Chapter Eleven

Amber swallowed at the sudden flash of desire that sparked in Damian’s hard gaze. How did he make her flush with heat with just a look? He shrugged on the worn leather jacket and rolled his shoulders to settle it on his frame.

“Every Energen is born with an affiliation to one element,” he said in answer to her question. “We use the energy to control that element. I can control the element of air.”

Her mind spiraled around that piece of information. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of scuffed, black leather boots. Finished, he stood. His transformation from stoic CEO to rebel fighter completed.

Her thoughts blanked and her lip took another beating from her teeth as she took in the hard-edged image of pure masculinity Damian presented. Her heart accelerated and her nipples tightened. It was as if the relatively useless and unnoticed peaks were suddenly demanding attention after years of being ignored. Not to mention the speed-dial link they seemed to have directly to the other ignored area between her thighs.

His kiss had turned her muscles to mush and seemed to have killed off some brain cells too. She should have resisted his touch, pulled away before his lips lured her back to trap her in this spell of lust. But it was virtually impossible to resist him. Her body responded to him, the energy, the pull he seemed to have on her despite the logic against it.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, stepping closer to her. Her lip throbbed in protest when she bit down harder to keep from retreating. “We’ve stayed too long, and I’m certain the Guard will be tracking our trail by now.”

“I need to go back to the shop,” she managed to insist through her parched throat.

His face turned hard, the lightness that had previously lifted it gone. “I told you, you can’t. Not anymore.”

The need for something normal made her push. “I need to check on my aunt. She’ll be worried when she returns to the shop and sees the destruction. She’s older, and I have to let her know I’m okay.”

“You can call her.”

She shook her head. “No. I need to see her. Please.” Amber was surprised at the quake in her voice. At how important this was to her. “After all that’s happened today, I need to see her to make sure she’s not hurt. Before I can go forward with whatever is happening to me, I need to know she isn’t harmed. I don’t want her to worry.”

He looked over her shoulder, his lips compressed in silent debate. “You understand that by going to her, you could be bringing the danger to her?”

It was risk she had to take. Something was pushing her to go back. It was the same something that had pushed her to New York City and to the stone. She nodded and added one final argument. “I think she knows something about what’s going on. About why I’m involved.”

He exhaled through his nose and his fingers flexed on his hips. “Fine. I probably owe you this.” He looked back at her. “But we can’t stay long.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling more vulnerable than she had since he’d kidnapped her from the shop.

“You better hang on,” he said, stepping closer. His strong arms circled her and pulled her snug against his chest. The energy pulsed and burned between them with a strength that nearly buckled her knees. The absence of the collars allowed the flow to move unrestricted and the energy seemed to be growing stronger with every second they were together.

Damian cleared his throat, his fingers tightening on her back. “We’ll need to energy hop again, just in case we have followers.”

“Was that the strange rollercoaster ride of flashing in and out that we did before?”

“Yes.”

Great. Hopefully, her stomach would handle it better this time.

She slipped the metal collar that she was still holding into her coat pocket. It clunked lightly against the wooden box, and she smiled at the small collection of oddities that was collecting in the pocket.

Amber circled her arms around his waist and hid her face against the curve of his neck. His scent washed over her, and she tried to dispel the sense of rightness that settled within her. The energy sang a sweet, high tune that trembled down her back and wrapped her in its warm embrace.

She acknowledged the stupidity of what she felt right before the prickling sensation started again. Just in time to block the acceptance that whispered at the back of her mind.

They solidified in the alley behind the antique shop, the tilting, acidic burn in her gut a little less than the last time. Amber stayed within the tight, warm circle of Damian’s arms until her stomach settled.

“There is something disturbing about that whole mode of travel that goes far beyond what it does to my stomach,” Amber said between breaths.

His deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You get used to it after a while.”

“I’ll take your word on that.”

She finally loosened her hold and stepped away from him. The air actually snapped and popped at the separation with little sparks of static electricity.

Ignoring the oddity, she turned and quickly opened the back door, the urgency to see her aunt pummeling through her now that she was there.

“Aunt Bev,” Amber called. “Are you here?”

“Amber?” Her aunt’s voice had a high-pitched, hopeful note to it and came from the recesses of the showroom. Amber hurried down the hallway and almost collided with her aunt as they met in the doorway between the hall and the showroom.

“Oh, Amber.” Aunt Bev sighed, relief washing over her face in a waterfall of emotion. “I was so worried about you.”

Amber hid her surprise when her aunt enveloped her in a warm, hard embrace. The rare show of outward emotion startled her and made Amber worry even more about her own predicament. Her aunt pulled back and rubbed her hands down the front of her sweater and over her wool skirt in a pretense of smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried sick when I returned to find the back door unlocked, the shop destroyed and you missing with your purse and phone still in the office.” Her aunt turned away and walked stiffly back into the destroyed remains of the showroom. “Thank goodness Joseph decided to escort me home from the island. If it wasn’t for his calm assurance that you were all right, I would’ve been a frazzled mess and the place would be swarming with police looking for you.”

The tribal shaman stood calmly in the center of the room. His long hair had turned white many years before and was pulled back into a neat, single braid down his back. His face was creased with age and worn tough by the elements, but his straight back and almost regal carriage kept him from appearing old. The faded jeans and flannel shirt he wore were his uniform of choice during the winter months and added to his image of stability.

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Amber questioned

“We will,” Joseph answered. “We were waiting for you to return first. The one who did this destruction is long gone and won’t be caught anyway. There was no rush.”

“Who’s that?” Aunt Bev demanded, her face pinching in a look of disapproval.

Amber felt Damian’s presence behind her, the energy moving to life even without his touch. It was comforting to have him at her back. Especially when faced with the rising ire of her aunt.

“It’s all right, Beverly,” Joseph intervened before Amber could respond. “He is the one we’ve been waiting for.”

Amber’s attention whipped to the shaman. “What did you say?”

Joseph smiled. “The gentleman behind you. We’ve been awaiting his arrival for many, many years. I am relieved to see that he has found you.”

Just when she thought her world couldn’t get any crazier, it did. She could feel Damian’s anger rising behind her, the energy pooling deep and frustrated at the shaman’s mysterious words.

His hand on her back had her moving into the room, Damian intimately behind her. The stone flared to life at his touch and reminded her of what had started all the craziness that had invaded her life since that damn night in New York City.

The reminder sparked her own frustration at the secrets and lies. The cryptic caginess from people she trusted.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned, struggling to hold on to her calm, to maintain that last link with sanity. “I’m tired of being manipulated and used. Of being treated like a child when I’m not one.”

“You will find the answers when you are ready,” the shaman replied.

She inhaled sharply. “No! You know what’s going on, and I deserve some answers. Now.”

“Amber,” her aunt admonished. “Watch your tone. Joseph is your elder and will be treated with respect.” The older woman moved to stand next to the shaman, a guard in grandmother clothing. “He’s done nothing but protect you since your mother failed so miserably in that job.”

“Stop it,” Amber bit out, heat flaring across her cheeks. “Just stop it. I am done with everyone measuring me against my mother. Of constantly having her failures rubbed in my face. Despite her flaws, she was still my mother.” She released a shaky breath. “And she paid a very high price for her crimes. So please, just let her rest in peace.”

The silence hung in the room like the deafening quiet between a lightning strike and the burst of thunder. Her aunt’s face had paled, her hands clasped tightly at her waist, taken aback by Amber’s sudden attack. Never, in the over fifteen years of living with her aunt, had Amber ever spoken to her like that.

A sense of power surged through her. Not at taking her aunt down, but at finally, finally, standing up for herself. For saying the words she’d wanted to say for years.

Joseph rested a hand on Aunt Bev’s shoulder, a silent show of support. Likewise, Damian’s strong hand settled on Amber’s shoulder, his strength pouring into her. His claim staked. The sudden face-off would’ve been almost comical if not for the seriousness of the situation. The room crackled with the tension.

The shaman cleared his throat, a failed attempt to clear the air. “There is much the two of you must learn,” Joseph started, raising a hand to silence her protest when she opened her mouth to interject. “I know it’s frustrating, and I’m not trying to be mysterious and confusing. But many things are best understood when you learn them yourself. And, truthfully, I don’t have all the answers.”

“Tell us what you know,” Damian demanded, his voice pounding into the room with its force.

The shaman observed them as if he was debating what to say. When he finally spoke, his eyelids drooped and his face slackened, a distant appearance cloaking him. His words came out in an almost trance-like cadence.

“A thousand years of exile, a thousand years of rebirth. Taken down in shame to rise in glory. At his side a virgin bride, the hidden bird to bind his soul. To this end the world will flow. Without the rise, the world will fall. One of light, one of dark. Two to wield all five. Circles will rise and must hold strong. Together the two will lead us all.”

The chill returned to invade and spread to every appendage even as beads of sweat broke out on Amber’s forehead and her arm hairs stood on end. She swallowed past her arid throat and tried to quell the rising anxiety. Damian’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his unease radiating into her with each deep breath he sucked into his chest.

The pending threat of doom hung like a black cloud in the room and was as suffocating as a wool blanket in July.

“What foolishness do you speak, old man?” Damian’s crisp words cut through the tension. “Where did you get those words?”

Joseph eased back with a simple blink of his eyes. “They are words that have been passed down through my family for generations. We are the protectors of the innocent. The keeper of the words. The seers of my people and the holders of the one truth.”

“The words are nothing but garbage,” Damian snapped.

“Are they?” Joseph challenged, apparently not at all intimidated by the man that towered over him. “It is my job, the job of my family, to protect the line of the innocent. To keep the last lineage of the great Moshup alive and pure. The end of that line is Amber. She is the last living descendant of the great giant who led and helped to build the Native American communities along the eastern coastline when we were but a fledging race of beings struggling to survive.”

Amber gasped, disbelief consuming her. How could that be true? What did it mean?

Joseph narrowed his eyes at Damian. “Do my words touch too close to the truth? Ring of a rightness that is too frightening to accept?”

“Watch yourself, old man.”

“You do not scare me, old one,” Joseph replied. “I only fear for what will happen if you do not accept what is before you.”

The bird on Amber’s hand fluttered its feathers, stretching its wings in preparation for flight. To defend. The sensation itched over her hand and warmed her skin. It was as if the mark was becoming a living, breathing entity that moved and communicated with her through the energy. Although it remained flat and unmoving on her skin, within her she felt every movement, every emotion it projected. Intuitively, she knew to listen to it, despite how illogical that was.

“Joseph,” her aunt’s quiet voice quivered between them. “What is going on?”

The shaman stepped toward Amber. Damian immediately moved in front of her, blocking Joseph’s path. The man stilled his advance, his eyes showing approval.

“I will not harm her. I have protected her for twenty-three years. Kept her safe”—Joseph paused and looked down at the dragon mark on Damian’s hand before he lifted his gaze to stare into Damian’s eyes—“for you.”

Amber’s stomach dropped clear to her toes, and she gaped at Joseph in disbelief. No. Absolutely not. She stepped around Damian to face Joseph. Any fear or residual panic was pushed back by her overriding need to take back control of her life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joseph, but I am not some piece of property to hand off like a cheap whore.” The indignation fueled her words and flushed her cheeks. “I do know that I wasn’t kept or prepped or protected for anyone. I am my own person. I make my own choices, my own decisions.”

“Of course, child,” Joseph replied almost patronizingly. “And every choice you make, every decision you make has the potential to change the outcome of the Great War to come. I am not your enemy, and I wanted your man to understand that.”

Her cheeks flamed at his words, and her lips compressed in a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “He is not my man.”

“Whatever you say,” Joseph responded.

“Forget it.” Amber turned away. The feeling of being boxed in—of the walls closing in around her until she was trapped with no way out—made her skin crawl in rejection. “I’m done with this. I only came here to check on Aunt Bev and to let her know I was okay and to find out if she had any answers for me. Instead, I find yet another man spinning prophecies and warnings about my life. About who I am.” She spun back around to face down Joseph. “It’s time I made the decisions about my life. And I will not be forced into a role based on the words of some ancient prophecy or made-up lineage.”

God, that felt good. The power from standing up for herself sailed through her and warmed her blood with hot licks of fulfillment. On a roll and unable to stop the cleansing purge that seemed to be rising uninhibited from within her, Amber glared at the three people who were each staring at her with varying looks of shock, amusement and approval.

“Do any of you realize the day I’ve had? This morning I was a normal woman, being so bold as to attend a protest against this guy and his wind turbines.” She pointed accusingly at Damian, who didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch. “Next thing I know, he’s magically appearing out of nowhere, spitting accusations that I’m some predefined emissary of destruction. Then I’m whisked through thin air, judged by a race of beings I didn’t even know existed, and accused of pretending to be this Marked One, declared evil, and ordered to the cellars.”

Her aunt’s face had turned a pasty white during her recap. Maybe Aunt Bev didn’t know everything that was going on, but it was past time she found out. Undeterred, Amber glared at her betrayers and continued. “Now I return to find that the two people I trusted most in this world have been lying to me my entire life. In fact, they’ve actually been waiting to turn me over to what? My death? The sacrificial lamb offered up for the greater good?” Her aunt’s hand fluttered uneasily at her throat. Joseph stood stone faced at her side.

“Well, no thank you. I don’t want the job. And I refuse be used or manipulated. I don’t care what each of you thinks I am.” She gave each occupant of the room a hard, piercing glare. “Because I know what I’m not. And I know that none of you have control over me. And that I definitely don’t need any of you to manage my life.”

Wanting to keep the feeling of triumph that coursed through her, Amber stalked out of the room, down the hall and out the back making sure to slam the door behind her. The loud bang echoed through the silence and off the brick walls of the buildings. She exhaled a shaky breath and watched the white puffs of vapor form in front of her face. She took off at a brisk walk, exiting the alley and heading down the street. She had no focus, her only intent to get away.

From the words. The feelings. The confusion.

How could all of this be happening? If it weren’t for the brisk air brushing her cheeks and nipping at her ears, she’d be tempted to believe it was all a very bad dream. But it wasn’t a dream, just a demented reality that threatened to pull her under and drown her within the depths of its complexity.

Her boots moved briskly over the sidewalk, causing Damian’s coat to flap against her legs. Once again, she was thankful for its warmth. She’d been wearing the damn coat for most of the day, and his scent was twining its way around her, tingling her nose with hints of pine. Damn it. She couldn’t get away from him even now.

What had Joseph meant with his strange words and even stranger assumptions? Kept her safe for Damian? What the hell? This wasn’t the dark ages where women were property owned by men to sell and barter as they saw fit. She didn’t belong to anyone, and she definitely wasn’t going to be meekly handed over to some overbearing, overconfident, over-assuming man. In trade for what? Saving the world? Ha! There was nothing to save and she wasn’t anyone’s hero. Period.

A light from an overhead street lamp flickered above her before going out. The dark descended around her and pulled her quickly out of her musings. A sudden, unnatural chill descended in the air.

She jerked her head around, taking quick looks over her shoulders, peering into the darkness that surrounded her. Goose bumps riddled her flesh, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Increasing her pace, Amber hurried down the deserted sidewalk toward the next globe of light. It flickered and went out just before she stepped into the safety its pale, yellow light cast.

Fear skittered through her as she froze in understanding. The stone burned in warning. She swallowed thickly and blinked back the tears that formed at the edge of her eyes. In all her ranting, all her adamant declarations that she didn’t need anyone, she’d forgotten the fact that she was being tracked. For whatever reason, whether she wanted to believe it or not. Whether she understood it or not. 

And she knew beyond all doubt that those very beings that wanted her, hunted her, were now surrounding her. And she was alone, just like she’d wanted.