Warden (Elemental Paladins Book 1) (6 page)

Despite what his stupid dick seemed to think, he was most definitely
not
happy to see her. The foolish thing had been hard as a rock ever since she stepped into the room. Everything about her seemed to rev his engines, from her voice, to her sarcasm and her wit. He appreciated a woman who could hold her own in a conversation. But what grabbed at his gut the most were those eyes of hers. He most definitely did
not
think her eyes were the most expressive, the most magical eyes he had ever seen. They were turquoise. There was no other colour that described them. They looked like the colour of the clearest of bays in the warmest of seas. He wondered if they would darken with desire during sex or perhaps lighten in the throes of ecstasy.
Stupid dick!

“Perhaps it’s you who would like to take a picture, hmmm?”

Ryker could hear the knowing smirk in her voice and it made his teeth grind. A pair of pretty eyes – and even prettier breasts – would not be enough to make him forget she was a warden with a very suspicious and questionable history. He crossed his arms over his chest and returned to the matter at hand, “Where are you from?”

Perfectly shaped eyebrows rose over mocking eyes, “Australia. I figured the accent would give me away. Yours is fairly close but not that of a native. Pommy?” She questioned.

He had actually been born in England but hadn’t lived there for over fifty years. His accent only came out these days when he was very angry, very stressed … or very aroused. At the moment he was all three so he supposed it made sense that she was able to pick it. She was very observant and astute, he realised. She was also quite adept at taking the focus away from herself.

“Where were you born?” He didn’t believe in using twenty words when four were enough.

“Australia.”

She grinned and his dick twitched from the clear challenge in her eyes. She would rue the day she chose to take him on. He stalked forward, power in each step, until he hovered over her much smaller frame. “You are an unbound warden with no Order in my territory. I am within my rights to report you to the Council and let them deal with you as they see fit. Believe me, they would not be so accommodating.”

That was a total and utter lie of course. The Council was made up of a bunch of self-righteous, pretentious wankers and would no doubt be thrilled with the discovery of a new warden. Warden births were few and far between and after the massacre half a century ago the numbers had dwindled drastically. It was why the wardens were safeguarded so zealously now. The Council would celebrate her appearance and grant her all the trappings her station afforded. He could see the frowns on the faces of Darius, Lark and Beyden but they were too well trained to voice their discontent. Beyden and Lark were the softest of the bunch and although they were fierce soldiers he knew they would have been content to never fight a day in their lives. Darius’s disapproval, Ryker knew, was due to him being a gentleman. A male just didn’t treat a female like Ryker was. He wholeheartedly agreed with Darius really, but lying would serve a twin purpose. Firstly, it would reveal if she already had knowledge of the Council and she had in fact been lying to them. It should also induce her to be more cooperative if she felt threatened. Axel and Cali didn’t seem too concerned, but then Cali was a practical woman and Axel was … well, Axel was a bit of a dick. Ryker really liked him.

Max frowned, “There is so much I don’t understand in that statement. Unbound warden? Order? Council?” She rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand and it was Ryker’s turn to frown. Was she unwell? Beyden, ever the nurturer, must have noticed at the same time he did for he asked;

“Are you okay?”

The smile she threw his way, was strained and obviously fake, “I’m fine.” She said, “Just really overwhelmed. It’s been a long day and my head is spinning.”

“I can imagine. Here, let me get you some water.” He walked briskly to the fridge and filled a glass with the rain water always in supply.

“Thank you.” Max clutched at the glass with two hands as she drank thirstily. In order to hide the fact that her hands were trembling?
Shit!
Ryker thought. She probably needed a vitality boost. Glancing around, he noted similar looks of realisation on the faces of his fellow paladins and knew the interrogation was over for now. He may be a jerk, but he was also a knight, and his very DNA demanded he provide for all wardens.

“You need energy.” He stated.

Those turquoise eyes of hers still hinted at an inner strength of steel but the bright spark of defiance was much diminished when she raised them to meet his gaze. “I need a good night’s sleep and some time to wrap my head around all this Hogwarts business yawl are spouting.”

“Hogwarts?”

“Yawl?” Lark and Axel questioned simultaneously.

She shook her head, sending that gorgeous mass of red hair flying messily around her arresting face, “Meh. Focus boys. Sleep first; Harry Potter education later. Can someone give me a lift to the closest motel, please?”

“No motel.” His words brooked no argument. She wasn’t going anywhere. Like it or not, she was now his responsibility until this whole mess was sorted out.

“Excuse me?”

She had reverted back to that ice princess, superior tone of hers. His dick jerked again.
Stupid dick!
“You heard me. No motel.”

“So I
am
a prisoner? I fucking knew it! You’re all a bunch of liars who have lured me out here so you can store my body parts in your freezer for future cannibalistic Sunday roasts.”

“You’re not a prisoner Max, but you truly are a warden. We haven’t been lying to you and I don’t believe you’ve been lying to us. Please, at least stay the night, eat a decent meal. In the morning we can discuss things in more detail.” Darius responded far more reasonably than Ryker would have done.

“You really expect me to stay here? Dude, I just met you. I haven’t stayed alive this long by being an idiot.”

Ryker was so not arguing with the woman. “You’re staying. End of story.” Ah, there was that lovely spark of defiance he had been looking for earlier. Before she could send out another barb Lark jumped in.

“Max, you’re safe here. Remember what we said in the car? No one here would ever hurt you. Trust your instincts.”

She appeared to mull over Lark’s earnest words carefully before responding, “One night.” She held up a rather delicate finger. “And one night only.”

“But don’t you want answers? Don’t you want to finally be safe? Wouldn’t you like to not only understand your abilities, but also control them? We can do that for you. Or at least introduce you to others who can.” Beyden assured her.

“I’ll tell you what, because you have all been so kind as to disseminate your collective knowledge to me, I will return the favour.”

“We’re riveted.” Ryker said blandly. The woman obviously had a stubborn streak a mile wide!

“Great!” She stated chirpily and held her empty right hand palm up. “Look at this hand here. Picture it loaded with all my wants and needs and deep, deep desires.” She then raised her left hand, also palm up, “Now look at this hand, but this time picture it filled with a great big pile of gorilla shit. Now which one do you think I’m likely to get more of?” She moved her hands up and down as though she were balancing an invisible scale and continued, “Because past history dictates that I’m getting the primate turd. So thank you very much for your pep talk, but I think I’ll pass. I will however, gratefully accept your kind offer of shelter for the night.”

The silence in the room was resounding; Wardens just didn’t speak like that. Nobody knew quite how to respond and to top it all off, the crazy woman was absolutely right.

“I like you.” Axel stated, before addressing the room at large, “I like her.”

So did Ryker. And that, he thought, was a mammoth problem.

SEVEN

Max turned the light off, plunging the pretty bathroom into darkness and simply rested her head against the cool tile. She had politely refused the offer of dinner, instead asking to be shown where she could sleep for the night. It was only seven or so in the evening but she hadn’t been lying when she had said her head was spinning. She had been led up one flight of stairs onto a mezzanine level with numerous doors dotting the hall and overlooking what was likely the living room. The bedroom boasted a queen sized bed in the centre of the room, flanked by white-washed bedside draws with a matching tall boy dresser on the far wall. The room was decorated in navy blue and grey tones and was surprisingly homey with a conveniently attached ensuite where she now found herself. The throb in her temples pounded in direct counterpoint to her heartbeat and she sighed in relief at the blessed blackness and chill of the tiled room. She imagined the migraine was a combination of exhaustion, information overload, and confusion due to her latest predicament.

Guided only by the light filtering through the half closed bathroom door, she bent over the sink and let the cool water trickle through her fingers. Even that was a blessed relief. Cupping her hands with the intention of splashing the liquid over her face, she took stock of the shakiness of the digits. That didn’t bode well and coupled with the migraine, Max knew a seizure was imminent and there would be no more staving it off. Although she detested being so vulnerable in a house full of strangers she at least now had a little privacy. If the seizures were to overtake her now she could be relatively recovered by morning and be in a better position to be on her way.

A full body spasm had her clutching at the porcelain sink in a vain attempt to steady herself. It was futile, for in the next instant her legs turned to jelly only to stiffen and jerk the moment she hit the hard floor. The next few minutes were a miserable exercise in fits and jerks and convulsions as her brain misfired in a series of waves. Max lay there alone, breathing hard and taking stock. She despised the seizures. They were a major weakness and she was constantly humiliated at being reduced to flopping around like a fish out of water every time she got too tired or too stressed or too angry.

She had been seventeen the first time she had succumbed to a seizure and she had been in a filthy alley in Sydney surrounded by the sleazy noises and seedy activities of the Cross. She had been absolutely terrified and had no clue what was happening. By chance, a good samaritan had come across her trembling body and instead of taking advantage of her vulnerable state, he had taken her to a local free clinic. After the usual probing questions and the obligatory call to child services they had run a series of tests and diagnosed her with epilepsy. They had explained it was a neurological condition caused by misfiring electrical impulses between her brain and her nerves – or neurons. The neurons would produce abrupt, uncontrolled spurts of electrical activity and a fit would ensue. They had prescribed her medication which she dutifully took to this day and had educated her on how to avoid the most common triggers.

Over the years Max had come to identify her triggers and unfortunately for her they were pretty unavoidable most of the time. It was a little hard to be stress free, avoid bright lights and harsh noises, and get adequate sleep when you were constantly on the run. She was able to manage the somewhat milder myoclonic seizures – they were brief shudders of her muscles and lasted only a second or two and they were pretty much a daily occurrence now anyway. Unfortunately, if she didn’t listen to her body and acknowledge those early warning signs a more severe, and potentially very dangerous, tonic-clonic seizure would follow, as evidenced by her current position on the bathroom floor.

Max sat up gingerly giving her jaw a wiggle to release the residual stiffness. Her whole body was now one big tooth ache and she was thirsty as hell. At least she hadn’t bitten her tongue … but her bottom lip did feel a little swollen. Probing the offender, she groaned;
perfect!
She had bitten her lip and it was extremely unlikely it would go down by morning. Eyeing the deep bath tub Max almost whimpered from the desire to immerse herself in a vat of steamy hot water. Nothing would be more cathartic for her tense muscles. Unfortunately, if she had another episode she would likely drown herself. First item on the agenda in the morning would be bathing of some description but for now she would have to settle for some drugs and that big comfy-looking bed in the adjoining room. She only prayed her stupid brain would take this rare opportunity to actually sleep as opposed to the visions and nightmares that routinely plagued her.

EIGHT

After a restless but still a successful night sleep by her usual standards, Max basked for an indulgent thirty minutes under the hard spray of the shower. She then rummaged through her bag finding a semi-clean pair of faded jeans and a black tank that read ‘Girls Rule’. Rubbing the towel over her wet hair and finger combing the now nearly black-looking damp locks, she considered herself done. She made her way down the spiral wooden staircase to her left rather than the straight stairs she had ascended the night before. Spiral stairs were cool. Her hosts had kept their word and no one had bothered her during the night but Max found herself nervous about her reception in the light of day. What did they expect from her? They had made it sound like there was a whole culture she was missing out on. Wardens and paladins and councils. And she still didn’t understand the whole ‘vitality’ thing. Beyden had mentioned something about controlling her abilities and although she still didn’t trust them fully, she was very interested to learn more.

Her powers had scared her on more than one occasion in the past. With no knowledge of where they came from or what they were precisely, the first few years after her ‘awakening’ had been a series of disasters in trial and error. She had hurt people on more than one occasion, destroyed property and damaged the landscape. After one particularly bad incident where she had almost drowned a wannabe mugger, she had come to realise her powers were closely linked with her emotions. Horrified at what she had nearly done she had spent the next few months in anger management, meditation and yoga classes. It was at the latter where she had met Daiki, a Japanese sensei who had taken her under his wing. After four months she had followed him to Japan and he had taught her how to defend herself and manage her emotions. Balance. It was all about balance. Where Daiki was actually a Kyoshi – an eighth dan black belt master – Max had now achieved the level of fourth dan black belt herself. In essence she could kick some major butt … and also not cause rainstorms when she was sad anymore. Daiki had also been the one to present her with her sword. Lovingly named Joy after Charlemagne’s sword
Joyuese
, the tanto knife was a type of Japanese short sword, single-edged. It was traditionally carried by the samurai as a last line of defence if their katana, or samurai sword, failed. Max found it a rather fitting weapon as she wielded it for that exact same purpose. She had the dagger on her possession as per usual but under the circumstances of being a good guest, had decided to keep it sheathed in her boot.