ball revealed a dark scene. It appeared to be a street, or rather, an alleyway. Brick walls lined either side. Garbage cans and refuse cluttered the view.

  Recognition dawned in her.

  "Paris. That’s the alleyway where I found Nyte."

  The center of the scene blurred, and sparks flared in a small, but growing, circle. A white cat, which had been stalking something behind a wooden crate, streaked out of the picture. The sparks flared to a blinding level. Then she saw the figure of a man, crouched down close to the ground. From the long dark hair tumbling down his back, she knew it was Nyte.

  She could sense his anger dissipating to a complete sense of disorientation. She could feel the emptiness of his mind, the sense of a part of him missing. Usually, she could sense memories packed in the corners of a person’s brain, just waiting to be opened and examined, like cardboard boxes lining the walls of an attic. But with Nyte, only hollow emptiness echoed through the corridors of his mind.

  She glanced at Rand and saw he felt it, too.

  She wondered why she hadn’t felt the same thing when she’d first met Nyte. Of course, after all the magic she’d performed this evening, her energy was very open and flowing, making her very sensitive to other people’s energy.

  She returned her gaze to the scene in the crystal ball. Embarrassment flashed through her at the thought of Rand seeing what would follow--with her and Nyte in varying degrees of undress. She released Rand’s hand and stopped sending energy to the ball. It clouded, then cleared again.

  Rand nodded and stood up.

  "All right, Lucinda. I concede that Nyte has truly lost his memory."

  Thank heavens. Relief surged through her at finally having the issue settled.

  "We are now faced with a very interesting question."

  Her flood of relief froze at his tone. He turned to her, his gaze intent.

  "Who blocked us from going into the past?"

  Chapter 9

  Lucinda did not want to think about unknown forces with mysterious agendas.

  After accompanying Rand to his house and talking for hours about who or what could have blocked them from the past, with no reasonable suggestions forthcoming, she finally decided to leave the mystery to Rand and head
home.

  She gathered the crystals and other paraphernalia into her bag, then scooped Merlin into her arms. After teleporting into the den, she put her stuff away, then opened the door to the living room.

  "There you are." Nyte looked up from the Asimov novel he held in his hand.

  He had started a fire--safely contained in the fireplace she was pleased to see--and the room glowed with its welcoming light.

  "Do you always stay out this late?" he asked, his gaze scrutinizing the length of her as though searching for something out of place.

  Great. Now he was acting like her father. If she weren’t so tired, she would have responded with some snappy retort, but instead she simply shrugged as she moved into the room. She knew she should go straight to bed, but the firelight playing across the soft fabric of the couch in rippling shadows mesmerized her, drawing her toward it. It looked so warm and cozy, and it was so close. Even though her bedroom would provide an easy escape from Nyte’s question, the long walk upstairs was simply too daunting.

  "Have a good time?" The tight set of his jaw told her he sincerely hoped not.

  She slumped onto the couch, exhaustion seeping into her bones. "Not really."

  She stretched her legs across the couch and leaned back on the armrest, allowing her eyelids to drift closed. The warmth of the fire on her skin and the delicate crackling sound gently lulled her. Pushing through time, even with the help of a supercharged magical engine like the Oracle, had taken a lot out of her.

  "You look tired."

  It sounded like an accusation rather than a concerned comment. She glanced toward him and noticed his fingers clamped tightly around the book, which belied his otherwise relaxed stance.

  "Did Randalph keep you busy?"

  She sighed. Just what she needed. Nyte in a storm of jealousy, grilling her.

  "You mean did he chase me around the couch all evening? No, nothing like that."

  She flung her arm across her eyes, primarily to block the light, but a little to hide her irritation.

  "Lucinda?" His voice had lost its domineering tone, replaced with a gentle note of concern. "Are you all right?"

  "I’m fine. As you said, I’m just tired."

  She heard a slight creak, telling her Nyte had risen from his chair. She could feel him moving closer. A second later, she felt the heat of him very close, then the light touch of his hands on her shoulders. As his fingers gently manipulated the muscles of her neck and upper back, warm soothing energy seeped into her, releasing one kind of tension, but triggering another. She felt it coil inside her, like a snake ready to strike.

  She sat up, needing a moment to calm her confused physical reactions, and Nyte shifted into position behind her. He stroked the length of her back, generating an annoying arousal of sensations: melting warmth, mounting excitement, and yearning deep in the pit of her stomach.

  But try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to move out of reach. His touch felt wonderful and she didn’t want him to stop. A persistent part of her insisted a back rub would revive her sagging reserve of energy.

  So what about the overactive hormones surging through her?

  Ignore them, that persistent part urged.

  His hair brushed against the side of her neck as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I missed you."

  At the sensation of his breath swirling into her ear, she sucked in a deep breath. Before she could decide how something on the edge of tickling could feel so intensely sensual, his lips nuzzled her neck, and another jolt of hormones spurted through her. The fine hairs along her spine flicked upright, like soldiers snapping to attention.

  Nyte certainly commanded her full attention.

  He stroked her neck with his fingertips on one side and nuzzled with his lips on the other.

  Surrounded. His sensual onslaught had her ready to fall before the battle had even begun.

  She turned to face him, drawing her sensitized neck out of the target zone. "Nyte, I--"

  Oops, tactical error. His lips engaged hers in a gentle persuasion.

  Remembering the last time he’d kissed her and what had followed, she knew she should pull away, but her breasts ached for his touch, her nipples tightening to hard buds. A throbbing began low in her vagina, desperately screaming for him to ease it.

  The tip of his tongue traced the inside of her lips and the thought burned away entirely with the heat of her need. Instead, she surrendered, sliding her arms around his neck, and concentrated on enjoying the full effect of his mouth on hers.

  His arm slipped under her legs and he picked her up. How he knew where he was going as he carried her up the stairs and along the hallway, she wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t be able to navigate a straight line with the delicious confusion of sensations interfering with her internal compass--although it didn’t work that well at the best of times.

  Every cell in her body perked to life as he eased her to her feet, never breaking the contact of their lips. Her breasts tightened as they traveled the length of his hard, broad chest, his textured wool sweater stimulating her nipples to hard peaks. Her knees grew weak as her thighs pressed against his.

  Once she stood more or less on her own, he shifted his hands to her shoulders and drew his face from hers. Moonlight from the window down the hall glittered in his midnight eyes.

  "Lucinda, tell me you want me."

  "I want you." The words--husky and filled with desire--escaped before she realized what she was saying.

  He smiled then kissed her again. Short. Sweet. Drugging. As he stared into her eyes, her lips burned with the need to join with his once more.

  She ran her hands along his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his strong muscles. She was becoming totally addicted to this man’s effect on her senses.

  She hadn’t lied when she’d said she wanted him. In fact, he’d become a craving she could barely control.

  The realization struck that if she didn’t control it, it would control her. A chill quivered the length of her spine. He would control her.

  Then his lips captured hers again.

  "Lucinda. Tell me you want to make love with me." He cradled her face in his hands, a look of deep longing in his eyes. "Invite me to your bed."

  She clung to his shoulders. "I want you to...." She heard the words trembling from her mouth. She licked her lips. "I need...."

  Need? Good heavens, he was like a drug, and she was turning into a junky.

  Addicted to love.

  But it wasn’t love. It was lust. And she would not let it control her.

  "No." She shook her head, a little too vigorously. "No, I can’t." She slipped out of his arms.

  "Lucinda, wait."

  She shoved open the bedroom door, then slipped inside. As soon as it clicked shut behind her--putting a barrier safely between her and the man who controlled her senses--she leaned against the door, waiting for the frantic pace of her breathing to slow. She could sense Nyte on the other side, so close she could almost touch him. She flattened her hand against the wood, her fingers aching to touch his warm skin instead. Her eyelids closed and she searched deep inside herself for the strength to keep control of her riotous desires.

  The strength to keep control of herself.

  * * * *

  Leaning against the door, Nyte dragged in deep breaths as he tried to calm his pounding heart. Damn, but he wanted her. Life with Lucinda was never boring, but it certainly could be frustrating. He didn’t know how long he could go on reaching the brink and then pulling back.

  As long as she needs you to, his heart insisted.

  He just hoped she’d give in to her need before he exploded with frustration.

  * * * *

  "Focus on this point." Lucinda pointed to the small blue mat on the ground beside her.

  Nyte watched her with full attention, as he did during all their lessons.

  "I want you to reappear right here."

  She was teaching him to transport himself instantaneously from
one location to another. The first attempt would be to move across the room. It was easier for a student to transport to a visible destination because then they only had to concentrate on moving and not on imagining the location, too. Distance wasn’t a major factor. Once a wizard knew how to push through space, it was as easy to move ten thousand miles as it was to move ten feet.

  "Imagine yourself in this spot. Imagine the softness of the carpet beneath your feet rather than the hardwood you’re standing on." She gestured toward the window and the bright beam of sunlight shining across her hand. "Imagine the sun warming your face." She drew her flattened hands up and down over the carpet as though defining a rectangle of space. "Focus on where you’re going and imagine yourself there, then mentally give yourself a push." She dropped her hands to her sides and smiled. "Are you ready?"

  He nodded, then prepared himself by taking deep breaths, calming his body and his mind. Just as she’d taught him to do.

  She watched as his chest rose and fell with his breathing exercises, and her own breathing fell into time with his. The sound of his hands running up and down his thighs, across the black denim fabric, drew her attention. The distracting movement invoked images of her own hands following the same path, his muscular legs hard beneath her palms, then slowly sliding higher....

  "Lucinda, I said I’m ready. Shouldn’t you step back?"

  Her gaze darted to his face. Had he seen her half-glazed eyes and known what she’d been thinking? She couldn’t read anything in his expression, but he seemed more intent on his concentration than on her.

  And she should be, too.

  She reminded herself about the dangers of this lesson. If he overshot, he could rematerialize inside the wall. On the other hand, if he lost concentration, or if he wasn’t focused firmly enough on his destination, either he would not move at all, or he could careen off in some wild direction to a location that seemed more real to him. Like something he’d read in a book. Or a travel magazine--and he’d been reading a lot of those. Then there was the possibility that he would appear too high above the ground, or too low.