Odd. Other than Quanto displaying his ability to enter her dreams, she knew next to nothing about the men who hosted her stay. Had her focus truly been that narrow? She came here to learn, to master her ability so she could use it as a weapon and hunt down those who killed her father. Her resolve hardened. Nothing about that mission had changed. All she’d cared about was their ability to teach her.
“It’s all right. I don’t think I’ve gone out of my way to tell you.” He touched a hand to the redness on his jaw, a slash of color she knew would turn into a bruise. Rather than stare at his mouth, she forced herself to look at his uninjured eye. “I feel other people, what they’re feeling, in my head or my heart or soul. However you want to look at it.”
Shame flushed through her. Could he feel her? Something in her expression must have given her away because his smile gentled.
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “I’m trying not to right now, but when you touch me I feel all of it.” She didn’t imagine his gaze lingering on her mouth. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, the fault was mine. I kissed you.”
“Why did you?” The question escaped before she could swallow it. Rules of propriety aside, there was nothing normal about her sojourn on this mountain. Somewhere on the long, hard road from Kansas, she’d left behind the reality of every day interactions and stepped into a world populated by beings more suited to myth than life.
“I told myself it was to help you,” he murmured and the low, husky timbre of his voice stroked her. “You were really upset.”
Amusement curled in her belly. “So kissing me would cure my upset?”
To her absolute delight, he actually reddened. “I thought you needed to be reminded that I was real. You acted like you’d conjured me. I’m not entirely sure how your gift works, but you didn’t believe me when I said I was there.”
She glanced down at her dusty boots and eyed the length of her borrowed pants. They were the color of sand, but dirt stained the fabric and she’d ripped at the hem of one leg. She must be a sight in her borrowed clothes with her hair falling untamed. Her usual put together and smart appearance turned so rough and ready, it was almost prosaic. “Conjuring relies on how I’m feeling and how much I believe in something. To make it happen, I have to really want it.” Licking her lips, she swallowed her embarrassment at confessing how much she’d wanted him to be there “If I don’t believe, it won’t happen. Do you remember when I called the dog into being that first day?”
The memory stuck out as a sore point for her, because they’d goaded her into doing it and once it appeared, she’d nearly been unable to send it away. The intense struggle left its mark on her, but somehow she’d found the confidence to put away her fear of it and then it was a simple matter. Her tantrum at Wyatt in the barn had been something else altogether and she remained deeply grateful that he’d knocked her out.
That flaw in her ability meant she could be stopped because the illusions took their life and their form from her. Unconscious, she couldn’t keep them manifested and they would dissipate.
He nodded. “You were upset then, too.”
Uncomfortable with his intimate knowledge of her emotional state, she fought another wave of heat burning her face. “Yes. One of the reasons my father wanted me never to use my gift is that persistent use can make it stronger. Because it is dependent on my emotional state, being very upset can make it so much worse. It becomes harder to control when you add other people into that mix. The illusions can feed off their fears.” Biting her lower lip, she considered how much more she should reveal, but seeing only honest interest in his expression and no judgment, she pushed on. “So when I came out to the lake, I was upset by what you said, but I was also tired and frustrated from the exercises Quanto put me through today.”
Swallowing another lump of grief, she glanced away from William to look at the water. “He wants me to conjure my father and I don’t know why.”
A long silence met her confession and, when she thought perhaps she’d admitted too much, a tentative hand touched her shoulder. “Are you sure he wants you to conjure your father? That seems unnecessarily cruel and they are tough, but they aren’t mean. Not without a purpose.” The conviction in his tone and the lightness in his contact both offered comfort. When she turned, his hand fell away.
“I don’t know. He told me a story about my father. About what happened to him when he was younger. I think I understand better than ever why he didn’t want any part of his gift.”
“But you still wonder why didn’t he use it that day?” His insight startled her. At her nod, William lifted his shoulders with a wince. “I didn’t know your father, and I don’t know what story Quanto shared with you, but I have lived my whole life with this ability. Well, since I was four or five. I remember the first time I knew what someone else was feeling.” He frowned, a struggle playing out in the beauty of his blue eyes. “It was unnerving. My brother Jason and I were close when we were younger. There are four of us, you see, but my mother passed away when I was born.”
Sympathy stabbed her. She, too, lost her mother at a very young age. So young, she only had vague memories of her—memories her father could have enhanced if he’d used his gift. Troubled by that realization, she pushed the thought aside to focus on William. “Was he the first one you felt?”
After a slow nod, he rubbed his jaw again and she gave into the temptation to soak her handkerchief in the chill water and squeezed out the excess. Returning to him, she pressed the cool cloth against his bruised jaw. His expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Hmm, you should sit down. We need to put something on your eye.” The urge to take care of him wouldn’t leave her alone.
“I’ll be fine.” He covered her hand briefly with his and she let her fingers linger a moment before withdrawing. “Thank you.”
Her touch made it harder for him. It was both disappointing and provocative at the same time. Clearing her throat, she clasped her hands together to keep from reaching out again. “So, you and your brother…?”
“Jason’s…he’s older than me by a couple of years, but when we were kids, it didn’t seem like we were that far apart. It was he and I and our older brothers Sam and Micah. Sam’s a lot older.” A small smile. “He seemed ancient even when he was younger. He and Micah, they’re different. Grounded, settled. It’s like they always were.”
“So the age difference mattered?” She tried to concentrate on his words as opposed to staring in his eyes, but he never looked away from her, the intensity of his regard damn near a physical caress.
“Very much so. It’s funny…I’d almost forgotten this until now.” A line crinkled between his eyes. “Jason was my best friend. We did everything together. Micah and Sam would be out with Pa and Jason and I would be at the house with Miss Annabeth unless she chased us out of the kitchen for sneaking sweets.” Another fast grin and her heart thudded against her ribs. Even the bruising redness and split lip didn’t detract from the beauty of his face. If anything, it demonstrated just how handsome he really was through a study in contrasts. As if shaking off the memory, his attention returned to her. “We were down at the barn and we weren’t supposed to be there, but we wanted to watch the horses breeding.”
She bit her lip to hold back laughter at the sudden self-conscious look on his face. “I understand.” She kept her nod solemn. A twinkle danced in his eye, and she stopped trying to hold back her grin.
“We were up in the loft, trying to stay quiet so we wouldn’t get scolded or sent back up to the house. We ended up wrestling for the best vantage point.” Another moment of quiet, and she realized he wasn’t quite with her anymore. Something about the story kept pulling him away. “It’s what brothers do.” The words were so soft she had to step closer to hear them. “I don’t remember how it happened exactly. We were wrestling and trying not to giggle and then he fell. Shock hit first, then fear, and then pain. It hurt so bad when he landed. He broke his arm.”
She dug her nails
into her palms to keep from reaching out to him. Hurt clouded his expression. Hurt and some other indefinable emotion.
“It was like my own arm had been broken and I choked on it. I choked on the pain and the terror and I think I blacked out. Later, Pa had a doctor come out and they set Jason’s arm. The agony of it tore through me, too—son of a bitch.” He swore and she blinked at the sudden vehemence of it.
“What?”
“I—” He dropped the cool handkerchief from his jaw and held up two fingers as though asking her to wait. “I took his pain. I didn’t just feel it for the first time. That was the first time I took it.”
“I don’t understand.” She wanted to, she really did, and the longing surprised her.
“I can do more than feel what you feel. I can take away the feelings, soften them. Pain, anger, hatred…and I suppose the reverse is true. I can take joy and happiness, but I don’t try to take those away. I prefer to give them.” Wonder filled his voice.
What a terrifying ability. “What does it do to you?”
He blinked slowly and looked at her as though remembering she stood there. “What?”
“Taking those bad emotions? It can’t be pleasant. No one wants to hurt or be in pain. So what does it do to you?”
He shook his head. “It tears me up, shreds me and I think, over time, it’s changed me.”
The bald honesty impressed and saddened her. A breeze caressed her cheek and her heart pounded so loudly, surely he could hear it. His words broke a fragment of memory free, one hazy with half-remembered agony. “You took my pain the day you found me, didn’t you?”
Red flushed his face and he glanced down. “Yes, ma’am.”
He’d suffered for her, a complete stranger, and he hadn’t had to. Uncurling her fingers, she touched her hand to his chest just over his heart and looked up until he met her gaze. “Thank you.”
Surprise flared in his good eye. “Ma’am?”
Grateful and very touched by his actions, she didn’t try to hide any of the emotions his words and choices provoked in her. “Thank you. I mean that. It’s why I’m touching you. I want you to know I mean it.” She hadn’t realized the root behind her choice, the action instinctive until she’d given it words. The sense of safety and security she felt around him, the gratitude for helping her…More than once she suspected something, considering her near loss of control on the porch and again here at the lake.
“You don’t have to thank me. You were upset because of what I said.”
“Shh.” She patted his chest, very gently, mindful of how he’d been holding himself. “I don’t think anyone thanks you or you would know how to take it graciously. Yes, you said you didn’t want to bed me and I was upset, but probably less for the reasons you assumed.”
His head tilted, the question obvious in his expression.
She abandoned caution entirely. “Because until you said it, I hadn’t even realized how entertaining the idea would be.” Bold and direct were in her lexicon, but usually only in academic matters. The memory of his kiss still fresh in her mind reminded her there was nothing academic about their physical contact or the lush ideas he’d evoked.
“Oh.” He swallowed hard and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “This is a very bad idea.”
“Is it?” Heat pulsed through her at the husky quality of his voice.
“Yes, ma’am.” But he didn’t look away.
“Am I really unattractive to you, with my lofty airs and sad eyes?” The forward behavior, the directness of it—she embraced letting him know what she felt. Fevered were different, but here—she wasn’t isolated. She didn’t have to be alone. More than that, she liked William.
Another flush and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve hurt a lot of people because I don’t have the control I should.” He exhaled a hard breath. “You wanting me makes you even more tempting.”
Unwilling to punish him in any way, she curled her fingers and pulled her hand back. “Can we be friends, William?”
His lashes dipped and hid his eye from her, then raised and the naked vulnerability in his gaze stabbed at her heart. “Then you forgive me?”
“If we can be friends.” She wanted much more with him and it would take some time to acclimate to, but the yearning coursing through her demanded she do something. If he could not handle touching her, then perhaps friendship could mute the ragged need.
“I’ll help you,” he promised. “With your gift.”
“Only if it doesn’t cost you with yours.” She’d already caused him pain once. She didn’t want to do it again.
“It’d be worth it.” He put her wet handkerchief back to his jaw. “Well worth it. Do you want to keep walking or shall I escort you back to the house?”
Her heart did a little twist and she bit her lip again. “I’m not ready to go back yet.” Unwilling to break their odd accord.
“Then let’s walk before I cross the boundary of our new friendship.” His tone was playful and his words teasing, but she heard the chord of truth in them and, as tempting as it sounded, he’d asked her to keep a bit of a distance.
She’d respect that. Following his lead, they continued on around the lake and, even though they didn’t talk, it was the best hour she’d experienced since arriving on the mountain. She didn’t think it was anything William did and everything to do with his presence. For a little while, her grief faded and she just was and she adored him for it.
Chapter 17
Kid, Heaven
“It’s not funny!” Evelyn scowled at him and sloshed through the water back to the shore. Her hair dripped and stuck to her cheeks, while her shirt and pants plastered to her body.
“It might be a little funny.” No matter how he tried to contain his amusement, his lips kept twitching. She’d been fierce in her attempts to conjure today, but when the bear she’d called up took offense, Kid hadn’t been able to stop it from pursuing her right to the water’s edge. He’d managed to distract it and then she’d sent it away again, but not before she was soaked to the skin. “Not sure how much you know about bears, but they can swim.”
Her response was to flick water at him as she slogged back onto shore and sat down on the rock to begin wringing out her hair. “I don’t understand how I have so much control and then something happens and I can’t make them go away.”
Squatting down next to her, Kid blew out a breath. “It seems to me that when you’re tired, your control is shaky.”
Evelyn paused and squinted at him. “That would make sense, but Quanto keeps pushing me even when I am fatigued.”
“He’ll do that. They’ll both do it, really.” Though Quanto worked less and less with Kid these days, the shaman seemed intent on Evelyn and queried Kid from time to time on his progress. When he wasn’t with Evelyn, Kid spent his time with Wyatt or working on his shields. It’d been nearly a month since he’d formed the first one and it’d shattered when she touched him. His new ones wavered, but they didn’t collapse completely.
“But if my control goes away with exhaustion…” She looked defeated. “What am I supposed to do?”
Pulling out the leather he’d been braiding when her yelp called him down from the hillside, he settled in next to her. “Have you considered resting?” He kept his eye on his task, but when her fist landed against his upper arm in a mock punch, he laughed.
“You’re so mean.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” She punctuated the words with three more flicks of water.
Grinning, he kept right on braiding. Having something to do, he’d found, helped him keep the shields focused. “The reason they push you to keep conjuring even when you’re tired is it might save your life. Our gifts have a price and they always demand it. It’s like the shields I’m trying to build. They’re shaky now, but they last longer. In a few days, Wyatt and I are going to go down the mountain to test them.” It made his gut churn to even think about the idea, but the only way to kno
w how well they worked was to leave the sanctuary of the mountain. Here, he only had to keep Evelyn out—hard enough of a challenge when keeping her away was the last thing he desired.
“Are you ready for that?”
He didn’t need his ability to hear the concern lacing the question. “I don’t know.” He stole a sideways look at her. The sun sparkled against her drops of water sliding over the faint gold of her skin. She needed to wear her hat more.
Shoving the wet hair out of her eyes, she shifted toward him. “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”
“Life doesn’t always care if you’re ready for something, Evelyn. It happens.” He shrugged. “Wyatt will be there. He’ll keep me from doing anything too stupid.” But only if Kid asked for help. They’d discussed it at length and, unless he did something that really endangered someone else, he needed to rely on his judgment of the situation.
“If it does work, what then?”
It was a question he’d been asking himself a lot over the last few weeks. Since the day they’d struck their bargain for friendship, he’d worked diligently to shore them up. He’d meant it when he told her he would help her and, more often than not, he found a way to be in the vicinity when she worked on her conjuring. He only intervened when she was too distraught or too exhausted to dispel what she summoned.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Liar.”
“It’s not very polite to…allege a crime without evidence.” He’d been paying attention to her word choices. She loved the big ones, but she still couldn’t clean a stall worth a damn. Wyatt finally allowed Kid to take care of the heavier chores, but they’d all insisted Evelyn learn how to cook.
Laughter filled the air and he basked in the warmth of her smile. “Very well done, William.”
Raising Kane Page 23