JUMP (The Senses)

by Cindy Paterson

  The books began flying off the shelves. Galen ducked as several came hurtling towards him. The lights began to flicker, and the couch shook on its stubby legs.

  Waleron appeared when Damien’s tattoo began to move across his hand to slither up his arm. He raised both hands and Damien went flying through the air and hit the back wall.

  “Fuck.” Damien grunted at the pain in his back from the impact.

  Jedrik cleared his throat to keep from laughing as he got up from behind the couch. Galen wasn’t so fortunate and let out a chuckle. Damien’s eyes flashed, and one book flew threw the air and clonked Galen in the side of the head.

  “I warned you about that,” Waleron said nodding to Damien’s arm where the tattoo now settled. “Control it.”

  Keir felt Anstice in his mind. “What’s all the banging about?” she asked.

  “Not to worry, my love. Damien and Waleron are having an altercation. All is well. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  He felt her leave his mind, but not before she sent him thoughts of what they had done earlier in the day. His loins reacted and he shifted positions and cleared his throat with discomfort.

  “God, I hate it when you do that. Can you give us a heads-up when you just appear like that? Maybe wear a bell or something,” Jedrik said while brushing off his jeans.

  Keir said, “The Wraiths will come here to take Balen.”

  “And if that happens?” Galen asked.

  “The girl will die,” Waleron stated.

  “I won’t be part of this. No way in hell I’m going back to Rest for anything. I’m returning to Florida,” Damien said.

  “Good riddance,” Galen said under his breath.

  “The Virgin King is pissed because we like Balen more than him. Boohoo.” Jedrik chuckled.

  “Jedrik,” Waleron warned. “It is understood that the Wraiths will come for him.”

  “Yep. You think Genevieve will come herself?” Jedrik winked at Galen and in return, he got a roll of eyes.

  “We cannot go against them, but we can avoid them,” Keir pointed out.

  “Wraiths cannot break our laws either,” Waleron said. “They cannot harm any of us without reason. They have no reason if we let Balen and Danielle go. Until we discover what the cause is, they must be kept together, or she will die.” Waleron spoke to all of them. “Balen and Danielle will remain together until this is resolved. And they will have to run.”

  Chapter 8

  Balen knew the moment Danielle arrived at Keir’s, inhaling her sweet subtle scent of rain and cinnamon. She was in sleep, no doubt to keep her oblivious to what walked in the shadows of the human world. But not for long. He had every intention of informing her who he was, what he was. She deserved to know. Screw the laws. He’d already broken them and was royally screwed, what was another?

  He paced the length of the room down in Keir’s elaborate basement, a.k.a. the Tomb. His feet itched to run up the stairs and see for himself that Danielle was all right, but defying Waleron’s demand to remain here was not in his best interests. After all, the guy had turned the plane around.

  The door to the Tomb popped open. No one was there so he assumed the doing was Waleron’s. The guy had more powers than he knew what to do with.

  He ran up two flights of stairs tracking Danielle in the bedroom on the right was easy as her scent had become a part of him. He could find her anywhere on this earth.

  He threw open the door and then stopped abruptly when he saw Anstice sitting on the edge of the bed with Danielle’s hand clasped in hers. He stiffened, meeting his sister’s eyes and feeling the guilt steadily rise to the surface. It ate away at him, had for two years. They’d been separated all their lives, torn apart when she was two years old. When finally he had the chance to reunite, he had screwed up big time.

  “You haven’t forgiven yourself,” Anstice said.

  He said nothing. He deserved her bitterness and hate.

  She lowered Danielle’s hand and rose. God, she looked like their mother, regal with deep brown eyes filled with kindness. “Ryszard was going to make her his slave, wasn’t he?” Her voice was soothing, like a Healer’s. He remembered his mother’s voice being like that.

  He gave an abrupt nod, his eyes flashing for a second to Danielle lying so still and pale in the king-sized bed.

  “Forgiveness is not required, Balen. I owe you my gratitude for saving her.”

  “No,” Balen said. “I betrayed you, my sister, my blood and kin for a stranger. I risked your life and that of the warriors, the Talde. I did the unthinkable and drank his blood.”

  “Have you thought of the consequences if you hadn’t done what you did?”

  Yes, over and over and always he came to the same goddamn conclusion. He’d do it again. And that was what destroyed him. If given the chance, he’d do it again the exact same way.

  Anstice approached him. He stiffened as her soft footsteps stopped inches away. She raised her hand, and he flinched as she cupped his cheek. “We’ve missed many years getting to know one another. Please, don’t block me out now that you are back. I wish to know you.”

  He turned his head and her hand dropped. He didn’t deserve a sister.

  Anstice sighed. “She’s sleeping, although Waleron woke her from deep sleep a few minutes ago.” She took a deep breath and then walked from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  He stood where he was, afraid to approach, feeling uncertainty now that he was actually here. When he heard the theory of why Danielle was in pain, it made him sick to his stomach and he couldn’t get back fast enough. To be the one to cause her pain was debilitating. Did it ever end? The pain he caused others? And now . . . now he was unable to leave because he’d only cause Danielle agony. And yet a part of him knew that he’d stay for selfish reasons. She was his.

  Hesitancy swarmed him, something he was unaccustomed too. What if she was furious? What if she didn’t want to see him again? Could he live with himself if he saw emptiness in her eyes? No. Yet, if the theory was right, he’d have to endure her company for the rest of her human life or at least until they figured out what was causing this anomaly. She’d grow to hate him and regret ever meeting him.

  His heart escalated and his breathing intensified at the thought of looking into Danielle’s eyes and seeing repugnance.

  “Balen?”

  His body jerked and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. His knees actually weakened and it took several seconds before he could put one foot in front of the other and approach the bed. Shit, he was in trouble with this woman.

  Fear raced through him; he was afraid to look in her eyes and see resentment or hate, but when his eyes stared at her he saw . . . warmth. He wanted to cry with relief.

  She reached out her hand. When he remained immobile, she shifted towards the edge of the bed and took hold of it. “You came back,” she whispered. She rose up onto her knees and put her hands on either side of his head, pulling him towards her. “Took you long enough.”

  Before he could reply, her lips met his, soft and hesitant. Her taste seeped into his mouth, scent wafting across him like irresistible freshly baked bread. His loins instantly reacted and he groaned beneath her gentle kiss.

  He grabbed her shoulders and tilted his head, needing her with the intensity of a starving tiger for a juicy steak. He took control, moving his mouth over hers, his tongue swirling inside her, tasting, touching the velvet surface that sent tremors of desire through every vein in his body. Jesus Christ, he needed her.

  His kisses slid across her face, tongue grazing her familiar skin. He heard her heart racing to match his own, the heat burning their flesh to a feverish height. She was a part of him, the goodness that he lacked. Could he ever deny himself this woman? No, he was too selfish to let her go. The only word that roared through his head was mine.

  She tilted her head back. “God, it feels like forever since I saw you. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

  Without tho
ught as to where they were, as all common sense had flung out of his mind the moment she had taken his hand, Balen pushed her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. He wanted her like nothing in his life. Her scent was driving him crazy, the touch of her fingertips on his skin sending him up in flames.

  He had to have her. The wild animal inside sought freedom as it clawed at his insides, urgent to be released. He growled low in his throat, nipping at her ear, and then claiming her mouth for his own again. He felt her hands on his chest, so warm and . . . they were pushing. Pushing at his chest.

  Balen tilted his head up and all sexual urgency died in a flash. Danielle’s eyes were filled with panic. God, what was he doing? How could he be so callous and forget her fears? Was he that much of an animal? Yes, he was.

  “Jesus Christ.” He flew back so fast that he stumbled on the white area carpet and it took the wall on the other side of the room to stop him from falling.

  Danielle sat up. “Balen, I’m sorry, I just . . .”

  “You’re sorry? Bloody hell, Danielle, I was going to take you like a wild animal with no thought of your fear.”

  “You forgot. That’s all. And I didn’t say anything, did I? And you did stop as soon as you realized.” She rose from the bed, her pink boxer shorts and white tank top revealing far more of her body than he needed to see right now. Her nipples were erect through the skimpy top as if pleading with him to touch them.

  The desire rose again as her bare legs moved across the room towards him. His breath sucked from his lungs, eyes meeting hers as she stopped inches from him and raised her hands to place them on his chest. She did that often, resting them there like they had a place near his heart.

  “My pain is gone, Balen. You returned, and it disappeared. How that is possible . . . I have no clue. But it has something to do with you. With us.” Her fingers curled in his shirt. “Never do I want to feel that pain again. So don’t you dare walk away from me because you feel responsible for my fears.” She kissed his lips, then met his gaze. “You suffered at Ryszard’s hands more than I, Balen.”

  He grabbed her chin, his finger moving back and forth without thought. “You remember?”

  “Some. I remember us talking, the cages and . . . your torture.”

  But she had yet to remember him taking her blood. Fuck, if she remembered his mouth on her throat, he’d lose her. And he’d deserve it. She’d be disgusted and wonder what in hell she’d done sleeping with an animal. He was disgusted. Senses didn’t drink blood, but he had. He had taken Ryszard’s . . . and Danielle’s.

  Neither heard the door open, but both jolted apart at the sound of Keir’s voice. “Balen—living room—now. And drop your block from us.”

  Keir left, leaving the door ajar.

  She looked at her surroundings. “What am I doing at Keir’s? I don’t remember coming here?” Her eyes narrowed in on him. “What did Keir mean by lower your block?”

  “Nothing,” Balen said. Keir should know better than to mention their powers in front of Danielle.

  He had shielded his mind from all the Senses for two years, and it was difficult allowing them to communicate with him again. “Waleron brought you here for safety reasons. With the pain you were in, they could not leave you alone.”

  “I want to go home. I don’t care for any of them right now,” Danielle said. It was obvious she was still angry and hurt over Anstice’s lies.

  Balen stroked her jaw. “Ah, little one, you have no idea how much Anstice loves you. If you knew what she suffered. Still she suffers. Try to give her some leeway. I know it’s hard without answers, but I swear I will tell you everything. When you understand, you will forgive your friend for what she has had to do. It hasn’t been easy on her.” He put his finger to her lips, adoring the feel of the velvet surface. “I must go and speak with Keir. Later, we will talk about everything. I promise.” He was already in mega-shit, what was more piled on. He’d had enough of secrets.

  “I’ll come with you. I’ll just throw on some clothes,” Danielle said, rushing to the foot of the bed, where someone had laid her jeans and turtleneck.

  “No. You will remain here,” Balen ordered.

  Danielle whirled, jeans in hand. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” Her eyes narrowed with fury. “I’m not some little girl who needs to be kept in the dark. I deserve to know what the hell is going on more than any of you.”

  “Danielle.” Balen tried to keep his voice gentle, but it came out like a warning instead. Habit, he guessed. He was a warrior right through to the bone and it was difficult being anything but. He made decisions and he expected others to listen to him, no questions. Shit, she looked pissed.

  She whipped her jeans across the room, and they hit him smack in the face. “Fine, I won’t get dressed.”

  She did something he never expected—with a determined look on her face, she headed for the door dressed in the slinky tank top and revealing boxer shorts.

  “Danielle,” Balen warned with a deadly tone.

  She had the audacity to ignore him and disappeared out the door.

  “Fuck.” He ran after her. “Stop,” he shouted. She kept walking and he picked up the pace, managing to grab her arm and pull her to a halt. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She raised her fist and would’ve punched him in the nose if he hadn’t anticipated such a reaction.

  He lowered her arm feeling the tension in her muscles. Okay, get control of yourself. He knew she hated being ordered around and here he was doing just that. She had a mind of her own and he tended to forget that Danielle was bold at making a point.

  “How dare you give me orders!”

  He lowered his voice. “Danielle, please. Have mercy on me. If the other men see you like this, I will not be able to control myself. No one may see what luscious banana legs and delicious melons you have except me. Please?” he said. “I beg of you.”

  Danielle’s mouth dropped open and then she gave him a half-assed smack on the chest. “I hate testosterone. Fine, have your little male powwow,” she said. “But next time you have the urge to order me around, bite down real hard on your tongue and say to yourself, ‘I’m a jackass.’”

  “Or maybe I’ll just shut my mouth by doing this first,” Balen said lowering his head and giving her a soft kiss on the lips. He couldn’t help himself, even though he knew he should keep his distance, something kept drawing him back. He felt warmth and contentment in her arms, something he’d never had in his life. And it felt like heaven.

  “I want to know every detail. Understand?” She slipped from his grasp and turned to go back to her room, her hips swaying provocatively. She glanced over her shoulder. “By the way, the kiss—that’ll work,” she purred.

  Balen groaned. Hell, she’d have him crawling on his hands and knees before long.

  ****

  “Where have you been for the last two years?” Keir asked as soon as Balen entered the living room.

  Balen walked over to the bar and helped himself to a Bombay and tonic. “Nowhere special,” he replied. Discussing the hell he’d been through trying to rid himself of the vampire blood was not something he wanted to go into. Ever.

  Waleron, who rarely sat in anyone’s presence, was looking casual, sitting in the high-backed leather chair, one leg resting over the other. “It may have something to do with why you and Danielle cannot be separated. Did you speak of Danielle to anyone?”

  “No. I was trying to forget her, not torture myself,” Balen said. And it had failed miserably considering she had haunted his mind every single waking and sleeping hour.

  “I don’t understand it,” Keir said. “Who can do this? And why? What is the point of Bonding two people together? It has no purpose. Even Trinity cannot bond two people together like this.”

  Balen remembered the time Philana, a witch in Trinity’s coven, had attempted a love spell on him. It lasted five days and when it faded he’d found himself lying in Philana’s bed. His fury was catastrophic an
d if it hadn’t been for Waleron and Trinity, he would’ve killed the horrid witch. Could it be possible that one of them put some sort of spell on Danielle?

  “Bonded? Meaning a spell?” Balen asked. He leaned up against the cabinet that held an array of ancient artifacts. He swirled his drink around and around. It felt like what was happening inside him. “A powerful witch could do that, but not Trinity or her coven. GQ?” Balen asked.

  Keir raised his brows. “A witch would have nothing to gain. And a GQ has no knowledge of spells.” He shook his head. “No, someone more powerful. She would’ve died if . . . God, to think if you’d been put to Rest.”

  “More powerful,” Waleron repeated. “Did you feel anything while you were away? A spell being cast?”

  Balen hesitated. He had spent most of his time fighting the tainted blood inside him. It had been potent and stole his emotions, leaving him cold and heartless. It took every ounce of him to refrain from seeking vamps and joining them. The constant thirst begged him to drink from any who came near him. Addictive stuff when you hated all that you were and were seeking to rid yourself of guilt and disgust.

  “Balen?” Waleron asked.

  “No spells,” Balen replied.

  “How far were you from here?” Waleron asked.

  “I went to England for the first year and then returned to Canada. However, I never came to see her until recently.”

  “And when you came back?” Waleron asked.

  All he knew was that he’d had this urgency to be with Danielle the minute he laid eyes on her again. “It was odd. I never thought of it before now, but when I came back and saw her again, it was like . . . shit, I don’t know, like I was compelled to be with her. God, I even stayed outside her place like some stalker,” Balen admitted.

  “Shit.” Keir pressed his fingers to his temple. “Sounds like a spell. Why, though?”

  “Delara knows something,” Waleron said. Both men looked at him. “She warned me that Danielle would die if you were put in Rest. She refused to tell me why or who has done this.”