Rising Darkness (Game of Shadows #1)(52)

Now you are as you were meant to be, Daughter of the Sun, said the dragon.

Before either she or Michael could say anything, it launched with a forcefulness that buffeted them to the ground. When it winged away, the trees in the nearby forest bent and swayed as though from a violent wind.

She lay limp in the circle of Michael’s arms, at first too replete and weak to move. She had forgotten the simple miracle of feeling whole.

She had, in fact, never known the feeling in this life. Tears spilled down her face. A muscle in Michael’s lean jaw worked. He turned from watching the dragon’s flight to press his lips against her forehead. His arms were clenched so tightly on her, she could feel his heart beating, too fast, as if he had been running for miles.

She looked up at him with pity and thought, he doesn’t remember that he killed me.

Chapter Seventeen

MICHAEL KNELT ON the ground and held Mary, her head cradled in the crook of one arm as he stared into her eyes. They were as beautiful as the rest of her, jeweled and bright, a vivid, aquamarine blue. She gazed back at him, her expression grave, even compassionate, although he did not understand why she would look at him like that.

She was a game changer. This was a game changer.

He became aware that he gripped her too tightly again. He clutched at her as if he were afraid she might melt into nothing. He forced his arms to loosen.

She gave him a small, tentative smile. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”

He ran a hand down her slim torso, probing mentally at her energy. To his careful scrutiny, she felt burnished and whole. She felt magnificent. Sharp terror for her had spiked then vaporized, leaving behind a vast, dizzying void that made his ears ring.

He whispered, “It’s so much better now.”

She put a hand over his as it rested on her flat abdomen. “They can’t trace me like this anymore, can they?”

“No, they can’t,” he said. “You’re no longer shining like a beacon in the psychic realm, which means our day just got much better.” He lifted his head to study the field and the nearby buildings, frowning.

Her smile vanished. She sat up, out of his arms, and looked around too. “Then what’s wrong?”

“You know how I said there are predators in the psychic realm?” He glanced down at her. “Some have gathered around, hoping to feed, but they can’t hurt you now. Still, we need to leave this place.”

She struggled to get to her feet. Her movements were slow and clumsy, and it was clear that she was hurting. The dragon’s healing had been purely psychic, so she still retained all the physical soreness from her earlier injuries. Before he thought about it, he slipped an arm around her and lifted her upright.

She gave him another guarded glance, murmuring thanks. Why did she look at him like that?

His head was splitting. The pain was so bad it made his eyes throb. Despite the fact that she had changed the game, and they were no longer in quite the imminent danger of discovery that they had been, the sense of an oncoming crisis crushed down on him. He shook his head to try to clear it, to expand his senses to check their immediate surroundings. It was a mistake, and it made his head pound worse than before.

He managed to say, “Get in the car. I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated and looked as if she were about to say something. Then she must have changed her mind, because she limped toward the car without a word.

Changing the game. Changing everything.

I don’t know you and Astra any longer, she had said. And I’ll be responsible for my own healing.

Grimly he went into station to pay for the gas and buy yet more coffee, along with a travel packet of pain reliever. He tore the packet open with his teeth and dry swallowed the pills before scooping up the coffee cups and pushing through the door.

Mary’s declaration was an outright statement of distrust. He couldn’t blame her. What she said, after all, was only the truth.

But how would Astra respond to Mary’s unpredictability, or her rejection of reliance on either one of them?

* * *

MARY CLIMBED BACK into the passenger seat of the car, still trembling and moving with care. She watched Michael step outside the station with two disposable cups. His expression was set in bleak lines, the skin around his eyes tight.

When he climbed in the driver’s seat, she held her hand out for her coffee. She said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He didn’t look at her as he started the car, glanced around and pulled onto the road.

“For what I said about you and Astra.” She sipped the steaming hot liquid and lifted her eyebrows. The filthy little gas station produced a delicious cup of joe. Who knew?

“You only spoke the truth. You don’t know Astra or me any longer.” His voice was toneless. He was back to the stoicism of the soldier survivor. The car sped up to the speed limit and held steady.

She fastened the lid back on her cup. No matter how good it was, she couldn’t face another swallow of coffee. Then she put a hand on his thigh. Under the covering of his jeans, his powerful muscle tightened at her touch. “What I said was only one version of truth, which can sometimes be as hurtful and misleading as a lie. I trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” His expression remained closed, harsh.

“Maybe I didn’t,” she said. “But I do now. Or at least I trust you far more than I did a few hours ago. But we’ve still had a long separation, and we’ve all changed. We need to get reacquainted with each other, with who we are right now.”