Awakened (12 page)

I smacked him. “Be good. I’m talking about this.” I raised the bow. “I’ve always thought archery was cool, but I really don’t know much about it. Could you teach me? Please?”

Stark took a step away from me, giving the bow a wary glance. “Zoey, you know I shouldn’t shoot that.”

“No. What you shouldn’t do is aim for something that’s alive. Well, that is unless the alive thing needs to be un-alive. But I’m not asking you to shoot it. I’m asking you to teach
me
how to shoot it.”

“Why do you all of a sudden want to learn?”

“Well, it makes sense. We’re going to be staying here, right?”

“Right.”

“And Warriors have been trained here for, like, zillions of years. Right?”

“Right again.”

I grinned at him, trying to lighten things up. “I really like it when you admit that I’m right. Again. Anyway, you’re a Warrior. We’re here. I’d like to learn some kind of Warrior skill. That’s too darn heavy for me.” I pointed at the claymore. “Plus, this is pretty.” I lifted the elegant-looking bow.

“No matter how pretty it is, you need to remember it’s a weapon. It can kill, especially if I fire it.”

“If you fire it
and
aim to kill,” I said.

“Sometimes mistakes happen,” he said, looking haunted by memories from his past.

I rested my hand on his arm. “You’re older now. Smarter. You won’t make the same mistakes again.” He just stared at me without speaking, so I lifted the bow again and went on. “Okay, show me how this works.”

“We don’t have a target.”

“Sure we do.” I thumped the worn leather shield he’d laid on the ground when I’d joined him. “Prop this between a couple rocks down the beach a little way. I’ll try to shoot it—
after
you prop it up and get back here out of my line of fire, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” he said.

Looking resigned and miserable, he walked a few paces away from us, hefted some rocks around until he had the shield held semi-steady between two of them, then came back to me. Reluctantly, he took the bow and set the quiver of arrows at our feet.

“This is how you hold it.” He demonstrated gripping the grip-thingie while I watched. “And the arrow goes here.” He rested it across the side of the bow, point down and away from us. “You nock it like this. These arrows make it easy to know which way to do it because the black ones should be turned like this, with the one red one up this way.” As he talked Stark began to relax. His hands knew the bow, and knew the arrow. It was obvious that he could do what he was showing me with his eyes shut—do it quickly and well. “Plant your legs firmly, about hip-width apart, like this.” He demonstrated and I checked out his excellent legs, which was one of the many reasons I liked the fact that he’d started wearing the kilt all the time.

“And then you lift the bow and, holding the arrow between your first two fingers, pull the string back, taut.” He explained what I was supposed to do, but he’d stopped demonstrating. “Sight down the arrow, but aim a little low. That will help adjust for distance and the breeze. When you’re ready, let loose. Be careful to bow your left arm or you’ll smack it and give yourself a nasty bruise.” He held the bow out to me. “Go ahead. Try it.”

“Show me,” I said simply.

“Zoey, I don’t think I should.”

“Stark, the target is a leather shield. It’s not alive. There’s nothing alive even vaguely attached to it. Just aim for the center of the shield and show me how it’s done.” He hesitated. I rested my hand on his chest and leaned forward. He met me halfway. Our kiss was sweet, but I could feel the tension in his body. “Hey,” I said softly, still touching his chest. “Try to trust yourself as much as I trust you. You’re my Warrior, my Guardian. You need to use the bow because it’s your Goddess-given gift. I know you’ll use it wisely. I know it because I know
you.
You’re good. You’ve fought to be good, and you’ve won.”

“But I’m not all good, Z,” he said, looking totally frustrated. “I’ve seen the bad part of me. It was there—real—in the Otherworld.”

“And you defeated it,” I said.

“Forever? I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Hey, no one’s all good. Not even me. I mean, if some smart kid left his test out in geometry, I’m telling you—I’d look.”

He smiled for a breath of a moment, then the tension was back in his face. “You joke about it, but it’s different for me. I think it’s different for all of the red fledglings and even Stevie Rae. Once you’ve known Darkness, real Darkness, there’s always a shadow on your soul.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Not a shadow. Just a different kind of experience. You and the rest of the red fledglings have experienced something we haven’t. It doesn’t make you part of the shadow of Darkness—it makes you experienced with it. That could be a good thing if you use your extra knowledge to fight for good, and you do.”

“Sometimes I worry that it might be more than that,” he said slowly, staring into my eyes like he was looking for a hidden truth.

“What do you mean?”

“Darkness is territorial, possessive. Once it’s had a piece of you, it doesn’t like to let go.”

“Darkness doesn’t have any choice if you choose the path of the Goddess, and you have. It can’t beat Light.”

“But I’m not sure Light can ever really beat Darkness, either. There’s a balance to things, Z.”

“Which doesn’t mean you can’t choose sides. And you’ve chosen. Trust yourself. I trust you. Completely,” I repeated.

Stark kept staring into my eyes like he was grabbing on to a lifeline. “As long as you see me as good—as long as you believe in me—I can trust myself because I trust you, Zoey. And I love you.”

“I love you, too, Guardian,” I said.

He kissed me and then, in a movement that was fast and graceful and lethal, Stark pulled back the bow and let the arrow fly. It thunked with finality into the absolute center of the target.

“Wow,” I said. “That was amazing.
You’re
amazing.”

He blew out a long breath, and with it the tension that had been so obvious in his body seemed to be blown away, too. Stark smiled his cute, cocky grin. “Center of the target, Z. I hit it dead-on.”

“Of course you did, silly. You can’t miss.”

“Yeah, that’s right. And it’s just a target.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not? And this time don’t go so darn fast. Slow down. Show me.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Okay, here.” He aimed and shot more slowly, giving me time to follow his movements.

And the second arrow split the first one down the middle.

“Oh, woops. I forgot about doing that. I used to waste a lot of arrows that way.”

“Here, my turn. I’ll bet I don’t have that problem.”

I tried to do what Stark had done, but ended up shooting my arrow short and watching it skitter off the smooth, wet rocks.

“Well, crap. It’s definitely harder than it looks,” I said.

“Here. I’ll show you. You’re not standing right.” He came up behind me, fitting his arms over mine and snuggling against my backside. “Think of yourself as an ancient warrior queen. Stand strong and proud. Shoulders back! Chin up!” I did as he said and inside the powerful circle of his arms I felt myself transform into someone powerful and majestic. His hands guided mine to pulling the bow taut. “Stay steady and strong—focus,” he whispered. Together we sighted the target, and as we let loose the arrow, I could feet the jolt that rippled through his body and mine and guided the arrow to the dead center of the target again, splintering the two before it.

I turned and smiled up at my Guardian. “What you have is magick. It’s special. You have to use it, Stark. You have to.”

“I’ve missed it,” he said, speaking so softly I had to strain to hear him. “I don’t really feel right if I don’t stay connected to my bow.”

“It’s because through it you’re connected to Nyx. She gave you your gift.”

“Maybe I can start again here. This place feels different to me. Somehow I feel like I belong here—like
we
belong here.”

“I feel it, too. And it seems like it’s been forever since I’ve felt this safe and this happy.” I stepped into his arms. “Sgiach just told me that she’s going to start opening the island up to Warriors again—and also to other gifted fledglings.” I smiled up at Stark. “You know, like fledglings with special affinities.”

“Oh, you mean like affinities for the elements?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I mean.” I hugged him, and spoke into his chest. “I want to stay here. I really do.”

Stark stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I know you do, Z. And I’m with you. I’ll always be with you.”

“Maybe here we can get rid of the Darkness Neferet and Kalona have tried to bring to us,” I said.

Stark held me tightly. “I hope so, Z. I really do hope so.”

“Do you think it might be enough to just have one piece of the world that’s safe from Darkness? Is it still walking the path of the Goddess even if I’m just walking it here?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but it makes sense to me that what’s important is that you’re trying your best to stay true to Nyx. I can’t see that where you’re doing it is such a big deal.”

“I understand why Sgiach doesn’t leave this place,” I said.

“So do I, Z.”

Stark held me then, and I felt the bruised, battered places inside of me begin to warm and, slowly, I started to heal.

Zoey felt damn good in his arms. When Stark thought back to how close he’d come to losing her, it could still scare him so badly that it made his stomach sick.
I did it. I got to her in the Otherworld and made sure she came back to me. She’s safe now and I’m gonna always keep her that way.

“Hey, you’re thinking awful hard,” Zoey said. Curled up with him in the big bed they shared, she nuzzled his neck and kissed his cheek. “I can practically hear the wheels turning inside your head.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to have the super psychic abilities.” He said it with a kidding tone, but at the same time Stark gave a little mental push and slipped around just on the outskirts of her psyche—not close enough to her real thoughts to piss her off with his eavesdropping, but just near enough to be sure that she really did feel safe and happy.

“Want to know something?” she asked, with a hesitant tone to her voice.

Stark propped himself up on his elbow and grinned down at her. “Are you kidding, Z? I want to know
everything.
”

“Stop it—I’m being serious.”

“Me, too!” She gave him a
look
and he kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, fine. I’m being serious. What is it?”

“I, um, really like it when you touch me.”

Stark’s brows went up and he had to struggle not to break into a giant grin. “Well, that’s good.” He watched her cheeks get pink and a little grin slipped through. “I’m guessing that’s
real
good.”

Zoey chewed her lip. “Do you like it?”

Stark couldn’t help laughing then. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Dead. Serious. I mean, how am I supposed to know? I’m not exactly experienced—not like you are.”

Her cheeks were flaming by that time and he thought she looked mega uncomfortable, which put a damper on his laughter. The last thing he wanted to do was to embarrass her or make her feel weird about what was happening between them.

“Hey.” He cupped her flushed cheek. “Being with you is beyond awesome. And, Zoey, you’re wrong. You’re
more
experienced than me about love.” When she started to speak he pressed his finger against her lips. “No, let me say this. Yeah, I’ve had sex before. But I’ve never been in love. Never until you. You’re my first, and you’re going to be my last.”

She smiled up at him with such love and trust that he thought his heart would beat out of his chest. It was only Zoey—it would always be only Zoey for him.

“Would you make love to me again?” she whispered.

As her answer Stark held her even closer and began a long, slow kiss. His last thought before everything went wrong was,
I’ve never been this happy in my life …

He could feel Neferet getting near and he steeled himself, schooling his expression and cloaking the hatred he had begun to feel for her with a careful demeanor of expectation and accommodation.

Kalona would bide his time. If there was one thing the immortal understood, it was the power of patience.

“Neferet approaches,” he told Rephaim. His son was standing before one of the several large sets of glass doors that opened onto the huge balcony that was the predominate feature of the penthouse loft the Tsi Sgili had purchased. Penthouse meant all the opulence Neferet craved and the privacy and rooftop access he required.

“Has she Imprinted with you?”

Rephaim’s question brought Kalona’s thoughts up short. “Imprinted? Neferet and I? What an odd question for you to ask me.”

Rephaim turned from the downtown Tulsa panorama to look at his father. “You can sense her approach. I assume she’s tasted of your blood and you’ve Imprinted.”

“No one tastes of an immortal’s blood.”

The elevator doors chimed just before they opened and Kalona turned in time to see Neferet stride across the gleaming marble floor. She moved gracefully, with a sweeping glide those who were less informed would believe vampyric. Kalona knew differently. He understood her movement had changed, shifted, evolved—just as she had changed, shifted, and finally evolved into a being much more than vampyre.

“My Queen,” he said, bowing respectfully to her.

Neferet’s smile was dangerously beautiful. Serpentine, she wrapped one arm around his shoulder and exerted more pressure than was necessary. Obediently, Kalona bent so that she could press her lips to his. He let his mind go blank. His body alone responded, deepening the kiss, letting her tongue slither into his mouth.

As abruptly as she had begun it, Neferet ended the embrace. Glancing over his shoulder she said, “Rephaim, I thought you were dead.”

“Wounded, not dead. I healed and awaited my father’s return,” Rephaim said.

Kalona thought that though his son’s words were proper and respectful, there was something about his tone that was off, though it had always been difficult to read Rephaim as the visage of a beast tended to mask any human emotion he had. If, indeed, he had
any
emotion that could be classified as human.