Mud shifts and slides in long wet tendrils down from my hair, under my shirt, and along my spine. Helping me focus through the fading black in his eyes as nothing but emerald green meets my gaze.
I might be about to say something. I have no idea what, but I don’t get the chance before he growls, “You’re shaking. Get inside.”
By the time she’s dragged herself into the bedroom she’s shaking.
“Shock.”
An ominous sign – her system is already struggling, and we’re going to try to push more magic through it.
“Shower,” I suggest. Then clean clothes.
Killian grabs a towel and tosses it at her – which she fails to catch and stands for a long second with the thing draped over her head.
“Rub down,” the man grunts.
With the towel around her, she looks almost incapable of… anything. I’m hardly in any position to help her shower; damned sure not going there.
Options. Killian helps her shower – clearly not happening. Get Seth in here, and in the meantime her system keeps shutting down, trying to deal with the damage to her arm. Or we just get on with the healing.
I scoop her up. No argument. No resistance. It’s helped immensely by my tendril of desire that she latches on to. It’s so quick, so instinctive, that if I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t pick up on it.
Calm and fine, my power says.
Everything is okay, she echoes.
She wraps her good arm around my neck and draws in a long, pain-free breath.
I settle her onto the couch, the really big towel cocooning her, while Killian moves to hover beside the door. He stares out at the fire, Pax, and Seth.
“What do I do?” Kitten asks, a giddy excitement in her voice – now that the pain isn’t in control.
“When Sabers get help from a HealingSeed, the healer extends their energy, and our bodies latch on to it, direct it, tell it what to do. I don’t specifically have healing power, so I’m pretty sure this won’t work. The only way I think this may be possible is if you consciously focus on your arm and your body’s natural, if slow, healing ability. You need to Allure your body into healing. Allure it into thinking that my power is its own and use it accordingly.”
“And Killian’s going to stop me from hurting myself?”
Killian chuffs. The guy wants to get out of here more than help. He doesn’t want to fix the extra damage he’s done.
“That’s the idea,” I say, looking at Killian with a sincere promise that if this goes wrong because he lets it go wrong, there will be ongoing problems between us.
“I’ll stop you from killing yourself,” he says. “I promise.”
Words which are underlined by a pure desire that slips so quickly back into his Darkness I’m almost not even sure they were there.
Kitten smiles. “Okay, I’m in, you’re in, he’s in.”
“Describe what you were doing when you confronted that mortal mage?”
“I just got mad.”
I shake my head. “You can’t do that. Allure is like softly strumming a harp into a tune, not pounding a veil-drum.”
She frowns at me. Right – mortals wouldn’t know what a veil-drum is.
I grip her good arm, pulling it free from the towel and pushing her sleeve back. My fingers rest at the crook of her elbow, and heat from my power begins to slip into her skin. It instantly looks to draw back from her.
I push at its edges, forcing it into some kind of control, then slowly draw my fingers along her skin. I unavoidably enjoy the gasp of excitement that escapes her lips. I could take her pain all day and not hurt her soul. She could probably steal a little Allure from me all day and not feel it – if she used it properly. But what we’re about to do involves more than a little Allure.
I tease my finger along her arm, drawing pleasure into every second of the touch.
“Allure is like this,” I whisper.
Her eyelids fall as my fingers edge closer to her wrist.
“Understand?” I ask.
She mumbles, “Mm.”
“Kitten?”
“Mmmmmm.”
“We can’t do this if you fall asleep.”
“Oh,” she says, opening her eyes and sitting up straighter. “Okay. Soft – gentle, got it.”
The smile on my face can’t be helped. I never thought I would be instructing someone in Allure. While I was sure that one day I would have children, my Seed doesn’t require a perfect match to sire offspring – but it does require a perfect match to have anything other than Seedless offspring. Silvari – yes. A Saber – no. And nowhere near strong enough to be immune to me. I would outlive them. With a high chance that too much exposure to my magic would be harmful, even deadly, my outliving would be from a distance.
I want to be a father. I always have. It’s an annoying little early thought that has crossed the non-Allure part of my brain at the beginning of every serious relationship. How would we make that work? What would I sacrifice?
My heart aches as I remind it that Kitten isn’t absorbing my power. Somehow, she’s using it, but it is still tapping at her energy, drip by drip, and each of us only has so much to spare at any one time. Mortals begin with much less than a Saber.
I can’t let myself go down the relationship planning path with her. She’s not mine, for one thing. I’m never going to be inside of her, for another.
And it would kill me to have to put distance between us, between me and my child – so much so that the pain niggles at me even now. And now has nothing to do with us and everything to do with her arm, her survival.
I draw the heat back in, and the swirls of desire that have stirred inside me stab like daggers through my chest. I barely manage to keep from grunting. Pax was right. It’s been too long since I’ve had someone between the sheets. Desire doesn’t just dissolve…
But I don’t want to have anyone else.
I want Kitten, or nothing.
She screws up her nose. “Why can I smell jasmine and roses? I’ve looked, and there is no jasmine around here – but bralls, I keep smelling it, and I swear I’m going to cut those roses up.”
Killian stabs a finger towards me. “It’s Allure, and –” he says, then seems to realize what he’s saying, cuts himself off, and moves closer instead. He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating, then opens them and asks, “What do you smell now?”
She sniffs, then glances towards the kitchen. “Cinnamon.”
Killian huffs.
“She’s using you too?” I ask.
Cinnamon is the scent of regret – I’ve lived with the guy long enough to pick up a small catalogue of his power. I’m pretty sure he can draw and manipulate threads enough to spike certain scents. Aeons, it could be my regret that he’s teased to the surface for his little experiment.
He gives me a sharp nod.
“What do you mean, I’m using you?” Kitten demands.
“If you feel it, he knows it. In this case, smells it. And you’re smelling it too. Smelling something is the same with or without power.” I stop myself there, about to tell her that feeling love is not something everyone can naturally do.
This small creature has spent more time in the darkness than I want to explore; she steps so easily into Killian’s shadow. It’s something she’s not afraid of. But desires, wants, love… those concepts she grips at with the barest tips of her fingers and tries to force into place. Being Allured is easy, but Alluring is hard – like learning to sing softly when all she’s heard in her life is shouting. I need to teach her to sing.
“That sucks. I feel lots of shit. I thought you just read my mind when I started remembering and stuff,” she says, interrupting my train of thought.
Killian grunt-chuckles, and I translate.
“He doesn’t read minds. His sense of emotions is either visual – threads – or chemical – scents.”
“Sometimes colors, sometimes sensations,” Killian adds.
“I’m just smelling c
rap. Mostly jasmine and roses.”
I push my free hand through my hair. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going on.”
“Burnt roses?” Killian asks.
Her brow creases in a look of concentration. “Sometimes.”
Killian glares at me.
“I’m controlling it,” I say.
I know I’m lying, and the next few minutes are going to be very hard. HealingSeeds are highly prized for the way their power turns hours of healing into seconds and days of it into just a few minutes. Seconds would be better, but I’m not a HealingSeed. She has weeks of healing ahead of her. I can’t turn weeks into seconds.
“Okay, concentrate,” I say, drawing Kitten’s eye from Killian back to me. “Try to use my power.”
“What power?”
I reach up and cup her cheek, my thumb trailing across her lips, then resting lightly at the corner of her mouth. Her breath stutters, and a seductive smile pulls at my lips before I manage to slip myself into control.
How did she manage to get Pax to agree to this?
Kitten’s already fallen into my Allure, but now she needs to use it. Draw it like a thin inked line across fine grade paper. Perfect.
“Concentrate,” I whisper. “Harmony.”
Harmony. I need to let myself be in perfect tune with the thing I’m doing. Exist like the brush does to a painting, like ink does to a book, like the sun does to a flower.
“Harmony,” I repeat the word I used when I first began to control my desires.
The more I relax, the more she relaxes, and the more my power draws in on her energy. One part of me is trying to prod along the edges of her being, looking for the gap that might be her Saber lineage, that might be a way for her to absorb some of me – and not finding it. It’s like her bloody bubble is just as much inside her as it is outside.
I still blame Eydis, or Mother – or the two of them working together. This all started right here.
“Harmony,” I repeat – stupidly because there’s a chance she doesn’t know what the word means.
As the power moves through her, she responds by balling into frustration. Her eyes pinch tightly shut.
I close my own and concentrate – hard. The barest thread of my power is moving of its own accord. Not really a thread, a wisp. Slim. Shadowy. Undefined. Almost non-existent.
No wonder I never notice her using it.
The power is so little, but the way she’s accessing it is so harsh, demanding. Lashing then releasing.
“Think about your arm,” I whisper in my hypnotic tones, watching as my power is tugged towards the break.
How is she Alluring anyone with such a sliver? I funnel more into her, following the wisp that she’s controlling.
This is taking too long.
Seconds of exposure would have been fine. The time required to say a sentence. A kiss, where our energies meet for less than a minute. This is minute after minute. Killian better be keeping track because I can’t nudge my power to heal her arm, talk her through healing it, and watch the flow of her energy escaping her. And it is escaping her.
It is slipping inside of me.
And I am enjoying it.
She snatches at more power, growling under her breath, pulling like she’s been waiting this whole time on the end of a leash. Ready to attack.
I struggle to draw the pain in her arm away, to give her a fighting chance at keeping her concentration, as new pain spikes through her head. Sharp bursts of power sear into her mind – into mine through this deeper connection.
Is this what she’s doing to herself when she accesses me? Hurting herself this badly?
Just one more second. That’s all I’m giving her. Or me. Us.
One more second.
The desire and the pleasure and the building tension tease at my own common sense, and I let more seconds tick by.
Bone creaks, the sound of one small shard pulling into place – at least I hope that’s what I‘m hearing.
She gasps.
“Stop?” I whisper.
“No,” Killian snaps.
She grits her teeth, but my magic isn’t enough, even with the extra I’m pooling into her – something is blocking me; this thin sliver is still all that is being put to use. And that blockage might be the only thing keeping me from jumping on her – ripping her bloody clothes off and not ceasing, not finishing with her, until… ever.
Until she’s dead.
Harmony.
I try to clear my throat, which sounds a lot like a strangled groan. “Imagine the power is silk, and you’re wrapping it delicately around the bone.”
The clock is ticking fast, and the healing is happening so very slowly.
Killian kneels beside the couch and grabs her arm. She whimpers, squirms, falters, and begins to struggle away. Begins to resist me.
I clamp my power down on her – hard.
Her mind reels. Another bone snaps loudly into place, but her body buckles.
“Want it,” Killian growls.
Aeons, Killian, is that what you’re doing? Motivation through increased pain – smart, brother, smart – in the stupidest way.
I feel her move to grip Killian’s hand and try to pry him away. The guy grunts but doesn’t relax.
Anything she tries to do with Allure now is only going to hurt more, damage more – we need to end this.
Now.
Or soon, I correct myself as a tantalizing sweet honey and saffron flavor tickles the back of my throat. Pressure slams into my chest as she hungrily sucks at my power.
And Killian’s.
Locking him in place.
Locking me in place.
Her essence caresses across my skin. Mortal and vulnerable and fading.
So fragile.
Infused with darkness, shadows, and instinct. Jasmine and lavender scents slip past my nose.
I’m smelling…
And feeling. Feeling inside of her as each muscle stubbornly knits in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Sinew and the delicate dance between tendon and ligament. The pieces of bone wanting to be whole again. And the crimson-gold color that floods through her veins. Flows from her into us.
So intoxicating.
She cries out. The first genuine noise she’s made.
The sound settles against my chest – pushing me back – and I want to recoil from it. But not Killian, he latches on harder, and his reaction makes both of us press in on her. If he needs her, then so do I.
My eyes are still shut, but I can see it all through our shared powers.
My hands cup her cheeks and pull her towards me, my lips wanting hers, as Killian grips her waist, lifts her, and wraps his arms around her middle. He nestles her back to his bare chest as the towel falls to the floor. I feel him tilting her head back, his fingers running through her hair. A pleasure-filled sigh slips from her flushed lips, across my skin, shivering through every fiber in my body. I can feel her wanting me. Wanting us.
And it makes my fingers search out skin – then Thane slams into us, and I realize too late that the door has burst open.
Ten minutes has passed.
I hit the floor mercilessly and snap my eyes open. For the barest second I see threads. Too many colors and scents to catalogue – but the crimson-gold from Thane to Kitten is brightest, glowing, pulsing, alive.
Then the world settles back to how it should be, and all I sense is his desire to keep his mate safe.
Kitten is unconscious on the couch – barely breathing.
“It worked,” Killian barks at the wolf, shaking his head sharply from side to side – as if clearing something from his vision too.
But the wolf is too quick, pinning Killian down and latching on to his arm. Canines bite through Killian’s flesh, and the guy grunts in pain. It’s the grunt more than anything that makes me run to his aid.
I throw myself into Thane’s side, dislodging the wolf and pushing the three of us out the door. Killian and I keep rolling until we’ve hit the bottom o
f the stairs. Thane, however, recovers quickly and manages to right himself at the top of the stairs – ready to attack.
But he doesn’t, can’t. His pre-planned actions mustn’t have reached this far, and he’s left heaving and snarling but unable to attack.
“It worked,” Killian snaps again, ignoring the bleeding wounds on his arm.
“It worked,” I confirm, even though I’m not exactly sure how I know that. Then my whole world drops from under me. “Shade!”
We’re too far away!
I run up the stairs two at a time. Too far. Too far.
Killian is hot on my heels, but Thane’s inability to react puts him behind us. With my heart ripping through my chest, I rush back into the cabin.
She’s not on the lounge. We were thrown out the door, and the wall would have hit her hard. Thrown her to the ground, crashing into the single-seater, to knock it over, but not out of her way. I find her on her hands and knees groaning and struggling to breathe.
I drop to her side and lift her chin to meet my gaze, but before she can comprehend it’s me, she collapses.
Killian grabs the back of the lounge and rights it with enough force that the thing comes to a stop resting against the far wall. Thane’s breath brushes my shoulder; the oversized wolf could take my head off. One bite, easy. But I’m hoping that wasn’t part of his pre-planning either.
I extend a thread to her, confirming as much as I can that our original healing worked. But she’s still hurting. I can feel that pain, and I look to Killian for confirmation.
“She’s fine,” he growls, as if any part of her that’s not fine will respond to his aggression and get fine.
I don’t want to even think about what the result might have been if she was pressed into the wall or the glass window. The window would have broken – and her affinity with Silvari glass aside, I’m pretty sure normal glass would do damage.
I pull my power back, watching her lungs continue to expand, her breathing rough but steady.
None of us move, waiting for Thane to retreat first.
He sniffs at the girl, offers us one last growl, then shifts with a violent flash back into the man. “Will she keep breathing?”
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 84
