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Blackstone, Tasha - Waking Beauty [Windsong Keep] (Siren Publishing Allure)

Page 3

by Tasha Blackstone


  “Can you phase if you’re carrying her?”

  His hopeful eyes bored into Ian and he watched his friend cycle through possibilities. Ian was definitely not one for following rules and he hungered for adventure, no matter what the consequences might be. Hunter had worried that this might be too much for him, but he should have known better. A large, devious smile crossed Ian’s mouth and he marched up to the woman’s bedside.

  “Well, we’ll sure find out won’t we?”

  In one swift movement, Ian hoisted the woman into his arms, cradling her like a man would his new bride just before carrying over the threshold.

  “Lead the way. I’ll do what I can, but you need to send your feelers out. I’m in no mood to get caught.”

  Hunter reached out and took the woman’s hand in his. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch, her slender fingers perfectly manicured and painted with red lacquer. “Hang on.”

  * * * *

  As the black goop inched its way closer, Talia feared that she was running out options. It seemed like no matter which way she turned, the darkness found her faster than before. She had never seen it act this way, like it was hunting her, and the feeling was beyond unsettling. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she came to terms with the fact that even though she might have had a chance at freedom, the darkness was winning and she was sure to die. In one last effort to lose the darkness, Talia turned and ran through the only opening she could find, but she wasn’t fast enough. Black, sticky tentacles reached out and wrapped around her ankles, tripping her up and knocking her onto her face. Cloud-like or not, when she hit, she hit hard and it hurt. Her body convulsed in pain and her bottom lip bled from where her teeth had bitten down during impact.

  The iron taste filled her mouth and the pain caused more tears to sting her eyes. The tentacles continued to spiral up her legs and she tried to kick them free, but the harder Talia fought, the tighter they became. Hysteria slammed into her and Talia found that the end she had been aching for for so long had come too soon after all.

  Chapter Three

  “I can’t do it. No. More precisely, I won’t do it.”

  Hunter watched closely as Hope paced around the room. Her black dress swished with her movement and she ran her fingers up through her stark white hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her brow scrunched down into a permanent frown. Hope’s reaction was to be expected. Hunter never asked small favors of her and when he did come to her for help it typically included the use of her gift, along with the potential of drawing the attention of the Guardians.

  She stopped in the center of the room and turned her glare on him. All he could do was smile back at her.

  He never could understand her need to lie to him. He was an Empath, after all, and he always knew when she was being dishonest. Her anxiousness toward the task at hand was understandable, but he knew she would do it. That’s one of the reasons why he came to her. That and her gift was quite possibly the only one strong enough to wake the sleeping beauty.

  Pain surged through his body and he knew that they were running out of time. He held onto the chilled hand of the woman he and Ian had in essence kidnapped from the chambers and squeezed it in reassurance. He did not know if she could feel his touch, but as time escaped them and she feared for her life, it was all he had to offer.

  “Hope,” he whispered, “please. I know you’re scared, but she doesn’t have much time left. I don’t know what is happening to her, but I can feel her fear and pain. She believes that her life has finally reached its end and we need to help her.”

  Hunter watched as Hope turned to face the woman, her lavender eyes staring at the body that lay motionless on her bed. He could feel that her heart ached for the woman, but that the fear of being caught was in control of her ability to make a decision. She slowly walked over to stand beside him and lifted the woman’s other hand into hers.

  Her voice was lower than a whisper and filled with sadness as she spoke.

  “Hunter, you know I want to help you. I feel for her, I really do, but why is she our responsibility? I can’t rescue every lost soul you bring to me because of your gift. I have spent many a night in The Hole because of you and him.” She gestured behind her toward Ian.

  From the corner of the room Hunter heard Ian clear his throat and watched as he stepped from the shadows. Ian always kept his distance from Hope unless she permitted him otherwise. They had a history that went back at least a century and no matter how hard they tried, they could never get it right. They were hopelessly in love, but hated each other all the same.

  “Look, woman,” Ian reprimanded, “we all know you’re going to do it. Stop being a fucking drama queen and just save her already. I don’t know why you make him beg every time he comes to you for help, but it’s getting old.”

  Hunter could see and feel the conflict of rage and sadness pull at Hope’s heart, but Ian’s words had been enough. A simple verbal spanking had flipped her switch and without further hesitation she nodded and closed her eyes. Hunter watched as the glowing warmth of Hope’s gift traveled from her and into the sleeping woman. The room became filled with a mixture of hope and anxiety as they all awaited the outcome. None of them knew why she was sleeping, or why it had been said that she was dead, but the mystery of this woman nagged at them all and Hunter could barely sit still. The sparks of the emotion in the air made him twitch and he finally stood, hoping to shake the feelings off enough so that it was once more bearable.

  He looked down at the woman and was again reminded of her beauty. It was intoxicating. He ached to see her open her eyes, to see her smile, to hear her voice. She was by far the most beautiful woman Hunter had ever seen and it hurt his heart to feel her pain. He stood in silence as he waited for the pain to dissipate. And then it happened.

  The woman’s skin burned with fever. Hope let out a bloodcurdling scream and her normally vibrant skin suddenly drained of all color except for what appeared to be tiny black worms that crawled under her flesh. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and trails of blood flowed from her nostrils. Hope’s body jerked, her screaming ceased, and she released the woman’s hand. Before she crumbled to the cold stone floor, Ian rushed up behind her and caught her in his arms. Hunter watched him effortlessly lift and carry her over to the oversized chair in the corner of the room and sit, cradling her and allowing her head to rest against his chest. Ian kissed her forehead and closed his eyes as he held her. The blackout was a normal side effect of Hope’s gift. She was an Extractor and when she pulled a spell or potion from someone’s body, it traveled into her so that she could absorb it and it often caused her to black out. Depending on the strength of the magic used to create the spell, Hope could sleep for days. Ian always cared for her as she recovered and always left before she woke to avoid a fight.

  Knowing that Hope was in good hands, Hunter turned his attention back to the woman. He was met with crystal-blue eyes.

  * * * *

  The tentacles that the darkness had sent for her continued to travel up Talia’s legs and firmly wrapped themselves around her thighs. They seared into her flesh as they began to drag her into the depths with them. Tears streamed down her face as she tried with all of her might to fight them off. The Veil was a blank canvas, though, and afforded her nothing to grab hold of. The more Talia wiggled and squirmed, the tighter hold the tentacles took and the hotter her flesh got. She could smell the charred scent of her skin wafting through the air and up to her nostrils, and her stomach curdled and threatened to lose control. She wasn’t ready to give up, though, and continued to thrash her body around like a fish out of water as screams of terror shattered the normal silence of the Veil.

  New tentacles appeared from the goop that was the darkness and snaked up her arms, preventing any possibility of escape that she may have had. From one of the new tentacles that held her arms, a small piece broke off on its own and began to slide up her shoulder. It burned as it slid and left a trail of freshly charred skin behin
d it. Before more screams could escape her throat, the bit of goop rolled its way up and deposited itself into her gaping mouth. More tears poured down Talia’s face as the fire from the bit of goop exploded in her mouth and flowed down her throat like lava. She fought the natural urge to swallow and knew that it would not be long before the goop had fully engulfed her.

  As the pain from the burns continued to surge through her body and down into her throat, Talia tightly closed her eyes and tried to recall the lost memory of the man she believed she once loved. If she were finally going to die, she wanted nothing more than to see his face one last time.

  A flash of white light suddenly filled her vision and Talia unintentionally gasped in surprise. To her shock, she did not choke on the burning goop that had imbedded itself in her mouth. She reached her hand up to feel for the goop and realized that she was no longer imprisoned by its tentacles.

  Talia opened her eyes and found herself once again alone in the Veil. She slowly sat up and looked around, dazed and deeply confused by the events that had so abruptly ended. Pulling herself up, she began to search her body for the char marks that the tentacles had left behind and found her flawless skin, smooth and unmarred by the burning snakes of the black goop. Searching for any hint of what had happened, Talia began to look around the Veil and found nothing. No darkness chasing her. No black goop tentacles reaching for her arms and legs. She was alone, in a perfectly untouched Veil, surrounded only by the pale, gray, cloud-like substance the made up her home.

  “What in the name of all things—”

  Before she could finish her spoken thought, a loud scream came from somewhere off in the distance and Talia felt her body once again being pulled to the floor of the Veil. It was a different sensation than having the tentacles tug on her. It was as if she was being guided to where she needed to go, and when she hit the floor, the floor did not exist. She felt the soft cloudiness of the Veil surround her body and it reminded her of the air after a spring storm. It smelled clean and fresh and Talia couldn’t help but breathe it in as she drifted through it.

  Time seemed endless as she floated through the outer layer of the Veil. All worries and sadness had left her and all she felt was a sense of peace unlike anything she had ever experienced. If her original sentence to the Veil had been like this, she would have never desired to leave.

  Another flash of light accompanied by a sudden halt in her falling caused Talia to gasp for air and open her eyes. Her vision was blurred and her eyes felt gritty and bruised, as if she had just spent all night celebrating at the town pub. Her heart pounded in her head and as she tried to regain her focus, Talia searched for the familiar gray mist that had been her prison for centuries to no avail. Nausea overtook her and she fought back the bitter tanginess that tingled on the inside of her cheeks. The last thing she wanted to do was fall victim to being ill so she closed her eyes and took in slow deep breaths. As she steadied herself, she pulled fistfuls of fabric into her hands and suddenly realized that she was gripping what felt like fine silk bedding. She released her hold and slowly ran her hands across the fabric. It was silky smooth to the touch and Talia felt overwhelmed by memories of her old bed in the palace. She had often lain in her bed, stripped of all clothing wrapped up in the sheets. She enjoyed the way the fabric felt on her skin. It was cool and sleek and always made her feel beautiful.

  Taking in another deep breath, Talia once again opened her eyes. The nausea was still present, but it had settled to the point of tolerance. Daring to push the boundaries of her senses, she glanced around the room, trying to focus her vision on anything that would tell her where she was. There were walls that surrounded her and they were made of large gray-colored stones. Hidden away behind dark, heavy curtains there appeared to be a window off in the distance and around the room were small glowing orbs that Talia assumed were flames from candles. Across the room she saw a dark mass that she swore was moving, but it did not trigger fear in her gut so she continued to scan her surroundings.

  A sudden feeling that she was being watched washed over her and Talia turned her head to see what or who was beside her. Desperate to see clearly, she blinked her eyes in an effort to force her sight. The mass beside her began to take shape and as she won the battle over her vision, the first thing she saw with perfect clarity was a pair a dark-brown eyes staring down at her.

  A jolt of surprise shook her insides and her heart picked up a few extra beats before she reminded herself that it did not feel as though fear should be ruling her emotions right now. She pulled in a long, deep breath and slowly released it to help settle her nerves. The dark eyes were laced with concern and anticipation, not malice and ill intent, so Talia attempted a smile and found her mouth was not as responsive as she had expected it to be. She could feel the corners of her lips curl up ever so slightly, but they were not displaying the elation that was growing inside of her. It had become more and more evident that Talia was no longer a prisoner in the Veil and she could feel the joy building up to the point of bursting free. She wanted to cry out and leap from the bed into the arms of whoever owned the dark eyes that continue to watch her, but she could barely move her mouth and therefore doubted her legs would do much good for her right now.

  She decided the next best thing would be verbal expression. She tried to speak, to say thank you since she assumed that the voices she had heard in the Veil belonged, at least partially, to the dark eyes, but all that came out was a poorly attempted squeak. Embarrassed, she tried to clear her throat, but found the task as equally difficult as smiling. Her throat was tight and scratchy and as she attempted to clear it, a burning sensation hinted that the goop she had nearly swallowed in the Veil had actually done real damage to her. She worried that her other injuries were visibly present and that the dark eyes were staring at her out of sorrow and pity for her state of being.

  She suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable and closed her eyes, shutting out the image of the person who sat beside her. As if in response to her emotions, Talia felt a hand take hers and another hand touch the side of her cheek.

  “Please don’t,” the voice pleaded, “There is no need to feel embarrassment.”

  Soothed by the kind tone in the man’s voice, Talia pulled in another settling breath then opened her eyes. She was met with the oddly comforting stare of a man that she realized was absolutely breathtaking. His features were perfectly chiseled, his skin had a slightly sun-kissed tone, and his black hair that attempted to be clean-cut was just messy enough to be sexy. When he smiled down at her, his full lips revealed perfect teeth and deep dimples that were set in each of his cheeks. His smile was slightly crooked and Talia felt an immediate attraction to him. He let out a little nervous chuckle and Talia’s cheeks blushed with embarrassment as she realized she was probably making him uncomfortable by staring at him. She quickly looked away and tried again to find her voice.

  She would probably have better luck if she’d had something to drink and as if on command, the man reached over to a side table, picked up a small glass of what appeared to be water, and handed it to her. With trembling fingers she accepted the glass and he helped her sit up so that she could drink. As thirsty as she was, at that very moment all she could focus on was how delicious he smelled.

  Another dimpled smiled crossed his lips and Talia realized she was staring again. She quickly gulped the water and took another deep breath. Gorgeous or not, Talia needed to focus and figure out when and where she was and how she had been saved.

  The water cooled the burning in her throat instantly, but it made her cough and when she did her entire body hurt. The fight with the goop tentacles in the Veil had left her muscles sore and her body bruised. She was thankful to not see a mirror anywhere in the room for she feared that if she saw the extent of her injuries, she might feel the need to be ill again.

  “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

  The man’s statement pulled her thoughts back from the Veil attack and she dared look back over at him, co
nfusion surely clear on her face. He cleared his throat and reached out to take the now empty glass from her hand.

  “What I mean,” he started, “is just that you should take it easy. You’ve obviously been asleep for a while and I’m sure your body is sore.”

  She knew he was lying. He must have somehow known she was attacked in the Veil, that and she was sure her injuries were not purely internal. He had to see whatever bruises and burns remained on her skin. Though she was healed while still in the Veil as soon as the tentacles disappeared, here outside of the Veil, she hurt and by the look of concern that the man was trying to hide from her, she knew she had physical injuries that he could see. She just didn’t understand why he felt the need to be dishonest about something that was so obvious. He didn’t know her, therefore there was really no need for him to feel like he had to spare her any upset. For all he knew, she could be some Evil Queen that had been locked away as punishment for her gruesome behaviors. Or worse yet, maybe she was a Faerie. Those girls were whores and took any man they wanted, with or without permission. She remembered that there had always been some sort of Faerie drama and wives who often demanded their heads after discovering they had enchanted their husbands.

  The man let out another nervous chuckle.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  The fact that her voice worked surprised her. She had decidedly refused to try to speak again until she knew she could do more than produce an annoying squeak, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her. He was reactive to the thoughts that she believed were private and she wanted to know why, so when she had spoken out loud, she had really only meant for it to be a thought in her head.

 

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