“Then don’t.” She rolled to the balls of her feet and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. “Besides, I think you’re forgetting one uncomfortable fact. Even thirty years ago, women had options. If the pregnancies had been completely unwanted, many would have terminated.”
“I am well aware.” He shuddered and shook his head. “Each termination created another victim of my—”
“Don’t.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’m not going to debate the morality of abortion with you. No more blame. The present is screwed up enough. We don’t need to borrow problems from the past.”
He nipped her finger then sighed. “You’re right. Each life is a celebration regardless of the circumstances of their birth. I won’t allow myself to forget again.”
“As an official representative of your past mistakes, thank you.” She lowered her arms and stepped back. Their desire for each other was a continual temptation, but they really did have things to do.
As if to echo her thought, he asked, “How does your leg feel this morning? Do I need to relax your muscles before we begin?”
“I’m a little tight, but I think I can stretch it out on my own. I’m still amazed. There’s no real pain.”
“Excellent.” He pushed the coffee table toward the wall, clearing more space in the center of the room. “How about your head? I saw you rubbing your temples.”
She waved away his concern. “A minor annoyance. If it gets worse, I’ll let you know.”
“All right. Then we’ll start with some simple concentration exercises and see how quickly you progress.” He motioned her toward him until they stood about three feet apart. It didn’t give them a lot of room to maneuver, but it was their only option. Unless they went outside and his insistence that she stay inside told her the entire property wasn’t shielded. “You’re a dancer, so I presume you understand the concept of muscle memory.”
“Of course. Repetition allowed me to perform common motions without having to think about them.”
“This works along the same lines, but the exercises are mental.”
“Other than blowing my hair dry, what use is being able to manipulate Air?”
“There are many ways to approach most tasks. If I wanted that remote in my hand.” He pointed to the television remote perched on the lampstand across the room. “I would dematerialize the object and reform it in my hand. Someone who was telekinetic would simply command it to move. You can lift it on a current of Air and sail it across the room into your hand. Each accomplishes the same thing, but each requires a different skill set.”
Curious, yet skeptical, she stared at the remote, waiting for it to move.
“Think about the gust of wind you created earlier. Remember how it felt and push the sensation toward the remote.”
He made it sound so simple, so possible. But she had created a gust of wind. Could she do this too? She kept her eyes open yet focused inward, searching for the sensation, the outward rush. It built gradually, rising from deep inside her. At first she thought she was only remembering what had happened before, but then her skin tingled and the hair around her face rippled. The tension continued to build, so she pictured a straw stretching between her and the lampstand. When the sensation became uncomfortable, she pushed the energy through the imaginary straw and the remote slid off the far side of the table.
“Very good.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Now put it back.”
She shot him a sidelong look, but he was watching the remote, apparently waiting for her to comply. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Before she had time to think about all the reasons the task was impossible, she pictured a miniature tornado, swirling around the remote, lifting and spinning it from the floor to the lampstand. The remote rotated clumsily several times then flew into the air, completely missing the desired landing pad.
“Again.” He remained calm and assured. “Slow it down so you can control the trajectory.”
His confidence made it easier for her to believe that she could actually do it. Her second effort was smoother, but she still missed her target. The third try, however, returned the remote to its original location. “I can’t believe I just did that.” Relief pushed a soft laugh from her throat.
He finally looked at her and smiled. “You’re a natural. Air is the hardest element to control, but it offers the widest range of abilities. At some point I should have a guild master assess your potential, so we can focus on the areas for which you have the strongest aptitude.”
“What sort of guild master?” Would they have to go to Bilarri for the screening? Unlike Tori, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go hustling across the cosmos. There were plenty of things to terrify her right here on Earth.
“Bilarri is separated into four regions. Each region honors one of the four elements. You need to be assessed by one of the masters from Guild Air.”
“What guild was Cizarro from?” Not that she wanted Odintar’s old lover to assess her!
His lazy smiled warned her that he knew jealousy played a part in her curiosity. “I didn’t know which region my mother’s people came from, so Tal asked for a mentor who moved in multiple elements. Cizarro was strongest in Fire, but she’d also trained with members of Guilds Air and Water. My natural element turned out to be Water, but her parting gift was a Bilarrian sigil.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s an image or symbol empowered with the giver’s abilities. Mine is in the shape of a dragon.”
“Really?” She felt her eyes round and smoothed her expression. “Do you have it with you? I love dragons.”
He chuckled. “It’s a little hard to leave behind.” He raised his T-shirt, bunching the material around his neck as he turned around. Even the spectacular expanse of his naked back couldn’t distract from the intricate dragon emblazoned on his skin. The wings spread from shoulder to shoulder and the long, muscular body undulated down along his spine. Primarily black and gray, the image was unlike any tattoo Jillian had seen before. It was three dimensional, raised and etched as if it had been carved—or burned—into his flesh.
“How did she… Is it a brand?”
He righted his shirt as he faced her again. “In a way. Cizarro possesses the same artistic flare as the best tattoo artists. Only she works with fire rather than needles and ink.”
“She burned that into your back.” She shuddered and shook her head. “How did you deal with the pain?”
“It was a rite of passage, a ceremony in honor of my achievements. Like birth, pain was a natural part of the celebration.”
If she dwelled on the process, she’d probably throw up, so she switched to the other element of the gift. “You said it was empowered. What does it allow you to do?”
“I can catch things on fire or absorb the heat of something that’s already on fire. But it only works once, then she has to recharge it.”
“Have you ever used it?”
“Twice. It’s unpredictable, so I have to be really careful. Luckily my Water affinity allows me to minimize the damage if things get out of control.”
“It’s beautiful, but I still can’t imagine allowing someone to burn my back for hours and hours.”
He ran his index finger down the side of her face and smiled. “It’s not a tattoo, sweetheart. It only took a few minutes and then we both got good and drunk.”
It was too easy to imagine where that led, so she asked, “What should we do now?”
“More of the same, I’m afraid. You can feel the Air within you, which is an important first step, but you must learn to channel the power without stifling it.”
For the next three days they worked continually, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep. At least Jillian presumed Odintar slept. He was always awake when she emerged from her bedroom in the morning and awake when she tumbled into bed exhausted each night. She suspected part of the reason he worked her so hard was to keep them from acting on their at
traction. But each time they touched, each lingering look, kept the heat simmering.
Day one focused on moving objects. She repeated the simple exercise with progressively heavier items until the action became effortless. Then she experimented with using Air to increase her strength and speed. More than once she ended up sprawled on the floor as her feet failed to keep up with the Air-infused pace. Still, by the end of the second day, she felt comfortable with her invisible assistant.
After lunch on the third day, Odintar taught her how to create resistance. Each time he advanced, she blew him back with a powerful gust of Air. She even managed to create a spinning current that prevented him from moving at all.
“Can you really not move or are you indulging me?” She let the miniature tornado dissipate as she waited for his answer.
His lips curved into a guilty smile. “A human wouldn’t be able to force their way through the barrier.”
She tensed. His tone had stopped just short of condescension. Even so, she refused to be coddled. “You’re not human and neither are the Shadow Assassins. What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ve made remarkable progress in so short a time.”
“But,” she prompted. Superficial praise was always followed by a but.
“Pausing to picture what you’re trying to accomplish is slowing you down. Air needs to flow freely. You’re still trying to control it. The harder you try to wrestle it into submission, the less effective you’ll become. Air must be guided along a helpful path, not forced to do our will. Do you understand the distinction?”
“I understand what you’re saying.” She sighed. She’d thought she was doing so well, yet he seemed disappointed. “I’m not sure my mind works that way.”
“That’s part of the problem. This can’t come from your mind. It has to be instinctive. You have to feel it.”
Her emotions generally ran so close to the surface that she struggled to remain focused. She’d spent years controlling her emotional impulses and only “emoting” enough to sell a routine. “But how can I concentrate on the outcome if I allow myself to become emotional?”
“Concentration isn’t your problem. In this case, your laser focus is holding you back. You need to relax and let it flow naturally.”
Another sigh escaped as she rubbed her eyelids with her fingertips. “That seems backward from how I’ve always done things.”
“Are you questioning my judgment?” His voice snapped with autocratic intensity.
Her eyes opened and she lowered her hand. All emotion vanished from his face and his posture tensed. What had him so wound up? “I’m not questioning anything. I’m expressing an opinion.”
“You don’t know enough about this to have an opinion.” He sneered and raised his chin. “Humans are so frustrating.”
Her jaw dropped and indignation shoved through her shock. “Are you serious? I’ve worked my ass of for the past three days—”
“Three days.” He scoffed then took a menacing step toward her. “I’ve spent more years in training than you’ve been alive. You aren’t qualified to question anything I say. Now get back to work!”
“Screw you!” She punctuated the curse with a blast of Air strong enough to slam him against the wall.
“Yes!” He laughed. “Do it again.”
Before her temper cooled, she harnessed the power and shot it at him like a fire hose. He spread his arms for balance and fought through the blast, so she poured more energy into the stream and gradually immobilized him.
Odintar finally teleported to her side, a pleased smile softening his expression. “Do you understand now? Elemental magic feels very similar to emotion. All the logic in the word won’t help you use it.”
“Are we really accomplishing anything? All you had to do was flash out of the way. Won’t Nazerel be able to do the same thing?”
He pushed his hand through his hair and his gaze turned smoky. They weren’t touching, but they stood close, easily within reach of each other. “The best move isn’t always offensive. If you can immobilize him, even for a moment, it will give you time to flash to safety.”
“Are you saying I can teleport?”
“Those empowered by Air can move effortlessly through space. The most powerful can even manipulate time. Once your training is complete, you’ll easily outdistance me.”
“And how long will that take? Have you really spent more years in training than I’ve been alive?”
“I was at the Conservatory for twenty-five years and spent another three decades learning from the guild masters on Bilarri. You can’t expect this to happen overnight.”
“I’m not.” She grinned. “It’s been three whole days.”
He chuckled “And you’re doing incredibly well.”
“For a human?” She sounded playful, but even knowing why he’d turned into a world-class dick, didn’t keep his comments from stinging. “If you spent almost sixty years in training, you have to be pushing one hundred. How long do Bilarrians live?”
“I’m one hundred forty-eight, if you must know. And it depends on the Bilarrian. Certain abilities can drastically increase a Bilarrian’s lifespan.”
“How long will I live?”
“That’s a great question for the guild master.”
She sighed and stepped back. “Does that mean you’re taking me to Bilarri? I’m not sure I’m ready for interdimensional travel.”
“I had to pull a few strings and call in a long overdue favor, but a representative of Guild Air is meeting us at the Bunker tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter Six
Roxie sprayed glass cleaner on top of the display case and wiped it down with a paper towel.
“I think you got it clean the first time you did that.” Tess snatched the spray bottle from Roxie’s hand and scowled. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Before Roxie could summon a believable excuse, Jett joined Tess on the other side of the counter. Two against one? That wasn’t fare.
“Today?” he scoffed. “She’s been stumbling around on autopilot for more like three days.” He fixed his dramatically lined gaze on Roxie and asked, “Hasn’t there been enough beefcake in your diet lately?” His brows arched while playful mockery shimmered in his dark eyes. “You always get mopey when Nazerel misses an appointment.”
Jett had the source of her distraction right, but his conclusion was so far wrong it was almost laughable. Nazerel’s failure to appear for his past two appointments was responsible for her concern. A secret crush, however, had nothing to do with her anxiety. Unfortunately, she couldn’t correct Jett’s misconception. Part of her deal with Sevrin was absolute discretion. “Nazerel has an amazing body. We’re all in agreement on that.” The other two supported the claim with enthusiastic nods. “He’s also an arrogant jerk. There’s only so long you can enjoy running your hands over a sculpted torso. Eventually, it’s nice to engage in conversation.”
“I don’t need to talk.” Tess closed her eyes in apparent rapture. “Just let me get my hands on him!”
Jett laughed and even Roxie smiled. “Sorry. No substitutions. Their benefactor is sort of twitchy.”
“Benefactor,” Tess muttered. “Why do full-grown, obviously capable, men need a benefactor? Have you decided what they are? Stunt men? Professional athletes? Fitness models?”
“Mercenaries?” All amusement suddenly vanished from Jett’s expression. He crossed his arms over his chest, prominently displaying the colorful tattoos covering his forearms. “I know Sevrin is paying you a fortune to indulge her crew, but those men are dangerous. You should never be alone with any of them.”
It was always nice to have a defender, even though any of Sevrin’s boys could snap Jett like a twig. Besides, his concern was misplaced. “The only one that really scares me is Sevrin.”
“The phantom benefactor.” Tess wiggled her eyebrows in mock drama. “Maybe she’s on the run from a foreign government or—”
“It’s
nothing like that. She’s in private negotiations with our government for some newfangled technology. Don’t ask me to be more specific. You know I can’t.”
Jett didn’t look convinced. His overly long bangs angled across his face, shadowing one of his eyes. “The men in her entourage don’t look like techies to me.”
“I don’t care what they look like,” Roxie insisted, “as long as their boss keeps paying the bills.”
The main door opened, postponing the rest of their conversation. One of Jett’s regulars walked in and Jett turned to greet his customer. Jett was the sort of man most people expected to find in a tattoo shop. His asymmetrical hair had been dyed black to match his moniker and he had eleven piercings, only half of which were fit for public display. He was friendly, ridiculously talented, yet temperamental. Typical artist.
Tess, on the other hand, concealed her talent behind conservative clothing and a nonthreatening smile. She appealed to casual shoppers, to coeds and housewives who wanted hearts and teddy bears tattooed on their ankles. Roxie valued them both and they worked well together because their clienteles were so different.
And Roxie fell right in the middle of her two employee/friends. With dark brown hair and ice-blue eyes, she wasn’t as intimidating as Jett, nor as mainstream as Tess. She didn’t wear enough makeup to be considered Goth, yet her formfitting clothes and colorful tattoos drew scornful looks from soccer moms.
“Jett’s right, you know.” Tess waited until the customer was out of earshot before she spoke again. “They might be fun to look at, but there’s something about those men that has me reaching for the pepper spray.”
“What do you want me to do?” She moved closer to the display case and lowered her voice. Each artist had their own station in the back, but they were only separated by pull-around curtains. “They haven’t done anything wrong and we’ve all benefited from their business. Should I tell them to go somewhere else because you and Jett don’t trust them?”
“Just be careful and don’t schedule sessions with them unless someone else is going to be here too.”
Fallen Star Page 11
