Page 152 of Dark Lover

Tabby was on her feet, holding something in her hands. “Eternal evil, come to me. Eternal evil, seek this peace. Eternal evil, find this place. Eternal evil, occupy this space.”

Ian realized she was holding a small glass jar and lid. His eyes widened as the black power swarmed into the jar. Tabby snapped the lid on and screwed it tight, murmuring, “Evil contained in this one place, evil in chains, in this one place.”

Clutching the jar, Tabby turned in alarm. “Sam?”

Then he realized Aidan was tending Sam. He turned and dropped to his knees.

Absolute horror began. “No!”

“She’s gone,” Aidan gasped, meeting his gaze starkly.

It was impossible. Ian pulled her into his arms in shock and disbelief. Aidan clasped his shoulder. Enraged, he flung him off. “She’s not dead!”

Suddenly so much light was pouring into the library, brilliant and unnatural, that he glanced up. In the shining light he saw shapes and forms, human in outline, but he knew they were the immortals. He couldn’t breathe. The old gods filled the room, clad in robes and long gowns, both men and women. One god, taller than the others, approached.

Ian was furious—he hated them all! They’d taken Sam from him and forsaken him to evil! But as the great god approached, he was bathed in his magnificence and splendor. The fury and hatred vanished. He could make out the god’s features now and he somehow knew they were related. Then he turned, because the god’s light was bathing Sam. As he looked down, her eyelashes fluttered.

“She’s alive,” he breathed. Nothing had ever meant more to him.

But Aidan was already healing her. Ian thought he heard a man say, “’Tis her time to live, not die.”

He glanced back at the god, who hovered over Sam now, a paternal smile on his face. Their eyes met. His mouth never moved, but Ian heard him as clear as day.

We never meant to hurt you, Ian. And we did not forsake you…

The god started to fade before his very eyes, as did the brilliant light in the room. “Wait!” Ian cried.

‘Tis your turn now.

But the light had returned to normal and the apparitions were gone. Ian knelt beside Sam. It was his turn now. And he didn’t need the god to say more. He knew what he meant. It was his turn to live.

His heart swelled. It was unfamiliar, a mingling of anticipation, excitement. Suddenly the past felt distant—where it belonged.

Sam opened her eyes. He looked at her and his heart began a new, different beat. She said, “Moray?”

He slowly smiled. “He’s gone…I think.”

Her gaze was serious and searching. She touched his face. “I heard you,” she said.

IAN CROSSED HIS BEDROOM, clad only in jeans, having just come out of a shower. He froze. His father stood on the bedroom’s threshold.

There was so much he had to say and he didn’t know if he could do it.

“We’re about to leave,” Aidan said. “May I come in?”

Ian tensed, nodding. “Ye saved Sam. I owe ye now.”

“Ye owe me nothing,” Aidan said, pausing by a handsome carved bureau.

Ian didn’t know what to say. His father had come forward to rescue him and now he knew that Aidan would have rescued him if he’d realized he was alive, all those years ago. And suddenly he had a flashback.

The little boy ran shouting with delight across the great room. The wolfhound pup ran with him, barking in excitement. His father had returned from battle, victorious! And Aidan entered with his men, his plaid wet, his boots muddy. He ignored the maids who waited to take the brat and give him wine. “Come here, my boy!” he cried, smiling. And Ian barreled into him, only to be swung high in his arms, laughing. And he was so happy…

Tears formed in his eyes as he stared at his father. “Ye truly believed I was dead. I know that now.”

“I saw him kill ye,” Aidan said harshly. “I leapt time over an’ over, trying to prevent yer murder. I spent sixty-six years hunting Moray, years I could have spent looking fer ye. I will die with my regrets.”

“No,” Ian choked. “No one should live with guilt and regret.”