by Laura Hall
Adam yelled, “Stop now or you’ll kill her!”
His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide and filled with a night sky. Millions of stars, flickering and streaking through unrelieved black.
“Pretty,” I whispered.
Reality shifted, bent, and swirled down the drain.
12
I opened my eyes on a windswept, rocky shoreline. There was a small islet of golden sand beneath my feet, a safe haven between the forbidding, storm-swept sea and jagged black rocks. In the distance, green hills gave way to towering, majestic mountains.
“I’m sorry, Fiona.”
His voice didn’t surprise me. Nothing about this surprised me.
I turned to face the Prime. He was soaking wet, his hair a tangled mess and blood still streaking his neck. His black blouse and slacks were plastered to him, highlighting contours of muscle and not leaving much to the imagination.
I looked quickly at his face. “Am I dying?”
“No, just recovering.” His eyes lost their solemnness, flaring with laughter. “I wasn’t apologizing for biting you, by the way.”
“Taste as good as I smell, do I?”
A corner of his mouth curled, pressing a dimple into one cheek. “Better, actually.”
I sighed. “Fantastic.”
He took a step toward me. “Your hair…” He stilled, frowning. “How many bolts did you throw?”
I swallowed. “It’s all white, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
I reached back, pulling my long ponytail into view. Bleached strands stuck together wetly. Sighing, I threw the hair over my shoulder.
“It’s like a nonstop roller coaster of fun with you.”
He made a low noise of mingled humor and pain. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”
“Oh, stop it,” I snapped. “Clearly I can protect myself.”
He smiled cheekily. “Clearly.”
I turned my head to gaze into the distance. The silence became weighted. I didn’t feel like talking about what had happened. Didn’t want to confront the Liberati’s threat regarding my father. Or admit that despite my near-certainty that he’d been lying, I’d chosen the Prime and Omega over my dad.
“He was lying, Fiona. There was no other choice to make.”
“Like I just thought, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you sense the alchemy this time?”
I started nodding, then froze and scowled at him. “I still don’t want to talk. At least let me process everything first.”
“I’m sorry.”
Heat snaked down my arms, pooling in my hands. I clenched my fingers. “Couldn’t you let me sleep? Did you have to drag me into your little dreamworld?”
Those damnable lips twitched. “Sorry?”
I shouted in wordless frustration and kicked the ground, sending a spray of sand against his legs. He merely laughed.
Giving in to the ultimate temptation, I loosed a small streak of lightning, zapping him in the stomach. He shuddered and bent in half. Guilt bloomed and worry had me running the space between us.
“Connor, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”
Then I heard the sound he was making. He’d bent in half laughing.
“Gah!” I shoved his shoulder as hard as I could, catching him off balance and sending him flying back onto the sand. Moving too fast for my eye to follow, he snagged my leg and I teetered, then collapsed on top of him with a screech.
I glared down at his grinning face. “Why is everything so goddamn funny to you?”
His mirth softened and he blinked. “There’s only so much grief a person can withstand. I reached my limit a long time ago. It was either choose humor, or choose the sun.”
A chill touched my neck. “You would have killed yourself?”
He nodded. Though his eyes stayed pale green, they reflected dark memories. “Yes. And now, with Ascension, that option has been taken from me. If you live to be as old as I am, perhaps you’ll understand.”
“You almost died tonight,” I objected.
“No, I didn’t. Every last drop of blood could be drained from me and I would still live, a comatose and withered husk. Unless someone took my head, that is.”
I glanced down at his chest. “What about a stake through the heart?”
“That only kills young ones.”
I looked back into his eyes, then trailed my gaze down his imperfect nose, over his mouth and the shadow of facial hair on his jaw. They were all merely pieces of the whole, minutiae of one of the most complex, formidable men on the planet. A being old enough to have experienced a measure of sorrow miles beyond the norm.
I imagined losing Michael, over and over again, and touched upon a small fraction of what the Prime was talking about. If I’d had to watch my loved ones grow old and die ad nauseam, I could easily envision locking my heart behind walls of indifference.
Hell, it’d been locked for fourteen years. What was another thousand?
“Do you even care?” I asked, my voice raw. “About finding my dad? About anything?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I care.”
The curtain of impassivity dropped from his eyes and my brain finally caught up with the implication of our positions. My breasts were pressed against his chest, his hands lightly gripping my hips. My heart pulsed hard—once, twice—and flooded me with sensation.
Heat. Want.
Electricity erupted from my skin. Connor groaned, but not in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped and shoved off his chest, scrambling backward so fast I tripped and fell on my ass. My breath expelled in a rush, pain zigging up my spine.
I sensed movement and looked up at Connor—no, the Prime—standing with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, an indecipherable expression on his face.
“Time to wake up, Fiona.”
“Fiona, time to wake up.”
Fingers stroked my forehead, imparting a pulsing warmth. I cracked open my eyes to see Declan leaning over me. He smiled, pale eyes sparkling.
“Hey,” I said weakly.
He disappeared and appeared again with a glass of water. Lifting my shoulders with one arm, he held the rim to my lips. Cool water cleansed my tongue and throat.
I swallowed reflexively until the glass was empty. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, depositing the glass on the side table. “How do you feel?”
I glanced past him, seeing a stormy sky outside the windows of my room in the compound. “Like I was bulldozed then set on fire.” I paused. “My hair? Did I dream…?”
“It was no dream,” he said gently. “It’s white. Kinda sexy, actually. Really shiny and soft.”
His teasing brought more memory back, of the Prime and a beach. Has it been real? In turn, I was forced to acknowledge there was only one way Declan could be touching me with impunity.
I lifted my arms and stared at the new, thicker bracelets on my wrists.
“Dammit.”
“It was for everyone’s protection,” said Declan softly. “You were unconscious and throwing sparks whenever anyone came near you. You killed the engines of five cars on the way back to the compound.”
I winced. “I’m surprised they even started.”
“It took some experimenting, but Connor finally figured out if he held you and absorbed your surges, it spared the engine.”
“Absorbed my—God, is he okay?”
He grinned. “Fine. Adam was the most freaked out by it, but he finally decided you can’t hurt Connor because he’s so damned old and basically dead. His heart beats once every five minutes or something crazy like that. The worst you did was increase his heart rate to once a minute.”
I didn’t feel an inkling of Declan’s humor. “And the bracelets? Didn’t I prove myself to Adam last night?”
His smile fell. “Connor was the one who ordered Adam to replace them. He said that you’d want them.” He frowned worriedly. “Was that not true?”
I
had no idea how to answer his question. Or what I was feeling.
Confused was an understatement.
The Prime and our disturbing moment of intimacy aside, I suddenly missed my old life with a vengeance. I missed my tiny apartment. My boring job and my own shampoo.
And I missed my dad, with a depth that felt like a knife in my heart. I missed his gruff voice and the way he chewed his mustache when he was thinking. I wanted to hear his laughter, gravelly and deep, and listen to him yell at the television during his favorite sports games. I just missed him.
Grief was bright and dark, a polarized force that swayed me between hope and despair. Was he dead already? Had it been his blood catalyzing that unnatural crystal sphere?
I knew it was foolish, but I also couldn’t help wondering if I should have gone with those men. If I could have freed my dad and brought him home.
I almost asked Declan where Uncle Mal was and if I could see him. But the twisting hurt I felt was too raw. He’d known the Prime would come for me. All those years he’d supposedly been protecting me, he’d actually been protecting an asset for someone else. If my safety had been of primary concern, he would’ve convinced my father to move us to the middle of nowhere. Change our names. Hide.
I refused to believe my dad had known.
Absolutely refused.
There was a knock on the door and Declan rose, but instead of veering to the entrance he walked to a second door, set between the fireplace and the bank of windows. A door I’d avoided thinking about until this moment. It opened as he turned a thick, pewter key already resting in the lock beneath an embellished handle.
Soft words were exchanged between Alpha and Prime.
“She’s fine,” murmured Declan. “Beat up emotionally.” A pause. “We’ve really done a number on her.”
“I know. Nothing has gone as expected.”
“Can you give it a few days before taking her back to Snoqualmie?”
“We’re not going back. Adam checked the area twice. Whatever alchemy the Liberati performed when they vanished, it wiped their tracks as well.”
“Damn, they’re like ghosts. Anything from Matthew, or word on Frank’s secretary?”
“The bears saw and heard nothing, and local police in Phoenix are checking out the sister.”
Declan sighed. “What now?”
“Charles and Eve have the blood sample we salvaged from the car. It will take a few days for results, but given the trap the Liberati set, the blood could have come from anyone. For now we wait, and in the meantime, Fiona will train.”
I lifted onto my elbows and looked across the room. “Train?”
The Prime’s gaze scanned my face before settling on my eyes. His own were devoid of their usual wryness. Everything about him seemed blank.
“You’ve demonstrated an instinctive talent for releasing lightning, but Adam mentioned you missed your targets twice. We’ve secured a location where you can explore your range and hone your skills.”
Missed your targets.
The words rang dully in my ears, triggering recollection of one target I hadn’t missed.
I blinked hard when the Prime’s face blurred. “I killed a man, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “In self-defense, yes.”
“Was it?” I asked softly, searching his eyes for any hint of feeling. Compassion or humor, irony or sorrow. Anything at all to confirm that the man on the beach was real. That it hadn’t been a dream. I had no idea what I would do with the information, but I wanted to know.
His eyes remained void of emotion—flat, spring green. Which, consequently, was all the answer I needed. It had been real. And he regretted it. He’d likely been drunk on my blood, which apparently ramped up a vamp’s… other needs. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
“It was self-defense,” he said finally. Breaking eye contact, he looked at Declan. “Bring her to the east wing in two hours.”
He vanished and Declan closed the door.
“Lock it,” I said.
He did.
13
My appearance in the main hall of the compound yielded different results this time around. People still stared, still whispered. But they also nodded. Some of the mages even bowed.
“What’s the party line?” I hissed at Declan as we veered down a hallway.
He glanced at me, brows lifted. “You saved the lives of the Prime and Omega. That’s a pretty big deal.”
I gaped. “Adam was holding his own. They would have been fine.”
“I call Denial,” he quipped. “Even if Adam had run the Liberati off and found someone to feed Connor, what you did was impressive as hell. Lightning, Fiona. There’s no record of anyone like you existing, before or after Ascension. There’s talk in the compound and beyond. Word about you is getting out.”
“What? What word?” I asked shrilly.
Panic softened the edges of my vision and I paused, leaning on a nearby wall for support. Thankfully, we were alone in a spacious hallway, with no one to witness my meltdown.
“Hey,” he said, framing my face with his hands. “It’s good word.” His thumbs grazed my cheekbones. “Even the vamps are impressed, and they’re assholes.”
It worked. I cracked a smile.
Declan grinned and dropped a quick, hot kiss on my forehead. While I blinked dumbly, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into motion.
“What was that for?” I asked at length.
His bright gaze slanted to me. “Shifters are highly physical. We like to touch a lot. And you, Fiona Sullivan, are starved for touch.”
“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”
He grinned. “Just accept it for the truth. I like touching you, and as long as those bracelets are on, I’m going to keep touching you. Don’t worry, I have the utmost respect for your boundaries.”
Mind reeling, I barely noticed as we drew to a halt beside a thick, iron bracketed door. Finally, I looked down at our entwined hands. Seeing. Feeling. His palm was lightly calloused, warm and encompassing. I squeezed his fingers and he squeezed back, imparting a pervasive warmth.
Declan was right. I was starved for touch. Simple, uncomplicated affection from someone other than my uncle. My dad had never been the warm and fuzzy type, but even he had been restricted from touching me since Ascension.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Come here,” he murmured and drew me forward.
His arms enfolded me, tight and solid, one palm cupping the back of my head. The steady beat of his heart sounded beneath my ear. Tension melted from my body and I drew a deep breath, pulling his scent into my greedy lungs. He smelled like the wild, like fresh air and shadowed woods.
There was no expectation in the touch, just affection freely given. It was a revelation.
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” said a saccharine voice.
Declan gave me a final squeeze before releasing me, and we both looked at Samantha, watching us from the open doorway. Behind her, some fifteen feet away in a massive, white-walled room, standing on what looked like a gymnastics mat, was the Prime.
My face burned with embarrassment. It was completely misplaced—I had nothing to be ashamed of—but I couldn’t repress it any more than I could manifest a stake punching through Samantha’s heart. Or every frosted blond hair falling from her head. Or a lit pyre beneath her stilettoed feet.
“It’s really too bad you can’t dye that,” she said, smirking at my hair.
The Prime growled, “Samantha.”
She bowed her head and moved past us, but quipped over her shoulder, “You could always try a wig.”
I watched her sashay away, the sway of her hips so contrived that amusement washed away my anger.
“She’s a real piece of work,” muttered Declan.
Connor sighed. “Fiona, come inside, please.”
I smiled weakly at Declan; he tugged my ponytail. “See you later. Have fun.”
As soon as I entered the training roo
m, the door clicked closed. I gazed around the expansive, windowless space, completely empty but for the mat in the center of the floor. Sparkling along the walls and ceiling was dense white magic.
“Adam assured me the ward would keep your lightning inside,” said the Prime.
“I don’t doubt it,” I replied, finally looking at him. “Why is your girlfriend such a bitch?”
His eyelids flickered. “She feels threatened by you.”
I blinked, taken aback by his candor. “Because I’m staying in the Consort’s suite?” He nodded. “I’m surprised you’re not dating someone with a little more backbone.”
Amusement flared in his eyes. “Has it occurred to you I might not appreciate being challenged by a lover?”
“No, actually,” I said, then snapped my mouth shut.
His expression went blank. “Let’s begin. Remove the bracelets.”
I looked at my wrists and back at him. “What? How?”
“There are release catches located on each.”
I launched into action, finding and pressing small, etched runes at the base of each bracelet. They parted with a soft pop and fell to the ground. Electricity surged through me, bending my spine and tearing a moan from my throat.
I was whole.
There’d be time later to examine the double-edged blade currently swinging. One side: Declan’s warm touch and a part of me missing. And the other: feeling complete, but cut off from physical affection.
Well, from everyone save the Western Prime.
While I stood basking in my current, the Prime crossed the space between us and took position behind me.
“Hit the targets, please.”
I descended from my musings to see his index finger outstretched toward the opposite wall. Three large bull’s-eyes were painted on the white surface, spaced several feet apart, with four rings around each central point.
I ignored them for the moment, turning to stare at him. He sighed, lowering his arm. “Yes?”
“Did absorbing my charges really not hurt you, or were you pretending for Adam’s sake?”
