Wilder Mage (14 page)

“Hey, now. None of that,” he said, shoving the pushy horse to the side. He broke the bale, jerking the twine off each end and scattered the hay into a round, knee-high bin. Two long strides, and he popped over the fence with a one-handed jump on the top rail.

“You’ve fed them before,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, why?”

Her soft laugh barely made a sound. “You ignored the bossy one and gave her a shove. First time I did it, I thought she was going to run over me.”

“She would too if you didn’t stand your ground.”

“Just goes to show, you’ve got to be firm sometimes.”

She could barely see his face in the dark, but she was sure he was glaring at her.

He pointed at the path to the house. “Come on.”

“What?” she said startled. He had started down the dark trail. “But, but…”

He turned back, his face lost in the shadows.

“Your car is back there, you’ll have to walk back by yourself,” she said.

Justus shrugged and turned back to the path. “So, I go the long way around this time. At least I’ll get you home safe. Like I told Emmett I would.” His voice was rough again, uncaring.

She followed him to the edge of the clearing, where he held back the branches of a low-hanging tree, bemused with his brusque voice. It made no sense.

Why offer to get her home, help her with the horses, and then act as if he was angry again? She did not understand men.

They left the sounds and aromas of the squabbling horses behind them as the night crowded down. Here, the stars ruled the night and their magnificence paled any feeble attempt of man. The brilliant span of the Milky Way hung over their path, and Sable found the few constellations she knew; Pisces, Cassiopeia, and the Hunter Orion and its stars, Rigel, Bellatrix, and Saiph. The fourth star made her smile, bringing back memories of a friend who laughingly told her of Betelgeuse or ‘beetle juice.’ It brought back those days in junior high before she learned the truth about her future. A long time ago—eons, it seemed.

“You can almost touch them,” Justus said, his voice low.

His words covered her abrasive memories in a bath of warm honey, excluding them from this moment. She could see the shadow he made against the stars, looking up at the same starry carpet overhead.

“You’re a stargazer?” Sable asked.

He nodded without speaking. The stars continued their extravagant show as they walked under them in silence.

A gentle breeze swirled around them as the trees thinned and they walked into the pasture that bordered the McIntyres’ yard. A gust of wind caught her hair, sweeping it into wild tangles around her face.

“Ah, wait,” she said. Sable stopped and tried to use her shoulder to brush the strands out of her mouth, the crystal rocking. She steadied the ball and started to tuck it under her arm.

“Here,” Justus said. He stood in front of her, standing with the starlight on him. His face shone pale in the dim light and his hair moved in the breeze as if alive. He lifted his hand to her face and slid gentle fingers between the hair and her cheekbone, combing the locks away as he did, leaving a trail of fire on her face. Sable heard his breath catch. She looked up at the starlight reflected in his eyes as his hand settled behind her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. But then, without speaking, he released her neck, and she felt a sense of loss and then confusion when he took the crystal from her hand and set it on the ground.

He returned to stand over her.

In slow motion, as if nothing remained of the real world, Sable watched as his eyes dropped to her lips and his mouth parted as he bent down to her. The hand on the back of her neck pulled her gently to him. Softly, softly he touched her lips with his and then drew back. Still so close she could feel his breath on her face, she felt his hand tremble, and again, his mouth touched hers. He drew away again and exhaled sharply.

One arm snaked around her waist, the other to the familiar spot behind her head, and he bent to her again, a low groan in the back of his throat when his mouth found hers again.

Pulling her into him, angling her head to nestle into the hollow of his shoulder, his mouth parted her lips gently but with authority.

For a while, her mind was in shock, his sudden change in personality causing her to feel nothing but confusion as she passively submitted. But when he gently parted her lips and kissed her so deeply, her mind and body responded, joining seamlessly against him. Time seemed to stop. His mouth moved against hers, and she responded, causing his arms to tighten around her as her fingers dug into his back. All her vows to avoid times like this fled her mind.

For Sable, her only reality was his hard body, mouth and the low sounds he made as he held her so close. She felt nothing else, was conscious of no other truth but his mouth on hers.

So at first, she didn’t notice the curl of energy gathering in her, just at the edge of her senses. It was alive with
power
, mounting in ever-increasing surges, tingling in electric surges, whipping into a corporeal animal. Gathering, swirling into life, it spun around her, crackling with fire.

He suddenly broke free and pushed her back, staring at her from arm’s length, his panting in time with hers. She tried to suck in enough air, her mind in jumbled disarray, dimly aware of the collapse of the energies that had gathered around her, leaving only the remembered tingle in her fingertips. As she watched, she saw his face tighten, and he shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

Sable felt the sickness begin in the pit of her stomach and the regret of her unwanted, undesired talent. Something from her stupid,
stupid
powers had touched him, probably burning or shocking him, and now he probably thought she had a taser on her. She felt her eyes sting with tears, but in the next moment, steeled herself to face him.

Justus stood looking around her, his expression hard. He stared, his eyes roving wildly, as if unable to look at her. Angry and annoyed that she had dropped into his life probably, complicating his set routine.

“Don’t worry,” Sable said in a flat voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He jerked away from her. “Why? Are you taking the blame?” he asked gruffly. The sound of his voice mixed with the dark shadows of the night. “I have as much to do with this as you do.”

She shrugged and looked down for the box. “You should stay away from me,” she said without looking at him. “I’m already broken.”

Her voice sounded hoarse, even to her.

He bent to pick up the box, and the black chain he always wore around his neck slipped free. At the end of the chain, a small object dangled, and as he straightened, the oval disc settled on his chest. The dark medallion was the size of a quarter, with a hole punched in it for the chain, and had no set or design she could see. Oval-shaped, it was a mud-colored stone with a rounded edge.

Without thought, she reached out and took the stone into her fingers, rubbing it. Justus froze, staring down at her, his body tense. He held the box and waited.

“What is this?” she murmured softly. “You always wear it, so it must mean something, come from someone special.”

Idly, she noted the smooth surface of the stone as she rubbed it.

“My father, before he died. He gave it to me.”

“Hmmm, it’s very warm,” she said thoughtfully and released the stone. She turned in the direction of the house.

Talk. Say anything, but talk
, she thought.

“How did he die?”

“He was a structural engineer. He designed bridges and the supports for them,” Justus said.

He followed behind her as she made her way down the trail. She could see the house and the backyard lights shining through the bushes and was grateful the humiliating journey was almost over. When he stopped speaking, Sable wondered if anything could make him talk to her again. The curt, brusque tone did not brook mutual conversation, so she was surprised when he continued in a normal voice.

“He was inspecting a partially completed bridge designed by another engineer, slipped, and fell into the river.” He shrugged when she turned to look at him and stopped. “It was twelve years ago. ‘Time heals all wounds…’ Well, you know the saying. Anyway, they never found his body and he died there. End of story.”

He started to brush past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. For a moment, he looked down at her with veiled eyes. Then he broke free and strode to the house, brushing through the bushes on the edge of the property.

His next words were very low, nearly inaudible.

“You’re not the only one broken.”

Sable hesitated, then followed him through the bushes.

From the back yard, she heard Emmett in the house. “It’s just a phone call. It’s not like we weren’t expecting him to call some day.” His voice was gruff.

“Yes, well, ‘expecting’ something doesn’t make it easier. And how are we going to tell him?”

“We can’t tell him. Not yet. It might mean trouble later on. We just have to…go with the flow for now and let him come here.”

“I wish he hadn’t called,” Maggie said.

“Yeah,” said Emmett. “Me too. More problems for us.”

Justus stopped at the edge of the patio. “Hello the house,” he called out.

Sable heard Emmett grunt. “Guess they came in the back way.” Emmett was there at the back door, peering into the night.

Justus held back for a moment, his eyes still hard as Sable brushed past him and into the kitchen. She sniffed.

This was for the best anyway—his snippy attitude, that is. Probably regretting the kiss and wishing it had never happened, and even now, the anger she saw in his face made her emotions churn. No more weakness. No more stupid hormones that threatened to pull her into the iron grip of the Imperium.

No more, she thought viciously. Never again.

“There,” Dayne yelled again as he slapped his thigh. “She’s right there. That’s her signature, exactly where she was before. The
tener unus
never left the area.”

The spot of iridescent light on the upright crystal board glimmered fitfully and, even as he watched, slowly dimmed. The board, marked with maps and the region’s geography, stood in the darkened control room. The assistant twitched nervously as Tiarra stood over his shoulder, silently staring at the board.

She nodded and tapped one long red-polished nail on her cheek. “Both of you. I want to see both of you tomorrow,” she said ignoring the assistant’s loud swallow. She looked at Dayne. “You and your woman.”

His assistant relaxed, but Dayne’s jaw clenched.

Chapter Eleven

“B
oth of us?” Macy squeaked.

Dayne nodded and stirred the instant coffee into his cup. With the focused energy of his Fire element, he warmed the water and then dumped creamer into the now-steaming cup.

“She said she wanted to see both of us,” he said.

Dayne avoided looking at her and sipped the hot coffee, then immediately sucked air to cool his tongue. Before she noticed, he siphoned some of the heat from the water and released it into the air around him. His focus had been more on the surface of the cup than on the liquid. Guess he wasn’t as calm as he thought if he couldn’t remember how to heat his own damn coffee.

He tried sipping it again. Perfect.

“We’ll manage. Don’t worry, Macy. It’s not…” He stopped when she looked at him with snapping eyes. “We knew it was going to happen eventually,” he finished lamely.

For a moment, she still looked at him, her eyes narrowed, but then she wilted. Macy plopped into the kitchen chair and dropped her head into her hands. “I had hoped it would be later, much later,” she said, her voice muffled.

Dayne pulled a chair next to her and rubbed her knee. He had no idea what to say to make it better.

“And this is because of the
tener unus
, that girl?” Her muted voice came from behind her hands.

“Yes. Tiarra said both of us were to report. I suppose she wants to meet you and see what you can do. Maybe you’ll take part in this mission, I don’t know. Tiarra doesn’t exactly share information.”

“Why is she doing this?”

“Because she can. She is the head, and it is for the best.”

Macy dropped her hands and looked at Dayne. Her face changed, hardened.

“Really. It is for the
best
. Like what she does is always right and to be followed without question. For the
best
,” she said, her voice oily with sarcasm.

“She has a difficult job and…”

He stopped when Macy drew her lips from her clenched teeth. Then she flinched and closed her eyes.

“Headache again?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little one.”

Anytime they argued over the Imperium and Tiarra, Macy had begun to have headaches. Now, especially with the discovery of the location of the
tener unus
, they had become more frequent.

Stress had to be a part of it
, he thought.

Macy massaged her temples as she spoke, her eyes still closed. “And don’t even start with what a difficult job Tiarra has. Well, let’s get this over with, then.” Her voice held a thread of anger as she stood. “I don’t have all day.” Her face was pale, but determined.