Fallen by Christina Skye Page A

least.”

No alarms challenged them on their passage to the weathered gatehouse. The abbey’s beautiful halls lay silent, dappled by moonlight.
    The night seemed to muffle Lyon’s footsteps as he carried Maddie up the curved staircase to a bedroom that overlooked the moat. The glowing silk chairs and polished wood seemed to hold a welcome, the air perfumed by roses scattered in vases around the quiet room.
    After Adrian left, Lyon smoothed a white coverlet over Maddie and sat down on a nearby chair. He had not set foot within the abbey’s walls for too many years to count. The rooms were strange and the furnishings new to his eyes, yet the shadows still held the warmth of old memories.
    Lyon felt the age and weight of the house’s past seep into his spirit as he watched Maddie sleep. She had much to learn and little time to do it. He must carry the weight of most of that training. As if aware of his thoughts, the marks on her palm stirred, growing brighter. Lyon reached out, watching the restless silver lines move—and drift toward his hand.
    They slid across his fingers, faint and glowing as they searched.
    Wherever they touched him, his skin burned with their restless fires. His jaw locked with the wrenching pain. There could be only one peace, in an act of irrevocable passion that Lyon would not permit. She had been hurt and betrayed. He would not do the same.
    He closed his eyes against the searing pain as her rosemarks cut deep into his skin, calling for union. Demanding a hot, breathless release. He could take her there as she slept, sealing their bodies by the fire of his terrible need, claiming her in form, spirit and soul for all time. He could refuse her the choice and spare them both this agony of separation. He watched her sleep and his blood stirred, hot with the awareness of her slim, exquisite body outlined in the moonlight.
    He wanted her. His spirit called to hers.
    He could bring her pleasures she could not imagine. The fire that seared him would also heal the old scars of their past. It would be so easy.
    But to take her here and now would deny her what she valued most—her freedom.
    Hard choices mocked Lyon. But hard choices were what the Crusader did best. So he looked away, and ignored his pain. He did not slip into the soft bed and stir her warm skin awake beneath him. He let her sleep, quiet and untouched. He guarded her restless dreams—even from himself. His hands glowed as her marks wrapped around him, searching.
    Burning.
    But he would keep her safe—no matter what it cost him to do that.
    Lyon’s jaw locked against a fresh wave of pain as he stood slowly. Outside the French doors moonlight shimmered over the moat and a winged shape cut through the darkness.
    “Guard her, Aeryx,” Lyon said hoarsely. At his words, the powerful form sank down on the stone railing above a bank of scented roses. The great wings closed, and Aeryx nodded gravely at Lyon, studying the silver marks that had followed the Crusader across the room, restless in their need.
    “It is too soon,” the deep voice rumbled. “Take care, Crusader. Time is not as it should be. I feel the laws begin to shift again.”
    It was nothing less than what Lyon had felt himself. But he valued the warning from a creature of Aeryx’s age and power. “I shall take care, old friend. For myself. And for the one who sleeps inside.”
    A new wave of pain lashed Lyon as Maddie’s marks traced his neck and forehead. “I must go. She strains my control. We both need more time.”
    “I will stay. None shall pass me.” The great body stilled, sinking to rest in the shadows. Now he was simply one more sculpture among so many that marked the abbey’s beautiful, weathered walls.
    But the amber eyes gleamed, alive and brooding in the darkness.

Maddie came awake slowly, groggy and confused by a rich smell around her. Roses ?
    Blinking, she pushed to one elbow and glanced around her. Damask wing chairs flanked a mahogany chest. Roses of a