Page 60 of Dark Rival

When he’d found her, she’d been battered and bruised, her face swollen and ugly, her lips split. There’d been lash marks on her back. Demonic seed had been all over the room.

She learned later that she carried Kael’s seed—and she had almost died getting rid of the demon spawn.

Royce laid his head on the table and let the torment wash over him.

THE WAVE OF ANGUISH was so huge it knocked Allie back against the wall where she sat. Instantly she righted herself, eyes wide, shocked.

Royce.

In disbelief, she felt the waves coming, hard and fast, cresting. With the sorrow she felt regret, but mostly a crushing guilt.

Allie stumbled to her feet, her heart racing. What was happening?

She shouldn’t care; she was helpless not to. It was in her genes to heal those who were suffering. And Royce, whom she loved even if he was a ruthless bastard, was in the throes of torment now.

She staggered into the hall, fighting her way through the waves of his pain. She stopped abruptly, for he sat hunched over the table, his head on his arms, his big body shaking, as if he was weeping. But he wasn’t weeping, not with tears.

His aura was split in two.

It was mostly blue, but pure black divided it in a jagged line.

Allie cried out, shaken to the core. All self-control and self-mastery were gone. She wasn’t looking at a warrior or a Master; she was looking at a broken man.

His soul bled.

Allie couldn’t help herself. She raised her hands and threw a wave of white healing light at him. She had never healed a man’s heart or soul before, but she had to try.

He was so parched, it was like watching a dry sponge in the desert on a midsummer day; his body sucked up the white light instantaneously.

He leapt to his feet. “What do ye do?” He roared, furious and incredulous at once.

Allie sent more white rain showering down upon him.

He lifted up his forearm and blasted his energy, sending the white rain spiraling back toward her, and it fell uselessly to the floor, vanishing. “Ye think to heal me?” he cried. But now his aura had repaired itself and it blazed mostly red, orange and gold. No jagged black chasm divided it.

Her mind raced. Royce was suffering and he had been suffering for centuries. This wasn’t about her. The guilt she’d just witnessed was so vast, it had to be the product of something unspeakable.

Somehow she knew it was a woman. And that meant it was his wife. The idea hurt her impossibly—but she ignored it. Royce needed her—desperately.

He drew himself straight. His blazing gaze held hers. “Save yer healing power for those that need it.”

“You need it.”

His smile formed, cold and twisted. “I need no white light. Besides, ye hate me now.”

She hugged herself. “I don’t hate anyone, and I don’t hate you.” How dense could he be? She had given him her heart. No matter what he did, no matter how awful he behaved, she’d never be able to take it back, because she knew the man he’d become one day.

His gaze flickered.

“You are in pain. I can help. Why won’t you let me?”

He stiffened. His smile was forced. “I’m nay in pain. Ye imagined it.”

“Let me help,” she begged, and she went to him and tried to take his large hands in her smaller ones.

As if burned, he drew away. She’d sent a rush of white light into him before he could suspect what she meant to do. “Cease,” he shouted at her. He paced away.

He blamed himself for whatever had happened. She stared up at him. She had to know. She could help.