Read Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) Online
Authors: Stephanie Rowe
Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) (8 page)
Quinn’s body went rigid under her grasp, and Grace clutched his wrist tighter, as if she could call back that moment of intimacy when he’d touched her hair. “You swore you’d listen to the whole story before judging me.”
“I’m listening.” His voice was tight, reserved, utterly devoid of the concern she’d felt from him a minute ago. “You tried to kill me. I heard that.”
“No. Not on purpose.” She sat up, hating the look of distrust on Quinn’s face, especially after they’d just connected. God, she was tired of being who she was, she was tired of not being trusted, and she was tired of the fact that everyone was right not to trust her.
When Quinn had agreed to help and whisked her away from the illusion, it had been the greatest relief to realize she wasn’t alone in this battle anymore. She’d felt like someone had given her a ray of hope that maybe things were finally going to turn for the better.
After having been given the gift of his help, seeing the look of distrust on his face now stripped Grace of what little reserves of strength she still had left. She was too tired to pull herself together one more time. Too exhausted to lose hope and then find courage one more time.
No. She had to fight for this. For his help. Despite the distance he’d erected between them, she couldn’t give up. “I would never hurt you, or anyone, on purpose. Never.” Grace tightened her grip on him, willing him to understand. If anyone could, this man who saw death and evil on a daily basis was the one who would be able to see past the blood on her hands. “I have trouble controlling the illusions, especially under stress. It was a response to the threat I felt from the other illusion, and I couldn’t stop it.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “That’s why it appeared? To protect you?”
“Yes.”
“It protected you by burning you and nearly killing you?” He didn’t hide his skepticism.
Yeah, okay, she could see how this was going to be tough to explain. Fine. She gave up trying to have any pride. He wanted the truth? He’d get the damn truth. “Okay, so you want the whole story?”
“That would be nice.”
“Fine.” Grace folded her arms over her chest. “The truth is that I suck. I’m the only Illusionist in history who’s susceptible to her own illusions. I have no idea how to protect myself from them, and I can’t control them. I don’t know why they can actually cause physical damage when other people’s don’t. I’ve tried everything to keep them from affecting me, and I can’t do it.”
She leaned her head back against the wall of the tunnel, not even bothering to hide the tears of frustration. “I know I’m a nightmare. I’m a threat to anyone unlucky enough to come near me. I’ve fought so hard to suppress them, but I knew I was slipping. I knew it was just a matter of time until I lost the battle, and I did.” She closed her eyes, wondering what would happen now. Would they start coming more often now? Or would that explosion relieve the pressure?
Please, God, make them go away
.
Quinn said nothing for a moment, and she didn’t bother to open her eyes. She didn’t say anything more. She had no more defenses.
“Who was supposed to teach you how to manage your powers?”
She squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden surge of loneliness. “My parents.”
“Why didn’t they?”
“They died.”
“I’m sorry.” He set his hand on her shoulder, the kind gesture making fresh tears want to fall.
“Don’t be nice,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “I have no defenses to nice.”
Quinn sighed and dropped his hand, and instantly Grace regretted her rejection of him. She wanted to crawl across that rocky ground, climb into his lap and stop fighting. Even for a minute or two, she wanted to stop fighting so hard to be strong.
“Why couldn’t you get other Illusionists to teach you?” Quinn’s voice was less cold, less hostile, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was watching her intently, his dark eyes focused on her. His expression was sharp, as if he were rapidly evaluating all the information she was giving him, but he didn’t look like he was facing down a would-be assassin anymore.
Hope flickered in her heart. Maybe she had a chance with him. “Illusionists are loners, and they’re suspicious of others after being persecuted for so long. They don’t play well together.” Grace shrugged, not wanting to dwell on a past that she couldn’t change, a childhood that had been stolen from her before she’d been ready. She’d been forced to figure out what she could on her own, sifting truth from fiction from the few facts she could find on the Internet and in her other research. It hadn’t been enough, obviously. “It doesn’t matter. Just please believe me that I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He rubbed her arm again, and this time she put her hand over his, needing the contact with another person. His willingness to touch her felt like reassurance that she wasn’t some monstrous freak undeserving of human touch. Not that Quinn was human, but close enough.
“It’s okay, Grace. I can handle them.”
She stared at him, at the calm confidence in his face, and some of her tension began to ease away. He didn’t hate her, he didn’t fear her, and he was still alive after having been attacked by her illusion.
“I can keep us both safe from you,” he said.
He’d already proved he could.
“You don’t care?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not a big deal.”
Not a big deal.
For a moment, Grace’s guards fell away and she sagged against the wall, too exhausted to hold herself up. For the first time in years, she’d didn’t have to fight it by herself. She didn’t have to worry about hurting someone, or herself. By being able to protect both of them from her illusions, Quinn gave her that freedom. Just for now, while they were together and no one else was around that she could hurt, she didn’t have to worry that she’d snap. If she did, it wouldn’t matter.
It wouldn’t matter.
Her throat tightened at the thought of no longer having to fight every strong emotion for fear it would trigger an illusion... “You give me freedom,” she whispered.
He raised his brows. “Freedom’s good.”
She stiffened at the levity in his eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Hell, no.” He gave her a reassuring smile that made her belly flutter, then he brushed his knuckles over her cheek, leaving behind a trail of searing heat. “I’m just glad to hear that you weren’t trying to kill me on purpose.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and gave a gentle tug, before dropping his hand. “I was worried destiny had kicked into fast forward before I had time to thwart it, and I was damn glad to find out I was wrong.”
She frowned, trying not to wish he was still touching her. “Destiny? What are you talking about?”
He ignored her question as his smile faded. His face became serious and thoughtful, and she knew he’d become a warrior again. “So, if you weren’t trying to kill me, who was?”
“I don’t know.” She finally became aware of the rocks digging into her back, and she let go of Quinn’s wrist to shift her position. His hands caught her and he helped her adjust, so she was leaning against the wall of the tunnel. “I don’t know any other Illusionists well enough to identify them through their illusions. Well, except Ana, but that wasn’t hers.”
“Ana?” He laid his jacket over her lap and tucked it around her legs. “She’s an Illusionist, as well? That’s how she’s murdering people?”
Seriously? He was tucking her in? Dammit. That felt much too delicious. She couldn’t get weak or soft, or she’d crumble. But God, it felt good to have someone taking care of her. “She’s an Illusionist, but she’s not like other Illusionists. Hers aren’t dark—”
He couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “Not dark? But all illusions are dark. Good illusions were selectively bred out of the race thousands of years ago, when Illusionists were used by leaders to torture people.” He picked up her hand and ran his fingers over her burns, studying her already-healing injuries.
“Not Ana. She’s an aberration.” She’d started to tense when he’d mentioned the origins of her race, but he’d been so matter of fact and non-judgmental that she’d relaxed almost right away, realizing he wasn’t going to judge her for what she was. He wasn’t bothered by it, and he wasn’t afraid of her. Somehow, she’d managed to stumble across the one being in existence that didn’t care what she was. God, what a gift. “You’re less bothered by what I am than I am.”
He gave a soft snort. “Trust me, Grace, you’re just fine.”
She caught the undercurrent of his words. “You mean, you’re far worse than I could ever be?”
His gaze went to hers. “I kill warriors who used to be my friends. Sometimes I even kill the women who love them. You really think your history is going to bother me?”
“If you knew the details of it—”
“Screw that, Grace. It doesn’t matter.” He cupped her jaw and lifted her face to his. “It might bother you, but I don’t care.”
“You mean that.” She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse beat under his index finger, heat suddenly pooling in her belly. Just the idea that someone could know the truth about her and not judge her...
“Yeah.” His thumb began to stroke the column of her neck, his gaze went to her mouth, and hunger flared in his eyes.
God, yes, kiss me.
The need to feel Quinn’s mouth on hers pulsed through every cell of her body and she leaned into him, consumed by the intensity of him—
He dropped his hand and sat back, and she felt like screaming in frustration. Sexual longing burned through her veins from that short touch. What was wrong with her? That wasn’t her. She wasn’t some passionate vixen. She was the girl who sat in the corner at the party, too terrified to let go of her self-control long enough to risk going on a date, let alone being consumed by wild, crazy desire.
Except once. One man she’d trusted. Never, ever going there again.
Ever.
So, instead of chasing Quinn down, she sat back and folded her arms across her chest, struggling to contain the heat coursing through her body.
Quinn, however, didn’t seem to be having any trouble concentrating. “If Ana’s illusions aren’t dark, how is she murdering people? Making them laugh themselves to death?” He grabbed Grace’s hand and flipped it over to inspect her palm, his touch precise and clinical as he assessed her injuries, nothing like the heated caress of his fingers on her jaw.
She flinched slightly as his fingers probed a particularly severe burn, but she didn’t pull away. She liked the fact he was checking her injuries. She liked being taken care of. And she enjoyed the comforting feel of his hand wrapped so firmly around hers. “I don’t think she can kill with them. How do puppy dogs and butterflies kill a Calydon? It might make them want to dance around a meadow and sing, but die? Not so much.” She almost smiled at the thought of Quinn caught up in one of Ana’s illusions. She wondered what his laugh would sound like, what it would be like to have him sweep her up in his arms and dance with her—
Quinn scowled as he shoved her charred sleeve up to inspect the burns on her forearm. He cursed softly. “Your illusion did some serious damage to you.”
“It nearly killed me. I know.” She glanced down at her forearm, then wished she hadn’t. Just seeing it made it hurt even more, and the oozing, blackened skin looked horrible. “On the plus side, my body gets stronger after I generate an illusion, so I should heal quickly.”
“The illusion heals you? Is that how it works?” He laid his hand over her arm, as if he could infuse her with his strength.
“It heals me and gives me energy, but most of its benefit will be used up healing the burns this time. My mom used to be able to heal me, but now I’m on my own.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Even though she was a dark Illusionist, she had a beautiful spirit. It’s obvious where my sister gets her good side.” God, she missed the brightness that her mother and Ana used to bring into her life. She missed her mother, that weight of knowing she was never coming back. If she’d lost Ana forever too…
Quinn’s face softened, and his hand brushed against her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
His voice was so full of sympathy and warmth that tears stung the back of her eyes and she leaned into his touch. Then she realized what she was doing and pulled back. She couldn’t succumb to his comfort, the temptation to let him chase away her loneliness. She had to keep moving forward, focusing on her goal. She had no time to cry. “Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
Quinn’s eyebrows rose, and he dropped his hand, respect flashing in his eyes. “Do you need to do another illusion to finish your healing?” he asked.
Something about the tone in his voice caught her attention, and she realized he was going into protector mode. She stiffened. “You are
not
going to force an illusion on me just to get me to heal.” Not that she could do another illusion so soon after that one, but she had to shut him down from that train of thought in a hurry.
His face hardened. “Sorry, darling, but it’s far too late to ask me to step back and let you hurt yourself.”
Darling?
“Too late? What does that mean? And what business is it of yours what I do?”
His gaze was unwavering, drilling into Grace with an intensity that made her tremble in response. What the hell was
wrong
with her?
“I can’t let you die if I can stop it.” He scowled as he spoke. “Not my choice, trust me.”
“What? You’d prefer I die? That’s a lovely sentiment to be sharing when I’m trapped in some tunnel with you and can do nothing to save myself if you turn psycho killer on me.” Grace yanked her arm free, wincing as his fingers dug into her burn for a split second before he could loosen his grip.
She turned her arm over to inspect the wound. The charred skin was flaking off, replaced by new fragile skin underneath. She showed it to Quinn. “I’ll be in good shape in another hour, ready to find my sister. That’s our focus, remember? Finding out who killed Elijah and is torturing my sister, instead of having you wax on about how my death would please you? Because that really wigs me out, if you want the truth.”
“It’s not that I
want
you to die,” Quinn growled. “But I’m not turning rogue, not even for you. It would make my life a hell of a lot better if you weren’t in it.”
“Turning rogue?” Grace scooted to the side to put some space between them, her heart suddenly starting to beat faster. Quinn was emanating a dangerous energy, a vibration that made her want to crawl seductively across the rocks right into his arms. It also made her want to scramble to her feet and run back into the fire if that’s what it took to get away from him. She’d never sensed that kind of sexual energy from someone, and she could feel it thrumming through her body, calling to her. “What are you talking about?”
He ground his teeth, then rose to his feet and paced down the tunnel. Her nerves jangled when he disappeared outside the range of the flashlight, then she scowled at herself for being stressed merely because Quinn had moved a short distance away from her. She should be
glad
he was giving her space.
Then Quinn was back, and he crouched in front of her. “Question.”
He smelled good, she realized with a start. Sure, he smelled like smoke and dirt, but there was something else, too. Outdoors. Pine.
Freedom
.
There was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. “Could an Illusionist screw with my battle instincts? Make me think a place was safe when it wasn’t? Not by doing an external illusion that I see, but by doing something inside me?”
She wrinkled her nose while she thought about it. “You mean, like creating a feeling of anger when you’re not actually angry?”
“Exactly.”
Grace frowned. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Instead of creating a false image, it would mean creating false emotions. I haven’t heard of it, but I’m not exactly an expert, as you know.”
He leaned forward, and she could see the pulse beating in his throat in anticipation of her answer. “Could an Illusionist sever friendship bonds of five hundred years and make one friend murder the other?” Quinn’s voice was intense, tight. “Even if the two individuals were extremely powerful?”
She nodded. “With a strong enough Illusionist...probably.”
He gave a small whoop of victory. “Hot damn. I
knew
it wasn’t Elijah going rogue.” He grabbed her shoulders and planted a quick kiss on her mouth.
They both froze, and then he kissed her again. Heat surged through her and the kiss instantly went from a shared victory to intense, scorching passion. He growled low in his chest, his hands went to her hips and he hauled her against him, never breaking their connection. Desire blasted through her, igniting every level of her soul.
His chest was searing against hers, her breasts crushed against him. He tasted of smoke and man, his muscles flexing as she grabbed his arms, desperate to hold onto him, to pull him closer, to kiss him deeper, to—
Quinn broke the kiss suddenly, pulling back but not releasing her. They stared at each other, the only sound in the tunnel their heavy breathing, the thundering of her pulse.
“Another question,” he said, his hands tight around her hips, his body still flush against hers.
