Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  She crossed her room, following the energy to its source, the dormitory hall. Tying the sash, she moved to the front door, stopping in front of it. Heart hammering in her chest, she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. As the lock disengaged she cracked the door.

  He stood, beautiful, frustrated, and still wet. One arm rested on the door jamb, head bowed as if he had been arguing with himself. His shirt clung to his sculpted body, sun streaked hair damp and shaggy around his tanned face. At the sound of the door his thick black lashes lifted. He froze—hesitating. His conflicted energy swept through her as his electric blue eyes scanned her body. Sam’s fist tightened around her sash, biting down on her bottom lip, barely able to breathe as his eyes traced every curve, revealing angst of unexpected erotic desire—and he found her eyes.

  He had nothing left. Caught completely off guard, his strength broke, conflict won out. In all the moments leading up to this one...when she thought she needed him, he realized how much he truly needed her.

  Self-preservation flooded through him. His restraint, will power, every device he had ever used to control or extinguish his own needs and desires came crashing down around him before he ever even had a chance to engage them.

  His initial reason for coming back vanished. Shoving the door open, he wrapped an arm around her pulling her to him, slamming the door shut. His lips pressed against hers, ravenous, taking what he needed. Nothing else mattered to him. Nothing.

  Drawing him in, Sam’s fingers pushed through his glistening hair, repressed desire set free, building with every touch, every caress. She molded to him, as he lifted her against the wall, so free, so alive, as if experiencing sunlight or truly breathing for the first time. Decadent power flowed unlike anything he had ever experienced. His lips left hers; hungrily searching every aspect of her neck, labored breath hot against her skin as he crushed her to him. She gasped, trying to find air—the way this felt—indescribable.

  An energetic shift.

  Sam grabbed his dampened shirt, pushing it up his sculpted back, his powerful muscles moving beneath her hands as he helped her pull it over his head. Wanting more, hearts racing, blood pumping, her craving fingers explored his powerful chest, pushing past his naked shoulders, caressing his neck and lacing her fingers into his hair—she pulled.

  Trin gasped, responding to the erotic pain, arousal flooding his body. He found her lips, pursuing, pushing. Reason and reality had disappeared. Trin was taken, lost in the seduction of the woman he loved. Wherever her ravenous fingers went the tension, stress, and pressure melted away beneath them, erasing the pain, the doubt, the crushing fear of defeat. She took him and he welcomed it.

  A few broad strides to her room, back to the bed he had forced himself to leave only ten minutes earlier. His powerful body pushed into her, soft lips moving passionately against hers.

  A measurable physical science erupted within the room, elements working together in a feeding frenzy as preparation set in to ignite a power that had not been alive for a century.

  Trin’s strong hand slid down the side of Sam’s body, his large fingers wrapped around her thigh pulling it up around his torso.

  A voice—buried deep within the euphoria of the moment—nagging him.

  Annoyed by the distraction he pushed it out, driven by his aching need for her. Never having experienced such power, he was unprepared to fight it, and in this moment he was unwilling to fight it.

  Sam’s fingers pushed into his back, her breath sweet and inviting on his neck, the exhilarating warmth of her mouth tracing the length from his collar bone to his jaw line, then pulling his face back to hers, erotic softness of her lips molding to his over and over again.

  Stop. Not yet.

  His hand moved to the sash on her robe, pulling at the knot, loosening the tie.

  You have not earned her yet!

  Trin flinched—pausing, the words rattled him. His pumping heart forced labored breath as conflict and truth wrestled for his attention. She was his Goddess; his sacred prize, yet he had given her nothing.

  Sam’s hand slid beneath the waistband of his jeans, pulling at the buttons. The sensation of her fingers yanked him right back to her. A throaty groan escaped him as his lips covered hers. He pulled the sash loose, the warmth of her skin flooding him like a drug and he followed its beckoning pull upward.

  Searing gold hummed around her, energy of living intelligence full of life and light—all elements positioned and ready to accomplish their reason for being; to ignite the Oracle power.

  You will lose her!

  “Sam, wait—” Trin stopped, catching her hand in an iron fist at his lower torso.

  “What?” she breathed.

  His face remained buried at the nape of her neck. Breathing in, he filled his lungs, clearing his mind, focusing on consequences. He lifted his head, releasing his vice grip on the bedspread and pushed his arms underneath her.

  She stared, waiting for the reason he had just interrupted the best moment of her life.

  “I love you, Sam.” His words washed through her like warm sunlight.

  “I love you too,” she whispered, “so much. I never knew this was possible.”

  Trin exhaled, his head falling forward. “I can’t even begin to explain why I won’t do this right now,” he said. He lifted his eyes to hers. “I can start by saying that you deserve better than this...because you do.”

  “But I want this,” she responded. “You said it earlier. I know you. I know us. We belong together.”

  “We do belong together.” He lowered his head, mumbling in Russian.

  “English please.”

  Trin exhaled, gazing at her. “Believe me, I want this too,” he said, his masculine hand moving a stray tendril of hair away from her forehead. “I am failing you if I don’t do this right.”

  “No, you’re not—”

  “Yes, I am.” His muscled arms pushed further underneath her, cradling her head in his strong hands. “I’m confusing you,” he said. “I excel at that, I know. I love you and I want you so much right now.” He hung his head. “This is so complicated.”

  She placed a hand on his face. “Just tell me, Trin,” she said. “Wouldn’t it just be easier? It seems like not telling me is harder.”

  “It is,” he replied, his fluorescent eyes laced in desperation. “But I’m still convinced it has kept you safe.” He shook his head. “Everything about you, the way you make me feel.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “I can’t even describe it.”

  “You don’t have to,” she replied. “I feel exactly the same way.”

  “I know.” He exhaled. “This act is sacred and I have to honor that. I really don’t have a choice, it’s how I was raised. You have been entrusted to me, Sam, and I will honor you. Please trust me. This will be simple, so simple. But we have to do it right and there are things that must happen first.”

  She searched his eyes. “Are you for real?”

  He cracked a smile, lowering his gaze. He didn’t feel worthy of her words—what had nearly occurred at his hands. He leaned forward, kissing her lips. “I really love you.”

  Emotion radiated from his aura into hers, enveloping her completely. She could’ve stayed there in his arms, gazing into his heavenly face forever.

  Resting his forehead on her chest, he groaned under his breath and then glanced up at her. “You gotta get me out of here,” he said. “Is it too late to meet up with Anna and Vig?”

  Sam sighed. “It’s not too late.”

  “I really will go home this time and get cleaned up,” he said. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  He paused before rising, kissing her mouth once more. He lifted himself off her and stood, blinding her in magnificence. His muscled shoulders rippled and flexed as he began searching the bed for his shirt, every inch of his sculpted upper body begging her back.

  Sam covered her face. “On the floor in the front room.”

  He glanced up, lig
ht eyes glinting through wisps of shaggy damp hair. “You okay?”

  “Go!” she commanded.

  He stood—a bewildered smile on his face. “I will hurry.”

  “Okay,” she said, turning her face to her pillow—pure torture. She watched through parted fingers as he turned to the door, regal magnificence in every move. His muscular defined back rippled, accentuating each muscle as he reached for the door knob and pulled the door open. Years of discipline and rigorous training now worked to pull her apart at the seams.

  As he walked out of the room Sam rolled to her side, staring at the wall. She heard the door close, feeling his energy fade, taking part of her heart with him, and she ached. The promise of seeing him in fifteen minutes motivated her to rise and pick up where she had left off before he had come back and permanently altered her life.

  Out in the sitting room, Trin retrieved his shirt from the floor, pulled it right side out, and stretched it over his head. He checked his pockets, making sure his keys were still there. They too were on the floor. He couldn’t even remember tossing them. Little remained that had occurred prior to Sam opening the door.

  Out in the hall he pulled the door shut. Walking away was without a doubt the hardest thing he had ever done. Never again would he have the strength to repeat it. He would tell her. Power like this could not be suppressed. It would find a way out, even past him—astonishing humility.

  He pushed the door open, walking into the crisp night, the scent of dried leaves and mountain air revived his senses as he walked to his truck with newly found resolve. It was time.

  Darkness hung in the woods nearby. Tall pines towered over the earthen ground and rocky terrain—the air still, space silent.

  A slight breeze picked up over the dirt path, growing stronger, ripping at the earth, hurtling spirals of dust skyward into the atmosphere. Above the disquieted ground the environment shimmered like a mirage in extreme heat, expanding, stretching to the ground like trembling liquid hands.

  A rupture in the air itself birthed tendrils of vaporous black smoke and from its core a young man in full motion crossed through—his stride well-paced, never slowing with an air of elegance and unwavering determination. Jet black hair accentuated eyes of deep jade.

  Facing an impenetrable wall of pine, his undaunted gaze drifted to the earthen floor. A fiery flash in his irises, and a rumbling snap fractured the earth’s surface. A plume of molten liquid shot though, devouring the green barrier, then vanished through the crack leaving a bare ashen path for him to walk through.

  His target had revealed—only for a moment, but long enough.

  Only a matter of time now. With quiet, sinister confidence he pushed through the smoldering brush to the dark shelter of the woods. The Veduny Oracle was nearly his, and he reveled in the irony that her Keeper would lead him right to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  S am entered the dance studio and sat down as other dancers filtered into the room one and two at a time. After securing her hair in a bun, she began unwinding the ribbon wrapped around her pointe shoes. The events of the previous night had her wrestling a myriad of emotion, shock, confusion, and bliss—too much to process. She knew she may be in danger, but the unexpected taste of the man she loved overpowered any residual fear. The sensation of his strong hands lingered on her skin, the savor of his soft lips still persistent on hers. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Slipping gel pads over her toes, she pulled her pointe shoes on, tying the ribbon in secure knots just below her ankles. She stood upright as Jana entered the studio and the dancers took position at the barre to warm up.

  As she began, a crushing feeling of dread threw her off-balance. The air diminishing around her as the room took on an angled distorted slope. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Sam, are you okay?” Erika stood behind her, grabbing her shoulders as she staggered. Sam tightened her grip—Erika’s question unheard. Her eyes drifted toward the windows bordering the top of the room. Suffocating energy panned the outer side of the glass like black night closing in on each pane, one after the other, searching—hunting.

  Intermittent images flashed in her mind; the beautiful woman from the night she was attacked—her face disfigured in terror, a striking set of twins with black hair and jade green eyes; one bearing Trin’s aura, the other radiating darkness. Trin’s angelic face and the inscription on his bracelet followed by a new inscription; the same Russian text, the same enigmatic stone, a very different symbol.

  The room plunged into darkness. Maniacal hysteria fought its way up her throat into a soundless scream as the very face of evil appeared before her. He stood, hollow eyes of unnerving beauty set in a perfect face, coupled by an ironic visage of seething rage, hatred, death and damnation.

  Behind the eyes lay the very composition of pain, and misery. He stared, watching her, pounding at her brain. She glanced at her hands, no longer gripping a ballet barre, but the golden handle of a brilliant dagger, her fingers and the blade bathed in sticky crimson. She dropped to the floor as the dancers and Jana raced to her side.

  “Sam!” Erika was already on her knees. “Sam, what is it?” She grabbed Sam’s shoulders, trying to get her attention as Sam’s disoriented, terrorized gaze flew to her face, eyes darting around the room, down to her hands. The dagger was gone, no blood, nothing.

  Jana grabbed hold of her. “Sam, what happened? Are you all right?” All of the dancers looked on with concern. “What happened?” she repeated.

  Sam studied her hands, then the windows near the ceiling—the energy had passed, images gone. Pulling herself to her feet with help from the others, she said, “I don’t feel very well. I’m sorry, Jana, I have to go.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Jana asked. “Do you want someone to go with you?”

  “No,” Sam replied, gathering her things, trembling from head to toe. “I just need to go lay down. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry.” She hurried for the door, leaving the other dancers speechless behind her. She burst into the hallway, racing for the bathroom. Pushing the door open she sank down in the corner, face in her hands, tears flowing.

  No longer able to distinguish between reality and dreams, she knew something real could easily be waiting outside. She pulled her cell phone from her bag, dialing Trin, praying he would answer.

  No signal.

  She stood, dialing again, hoping to find reception. Back and forth she walked. The call connected. She froze to retain the signal.

  Please pick up!

  “This is Trin, I can’t get to my phone—”

  No!

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she checked the time.

  One thirty p.m.

  Trin was in a meet and wouldn’t be near his phone for another half hour. She thought about calling Anna or Vig, but she couldn’t put them in danger. Trin was the only one who could help her. She hit end and began a text message

  I’m in the lounge in the dance building. Something is outside and I can’t leave! Please hurry!

  Still trembling, she took a deep breath and stood. In one of the stalls, she took some tissue and began drying her eyes. One more deep breath and she went for the door to wait in the lounge. Sinister energy blasted the environment. Sam ran for the corner, sliding down the wall, hands over her mouth muffling her cry as demonic blackness swallowed the room.

  In a natatorium locker about a mile up-campus Trin’s phone beeped with a new text that would remain unanswered for far too long.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  T rin walked to his locker with his goggles and cap in hand. Adam moved past him, opening his own locker. “Nice work, bro, we buried ‘em.”

  Trin smiled, pulling his locker open. He set his cap and goggles inside and went for the small zipper pocket in his bag. His bracelet only came off when he swam. It was the last thing off and the first thing back on. Unzipping the pocket, he pulled it out, draped it over his wrist, and snapped the clasp closed.

  He glanced at his phone, noting a new t
ext message. Trepidation set in. He ripped the phone from his bag and retrieved the message. “Блядь!”

  Adam glanced up. “What is it?”

  Trin grabbed his warm up pants, pulling them on. “I need you to get my stuff for me,” he said pulling his shoes on, his voice rough with panic. “I have to get to Sam.”

  “What’s wrong?” Adam begged. “Do you need help?”

  Trin grabbed his keys and tore through the locker room. “Just get my stuff.”

  He shot through the parking lot, racing to his truck, tore the door open, and climbed in the driver’s seat. Shoving the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. He slammed the truck into reverse and floored the gas, screeching out of the parking lot at full speed.

  He dialed Sam’s number. Right to voicemail. With a curse he dialed again—voicemail each time.

  “Anvil, Помогите мне!” Help me! He waited in anguish for a response.

  “Она в безопастности.” She is safe.

  Trin barreled into the parking lot of the dance center. “Где она?” Where is she?

  She is in the restroom on the first floor. Go get her and keep her with you. You must tell her everything now.

  Trin screeched to a halt, killing the engine and leaping out of his truck. A couple of dancers leaving the building stopped, heads turning toward the gorgeous, bare-chested Olympian racing past them in a panic. Trin hurried inside, not knowing where to go. Sunday afternoon—the building was deserted aside from a few scheduled rehearsals. No one in the hallway to ask. But then “where’s the ladies room?” wouldn’t have gone over very well.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he fine-tuned his psyche and called out to her. Sam....where are you?