Storm and Fury

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  “You won?” He grinned down at me.

  I tried to kick out with my legs, but the iron strength of his thighs pinned them to the floor. When I lifted my upper body to throw him off balance, he quickly forced me back with pure, brute strength, catching and trapping my wrists on the mat above my head.

  “Speed and intelligence will get you far,” he said, lowering his head so close to mine that the edges of his hair brushed my cheek. “But speed, intelligence and strength always wins in the end.”

  Not ready to admit defeat, I threw my head back as I managed to wiggle one leg out from underneath him. I was ready to plant my foot somewhere sensitive, but getting my leg free caused something entirely unexpected to happen. His body shifted and settled between my legs, lining our bodies up in a very interesting place. His lean torso and legs pressed against mine in a way that made me think of other things—things that didn’t involve fighting, but did include less clothing.

  With his face inches from mine, our eyes met. I stopped moving. I might’ve stopped breathing.

  There was a swift change in the atmosphere around us, a sudden charge of heady tension as a wild rush of desire swirled through me, clawing to break free. It reminded me of my grace when it lit up my veins, burning through skin and tissue.

  Breathing became difficult as we continued to stare at one another. Zayne didn’t move off me, and I thought he would’ve by now, but he was still above me, those pupils continuing to stretch. His full lips parted.

  I...I wanted him.

  I’d never really felt desire before, but it was burning me up from the inside. Want. Need. This was what had been missing when I’d kissed someone before. This was what yearning really felt like, and as I lifted my head off the mat, bringing our mouths so close that I could taste his breath on my lips, I thought I might drown in it. Zayne didn’t pull away. Instead, it seemed as if he became even more still.

  I kissed him.

  It wasn’t much of a kiss at first, just a brushing of my lips against his, and when he didn’t move, I pressed harder, feeling a shivery rush at the touch of our mouths all the way to the tips of my toes. I touched his lips with the tip of my tongue, licking him.

  His hands tightened around my wrists and then loosened. A stuttered heartbeat later, his hands moved, sliding down my arms, the rough calluses along his palms causing my breath to catch.

  And then I wasn’t the only one doing the kissing.

  Zayne pressed down, his warm lips moving against mine for the briefest, hottest second, and then he was gone.

  Zayne tore himself away from me, crouching on the balls of his feet, breathing heavy as his skin darkened, hardened. I couldn’t see his eyes any longer, but I knew the pupils of his eyes were vertical.

  He was beginning to shift, and I...

  Sitting up, I scooted back as I dragged in deep breaths. What had I just done? I’d kissed him. Well, actually, I sort of licked him, and he was staring at me like I’d done just that.

  Holy crap.

  My entire body felt like it turned beet red as I sprang to my feet, unsteady and dizzy. “I’m sorry,” I said, backing up. “I...I didn’t mean to do that.”

  He rose slowly, watching me like I was a wild animal capable of pouncing on him at any given second.

  “I really am sorry—” I spun around, and to my horror, I saw Misha standing in the doorway, one hand holding open the door.

  I darted across the mats to the door without looking back, not even once as I slipped past Misha and into the much cooler hallway.

  Holy crap, I kissed Zayne.

  I kissed him, and he’d launched himself off me like a rocket was secured to his waist.

  “Trinity,” Misha called out to me.

  I kept walking fast, hands opening and closing at my sides. What had I been thinking?

  Misha caught up to me. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” I said, drawing in a shaky breath. “Absolutely nothing.”

  14

  “You...you kissed him?” Jada asked, her voice muffled from the other side of the bathroom door. “When I left you guys yesterday, I figured you two would just, I don’t know, continue to argue-flirt. You’ve exceeded my expectations yet again.”

  Standing in front of the mirror, I tried to tug the bodice of the borrowed dress up, but the moment I let go, it slipped down, giving me cleavage for days and then some.

  I sighed, giving up. The white dress was also a little snug in the hips, but it was the perfect length and fit everyplace else. It was going to have to do since Jada was threatening to drag me to the final ceremony no matter what I wore.

  Reaching behind me, I scooped up my hair and brought the thick strands over my bare shoulders. Not bad. That hid the fact that my arm was nearly healed, which was suspicious as all Hell, plus the hair kind of covered up the chest area.

  Kind of.

  “Trinity?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, probably smudging the mascara I’d stolen from Jada’s room. A huge part of me wished I hadn’t said anything to Jada, but I’d had to tell someone.

  I’d have self-imploded if I hadn’t told her.

  “I kissed him,” I said, opening my eyes and reaching for a tube of peach-colored lipstick.

  “And did he kiss you back?” she asked.

  “I...don’t know.” I slid off the cap.

  There was a pause. “How do you not know that, Trin?”

  “Well, at first, I thought he did, but now, the more I think about it, I’m not sure.” I smoothed the lipstick on and pressed my lips together. “I mean, it was a quick kiss.” Entirely too brief, but I could still remember the feel of his mouth against mine. “And he sort of launched himself off me.”

  There was a long quiet moment. “Did he say anything?”

  “No.” I sighed again, feeling confused and ashamed and angry, which really wasn’t a good combination.

  I hadn’t seen Zayne since yesterday afternoon. The blades and the sunglasses I’d left in the training room had magically appeared this morning on the kitchen island. Either Zayne had returned them or Misha had retrieved them.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jada said finally.

  “Yeah, me, neither.” I opened the bathroom door. “How do I look?”

  “Amazing.” Jada was the one who looked stunning in a white Grecian gown with a golden ribbon tied around her slim waist. “Good enough to actually kiss you back.”

  I blinked slowly at her.

  “Can you guys stop talking about kissing?”

  Gasping, I sidestepped Jada and saw Misha sitting on the edge of my bed, dressed in black linen pants and a matching sleeveless tunic-style shirt. “How long have you been in here?”

  “Long enough to know why you ran out of the training room with your face on fire.”

  “I hate you,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

  “You might not want to do that,” Jada advised, eyeing my chest. “You’ll burst a seam or two.”

  Rolling my eyes, I unfolded my arms. “I hate both of you.”

  “We’re not the one running around randomly kissing guys,” Misha remarked.

  “I’m not, either!”

  “Look, this is not the same thing as with Clay,” Jada said, defendeding me. “She didn’t kick Zayne through a window afterward.”

  I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut. “Well, I kind of kicked him several times before the kiss.”

  Misha’s brows lifted. “Why are you so violent?”

  I raised my hands, then dropped them. “I need serious help.”

  Still sitting on my bed, Misha nodded somberly.

  “You guys don’t understand, though,” I said, feeling whiny beyond belief as I looked at Jada. “You have Ty.” And then I turned to Misha. “And you’re starting something with Alina. Thierry has Ma
tthew, and I know you think Zayne’s a bad dude,” I said to Misha, “but I don’t think he is, and I just want... I just want a smidgen of that. I want to be...”

  You’re a weapon, Trinity.

  “What?” Jada asked quietly.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

  “No, it’s not nothing.” Jada blocked my path, becoming an immovable force. “What do you want?”

  I was trained to fight—to kill when necessary. I had the grace, a powerful weapon that could slay demons and Wardens and everything in between. I’d been a weapon since birth, and very few things scared me, but I didn’t have the courage to say what I wanted.

  Which was to be wanted for anything other than what I was born for.

  Misha rose from the bed, swinging an arm over my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go or we’re going to be late.”

  For a moment, I didn’t think Jada was going to relent, but she nodded and turned with a graceful swirl of her skirts. After guiding me out of my room, Misha stopped us at the top of the stairs and I prepared myself for a massive lecture. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper against my ear.

  “I know what you want,” he said, squeezing me against his side. “You want to be wanted, and there’s nothing wrong with that, Trin. Not at all.”

  * * *

  There was a spirit in the Great Hall.

  I knew he was definitely not on Team Alive and Breathing because his body was doing the whole flicker in and out thing, and although he was standing directly behind Dez and Nicolai, they were unaware of the man, going so far as to push their chairs through the spirit more than once.

  Dez and Nicolai sat directly across from us, on the opposite side of the wide table. There was a chair empty on the other side of Nicolai, and if I’d had any hopes that Zayne would show—which I didn’t—I would’ve been disappointed.

  He wasn’t coming to the ceremony.

  Not that I was surprised. He’d said this wasn’t his kind of thing, and if he’d caught wind of me showing, I couldn’t blame him for being anywhere but here.

  I felt like such an idiot—an idiot who didn’t understand personal boundaries. Blowing out an exaggerated breath, I told myself it didn’t matter.

  The Wardens from DC would be gone tomorrow, leaving with the reinforcements they needed. Everything would return to normal in the morning—well, as normal as things could be, but with Zayne gone, I’d stop... I’d stop wanting what I couldn’t have.

  As I toyed with the edge of my napkin, my gaze shifted back to the spirit. He was still standing behind Dez and Nicolai, as if he were a part of their conversation.

  It was so bizarre. The spirit had a vague sense of familiarity about him, but I’d never seen the older man before. Was he connected to Dez and Nicolai somehow? Or was it someone else here?

  Either way, as I cautiously watched him, I knew that he’d definitely seen the light and crossed over. His skin tone was a healthy gold, and if he wasn’t doing that flickering thing, he’d look human, which was why, sometimes with my eyes, I often mistook spirits for living, breathing people.

  He was a handsome man with a head full of reddish blond hair that reminded me of a lion. He was big and broad of shoulder, and I imagined if he were alive, he would’ve drawn the attention of everyone here.

  Had he been a Warden? It wasn’t impossible. I’d seen a few Warden spirits before.

  Someone laughed.

  Pulling my gaze from the spirit, I glanced at the head of the table. Thierry was meeting with someone, so the seat was empty. Matthew was sitting there beside Jada and her mother, his reddish hair a fiery sight in the bright lights of the hall.

  I looked back at the spirit. He was staring at the entrance, brows knitted.

  “What do you keep looking at, Trinity?” Dez asked.

  Oh, crap.

  Apparently I wasn’t being as inconspicuous as I thought. Since I didn’t know if Nicolai or Zayne had filled Dez in the whole I see dead people thing, I forced a smile. “Nothing. Just dazed out.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Is the dinner that boring?”

  I pursed my lips. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

  Dez chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Not in the slightest.”

  Grinning, I glanced at the stage. Thierry had already given his speech, toting the skills and successes of those Wardens receiving the Accolade. We still had the trainers’ speeches to sit through, and then there’d be dancing.

  Misha draped his arm along the back of my chair and angled his body toward mine, lowering his chin. “What are you looking at?” he whispered.

  I lowered my gaze. “You don’t want to know.”

  “A ghost? Peanut?”

  I shook my head.

  He was quiet for a moment. “A spirit?”

  “Yep.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured, looking to where the spirit had been but now was gone.

  What the...?

  Scanning the large, brightly lit room and the marble-adorned, cream-colored walls, I finally spotted him in the center of the room.

  Seizing the opportunity for distraction, I scooted my chair out. “I’ll be right back.”

  Misha gripped the arms of his chair, about to rise, but I stopped him.

  “You don’t need to come,” I told him, aware that both Dez and Nicolai were watching us. “I’m going to the restroom.”

  A look of doubt crossed his face, but he sat back down, knowing if he followed now, it would look superweird. I grinned at him, imagining the string of curses he was coming up with as I nodded at the two Wardens across from me.

  I was careful not to walk into the tables the spirit drifted through while the occupants were straightening their dishes and candles, expressing their confusion in exclamations.

  I picked up my pace, passing two warriors in training waiting by the doors. Out in the much more softly lit hallway, I looked both ways. There were people out here chatting in small groups. It took a few moments, but I saw the spirit once more at the end of the hall, by the doors that led to the garden. A second later, he drifted right through them.

  Clutching the skirt of my dress so I didn’t trip, I made my way down the hall and stopped at the doors. The garden was lit only by warm string lights and torches. What was worse for my eyesight than an extremely bright room?

  Minimal to no light.

  I sighed, using my hip to open the door, and stepped onto the veranda into the warm, early-June air. My steps were cautious, as I remembered that there were stairs. My depth perception wasn’t the greatest at night. Slowly, I made my way down to the paved walkway.

  I didn’t hear anyone outside as I followed the path, wondering if I would even be able to see the spirit out here.

  Passing what appeared to be several empty benches, I followed the curve of the path and was surprised when I discovered it flowed into an open area that was well-lit by several old-fashioned-looking lamps. There was a statue in the middle, a battle angel lifting a sword high with one arm and gripping the head of a demon in the other hand.

  I walked around the statue only to draw up short when I spotted the spirit on the other side. My heart gave a little jump, like it always did when I was this close to a ghost or spirit, no matter how many times I’d seen one.

  He was staring at the statue, and now that we were closer, I couldn’t shake the familiarity of his features. Maybe I had seen him before, when he’d been alive.

  Letting go of the skirt of my gown, I glanced around. I didn’t hear anyone else out here, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t.

  I bit down on my thumbnail, curiosity leading me into a state of recklessness.

  I ignored the way my stomach churned. It was an odd reaction to the presence of the spirit, one I didn’t understand, so I shoved that aside to dwell on later—


  “Hello,” the spirit said.

  Jolted, I took a step back as the spirit turned to me and, from the waist down, became transparent. I felt my eyes go wide. “You know I can see you?”

  “Why would you think that I wouldn’t?”

  “Because you’re dead?” I suggested.

  One side of his lips twitched into a half grin that raised tiny goose bumps all over my arms. “Yes, but I’m not the first spirit you’ve seen.”

  “No,” I said. “Not even remotely. How do you know that?”

  The spirit studied me for a moment. “I just do.”

  “That’s a vague answer,” I said. “How about I ask you another. You’ve crossed over, right?” When he nodded, I wrapped my arms around my waist against the cool mountain breeze rolling through the garden, stirring the leaves. “But you’re back.”

  “I am.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I prodded. “Why are you back?”

  The faint smile faded as he looked up at the statue. “I wanted to see.”

  My brows knitted together. “See what?”

  Several moments passed before he said, “See how badly I messed up.”

  Understanding flickered through me. This spirit was back because he regretted something he’d done or should’ve done, or something he’d said or wished he’d said.

  I could help him with this.

  “You’re a Warden, aren’t you?” I asked.

  The spirit nodded. “And you...you are not a Warden.”

  “No.”

  He looked down at me, his face almost going transparent. “I know who you are.”

  Startled by that statement, I didn’t know what to say. I’d never come across a spirit or a ghost who knew who I was. Had he lived here? Maybe when I was younger? “You do?”

  “Being dead makes some things so much clearer while other things not so much.” He faced me fully, his features becoming sharper, clearer. “Now I know why I came back right now, at this moment.”

  A shiver curled its way down my spine.

  “Funny how fate has a way of righting itself against all odds, isn’t it?”