The Discovered Page 8

  “Yes,” he said finally. “Can you not tell how in awe of you I am?”

  I scoffed. “No, I can’t Daelon. Are you really not aware of how moody and cold you can be?”

  “You have no idea what I’m risking with all of this. I took a jump into the void, like I was pulled to you by forces bigger than either of us.” His voice was sharp, but as he looked at me his eyes softened, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But what I’m doing here with you could get us both killed, and I can’t bear to see you suffer that fate. I was called to do this, and I wasn’t sure if I was even going to accept the calling… but then I saw you, and I just couldn’t—” He trailed off, seemingly giving his next words careful consideration. “In order to continue protecting you and preparing you to protect yourself, I’m going to need to channel more power for a spell. You won’t be able to see the specific intent behind the magick, but you will feel the energy I need as it moves through you. Does that make sense?”

  “Protect me from people who don’t want us working together?” I asked. The people who would kill us? The people who killed my mothers—and who maybe killed his parents too?

  Daelon sighed. “Something like that, little witch. I wish I could explain more. I promise it’s not out of malice that I can’t. It’s all for you,” he said softy.

  I looked down at my hands. All of the secrecy aside, what this really came down to was whether or not I trusted Daelon enough to use me as some kind of magickal battery. And, in the face of all logic, I did. Because energy couldn’t lie, and what his aura showed me was nothing but care and devotion.

  “Okay,” I said. “I give you permission.” I still eyed him with suspicion. I couldn’t let go completely. Not yet. “If you really think it will protect us.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  He closed his eyes and chanted something unintelligible under his breath. I gasped as fire began to spread in the outskirts of the clearing, creating a trail of flames that encircled us.

  “Casting a circle before practicing protects us while we’re at our most vulnerable, and it helps to amplify the magick we release. Think of it like an energetic wall to keep power in, and negative forces out,” Daelon explained to me. “Fire is a powerful element. Invoking it gives us a boost.”

  I nodded, peering around at the circle of blue-white flames. I felt the truth of his words reflected in their magick. The sky was overcast, and the trees rustled and swayed in the wind. The ground itself came alive with energy, as if remnants of old spells awakened to us. The land itself had power.

  “This is going to be intense,” Daelon said softly, concern in his eyes. “Maybe lying down would be more comfortable for you.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed. I couldn’t hide the anxiety crawling beneath my skin. Daelon watched me intently as I lay down, taking my hand in both of his.

  “Slow your breathing,” he instructed. “Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.”

  I took in long, deep breaths. A sense of calm reached out to me through Daelon’s hands, and I accepted it with gratitude. It bathed me in a light, airy warmth.

  “You need to stay still and not interrupt the spell until I’m done. Doing so would be very, very dangerous.”

  I nodded, and soon a pulling sensation tugged at me from the hands that enveloped mine. It was similar to what I felt when the energy vampire grabbed my broken ankle, but it wasn’t painful or draining, I assumed because this time I had allowed it. Power rose up within me, and Daelon began to chant in a low whisper until he went silent.

  The flow of power grew stronger and stronger. It entered through the crown of my head and moved through my body until it spread into Daelon’s palms, and as it did, I caught glimpses and impressions of its energetic makeup. Most of it was protective in nature, like what I felt from his intentions earlier. Another part of it felt dangerous, biting cold as it passed through, coiling around me like a snake. My eyes rolled back into my head, the pulling sensation growing more and more uncomfortable. Not having control of the forces Daelon was channeling through me felt invasive and unnatural, especially the ones that whispered tales of chaos and confusion.

  I gritted my teeth. I trusted Daelon. I had to.

  I began to shiver as the warm, softer waves of defensive energy halted, and more dark, chilling currents took their place. Daelon wasn’t just defending me. He was attacking someone, or something, and the energy he used was unlike anything I had ever channeled before. I’d felt it though, in the abyss—that place in the looming castle of my nightmares. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  The shivers evolved into full-on convulsions. This energy burned, and I didn’t want it anywhere near me. I pleaded internally for Daelon to hurry and finish whatever this spell was so I could be free from its icy, sub-zero grip.

  The last bit of warmth in my body left as Daelon let go of my hand, and I feared that I would never be able to feel any heat ever again. I instantly sucked in air and opened my eyes, still shivering all over. Daelon’s eyes were panicked and confused, and the circle of fire around us had vanished into smoke.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, reaching to pull the blanket beneath us up and around my body. He hugged me to his chest, grasping my ice-cold hands to heat them up.

  “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I accused. My teeth chattered violently. “What have you done?”

  “I was just buying us some time,” Daelon said. Worry seeped into his voice. “I don’t know why you had that kind of reaction.”

  “Because that energy was evil,” I hissed through my clenched jaw. I wanted to escape Daelon’s hold, but I was too cold, and he was so warm.

  Daelon stared down at me, grimacing and then looking away. “I—I don’t know why—I promise Áine, I would’ve done it differently if I had known you were so sensitive to that kind of energy. I guess it makes sense, but I don’t know…” He frowned, as if remembering something, his eyes darting back to mine.

  “It wasn’t an evil spell? Like to kill someone?” I asked. Even if it was to protect me, I don’t think I could tolerate being used in that way without more context.

  “No,” he said quickly. “I would never channel you for something like that without your express permission. I think this has to do with who you are. Some sources of power may run contrary to your very existence,” he said, looking off, deep in thought.

  Who am I? What kind of sources? My mothers always told me I was made up of everything good in the world. They told me I gave people hope, that I was conceived out of love, and a gift from the Goddess. But a gift to whom and for what purpose?

  Daelon clutched me tighter, and despite what he had just put me through, I felt safe in his arms. I was just so cold.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair, and I found myself nuzzling into his chest for warmth. He smelled woodsy and clean.

  “Was it at least worth it?” I asked, muffled by his sweater.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I wasn’t ready to face whatever awaited us, not if it had anything to do with the pitch-black void of lifelessness and pain I felt today and in my nightmares. I didn’t mind spending more time with Daelon here in our bubble.

  “Let’s get you inside,” he said. “I’ll start a fire.”

  I feared he already had.

  Chapter 6

  I sat on the floor facing the flames in the oversized fireplace, my body temperature beginning to regulate again. Daelon draped a blanket over my shoulders and sat down next to me.

  “Want a drink?” He held up an unlabeled bottle of caramel-colored liquid with reddish hues. I assumed it was whiskey.

  “Absolutely.”

  Daelon grinned and took a swig.

  “Straight from the bottle, huh?” I asked.

  “Would you like a glass?”

  I grabbed the bottle from him, my fingers brushing against his. I took a pull and held his gaze. It tasted of vanilla, honey, spice, and fir
e, warming my insides as it left a pleasurable burn in the pit of my stomach.

  “It tastes Irish,” I said, handing it back to him.

  “It’s from a similar region, actually. Here, not on Earth.” He paused, his face falling. “This is actually one of the last bottles ever made there.” He looked mournful, taking another swig and staring at the bottle in deep contemplation. “A beautiful place.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  He looked so angelic when he was vulnerable. It was such a stark difference between this and the mask he usually wore. Everything about him seemed tied to his role as a shield—constantly on the defense—as if showing weakness would destroy him. I knew how exhausting that could be. It was a tactic of the deeply heartbroken. Or people who lived in a world they didn’t belong.

  “What were your parents like?” I asked.

  He shook his head and gave me a warning look as he passed the bottle back to me. There was so much of him that was off-limits. As I took another swig, I began to feel the familiar numbing flood my system. It was a nice break from the constant badgering from all the forces of the Universe.

  “Do you miss Earth?”

  “I try not to think about it,” I said, realizing that wasn’t really an answer. I sighed. “I think I’ve become very good at handling loss and sudden change. Having your mothers die before your eyes as a kid and finding yourself magickally teleported into the streets of New York City will do that to you.”

  “Is that why you saw your power as a curse? Because you blamed yourself for your mothers’ deaths?” Daelon asked, but it sounded more like a statement of fact.

  I swallowed. Now it was my turn to shut him down. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “None of it was your fault. They saved you, Áine. They—”

  He stopped when he saw the look on my face. He was right. I knew that deep down, but I couldn’t think about it. I needed a break from feeling it all.

  “Okay, sorry. What happened after they sent you to New York?”

  I had to take another sip of whiskey, but this story I didn’t mind telling, so I told it all as Daelon listened intently. It was liberating to finally be able to tell someone the whole truth. I told him I didn’t miss Earth, but I did miss my friends. They taught me how to love and be loved again.

  The State of New York didn’t quite know what to do with the mysterious orphan with an Irish accent and a large inheritance in an American bank account. There were forces on my side though, from whatever spell my mothers had cast to protect me, and that magick somehow influenced people to help me when they probably wouldn’t have otherwise. From the ages of ten to eighteen I was passed around from foster home to foster home, and most of the adults hated me and wanted access to my inheritance. They told me I was selfish, and I almost started to believe them.

  It was a miracle I made it out with only damaged self-esteem. I saw what the system did to other kids my age, and I always knew it was my mothers’ special bracelet that kept me safe. I sometimes wished I still had some of my power, if only to protect everyone else. But I didn’t, so I kept my head down and white-knuckled my way through those eight years of displacement.

  Most of the time I didn’t miss my magick because I knew it had brought about my mothers’ deaths. Even without it, though, I felt out of place and yearning for a place I saw in my dreams. I quickly learned not to talk about my clairsentience because it made people fear me, and they called me a freak. Actually, they called me a freak anyway for the way I talked and the way I saw the world, so I stopped talking, and I dropped my accent. I stopped thinking about the magick I felt as a child and my mothers’ bedtime stories. I nearly convinced myself that none of it had been real in the first place. Despite my subconscious yearning for home and the power I had lost, I was determined to live life as a human to honor my mothers. I ignored their voices in my dreams that reminded me I would someday return home. I ignored the tingling in my bracelet that reminded me my power was never truly gone.

  I met Steph one day in Central Park. I sensed her energy when I passed by her as she casually rolled a joint on a picnic blanket, unbothered and unashamed. Her hair was in many long black braids, cast into a bun on the top of her head. She wore a maxi dress and a leather jacket, and her dark brown skin sparkled along her cheekbones, nose, and eyelids. It was an intense energy, yet soft and warm and maternal. It had something I craved. She seemed to sense me too, and she asked if I wanted to join her. We talked for a very long time, and a year later I told her about my clairsentience as we applied for schools together. We met Rena and Nick, and I got a degree in Anthropology, which was a bit ironic now that I thought about it. It was basically my attempt at taking a crash course on how to be a normal human.

  I didn’t feel so out of place anymore. My friends may not have been witches, but they cared for and accepted me. They healed the damage of my years in the system. But there was always a part of me that knew that life could never last. As much as I tried to suppress it, I always knew there was this huge, gaping void inside me where my power was supposed to be. Nothing in the human realm was ever enough to quell the emptiness or the sense of unbelonging. I was caught between yearning for something more and convincing myself I was undeserving. Because what I thirsted for had killed my mothers.

  When I finished telling the story, Daelon was silent for a moment, his eyes soft and open.

  “Do you still think you’re undeserving?” he finally asked.

  “Sometimes. But not when I’m in that ocean. Not when I feel it all. There’s something I need to do, but I don’t know what,” I said. My eyes watered, but I didn’t let any tears fall. “There are people who need my help.”

  Daelon remained impassive but looked away and into the fire. “Thank you for telling me all of that.” He set his gaze back on me. “You are where you belong now.”

  I nodded, letting out a deep breath.

  “Look at me,” he said softly. His eyes were warm and inviting. “You deserve it all. Everything in this world and the next. You are more deserving than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Something about the fire, the blanket draped around my shoulders, the whiskey, Daelon’s kind words, and everything I’d just revealed, led a tear to escape my eye.

  My cheeks warmed as Daelon moved closer to brush the droplet away with his thumb. He sat back, but there was still less than a foot between us.

  “It’s me who is undeserving,” Daelon whispered, so soft I could barely hear it over the crackling of the flames. “Undeserving of you.”

  I was speechless. Was this why he was constantly shutting himself down with me? Daelon didn’t ever act undeserving. If anything, he acted like he deserved it all. It was hard to reconcile all these parts of him—the domineering, the protective, the vulnerable, the controlling, the caring, the broken, the unworthy. Who was he really? And why did it not matter how confused he made me, or how much he didn’t tell me, or how irrational my feelings for him were… None of it mattered as he sat facing me, his face so close to mine, my skin tingling at the ghost of his touch on my cheek.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I remembered my dream in the early hours of the morning. When Dream Daelon had looked at me like he owned me. When he climbed on top of me, I felt his bare chest, and he had dared me to admit I wanted to kiss him. When I did admit it by leaning into his lips—

  “Is it frustrating not being able to read my energy?” Daelon asked, pulling me out of my dangerous reverie. His gaze reeled me in, and his tone dared me.

  “Very.”

  “Triple that frustration and yearning,” he leaned in closer, his breath tickling my skin, “and then maybe you could begin to fathom how badly I want to read your thoughts right now.”

  Although the whiskey helped to numb the pull of my power, it only made my irrational longing for Daelon grow stronger. I looked to his lips and then back to his eyes. His jaw tensed and a flash of the untamed gleamed in his eyes, eerily similar to the look I
saw in my dream. It was commanding of all my attention. The energy between us was palpable now, distracting and all-consuming. I could nearly taste it.

  He closed his eyes, fighting a battle with himself I’d watched him fight many times now.

  “Maybe we need to stop thinking,” I thought aloud, emboldened by the warmth in the pit of my stomach.

  His eyes flew open. I considered making the move myself to close the gap between us, but no sooner had the thought crossed my mind had Daelon grabbed my face in his hands, forcefully meeting my lips. The kiss was urgent and desperate, like we had waited a thousand years to touch each other and would wait a thousand more to do it again.

  Daelon pushed me to the floor in one swift movement, careful to keep a hand on the back of my head as I fell back onto the rug. He was on top of me exactly as in my dream. His lips moved against mine as his other hand gently grasped my neck. He lightly tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth. I tangled my fingers through his dark waves of hair and stroked the side of his face. It was smooth aside from the light stubble along his sharp jaw.

  He groaned, moving his hand off my throat and pushing up to hover over me. Both of us gasped for air. “We can’t do this, Áine.” His eyes told a different story, staring at my body greedily. “I can’t,” he repeated, more to himself than me.

  “Why not?” I furrowed my brows, confused and frustrated in more ways than one.

  Daelon shook his head and looked away. He started to rise, and I grabbed his wrist, staring him down until he met my eyes. He looked at my hold on his arm and then to my eyes, anger flashing in his. Surely that wasn’t directed at me?

  “Stop,” he growled, his features returning to their natural state of perfect control and display of strength.

  I let go, feeling my own anger rise within me—with a splash of shock and embarrassment thrown in for good measure. Had I misread this entire situation? Did he only kiss me because he knew I wanted it?

  I rolled out from under him.