Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) Read online

  THE IMDALIND SERIES

  BOOK ONE: Kiss of Fire

  BOOK TWO: Eyes of Ember

  BOOK THREE: Scorched Treachery

  BOOK FOUR: Soul of Flame

  BOOK FIVE: Dawn of Ash

  Text Copyright ©2013 by Rebecca Ethington

  The Imdalind Series, characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks and © of Rebecca Ethington.

  The Imdalind Series Publishing rights © Rebecca Ethington

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Imdalind Press

  No Part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For Information regarding permission, write to:

  Rebecca Ethington – permissions@ Rebecca Ethington.com

  Copyediting by

  Production Management by Imdalind Press

  Cover Design by Sarah Hansen @Okay Creations

  Cover Photo by Kelsey Keeton

  Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

  ISBN (print) 978-0-9914313-0-4

  ISBN (e-book) 978-0-9914313-4-2

  Printed in USA

  This Edition, February 2014

  To my Dad—

  Who use to record my stories.

  Scared they would be lost forever.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  One

  I had never kissed someone before. Yes, I had been kissed, but to make that last move—the final step before lips pressed against lips and warmth and wet blended together in an orchestra of emotions, need and magic—I had never done that before.

  I had never wanted it so much that I would fight against my own insecurities to do it.

  I had never been brave enough.

  Not until Ilyan.

  His hand was a soft pressure through the blanket on my leg, his magic a strong presence through the Štít in my chest. I felt the connection, felt the warmth as I ran my fingers over his face, tracing the canyons of his laughs and the valleys of his sorrows.

  We sat on the cold stone of the balcony outside our room as he asked me what was beyond my anger. Except all I felt was anger; all I felt was the mad desire to hunt Ryland down and make him pay for what he had done to me, for every bone he had broken. Even through my exhaustion from healing Wyn minutes before, the anger still consumed me. I didn’t want to let go of my rage. It was all I had after the hell Ilyan had saved me from, and I wasn’t quite sure what was on the other side. I wasn’t sure what would be left of me if I released it.

  That was wrong, however. I knew what was on the other side. I could feel it in the pressure of Ilyan’s hand against my leg. I could feel it in the warmth of his magic as it comforted me.

  “Ilyan.” His name flowed off my tongue, heavy and strong. It felt so right to utter his name, to hear my voice without a stutter. His eyes opened as I spoke, my fingers frozen against his lips. “You are behind my anger.”

  The lights of the fireflies that surrounded us erupted as I spoke the words, the truth of them rocking through me. I knew beyond anything that he was there, hidden behind the madness that consumed me, just as I had been for him. He was my rock, and he somehow made everything clear.

  I looked up to him, my breath catching at the look he was giving me. The tenderness in his face calmed me while the ocean of his eyes devoured the last of my nerves and insecurities. I let myself get lost in him, and for the first time in months, I felt like me.

  Just Joclyn Despain. Not the girl who had lost everything. Not the girl who had been hunted and tortured and broken. Just me.

  My nerves loosened like an iron band had been shattered, and my magic stretched away from me; the power that my anger had restrained flooded the world like a tsunami. I had never felt so much strength. The force of it scared me; the normalcy of it terrified me. I could feel everything, the strong waves of Ilyan’s emotions as well as the gentle tug of his thoughts. I could feel the nervous magic of the earth as it trembled in fear. I could feel where everyone stood within the old stone walls of the abbey that provided our security for the moment. Wyn was sleeping in her bed, Sain and Thom were tucked away with Ryland, and even though I could feel him, I no longer wanted to hurt him. Ilyan had somehow taken that away.

  If only for a moment.

  I understood everything.

  Everything that had happened, that was going to happen. It all stretched before me like a welcome mat to what could be. In the golden-flecked blue of Ilyan’s eyes, I could see every good, every bad, and in that look I knew I wanted it. Every bit of it.

  I wanted him.

  “I always will be,” he whispered, his breath tepid against my fingers, the warmth surging through me. My muscles tensed. My heart beat faster.

  He was right; he always would be. I had seen it. I just hadn’t accepted it, but now, feeling my emotions so strong and clear for the first time, I knew. My own emotions mirrored his, my heart slowed to beat in time with his, and I couldn’t help it, I kissed him.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, the skin hot and moist as we connected. I could never have prepared myself for the strength of my connection with Ilyan. My heart beat faster at the touch, my magic heating as it rushed through me, wild and uncontrollable. I would have fought for control. I would have calmed. But I couldn’t focus beyond the feel of Ilyan’s lips against mine, the way everything inside me burned. I waited for the earth-shattering explosion that had come when Ryland had kissed me, and while the flash never came, everything else around us seemed to glow.

  The earth’s magic surged as if someone had awakened it, the green glow of the fireflies twinkling around us in excitement. Tiny pops of jewel-bright color joined in, the sparks of Ilyan’s magic mixing with my own and igniting in the air like a million Christmas lights.

  Ilyan didn’t even seem to notice. He wound his arm around my waist as he pulled me off the cold stone of the balcony and onto his lap, pressing me against him. He held me there, his lips moving with mine in a fevered heat. He held me as if he were afraid I would disappear, as if this wasn’t real. In a way, it didn’t feel real, and I was thankful for the pressure, the promise that this wasn’t all a dream. The certainty that Ilyan was here and he was kissing me back.

  He pressed his lips against mine roughly, moving in perfect harmony as he deepened the kiss, as he moved into me, became part of me. The deep connection rocked through me again as his magic reacted, flaring in a white hot spark of passion.

  Passion.

  It was different, so much different than before.

  My magic pushed through me, right to the point where my hands made contact with Ilyan’s skin. It bubbled and grew in a turbulent movement that shook my nerves. It flowed through me like Ilyan was calling it home, and I realized that, in a way, he was.

  He groaned at the sensation, his fingers clawing at my shirt as I felt the conflict rise up in him, and he pulled away, his magic withdrawing from me.
Everything swirled in a dizzying heat as his magic left me, the world spinning while I fought the need to call out for him and his magic. He held me against him, his breath panting over the long strands of my black hair as he fought the same desire.

  “Stop, my love. I can’t bond myself to you, not yet,” he gasped as he pressed his cheek against mine, his winded words soft in my ear.

  Is that what was about to happen? I was certain it was. Without a doubt, I knew.

  I had felt the same wild need and desperate possessiveness when Ryland had bonded himself to me before, though nothing on this level. Before, it was something that I had thought was real. Feeling this now, however… feeling Ilyan’s magic flow through me while his arms cradled me, his lips held me, and his magic protected me—feeling his passion, his commitment, his selfless love—I knew how wrong I had been. This was home. This was love.

  This was real.

  “I want this,” I sighed into him; my voice was soft, each word formed perfectly. My fingers trailed over the small hairs on the back of his neck, causing him to tremble underneath me. I couldn’t help smiling at his reaction.

  “Joclyn,” he moaned, and I could hear his deep regret as he tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing even though his desire to lose himself in me almost won over.

  Ilyan kept his hold on me as he moved away just enough to look at me, his face so close I would only have to lean forward to connect with him again. My breath faltered at the thought, the energy of my magic picking up. Ilyan smiled, obviously sensing the activity for himself, his eyes dancing in joy.

  “I want this,” he whispered, soft and intimate. His eyes dug into mine as his hand moved away from my back to caress the side of my face. The scarred skin of his palm was strangely soft and comforting. “I want to bond myself to you and be with you for as long as we walk the earth, but this is your choice to make, and I will never take that away. I want to know you are making this choice for you. Not in fear or anger. Not when things may change and other emotions may return. I want you to make this choice in love, and I will wait for that. It is so soon after my father severed your bond with Ryland. I don’t want…”

  I jumped at the mention of his name, causing Ilyan to stop mid-sentence. Hearing his name spoken aloud brought back the horrors, and my body quaked as my vision faded, creating red walls and destroyed floors in my imagination.

  “Shh, my love,” Ilyan soothed as his thumb ran over my cheekbone, his gentle touch and the warmth of his magic spreading through me in an attempt to take away the fearful edge of the hallucinations that lacerated me.

  I tried to focus on him, but it was no use. I had heard the implication behind what he’d said, and my shoulders knit together as I tried to find the pressure that my battered subconscious craved.

  “I d-do n-not l-l-love Ryland-d,” I hissed, my voice shaking as I stuttered.

  “Jos, we cannot be sure of that…” Ilyan began, but my fear and anger overpowered him. My voice erupted in his head much louder than I intended, and he flinched.

  I do not love him, not like I once did. My face burned with painful tears, Ilyan’s warm hands against my cheeks catching them as they fell. I close my eyes and I see blood. I think his name and I feel pain. I can’t make that go away. I can’t make my fear, my need to attack him, leave. I cannot love someone, I cannot be with someone I only feel hatred for. Who I am scared of.

  “Those are not your true emotions, Joclyn. They are what my father has infected you with. They will fade with time,” Ilyan whispered, his pain at seeing me so scared, so sad, tumbling through me. I ignored it, clinging to the last bits of sanity I had left as I tried to get the words out, to help him understand.

  They are my emotions now, Ilyan. Cail made sure of that. I stared into him, my jaw clenched as I fought the tirade that bubbled to the surface. I stared at him, pleading with him to understand me while my nerves jumped. I could feel his thoughts as they swirled through him: his regret, anger, love… and finally, understanding.

  He pulled me into him, his nose rubbing against my jawbone as he moved to whisper in my ear. The soft touch sent a jolt up my spine. “I’m sorry, Joclyn. I am sorry I didn’t get there in time.” I could only nod my head in acceptance. He ran his hands over my arms as he kept me enclosed on his lap, his palms trailing over my skin. “You will become bigger than it, my love. I know you will, and then anything you desire will be yours.”

  I listened to Ilyan’s words, the truth of what he said sinking in. His choice to wait wasn’t about the relationship I had with Ryland or any feelings I may still have for him. This was about me and helping me move past what had been done to me before I made the choice to move forward. Ilyan would never take away my choice, not in the way that Ryland had. I fought the tremor as his name came to mind, my arms twitching whether or not I wanted them to.

  What if that never comes? I sent the words into Ilyan’s mind as I exhaled shakily, my fear still fighting its way past the calming current that Ilyan had wound through me.

  “It will come. It may take time, but it will come. I will be here to help you find yourself again.” He whispered the words into the crisp night air around us, the promise sounding more like a guarantee.

  I knew it was.

  “Ilyan,” I breathed out, my voice pleading as I whispered into the night. I clenched my fingers around his shirt as I pressed myself against him.

  “It is not my time, my love,” he whispered as he caught my meaning, the pain at the words that I wasn’t sure he agreed with taking his voice away.

  It is your time, Ilyan, I spoke into his mind as I pressed my lips against his neck, keeping my skin against his as his breathing caught. It always was. It always will be. I was just too dumb to see it.

  His arms tightened around me as he fought against his resolve. Our hearts beat in unison as the chilled night breeze pulled at my hair. The strong wave of his affection flowed into me so quickly that it caught me off guard and I gasped shakily as his emotion grew, triggering my own.

  “I have waited eight hundred years to hear you say such things. I thought I had understood the love I felt for you before, but until now, I didn’t fully know how amazing it was. I didn’t know how unworthy I would feel of it. I am lost to you,” Ilyan whispered, his voice breaking as tears threatened.

  My breath caught in my chest. My soul was overcome by the strength of the love that my body absorbed from him. I just wished it was enough, enough for him to bond himself to me, to know that I felt it was right. It wasn’t though; not yet.

  I wanted to tell Ilyan how being near him made me feel. I wanted him to know how clear my mind was. I just couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t form the thought to push it into his mind. My soul teetered on the edge of nothing as I waited for the words to come, as I tried to put voice to them.

  “Say something,” he pleaded, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

  I love you, Ilyan, I whispered into his mind as I leaned against him, his arms coming up to wrap around me and keep me close.

  “Say it aloud,” he whispered, his breath moving through my hair, the warmth sending a shiver down my spine.

  “I love you, Ilyan,” I said, my voice strong and steady.

  I had never felt so much certainty behind my words, so much honesty. I did more than just speak the words. I felt them.

  I felt them down to the very tips of my toes. I felt them course through me. In many ways, the truth of them scared me, yet in others, they made me comfortable because they made me aware of who I was and what I was meant to do. They made me feel normal and loved.

  They were love.

  “I have waited my entire life to hold you in my arms in this way, to feel your lips against mine.” The whisper of his voice faltered as he moved away to look into me. “And now that you are here… I will hold you every night,” he vowed as he placed his lips against my forehead, his touch soft and hesitant, “and I will protect you every day,” his mouth ran over my skin, down the bridge o
f my nose, “in hopes that the day will come that I can bond myself to you and call you mine.”

  His voice was so soft, it almost wasn’t there. I wasn’t even certain I had heard it before he kissed me again.

  Two

  “He’s fanning out.”

  “At least the north side is still clear. We could make it to this cave in only hours if we went that way.”

  The voices were loud in my ears as they pulled me out of the deep sleep I had been in seconds before. Anxiety tensed my shoulders together as I listened to the voices that were so close, alerting me to the danger I was in. My mind begged me to run from them, sure I was back in Cail’s tortured nightmares. But I lay still, trying to make sense of the voices enough to understand why they were here.

  My hands wound around the soft warmth of the blankets that lay against my skin, the fabric pulling my mind away from the horrors. I had never had blankets in the Tȍuha that Cail had trapped me in. If only for that reason, I knew I was safe inside my own reality. I begged myself to believe it. Even with that knowledge, however, I couldn’t stop the panic from continuing to seep through me, rocking through my muscles until I shook.

  I hated the way the terrors ran through me, the way they controlled me, became bigger than me. They hadn’t been this big last night when Ilyan had kissed me. They hadn’t ruled over me then. When I had kissed him.

  I worked to regulate my breathing and brought the vivid memories of last night to mind, letting them swirl and flow through me as I fought against the agitation in order to become bigger than the fear Cail had instilled in me. I focused on the memories of Ilyan’s hands against my arms, the heat of his breath against my skin. The residual fears rippled through my muscles as the pleasant imagery chased them away, the sensation comfortable in my heavy, over-tired body.

  I couldn’t have been asleep that long. My mind was still fuzzy; my lips still tinged with the sweet taste of Ilyan’s kiss. I could still feel the warmth of the bed where Ilyan had lain behind me, the heat fading from the fabric of the sheets as it evaporated into the cool, fall air.