Shadow's Awakening: The Shadow Warder Series, Book One (An Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (15 page)

A clearing surrounded the cabin. Uneven ground covered with patchy grass and scrub stretched no more than fifty feet in every direction before the earth either dropped off or rose up into the mountain. Given what Hannah had seen of the area, they were lucky to have this much flat land to work with. Conner faced her at a distance of fifteen feet or so, waiting.

Hannah zipped her gray sweatshirt and considered pulling up the hood. It was chilly in the mountains. In the foothills where she’d grown up, early spring days could be warm or brisk. In the highlands, there was still a bite of winter in the air. She wiggled her icy toes and looked ruefully at her almost bare feet in pink flip flops. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

“Ready?” Conner asked. Hannah nodded her assent. “I shifted the wards out, so we should be able to move without going out of the boundary.”

“Is it safe to be outside? Are they close?” Hannah looked over her shoulder before she could stop herself.

“If I thought they were, we’d be long gone. I’m just being careful.”

“Okay. I’m ready,” Hannah said. “Should I just walk backward?”

“Look where you’re going—but yeah. Let me know if you feel anything.”

Hannah glanced behind her. No obstacles, just mostly level ground covered in patchy grass. She took a few steps backward. Nothing. Another few steps, senses tuned for the slightest shift. Still nothing. Her head was clear, body strong. Most of her bruising had faded. Her jaw was mildly tender. Amazing what a good meal and a night of uninterrupted sleep could do.

Three more steps and the distance between Hannah and Conner stretched to fill most of the clearing. Conner watched her, weight on the balls of his feet, ready to move if she needed him. Hannah took another step and felt her foot shift, almost turning her ankle. The earth beneath her flip flops was more uneven as it approached the rising side of the mountain. Was there a faint fuzziness in the back of her head, or was she just hyper-alert? It wasn’t strong enough to be sure.

“This is going to take too long,” she said. “Turn around and walk away slowly. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Okay. I’ll count off steps. I don’t want you to get too close to the boundary of the wards.”

Now facing the dense woods blanketing the mountainside, Hannah waited. Conner began to count aloud in his clear, firm voice. It took a few more steps before she noticed it. A pulling sensation, as if a bungee cord connected to her chest tugged her gently backward. Toward Conner. Weird. But not the static. She could work through the odd tugging, as long as the static didn’t come back. Trying to keep her awareness open to any other changes, she continued to move forward in time with Conner’s increasingly distant count.

Both hands gripping a half-buried tree root for balance, Hannah climbed another foot up the steep incline. So focused on moving away from Conner, on fighting the feeling of being pulled in the wrong direction, she didn’t notice the faint buzz in her head until it grew strong enough to echo with the first touch of physical pain.

Hannah’s stomach lurched in surprise and panic. She hadn’t realized how blessedly sweet a clear mind had been. The tiniest hint of the static coming back and already she was drowning. Sadly familiar, the disorienting, humming confusion muffled all rational thought. The soft tugging on her chest broke away as the static flooded back, as confusing and painful as ever. Hannah fought it, pushing her body further from Conner, trying to control her rising fear.

She forced herself to draw a deep breath, the cold mountain air burning her lungs. She was not going to panic. The point of the experiment was to bring the static back. She should be relieved that it seemed to be working. Hannah took a few more steps. Conner’s measured count was forgotten as the static grew in strength, spreading to crowd every part of her mind with its insidious buzz. Another harshly drawn breath. Then another. She bolted a few more feet away from Conner, scrambling up the rising ground. With each step the mess in her head got worse, sucking her deep into its unrelenting drone. When she could take no more, Hannah sank to the cold, damp earth and leaned back against the steep hillside, cheek resting against a flat rock, knees tight to her chest.

A voice echoed, calling her name. Hannah tried to lift her head, fighting the disorientation. Her cheeks were chilled and damp with tears. The static began to dissipate as quickly as it had invaded, flowing away and leaving her drained but able to think. The beat of Conner’s footsteps pounded closer.

“Hannah! Hannah! What happened?” Anxiety sharpened his words, cutting through to the center of Hannah’s mind. She heard and felt the thump of Conner’s knees hitting the hillside by her hip. Warm, strong hands pulled her across Conner’s thighs into his arms, cradling her limp body to his chest.

Heat sank into her cold limbs, warming her body as he anchored her soul. Hannah didn’t understand how it could be, but Conner was the key to driving the static away. Even now, seconds after he touched her, Hannah’s mind was clearing. Conner was the hot sun that ate the static fog. His big hands were gentle as he wiped streaked tears from her clammy cheeks. Eyelids fluttering before they fully opened, Hannah’s gaze met his after several heartbeats and he let out a breath.

“What happened?” he asked again, his voice strained.

“It came back,” she said. “Just a little when I was at the edge of the grass, then worse the farther I went up the hill. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“You scared the hell out of me.” Conner took her face in his hands, holding her away to examine her eyes. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him, because he let out another gusting breath and pulled Hannah back to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Why didn’t you stop when you felt it coming back? You weren’t supposed to hurt yourself.”

“I wanted to make sure,” she whispered into his throat. His pulse beat strong against her cheek, thumping beneath damp golden skin with a vitality that calmed Hannah’s ragged mind. “I had to know.” She stopped, still trying to steady her breath.

Conner was warm and solid against her, his heat seeping into her, chasing away the chill of fear and cold ground. Conner seemed content to hold her there, waiting for her to make the next move. When she felt steadier, Hannah spoke again.

“There was something else. Before my head started to go fuzzy, I felt something weird. Pulling me backward. In my chest. Like a bungee cord. Flexible, but tugging me.”

“Did it hurt?” Conner asked, the words coming quick and sharp.

“No. It didn’t hurt, it just pulled at me.” She wanted to ask him if he’d experienced the same thing, but it felt too much like she was pushing for a connection.

Conner didn’t reply. Instead he rose to his feet, shifting her weight as he carried her back to flat ground. She expected him to put her down once they were off the hill, but he carried her all the way to the house, not letting her go until he set her in a chair by the fireplace. In silence, he stacked wood and lit the kindling.

“Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Hot cocoa?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

“Cocoa, please.” Hannah said, watching the small flames growing as they caught the dry wood in the fireplace. The whole episode had left her shaky and uncertain. She’d lived with the static for so long, she hadn’t expected such panic at its return. Conner’s reaction to her collapse was almost as unsettling. First he got upset that she’d pushed too hard. She wasn’t trying to hurt herself, but she needed to know where she stood. Few people knew what it was like to live with a brain that could turn bad at a moment’s notice. Now that she had a possibility of getting her mind back, she had to understand what was going on.

It was clear that distance from Conner brought the static back. The farther she’d moved from his side, the worse it had been. A connection to Conner was bad enough. He barely knew her and he was already doing her a favor. He didn’t need to have a stranger dependent on him for her sanity. Then there was the weird tugging sensation. She’d mentioned it and Conner had shut down. He still hadn’t spoken to her except to ask what she wanted to drink. The sensation of being pulled back toward Conner was bizarre. If he’d shrugged it off she might have thought it was just her. But his reaction suggested he’d felt it too. Or he thought she was nuts and wasn’t sure how to break it to her. As much as she needed to know what the tugging was, Hannah wished she hadn’t said anything.

All this neediness disgusted Hannah. She’d always been independent and capable. After they’d lost her father, Hannah and her mother had learned to stand on their own. Her mother taught her that life was a balance of give and take. Right now, all Hannah was doing was taking from Conner. She needed too much from him. Protection, guidance through this strange new world she found herself in. And now she needed him for her very sanity. She didn’t want to drive Conner away with her dependence. He was her only anchor. The thought of losing him was terrifying.

All she had to offer him was herself. One of the side effects of a clear mind and strong body seemed to be the return of lust. Watching Conner making cocoa in the kitchen, Hannah easily imagined offering her body in exchange for his help. She could walk up behind him, squeeze his tight ass while he was bending into the fridge. Run her hands under his shirt, up his strong back.

Shaking her head, Hannah rejected that idea. Not just the lusting after Conner. Lust seemed more than a little inappropriate considering the situation. But wouldn’t sex with Conner be just more taking from him? After all, she wasn’t fantasizing about him because she thought going to bed with him would be a sacrifice. He was hot and she’d been alone for a long time.

Hannah needed her hot cocoa. Or a drink. Even better, hot cocoa with something alcoholic in it. Peppermint schnapps? Chocolate liqueur? Hannah didn’t think they had either of those in the cabin. She wasn’t going to ask. It was bad enough that Conner probably thought she was crazy. She didn’t need him to think she had a drinking problem on top of being nuts.

Conner lingered over the small pot of cocoa on the stove, avoiding the moment when he would have to turn around and talk to Hannah. He still wasn’t clear on what had happened in the clearing. Whatever was messed up in her head had come back strong, ultimately driving her to her knees in the cold, damp dirt. He knew Hannah was strong or she wouldn’t have survived being held captive in a nest of Vorati. So whatever was going on must have hit her like a freight train. That much was clear.

When Hannah had suggested Conner played some part in her dramatic improvement, he’d thought she was grasping. He was a Warder soldier, not a mage. He didn’t have any extra-sensory abilities, so how could he be having an effect on her mind? Her collapse on the hillside and quick recovery when he’d reached her seemed to prove him wrong. If her problem was caused by a lack of basic shielding, then she must be borrowing from Conner’s shields. Odd and improbable, but nothing else made sense. He’d never heard of a Warder’s shields extending to protect another person. But Hannah was a Shadow. He had no idea what her mind might do. She could be drawing his shields to protect herself unconsciously. He’d have to work on teaching her to shield on her own. There was no way he could send her away while she was so vulnerable.

The tugging sensation Hannah had asked about had taken Conner completely by surprise. He’d been backing up with slow, measured steps, smiling at the cute expression of concentration on Hannah’s face as she’d placed her feet carefully behind her. It began as a whisper of gentle pulls in the center of his chest. So slight he’d hardly noticed. They’d gathered strength as he’d moved away from her, trying to draw him back to Hannah, tugging in the same steady pulse as his heartbeat. As if they were a part of his very essence, the need to be near Hannah a physical necessity rather than a preference.

He didn’t trust it. He wanted Hannah. Wanted to be with her, to touch her, to hold her. It seemed too convenient that something at the core of him wanted that too. He’d barely begun to process what the tugging sensation might mean when he’d seen her go down, falling to her knees in an awkward stumble. All thought had fled as he’d raced to her side.

Conner hadn’t been aware of the tugging settling back into nothing as he’d reached Hannah. He might have pushed it out of his mind if she hadn’t asked about it. For some reason, while he felt himself being pulled back to Hannah, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might be feeling the exact same thing. Part of him felt a selfish rush of joy at the thought. Whatever was connecting him to Hannah also bound her to him. Since he’d first laid eyes on her, Conner had wanted Hannah. He’d pushed the need aside, knowing that she was meant for a life with the Shadows, not for him.

Warder soldiers didn’t have relationships. Conner kept reminding himself that the second he turned her over, a moment that drew closer with every breath, Hannah would disappear from his life forever. The idea of losing her brought a hollow ache to his chest. He couldn’t deny that he wanted a connection to her, whether or not that connection was good for either of them.

But Hannah was adrift in the world, vulnerable, with no one to stand for her. Conner had been raised a soldier. He existed to protect. Taking advantage of Hannah went against everything that he believed in. The best he could do was give her the tools to protect herself. Anything else would go too far.

Still stirring the cocoa, he watched the fragrant steam rise and realized it was ready. He couldn’t stand in the kitchen forever. Sighing, Conner poured the drink into two mismatched mugs and carried them over to the fire. He searched his mind for something to say that would make Hannah feel better without betraying his own thoughts.

“We don’t have any marshmallows,” he said. Not exactly smooth. Despite his frequent role as a knight in shining armor, saving damsels in distress from big, bad Vorati, Conner had to admit he had no skills in soothing frightened women.

“What?” Hannah looked at him in confusion.

“For the cocoa,” Conner said, gesturing with his mug. “Or whipped cream. If Kiernan didn’t have a sweet tooth, we wouldn’t even have cocoa.”