Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(65)

Too rich for her blood, though—as Xavier said about the baker’s daughter, much too high-maintenance. Chocolate was delicious, but when it was too rich, it rotted the teeth.

“I feel your laughter,” Cayan murmured, his eyebrow crease more pronounced. “Is it me?”

“I didn’t turn my humor into a physical reaction, so you felt my funny.”

“Mirth.”

“Okay, linguist, you felt my mirth. And yes it was you, but no, not your practice. Anyway, what do you feel?”

“What do you mean it was me but not my practice?” he pushed.

“I was laughing at your personal life, rather than this specific moment.”

“What about my personal life?”

“You are being sidetracked. Return to your practice. Focus.” She waited a beat, then said, “What do you feel?”

“Can’t you touch me and find out?”

“Normally I would be in constant contact, yes. But I can’t control the amount of power in me right now, and don’t want your half to excite it.”

“It, or you?”

“Same th—“ His dimples dug deeply into his cheeks. He was playing with her again.

“Give me your hand and we’ll try,” Shanti said warily.

The humor wiped from his face like dew from a window. His hand, palm upward, reached out from his body. She softly slid her hand along his, marveling at the size difference between them. An electric tingle vibrated her skin and flashed up her arm, but no surge. No whirlwind. No ground dropping away…

Their sighs chorused.

“For one,” she said, “your mind is closed up. Which is actually helpful at the moment. For two, I’m glad to see your hands are not soft.”

She felt confusion softly drift around her awareness. His hand involuntarily squeezed.

“Sterling’s hand is weirdly soft,” she replied to his unasked question.

“He uses a lot of lotion. His woman doesn’t like rough hands.”

“Then she is with the wrong man.”

“I think he likes that she is delicate.”

Shanti rubbed her palm around the rough skin of Cayan’s, his callouses screaming out his prowess with weapons. Screaming out safety and protection. “Ah. I’m sure he does with his history—don’t freak out, he told me. It isn’t gossip. I informed him that I killed five of those women. I have an idea what he’s been through. Unlucky.”

“I remember when he was returned. He is a few years older than me—he was in a higher level of training—but I was home when he was brought to my father. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Neither was the way I killed the clan I found.”

“He won’t admit it, but I’m sure he’s grateful.”

“Let’s get back to it. If we don’t figure you out, then he and many others might end up being subjected to worse.”

“Many women have tried to figure me out. Haven’t been able to.”

“I liked you better when you were always serious,” Shanti mumbled.

“I liked you better when you were naked.”

“Most men do. Now focus.”

She scootched a little closer and took his other hand. “You are holding everything so deeply within you. It probably feels like a weight, or a heavy ball, right behind your rib cage. Imagine it…dissolving, bubbling upwards and spreading out, like tentacles…”

She felt the blockage within curl tighter.

“Are you afraid of losing control?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Don’t be. Hopefully we’ve already hit the ceiling, and we both survived. I think we’ll be okay. I’m more comfortable now; I can be your safety net.”

He took a deep breath. “Since my dad died, I’m not used to relying on anyone.”

“I care about that, and later I would love to talk about it in length, but right now I am not interested in excuses. Let go of your hold.”

He started chuckling. “Is that your default sensitive response?”

“Not usually, but we don’t have the time. Usually I…” Shanti shook her head, shedding her distraction. “Focus.”

“You’re tough,” he muttered with a smile, his mind going inward.

“You do this naturally. How do you normally access your power?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think about things I want to know, then I just kind of…know them.”

Shanti blew out a breath. “I suddenly know why trainers hate starting with talent late. Erasing bad habits… Okay, take off your shirt.”

Cayan’s eyes snapped open. He stared at her for one long beat before doing as instructed.

“Okay.” She crawled to his side and kneeled, positioning one hand in the center of his warm back, and one nestled between his pecs. She couldn’t stop a flitted grin, fighting her desire to let that hand roam around his well-built chest. The man was a perfectly defined powerhouse. She hadn’t seen anyone this well-proportioned in useful muscle…ever, maybe. The men from her land were thinner, lithe. He was…not.

Shanti tried to clear her mind, somewhat distracted by the tingling in both her palms. The warm spicy feeling in her body grew, the effect of extended contact. “You need to stop focusing on that lump of power. Return to balancing yourself. Listen to the night. Feel the trees. Let your head get light. Let me know when you are in that headspace.”