The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two (Daughters of Dark Root Book 4)
Page 22
I pulled away, studying his face. It looked both the same and different. His jaw was unshaven, his face dirty and gaunt. And there was something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on. “You are not supposed to be here.”
He removed his hat. His shaggy brown hair was plastered against his head. “You really want me to go?”
I shook my head, still not daring to believe. Instead, I turned, bolting into the woods as fast as I could run.
“Maggie!” Michael called after me, then I heard Merry say, “Let her go.”
I sprinted through the coolness of the dark forest, now unencumbered by either pregnancy or mourning.
Where was I going? I didn’t know, but a hazy, dreamlike confusion spurred me on. Ruth Anne said the last stage of grief was acceptance. But what happens when the dead return to life? There was no sixth stage for this turn of events. Only delirium.
I pushed harder, listening to my footsteps hit the earth as I trampled over gnarled roots and ducked beneath moss-covered limbs. At last, I collapsed against the trunk of a tree. I coughed, then cried, then choked.
Firm hands grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around. Shane’s hands. Shane’s face.
“Please, leave me alone!”
He simply held me. I caught a whiff of his familiar minty aftershave. “Maggie, you’re in shock. But I’m here now, and everything’s going to be alright.”
“Everything is not alright.” I spoke softer now, the haze slowly releasing me. “You died out there, Shane.” I pointed a finger to the real world. “And you died in here.” I held a finger to my heart.
He unexpectedly lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His body smelled musky, like the woods. He nudged his forehead to mine, our eyes meeting. I knew what was different now––his eyes were brown, not gray.
“I’m not going to leave you ever again,” he said. “Got that?”
I tried to articulate my thoughts. “How should I feel? You left me. I was sick and you left me to be with your... with your wife.” I rubbed my temples, blinking away the next string of tears. “We thought you were dead and now you show up? After all you put me through, I’m supposed to be okay? No, Shane, it doesn’t work that way.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, lowering me to my feet.
“Make it up to me?” I took a step back. “I’d already forgiven you because you died. I’m not sure I can forgive you now that you’re living.”
Shane tilted his head. His hair was scraggly and caked in dirt. “Everything I did, I did for us. For you.”
“Liar!” Rage refueled me. I balled up my fists. “You did this for yourself!”
“Please, just listen.”
“Dead people can’t talk.”
“I love you, Maggie. I love you more than my own life. You have to believe me.”
I stared, not responding.
“I will never, ever let you go again.” He grabbed my wrists and reeled me in, wrapping his arms around me. “Do you hear me?” he asked, forcing my lips to his mouth. His breath was masculine and warm. He tightened his hold, his arms moving up and down my back, covering me like a cloak. The longer he held me, the less I fought. Finally, all I was aware of was his breath and his heartbeat.
Shane was home.
I had lived through his death and now his resurrection. I could live through the end of the world now, if I had to. I burrowed my nose into his neck, tasting his sweat.
There was no hesitation in his eyes as he pushed down my shorts, sending them to the ground. He lifted me again, shoving me against the tree.
He kissed me again, with more need and urgency than I had ever known, even in our most elaborate dreams. He pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth. I returned his kisses as fervently and demanding as he gave them. Something had awakened in me––the need to bond with him, to bind with him, in any way possible.
I tore at his shirt, ripping the collar and exposing his shoulders. I moaned as my hands made contact with his firm biceps, tugging the shirt over his head. My hands grazed his slim waist and snaked up his muscular chest.
“I’ve needed you, Maggie.” He moaned into my ear as he removed my shirt. I stood before him, bare-chested yet unafraid. “I’ve needed you more than I’ve ever needed anything.”
He laid me onto the bare ground. With a turn of his wrist, he unbuckled his belt. “I’ve waited longer for you than I’ve ever waited for any woman. I’ve done things to be with you I wouldn’t do for anyone else.” He sat up on his knees, more perfect than a Renaissance statue.
“Shane...”
“You want me to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Like hell you do.” He took my face in his hands and stared down at me, with his strange new brown eyes. “Tell me you want me, Maggie.”
“No.”
“Then tell me to stop.”
We held our positions. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a single drop falling onto my exposed navel. He now took my hands, caressing my fingers, lowering his body onto mine until I was pressed firmly into the earth. “It’s up to you, Maggie.” He blew on my neck. “Tell me you want me or tell me to leave.”
I breathed deeply, feeling his heartbeat align with mine. The world had gone to hell but now there was light again.
“Well?” he asked in a kiss.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“What do you want?” His finger hooked beneath my chin.
“You. I want you, Shane Doler.”
Before I could process my own words, he was inside of me. I moaned deeply as we writhed together on the forest floor. My fingers clawed and tugged at his shoulders. I smelled his sweat. Felt his desire. Reveled in the muscles on his back and the dark scent of his maleness.
I wrapped my legs around his lower waist, pulling him in deeper, even as my mind exploded.
The little-death some called it. But it wasn’t little for me.
It was monumental. A burst of color and sensuality and bliss.
If I had actually died in that moment, I would have been greeted by angels. Or demons.
I didn’t care.
It would be a death worthy of writing about.
TWENTY-SIX
I’m a Believer
SUNSHINE FILTERED THROUGH the branches, splitting ribbons of light down upon us. We lay half-naked on our backs, satiated, staring at the clouds parading across the blue sky. From the tree directly overhead, a lone red leaf fluttered down, swirling as it meandered towards us, settling in the crease between our bodies.
Shane took my hand and kissed it, then held it down on his chest. His sexual energy had smoothed, replaced by a drugged, dreamy smile. His hair was mussed and his cowboy hat lay beside him. I rolled onto my side, pressing my chin into his shoulder so that I could study him.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?”
I disentangled my hand and traced the lines of his face. He had several new wrinkles cutting across his temples, and two new vertical indents between his brows. He’d aged several years in just a few months and I wondered what had happened. But I didn’t ask, because I wasn’t ready to ruin our moment.
“Well...” he chuckled, a blush hitting his cheeks. “How was... it?”
I sat up, looking around for my bra. I found it buried beneath my shorts. “It? What it are you referring to, sir? The economy? The state of world peace? Or did you mean my breakfast this morning? The answer to all of those questions is wobbly at best.”
“You’re going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, pulling leaves from my hair as I dressed.
“You’re many things Maggie Mae, but coy doesn’t suit you.”
I yawned, feigning disinterest.
“Sex, Maggie. How was the sex?”
“The sex? Eww! I prefer the term love-making.”
“Of course, you do. So, how was our love-making?” He grimaced at the last word and I laughed.
He groaned, reaching for his hat. “Why do you make me work for everything?”
“Make you work for everything? I’m the one sleeping with a ghost.”
“Ghosts don’t have my kind of moves.”
“I must have missed those moves,” I teased. I straddled him. I looked into his eyes, our chins touching. “It was nice,” I finally answered.
Shane rubbed his jaw. “Nice, huh?”
“Very nice?”
“Great.”
“It’s not your fault,” I continued to tease. “You might just be out of practice.” I immediately regretted my words. I had no real idea if he actually was out of practice. He’d disappeared for months with his wife, Irene. For all I knew, he’d practiced every second he could. I sat up straight.
“Before your mind goes there,” he said. “Let me assure you, I’m very out of practice. More out of practice than you are.”
“How do you figure?”
He glanced quickly at my full breasts and nearly flat stomach.
“Oh.” I blushed.
“The baby Merry was holding... it’s yours, right?”
“Yes. His name is Montana.”
Shane’s eyes blazed. “Montana! Woo-hoo! Now that’s a good name!”
I smiled, relieved he didn’t find it weird. “I wanted to remember you. And I wanted my son to know you, too.”
We breathed together, listening to the world around us, content with only this moment. He raked his fingers through the ends of my hair while I repeatedly kissed the top of his head. Finally, I asked the dreaded question.
“Shane, why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
His face paled, his eyes earnest. “I screwed up, Maggie. I wasn’t honest with you, not like I should have been. The truth was, I was afraid that if you knew I was... still married, I’d lose you. I wanted to tell you a million times, but... well, I have no excuses.”
“Did you love her?”
“Irene and I married very young. She was beautiful and fascinating.” He smiled, with one side of his mouth. “She was probably the best tracker I’d ever met. She could find almost anything, given a good description. She didn’t even need a picture. Her abilities were humbling.”
“I see.” Hearing about “the amazing Irene” felt as good as being stabbed with a dinner fork. “Go on,” I encouraged, even as my stomach began to sour.
“I didn’t marry her because of her beauty, or even her abilities. I married her because I thought I could protect her. The Agency, the folks who wanted to use us, had secret plans for her. They were convinced of an impending war––the war to end all wars, literally. They wanted to send her to some of the most dangerous parts of the world. She could have been killed.”
“Didn’t they want to send you, too?”
He laughed, though it was more of a scoff. “I was too unpredictable. They got me to drink their Kool-Aid initially, but I’ll be damned if I was going to drink the whole pitcher. Irene was the logical choice. She was the most gifted of us all, as well as naïve and malleable. I was told by a good friend in The Agency, that if we married, it would be harder to ship her away.
“And––Uncle Joe taught me this––the ritual of marriage has a magickal protection to it. Symbolic magick, if you will. When two people enter into a spiritual union, they share spiritual protection. I thought I could keep her safe, maybe even bring her to Dark Root, where it would be harder for other trackers to find us.”
“What happened?”
“When they discovered we were married, they backed off temporarily, at least until they could figure out what to do with us. I’d caused a few problems already––fights mostly. But it was my resistance to further brainwashing they didn’t like.” He raised his shoulders. “I think they probably would have stuffed me in a quiet little box somewhere if they weren’t worried I’d eventually get out and tell the world about their little secret government operation.”
Shane put on his hat, tilting it to block the sun.
I processed what he said, and I believed him, but I still had so many questions. “Once Irene was safe, why didn’t you get divorced?”
He squinted, lost in further thought.
“I couldn’t risk them finding out it was a sham marriage. We lived together for a few months as husband and wife, biding our time until we could go our separate ways. Our plan was to play it out, disappear separately, then meet up in the future and secretly divorce. I returned to Dark Root and she went to Colorado.”
He sighed heavily, his eyes falling towards a bug scuttling across the ground. “Eventually, they found her staying with a relative in Denver. She didn’t know what else to do so she came here. I gave her money and the names of people I thought could protect her. But we both knew they were going to keep coming after us forever. That’s when we came up with our plan.”
“To fake your own deaths?”
“Yep.”
“That’s really the only way you could get rid of them? These people must be monsters!”
Shane pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me and pushing back his hat. “Monsters is a subjective term, Maggie. They do what they do because they think it will save the world. What are a few lives in exchange for thwarting a war that could end all mankind?” He lowered his head. “We were a means to an end.”
I understood, kind of. Mother had similar notions. The desire to do good often came at a very dear cost.
“Maybe there really is a war brewing? Mother said one is coming, and that it was preventable if we were all diligent. Aunt Dora still talks about holding back the Dark.”
“Yeah, Uncle Joe, too. I think they were right, Maggie. All of them. But does that mean we sacrifice ourselves to stop something that may or may not come to pass? When does it end?” He sniffed the air, as if smelling something very far away––something ancient that had risen up from the earth. His nose curled. “Sasha believed the Council’s spells could hold it back. The Agency believed we could track those who would eventually rise up to start it, killing them first.”
“But what if The Agency was wrong?”
“Exactly. They were getting their information using trained psychics. Hell, I’ve been around enough psychics to know they aren’t always right and that fates shift. A person’s destiny can change in an instant. I couldn’t, in good conscience, go along with their plans knowing everything I knew. It wasn’t in me, or in Irene. I decided my best chance at helping the world, if it really was in its final days, was to come home and continue what Uncle Joe helped start.”
I shifted on his lap. “So... you faked her death. But why yours, too? I thought they’d given up on you.”
Shane caught his breath. His face reddened.
I knew he was afraid to tell me something. “Go on,” I gently encouraged.
“Irene and I have a son, Maggie.”
“What?!” I looked him up and down, waiting for him to crack a smile. Gotcha. But deep inside, I knew he was telling the truth.
“I never talk about him. Shame, I suppose. I left when she was pregnant.”
You’re good at that.
It was a cruel thought, and I pushed it away the second it arrived, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he sensed my accusation.
“Please don’t hate me. I didn’t know she was pregnant when I left.” He took my hands, folding them into his. “I love you, Maggie, with everything in me. I was afraid you’d look at me, well, the way you’re looking at me now.”
I was hurt and surprised, but who was I to chastise him? I’d kept my own pregnancy secret because I was afraid he’d leave. If we really were Twin Souls, I should expect he’d do the same. We were matched, in the bad stuff as well as the good.
“I just don’t know how to feel right now,” I admitted. “On one hand, I lov
e you and I’m so happy to have you back. But I’m also very upset you have a wife and a son... Oh, god. I just slept with a married man!”
I pushed against him, fighting my way to standing. He latched on to my wrist. “Please don’t run again. It was a marriage of convenience only.”
“That’s what all cheating men say.”
“Oh fuck, Maggie! C’mon! Look me in the eyes––you know I’m telling the truth.”
I looked for a long moment. All I saw was the other half of my soul. “I believe you.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed me. A sweet kiss this time. Taking my hands, he said, “I had to look after my son once I found out about him. If we did it right, The Agency thinks we’re all dead. We disappeared on a Ley Line, which makes us harder to track. Soon, Irene will quietly leave the country and I’ll stay here. Fortunately, The Agency has no clue of my ties to Dark Root.”
“Why didn’t you bring Irene and your son here, then?”
He lowered his head, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. “Irene’s still in love with me. I know I’m being selfish, but I want to share my life with you, not her.”
I continued to digest the news as my eyes kept watch on the world around us. A strong musky scent hit the air. “Maybe she would hit it off with Michael,” I joked, bitterly. “That would solve both our problems.”
“But can you imagine the family reunions?” He grinned. “No, my dear, there’s only one thing I want, and that is you.”
“But what about your son?”
“Daniel.” He stopped kissing me and smiled. “He’s a great kid. Looks just like me, only not as rugged.” He rubbed his thumb across the stubble on his chin. “We even have the same star-shaped birthmark.” Shane lifted his hand to show me a dime-sized blemish near his wrist.
“Your witch’s mark!” I exclaimed, remembering how Jillian had shown me the butterfly mark by her knee. “They are passed through lineage.”
“Yep. I certainly didn’t need a DNA test when I saw that.”
I stepped in, getting close. Shane’s eyes glanced down at my chest. I suddenly felt self-conscious. “Don’t get too attached to how big they are,” I teased as his fingers grazed my bra strap. “They’re only loaners. Soon, they’ll be put back into the vault for at least ten years.”