Chronicles of Arcana (The complete collection books 1-4)

by Debbie Cassidy

  “Don’t come after me. Survive for the both of us,” he said.

  “Please.” My eyes snapped open to inky darkness.

  “It’s all right.” Azren’s breath tickled my ear.

  The world slowly bled into focus, my back to his chest, and his arms around my waist holding me loosely, carefully.

  “I’m here. Sleep.”

  No. I needed to wake up. Valance ... There was something I had to do and it was related to ... My mind churned, trying to grasp the important action that was slipping away, but my body had other ideas. It relaxed against Azren and dove back into the sea of slumber.

  ***

  “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks,” Gilbert said, setting a tea tray on my bedside table.

  I ran a hand over my face. “How long have I been asleep? Where is everyone? What time is it?”

  He chuckled. “Almost seventy-two hours. But Noir said that was normal for healing. They’ve all been here, taking it in turns to sit with you. Tay, Noir, Valance, and, of course, Azren, although I get the impression he would rather have monitored you on his own. Tay and Noir left an hour ago; they both had business to attend to, but they said they’d be back. I’m not sure about Valance. He was just gone, and I only just managed to convince Azren to go eat something. Oh, and it’s almost six p.m.”

  I pressed a hand to my temple. They’d all been here. They’d stayed with me. Seventy-two hours. Shit. It felt like yesterday. Balen’s face, his ghastly face and rotten breath ... A fist clamped itself around my lungs, making it difficult to breathe for a moment.

  “Wila?” Gilbert’s phantom hands brushed my face. “It’s all right. It’s over. You’re safe.”

  I was home. I was fucking home. The fist eased up, and my breathing evened out. “I’m okay.”

  I didn’t need to see his face to imagine the concern etched into it. He poured me some tea but didn’t hand it to me. “How’s the pain?”

  I glanced down at my abdomen and carefully lifted my T-shirt to examine the pale, scarred flesh beneath. Long lines ran across the whole of my stomach, raised in angry red and white welts.

  “It will heal fully,” Gilbert said. “Noir said it will take time. The wounds were deep.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “You seemed to have healed some of it yourself, but the rest Noir helped with.”

  I’d healed myself—another change to my body, another strange occurrence. I covered up the scars and squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the terrifying image of Balen’s face flaring to life in my mind again. “I couldn’t fight him, Gil. He was too strong. I ... I’ve never felt that helpless before. No K, no daggers, nothing.”

  “But you survived.”

  My eyes pricked. “No, I just kept him busy until Valance arrived. I ran, Gil. I ran because I wasn’t powerful enough to stop him from hurting me.”

  All this time, I’d fought alone. I’d put myself in danger time and time again, and I’d come home unscathed, triumphant, and I’d believed I was invincible, but Balen had shattered it all. In that chamber, I’d been stripped bare and he’d won. Valance had saved me, but Balen had bested me because he was here with me, in my fucking head.

  “You survived, Wila. You held your own against a Shedim, a demon of great power.”

  “Because of you. You gave me your strength.”

  He was silent for a long beat. “I didn’t give you anything, Wila. I simply gave you the confidence to believe in yourself, to keep pushing and not give in.”

  “But you said—”

  “It was a wish, a prayer. Nothing more. But I’m ever grateful it gave you strength.”

  Me. That had been me. I’d withstood Balen alone until Valance had come. I’d survived. Not so weak after all.

  “You may not be all powerful,” Gil continued. “You may not have the Arcana, or the physical strength of your adversaries, but you have the strength of will and determination of a warrior. You have the wit and intelligence of a master thief, and you have the heart of a lion.”

  My throat tightened with emotion. “I love you, Gil.”

  “I love you too, Wila.”

  Dammit, I needed a hug.

  The bed dipped as he sat down and then his presence wrapped around me, warm and comforting. I closed my eyes and reveled in it for long seconds. He withdrew slowly, reluctantly. “Azren has been different with you since you returned. Valance too ...”

  Things had happened, so many little things, and my mind was still wrapping itself around them, trying to tease out what it all meant.

  I pulled back. “When Elora was beating Azren, I think I connected with him, and I saw stuff. I saw the truth about Elora, about what she did to enslave the Shedim, how she convinced them that she was saving them.” I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Azren about what we’d shared yet, but saying it out loud now helped to get it straight in my mind. “There was a treaty, an agreement with the Shedim for equality, and she killed Ivan. She ruined his vision of peace and created one of her own where the Shedim believed her to be some kind of savior and willingly allowed themselves to be enslaved. She told me she changed historical memory. But she wouldn’t tell me how.”

  Gilbert was silent for a long time, and when he spoke, his tone was reflective. “She succeeded in manipulating the memory of a whole race?”

  “And the Draconi, because I won’t believe Valance knew about any of this. He couldn’t have.” Something niggled at the back of my mind. The way he’d helped me, the way he’d been eager to find the rogue Shedim to protect me from his mother. The way he’d wanted to be involved. “I think ... I think he may have suspected something, though.”

  “I know of no Arcana magic powerful enough to manipulate memory in such a way,” Gilbert said. “But we know very little of the magic that Draconi have access to.”

  The puzzle pieces were falling into place. “The rebels know the truth. It has to be why they’re rebelling. They must have evaded whatever she did. And telling Shedim the truth doesn’t help, because whatever she did to them prevents them from hearing it. That’s probably why they’ve been taking Shedim. They’re probably doing the whip thing to them that they did to Azren. That glowing whip somehow undoes whatever she’s done. No wonder she’s so frantic. She knows there’s a weapon out there that can counter her memory manipulation.” But there was more. “The whip touched me too.” I stared at my hands, recalling the talons that had pushed out of my fingertips. “And now something’s happening to me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I grew talons.”

  “Talons?” He sounded perplexed.

  “Yes, talons.” I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers. “From my fingers, and I’m pretty sure I had scales cover my arm too. It didn’t last long, but I swear I saw it. Gil, something’s wrong.”

  There was a long beat of silence, and then he handed me my cup of tea. I took a sip, glad it was still hot.

  “Not necessarily wrong. Maybe you’re coming into your neph power,” Gilbert said. “We have no idea who sired you, but I can document the changes and maybe they’ll give us some clue.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course.” Gentle pressure swept over the crown of my head. “There’s nothing to fear, Wila. You’re safe, and we will figure this out together.”

  The door opened and Trevor padded in. He leapt up onto the bed and stared at me. “She looks pale,” he said.

  “I thought she had a little more color to her cheeks than yesterday,” Gilbert countered.

  “No, that’s the reflection from all the damned pink in the room.” He sniffed.

  I bit back a smile. “You’re in my room, Trev.”

  He huffed.

  “That means you must love me.”

  “Pah.” But if a dog could smile, then he’d be smiling. His nose wrinkled. “Someone needs a shower.”

  I raised an arm and sniffed my armpit. Urgh. Yep, definitely coming from me. But the idea of standing in the shower
or climbing in and out of the bath didn’t appeal. My limbs still felt like jelly.

  Something bumped the door and Trevor rolled his eyes. “Bloody Hound.”

  Pushing back the duvet, I shuffled out of bed and padded to the door. Hound lay across the threshold like a sentry. He raised his head at the sight of me, and then nudged my knee as if to say, glad you’re okay.

  I buried a hand in the fur behind his ear and then crouched down to press my face against the top of his head. He tensed and then relaxed in increments. Whoever he was, wherever he’d come from, I was grateful for his solid presence.

  “Hey, fancy helping me to the bathroom?”

  Hound stood and, using him as a crutch, I hobbled my way across the hall to have a wash.

  ***

  Feeling a little fresher than before, I climbed down the stairs with Gilbert hovering at my back and Hound at my side. Every step was a jarring experience, but we made it. Hound padded off into the lounge and Gilbert did his going-away thing because Azren was close. I could sense him, hear his heartbeat. No, that was fanciful and pretty impossible.

  Azren was seated at the table, the Daily Vine spread out in front of him. The sight of the Shedim sent warmth rushing through my limbs and collecting at the base of my spine. It traveled upward and settled at the nape of my neck.

  I stepped through the arch into the kitchen, and his head whipped up.

  “Wila.” His eyes flared bright jade and his jaw set. He shoved his seat back with a scrape, strode across the kitchen, and swept me up into his arms.

  “Whoa. What the heck?”

  “You’re supposed to be resting.” He walked out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

  I tapped his chest with my index finger. “I’m hungry.”

  He faltered for a moment but then continued up the stairs. “I will bring you food.”

  “Um, okay, caveman. I’m perfectly capable of making myself a meal.”

  “Ahem,” Gilbert said from behind us.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’m perfectly capable of making myself some cereal and ordering a takeaway.”

  But we were back in my pink haven and Azren was lowering me onto the mattress as if I were made of cut glass. He hovered over me for a second, lips pressed together, and then he sank onto the bed beside me. His bare arm brushed mine, and his familiar scent seeped into my head.

  Gilbert’s presence retreated and the door closed softly, leaving us alone.

  He studied me, his intense gaze tracking my features like tiny caresses. “You’re not fully healed. You need to stay in bed.”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sore. But I’d be a lot worse if Noir hadn’t done his mojo thing. I can’t stand being cooped up.”

  “You healed some of the wounds on your own.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes.”

  Our gazes locked and my pulse skipped as the connection between us zinged.

  The expression that crossed his features was part pain, part pleasure. “Can you feel it?” His voice was a low, rumbling caress.

  I could feel something—liquid heat low in my belly, a gentle throb at the apex of my thighs, and a delicious knot of anticipation in my chest. I could feel tendrils of ether emanating from his skin and skimming over mine in an ethereal caress. I could feel a tug in my solar plexus every time our gazes tangled.

  “What ... What is it?” I leaned into him instinctively, and he laced his fingers with mine, squeezing gently. “What happened in that chamber? What happened between us?” There was a part of me that knew, and that understood clearly what we’d done, but the other part, grounded in reality, needed to hear him say it.

  He ran the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, his breath ragged. “Remember I told you that every Shedim had another half, a Kindred, born on the same day as them.”

  “Yes.” My voice was a breathless whisper.

  “I think ... I think you’re mine.” He cupped my face, the calluses on his palms sending delicious signals to my brain, and tilted it so our lips were a hairbreadth apart. “I don’t understand how, you’re barely over two decades old, while I’m closer to seventy, but the connection is there.” He frowned slightly. “Although this kindred bond isn’t how others described it to be. The connection is muted. It makes no sense. You aren’t Shedim, and yet, somehow you feel like you belong to me.”

  Muted? This tugging, yearning, constant need was muted? What would an unmuted connection feel like?

  His lips hovered over mine before dipping to brush across my mouth, feather-light. This was it, this inexorable need to be in his orbit, this sudden innate understanding of his desires. He’d barely touched my mouth with his and my lips were throbbing, begging for more as if intoxicated by his attentions. I needed his tongue in my mouth, needed his weight pressing down on me, grinding against me until I unraveled.

  His gasp was a ragged sound as he released me and tucked in his chin. “You need to stop.”

  “What?”

  He closed his eyes and cracked his neck, breathing through his nose. His hands were fists on the duvet. He flexed his fingers and slowly opened his eyes. “Your thoughts ... The things you want me to do to you ...”

  Oh, shit. “You can read me? I thought you said you wouldn’t do that.” My cheeks heated with indignation.

  “I wasn’t reading you. You were speaking to me, pushing your needs into my mind, and dammit, Wila, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to resist giving you what you want.”

  He kept his gaze averted and desire rose like a wicked wave inside me. “Look at me.”

  He made a strangled sound. “Fuck no.”

  I placed a hand on his thigh, moving it upward, slowly, inch by inch. “Look at me.” The muscles of his thigh contracted sharply beneath my fingers. And, yeah, I was playing with fire, but the ache between my thighs begged me to continue, to tell him how I needed him to touch me in my most intimate places.

  His chest rumbled in warning a split second before he turned toward me. His hand grasped the nape of my neck and his mouth came down on mine, crushing, desperate, and hungry. I opened for him, ready for the sting and lap of his teeth and tongue and the coppery taste of my blood. But this time, the sting didn’t come; his teeth clashed harmlessly with mine, and it was me that claimed his tongue, sucking on it and drawing it into my mouth, swallowing his moan.

  His hand slid down over my breasts, cupping and kneading as I swelled against him, and then he reached my stomach and flames raced across my torso. My body tensed around a wince.

  “Wila, fuck.” He tore himself away. “You’re still healing.”

  “I’m fine. I can take it.”

  He swung his legs off the bed so his back was to me. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he got himself under control.

  I gnawed on my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I don’t know how to do ... gentle. I just ... I don’t want to hurt you.” When he turned to face me, the glow in his eyes had ebbed. He was back in the driver’s seat. He leaned back against the headboard and pulled me against him. “Let me just hold you.”

  I laced my fingers with his again. How could this feel so right? How could we fit together so well? “What happened at the Keep? How did you get away?”

  “Noir came for me. He had a transponder.”

  “But how could he have known?”

  “Valance called him.”

  The way Noir had reprimanded Valance that time he’d gotten too close to me, the way they’d bantered back and forth, it suggested familiarity, but they’d never admitted knowing each other outside of their association with me.

  I sat up, twisting slightly to look into Azren’s face. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Valance has Noir’s digits? I think they know each other from before they got involved with me.”

  “There’s only one way to know for sure and that’s to ask them.”

  I sat back. “So, Noir got you out using the transponder ...
where were you?”

  His heart beat a little faster beneath my palm. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I closed my eyes, biting back a scream. “She had you, didn’t she? She was ... she was forcing you to be with her.”

  Azren gripped my hand, the one that was on his chest. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”

  But it wasn’t. It would never be over until she paid for the abuse and the hurt she’d caused him. It wouldn’t be over until I ripped out her evil heart, and he knew it.

  “Was she with you when Noir found you?”

  “No.” He’d gone all tense beside me.

  Oh, God. She’d finished using him and left him alone. My heart ached for him, and impotent fury writhed in my gut. But pushing the subject, forcing him to recall it, to speak about it, wasn’t fair. I forced myself to relax against him, to exhale the rage that was building up inside me, and his muscles unknotted in response.

  “What happens now?” We needed to be realistic, prepared. “No lies, Azren. No kidding ourselves.”

  He let out a rumbling sigh. “We know her secret. She won’t let us go.”

  “But it’s not as if any Shedim will believe us. Balen didn’t even bat an eye.” Safe in Azren’s arms, saying my attacker’s name didn’t evoke the same fear it had earlier. He was dead. He was gone. I was safe. “I don’t think he even heard me.”

  “But the neph here will. They may believe us,” Azren pointed out.

  “But they won’t care. The Collective won’t get involved in Draconi business, not unless it affects them directly.” Something Elora had said tickled the back of my mind. “Not unless they believe Elora is planning something else, something bigger.” I looked up at Azren. “She said that soon no one would remember me, not you or anyone else. She said nothing we’d seen would matter.”

  “You think she’s planning something targeted at this side of the border?”

  “How else would she get my loved ones to forget me ...” A horrific thought gripped my mind. “Oh, God. The spell, whatever she did to your people, what if she’s planning the same for us?”