Page 145 of Dark Lover

It was enough to make her stomach churn with fear.

Sam took a breath, shoving that brief and unfamiliar feeling away. The house was so silent that she could hear her own breathing and that of her sister and Macleod. It was unnatural.

She reached out abruptly and turned off the chandelier’s lights. Tabby thought she had a spell which would trap Moray’s soul in Hemmer’s body. Last time, according to her sister, her spell had made it impossible for his soul to find a physical haven, so it had scattered into the atmosphere—or so they’d thought. Now they had a new plan: use the spell, trap his soul, and dispatch Hemmer. But Tabby did not have a spell to thwart the power of virtual control.

The skin on her nape crawled.

“Moray, show yerself,” Macleod called softly.

The pressure in the house increased. The atmosphere began to hurt her skin. Moray did not appear.

“I have to find Ian,” Sam said. She knew he was being tortured. She felt it in the churning of her gut, in every fiber of her being. She’d been sure she’d find him at his Loch Awe home. Now, she was dismayed, because she did not feel him.

“We find Moray, we find Ian,” Macleod said flatly.

“He’s right,” Tabby said, speaking in a whisper.

The pressure bearing down on them intensified. Sam heard soft laughter, like a distant echo. So did her sister and brother-in-law.

“Fuck the bastard,” Sam hissed. She’d do a room-to-room. She’d been so certain Ian was at Loch Awe.

As she started past the salon, she saw him, lying prone on the floor.

He was as still as a corpse.

Sam cried out, rushing to him, terrified that he was dead. She knelt. The moment she saw his lashes flutter, she also felt the faintest sensation of his power. Relief flooded her. “He’s unconscious,” she said tersely, as Tabby knelt beside her. “Ian.” She stroked his brow, shaking, afraid of what had been done to him.

“I don’t think he’s unconscious,” Tabby said, her tone grim.

Sam looked warily at her. “He’s passed out cold, Tabby. If he’s hurt, it’s internal, because he’s not bleeding.” She’d made an instant inventory.

“He’s under Moray’s power,” Tabby said. “I can feel the power of the page, Sam. I can feel its magic, and I can feel his evil perverting it, using it. Ian is in another world.”

Sam’s tension became unbearable. “Ian, wake up,” she said, taking his hands in hers.

His lashes fluttered, but otherwise, he was unmoving, as if paralyzed.

“I wonder if he can hear you. Guy, can you read his mind?” Tabby asked.

When he didn’t answer immediately, Sam looked up. Macleod was grim. “He’s a boy. Ye dinna need to know what they’re doing to him.”

Sam choked. She lifted his head onto her lap and bent over him, tears falling. “Come back to me, Ian, please. Get out of that world! It’s not real. This is real—I’m real!”

His lashes kept moving but his body remained still.

Macleod squatted behind Tabby. “Can ye release him from the spell, Tabitha?”

“I’ll try.” Tabby chanted softly. “Cloak of control, rip asunder. A different reality, cease! Cloak of control, tear apart. Ian Maclean, return to reality.”

Sam pressed her cheek to his, wishing he’d wake up. “Come back now, Ian. Can you hear me? Come back!”

His lashes fluttered, but more slowly. Then his lids slowly lifted. He looked up at her. His gaze was unfocused and glazed with pain.

“Ian?” Her heart broke.

The light there changed. Their eyes met and held. “Ye still have my back?” He almost sounded incredulous.

Sam inhaled and she hugged him, hard. “Always means always, Maclean.”