Phoenix Freed

by Elise Faber

  Not that the Dalshie’s disappearance had anything to do with the disaster she’d made of the poor, defenseless kitchen. But the squirmy feeling in her gut, the anxiousness crawling just under the surface of her skin was most certainly related to their enemy. Her gift of foresight may not have been as honed or in tune as the Oracles of the past but Daughtry couldn’t discount the sensation.

  A persistent niggling, a tapping at the back of her consciousness.

  She was missing something. She was forgetting something.

  “Or,” Cody said, reading her thoughts easily, “you just need something to distract you.” Calloused fingertips trailed down her shoulders, traced the thin spaghetti straps of her silk dress.

  She shivered. “I guess I’ll have to go find Tyler.”

  His growl was both sensual and hilarious. He knew she was joking, knew that her heart was his, but the slight tenor of possessiveness along the bond always sent a little tendril of pleasure down her spine.

  “Those blue eyes.” She gave a mock sigh, knew she was just as possessive about Cody. “I just can’t resist them.”

  “I think you mean green.”

  She smiled, stared into Cody’s amused emerald irises. “Maybe.”

  “I missed you.”

  Her heart squeezed hard, and all of the levity drained away. “Missed you too.”

  “Here.”

  The little box in her hand shouldn’t have surprised her. It was their anniversary, and Cody was a romantic. But it did surprise her and then her jaw dropped practically to the floor when Cody went down on one knee.

  “What are—?”

  “Daughtry Isabelle Galloway, I love you more than I need my next breath. You’re stitched into my heart so securely that I could never, ever let you go.” His voice went a little husky. “And despite everything, you love me back. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  Dee didn’t do surprises, didn’t like being put on the spot, and so instead of saying anything meaningful, she blurted out non-sequiturs.

  “But we’re already bonded.”

  “So?”

  “A-and we already live together.”

  Cody grasped her hands in his and opened the box. “But we’re not married, and you want to be.”

  She sputtered. “I-I—“

  “I love you.” He jiggled the box, drawing her gaze down, and she gasped. The ring ensconced in the black velvet wasn’t traditional. Oh, it had the big, honking diamond, but surrounding the glittering circular stone were rows and rows of tiny emeralds and bright purple amethysts.

  It was a visual representation of how their magic was interwoven on an almost elemental level.

  The sight made her so buoyant, so full of love for the man kneeling in front of her, that she thought she might burst.

  “I want to make an honest woman out of you,” he said. The edges of his smile looked a little forced and for the first time in a long while, Daughtry detected a hint of nerves in his mind. “I was going to do this better,” he said. “Make it special—” He started to close the box. “I’ll—”

  She was on her knees in the next heartbeat, her mouth pressed to his.

  “I’ll love you until the end of time,” she thought. “I should have just said yes.”

  “Thank God,” he thought with a laugh, and kissed her deeply.

  Eventually Cody broke away to slide the ring on her finger. “Looks good there,” he said, voice firmly controlled.

  But Daughtry felt the intense emotions in his mind. They traveled down their mental link, collided with hers and mingled. Her eyes misted.

  Being with him was right.

  “Okay,” she told him. “Go shower and—”

  Sudsy hands. Hot water streaming down her chest, trailing over her breasts. Cody’s mouth following suit. His hard body pressing her to the cool tiles.

  The images he sent across their connection had her arousal surging to instant, all-encompassing attention.

  “Or we could shower together.” He paused. “In the spirit of Earth Day, we should save water.”

  “Earth Day was three months ago.”

  His fingers wove through hers, and he tugged her into the bathroom. “I don’t care.”

  Daughtry didn’t protest, just smiled and allowed herself to be towed along. “I like the way you think.”

  His lips were on hers almost before the words were out of her mouth. Her dress on the floor a second later, peas be damned.

  And Cody followed through on every one of the images he’d projected into her mind, not to mention every single fantasy and thought that passed through hers until she was a limp, satiated pile of mush.

  Neither of them gave a damn that the pizza he’d ordered was sitting in the cafeteria getting colder by the moment.

  Twenty-Seven

  “Slower, Dee. You’ll hurt him.”

  Daughtry nodded at Suz before taking a breath and forcing herself to gentle her magic. She was still learning how to harness her powers, still tweaking her newfound ability to heal.

  The Rengalla were similar to superheroes found in comic books. Even the least powerful of their number could do primary magic, which was basically controlling the elements of earth, air, wind, and fire.

  But most Rengalla could do more.

  Secondary magic encompassed skills such as teleportation, invisibility, and, what Daughtry was trying to master, healing.

  Which was much, much harder than it seemed.

  Morgan rolled his eyes at Suz. “I’m a LexTal. That’s nothing.”

  Except for the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead and the pallid color of his skin. No doubt because she’d shoved too much of her power into his body.

  Not to mention the six-inch slash on his arm, the reason for his appearance in the infirmary in the first place.

  “You should do it,” she told Suz, dropping her magic and stepping back. As the senior healer in the Colony, Suz was their best doctor and would be able to heal the wound in seconds. “I’m hurting him.”

  And that thought made Daughtry sick. She’d harmed so many people in her twenty-five years that the idea of doing it to a friend, someone she cared about deeply—

  Fingers on hers made her jump and she had to force herself to not instinctively jerk away.

  Even after all this time, after the bond had protected her from her visions brought on by the slightest touch of another person’s skin, even though she knew that Morgan and the rest of the Rengalla had been taught to shield themselves . . . well, instincts were hard to ignore.

  But he didn’t see Morgan die, wasn’t forced to witness her friend’s last moments.

  The bond protected here.

  The knot in her stomach relaxed, and she met Morgan’s concerned hazel eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but Gabby’s voice echoed down the hall.

  “Suz!” she called. “It’s time. Carrie’s fully dilated.”

  Suz jumped to her feet and was halfway out the door before Gabby had finished yelling. “Finish this, Dee. You can do it.” She hesitated in the doorway. “Just go slowly.” Her gaze transferred to Morgan, and she smirked. “Remember, chicks dig scars.”

  Now, didn’t that just give Daughtry loads of confidence?

  A second later Suz was gone.

  Morgan scrunched back against the paper-covered table, as though he were hiding. “Is there really a woman with a baby about to pop out of h-her—” This might have been the first time she’d seen Morgan at a loss for words. “—her . . . hoo-ha in here?”

  He glanced around as though the expectant mother was going to jump out from behind a chair and force him to witness the act.

  A shriek echoed down the hall, followed by the low resonance of Suz’s voice.

  Morgan jumped a foot, and Daughtry couldn’t hold back her smile.

  “It’s called a vagina. And yes.”

  “Good God,” he ground out and nodded at the slash on his arm. “Cl
ose this up fast. I don’t give a damn about scars. Just get me the hell out of here.”

  Daughtry set to work, this time feeling much more relaxed.

  Since she’d used Bond Magic, Cody’s powers had become her own. The opposite, however, wasn’t true, or at least not that they’d found. Cody couldn’t access her powers of foresight. Francis thought it was because she was more powerful magically than her bondmate.

  In terms of the way the Rengalla categorized magic, Daughtry was at the third, or tertiary, level and Cody, who wasn’t able to use foresight, was considered to be at the secondary level.

  “Dee,” Morgan whined.

  She blinked and focused inward, tugging on the ball of magic in the back of her mind, interwoven threads of her and Cody’s magic—brilliant violet and emerald green, respectively—and called forth the slightest amount. Power slid down her spine, her arms, and burst from her palms in sparks that coalesced into a slender strand of magic that crawled over Morgan’s skin and into his wound.

  He hissed, and she almost lost her concentration.

  “Too much?”

  A shake of his head. “You’re coming in a little hot, but it’s okay.”

  And it was.

  Muscle and tendons were stitched together. Layers of dermis followed, until finally the cut was all but gone, the faintest line of pink the sole remnant of the injury’s existence.

  “That’ll do, Dee. Thanks.” He stood and all but bolted from the room. “See you later.”

  Laughing, Daughtry cleaned up the supplies and started to walk down the hall to check on Suz.

  Morgan was frozen in place, two steps from the room a few doors down.

  A door that stood wide open.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  He just shook his head. His eyes were wide, his face paler than she’d ever seen.

  Was Carrie in trouble?

  Really worried now, Dee pushed past him and into the room. “Suz? Everything okay?”

  The healer was crouched in front of Carrie, a thirty-something Rengalla who was married to one of the senior soldiers.

  “Fine,” Suz clipped out. “I just need another—Morgan!” she called. “Get your butt in here and hold Carrie’s hand.”

  “Where’s Gabby?” Daughtry asked as she glanced toward the doorway.

  Morgan peeked in, met her eyes, and shook his head. Violently.

  She nodded and narrowed her eyes. Pointed to Carrie, who was in visible pain and looking scared to boot.

  Morgan blinked. For a full five seconds.

  When he met her eyes again, she mouthed, “Man up, LexTal.”

  LexTals were the elite soldiers of the Rengalla. Tough as hell warriors who could take down their enemy without blinking.

  But apparently not comfort pregnant women.

  They were also arrogant.

  Which Daughtry should know, since she was bonded to one. But it also meant that she knew how to motivate them.

  Her taunt did the trick.

  Morgan entered the room as though it were full to the brim with landmines, but made his way to Carrie’s side and gingerly grasped her hand.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Suz will take care of—”

  The words abruptly shut off as he grimaced and, given the white-knuckled grip Carrie had on his hand, it wasn’t hard to see why.

  “Ray is on patrol,” Suz said in an undertone to Dee. “I called him, but Gabby went to hurry him up.”

  “The baby is coming now?” she asked.

  Suz nodded, but dropped her voice even lower. “Too fast. It’s breech. I’m going to need some help.”

  Daughtry nodded. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “I need you to dull her pain.” Suz’s face was set in grim lines. “Because this is going to hurt her.”

  The next ten minutes were both grueling and scary as hell.

  Daughtry had never attempted to subdue another person’s pain, but she could feel it radiating off Carrie, no matter that the other woman was trying very hard to be strong. She grasped the thread of hurt and followed it into Carrie’s mind, relieved to find a barrier underneath it all. The last thing Dee needed was to breach the other woman’s shields and pull her vision.

  A deep breath. A single tug and Carrie’s pain inundated her.

  Daughtry bit back a whimper, knowing the small amount of hurt she was siphoning off wasn’t even close to what the other woman was enduring.

  Another tentative grasp of the pain had her legs wobbling. Suz grabbed her arm and tugged her down into a chair.

  “Good,” she said. “Keep going. But not too much, Dee. I don’t want you hurting either.”

  Too late for that. And since Carrie’s pain was an intense red fog that clogged the air, Daughtry took more. But she felt like she was playing one of the driving video games that Cody loved. Too far left—too much hurt siphoned off—and she would lose her concentration. Then over-correcting too far right, not taking enough, and Carrie would cry out in agony.

  That was almost worse, and she found herself taking on more, until nausea churned in her gut and her head swam.

  “Daughtry?”

  Cody’s voice startled her, but it also gave her strength.

  “Helping Suz. Baby,” she thought to him in short bursts. All of her concentration was on Carrie and Suz.

  “Hang on,” he thought.

  Before his words processed, some of the red haze of pain faded from her mind.

  “What—?” she thought.

  “I’m here. Do what you need to.”

  Daughtry didn’t wait, just grasped on to Carrie’s pain and took as much as possible.

  It burned as it funneled through her, down the bond, and into Cody.

  He didn’t complain and neither did Carrie.

  She slumped onto the bed, breathing hard, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Almost . . . there!” Suz said, her hands working frantically over Carrie’s stomach, golden brown tendrils of magic crawling over the skin. “The baby is head down. Push with the next contraction.”

  Daughtry held on to the pain, pulling more with each contraction until finally the baby was crowning.

  Ray ran into the room at that moment and went straight to Carrie’s side.

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He took Morgan’s place, and two pushes later their baby boy was born.

  Suz glanced at Morgan. “Help Dee to her room. Gabby and I have this.”

  A minute later, he had her walking down the hall to her quarters. “I’m never going to be able to unsee that, am I?” Daughtry snorted, and the action almost made her tumble to the ground. Morgan caught her arm, steadied her.

  “I think it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Women are insane.” He shook his head. “You saw that, and you’d still want to have kids?”

  “I never thought I’d have the chance,” she told him honestly and staggered again.

  Morgan cursed as he caught her up in his arms.

  “But seeing that . . . I think one day”—Dee didn’t even fight the caveman action. Her legs were Jell-O—“I’d like it very much.”

  “I’ll never understand your sex.”

  “We’re stronger and more courageous,” she said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Good God,” Morgan said. “After witnessing that, I almost believe you.”

  Twenty-Eight

  It only took Daughtry an hour or so to recover, her magic a gentle but constant flow back into her mind.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Her lips curved up into a smile at the sound of Cody’s voice in her mind. The bond was incredibly strong these days, and even though he’d left that morning to assist John with a mission on the other side of the state, his words were crystal clear.

  Yet, despite his presence in her brain, her heart still wanted him near.

  “Is it pathetic that I miss you?” she thought to him. “We’ve been apar
t for all of twelve hours.”

  His smile in her mind was a tangible thing. “No.”

  She laughed aloud and pushed herself up from the couch where she’d collapsed. Morgan had carried her inside then put on the only movie she could watch on repeat, Die Hard. The sound of gunshots echoed through the room.

  “Is that an alpha male thing?”

  “Probably,” he thought. “Sorry, I wasn’t in the Colony to help you.”

  Daughtry remembered the feel of him siphoning the pain from her mind, enabling her to stay focused and clear enough to help Carrie. It had made all the difference . . . and so she told him so, with words, with thoughts, with a big burst of love across their connection.

  Then she hustled into their kitchen. Suz and Gabby were coming over for a girls’ night, and it was her turn for the main course.

  Heaven help them, she thought and started perusing the cabinets.

  She decided to keep it simple: spaghetti and meatballs. Okay no, that wasn’t exactly simple, but she’d use jarred sauce and skip the meatballs.

  Good enough.

  Her friends knew better than to have her cook, but Daughtry figured that Suz and Gabby enjoyed the fact that she literally burned something every single time she cooked.

  Thank God they hadn’t asked her to make cookies.

  Her heart pulsed in memory of Cody bringing her a box of cookies, handmade and misshapen and filled with love. That had been the turning point for them in their relationship. The moment when they’d both taken the final leap and decided to accept what was and what could be.

  Which was insanely happy and fulfilled.

  A surge of love flowed down the bond, covering her mind like a cuddly blanket.

  Their bond was like that. Often in the background, unless she and Cody were having a conversation, but occasionally he’d send her a mental “hug” or “kiss,” and it would rush straight to the front of her mind.

  And Daughtry would remember that she never had to be alone again.

  Heart full, she bent and pulled a pot from a drawer, plunking it on the stove and cranking the burner to high.

  She and Cody had been the first pair to bond in nearly five hundred years, the ability thought lost to the Rengalla altogether.