He grips my arm just above my elbow as if he’s going to try and pull them off him, a contrast to the low groan that’s escaping him. I seal my lips against his, controlling the kiss for all of half a second before he gives up on my arms and grips my hair instead.
Tugging my head back to break the kiss, he asks, “Do I smell like danger?”
“No.”
“You were trying to run.”
“You were angry,” I counter.
“I still am.”
A smile creeps across my lips as I realize what this means.
“I like this kind of angry,” I admit.
He lets go of my hair and leans forward to rest his forehead against mine, his hands moving under my ass to support me. The two of us are rising and falling with each heavy breath he takes.
His eyes close as he speaks. “I bit you.”
“I think I want you to do it again,” I counter, letting my eyelids close too.
Falling into my other senses, like the feel of his breath whispering over my skin and the power still prickling inside me.
“You can’t keep secrets,” he says softly.
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“You can’t let me do this.”
There’s a touch of pain to his voice, which sparks a vein of fury inside me. I snap my eyes open, grasping desperately at all those lovely things I was experiencing just a moment ago, but still feeling them slip away. Anger fills the space.
And maybe disappointment.
I let go of his hair and try to push myself away from him – being this mad is most effective when stomping and finger-pointing. But he holds me tighter, carries me to the nearest crate, sits me down on it, and then turns to walk away.
Bralls no. He’s not having the last word on this. He’s not chuckin’ leaving without me getting to say all the shit I want to say!
I spring to my feet and throw myself at his back. It takes him by surprise enough to make him stagger. Somehow, between floundering in mid-air and hitting the soft ochre floor, he manages to twist and get on top of me. Straddling me with his full weight on my hips and his hands pinning down both my arms.
Both of them.
I groan through the pain, trying to ignore it, trying to keep my eyes on his because this argument is bigger than a broken arm which, if I could stop agitating it, should be healed in weeks. This argument could change the course of my mortal life. A short life compared to Pax’s, so I don’t have a whole lot of time to prance around things.
As soon as the sound leaves my lips, he takes the pressure off my break, gently bringing my arm up to rest across my chest. Half my torn shirt has settled into some kind of modesty, but the other half is wide open and his gaze is momentarily lost on my bare breast.
Power still crackles around him. Not that I can see it, but I can definitely feel it, and when I inhale, I swear I can breathe it in, mixed with the cave’s cool air.
“I want you,” he says. “But if I go too far, you –”
I cut him off, “Will die. You’ve said that a million times. Maybe I won’t – have you considered that? My mother was a mortal, and she survived loving a Silvari.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
True, the Allure-induced memory of my birth was vague and short on details, but I’m getting really good at using vague to my advantage.
“I’ve seen what my power does to you,” he says. “If there is any Saber in you, it’s buried way down under the mortal part.”
He lifts his weight off my other arm and trails a finger down the smooth underside of my wrist. For all the taped-up cuts Killian has left me with, there are none on the underside of my arm and his finger moves slow and unobstructed.
My fingers jerk involuntarily – a lingering effect of his power. He has almost knocked me out with that power before, left me with whole limbs shaking so badly I couldn’t get my own clothes on, so a few finger movements doesn’t even worry me.
“Roarke was right. You don’t absorb my power. It’s like a poison to you.”
“I’m going to kill Roarke.” My fist clenches at the idea.
Pax smiles at me, gentle and amused. He leans in and presses his lips to mine for the barest hint of a kiss.
“I am going to wait outside, and you are going to get dressed – because I really want to bite you again right now.”
He’s up and off me before I can try to convince him that biting me again is a really good idea.
A really, really, good idea.
The exasperated groan that escapes me as I roll onto my stomach and stare after Pax is unavoidable.
Yes – his power has left me feeling weak and my muscles spasming, yet I’m failing to see why that’s a problem. Nope – that doesn’t make any sense.
I pull myself up, dusting ochre off my breasts and taking stock of my torn tunic. The buttons are a lost cause, and the sleeves are gone, the latter being Killian’s doing, I’m sure.
“I don’t have any more clothes,” I groan.
I had three sets. The one I wore as we fled the castle, the one Seth poured gravy down, and this one.
“Wear some of mine,” he says, not turning back.
And we’re back to this again.
Roarke stumbles out of the cave, struggling on his right leg. Blocking a sword with your leg is a shit strategy. I stitched it. It will heal.
He limps down the side of the cliff, and both Seth and I watch him intently. Him, then the cave entrance, then him.
No one else comes out.
Pax was mad as bralls. A fear has awakened inside him – dark and gnawing.
Prisoners from Tanakan released and hunting us. Which means they’re hunting Shade. Two still out there. Sromma and Daryan. Daryan is Xylon’s brother and Sromma will inform him of his brother’s death. When things get personal, they always get messy.
There used to be three layers to the law. Try to bend it, and the local enforcement, Sabers stationed permanently in each major town, would apply a punishment they saw fit. Crack it, and you spent time in Tanakan. Break it, and someone would hunt you down and make sure you never did it again. We spent more time dealing with magic and monsters than Silvari – and the younger triunes would cut their teeth on chasing bandits after their trials.
But Tanakan was locked down a hundred years ago. What used to be clear and structured is now a maze of reports to a dwindling council, Lithael’s whims, and the power of the local enforcement.
The only thing left in Tanakan was the worst of the worst and the ‘last-of’s. When you’re the last Seed of your kind, no orders can be officially made for your death.
Lithael can push us, try to make us vulnerable in tournament, send us on the ridiculous assignments, strip us of our ranks as punishment – but he cannot have a hand at killing us.
How many of those Seeds are out? Destroying our realm. Harming our people.
Seeking my Shadow.
And that fear inside Pax is like a knife to the thin threads of control that he’s managed to string together since Jessamy.
“What’s going on in there?” Seth demands before Roarke has made it across the open grass to the shade of the trees.
Roarke turns, watching the cliff for a moment.
“Give them a minute,” he says, then joins us.
He rests back against a tree, taking his weight on his good leg and sighing in relief.
“If I sit down, I think I’m going to need help getting up,” he says.
“Then don’t sit,” I tell him.
“I’ll help you,” Seth counters, and Roarke lowers himself to the ground.
Two minutes pass.
“They’ve been in there too long,” Seth says, popping to his feet.
Power ebbs through the air, brushing against me a moment before the other two realize it’s there. Seth offers Roarke a hand and has the guy on his feet with one tug.
“Leave them,” I order, standing much slower. “Maybe it will put fear where fear needs to be.”
“Or maybe he kills her,” Seth counters.
Both of them settle their gazes on me.
“You can sense it better than we can. Get over there and tell us what’s happening,” Roarke orders and points.
“No,” I grunt, because I have no intention of playing this game, and I have even less desire to feel what’s going on in that cave.
“Yes,” Seth says, drawing his sword.
I look at it and smile, wanting the challenge.
“Because,” he starts, pointing the tip of his blade toward the cliff. “If he kills her, none of us are going to be able to control our reactions.”
The truth ripples through me. One of us ending Shade’s life will kill us all.
For a stupid guy, he’s said the one thing that makes me move. Because he’s right.
My own fear is pushed aside as I move closer, their emotions ebbing over mine. I stop at the base of the cliff.
“And?” Seth asks.
I turn to face them. They’ve stayed over there, under the shade.
Cowards.
“What’s going on?” Seth pushes.
The things I feel don’t always have names. Life isn’t as simple as happy or sad. I take a second to sift through the information.
“They’re kissing,” I say, careful to keep my volume down.
They’re not far enough away to make me shout, and Pax doesn’t need to overhear.
“And?” Seth pushes. That guy is really pissing me off.
“More kissing!” I growl back.
They look worried, sizing me up. Seth still has his sword drawn. Pax might be trusting us, but I’m not sure all of us are trusting him.
I growl, giving in to the feelings and forcing the descriptions. “He’s in control, and she’s enjoying it.”
“I know that much – and that’s part of the problem,” Roarke mutters.
“They’ve stopped,” I say.
The guys sigh.
“They’re arguing again.”
The guys bristle.
This is fun.
“She’s pinned him down – and he likes it.”
Anger flashes in their eyes.
“He’s letting her have control.”
Seth tilts his head like he’s trying to picture how exactly that would unfold.
“He’s trying to escape, and she’s trying to stop him.”
Their brows raise, and a small wave of confusion pulses from them. I have to concentrate to keep the smile from my face and my attention on the emotions coming from behind me, not the ones I’m orchestrating in front of me.
“He’s trapped her again,” I say.
Seth steps forward, fury and desire warring inside him. He’s struggling.
So I continue, “He’s tearing off her clothes.”
Roarke draws his sword.
“She has his pants off,” I say.
Seth lets out a growl, fist clenching on his hilt as he moves closer.
“They’re fully naked and all over each other.”
My attention is so thoroughly on Roarke and Seth, and the slip of a cold shadow down my spine and away across the grass, that I miss the first signs that Pax is finished playing with Shade. I only sense that he’s approaching a split second before he emerges.
I run my fingers through my hair, mustering an ‘act casual’ walk, and starting to whistle.
Seth’s eyes go wide and flash past me to the mouth of the cave. In a rush, he turns to Roarke, raises his weapon, and spins it in an arc past his shoulder a few times. Roarke mirrors the action.
“You shouldn’t be sparring,” Pax declares, standing sentry outside the cave entrance. “You’re still injured.”
“We were just stretching out,” Roarke says.
He’s a really bad liar. He thinks his Allure covers for good execution, but his powers don’t work on us.
52.5 miles from Potion Master Eydis
I kick Pax’s bag a few times before bending down and struggling to pull a shirt out of it. The first one I grab is black with buttons down the front and leather from wrist to elbow. I pause before putting it on, tracing over the tender skin where Pax’s teeth had pierced right through my flesh – and it had felt so good.
The feel of them makes me shiver with a kind of excitement, even though they hurt.
I’m losing my mind, I decide.
Which is a problem – I’ve only got one.
I slip into the shirt, adjusting the four silver buckles on the leather sections until they fit comfortably. My pants are okay, just a few drops of blood below the knees. I can’t quite imagine how blood got there. Possibly flung from my arm or fingers as I tried to run, dive, and fight.
Tried, and failed.
The knife, in an unassuming brown sheath, is lying on the edge of the rough bed. I pick it up, pull it from the sheath, and imprint its details into my memory. Killian is right. Not being able to fight has already gotten me into all kinds of trouble – and pain. I’m pretty sure being able to fight will be an advantage.
And I’m pretty sure gaining any skills in anything with Killian involved is going to chuckin’ hurt.
Why do I like these people?
Pax thinks I’m a chew toy.
Killian thinks I’m useless.
Seth considers me entertainment.
And Roarke… he just wants to be himself even though he can’t because I’m here.
And then there’s the matter of the note. I snatch it up, shaking the red dirt off before putting it into my pocket.
I’m not wearing a belt, but I am wearing high ankle boots, and I slip the knife into them, pulling my pants leg into place around it, before storming out into the daylight. Or what’s left of the light. Pinks and oranges are painted across the horizon, reflecting off the ochre cliffs and making their peach and red hues even brighter.
Martin’s estate was surrounded by dead land. Barely enough struggling weeds to feed the cattle. The prettiest things there were his rose garden and the wild green of the kitchen garden.
But this. This is beautiful.
I suck in a deep breath and muster some attitude before turning toward the boys. I almost trip over Seth.
Of course one of the guys was standing in the doorway. Someone had to be.
“Easy,” he says, grabbing the back of my shirt and saving me from going over the narrow ledge.
The other three are over by the horses. Pax is running a brush over the horse I may or may not have stolen to get here. Roarke is sitting on the ground using a tree as a back rest, and Killian is on the other side of the yard, leaning against a railing and using a knife to take chunks out of the piece of wood in his hands. They’re all out of my bubble’s range.
“After you,” Seth says, motioning down the cliff.
It’s not a huge drop. After all, the guy who was living here was able to haul boxes and crates up into the cave. I probably would have survived the fall, and the roll over the rougher parts of the cliff, but I’m grateful not to have to find out.
“They’ve been talking about you,” he says, following me as I negotiate down the natural steps.
“Why?” I snap.
“Might have something to do with that piece of paper you were harboring.”
I grit my teeth. “Good. If they’re so keen to talk about it, they can answer all my questions.”
I step onto the grass and march toward them, my fist clenching and my jaw hurting. I need answers. I need to know what is going on, and, bralls, I’ve needed to know since day one.
A small shadow darts under my foot, gone before I get a proper look at it. Then my forehead hits something solid. The impact vibrates through my whole body and knocks me to the ground.
Chuckin’ bubble, I think as I groan and rub my stinging head.
Tears fill my eyes, and Seth’s laughter fills my ears.
“Slow down,” he says, catching up to me.
He crouches down beside me, waiting patiently as I wipe the tears away.
/> “Why?” I groan.
“Why were you keeping secrets?” he asks, ignoring my question.
He’s smiling, but there’s a forced edge to the corner of his lips.
“We were busy,” I grumble, sitting up in the soft grass. “You know, running from people, and things, and stuff blowing up.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I go on. “Don’t forget, I can’t read. I had no idea what this thing said.”
I wave it in the air, watching as his gaze follows the paper, then moves back to me. To my legs curled under me.
Then my hips.
Then my shoulders – okay, maybe my chest too – then along the line of my neck, past my lips, and finally settling on my eyes.
He’s given me goosebumps, and he hasn’t even touched me.
“I can read,” he says softly.
But before I can reply, he stands and offers me a hand up.
“Why’d you make me walk into the wall?” I grumble, which is my best attempt at changing the subject.
And I’m very aware that it sucks.
“I hadn’t seen you walk into the thing for a while. Thought I’d check if it was still there.”
All impressions of Seth leave me pretty certain that the only thing going on inside his head is reruns of past pranks and the planning of new ones. And he just broke that mold.
Seth has feelings.
And I hurt them.
“Because you wanted to get back at me?” I ask, brushing my shirt and pants – even though there’s not much dirt on them.
“Like, revenge? Harsh, Vexy. You should know, when I get my revenge, there’s more fireworks than thuds.”
I hesitate on the verge of hugging the guy, but movement by the horses catches my eye. Pax, clearly avoiding looking at me, gets my blood back to boiling point.
“After you.” I motion.
He starts walking, and I fall into place behind him. When we reach the others, I position myself so I can see them all.
Roarke has begun pulling up single blades of grass and slowly tearing them to pieces.
Killian hasn’t stopped scraping and chopping at his piece of wood. Pax moves to the other side of the mare he’s brushing, and nudges her so he can keep grooming – but with his back to me. Seth hops up on the railing – a tree branch, really, which bows under his weight.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 49