Shadow Touched (12 page)

He had no choice but to wake Ellie. He shook her, and her lids fluttered. She lifted her head, but the words that came out were slurred, unrecognizable.

“Cam,” her shadow said.

He shook Ellie harder. She had to wake. At least the shadow’s interest seemed fixated on him . . . for the moment. Then again, her shadow’s skin was fully opaque, and not a transparent gradient of grey. Opaque was the sign of very strong feeling. Overwhelming feeling. A feeling strong enough to break away from the flesh?

Cam shook Ellie again, sharply.

“I’m up-up,” Ellie said more clearly, but her eyes were closed, expression plastered. This was not a woman capable of controlling anything but her bladder.

Next time, no pill. No pill ever again.

He exited the small room, followed by the shadow.

Think. How could this happen? He turned to face the shadow. “Why now?”

Not that he expected a complex answer.

On the contrary, her answer was very simple. “I love you.”

The words stole Cam’s breath. He and Ellie had been in serious territory since day one, of course, but things had not been going well lately. No, they had not. In fact, not a day went by when Ellie didn’t push him away. And today had been awful, very difficult for her. Yet somehow she’d come to this.

For her shadow to say such a thing . . . wow. Love.

Meant the feeling went all the way down deep. She was his.

He looked toward the open doorway. Wanted to kiss her, squeeze her tight, but she was in no shape to reciprocate. She was so brave, beautiful, smart . . . and her shadow was staggering. Together they were more than he could have ever wanted in a woman.

When she woke up, then—

No, wait. This was more like a diary confession. Ellie might not know, might still be working toward the realization. Might not be ready.

“Love me,” her shadow said, advancing to wrap her arms around him.

He resisted, though the press of her body was . . . well, problematic. He could feel the flush of heat on his neck, the hammer strike of his heartbeat at his broken nose. He pulled her silky arms from his neck. “You need to sleep. I want you to sleep.”

“I am asleep,” she agreed. “And I love you.” She kissed him, except this kiss wasn’t like any of flesh and blood. She was pure energy and instinct wrapped in satin. Erotic as hell. A sci-fi goddess right out of his pubescent fantasies. That she was real made him giddy every day.

But this wasn’t Ellie’s conscious choice.

The shadow pulled back to look at him. He’d never seen her look hurt, until now.

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t do this,” he said. Not to her. Not to the woman who trusted him, when trusting anyone was so hard. “You’ll hate me.”

Ellie’s shadow drew back, her posture hollowed, expression stricken. “You don’t love me. I knew you didn’t love me. How could you love
me?
”

But he couldn’t reject her, he realized. Not this most vulnerable part of Ellie, who didn’t understand anything but absolutes.

“That’s not true,” he said, though he could easily see how she’d feel that way, considering her background. And theirs. He’d
shot
her.

“I . . .” He wasn’t ready to say it either, and not to the shadow first . . . or maybe the shadow was the one that really mattered—he had no idea anymore, but... “I do love you. You know that.”

The shadow’s dusky body took on a grey-gold hue, also new. He blinked and she was on him, smooth arms at his neck, her mouth fitted to his. Dexterous fingers worked at his pants, parted his shirt. Skin like taut energy buzzed against his own. His ribs ached, his groin ached, his head boomed with the rush of blood. He’d been aching to hold her like this for so long.

He didn’t know what to do—if he rejected the shadow, she would never again trust him, not really. She would always be unsure. The deepest part of Ellie, unsure of him.

“Love me,” the shadow said. She had him in her grasp, stroked long. Arched against him, looked up at him with that expression of joy that now closed his throat.

Or was he just talking himself around to doing what he wanted deep down?

He wanted.

Ellie at least he could reason with. Ellie could understand. Could forgive?

Her shadow, never.

Which part of her would he betray?

Or had he been struck stupid by four months of acute, denied lust, and a female like no other unlocking his resolve with each caress?

He bowed his head to her breasts, full, gorgeous, made for his mouth and palm. The texture of her skin was phantom silk, not human, not blood-warm, but dizzyingly hot anyway.

The shadow straddled him, one leg wrapped around his waist, the other knee drawn up to his side. Gravity meant nothing, though his hand sought the curve of her perfect ass.

He wanted Ellie, all of her, but he’d take half rather than lose her altogether. And he would be a willing participant in disaster. Always willing with Ellie. She could have whatever she wanted of him.

Cam pulled back enough to look into the eyes of half her soul. “I do love you. Will you remember?” Would she carry the knowledge to her other self?

He cradled the shadow in his arms, held her for the first time, to discover that the way she moved against him was all feeling, all emotion constrained in a woman-shaped package. He kissed her back, deeply. Her arms clasped him, fingers in his hair, hips flaring. He braced against the table and took her, thrusting into darkness—so tight, so slick—until he shuddered against her. The release rushed through his blood, his aches erased in the flood of satisfaction. Ellie, in any form, was his everything.

From the next room, Ellie cried out in pleasure in her sleep. “Cam!”

A good dream, he hoped.

And the shadow evaporated from his embrace, leaving him holding nothing.

Which was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

E
llie woke early, feeling rested and strong, and had no problem keeping an easy union with her shadow, who seemed . . . content, satisfied, and happily curious about the day. She was in a good mood. Ellie’s nerves were jumpy, but that was to be expected. Today she would try something important and dangerous. But today, she felt like she could do anything.

Cam was in meetings when she woke, but she wasn’t going to hide away from the others on site, embarrassed by her unusual predicament. The very problem that had overshadowed her life was going to save another. She felt pride in that.

She showered in one of the mobile stalls. She ate a light breakfast. And if the other people in the small compound stared, so what? When she was ready, she found Cam in one of the labs informing an unfamiliar man that it would be impossible for Ms. Russo to translate word for word any of the fae’s utterances, and that he would see why shortly.

Cam!
her shadow shouted inside.

He glanced over as she entered. The poor man couldn’t have looked worse. Bruising had spread underneath both his eyes, which were shockingly bloodshot, yet still wonderful.

“Dr. March,” Cam said, “this is Eleanor Russo.”

She shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“I understand you speak fae?” March was whip-thin and leaned toward her with interest.

“Only part of me does.” Let him chew on that.

She looked back at Cam.
Dashing. Fearsome.
Felt that glow that made her want to laugh aloud. “What’s the schedule? I’m a little anxious to get started.”

“Great,” he answered, briefly narrowing his eyes at her in a funny way, as if trying to figure out why she was so happy. “An interview with the fae first. If nothing exceptional happens”—he chuckled as if he didn’t believe in anything going smoothly—“we’ll go for the waterfall.”

“Any sign of the mage?” But she thought she had her answer. The mood of the day was work, not fear.

“No, but you should meet Specialist Dr. Hasler, who is assigned to gather information on the mage. He’s interviewing witnesses from last night now. And there’s a metallurgist around here somewhere, but he won’t be joining us later. That knife has got his full attention.”

The metallurgist didn’t worry her, but Dr. Hasler’s witnesses would report about her shadow’s exciting demonstration in addition to the mage. She’d have to look at the transcripts later, find out what people really thought.

Cam returned his attention to the linguist. “We’ll see you at nine, then. Be prepared for anything.” He got up and gestured to Ellie to exit the unit.

They went back outside. The sky above was already more blue than any other she’d seen before. The red earth and temp research station made her think they could be on Mars. The scent in the air sparkled in her lungs.

“I need to talk to you.” Cam took her by the arm and led her a little distance away, into the scrub and low trees beyond the camp.

“Sure.” She’d like a minute alone with him anyway. Just the two of them, checking in with each other before the start of the day. This was what she wanted.

I want Cam,
her shadow said.

His mood seemed more direct, grim. He closed his eyes for a long moment, which she knew meant he was choosing his words, but his sentence confused her anyway. “Last night after you went to sleep, your shadow went walking.”

Shhh.
She cocked her head. “Um . . .” That wasn’t possible.

“I tried to wake you,” he continued, “but you were deeply asleep. Your shadow was lucid, however.”

She had no memory of this, but her face was burning anyway. She knew what her shadow was capable of, all of it untoward. Her high plummeted.

She put her hand to a low, twisted tree branch. Picked at the bark. Her heart wasn’t pumping right.

“Ellie,” he said.

She whipped her attention back. “Yeah. Just . . . processing.” Huge breath. “Did I do anything interesting?”

Of course she had. Her shadow was nothing if not interesting. Damn it, tears were pricking her eyes.

“
We
did,” he said.

His words spiked her belly. “We?”

“We.”

And she knew exactly what it was they’d done. Her shadow was telling her.

For the first time in four months, she wanted to be back on her shabby farm in her isolated life. She’d seen this kind of thing on TV shows, where the girl wakes up in bed with a stranger, a whole lot of humiliation, and no memory of what had transpired.

But this was Cam.

The colors out here were too damn bright. Hurt her head.

“Anything else happen?”

“No,” he answered. “Your shadow disappeared afterward.”

What did she expect? He was human. And she hadn’t been there to control her shadow. She understood. It was shitty, but she got it. Nobody was perfect.

“And when you get over it—”

She made to slap his face, but he stopped her at her wrist. Gripped firmly.

“When you get
past your anger,
” he rephrased. “I’m taking you to meet my family.”

She snorted. “Like hell—”

She’d trusted him. How could she trust him, anyone, now?

And not even an apology.

Why? Because he wasn’t sorry.

“I want to take care of you. Take us to the next level.” He let her go. “It’s bound to be rocky at times, but we can handle it.”

“Take care of me?” she spat.

He sighed heavily, then started walking back to the camp. “We’ll talk about this more later. There’s too much going on right now to get into it. The point is, you’re meeting my mother,” he said as he went. “God help you.”

 

Just keep walking,
Cam told himself. He’d dropped the bomb, which he’d had to do to keep any kind of trust with her. Done. And then he’d gone for a distraction, not unlike,
Look, over there!

It’d taken him every available moment last night to come up with his strategy. Two women in this world scared him: Ellie (oddly, not her shadow) and his mom (who could dissect him with a glance, though he’d been out of the house for over fifteen years). It was brilliant on his part to threaten the former with the latter. And it furthered his ultimate plans for his and Ellie’s future. And finally, it said that things had gotten very serious between them. Mom-meeting-serious. Why else would he bring her home to meet the family?

He wouldn’t say he’d slept with her shadow because she’d said she loved him. He wanted that admission to come from Ellie herself, all of her at once. He wanted her to choose to say it, not be forced to admit it when she was embarrassed about what her shadow might have done.

Fast footsteps at his back had him slightly turning his head. Ellie sped by, making sure she didn’t touch him. Yep, angry. Fine.

The icy, “I quit after this,” however, was not part of his plan.

 

Ellie would not allow anyone other than herself to be responsible for her shadow, not even Cam.
Take care of her.
She didn’t want a keeper, especially someone who, even under duress, might take liberties. Or, worse, have to take them to stop her shadow from roaming.

She’d gone to Segue initially with the aim of being severed from her shadow. Not joined—severed. She didn’t want that
thing
darkening her life anymore. Well, now she had the perfect opportunity to accomplish that feat on her own.

She would send her shadow into Twilight after JT, save the kid if she could, but abandon her shadow there.

And then, for once, she’d be normal. She wouldn’t have to stand the scrutiny and pressure of this horrible condition. She wouldn’t have to worry about her shadow’s humping the first stick it encountered.

She could have a real life. Quit Segue. Work in a bookshop somewhere. No violence. No fear.

Hurt crushed her chest.
No love.

Ellie gritted her teeth and forged on back to the camp.

Well, she wouldn’t care as much about that if her shadow was gone, now would she?

 

Cam knew he’d gravely miscalculated when Ellie entered the cell unit to speak with the fae. She didn’t look angry; she looked remote, as if she’d decided something important.

Maybe he should’ve let her land that slap. His face couldn’t hurt more than it did already.

Or maybe when she split with her shadow again, here or in preparation to enter the waterfall, then the shadow itself would reveal the nature of their meeting to her—that they’d both said “I love you.” Problem was, the shadow was relentlessly about the now, and he didn’t think Ellie had any soft feelings at the moment.

He wanted her to enter Twilight with the sure knowledge that she had his complete support. That he wasn’t going anywhere. And that if anything happened, he wouldn’t rest until she was safe and whole again. He hoped the last four months had proved his feelings to her and that one impossible night wouldn’t derail their relationship.

The team that had gathered to witness the interview was waiting when Ellie entered: Dr. March had already set up his equipment. Col. Langer was now armed, though as far as Cam was concerned, Ellie’s shadow would be more than able to keep everyone safe. Dr. Grant would watch from outside.

The behavior of the fae was listless. She hadn’t taken food or water, had neither rested, nor expressed the need to rest. Cam figured that if she’d wanted to get out of the cell, she could have contrived a way to do so. But if the fae was nonviolent, passive even, as he suspected, what was its involvement in the abduction of JT? Or maybe the fae simply hadn’t had cause yet to be trouble in its own right. This was what Cam wanted to determine.

They entered the cell, and the fae stood up. The scent of the waterfall was stronger in here. She still had the aspect of the doctor whose form she’d taken—hair neatly brushed back, clothing pressed—but there was an insubstantiality, a lightness, that bothered Cam. Her eyes were widening as well, blackness within. A little more time, one hard push, and the fae might just whisk into Shadow. The fae was ailing.

One look at Ellie, and again the fae words flowed freely. It was trying to communicate. Cam’s hand signal, “stop, wait,” did not halt the skip of syllables.

Ellie moved to the back of the room, center; Dr. March stood to the side, eyes bugging, waiting for something to happen. Col. Langer stayed near the front, next to the fae. The door closed behind them.

Cam looked over at Ellie, who did
not
look back at him. Still angry. “When you’re ready, Ms. Russo.”

Immediately, the shadow darted out from her body, a blur of grey woman, but she headed straight for Cam, distress on her face. “Cam!” she wailed before Ellie yanked her viciously back.

The shadow lurched to a new trajectory, but still reached toward him. Was the reason for her unease the fight he and Ellie had just had? Or something else?

No. If the distress were due to a threat, the shade of her skin would be deepening, solidifying for a fight. This was about last night. A part of Ellie obviously still wanted him, which would only make her angrier. They had to resolve this situation. And soon.

Col. Langer and Dr. March had retreated a step from the dark goddess who had suddenly emerged in their midst. Cam ground his teeth together that they should ogle her nakedness. It got under his skin sometimes, which was one reason he preferred the quiet of his lab: He had Ellie to himself.

She forced her shadow to turn her head away from him and face the fae. Even wiped her shadow’s expression clean of feeling.

Langer and March seemed to be recovering, but hadn’t yet lifted their jaws off the floor.

Cam had never seen Ellie wield this kind of control. It was a cruel kind of mastery, a self-punishment maybe for the shadow’s unauthorized freedom last night. Ellie had been angry at times over the past four months, but the strong emotion had usually made her shadow even wilder.

He was wary of this new strength. Too much was changing: The declaration of love, when their relationship was more stressed; the shadow’s new ability to wander while Ellie slept; Ellie’s precision control of her shadow now. Were the two sides of Ellie more separate than ever, or were they in more perfect union? He couldn’t tell.

The shadow began to speak, the sounds similar to the fae’s, but neither was pausing for the listen and response of dialogue. The words should have collided between them, but instead ran on top of each other, twining, as if both fae and shadow listened and communicated at the same time.

Cam looked at Ellie, who’d closed her eyes, as if she didn’t like what she heard.

“Ellie?” Cam asked. He’d expected her shadow to interpret.

Ellie shook her head, struggling to understand. “I think she wants to die. I think she came here to die.”

Ellie translated while the shadow was the conduit. When they’d met the fae yesterday, Ellie had been in full union, like any other human being. Separated, displaced, she was able to decipher meaning where everyone else heard gibberish.

Dr. March stepped forward to examine the shadow close up, then glanced back at Ellie, then back at the shadow, this time gaze flicking down to her breasts, before correcting to her face. “How do you know what they are saying?”

“I don’t know. It just
seems
like that’s what she’s saying,” Ellie gritted out. “But yeah, I’m sure, she came here to die.”

Seems
was a very good word where Twilight was concerned. Cam ranged toward Ellie. “Does she say
why
she wants to die?”