K: The Awakening (The Shadow Chronicles Book 1)

by K. R. Fajardo

  She took a deep breath and opened the door, her mother’s clothes hung from the bar undisturbed with a line of three drawers below. Citera took one of the shirts into her hand and pulled it to her face, breathing in the scent of her mother that still lingered on them. She smiled as she flipped one by one through each piece, picturing the last time she saw her in each one.

  Enough memories, time to focus, she thought to herself as she scanned over dresses and skirts. K doesn’t seem like a dress type. She continued sorting through the clothes until she came to a pair of leggings her mother had hardly used; she preferred the skirts and dresses. She pulled them out and dug around some more, coming across a mourning blouse, black with detailed embroidering on the shoulders running down its long sleeves.

  Citera placed the clothes on the bed, and stepped back.

  “Looks good to me.”

  Citera jumped as K’s voice startled her from behind. “I think they should fit you fairly well, but they may still be a bit loose,” she remarked, clutching a hand over her pounding heart. Turning around, she found K standing in the doorway with the towels wrapped around her body and hair. She struggled to keep from staring at the pattern of dots that also appeared to be burns, as they moved from the center of her chest toward her collarbone on both sides.

  “I bet you feel better?” Citera asked, half laughing. “You look a lot better.”

  K’s mouth curved up as she moved across the room to the bed. “You have no idea, and you probably don’t have any hot water left.”

  “It builds up pretty quick, and its day time so the solar panel should be fully charged. Anyway, I’ll step outside while you get dressed,” Citera said, stepping through the door and closing it behind her.

  After a few moments K called through the door, “You can come back.”

  Citera cracked the door open and peeked inside; K stood in the middle of the room wearing the leggings and the shirt, which fit her well other than being slightly baggy around her thin frame. She no longer resembled the helpless, weak girl Rigar had dragged from a cave less than two weeks ago, instead before her stood a strong, battle tried woman with all the scars to prove it.

  “Well, what do you think?” K asked. “They are a little big, but once I’m back to normal they should fit perfectly.”

  “You look great, but it would look better without that,” she laughed, pointing to the towel still wrapped around her head.

  “Yes I suppose it would.” K smiled, reaching up and touching the towel. “I hate to keep bothering you, but do you have a brush? It’s quite a mess up there.”

  Citera walked over to the wardrobe, pulled out one of her mom’s brushes, and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

  “I promise, I won’t bother you much longer,” K said, unwrapping the towel. As the last twist fell loose it released a cascade of hair that fell down well past K’s shoulders. Once again Citera was left standing with a dumfounded look on her face. Mouth gaped and eyes wide, K laughed at the young girl’s inability to hide her emotions.

  “You know, child, remind me never to have you at my side in any situation that requires bluffing. You and your expressions are a dead giveaway, but I really do enjoy them.”

  “Your hair,” was all she could manage to say, as K took the brush from her hand and began to pull it through layer upon layer of curls. Citera had never seen hair that curled back on itself in such away; with each pull of the brush it rebounded back into its position much like the curls in a grape vine. However, it was the color that really had her undivided attention, for now that the dirt and blood had been washed away what was left behind was the most gorgeous head full of platinum white hair she had ever seen. It was so pure and devoid of color that the brightness of it in the light of the room was near blinding.

  “It’s white,” Citera whispered under her breath.

  “Yes, I know.” K laughed as she continued to pull the brush through the long strands. “I am very old after all.”

  “But Full-bloods don’t get white hair,” Citera argued, “they all have black or brown hair. Only a Terrian’s hair changes color as we age.”

  “I’m messing with you,” K replied, still obviously amused by her shock. “My hair has been this color since I was born, and it’s caused me a lot of problems, too.”

  “But why?” The question was ridiculous she knew—I mean, after all why was her hair the color it was—but it was all she could think of to ask. She was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it, and continued watching as K ran the brush through the mass of curls that fell onto her back in layers.

  “Who knows,” she answered, finishing up, “perhaps I did something wrong in another life and this was my punishment.” She handed the brush back to Citera. “All done, shall we go back downstairs?”

  “Sure.” Citera was more than happy to change the subject, and was about to lead the way when she noticed something. “Wait, you don’t have any shoes,” she said, jumping back into her mother’s clothes and pulling out a pair of her loafers. Holding them up in the air and looking over to K, she shook her head. “No, that won’t work, follow me.” She strolled across to her room and dug into her closet before removing a pair of black leather boots. “This will be better.” She said handing them to K, who had followed in behind her.

  “Are you sure?” K asked, furrowing her brow as she took the boots. “They look like a nice pair, I’d hate to take your things.”

  Citera shook her head. “I never use them, besides I think they will look better on you.”

  K sat down and slipped them on. “They fit perfectly,” she said, smiling. “We must be about the same size. How old are you anyway?”

  The abruptness of the question caused her to hesitate for a moment, and she tried to remember the answer. “I’m sixteen. Why, how old are you?”

  K let out a laugh that Citera was sure they heard downstairs. “Now that is a question,” she said, standing and heading out toward the hall, “that will have to remain unanswered for the time being. Let’s just say I was only a little older than you are when I quit aging and leave it at that.”

  She headed down the hall toward the kitchen with Citera following close behind. As they passed the kitchen, K hesitated when she caught a whiff of the aromas from Jaron’s breakfast feast. “I smell coffee.”

  These two are strange, Citera thought as she led K into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee for K and herself, watching fascinated as K took a sip of the warm liquid.

  “Now that is good,” she remarked as she savored another sip, “like Jaron used to make me.”

  “Well, he made this, too,” Citera stated, pointing at the rest of the breakfast still laid out on the table.

  “He made all this today?”

  “Yes, while he left my dad alone with the Enforcer.”

  K looked over the table at it all before picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite. “Why do you call him that?”

  Citera puzzled by the question, hesitated a moment. “The Enforcer? I don’t know, that’s what everyone calls him … because of what he does I suppose. You know, enforcing the laws of the Shadows. I didn’t even know he had a real name until yesterday.”

  K continued eating as she thought on this for a moment. “I see. Let’s just hope it isn’t too late to prevent the persona from becoming the person.” She finished off the last bite of toast and picked up her coffee. “Let’s go.”

  Citera assisted K slowly down the stairs; going down seeming to be much harder on her than going up had been, either that or she was worn out from all the activity. Once they reached the bottom, K stared into the room where Jarod was resting quietly. “Thanks again for all your help. But if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to talk to him alone for a minute or two.”

  “Of course. I should go help my dad anyway, there is a lot of catching up to do,” she agreed, following her gaze to the Enforcer lying fixed in the same position. “Good luck.”

  K nodded slightly then walked into the room, st
opping momentarily to watch Citera as she trotted down the hall before pausing to smile at her as she closed the door. Innocence, she thought as she made her way to a chair beside the bed, such a precious gift that is so easily lost.

  It felt comfortable to sit down for a moment, her legs relishing the break. Her exhaustion from such slight activities was a testament to just how close this last capture had taken her to the brink. Meanwhile, Jarod lay silently in the bed, eyes closed, seemingly unaware of her presence. Carefully she lifted her cup of coffee to her mouth and took another sip. “Feeling any better?” she asked over the top of her cup.

  Jarod turned his gaze to her and immediately spun his feet around, eyes wide. “My l-lady, y-you look … beautiful.”

  She sat there sipping on her coffee, enjoying him stammering over his words. “Thank you, but this will most likely be the last time you see me this way. Once I have fed again, I will be able to maintain a mask. Actually that’s why I came in here, I need a favor.”

  “Anything. Whatever you need,” he was trying his best to hide his obvious captivation with her new appearance, “just ask.”

  “I need to feed, it’s the only way I can quit stumbling around like a drunken fool. I want you to take me out tomorrow in the early hours to hunt. You should be back to normal by then … mostly anyway.” She paused as she took another sip.

  “Hunt? I had planned to leave before sunrise, but I suppose it can wait a few hours.” Jarod paused as his mind worked to form a plan, but in all honesty the request had caught him completely off guard. “There are a large amount of patrols in his town, and with recent events they will most likely be out in full force. Then there is the matter of the curfew and your unique appearance.”

  “I thought you would do anything for me,” K teased with a grin. “Don’t tell me you are afraid of a little early morning escapade. I figured you would be more likely to help than Jaron, as he has a weak constitution for this sort of thing. And, might I add, I would much rather have you by my side in case something goes wrong.” She glanced around, and noticing for the first time that Jaron wasn’t in the room added, “Where is he anyway?”

  “He went to help Mikel, mumbling something about idle hands. He never could stay still,” he replied, leaning back on his hands. “And to answer your question, I would be honored to go with you, I was only trying to think of the best way to go about it. I don’t suppose you would care to partake of one of the Terrians that’s already here, or perhaps drain Jaron again, it would be much easier.”

  “I will do no such thing,” the suggestion alone appeared to have been insulting, “I’m not a complete monster. Besides, I kind of like them, they seem to be good people, and I owe them. Honestly, I prefer to use donors, much like Jaron, but seeing as I’m sure they are rare if not extinct in this time, I suppose I will have to settle for someone of a corrupt nature. And as for Jaron, it’s way too soon, he hasn’t had enough time to build up his stores. No, I’m afraid you are stuck taking me out.”

  “Then in the early hours, while everyone is asleep, we will go see what we can find.”

  “Wonderful,” K said, taking another sip of the warm liquid. Slowly an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room as the two of them sat quietly staring at the other. It was clear to K he had something weighing on his mind, but for whatever reason, he was hesitant to ask. So she waited patiently, allowing him the time he needed to build up the nerve and after a few more quiet moments, he finally spoke.

  “Can I ask you something, while we are alone?” he asked cautiously.

  “By all means,” she replied, leaning back into the chair and making herself comfortable.

  There was definitely an allure to her, the way she moved, the way she talked, everything about her drew, him in. He pushed the thoughts back down trying to clear his mind. “How do you maintain control over the emotions?” he inquired, studying the scar over her eye. “You made me what I am, so I can’t help but feel that part of this anger and hatred I have stems from the blood you gave me.” He hesitated, unsure if she was going to take offense to what he was saying.

  K however remained calm, continuing to sip the liquid from the cup and staring at him in a way that made him both comfortable and nervous at the same time.

  “It’s just, I know you have endured so much more than I ever will, yet you still manage to stay in control. Does the anger and hopelessness not tear at you from the inside?” He paused, taking a deep breath, casting his gaze to the floor. “Meanwhile, I can’t figure out how to stop myself from trying to kill a small girl over nothing more than words.”

  K took another sip then set the cup on the floor before she stood and walked toward him. A twinge of fear crept in him as she moved closer and closer in a stride that reminded him of a predator stalking its prey. She stopped inches from him and he flinched as she placed her hands on the outside of his thighs and leaned in close. “I have my ways,” she whispered. “Now let me ask you a question,” Jarod froze, as she moved her hands up the outside of his legs while her piercing blue eyes scanned over him, “what do you see when you look at me?”

  “What do you mean?” He leaned back, trying to put as much space between him and her as he could; there was nothing about this situation that he felt good about. “I see the person who made me what I am, Jaron as well. We owe you everything and that’s why we have worked so hard to find you.”

  She had an expression on her face that he was finding very concerning as she continued to move in closer and closer until she was virtually on top of him. He could feel the warmth of her breath as it skimmed that sensitive area on the side of his neck as a combination of fear and desire churned in his core. He was struggling to maintain control. “Please, my lady, what do you want me to say?” he breathed as she continued to push his limits.

  “Do I frighten you?” Her voice icy and cold while she spoke.

  His heart was pounding out of his chest; he knew very well what she was capable of and with him still in this debilitated state there wasn’t much he could do about. “Well?” she asked, her face only inches away from his.

  “Yes,” he finally answered, praying it was the correct response.

  “And why do you think that is?” She smiled, allowing him to see the outline of her fangs.

  “Because I know what you are capable of and I have no idea what you want from me right now.”

  She backed slowly away, the grin on her face made it obvious she was making a point. Then to his surprise she jumped up on the bed beside him. “Exactly. You know me, but what about those who don’t?” She sat beside him, swinging her legs back and forth off the side of the bed. “People look at you and they know immediately what you are capable of doing, your presence alone demanding respect. Because of that you have never been forced to learn a way to suppress and control your rage, you haven’t needed to. If something or someone challenged or threatened you, you dealt with them easily using your strength and appearance to intimidate and instill fear. The Shadows used this to their advantage, putting you through unrelenting training and conditioning to further suppress the rational side of you. The problem with that is if you live that way for too long, you risk the rage consuming completely.”

  She had relaxed her posture, as she picked up his hand and ran her finger over the scar on the back. “I, on the other hand, have had to come up with other methods for dealing with and instilling fear into those who might otherwise do me harm. You see, when you are born a woman, people see you first and foremost as weak. I could go around yelling and threatening people all day long, but the truth of the matter is, my delicate stature is not much use when it comes to intimidation, so I have had to develop a more passive way of dealing with enemies.” She continued to move her hand over his and up his arm onto his shoulder. The more she touched him, the more nervous he became, feeling himself being drawn into her seduction little by little.

  “At first glance, they see me and they see a victim—a small, thin-framed woman easy for the taking
—so I use that to my advantage. I allow them to see what they want to see, a defenseless, helpless woman, someone easy to take advantage of.” She ran her hand down the back of his arm to the top of his thigh. Instinctually he caught his breath and held it as she continued to caress the top of his leg gently. “And once they think they have me right where they want me,” in a flash she leapt on top of him, pushing him onto the bed and pinning him there with such a force that it knocked the wind from his lungs, “I really have them exactly where I want them.”

  She sat straddling his abdomen with both his hands and arms pinned beneath her legs. His emotions were running amok as she ran her hands under his shirt and across his bare chest. Despite the vast difference in size and her weakened state, he could not break his arms free and was forced to lay there as she continued making her point extremely clear … she was in control.

  Looking upon her face, her eyes had turned a darker, richer shade of blue. “So, Jarod,” she asked, sitting back comfortably but maintaining her pin, “are you having any thoughts about breaking my rule again?”

  “What? No, of course not!” he answered, still struggling to free his arms.

  She smiled, and leaned forward, pressing her body against him as she whispered into his ear, “Are you sure?”

  She shifted slightly, freeing his hands one at a time, but her face remained only inches from his. His first urge was to push her away, but he couldn’t; he knew the rule she was referring to all too well, and to put his hands on her in any way without her permission was considered the highest form of treason.

  Desperate to figure a way out of this situation, he decided to try and talk his way out like he did so often with the Shadows. “K, I don’t know what you …” he began, but before he could finish the sentence she leaned in and locked her lips with his in a kiss full of passion and desire.

  He felt as if his body had been set a blaze, and though everything in him screamed to take ahold of her, to pull her into him, and bring her tighter against his body, he fought it down, choosing instead to grab ahold to the side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he let his body relax as she ran her hands gently over the muscles of his chest and arms while she deepened the kiss. Pain, anger, desire, and loneliness flowed into him from her touch, and though it took every measure of control he had, he kept his hands at his sides gripping the edge of the bed, the metal cutting deep into his palms.