Gradually the pain subsided and breathing became easier. My heart took it
down a notch and I was grateful, for I was not sure it could take much more.
Quivering, my muscles relaxed and stayed relaxed. With a great measure of wonder, I
realized there was no longer pain, but an overwhelming sense of all things. Despite
my emotional exhaustion my body felt better, and I felt different. Strong.
"Have you calmed down now?" asked an amused voice above me. "I have been
told an awakening is easier if you are calm."
I sprung up to defend myself. My hands were fisted and my face fierce.
At first sight all I made out was a male shape, an impression of someone tall
and built. In the lightening dark all I could see were his eyes, wide and cold eyes
touched with mad, framed by a tangle of thick lashes. His grey irises were so light
they could be silver. They burned, scorched me as his gaze flicked over my face and
body. He wore dark, faded jeans and that was that. Feet and chest bare, he was the
least civilized boy I'd seen. His skin, pale and covered with intricate tattoos,
scintillated even in the absence of light. During my steady appraisal my hands had
dropped and relaxed, but they clenched again. Boys slid their eyes up and down you
before whistling to catch your attention. They did not stare at you until your insides
felt like outsides. The directness of his gaze had me mystified, and I was already
under the influence of so many emotions the only way I could react to something I
could not understand, was with violence.
However, he remained close and did not look alarmed at my aggressive posture.
Belittling the tense atmosphere, his face lit up with a smile.
"Rae," he murmured and stepped closer.
He lifted his arms as if to embrace me. One more step would close the distance
between us completely.
I was scared, so scared. I couldn't speak. There were no words or coherent
thoughts in my head. It was a jumble of panic and cautious interest. Who was he?
Was he another Cleric? Would he kill me now? Oh gods. I would become one of the
faceless and nameless that went missing every year. To be forgotten as my body
rotted or was left to become a demon dinner. I couldn't handle it, nor could my body
functions manage the full-scale meltdown. My legs buckled and the world went a
funny gray colour. I fainted, but told myself I didn't have time to faint, and came to in
the next second. Not that my actions meant anything, or my revival is what stopped
my ass hitting the ground. The boy darted forward so fast his body blurred, and something hard and invisible shunted into me. So hard it knocked the breath from my
lungs. Pushed off centre, my legs flew up and the sky swung into view.
He'd caught me.
"Stop talking," he said. Then smiled.
I stared up at him dumbly. Was he making a joke? I hadn't said a word. In fact I
think I'd forgotten to breathe since I saw him, and that's what caused my half fainting
spell.
I shifted. My top rode up some and his fingers touched my back. Something hot
and powerful invaded me. It charged through my body until every muscle was tense
and straining, not pleasant after the baptism of ice and fire I'd been an intimate and
unwilling subject of before. And then it was gone, dissipating into nothing. I relaxed
so completely it felt like my bones had unhinged, and my muscles liquefied.
The boy's face was blank with shock. Had he felt the painful heat too? I hoped so,
because I was sure it was his fault.
There was a fracas nearby, getting closer and louder. My heart did a good job of
clambering into my throat and blocking my airway. The party hunting me crashed
past and kept on going. The boy, who had crouched down with me on his knee whilst
I had worked on breathing right, ducked his head down and tensed. I felt better
because he too was barely breathing. My heart thundered and my thoughts raced. The
bloodhounds were trained to follow the weakest of trails. Why didn't they smell me
when my scent would have led them right to us? This brought me round to the
daunting thought of how I got so far ahead, was able to roll around on the floor, and
encounter a strange boy before they had caught up. Again, who was this boy, over
whose arm and knee, I was draped? Not that it was uncomfortable, but he'd put his
hands on me so easily, and held me close and it felt…good. The shock had me
relaxing and looking down at his hands. They were big, hard and somehow elegant as
they curled around me.
The hunting party passed out of sight and hearing range. My stomach
unclenched, and my heart slid back down to rest uneasily in my chest. The boy
remained as he was and peered into my face. My heart raced at how tall and how
strong he was. Hair cut close to his head the general impression was hardness. A
heavy top brow, and sharp cheekbones rested high on a sculpted face. His nose was
the opposite of the distinctive aquiline bridge most boy Disciples had, and I liked it.
His bold eyebrows and masculine lips added depth to a face that needed no flattering.
The scent of soil and sunlight reached me as I watched his silver eyes flick from my
face, to the leather cord at my neck.
"We've been looking for you," he said.
The first words I'd spoken all day were, "Nobody looks for me, and how do you
know my name?" Taken aback by the feeble quality of my own voice, I lifted my chin
and added some gusto. "I mean, put me down. Now."
He did no such thing and he did not answer my question. But he did smile
again, and what a spectacular show it was. His body was heavy and hot. Through the
fabric of my clothes I felt the hard lines of him, and the slow thump of his heart over
mine. Without thinking, I reached to touch his jaw and it felt like strength. My
fingertips glided over a raised slash of skin, and a quick tug tilted his head so I could
see more of his profile. I traced a scar following the line of his jaw, curving up to his
cheekbone. The skin was puckered, rough. His eyes met mine and I shrugged, the scar
made him real to me. I snaked my hands up his bare, solid shoulders and jumped off
him so I stood on my own two feet.
I knew without a shadow of doubt this boy would rather die than hurt me.
"Rae," he said softly. I shivered from silky soft calling of my name, but then he
finished with, "My name is Breandan, and you are mine."
My whole body jolted. Then my startled laugh broke the short silence. Needing
space to think and breathe, I pushed away from him.
"In your dreams," I said and spun around.
I tried to pin down a direction to run toward. I realized at that moment my
solution was downright silly and ineffective. See bad, scary or confusing thing, turn
and run from bad, scary or confusing thing until you bump into another bad, scary or
confusing thing. I was getting nowhere fast.
"You wouldn't say such a thing if you knew the truth. And since I saw you first
you have to be mine. The white witch was right, and now I'll never hear the end of it.
I didn't think you would come out here so soon and so freely. I tried to ignore you,
even when you got lost, but when I heard you running away from them I had to help.
They would have caught you."
I'd stopped moving in the middle of this rationalization. His voice was awfully
attractive. I could never describe how it sounded because it would only ever sound
perfect to me, and no one else. Once I'd gotten past hearing the words I thought over
the meaning. In delayed reaction my chest puffed out and I bristled.