Forgotten Sea

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You’re doing great. Is there a sign for this?” he asked.

“Like there was for water?”

She stared at him, considering. “Wel . . . Heth means

‘wal .’ ” She thought. “Or ‘fence.’ A spel of binding and containment.”

“So al we need is a door,” he joked.

A way in. A crack. An opening.

She felt a glimmer of hope. It was worth a shot.

“You’l have to hold on to me,” she said. “I need both hands for this.”

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She took another deep breath that did nothing to settle her stomach and grabbed the heth again, trying to remember the ancient symbols.

What can be . . .

Daleth, door. He, window. She pictured the runes in her mind, scratching them into the surface of the glass, probing it for weakness.

Iestyn, free.

Daleth, door, he, window, over and over again like a madwoman scribbling on the wal s of her cel . A great surge of power pushed from her heart and her stomach, from Iestyn’s arms around her waist, ripples of power F o r g o t t e n s e a 247

flowing through her veins, racing along her nerves, shooting into the heth.

What must be.

Free.

And power exploded under her hand, red hot, white hot, scalding, boiling out of control.

Glass cracked.

Sharp pain cut across her palm. Blood dripped between her fingers. The room stank.

Lara shuddered. She uncurled her bleeding hand, and the shards of the heth fel dul y to the bathroom floor. She touched her other hand lightly to Iestyn’s hair, wil ing him to look up and reassure her.

“Wel , we did it,” she said shakily.

“Oh yes.” He raised his head and smiled a terrible smile, and his eyes were not Iestyn’s eyes, and his voice was not Iestyn’s voice. “We certainly did.”

19

H e wa s l o s i n g h i s m i n d .

Losing control. Of his voice, his arms, his . . . self.

Christ. The word lashed like a bright crack of lightning along his abused nerves.

Iestyn sat trapped on the toilet seat, trapped in his unresponsive body, fat, fiery ripples of power coursing through his veins and along his bones, coiling in his heart and bowels, as the demon burrowed and twined deeper, farther, into its host.

“Iestyn?” Shock in Lara’s voice.

Horror in her eyes.

Freed from hiding, the demon who had been held captive by the heth’s power tightened his borrowed arms around Lara’s hips, enjoying her panicked struggle to be free—

free, free, after days of concealment, of confine-ment—

savoring the soft, yielding flesh of her bel y against his stubbled jaw. His cock swel ed. Twitched. He wanted to F o r g o t t e n s e a 249

turn his face and bite her, fuck her, eat her, have her, while she jerked and bled and moaned.

No.

No.

Iestyn loosed his arms.

Lara stumbled back a step, reaching behind her for the support of the tiled wal . “Iestyn, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Silly bitch. He could smel her fear. She knew. She had to know.

Iestyn exerted control, fighting for his voice. “Get away from me.” A guttural growl.

“What is it?” Shaking, Lara stood her ground. “Let me help.

Let me help you.”

“Can’t.” The word burst from Iestyn’s throat. “Go. Now.”

“What happened to you?”