Chapter Seven

Amber felt oddly free and light. She held on to Damian like he was her lifeline. Hell, he was her lifeline. Letting go was not an option.

In a flash of light, the world solidified, and her feet landed on solid ground. Her arms continued to grip the strong body in front of her. Within his sheltering hold, the energy—that fiery sensation that burned and tingled as it raced through her whenever he touched her—encased her.

For just a moment, she embraced that elusive feeling of being protected and safe. Slowly, her stomach settled and her mind responded to the surroundings.

It was freezing.

A cold wind pummeled them in its furry and blew through the thin layer of her cotton shirt like it was tissue paper. She shivered and fought the disturbing desire to stay huddled against the large frame that was providing the only source of warmth. But sanity snapped back into place.

Amber pushed hard upon the solid chest in front of her and stepped out of his arms. Instantly, she felt the sudden emptiness as the fire ceased. She was aware that he let her go. He might be the executive of some big company, but the solid muscle under his expensive clothing was proof that he was no pencil-pushing figurehead.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to retain the receding heat and block the icy wind. She shivered again and shoved her clenched fists under her armpits to keep them from becoming popsicles.

He stood there guarded and silent—watching her.

“Where are we?” Her anger quickly pushed back the rising panic and overtook the original shock that had numbed her.

He reached up and extracted the violet scarf from around his neck. “North Dakota.”

“What?” Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Her misfiring brain cells held her in place as she tried to process his words. Slowly, Amber turned her head and took stock of her surroundings.

They were standing on the front porch of an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, North Dakota, if she was to believe him. There was nothing but drifting snow banks and open fields broken up by the occasional tree line as far as she could see. It was harsh, brutal and eerily empty.

Taking advantage of her frozen astonishment, Damian stepped forward and wrapped his scarf around her neck. With surprising tenderness, he carefully pulled the length of her hair out from under the scarf so the soft material was tucked against the skin of her neck.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked numbly. She would ignore the question of how for the moment. There was only so much information she could process at one time.

Damian stared at the nondescript wooden door of the farmhouse. “This is the eastern entrance to my…” He bit back his words, a brief flash of pain crossing his face. “The enclave.”

“Here? In the middle of nowhere, North Dakota?” She whipped out her arm and motioned at the barren landscape to emphasize her point.

His lips curled in a quirk of humor. “Yeah, doesn’t seem like a very smart choice.” He scanned the empty, cold land, a blank look holding his face. “When we first came to this land, it was wild and free, nothing but open space. Two thousand years ago, the entire continent was unclaimed. The location was chosen because of what it provided.”

She stifled a shiver. When he didn’t continue, she prompted, “And?”

He looked back at her. “And it suited our needs. Here,” he said, removing his long, wool coat and holding it open for her.

She lifted an eyebrow, doubting his sudden kindness.

“You’re freezing.” He lifted the coat slightly. “Please, put this on. It is not my intent to freeze you to death.”

Reluctant to trust his motivation, she was too logical to stand there shivering when a warm, winter coat was being offered. She turned and quickly shoved her arms into the waiting coat and tightened it around her. Instantly the shaking in her limbs stilled. His lingering warmth surrounded her and brought with it the faint hint of pine that she was beginning to associate with him.

Once again, he gently, almost reverently, pulled her long hair out from where it was trapped between the coat and her back letting it run through his fingers until it hung free. The soft caress sent whispers of pleasure coursing over her scalp and down her spine.

Unnerved by his kindness, she jerked away from his touch and spun back around, eyeing him warily. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, but otherwise showed no outward effect of being exposed to the cold weather. Evidently, the black wool suit jacket was warmer than it looked.

“Where did you get the stone?” he demanded softly.

She hesitated, her fist clenching tighter around the object in question, before admitting, “It was given to me.”

“By whom?”

“Does it matter? It’s mine,” she reasserted.

“Yes, it matters.”

She remained silent since divulging all of her secrets didn’t seem smart. After a second, he sighed.

“We need to contain the energy before it calls more—” He paused abruptly and looked around. He reached into his pocket and extended the gold ring that he’d pulled from the box earlier. “Here.”

Her confusion must have shown on her face. He pointed to the chain dangling below her fist that clenched the stone. “Put it on.”

“What?”

“The stone is attached to a chain. Put it on.”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed, her suspicion rising.

“To keep it safe.”

With slow, hesitant movements, she grasped the chain then lifted it over her head, the whole time keeping her gaze firmly on him. When the chain was around her neck, she reached back to lift her hair out from under the links then adjusted the scarf until the chain rested gently against her neck, the stone nestled between the rounded swell of her breasts.

She stiffened, retreating a step as he approached. “What are you doing?” Her hand went protectively over the stone.

He extended the ring again. “I believe this will snap in place around the stone and contain the energy. I don’t want the stone. But others will. We need to stop the energy broadcast that the stone is emanating, and the circle should do that.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she understood one important fact—he didn’t want the stone.

Again, relief swamped her. Did she trust him? Did she have a choice?

Her hand shook as she stretched it out to snatch the offered ring. What did he mean by ”contain the energy”? She fumbled with the chain, lifting it from her chest to eye the stone. The chain was attached to a corner of the stone by a small loop so it hung suspended in the diamond shape.

She lifted her gaze, unclear on what he wanted her to do. Damian reached out, extracted the ring from her grip, and then carefully set the circle around the stone where it rested in her palm.

Within seconds, the sensations died—the heightened awareness, the insistent vibration that rubbed imperceptibly over the hairs on her skin, the weighted denseness in the air that surrounded them were all gone.

Amazing.

“You felt that?” Damian held her gaze. “That was the energy. Now, pinch the ring into the small clasps on the corners of the stone to hold it in place.” A spark of stinging flames shot up her arm at the simple brush of his fingers over her palm. She flinched at the strange sensation and the quick withdrawal of his hand indicated he’d felt it too. Was that the energy? The odd feeling ignited a longing within her that was unfounded and unfamiliar.

She snapped the ring into place and let the stone fall back to her chest. It looked stunning, the violet diamond mounted within the simple gold ring resting against the navy cotton of her shirt.

“Now, your name.”

“Why?” She buttoned the coat then crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“So I can stop thinking of you as the lost beauty.”

His admission stunned her. She took a step back. Her instant denial was no doubt a result of the last time someone had called her beautiful. Nate. And look where trusting had gotten her then.

She cautiously assessed him. Like always, his clothing was impeccable and cut to accentuate his strength. The crisp white shirt under his dark suit appeared even whiter beside the golden tones of his skin, and the royal violet tie was knotted to perfection. Everything about him spoke of power. Despite all that had happened, he still drew her in, pulled at her until she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be protected by him. To be held and cherished by a man so totally in control.

“Amber.” The small concession was given as a challenge. She lifted her chin and waited.

He gave a slight nod in acceptance. “Amber. How appropriate.”

“Why?”

“Your name is very powerful,” he answered. “Amber—the blood of trees. It is formed from nature to shield and protect against infection, to give a tree a chance to heal as it restores itself from the inside out. It is the color of liquid sunshine, yellow for the midday sun and orange for the fiery sunset. It is alive, still and active. It is the balance that harmonizes yin and yang, as well as the past, present and future. It has the power to change negative energy into positive energy. But most importantly, it provides protection. Something you are now in need of.”

Her lips thinned. “I don’t need protection.”

“Oh, you need more protection than you can imagine.”

Her panic flared, but she tried to control it. It was a pointless endeavor, but she would contain it—there was no way she would let him see it. This was all too extreme and beyond real. Every fiber of her body rejected the crushing feeling of being trapped and forced into something she wanted no part of.

A chill that had nothing to do with the weather snaked over her. She exhaled, trying to maintain her calm and gather her wits. There had to be some logic in this. But there had been no logic to any of the things that had happened to her since New York City. Why should this be any different?

“How did we get here? No, wait.” She held up her hand to stop his answer. “I don’t want to know. Just take me home. I don’t care where we are or how we got here. Just take me home.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Obviously you can since you brought us here. What you’re saying is you won’t.”

She turned away and paced to the end of the narrow front porch. Her boots thumped against the worn planks of wood. The barren landscape that greeted her off the back and side of the house offered no escape and did nothing to ease her tension. She turned back to him.

“If there’s some big enclave here, where are you hiding it?”

“The energy field that circles our lands presents the illusion of what you would expect to see. The energy repels normal humans from investigating further and also prohibits anyone from entering who doesn’t have permission.”

She swallowed. Energy fields? “All right. I know who you are, but maybe I should ask what you are.”

Sighing, he extracted his hand from a pocket and rubbed it over the back of his neck. The first sign of frustration she’d seen from him. He returned his hand to his pocket and met her eyes.

“I’m an Energen. We are an evolved branch of homo sapiens and have been here since life began.”

He looked completely serious, but Amber was having a very hard time keeping a straight face. “Okay, I’ll play—evolved how?”

“By evolved, I mean we have the ability to control the energy and elements of the earth.”

This time, she did laugh. She scuffed her foot over the wisps of snow that had collected on the porch. “Really? You expect me to believe that?”

Her laughter did not spread to him. He continued to look at her with a straight face. “Can you find another explanation for how we arrived here?”

Her laughter died. Damn. “How’d you do that?” Guess it was time to tackle that question.

Now he smiled. “Energy. Simply put, I broke down the energy within us and then used the energy around us to move us here.”

Big damn. As advanced as humans might be, she’d not heard of any human traveling through the air via molecular disintegration as of yet.

“So, what—you’re an alien?” Seemed like the next logical thing to assume. As if aliens were logical.

“No.” He shook his head patiently. “I’m just as human as you are.”

He certainly looked human. But still, it was a little too extreme to easily process. Even with her exposure to the tribe shaman and his seemingly mystical abilities, jumping into the realm of foreign species with unnatural powers was an entirely different thing.

But then, she apparently had a tattoo permanently etched onto her hand because she’d touched a stone.

“Why am I here? What do you want with me?” Edging down her panic, she tried to focus on the facts. Stepping over to a window, she peered inside, but could see nothing through the white-backed curtain that blocked the view. She gave up and looked back to Damian.

His night-sky eyes stared into hers, making her feel exposed and emotionally vulnerable. “I told you. You are the Marked One.” He tilted his head, indicating her hand, which was hidden under the length of his coat sleeve. “There are prophecies going back thousands of years predicting your appearance. Telling of how you will have the power to influence the fate of the world. How you and you alone can turn the tide between good and evil. You, Amber, are now the most important person in my world. In the world of my people. It is my duty to bring you in.”

What? “Oh, no, no, no. That cannot be true. I am not that girl,” Amber denied as she edged toward the stairs. “Believe me. I’m not the adventure girl who’s going to change the world. Attending protest rallies is about as daring as I get. So you can take me home, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

The stoic look on his face told her Damian wasn’t buying it. She wet her lips, then darted down the short flight of steps and sprinted through the narrow path into the snow. She had no idea where she was going, but getting away was imperative. The need to escape pressed on her, propelling her legs until she dropped with a jolt, sunk thigh deep into a snowdrift.

“There’s nowhere to run.”

His cool voice chiseled at her nerves. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she leaned back and yanked on her leg until it emerged from the depths of the snow. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to stand here and wait for you to drag me off to my death.” She straightened and turned back to the house only to find him standing directly in front of her. Damn, he was quiet.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Amusement flickered over his face as he watched her shake and stomp the snow off her leg. “Or, as you say, drag you to your death. But I do need to turn you in.”

She froze. “What do you mean, turn me in?” What in the hell was he talking about? Panic edged back in to take an icy hold on her remaining calm.

He looked away to stare across the frozen field. The wind gusted up, pummeling them both as they stood open and exposed to the elements.

“It’s for your own protection.”

The way he refused to look at her had Amber doubting the truth of his last statement. She grabbed at her hair, the wind forcing it to dance and fly in wild streams around her head and over her face. Silently cursing, she tried to rein in the strands. This was one of those days where she wished she had the courage to just cut it all off.

She jumped when his hands brushed against her head to control the wild mass of flying hair. A spark that she now associated with pure energy raced along her scalp and down her back, warming her entire body. It edged back the panic and shot spears of longing straight to her core. How did he do that?

“There,” he said once she had the mass clamped tightly in her hands. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His hands still rested on her head, entwined within her hair. He looked down at her with an intensity that had her blood suddenly boiling. This man, this stranger, affected her in a way that he shouldn’t. In a way that should have her running away scared instead of slowing leaning forward, pulled in by his touch and the unchecked desire that was evident in his eyes.

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Come back to the porch. At least it offers some break from the wind.” He turned and walked toward the house without waiting to see if she followed. His assumption of her obedience irritated her, but there was nowhere to run. There were no tracks in the snow or even a plowed driveway to indicate that anyone had been at the farmhouse since the snow began last fall.

The house itself was well kept, with pale yellow paint, white trim and the broad white porch that stretched across the front of the two-story structure. Curtains hung closed over every window, and empty clay flower pots were tucked into the corners of the porch, waiting for spring to arrive. There was no hint of neglect, but it felt absolutely deserted.

Once again, logic won out over stubbornness. It was stupid, and cold, to stand out in the wind. And she wasn’t really scared of him. By him. Maybe it was because she’d watched him for so long that it felt like she knew him. Despite the oddity of what was happening and the exceedingly strange and unbelievable events that had been thrust upon her, the man himself did not inspire fear.

Now the events themselves, those were another thing.

She discounted the strange feelings left by his touch and followed him up the steps, lifting the hem of his coat to keep from tripping. She looked around and waited for him to say something.

He didn’t.

“So why do you think I’m this so-called Marked One?” she finally put out there as she took the time to roll up the sleeves of his coat. Questions were way preferred to the uncomfortable silence that threatened to pull away the false calm she presented.

“Because you are. The mark on the back of your hand—the white bird rising—is a rare and unique symbol that will only appear on the one who has the strength to control its power.”

Reflex had her tucking her exposed hands into the deep pockets of his coat.

“You’re wrong,” she bluffed. “I picked out the design and had the tattoo put on at a tattoo parlor. I’m not this Marked One.” Amber willed back the blush that would give her away.

“No. I’m not wrong.” His gaze held hers. “You are the Marked One. The energy tells me so. It screams of power, of vitality, of ancient ways that will be called to use with your arrival.”

So much for lying. Amber struggled for another answer. “Then there must be a mistake. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. That kind of thing happens all the time.”

He shook his head, denying her doubt. “We have waited thousands of years for your appearance. There is no mistake. No accident. No wrong girl. You, Amber, you are the one.”

Before she could fire off another denial, the door to the house swung open, eerily silent. Absent was the squeaky hinges or click of the door latch that usually accompanied the action.

Damian stepped between her and the man who had appeared in the doorway. Damian’s entire body became a mass of tightly held muscle. His hands were out of his pockets and clenched at his sides. He pulled his shoulders back, straightening his spine until every last inch of his imposing height was displayed.

He was primed and ready for something.

She snuck a quick peek from behind Damian to look at the new arrival. He was slightly taller than Damian, dressed entirely in black that matched the midnight black hair that brushed his cheekbones and the onyx depths of his eyes. The bulk of his finely toned muscles was clearly outlined under the thin cotton of the short sleeve shirt and impressed upon Amber that he could kick some serious ass.

Like Damian, the man exuded authority as if he was born with it. He owned it. Demanded it. And currently challenged Damian with it. Thankfully, Damian didn’t appear to be intimidated by him or the look he was giving them.

“Damian.” The man’s deep voice rumbled across the short distance between them. His face remained impassive. The man might be considered handsome if his chiseled features didn’t look like they were cut out of stone.

“Xander.” Damian’s voice held zero emotion.

The man crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What do you want?”

Damian’s back straightened even more, if that was possible. For some unexplainable reason, Amber reached out and rested her hand on his back. The heat, the vitality that sailed up her arm made her breath hitch. His muscles contracted at her touch.

Did he feel it too? That odd power that sizzled between them whenever they touched?

The stone burned against her chest, sending its own waves of energy spiraling through her. A strange sense of urgency had her reaching under the coat with her free hand to slip the stone under her shirt.

No one else needed to see it. Needed to know she had it.

The overwhelming claim to ownership came barreling back to her. Damian had proven himself a non-threat to the stone, so her defenses had gone down. But this new guy, he screamed threat.

“I’ve brought the Marked One.” Damian’s voice matched the elements, icy and cold. His words sounded hollow. But there was no doubt he fully intended to turn her over to this man. Still, she couldn’t muster the desire to pull her hand away from his back.

Like the stone, he belonged to her.

Hissing as if she’d been burned, Amber jerked her hand at the strange thought. She quickly stepped away, retreating from him. Her movements brought her into full view of the imposing man in the door. He assessed her with expressionless eyes before turning his attention back to Damian.

“I need proof.”

“You’ll get it when I see the council.”

“This is all a big mistake,” Amber jumped in, unwilling to go along with whatever plans they were making. “If I could use a phone, I can make a call and be on my way.” As impressed as she was with her ability to keep her voice normal, her small speck of self-importance was smacked back down when both men looked at her, then dismissed her.

“I can’t trust you, Damian.” There was just a hint of sadness in the man’s voice.

Damian inclined his head. “Accepted. You can collar us.”

The man thinned his lips and studied Damian intently before nodding. “As you wish.” He took one step back into the house before he paused. “Be sure about this, Damian. There’s no going back once you’ve entered.”

The warning was ominous and landed between them like a rock.

Amber started to inch backwards off the porch, but was halted by Damian’s firm grip. Fire followed his touch up her arm and across her chest, pulling tight and hard.

“I’m sure,” Damian stated crisply.

“I’m not,” she whispered.

The man eased back farther and held the door open. “You may enter.”

Damian exhaled and stepped forward, dragging Amber along with him.

What was she supposed to do now? Her feet dragged, and she pulled back, resisting Damian’s hold. But they both knew she had no hope of getting away. It would be pointless to scream or struggle further since it was obvious the other man wouldn’t help her and there was no one else around for miles.

Behind her, the door clicked closed, the sound echoing through the sudden quiet within the house. It resonated in her ears and transformed in her mind to the last nail being pounded into her coffin.

Standing there in the entryway of an empty house, sandwiched between two hard men, two strangers, the reality of her situation slammed into her.

She was trapped.

All possibilities of escape, of returning home, of the entire situation being a big, colossal mistake were wiped out when she crossed the threshold of the house. The chance to go back was gone. She felt that truth in every fiber of her body. The bird mark flamed to life on her hand and the stone hung heavy, hard and hot between her breasts.

Damian turned to face her, his grip still in place around her arm. His lips were pressed into a firm, thin line, but his eyes were on fire. They pulsed with the energy she felt. They had deepened to an almost black-blue and swirled with something undefined.

The energy burned and raced up her arm from where he held her, pushed at her senses and spoke of honor, truth and desire. A desire that coiled through her until her sex tightened and clenched in unknown arousal. She sucked in her breath at the sudden new sensation.

No man had ever affected her like that.

The virgin in her whimpered to know the secrets that whispered at the edge of the desire. The forbidden knowledge that she longed to understand and experience but never had.

In that moment, Amber was more afraid of the desire he stirred, of the longing that slammed through her heart than of whatever lay beyond the walls of the house.