Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (29 page)

“What am I supposed to see, Kiernan?” Sorcha asked. “A Warder who says he owns me? So that means you get to rule my life? I don’t want that, Kiernan. I don’t want to be bonded. I don’t want to be owned. I want to find my friends and live my life. Alone. Without anyone telling me what to do.”

“Sorcha,” Kiernan began, then, seeing the elevator door open, he lunged for her.

She was ready for him. A fireball, smaller than the ones she’d used on Aiden but still potent, shot out of her hands. It struck Kiernan in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. He fell on his ass, losing just enough time for her to jump in the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. The doors slid shut. On the other side, she heard a shuffle, then a crash.

The ride to the garage seemed to take forever. As the doors slid open, she raced for the exit to the street. She wasn’t surprised to find it locked, the deadbolt disengaged from the knob on the door. The elevator closed behind her, the motor whirring as Kiernan called it back to the level above. He’d disabled the exit and locked her in, just as he’d promised he would.
Fucking asshole.
In a million years, she’d never have thought they’d be here, Sorcha running from him, Kiernan trying to shut her away. She’d known he would break her heart. But not like this.

Gathering heat, sucking it from the air, from her body, from the electricity in the wall, she went after the keypad beside the door. The air in the room chilled until Sorcha’s breath puffed in clouds of white. A spark, a crackle, and the wires beneath her hands melted. The stench of burnt plastic drifted from the ruined keypad. With a quick tug, she released the lock and pulled the door open. Before the elevator made it back down, she was outside.

Aware that Kiernan was just behind her, Sorcha pushed the door shut and pressed her hands into the frame, superheating the metal until it had the consistency of soft pudding. She used her Tk to smoosh it together, blending the doorframe with the door. In a rush, she pulled warmth away until the metal was solid once more. It was cracked in places and an ugly mess, but the door wasn’t going to open any time soon. She was sure Kiernan had another way out, but this would slow him down long enough for her to get away.

Sorcha didn’t even know where she was going. She started off down the street at a sprint, making random turns as she went in case Kiernan was close behind. Her brain bounced around their conversation, not ready to think about it yet. Her body just wanted to run, to put as much space between Kiernan and herself as she could.

What had he meant, they were bonded? The whole idea was insane. Yes, Conner and Hannah had bonded. But just because it had happened once didn’t mean it was going to happen to every Shadow who bumped into a Warder. She liked Kiernan. Was more than just attracted to him. But bonding? Iris had said bonding was forever. Permanent. She didn’t want this.

Even if Kiernan wasn’t being such an ass, she wouldn’t want to be bonded. Before her powers had surged, sending her back to the Sanctuary, she might have been open to the idea of a relationship. There had been times when she’d been lonely; going back to her small apartment after patrol, wishing she’d had company. More than just a temporary lover. Someone to share her life with.

Shadows didn’t do long-term much more than the Warders. They were just more laid back about it. Couples tended to stick together when they had children. At least when the children were young. After that, most Shadows drifted in and out of affairs. In her most secret heart, Sorcha had dreamt of something more. But that was a long time ago.

After a decade of being stuck in the Sanctuary, Sorcha just wanted to be free. To run her own life. And here she was, days out of that prison, and another male was trying to rule her.
Fuck that.
Kiernan could take his amazing body and his unbelievable orgasms and shove them up his ass. A hard hand closed on her upper arm, dragging her backward into the dark of a narrow alley. Exasperated rage shot through her. Couldn’t she storm off without Kiernan controlling that too?

Sorcha spun around to confront him and stumbled back in shock. Not Kiernan. Steven stood before her, long fingers branding her arm with his tight grip. He shook her, rattling her teeth, his eyes wild.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” he spit out.

He shook her again, knocking her off balance. Sorcha went down hard, ass hitting the concrete in a painful jolt. She tried to gather fire, but her hands were stone cold. The fire had deserted her. Steven held fast to her arm, dragging her to the side. She scrambled, trying to get back on her feet. Where the hell had Steven come from? She’d left him burned and unconscious at the Sanctuary. He seemed healthy enough now, if a little insane. He pulled her up and grabbed her other arm, continuing to shake. Sorcha twisted and yanked at him, but she couldn’t get free.

“Steven, let me go,” she yelled, jerking back on his grip. His hands were iron cuffs, unmovable. Sorcha kicked at him, catching him on the side of his knee. He stumbled but didn’t release her. There was pressure on her head, along with pinpricks at her temples.

“Let me in,” Steven screamed in her face, spittle erupting from his tight lips. “How are you keeping me out? I made your shield. It’s mine. Your mind is mine. You can’t escape me.”

At that, Sorcha understood the pressure and the pinpricks. He was trying to get past her shield and he couldn’t. The stabbing pain of his previous invasions was absent. Her mind was free. Except that it wasn’t. In a moment of crystal clear awareness, Sorcha knew she wasn’t alone. Days ago, she’d had the sense that Kiernan’s energy was reinforcing her shield. She hadn’t investigated further, distracted by the search for Caerwyn, and relieved that she was holding up under the pressure of a crowded city.

But now, with Steven scrabbling for entry, she could feel Kiernan. Woven into the very fabric of her mind, his energy filled the gaps in her defenses with a power Steven couldn’t touch. Kiernan’s Warder energy combined with her own created a unique blend that was alien to Steven, too alien to breech. It had changed the nature of her power, making it just different enough to block any invasion Steven could devise.

Finally, after a lifetime of being subjected to his abusive whims, Sorcha was free of Steven. Because she was bonded to Kiernan. How was that for a one-two punch? Freedom from her nemesis, in return for a lifetime commitment to a virtual stranger. A voice in the back of Sorcha’s head told her she wasn’t being fair, but she couldn’t quite care. Not while she was still listening to Steven rage at her.

“What have you done to yourself? How are you blocking me?” Apparently finished with the yelling, Steven released one of her arms, twisting the other behind her back. He switched his grip and wrapped his free arm around her neck, dragging her close. His mouth beside her ear, he hissed, “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me. To realize where you belonged. You’re mine, and I’m done with waiting.” Steven pulled back on her neck, cutting off her airway.

Sorcha struggled, reaching again for her fire and getting nothing. Steven might not be able to invade her mind, but he was still somehow able to suppress her fire.

“How could you leave with him? With a Warder?” Steven spit out the word, as if Warders were lower than demons. “Whoring yourself, letting him touch what’s mine. You’re going to—”

Before he could finish the thought, Steven’s body was ripped away. Sorcha hit the pavement on her hands and knees and looked up to see Kiernan throw Steven to the asphalt. A heartbeat later, Kiernan was on top of him, landing a hard punch in Steven’s face. Then another. It was the fight in her cottage all over again. Sorcha wasn’t sure what to think. She was grateful for the rescue. Steven was stronger than she was. Without her fire, Sorcha might not have been able to fight him off. If he hadn’t taken her by surprise—but he had.

And now she had to decide. Should she take advantage of their distraction and run? Help Kiernan destroy Steven? If she didn’t stop him, that was exactly what would happen. Kiernan straddled Steven’s prone body, delivering hit after hit. Steven never had a chance to try to invade Kiernan’s mind. Or maybe he couldn’t. Maybe the bond made Kiernan’s mind as impenetrable as it had made her own. Regardless, Steven was defenseless, and Kiernan was going to kill him.

A small, dark part of Sorcha didn’t care. It told her to go, to look out for herself. The rest of her, the part with a working conscience, knew she didn’t want Kiernan to live with murdering Steven. Whatever was going to come of them, she owed him more than that.

Reaching out, she felt for Kiernan’s emotions. He was always restrained, at least from her. That alone should have tipped her off to the bond. Different usually meant something. Sorcha had been so distracted by their mission, and hot to get into bed with him, she hadn’t paid enough attention. Shaking off the thought, she pushed into him until she felt it. Rage. A fire all its own, fierce and potent in Kiernan’s mind and heart. She drew it off, absorbing it into herself, letting her empathic talent break down the force of his anger until it was just energy. She kept what she needed, and shook the excess out of her hands in twinkling sparks.

Kiernan’s punches had slowed. Feeling his emotions settle, she approached and said his name. Kiernan sat back, shaking his head. His clenched fists dripped with blood. Sorcha avoided looking at Steven’s face. He was alive. Any damage would heal. She refused to feel sorry for him. He might deserve to live, but he didn’t deserve any more of her attention. Instead, she reached out for Kiernan. He lifted his hand to meet her halfway, then caught sight of the blood on his knuckles and dropped it back to his side.

Kiernan stood, studying Sorcha before looking down at Steven’s prone body. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded. “Where the fuck did he come from?”

Sorcha shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, still a little thrown by the whole thing. “I was walking down the street and he grabbed me.”

“What do you want to do with him?” Kiernan asked.

They both looked down at Steven, his long, stork-like body splayed in the street, face swollen and bloody.

“Leave him,” Sorcha said, turning away from Steven. She took a step toward Kiernan. “I don’t care what happens to him. He can find his own way back to the Sanctuary. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

“Fine with me.” Kiernan watched her, his beautiful eyes careful. “Are you coming home?”

Sorcha stared back, thinking over her options. There was really only one. She didn’t answer him, just turned to retrace her steps back to the loft. Kiernan fell into step beside her. She’d managed to cover some distance in her flight from Kiernan’s loft. They walked in silence, not touching except for the brush of her shoulder against his arm. Less than ten minutes later, Kiernan led Sorcha to a narrow door in an alley a block from his building. She followed him into a dark hallway lit by recessed yellow bulbs.

They descended an equally narrow staircase, turned a corner, and wound their way down a long hall, turning here and there. A few minutes after they’d entered the underground maze, Kiernan opened a black door and climbed a steep set of stairs. Sorcha wasn’t the least bit surprised when they emerged in the corner of his garage. Shaking her head, she refrained from comment and followed him to the elevator. Another time, she would have said something smart-ass about Kiernan thinking he was a secret agent. Tonight, she wasn’t in the mood.

They stood in opposite corners of the small elevator. Sorcha felt Kiernan’s eyes on her. She didn’t return his gaze. She was tired. She felt dirty. Dealing with Kiernan was the last thing she wanted to do. She left the elevator and faced him, looking past him as the door slid shut. She really couldn’t leave now. If she had to, she could follow their traces back through that maze of hallways. But not faster than Kiernan could chase her. That was a problem for tomorrow.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said. A shower, then sleep. That was all she wanted. All her overloaded brain could handle. Sorcha avoided Kiernan’s eyes and headed straight for his plush, marble bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she turned the spray as hot as she could stand it and let the steaming water wash everything away. Her exhaustion. Her worry. The awful fight with Kiernan. Steven trying to drag her back to the Sanctuary. Sorcha let all of it swirl down the drain, chased away by the soothing water and fragrant soap. And by Kiernan. As much as Sorcha didn’t want to deal with it, she could feel their bond. Unwelcome as it was, it calmed her anger just as she’d eased Kiernan’s, fitting into her so naturally she understood how she hadn’t noticed it.

Wrapping herself in a thick towel, she rubbed in her lotion and left the bathroom in search of something to sleep in. A t-shirt of Kiernan’s, carelessly tossed on the end of the bed, looked clean enough. Sorcha pulled it on and saw the plate on the bedside table. He’d brought her pizza. And it was hot. She felt her resistance melting already. Kiernan could have made her come out and face him if she was hungry. Instead, he’d known what she would want and hadn’t made her ask for it. That had to mean something. She’d figure out exactly what in the morning.

Chapter Sixteen