Exposed Memories

by Sienna Aylen

  Footsteps muffled by the moist dirt that flanked a cascading stream, Emma crept up the incline one step at a time. At the summit, she glided gracefully into a crouch. Sliding down until she was nearly one with the vegetation, she army-crawled forward. Inch by inch, she slithered through the weeds and bushes and, finding a small indentation in the grass, she stopped. With one hand, she reached out and parted the branches of the bush in front of her. Peering through the opening, she could see the cliff.

  It was empty.

  Shit. She had gotten there too late.

  For all she knew, he could be back down in the valley by now. He would have to get back before his presence was missed in order to cement his alibi. A face among many others, he had to blend into a crowd. His public persona was so flawless she didn’t have any solid leads on who he was.

  But she knew he was male and relatively young. Seriously? Fireworks as makeshift bombs? Only the arrogance of youth would have the gall to come up with that one.

  Still cautious with her movements, she crept forward to the edge of the brush. Her gaze swept the open area with a keen eye from where she sat concealed but there was nothing there. Not even a used match littered the ground. Nothing to track him with. Nothing for her to read.

  She hadn’t expected for there to be any evidence. Since he was a part of the Clan he likely knew what she could do and if so, would double his efforts to make sure she didn’t find out his identity. But she had hoped he would make a mistake.

  One mistake. That was all she needed to catch this guy.

  Just one, was that too much to ask for?

  Making one more sweep of the area, her gaze caught on a shapeless object that seemed to be out of place on the serene overlook. The darkness made it impossible to identify the object without getting closer. It could be a simple rock or telltale evidence—and she was hoping for the latter. Looking both left and right, she inched her way out onto the open ground, careful not to make any noise.

  Halfway there, she realized it was just a rock. Emma stilled when a thunderous roar pierced the night air.

  He was still on the mountain.

  Standing up, she abandoned the cliff, masking her scent as she left. Grabbing a low-hanging branch with one hand, she swung herself up and onto the precarious limb. Using the natural grooves in the tree, she climbed her way up to a higher branch and stopped, her body melting into the crevice where the branch met the trunk.

  Slowing her breathing to a crawl, she made every muscle relax one by one. The only movement was that of her eyes scanning the surrounding darkness. Far off to the right she heard the unmistakable soft thud of paws smacking the dirt. A snorted huff.

  The inexplicable smell of wet dog assaulted her nose. Turning and crouching down onto the branch, she crawled out onto the sturdy limb until she was wrapped around the bark like a snake, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. A silent predator in the night, she was as still as the shadows of the forest.

  The huffs were louder now. Closer. Emma’s eyes struggled to pierce the dark veil surrounding her without the moon to offer a glimmer of light. Instead of relying on her sight, she expanded her hearing. Became one with the nature surrounding her.

  Breathing out slowly, she felt for the balance, the ebb and flow of life around her. Minutes ticked by. The rustle of fur against the brush gave him away, echoing through the flow back to Emma, pinpointing his location. Just a few more feet and she would have him.

  Each second felt like an eternity but she was patient. Breath steady and quiet, she waited and listened.

  An abrupt growling snort sounded right underneath her branch. Shifting her weight silently, Emma rolled off the branch and fell through the air. With a twist at the last second, Emma landed right between his shoulder blades and, palming the blade she carried, she slammed it into the muscles of his shoulder. Tightening her thighs, she gripped his fur with surprising strength as he reared up with a bellowing roar, trying to buck off the unexpected attacker.

  With one hand, she yanked the knife out of his flesh with a sickening slurp. The other she used to yank his ear back and around, making him stumble.

  Snarling, he turned and slammed his side into the nearest tree trunk, raking her bare leg against the harsh, unforgiving bark. Twisting for maximum effect, he grunted when she gasped, sucking in air through her teeth at the burn radiating down her leg. Warmth slipped from her leg into the thick pelt of fur on his side.

  Using the leverage from the tree, he used his body weight to buck up once more and drag her entire back against the sturdy trunk. Emma bit back a curse. Her leg was on fire, the long scrapes in her flesh seeping warm blood down her calf. Her entire backside was numb from where it had made contact with the tree. She could feel where her shirt had torn and caught itself on a protruding twig.

  Looking up, she spotted a branch that could hold her weight. With a burst of telekinesis, she was lifted high enough that she caught the limb with one arm and swung herself away from the enraged bear.

  After flying through the air, she landed several feet away in a crouch and waved one hand to send a stream of dirt and debris into his eyes and snout. She blinded the bear momentarily before his paw reached up to wipe the dirt from his streaming eyes.

  He had attacked her people.

  Tried to murder innocent children.

  He was a traitor, guilty of crimes against the balance.

  With a scream of pure rage, Emma ran at the grizzly with all her might. Branches and twigs tore at her clothing as she rushed past. She punched him in the already streaming eye then jumped up and over him with a surge of renewed strength.

  Using the moment of his distraction, she concentrated on the structure of his back. Reaching deep under the fur she found the muscles surrounding his spine. Slicing downward with the knife at same time, she called upon the powerful well of telekinesis inside her until it ran through her fingers like electricity. The lesions in her mind expanded and burned with the use of power.

  Concentration on her task, she let out a scream of agony when he spun around and sharp fangs penetrated the muscle of her right shoulder. Strong jaws clamped down, tearing through flesh and muscle, fracturing bone. Blood gushed from her shoulder, weakening her.

  She would not fail.

  Her torn arm useless, the knife dangled from her fingertips before falling to the ground. Summoning up every ounce of her mental strength, Emma sent a wave of telekinesis through his spine in a flurry of sparks and color, dislocating multiple tendons and fracturing bones. A satisfying crunch and growl of pure agony assaulted her ears, his teeth exiting the flesh of her shoulder and ripping another gasp from her parched mouth.

  With a rush, her head exploded in agony, the lesions in her mind tearing open with a fury. Blood poured out in a rush—her nose, her ears, arm and leg all coated with the sticky life source.

  Weak as a newborn, Emma fell to her knees with a dull thud. When her body started to shake uncontrollably, she knew she was going into shock. Turning her head slightly, she watched through glazed eyes as her attacker stumbled and half dragged himself through the forest, one leg trailing behind him in the mud.

  The furry bastard would be lucky if he was ever able to walk again.

  She fell as the familiar darkness of oblivion swirled around her and beckoned with open arms.

  * * * *

  Damien knew something was terribly wrong when he heard the echo of the bellowing roar trail down the mountain. He bolted toward the trees, stripping off his shirt as he went. As soon as he was nude, he let the transformation take him, unleashing his bear.

  Lightning and fire. Thunderstorms and ice. The change rippled over his body in a mixture of agony and bliss. Limbs and flesh contorted to accommodate his expanding bones and frame. With a flash, he wasn’t staring down from his extraordinary height anymore but blinking through the eyes of the predator.

  Twelve hundred pounds of pissed-off bear stood in his place. The human side of Damien faded into the background as the
bear’s instincts kicked in to find his mate. They took off at a grueling pace, racing up the path to where they had heard the scream. With each footfall, he chanted a prayer in his head. Stay alive, Emma. Stay alive. Don’t give up, baby.

  Reaching the peak of the cliff, he inhaled deeply to find her scent. Vanilla, honey and the sickening odor of blood reached his nostrils. Throwing back his head, Damien let out a primal roar of anger and misery, calling the Clan to his aid. Hearing the echo of returned bellows, Damien hurried through the brush. Nudging aside the curtain of greenery, he came to a shocked stop when he saw her.

  Flame-colored hair spilled out in a fan around her head. Dirt and debris were coating her arms and legs and smudging the pale perfection that was her face. Blood was everywhere. No one could survive losing that amount of blood.

  Torn and tattered clothes clung to her slight frame by mere threads. Her shoulder was a complete mess with chunks of flesh missing. The white line of bone peeked through the raw gaping edges of what was left of her shoulder.

  She was unconscious. A broken doll lying in the dirt.

  His heart stuttered within his chest. Emma.

  * * * *

  Bleu measured his steps. The path he had chosen was one that could drop even an experienced hiker on their ass without a second thought. The incline was a bit steep but the real danger lay in the cracks and crevices that littered the ground. Most were covered or filled with dirt and vegetation, but if he weren’t careful, he could break an ankle in one of them.

  So far, he hadn’t seen or heard anything on the path that he had taken, the one opposite to his brother. Hopefully Damien was having better luck finding Emma. A twig snapped to his left, grabbing his undivided attention. The trees were thick on this side of the cliff, the canopy an interwoven mass of leaves that kept out any light.

  Letting his bear sight come to the forefront, Bleu made his way through the maze of trees and stopped at the top of an incline. At the bottom of the miniscule canyon were three people. Two young boys, perhaps six or seven years old. They had streaks of dirt covering their faces and both were silent at the older girl’s hand signal. It was of vital importance that he didn’t spook them.

  The girl sat on the damp ground, one hand cradling her ankle protectively. She looked around her slowly, not making a single sound as she scanned the surrounding forest. Perceptive. She knew he was there, though she couldn’t pinpoint his location.

  Not wanting to startle the three of them, Bleu stepped out of the darkness and into the small ravine, placing both hands up in front of him in a gesture of reassurance as he dropped his voice low. “I’m not here to hurt you. My name’s Bleu. Are the three of you all right?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  #xa0;

  Oblivion. A swirling vortex where pain and sorrow didn’t exist. A vast nothingness. Empty except for the ever-silent figures of the past. Faces she recognized, but names unknown. Hundreds if not thousands of blank, murky stares met her gaze. Cloaked in gray, they were as vaporous as the mist that surrounded them. Shadows of the past.

  Her mother, father, even Morighan was there. So were the hundreds of lives she had taken. Executed for their crimes against humanity, they were not deaths she regretted. Their forced passing had saved thousands of lives, if not more.

  The previous Council stared back at her through the thickening mist. Menora was the only figure that moved. Raising one faint hand, she placed it on Emma’s shoulder and gave a vicious squeeze.

  It burned like the fiery pits of hell.

  Gasping, Emma cracked her heavy eyelids open to escape the vision. Spikes stabbed through her skull at the effort. Rough hands put pressure on her wounds, sending shards of pain radiating through her body. She would swat those torturous hands away if she could only lift her arm, but it wasn’t working—she couldn’t get it to move no matter how much she willed it to.

  Of course, the stupid appendage wouldn’t work right when she needed it to. Typical.

  Blinking to try to clear the cobwebs from her vision, Emma turned her head and met golden eyes. Worried eyes…she knew those eyes.

  Those eyes belonged to someone she cared about. Her Fated.

  Damien.

  Feeling for the muscles in her back, Emma tried to lift her body in an attempt to sit up so she could brush back the frown line that creased right between his eyebrows. Pressure on her stomach kept her weak body flat on the ground.

  His lips moved but she had a hard time understanding them. A lethargic heaviness invaded every part of her body, brain included. The ragged edges of the lesions were ripping farther, causing black spots to enter her vision.

  Right before she passed out, she heard his voice fade.

  “Fight, Emma. Stay with me, baby. Help is on the way.”

  Damien’s tortured roar filled the night air as her eyes closed and she passed out. Movements slow and gentle, he turned Emma, keeping pressure on her wounds. Crimson liquid covered his hands, coating them with the cooling blood she couldn’t afford to lose. Pressing harder, Damien tried to stem the oozing essence that was leaking from her shoulder. The red trails that streamed down her face scared him even more than the gaping wound.

  Lesions.

  A red haze filled his vision. The bastard was dead. Oh, he didn’t know it yet but he was dead. Damien would see to it himself. Old, young, it didn’t matter. Whoever had done this had crossed a line into unforgivable territory and would pay for it with their life.

  Whispered prayers fell from his lips, a plea to save her life. For her to hold on until help arrived. To keep her alive. Stay with me, baby, I can’t lose you now. I just found you. A brief sense of relief came over him when he heard the answering calls echo through the forest. His Clan were coming, help was on its way.

  After removing her shirt, Damien wadded up what was left of the torn fabric and pressed it into her wound, wincing at the ghastly squishing sound it made. At least she was unconscious. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it if she’d had to feel what had to be the agonizing pain of pressure on the deep gashes.

  The seconds that passed felt like hours, with his eyes glued to where her chest rose and fell softly underneath her bloodied bra. His bear paced back and forth restlessly in his mind, fighting the killing haze that demanded he avenge his mate. The only thing keeping the need at bay was the stronger instinct to save and protect her.

  Emma. She had to live. She would live. He wouldn’t let her go. She had promised to stay with him and he was going to hold her to it. Minutes went by as he counted her breaths. At last, he could hear the rushed footfalls of his Clan coming up the steep incline. His voice broke when he called out, “Over here.”

  Dimitri, Ray, Phil, Presley, Aaron and Jeff appeared over the ridge. They carried a fabric gurney with them, as well as one of their well-stocked first-aid kits. Ray set the gurney on the ground on the opposite side of Damien while Ray and Phil rummaged through the first-aid kit.

  “Status, Damien. Where’s she hurt?”

  The voice was far off in Damien’s mind. All he could focus on was the rising and falling of Emma’s chest. The shallow breaths were the only thing keeping him calm. Proof that, for the moment, she was still alive. Suddenly a barking voice penetrated the fog.

  “Snap out of it, Alpha. If you don’t help me, we won’t save her in time. What are her injuries?”

  Racking his brain, Damien recited almost tonelessly, “Scrapes on her leg, shallow but bleeding. Her shoulder is the worst of it. The bastard fucking bit her, ripped her shoulder to shreds. The gashes go all the way down to the bone but the bleeding needs to be stopped first. She’s having brain bleeds too. We need to get her back to the house. The temperature’s dropping quickly.”

  Damien watched in a daze as Ray used his teeth to open a couple packages of pressure bandages, gauze and tape. After instructing Damien to lift Emma slightly off the ground, Ray positioned one of the large pieces of gauze and a pressure bandage on the back of her shoulder. “Damien, I need you t
o move your hands and the shirt. As soon as I put the bandage on, we need to get her onto the gurney and back down the mountain.”

  Damien snapped back into the present and moved his hands as well as the remnants of her shirt. She had gone after the perpetrator by herself, putting herself in the line of fire to save the rest of the Clan. He would give his own life if it would save hers, as would many other members of the Clan.

  Adjusting the pressure bandage, Ray motioned for the others to surround Emma’s body. As one they lifted her limp, broken frame onto the gurney. Aaron and Presley took the front, guiding them down the easiest path. Ray, Phil, Jeff and Dimitri held on to the sides of the gurney, steadying it enough that they wouldn’t jostle her any more than was necessary.

  Damien took up the rear, next to Emma’s head, still watching her chest and counting the moments it took their party to get down the mountain. The trip down the steep slope was treacherous and their progress had to slow at a few places where the ground was too steep for them to take more than a step at a time. Damien let out the breath he had been holding when they finally made it to the smoother terrain of the valley. Just another quarter-mile and they would be back at the house.

  Glancing back down at Emma’s pale form, Damien couldn’t discern any movement in her chest at all. It was utterly still. Shouting at the others to put her down on the ground, he then knelt beside her and felt underneath her nose for breath, but found none.

  She was lifeless.

  Brutal seconds passed as Damien put his hands to her chest and started CPR. Two rescue breaths and thirty-second intervals of chest compressions. Time seemed to still, his only thought on saving his mate. Emma. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked, the salty drops splashing onto Emma’s motionless chest.

  Two more breaths and a tortured snarl ripped from Damien’s throat. Seconds ticked by as he continued CPR until, on the next breath, Damien felt a small puff of air against his cheek. A delicate cough. Then another breath. Faint but there. The weak, stuttering beat of her heart returning was a miracle. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered into the night, “I love you, Emma. Stay with me, baby.”