by Elise Faber
“I don’t believe it,” she grumbled. “You have plenty to say to me.”
“That’s true.” He cocked his head. “But at least you’re smiling now.”
So she was.
“Ugh. Don’t be charming,” she muttered, stepping forward until she was equal with him. Her fingers found his jaw and traced across the bristly expanse, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Were you thinking about your mother?”
Her eyes flew up to meet his. “How?” She shook her head. She was an idiot. Their connection was stronger and— “You could hear my thoughts.”
He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her forward. “Not exactly. It’s more like the tenor of your thoughts change. Normally you’re mind feels like sunshine”—he flashed her one of those heart-stopping grins—“all warm rays and heat. But when you think about your past . . . well, your mind gets kind of icy. Cold.”
She smiled weakly. “Yikes.”
“It’s you,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
A nod and then he squeezed her fingers. They walked hand in hand for a few minutes before she said, “Your mind changes too.”
“I figured,” he said, nonchalant . . . or fake nonchalant, anyway.
“That’s how I knew,” she said. “I felt it last night. It was like our connection had been frozen in ice.” Fragile, the ties between them had seemed as though they would shatter with the slightest touch.
Frustration filled him.
It was in the stiffness of his shoulders, the slight flexing of his fingers against hers, and across the link between their minds—the emotion was hot, almost scalding, and still so much better than the frigid coldness from the night before.
“I’m—”
“If you’re going to apologize,” she said. “Please don’t. We both have things from our past that threaten to suck us under. I don’t want you to feel bad just because you have a hard time forgetting those memories.”
She stopped him with a tug on his hand. “If we keep moving in this direction, keep moving toward mixing our magic and invoking the bond, I don’t want you to forget.” Her fingers cupped his cheek. “I don’t want you to forget Victoria and Jacob. They’re a part of you and I’d never expect—”
“I like you,” Mason interrupted. His voice was almost a growl, husky, and it rolled over her skin with a pleasant roughness.
He tugged her fingers off his face and pulled her close.
Irritation coursed through her.
Not because she was mad at him, but because when he held her against his chest, she couldn’t reach his mouth to kiss him. And she wanted to kiss this man, this sweet, funny man whose hazel eyes were shrouded in darkness. This man who appeared to care more about her past hurts than his own.
She wanted—
He solved the problem for her.
Reaching down, he cupped both of his hands beneath her butt and hauled her up. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and straddled his hips, felt the hard length of him between her thighs. Perfect. Fuck, that was perfect.
She threw her arms around his neck and slammed her mouth down onto his.
Heat. So much heat.
It pounded into her, little bullets of desire that penetrated the last of her fear and the tattered remains of the armor that surrounded her heart, and though she might have initiated the kiss, been the one to actually connect their mouths, but Mason was the one who jumped into the driver’s seat. His tongue stroked across her lips, demanding entrance, and pushing inside to stroke against hers, nipped at her mouth, held her fiercely as he kissed and kissed and kissed her.
She didn’t have to think, to worry she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Nothing mattered. Nothing except that it felt good to be in his arms, that she felt cherished, cared for, and so freaking turned on she wanted to—
He slowed the kiss.
Turned the deep penetrations of his tongue into smaller sips of his lips against hers, and as he pulled away from her, leaving her gasping for air, he pressed a row of kisses along her jaw and over to her ear.
“Want to see the waterfalls with me again?” he whispered.
A shocked laugh burst free, and she leaned back to see him smiling at her. His lips were slightly reddened, his breaths not completely steady either. She started to respond but he sealed his mouth to hers for a brief heat-inducing press.
“I know,” he said, when he broke away and rested his forehead to hers, his spicy breath teasing her nose. “I’m a pain in the ass.”
She giggled. “No pain in the ass can kiss like that.”
A moment passed. She waited for Mason to release her, for them to continue walking.
He didn’t.
Tilting her head back again, she glanced up into his eyes
A self-deprecating sigh escaped him. “I’m having a hard time convincing my hands to let you go.”
“A hard time?”
They broke into peals of laughter, their breaths mingling, the happiness radiating through their mental connection buoying them both.
Eventually, he persuaded his fingers to cooperate and release her. They walked side by side down the quiet forest trail, and she couldn’t help but feel hope for the first time in her life. She’d loved her father, had even loved the pieces of her mother that hadn’t been tainted by the dark magic.
But she’d never expected to love a man. Wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to expose herself so readily.
The vulnerability, the risk—
No.
She hadn’t ever thought she would able to do that.
Mason made her think she could.
“What does a LexTal do anyway?” she asked a little while later. She could hear the waterfalls ahead, the slapping sound of water against rocks, the faint roar of the downward rushing liquid.
He turned to face her. “You already know what we do.”
She huffed out a sigh. “No, what I know is that Morgan”—his brother—“says your job is to stop people from being stupid.” Mason snorted and she continued, “I know you fight for us. But what does that mean on a day to day basis?”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. It was a few minutes before he replied but she didn’t push, since she could actually feel his mind considering her question and formulating the answer.
Perhaps bonding had been biology’s way of teaching women patience.
Her lips twitched and Mason chuckled.
“Probably not,” he said, shrugging when she glanced at him in surprise. “Got that thought loud and clear.”
She was starting to understand what Dee had meant about the bond having its own set of drawbacks—the potential for embarrassing or uncomfortable things to be overheard was a big one. This time it wasn’t bad. But what about those inner, unkind thoughts people had about one another? The mean little quips that most would never, ever say aloud?
If they did this bonding thing, she would need to talk to Daughtry about finding a way to ensure some privacy for both her and Mason.
“Not touching that comment on woman,” he said, lightly. “The LexTals help with patrols and go on missions to find, well . . . you know what John does.”
She nodded. John was really good at finding those who’d slipped through the cracks. Like her.
“The rest of us train the lower ranks of soldiers, teach classes for the civilians—Suz has convinced Monroe to start giving a self-defense class for the females of the Colony.”
Her lips twitched at the thought of Mason’s stoic brother teaching a class full of women. “And what do you do?”
“Mostly monitoring,” he answered. “I run all of the surveillance and security. I schedule shifts for patrols, make sure all the defenses are functioning.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly computer work.”
“Sounds important.”
He pushed a branch out of the way, and she ducked underneath it. After he’d come through, he crouched slightly and met her eyes. “Everyone’s jo
b at the Colony is.”
Her heart squeezed hard.
She wouldn’t say it out loud—and would attempt to keep the thought in her own mind—but the man was beyond sweet.
As they walked on, the sound of the waterfalls increased, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “You spend a lot of time on the computer?”
He nodded. “Lots of cameras to monitor.”
Mischievousness chased the warm bubbly feeling within her. “That must be why you’re so out of shape.”
That dumbfounded him. She could feel it, witnessed it in the slackening of his jaw and the furrowing of his brow. He glanced down at the six feet plus of hardened muscles, of narrow hips and flat abs, then looked back up at her.
“Out of shape?” he asked.
She giggled, couldn’t stop it.
An almost predatory look came into his eyes at the sound. It raised goosebumps on her nape, her arms.
Affecting a sad, false pout, she walked toward him. “Poor man, doesn’t get out much. Doesn’t get to exercise his LexTal skills.” She wasn’t entirely sure what had made her feel so playful. Maybe it was the earlier hope. Or perhaps, it was just being with him, having him tease her. Either way, she didn’t care.
For the first time in ages, she felt right. Like she was a twenty-something woman who could play and have fun, not an ancient old crone who couldn’t risk opening her heart even one millimeter.
“My LexTal skills?” he asked, his tone taking on a warning edge that made her grin.
“Yup. They’re sorely lacking. In fact, I bet I can beat you to the waterfalls.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “Unless you’re too scared?”
He raised a brow. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a schoolyard challenge?”
She didn’t let the fact that she’d never set foot on a schoolyard dampen her spirits. “I believe I did.”
Amusement crept into hazel eyes. “All right then. I see I have something to prove. What are your terms, Sunshine?”
She considered that for a moment, not having thought that far ahead in her silliness. “I win and you have to bring me coffee first thing in the morning every day for a week.”
The predatory gleam was back. “Is that supposed to be a punishment? Having to see you every day?” His teeth flashed when she sputtered. “And what do I get when I beat you?”
“Don’t you mean if?” she retorted.
“No.” He stepped very close, not quite touching, but near enough that she could feel the heat of him even through their layers of clothes. “I mean when.”
She didn’t stop to wonder why that sexy rasp and towering stance was sexy on Mason when it had been disturbing on her mother’s men. All she knew was that he didn’t make her feel threatened. That if she asked him to back off, to give her space, he would do it without a moment’s hesitation or a single protest.
“Well, I guess if you win,” she murmured. “Then I’ll show you my waterfalls.”
“What exactly”—his gaze flicked down and back up—“are your waterfalls?”
She froze, wondering at that too. Then lifted her chin and smiled at him. “I’ll just call it . . . dealer’s choice.”
Molten heat darkened the brown threads in his hazel eyes, making them almost black with desire. “Then I guess I’d better win.”
Her body agreed wholeheartedly with that statement.
“Okay,” she said, sucking in a breath, readying herself. Trying damned hard to focus on the challenge. It had been her idea, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave Mason at all. In fact, she was positive that she wanted to stay here and—
The swat on her but made her squawk.
“Go on then,” he said. “I’ll give you a five-minute head start.” His eyes smoldered down at her. “After which you can show me those waterfalls.”
She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, against the intense need to claim this funny, sweet, teasing man. That urge to bond, to forget the challenge, to just get naked and launch herself at him was nearly overwhelming.
But she’d found her spine, and she was keeping it.
“You can’t use your sneaky bond skills. Or teleport to the falls.”
“I won’t cheat,” he murmured. “Eyes and ears and nose only. No magic.”
A brusque nod. “Good.”
“Good.” He smiled and it held a wicked gleam. “Go on then. Oh, Sunshine?” He called just as she’d stepped through the tree line, his voice serious rather than laughing. ”Make sure you take the right fork at the path just ahead. That’s the one that leads to the falls.”
She nodded her assurance then continued forward, and the moment she was around the corner, she started sprinting.
Her heart pounded and her palms were sweaty. But not in fear.
In excitement. In anticipation.
When she reached the fork, she took the right path as Mason had instructed.
The trees swallowed her whole and the sound of the falls pounding against the rocks below made her ears ring.
Twenty-Two
Mason
Precisely five minutes later, he headed down the trail. Gabby’s path was ridiculously easy to track, everything from her obvious footprints in the moist dirt, to the disturbed leaves and bushes, the broken branches.
She may as well have been a herd of elephants, her route was so clear.
At the fork, he breathed out a small sigh of relief in seeing that she had taken the correct turn off. Then he closed his mind and opened his eyes and ears and nose to the space around him.
If he concentrated, he could still smell her in the air—the slight tang of citrus, the soft floral note of lavender.
The waterfall was loud, a roaring, crashing noise that dampened his well-trained hearing, forced him to rely on his eyes.
She had slowed midway along the trail. As he followed, closing the distance between them easily, he decided that he needed to ask her if she’d slowed because she’d gotten tired or if she’d just wanted him to catch her.
If she’d been anxious to show him her waterfall.
Grinning and picking up his pace, he flowed through the woods, not even realizing that he’d activated his magic until a glimmer of sunlight reflected off the threads of power surrounding him and blinded him.
Taking a breath, he cut off the flow, tucked his magic back into the space in his mind. Since his specialty was teleportation, he possessed the ability to bend air to his will. He could use that to move across distances faster than the eye could see. In fact, he had the feeling that if they were fully bonded, and he called upon his capacity to teleport, he could be in front of her in the space of a few moments.
But he’d promised not to cheat, so he held back the urge and tracked her the old-fashioned way.
Which was probably the only reason he spotted the anomaly in the first place.
It began as only a peculiar sense in the back of his mind. Then continued as he saw a few broken branches that weren’t consistent with her path. Never one to ignore his instincts, her picked up the pace.
The next thing he noticed was the shortening of the distance between Gabby’s footprints—an indication she’d begun moving faster.
Breaking his promise to her was easy at that point, because if she’d suddenly walked quicker, if she’d run from something that wasn’t him . . . his promise meant nothing when compared to her safety.
Adrenaline pumped through his body.
It fueled his magic, helped him go faster, to process the sensory input more quickly. The threads of power wrapping around him were crisp and competent as they lifted him slightly—thus reducing his friction, allowing him to run faster—and propelled him through the forest.
She was close, he could feel her presence growing larger in his consciousness, but she wasn’t close enough to discern her exact location. Not without them being bonded.
In fact, he was concentrating so hard on the feel of her, on the feel of her fear in his mind, that he almost missed it.
Wrenching off his magic, he skidded to a stop.
There were drag marks that led to the right, into the thick vegetation just off the trail. Someone had attempted to cover them hastily with a pile of sticks and leaves.
He bent, saw that the forced path continued into the underbrush.
Ahead a single pair of footprints continued on—wider, longer than those that had belonged to Gabby.
A pathetic effort at disguise. A method that surely anyone would see through.
But what did it mean?
She wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to win. For one, she didn’t have the skill. For another, she wouldn’t have made him think that she was in danger.
That was when he heard it.
The scuff of a sneaker against stone. The softest whimper, muffled, barely audible. Without thinking, he shot down the path, faster than most people’s eyes would have been able to process.
He reached the falls seconds later.
And was utterly horrified at the sight in front of him.
Four Dalshie were gathered around Gabby, who was on her side, her knees curled to her chest, her arms covering her head. They stood on the narrow outcropping, a flat expanse of granite where lovebirds usually brought their blankets and picnicked before the falls. The Dalshie crowded close, an occasional black strand of magic snapping from their palms and flicking in her direction. He could hear their laughter when she screamed and squirmed away from the cutting, dark power.
He didn’t think.
Just moved—crouching to yank his knife from the holster on his ankle and dropping the pack from his back in one smooth movement.
It hit the ground with a soft thunk.
One of the Dalshie drew back and kicked Gabby hard.
She cried out—a jarring, brutal sound that at once eviscerated him and filled him with such rage that he had closed the distance between himself and the group before his next heartbeat. His knife’s blade met the flesh of the nearest Dalshie, penetrated its heart with a long, sure stroke.
Ash filled the air.
He ignored the distraction and turned to face the remaining Dalshie.
They attacked him at once. He managed to block one, to wound another, but the strike from behind took him by surprise—a strand of black magic wrapped around one thigh, knocking him to his knees, cutting through his jeans and sending warm blood freely flowing down his leg.
