by Amy Braun
Uh, okay…
Knowing I couldn’t keep staring at him all day– though I was sure I could have if I really wanted to– I turned my face up to the clouds. I took a deep breath and inhaled.
“What am I supposed to be smelling again?” I inquired, my eyes still closed and my face still turned to the clouds.
“Close your mind from all distractions, and smell again. Tell me if you recognize it.”
I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I humored Hadrian and did as he asked. I recalled the yoga lessons I took with Piper and closed my mind, breathing in and holding the air in my lungs.
Then I noticed how thick and dry the air seemed to be. It wasn’t like the humid summers when the air felt like it was sweating.
My nose caught the barest whiff of salt and rainwater, a smell that dried my throat a little. Those were things I wouldn’t have been able to catch if I hadn’t been looking for them, even if I had been human. I opened my eyes and looked at Hadrian.
He nodded. “Your senses will likely become more attuned to the earth and air around you, especially when you choose to use your powers, because Stormkind draw their energy from them. Energy is in everything, Ava. The Primordials made sure the Stormkind knew that. Every time they land on earth, they feel it more intimately than anything humans can touch. They feel the very particles in the air, the texture of the life-forces they devour.”
I cringed at the last statement, but Hadrian didn’t appear to notice.
“That is how the Stormkind can bend the weather into the shapes they choose,” he continued. “The Primordials ensured they would see it as a tangible thing, something they were so attuned to, they could reach out, touch it, and imagine how they wanted it to be molded for their use. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” I grumbled.
Hadrian’s expression softened. “You will, with practice.” He looked up at the sky again. “What you smelled was a Stormkind. The Wild Ones smell like whatever they are trying to create. In this case, a thunder-Stormkind. You can tell by the scents of rain and the dry feeling in your throat.”
In school, we were shown old war footage of the Stormkind sprinting through various countries hurling ice, rain, dust and wind at anyone unlucky to be caught in their path, but we had no way of understanding how their powers worked. Storm hunters tried to find them, but failed. The Stormkind couldn’t be found or studied. Though it was pretty clear that the Guardians were responsible for keeping them out of the public eye.
With the Internet and news stations were still down, I didn’t know which city had been struck by a thunder-Stormkind, though I imagined the damage would have been catastrophic.
“Do Stormkind usually work together?” I asked hesitantly.
Hadrian shook his head. “Not usually. When they’re released, they choose a spot away from their siblings. They like to have an area all their own to desecrate.”
“Where do you keep them?”
“We have been able to conceal them in caves on the mountains. Along with longevity, the Primordials gifted us with a form of teleportation. The Stormkind are able to move at the speed of one of your fighter jets, which is why they look like comets when they find a target they want and choose to fall.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Am I going to be able to do that?”
His smile was lopsided and perfect. “I have no idea, Ava. Though I would guess the answer is no. You are only half of a Stormkind, remember?”
“So what you’re saying is I could potentially move at supersonic speeds?” I teased.
Poor Hadrian, fighting that smile so hard and losing so effortlessly. “Potentially. But I would not recommend you try it. You may find yourself immensely disappointed.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re no fun.”
He shrugged.
“Here’s another question.”
Hadrian smirked. “Of course there is.”
I cocked a hip, trying to look tough. I don’t think it worked the way I planned, since he was looking at me like I was being overly ridiculous, but at least I was getting that darkness out of his mind.
“How do you lock the Stormkind up?”
His grin faltered, though he answered honestly. “We use our tempest-blades. They are the only things strong enough to match and absorb the power of a Stormkind. We create a circle of them, caging the Stormkind inside. It is effective, but the issue is that for every bit of power that the tempest-blades consume, it is delivered back into the Stormkind. There is a push and pull of energy between the Stormkind and their cages, which sets them into a frenzy and makes them strong enough to eventually break through the gaps of their cages.”
“And you feel it right when it happens?”
Hadrian nodded.
“How many charges do you have?”
His eyes darkened. “Over the years, I have had many. Right now, I only have one.”
“Do others have more?”
“Some. Vitae and Zephys have already obtained theirs and put them back in the cages.”
“What about yours?” I said after he remained silent.
The silence stretched. Hadrian became a statue, and I slowly started to guess the answer to my question.
“One of two things happens when we find our charges,” he told me in a low voice. “First, we confront them, subdue them, and return them to their cage.”
“And the second thing?”
“We find them, and they have absorbed too many life forces, or have utilized too much of their powers and burned themselves out completely.”
I gasped. “That can happen?”
Hadrian nodded sadly. “More than I care to admit. We call it enervation. You experienced it before I brought you here.”
I winced, remembering how I’d passed out in Hadrian’s arms from sheer exhaustion. After sounding like a drunken idiot, of course.
He lowered his face and hid his eyes from me. “We are trained by our fathers and mothers. In that hundred year gap between the Centennials, we continue to train. But sometimes… Sometimes it is simply not enough. No matter how strong you are, no matter how fast, it is not possible to rescue them.”
Heartache was raw in his voice. I wondered if he remembered that he was talking to me, or if he was just thinking aloud. I was hesitant to break him out of his spell, but I didn’t want him to think he was alone.
I shuffled closer and gently clasped his hand. I felt his arm go rigid and his eyes cut to me, but I didn’t draw back.
“I know it doesn’t mean a whole lot,” I whispered, “but I am sorry for whoever was taken from you.”
Hadrian’s eyes searched mine. For what, I wasn’t sure. I could only imagine what it was like to be thousands, maybe even millions of years old, to have a family that stayed with you through dangerous missions and an even more dangerous world. The amount of love you would need to have to survive a century of tension, waiting for the deadliest beings on the planet to inevitably break free of the prisons you worked so hard to build. Perhaps even becoming attached to them, somehow. The ache of the loss when you knew they were gone.
He must have seen the pity on my face, because Hadrian withdrew his hand from mine and stepped back.
“We are not here to speak about me, Ava. We are here because you need to learn.”
I pouted. “I’m trying. Why do you think I’m asking so many questions?”
He arched one of his eyebrows in a dangerously sexy way. “I am not sure I have a polite response to that particular question.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Jerk.”
Hadrian’s mouth was its usual stern line, but his eyes sparkled. “May I begin?”
I unfolded one of my arms to wave him on, then crossed it again.
“As Vitae told you yesterday, my particular talent involves ice. While I can occasionally handle a water-based Stormkind, I am adept with ice and cold.”
“How do you determine what kind of Stormkind you’re good with?”
“Ava.”
“Fine, fine, keep explaining.”
His lips quirked, probably against his will. He was very good at regaining his control.
“You have shown that you are capable of channeling some of your abilities on a wide scale. They have likely adapted to your body without you realizing it, similar to the scar that changed, oblivious to you.”
I grimaced, but Hadrian didn’t miss a beat.
“Stormkind do not do anything in small measures. They attack easily on an expansive scale because it is natural to them. They do not reel back like Guardians can. We know about control, because it is not possible for us to create storms. We merely manipulate elements of them. The key will have to be that you are consciously aware of what you are doing. Making more with less, a phrase I am sure you have heard.”
“It’s actually less is more, but I get the idea.”
Hadrian nodded. A delicious shiver went down my spine. I remembered how he did that at my work, how it seemed like a gesture meant for me and me alone, though he likely did it to everyone he met.
“Ice is a challenge for Precips. Our instinct calls us to water, and freezing it to snow or ice takes considerable concentration. It took me thirty years to master the art and turn it into a reflex.”
“Geez. No pressure, or anything.”
Hadrian’s eyes softened. “You will be able to do this, Ava. First, I want you to feel the world around you, similar to how you did when you sensed the thunder-Stormkind. Relax your body and mind, absorb the feel of the air surrounding you. Touch the air, but do not attempt to grab it.”
I nodded. “Like the cookies on the baking sheet.”
He blinked and cocked his head. “What?”
“Touch them to make sure they’re fully baked, but don’t eat them before dinner.”
Hadrian stared at me like I was a fish that just learned now to speak. He quickly masked his confusion and said, “If that helps you.”
Well, I think it will. Hadrian raised one of his slick black eyebrows in challenge. I ignored how astonishingly sexy that simple motion was, and did as he asked. I could feel the Stormkind in the air, but I figured it wouldn’t mind sharing. It’s not like there wasn’t enough air to go around.
The air settled like a cool blanket over my shoulders, a gentle wind wrapping around my body. I inhaled the fresh air and tasted the dryness on my tongue when I breathed through my mouth. I wondered how close the thunder-Stormkind was that I could taste its energy, but I forced the thought from my mind. I didn’t want to lose control at the beginning of my lesson. Hadrian would probably get pissy. So I concentrated on breathing, and kept my traitorous hands at my side.
“Good,” Hadrian said calmly. He came around my back, hovering close. I struggled to keep my relaxed state of mind. “Do you know what snow feels like?”
I cracked my eyes open. “I live in Florida,” I said bluntly.
“And yet you caused a hail storm yesterday, then froze the floor of the prison a few hours later.”
I grimaced. “I didn’t know what I was doing. It was an instinct.”
“Which is what Stormkind have, and what you must learn to control. We need to find a way for you to harness your powers, without relying on the energy straight from the earth and air. Otherwise, it will be too easy for you to lose control.”
“I did fine before,” I pointed out.
“Because you kept your distance and were not consistently fighting. Human nature slipped through when you were scared and confused.” I must have looked ready to protest, because he held up a hand defensively. “I am not trying to belittle you. I’ve never encountered this before, and am simply talking aloud to understand it.” He lowered his hand. “There are two sides to you now, Ava. A human, and a Stormkind. When you access your Stormkind self, you will be able to harness stronger energies just as they can. As a human, you will be able to recall moral sensibilities. The trick is to find a way to balance the two.”
He studied me with an intensity that almost made me uncomfortable, yet I didn’t want him to look away. I knew he was only looking at me like that because he was trying to think about what to do with me, but I let myself wonder what it would be like to have that vivid blue gaze locked on me in another situation. If he would look at someone this way before he kissed her.
Not wanting him to catch onto that thought– or fully understanding where it came from– I was relieved when Hadrian found his line of thought.
“You are tethered to me,” he said. “Guardians draw power from the natural word to charge the tethers. Perhaps you can draw on that.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder, having to tilt my head back because he was so tall. “How?”
He drifted a little closer, until his chest was hovering around my shoulder. “I’m going to touch you and let you feel the tether. You will recognize the sensation, and you can draw remembrance from it.”
I hesitated. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll suck the life out of you or something?”
Hadrian didn’t even blink. “Not at all. You are in control of your impulses right now. You will not harm me.”
“You seem pretty sure,” I remarked cautiously.
“I am.”
Damned if I didn’t believe his confidence. I was still hesitant, but Hadrian didn’t wait for permission. He slipped his hand into mine and squeezed my fingers. I felt the warmth from him for a minute, until a sudden chill replaced it. I gasped at the sensation, but it didn’t really hurt. A cool feeling slipped into my chest, like a thread was floating to my heart and wrapped around it, spinning like a cool breeze until it solidified.
Hadrian’s tether really did feel like some kind of rope, but it wasn’t a noose. It wasn’t tight or constricting. It was just there. Cool, relaxed, and strong, as he was. A steady stream of energy that worked away tensions I didn’t know I had. A smooth caress that ran next to my very bones and veins.
“Was it the tether I felt when we first touched at the restaurant?” I asked, a little breathless.
“Yes,” he answered. He sounded a little husky himself. “That was the tether initiating between us. Tethers are indicative of our particular gifts. Mine is ice, so mine is cold.”
Cold is not what this was. Hadrian’s tether was a gentle fall breeze, or a glass of water on a hot day.
“What does mine feel like?” I asked, curious.
Hadrian paused, brilliant blue eyes looking nowhere but mine. It was beyond intimate, but I wasn’t going to ask him to stop. I liked the way he was looking at me. There didn’t need to be a reason for it.
“Like every element. The flow of water, the coolness of ice, the strength of wind, the warmth of sand.” He tilted down, getting even closer to me. “You are like nothing I have ever felt before, Ava.”
My pulse raced under my skin. I watched him, waiting and wondering if he would get closer. My eyes dropped to his lips, and I suddenly wondered what they would taste like.
That was when he stopped. He drew back and released my hand. I still felt the cool caress of the tether around my heart, but the intensity was a fraction of what it used to be. Saying I missed it was an understatement.
“Now you know what my tether is like,” he said. “If you find yourself in need of energy, reach for it. My power will give you strength.”
“And vice versa?”
“Yes.” Hadrian smiled roguishly. “But it is very unlikely that I will find myself helpless.”
I snorted. “Good to know your ego will always be intact.”
“Confidence and egoism can be separate.”
I wouldn’t know. “Okay. Next lesson.”
“Imagine the feel of the tether outside of your body. We’ll find a way to interweave the energy in the air with the tether’s power so you can use it. Your range may not be as substantial, but we can work on it once we have a trick figured out.”
Something told me that would take a very long time. “Is there no way I can draw it straight from the air?”
> Hadrian frowned. “Not unless you are distanced from everyone. Otherwise, you could give into temptation and seek to strip anyone close to you of their life-force. Which is why we must do it the long and hard way. Stormkind react on impulse. You must rely on conscious control. Giving up too much of that will make you lose control, much as your friend Declan did.”
I tensed at his name. “Declan is not my friend. I want nothing to do with him. Ever.”
Hadrian paused for a beat. “Then do it the hard way. Exercise control.”
Sure, that sounded easy enough. Imagine the tether inside my body, outside of my body instead. Shouldn’t have been very hard.
Shouldn’t have been, but was.
It was like standing in a dark basement and trying to feel the heat of the sun. Yeah, I knew what the sun felt like, my brain would recognize the sensation, but if I were standing in a dark basement, my body couldn’t react to something it couldn’t feel, let alone see.
I imagined everything from ice on my skin to jumping in a cold pool. I thought about the tether, felt it inside, tried to push it out.
All I did was give myself a headache.
“You are trying too hard.”
I snapped my eyes open and glared at him. “Sorry I can’t master it after the first try. How many tries did it take you?”
Hadrian crossed his arms. “One.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course it did,” I mumbled.
From my peripherals, I could have sworn Hadrian grinned, but I avoided it so I wouldn’t be distracted. For what seemed like the next forever, I tried to imagine the sturdy chill of the tether mixing with the lazy chill of the air around me. The textures were similar, but different enough that I wasn’t sure what they would feel like together.
I did everything I could think of, except touching the air. The last thing I wanted to do right now was give in to some kind of impulse I didn’t understand and manipulate the air around me.
I thought about different temperatures I’d felt over the years, how different the coolness in October was compared to the chill in January. I imagined fall breezes and cool nights, but I didn’t recognize the tether’s solid texture in the air around me. The tether seemed determined to stay inside my body rather than sneak out of my skin and help me create some snow.