Enchant the Dawn (11 page)

Sophia dropped his hand and he flinched at the loss of contact. “What exactly did you do?” Sophia’s voice, strong again and curious.

“Do?” He was trying to regain his composure, ignoring the sense of disorientation he felt without her hand in his.

“With her. Her panic? Her pain? I saw it, felt it and then…you pushed it away?”

“That’s my talent. To take excess emotion and…”

“Can you do the opposite? Give people emotions, feelings?” she cut him off, her eyes bright, her thoughts whirring so fast Daron swore he could hear them screech around curves like that car of Alan’s.

“No. It doesn’t work like that.” He knew his voice was harsh, defensive.

She nodded, already knowing him too well. “So you’ve tried then.”

He swore under his breath, in a language none knew but himself. As a child, he’d tried, of course he’d tried. To win desire by false means, to cause pain to an enemy. He’d learned quickly that such actions brought nothing but the foul taste of shame. As an adult, he’d tried to will the desire for life back into his broken mother but there was no cure for utter hopelessness. If he expected Sophia to be strong enough to weather pain and heartache…to raise his children to be true
Magi
, then he’d have to gift her with the truth. “Not often and not well.”

She gave him the slightest of smiles, filled with mischievous challenge. “Willing to try again?”

Not waiting for an answer, she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, deep enough that the outline of her breasts under her prim linen blouse was all too evident. Daron furrowed his brow in confusion, unsure what she could mean.

His eyes flickered back to Hester, her small frame held still, her breath awkward. She watched the two adults in front of her with rapt attention. Daron squeezed Hester’s hand in reassurance and the small sweet smile he received cleared his mind from the turmoil he felt from the woman he had yet to understand. That unfathomable woman, his fated
ashavi
, slipped her hand into his once more and the world came once again into focus as points of living light.

Hester’s face shone with those lights but paler than the vibrant health her mother had. Even Daron, with this new sense unanalyzed and untested, could see the chaotic gaps, the ugly throbbing of the light within her lungs as air was trapped inside. Sophia’s voice whispered in his ear but he almost felt as if she sang within his very mind. A song of seduction, of power he was not sure he should have. “Look at me, Daron West.”

His face turned to her, unable to disobey if he had wished to. She was glorious and the beauty that hid beneath the exterior she showed to the world was revealed to his greedy eyes.

Her eyes were golden here, rich pools of dark gold that would satisfy any man’s search for wealth. “Watch me breathe.” She sighed, her breath warm against his face, as though she was next to him—no, underneath him and moaning her passion into his ear. But she was still kneeling beside him, one hand in his, the other on Hester’s knee. He shook himself and obeyed her directive, watching the rise and fall of her chest and trying to focus on the specks of lights moving within her, rather than the magnificent shape of her breasts and the pinpoints of radiance that were surely her nipples. She was as affected by their connection as he was, at least he could take some solace in that. He resisted the urge to look down toward her sex, to see the bright fire that would be burning there for him. Instead, conscious of Hester and June and the others waiting patiently for this odd play to reach its climax, he studied the flow of energy in and out of Sophia’s lungs. He watched the beauty of her breath, easy and graceful, effortless.

Sophia’s eyes were still closed as his eyes returned to study her face, to see the concentration radiating from her features as a tangible thing. Her lips moved, sparkling with silver as her words took form. “Can you see the pattern?”

He could. “Yes.”

“Take it.” And he felt her push. Through their entwined hands, she tried to give him herself, the very fabric of her makeup. Panic rose within him for a moment, that he would lose it, that she would be left vacant somehow because he was not up to the task. Then he pushed aside such thought, unworthy of his ancestry, his destiny. He took the precious drops, slippery silver within his own copper fiber and instead of sending this precious Gift out into the Void, as he had done countless times, before he guided the delicate lattice through himself and into Hester, ignoring the flinch from the girl as she took a deep breath, grasping her hand tightly even as he felt Sophia’s grip grow weak.

Working faster than the mind could think, he pushed the pattern over the tiny abused lungs of the child and watched as Hester’s body recalled itself, remembered what it should be. He watched as the flow of life returned to peaceful patterns, as the faded glow he’d first seen in Hester absorbed the brilliant silver of Sophia’s Gift. Hester released the breath she’d been holding and air rushed out, free and easy, for the first time in days.

Hester bounced out of her chair and into her mother’s arms, both of them crying in happiness. June held Hester tightly, her face filled with traces of awe and gratitude. Daron saw none of it, though he felt the wave of happiness. His eyes were only for the woman who had collapsed against his shoulder, utterly drained.

His arms wrapped around her and he tried to will his own strength into her but whatever power that they had wielded together only worked when they were both conscious to wield it. His stomach dropped until he felt a puff of air against his cheek and knew that she still lived.

“Is she all right?” June’s voice was worried, despite the joy she felt.

Alan bent next to him and touched fingers to Sophia’s neck and the back of his hand to her forehead. “She’s cold but her heart seems fine. That…” Alan swallowed nervously, “whatever that was, it must have taken a lot out of her.” Daron looked up at the younger man and saw shock mixed with concern. Magic was a hard thing for many to accept, in a land governed by logic.

“She needs rest. She’ll be all right.” His hoarse voice sounded much more sure of that idea than he felt.
She has to be.

Alan stood up. “I’ll get the car, we can take her to her apartment and I can…”

Daron glared at the man. “I’ll stay with her.”

“Yes, well.” Alan smoothed down a nonexistent wrinkle in his coat. “I’ll just go get the car then.” He turned to June, who was kissing Hester’s hair and rocking back and forth as her little girl fell into a deep, restful sleep for the first time in days. “I’m glad I could help, Miss June. If there’s anything you need…”

June smiled at him and for once looked like the beautiful young woman she was. “Thank you, Mr. Lowbridge. Thank you so much.”

Alan backed out the door, staring at June with starstruck eyes and a gaping mouth that wouldn’t quite shut until he banged into the doorway hard. “I’ll-I’ll just go get the car.”

He disappeared and Daron pulled Sophia completely into his arms cradling her against his chest with his arms under her knees. A hand appeared wiping a damp cloth over her brow and Daron looked up to see Ixchel smiling at him, her eyes misty. “I is so happy, Señor West. You found her.”

“
Ella me encontró
, Doña Ixchel. She found me.”

Ixchel continued her ministrations to the sound of June humming a lullaby to Hester. Daron held Sophia tightly and breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes flickered open for a moment.

“
Ashavi
?
Bella
? Are you all right?”

She flinched for a moment, her eyes slamming shut against the weak light in the room. He knew she was in pain. He tried to take it from her but she resisted, pushing back against him ever so slightly. He suddenly realized that he too was incredibly tired. She knew, even in her weakened state, that to take her pain would cause him to collapse like she herself had done. He swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure that he wanted to be so protected, even by someone who could see inside him as no one else ever had.

He struggled to his feet, still holding Sophia firmly in his arms. He nodded goodbye to June who looked at him with gratitude and Ixchel who raised an eyebrow in concern over his shaky stance. He moved toward the door, which Ixchel held open for him, still giving him a look that declared him to be too full of machismo for his own good.

As he emerged into the empty hall, Sophia stirred again, her eyes warm and brown and looking at him with an intensity that made him uncharacteristically nervous. He took a few steps down the hall, until he felt Sophia wriggling in his arms.

“You don’t have to carry me, I’m just tired is all.” He wasn’t sure she could walk, despite her protestations. And he was certain he didn’t want to put her down—he was enjoying her wriggling far too much. Her curves felt far too good and it had been a long long time since he had been with a woman, much less one he knew the fates had destined for him. Part of him wanted to march down the stairs, down the street and carry her out of this city and this life, until she had no choice to make a new one with him.

She gave an indignant huff and as they reached the end of the hall at the top of the staircase, he bent, setting her feet on the floor and letting her slide down his body as he rose. The feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, the shape of her hips under his fingers, the hitch in her breath as she felt how close they were. He gripped her elbows when she swayed slightly toward him, so she wouldn’t fall and he wouldn’t have to give up touching her. His hands stayed right there, rubbing the linen in soft circles, enjoying watching her breathing grow uneven and a flush of color return to her cheeks.

“May I escort you down the stairs,
ashavi
?” He spoke low, not trusting his voice above a whisper.

She licked her lips, as though daring him to kiss her. He leaned closer pulling her gently toward him by her elbows until his lips barely brushed hers. Her hands wrapped around his ribs and splayed across his back. He shivered with the contact.

Her voice was lower and her breath warm against his lips. “What does that mean?
Ashavi
?”

He couldn’t stand to answer. He’d chase her off, make her flee before she understood. Instead, he kissed her, opened his mouth and stroked the softness of her lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting her. She opened her mouth and he slammed into her, trying to satisfy his need for now with this gift of her kiss. She battled him with skill, stroking her tongue against his with sinuous teasing. He trapped her lower lip with a gentle bite, easing the sting with his tongue.

In moments, he had her pressed against the wall next to the stairwell, his hands gripped the curves of her buttocks, her hands buried in his hair. The connection they had shared all too briefly inside that little apartment flared into brilliance again and with each press of her hips against his, each moan and whimper, each daring caress, all the energy they had sacrificed was rebuilt and restored. Soon Daron felt he would explode with it, with his need for her, with the knowledge that her desire was as great as his own, with the hundred thousand sparks of energy bursting under his skin and longing to merge with hers.

He pulled back, unwilling to take her in a drab hallway against a wall. Her eyes snapped open and fire flared for a moment until reason chased away her anger. Than she laughed, a sound that sent lust shooting through him, making him throb and curse the lack of privacy in a city. He thrust her back against the wall, gripping her thigh and wrapping her leg around his as he ground against her, showing her how very much he wanted her. She pulled his head to hers, kissing him until he lost all thought except that she was his. It was only the shriek of Mrs. Mulrooney in 5A that pulled him away.

This time, the laughter was in her eyes. Sophia put a hand up to her hair and brushed at her skirt while Mrs. Mulrooney fixed them both with a no-nonsense glare that made Daron feel like a naughty youngster getting caught under one of the wagons. The old matron swept past them and made her way down the stairs, leaving Daron and Sophia alone again after turning around several times to check that they weren’t going to engage in more shenanigans.

Once Mrs. Mulrooney was only the clatter of boots on stairs and not a pair of accusing eyes, Sophia let loose the laughter she’d held contained. Not the cynical, regretful laughter of before but the full-throated appreciation of the ridiculous. More than lust, this brought forth his need to make her truly happy, so that his life would ring with her laughter. To make her understand she belonged with him. The power they felt together was something that shouldn’t be denied. It was rejecting the gift of the heavens.

“Walk with me?” His voice was stronger now, convinced of this course. He’d court her properly, make her see.