Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(66)

After about a minute he nodded. The tingle spread up her arms and into her chest. Heat kindled somewhere deep, whether from the power merging, or something else. Half of her mind was focusing on the task at hand. The other half scanned the cords of muscular armor for weaknesses. She would eventually fight him again, and hopefully, with a little scrutiny, she could find some weak points. It might be cheating, but she was smaller—it was allowed.

“Don’t focus on my hands,” she murmured, scanning his body. She couldn’t help it—it was chocolate for the eyes. “Think of the trees. Hear them move in the wind. Hear the small animals flit from branch to branch. Hear the whine of the insects around you. Stay balanced…”

She drew her hands up his chest and back slowly and lightly, trailing her fingertips across his smooth skin. She spread out her fingers and brushed his skin, hoping he was loose enough that the power would flow. His mind relaxed further as her hands went wide, moving in large circles, working with her mind to release his unconscious hold. They should have done this before now. She shouldn’t have let him lose control before he’d ever tried to gain it in the first place. His personality didn’t respect failure, and now he would try that much harder for control. It made her job so much harder.

An hour in and energy crackled between them, but nothing more. No progression. His body was brimming with power, his hold thankfully dissolved, but his control not engaged. He was letting her solidly lead, which would have been great if she was dealing with a five-year-old and a tenth of the power he possessed.

“I want you to envision that flower.” She worked her hands higher up his chest, feeling his power unconsciously following, and his mind focusing on the night and her touch. “A tulip. It is a bulb, planted in your sternum. In the spring it crawls up through the dirt, which is what you are feeling now. The tulip is flowering right behind your eyes. What color is the stem?”

“Bright, healthy green,” he whispered.

“What color is the closed bud?”

“Deep red.”

“What color is the pollen on the inside?”

His power blossomed outward, shooting out in all directions. She kept her hands on his body so he had a point of solidity—she didn’t need him grabbing her mind like a safety raft.

“Keep balanced,” she cautioned quietly. “You have found the extra sense you spoke of. It is fragile, though. A life of its own. Don’t try at it too hard or it will collapse. Have confidence it is there, and it will not fail you. Now let it go, and we’ll try that again.”

Cayan took a huge breath and opened his eyes. His power shriveled down into himself.

“Well, it seems you are really good at pushing it back down,” Shanti surmised.

“I’ve worked on it all day. I didn’t want a repeat of last night.”

“In my bed…” she muttered sulkily.

“It smelled good. Like fresh, clean woman.” He didn’t sound repentant.

“Yeah, well, you should put in a request to have your women bathe more often. Focus.”

They went through the exercise three more times, Cayan able to easily cast his power outwards by the end. Unfortunately, soon after, he pulled it all back in tightly again, not letting it expand. He had a lot of work to do.

“Okay, I think that’s it for tonight.” Shanti sighed deeply, curling her legs back under her and getting ready to find her peace.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I want to let my mind wander, soak up the life around me. I can’t do that when I am focused on you.”

“Can I… Is there a way…”

“Hitch a ride? Possibly, but chances are you will retreat when I start to spread out. Which is normal. Sit next to me.”

He changed positions, closed his eyes, and reached out his hand. She grabbed it, then startled when his fingers threaded with hers. Electricity worked its way up her arm and into her middle, quickening her heart. Making her breath speed up. Melting the ice of her past and letting the memories trickle out.

“That is more of an intimate hand hold,” she uttered in choked voice. “Usually it is resting hands together, like your handshake, rather than entwining them.”

“I need more contact than palms.” His voice wasn’t shaking, per se, but he was nervous. It was as if the man hadn’t done it a million times on his own before she‘d come. He just needed to get out of his own way.

Resigned, fighting the memories, Shanti said, “Open up your mind. After you do, I will connect with you and lead. You can just close your eyes and go for the ride. If you get…nervous, just let go of my hand. You can leave, then. I will continue on.”

He nodded. She waited for him to open up his power, needing only a couple prompts, then she connected gently, trying not to be distracted his hand squeezing hers. She expanded her mind with a heavy heart, unable to keep from thinking of her lost love. Thinking of the many times she had intertwined fingers with him. The warmth of his hands. The beauty of his face. Those deep brown, earth-colored eyes.

Her mind skipped, calling up her mother’s smiling face. So proud of Shanti for opening up at such a young age. Nearly four. It had been a record. They’d worked together all afternoon in the soft sunshine, her mother holding both her hands and encouraging with jokes and laughter. Keeping it light. Fun.