by D. D. Miers
“Yeah, yeah.” I broke free of his hold. “You know what I’m really tired of hearing? How much I don’t understand or how the explanations aren’t easy. Maybe if people started telling the truth, half of this crap wouldn’t be happening.”
He slowly walked beside my hobbling. “Sometimes, the people protecting you the most are the ones you never see.”
I laughed. “If I hear another fucking person tell me how much he’s ‘doing’ for me, I swear I’ll start screaming.”
Luca wanted to argue, but I raised my palm for him to stop. “I just want you to answer the question for me, Luca. One question—honestly. Will it be the same or worse?”
He paced a few steps ahead of me and held open the chamber doors. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
He was right. I didn’t.
Chapter Two
My fingers slammed into synthetic flesh as I pounded rapid punches in thunderous repetition. The stiffness of the dummy’s stomach caused an ache to radiate from my knuckles to my shoulders. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t care. I needed the pain to remind me this was real and not some fucked-up dream.
Eight weeks ago, a woman had given her life for me. I still see Isadora’s kind blue eyes flickering as she died. She believed with such certainty that I would save this world, she sacrificed herself. Here I was, two months later, and still no Relic.
Still no magic.
Still . . . useless.
I dropped to the ground and kicked the dummy’s legs out. The metal base wobbled left then right, almost toppling over before I steadied it again.
Where the hell was my magic? If I truly was the Relic Keeper, why hadn’t it come to me?
For the millionth time since this all began, self-doubt and overwhelming guilt consumed me. I jabbed an uppercut to the dummy’s rubber jaw with the base of my palm. Moisture covered every inch of my skin, glistening over my chest and back. My clothes were soaked through. These sessions were my only reprieve. With no magic forming, I’d spent every day training. Hours on end, I’d work to make myself stronger, faster, better. When I did find the Relic, this worlds-saving trinket, I’d be more than ready.
Although, the Relic had become the social equivalent of a unicorn, an imaginary thing that’s totally amazing—if you could find it—but no one’s ever actually seen it. And then came the part of me knowing how to actually wield it. The damn uncertainty of the Relic and what I’m supposed to do with it ripped opened a raw space in my soul. I hated how vulnerable all of this made me feel. My every failing was raw and exposed, and there was no defense for my failure to fulfill the expectations of my judges hidden in shadows.
Vulnerable was not a word I’d ever liked. I could handle pressure, pain, and disappointment. I’ve known those things all my life. What I couldn’t handle was losing control. The Council’s actions had crossed the line. If I didn’t give them what they wanted soon, there was a strong chance they would try to take it from me by whatever means necessary. Their actions made that clear. Who knew what awaited me the next time.
So much had changed since October, and yet, everything remained the same. I thought back to that night. The events of the Lumenara Masquerade left me forever scarred—both emotionally and physically. My hand went to the jagged line directly over my heart, the space where she had almost killed me.
She—as in, Yasinda. The Black Walker. Kieron’s ex-wife.
Kieron. As if I didn’t have enough complicated shit to deal with.
I’d been avoiding everything and every memory that brought him to mind. The thought that he’d shared any kind of love or tenderness for someone else burned me from the inside out. The terror of vulnerability had stopped me from making what I assumed was a major mistake . . . and yet, it seemed right.
As much as I tried to deny it to myself, he wasn’t the only one to turn away from whatever pulled us together. I’d been too scared that night, too. When I finally had the strength to accept what might be, he rejected it . . . me . . . us.
And Dorian. I didn’t even want to know what would happen if he found out about it. He’d been so kind to me over the last several weeks, coming to visit as often as he could. Supportive but respectful while I was on lockdown at Kieron’s estate. He almost kissed me at Lumenera, but Kieron had appeared suddenly to play chaperon. Not having Kieron constantly around left my heart open to Dorian’s kindness, and yet, there was still a part of me holding back.
To say I was conflicted was the understatement of the year.
Fact. Kieron, the Dark Summoner, had abandoned me to the Council when I’d needed him the most.
I flipped backward to dodge an imaginary blow and reached for my sword on the floor. I moved left, then right as I swung my blade in the rhythm Reagan, my bestie and badass Triae warrior, had taught me. My failings at Lumenara haunted me. If I had been strong enough, capable enough, I could have saved a dozen lives. Now the First Realm had lost four Council members, an elder, and their high priestess. I’d failed once. I’m not sure they’d allow me a second mistake.
The expectations suffocated me, and I desperately needed to live up to them.
My only motivation, the only thing that kept me going, was a single memory. For one brief moment I was powerful. Not the weak girl always at someone else’s mercy. For one single second, I was a force to be reckoned with. That was my real motivation. I wanted to be her again, no longer needing to be saved.
Powerful, strong, and in control of my own destiny.
No Council, no Dorian, no . . . Kieron. An ache formed as his eyes flashed through my mind again. He had abandoned me these last several months. Luca may have been my escort, but I’d never felt more alone, especially after what the Council had put me through last week. I pretended his absence didn’t matter, but inside, it did.
I’d grown accustomed to the chill brought on by Kieron’s absence. At first, I barely registered the slow burn building within my chest. It worked its way outward until it reached my fingertips and toes. My breath faltered, and an exquisite warmth overtook my flesh. I went from mildly heated to sun-scorched, fevered.
Kieron was here.
The return of his presence was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a frigid, blood-numbing day. In one instant, the sun—his sun—shone down on me. It was breathtaking. The desperation to turn around and look into his smoky-gray eyes terrified me. I hadn’t forgotten the way those same eyes looked over me with total and utter desire. I also couldn’t forget how cold they had turned the night when he’d told me to forget what had happened.
And yet, my body still yearned to be near him and craved his touch. It took every bit of my willpower to keep myself rooted and not turn around. My mind warred with my body. I hadn’t seen him in weeks and suddenly I was jonesing for another dose of Kieron.
We’d barely spoken five words to each other since the night of the masquerade. Every message had been from Luca or Reagan. The first few days after our “incident” as I liked to call it, I avoided him. Then suddenly, he had disappeared. I had thought time and my training would give me back a sense of control over my feelings. Strengthen my resolve.
That hadn’t happened.
He didn’t speak, didn’t make a noise, as his magnetic heat radiated outward. He expected me to stop and yield to him. Like hell I would. If he had something to say to me, he’d have to speak first.
Ever the mature one, I ignored him and continued my practice. I lifted the sword overhead to bring it down on the dummy’s skull, when it was unexpectedly ripped from my hands and flew backward through the air. I heard the heavy wood echo as it clattered to the floor and landed across the room.
Apparently, he was tired of waiting.
I grabbed a towel off the floor and patted my face. I used the time to take a few deep breaths, not to calm myself but to cultivate my anger for him. My hair had grown several inches and now my long brown ponytail hit my mid-back. I hung the towel over my shoulder, re-tied my hair and smoothed the loose tendri
ls around my crown.
If I took too long, he’d know I was stalling. Finally, I dropped the cloth to the ground and turned toward the doorway.
A thousand tiny pinpricks heated the depths of my belly as our eyes finally met. I ached to touch him but resisted the urge. The traitorous elhun within me craved his very being. I refused to acknowledge it, especially since he didn’t.
We stared each other down, only a few feet separating us. I waited for him to explain himself, but he said nothing.
His silence only further infuriated me. How dare he interrupt my workout and then just stand there! “Why do you always have to be such an ass?”
“Ms. Davenport.” He inclined his head politely but something in his eyes showed a residual ire. The muscles of his arms were coiled to perfection, and the newer tan on his skin enhanced the sharp lines of his face and body against his white dress shirt and black suit. He looked good. Too damn good.
“Is there something you needed?”
He leaned away from the wall and moved into the room. “What are you doing?”
“Training—obviously.”
He smirked. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I was busy.”
He maintained the uncomfortable, intense eye contact, which felt like my inner secrets were exposed with nowhere to hide. It did, however, give me time to appreciate his face without feeling embarrassed. His dark obsidian hair was a bit longer now, unrulier with it mussed atop his head. For someone who thrived on control, it seemed out of place, and yet it only added to his sexiness. Had he been too busy to get a haircut? Or was this something new he was trying?
I held his silent stare for as long as I could before I caved. “Where the hell have you been?”
He raised his brows. “Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
My inner traitor screamed, Yes! But I kept her foolish mouth shut. “I don’t have time for your games.” I marched across the room and passed him, grabbing my sword off the floor before I stormed back toward the dummy. Aromatics of sandalwood and leather mingled with citrus exuded from him, teasing my nose. I had to stop myself from leaning in to get a better whiff.
“Fighting against an opponent who doesn’t think—doesn’t react—won’t teach you any advantages.”
“Since no one seems willing to engage me, I’m left to play with myself.”
Shit. Why did I say it like that?
“Play with yourself?” Kieron’s jaw ticked to hold back a chuckle.
“I mean the dummy. Play with the dummy.” Kieron’s brow rose further.
He stepped closer, his body circling me as he surveyed my rubber opponent. “Reagan and the others aren’t allowed to train in combat with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“And why would you say that?” I snapped.
“You’re not ready.”
“And there goes that circular logic again. I’ll never be ready if I don’t practice with a real person, but you refuse to let me practice with real people so I can never be ready.”
“You truly believe you are ready?”
“Obviously.”
His eyes showed a tinge of mischief, making me nervous. A good kind of nervous.
With one hand, he shoved the dummy across the room, landing it in the far corner on its side. “Here’s your chance.
“Right now?” The secret part of me desperate to touch him would take anything. It was infuriating.
“As I’ve said.” He slipped off his suit jacket and undid the steel-colored gray tie about his neck, tossing them both onto the bench beside my gear.
I fake curtsied. “And what do I owe the honor, your majesty?”
He rolled up the sleeves of us dress shirt and smiled. “Consider it a boon.
“How kind of you.” I couldn’t wait to pummel his handsome face with my new strength. But I also couldn’t wait to get close to him again.
Stupid elhun.
He moved to the center of the mat and I followed his lead, standing opposite him. “Your destiny is to be a savior, Ms. Davenport, not a victim. Ready to prove yourself?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” I wanted to charge at him, but I kept my movements in check. He’d expect me to act without thinking. Months ago, I would have, but not anymore. Now, I’d learned to think first and calculate my attack. To look for his weak spot.
I launched myself forward, blade raised shoulder height, but I got too close. His smell was delicious, as his firm body grabbed my wrist and pulled me flush against his chest. He threw me to the ground and used his magic to force another blade from across the room into his arms. He held the dull edge to my throat.
“You don’t trust your instincts.” He released his hold and shoved me away. I landed on my butt several feet from him. “You were chosen for a reason. You showed it that the day of the masquerade. So, prove it.”
“And how am I supposed to do that? You have magic and you’re stronger than me.”
“Stop thinking in mortal standards. Your mind is what weakens you. Stop listening to it. Trust your instincts.”
He turned off the lights and the room fell black, as a thick, inky fog spilled into the room and concealed the daylight outside. It didn’t affect my breathing, but it made it impossible to even see an ant in front of me
And I didn’t need to see him to know he was there. I recognized his scent, the unique and intoxicating smell that followed him everywhere, the aroma of strength and protection. The warmth and electricity of his presence magnified the intoxication.
His strong hand encircled my waist and spun me until my back was flat against his chest. “Stop thinking. You’re angry. Channel that anger.”
Damn right I was angry. I was fucking furious. Not just at him—at everyone.
“Fine,” I said, through clenched teeth.
He freed my wrists and I shoved my elbow into his side, kicking my leg out at the same time. Both movements were meant as a distraction for what I had really intended to do. He slightly groaned and dipped his head toward me, just enough for me to slam the base of my palm into his throat.
He pulled back, coughing as his windpipe took my hit. “Pretty good,” he rubbed his hand over the flesh, then stood to his full height, “for a mortal girl.”
Bastard.
I raced toward him and seconds before he could reach me, I dropped down and slid between his legs. I could’ve sworn he smiled, but I didn’t have time to be sure as I leapt to my feet and raised my blade to strike his back.
Not nearly fast enough to catch him off guard, his long sword blocked my attack. “A little better, but still predictable, Ms. Davenport.
If he wanted to use emotional fuckery on me, I’d be happy to return the favor.
“Maybe you’re the one who’s predictable.” I dropped my weapon and leapt at him. When I landed on his chest, I rocked my body into his. The thin material of my clothes left little barrier between us. Sensual fire lit his eyes and I shuddered. I told myself it was from our fight—and absolutely not from my current proximity to Kieron’s perfect body.
He leaned in, as though he’d kiss me and then his hands tightened on my waist before he slammed me down to the floor.
“You’re weak and making no progress.” He wasn’t hurting me but kept annoying me over and over. “Maybe they did make a mistake.”
“I am not weak.” I flipped, and my knuckles connected with his jaw. I rolled backward and rose across the mat from him.
He stormed forward and grabbed my waist again before pinning me to the wall, his mouth close but out of reach, the scent of mint, spice, and smoke swirling around me.
I gritted my teeth trying, but not really trying, to break free. “Are you back now or planning on running off to hide again?”
“Why? You don’t enjoy it when I’m gone?”
“Hell, no. I love it. Things are a thousand times better.”
We both knew I lied, but in
stead of snapping back at me, he leaned in closer and my mind flashed back to that moment in his bedroom, the pressure of his perfect, mouthwatering body, against me. I could almost taste his mouth, the feel of his tongue over my flesh. I was on fire again, except desire fueled me now, not anger. His eyes fell to my lips and for only a brief moment, I thought he might kiss me.
My inner traitor begged for that kiss. Demanded that kiss. And the rational party of my mind had begun to agree. What harm could a little kiss do? Besides, I wanted to bite his lips and make him feel every ounce of my conflicted desires.
Punish him—or pleasure him? Maybe I could do both.
I licked my lips and my tongue grazed his mouth. A deep groan started in his chest and I pressed myself, only by a fraction, farther into him. He exhaled, his mouth almost on top of mine.
“Afraid you’ll kiss me and like it too much to stop?” I don’t know where the words came from, but I couldn’t stop them from spilling out. His eyes burned a hot-and-heavy obsidian and just when I thought he would give in, he dropped me and walked away.
Chapter Three
I needed a long, cold shower.
Cold enough to morph my fingertips into wrinkly, withered, pale raisins and freeze out the ever-burning desire that overheated me. Water rushed down my skin, but the fire remained. Every brush of my hands had me imagining his. Kieron’s long fingers, worn palms, and the fullness of his lower lip.
Abby, freaking stop.
Kieron’s touch had reignited every sensation I’d been trying to suppress since our last night together. Flashbacks to the way it felt to be in his arms. To see his desire solely directed on me. Being the object of his desire was incomparable to anything I’d ever experienced.
But he didn’t want me.
Where was an anonymous one-night stand when you needed it? I wasn’t a virgin, but I’d also never been too adventurous with my sex life. Now I regretted the ease of a random hookup at the local bar. I highly doubted anyone in this house could—or would—scratch this itch.
I’d also never thought I’d be desperate for the overwhelming, mind-filling stress of midterms and finals. Or the pain of a breakup. Or getting fired.
