Forget Me Not (9 page)

He set the little growing thing, roots and all, inside the wooden bowl at the top of his structure. It was not nearly as elegant as his mother’s work, but he felt the power inherent in its form. While he was better in battle, as his father had been, he hoped that some of his mother’s skill with building had flowed into him.

Adreeahbenwah watched as he poured water into the center bowl. If his design worked, then the water would spin the blades he had formed from the thin sheets of metal, sparking the device to activate and open a rift to his world.

“Stand back,” he said, looking at her one last time.

Her dark eyes were dry, her spine straight. The soft line of her lips was pressed tight as if to keep herself from speaking.

He did not want to leave her. Even considering such a thing was painful.

Which could only mean one thing: Toren had grown to love her.

He felt the power of that knowledge flow though him, shaking him all the way to his foundation. Loving a human should have been impossible. She lacked the magic to tie her to him. But she did not lack the power.

Whatever Adreeahbenwah lacked, she was far stronger than he could have imagined. Even hindered by her home world, she still managed to weave herself into his being, binding them together. He hadn’t felt it happen. He hadn’t even realized it was possible. But she was there, lingering within him, as strong and steady and as much a part of him as the beat of his own heart.

He wanted to bring her home with him and fit her into his life the way she fit so perfectly against his body. But that could not be. She was too fragile to survive in his world. Without magic, she would be in constant peril. She would be an outcast. Helpless. He’d touched her mind deeply enough to know how much that would upset her. His Adreeahbenwah was too independent to ever want to lean on another for survival. Doing so would destroy something precious inside of her.

Toren could not do that to her. He would rather suffer through his loneliness for her and know she was alive and well on Obliterra, than to sentence her to pain, fear and death on his world. He would take with him his memories of her, and hope that the pleasure they shared would lie warm in her thoughts—that she would remember him from time to time.

Once he was gone, at least she would finally find the rest and peace she so desperately needed. She would go back to her life as he would go back to his.

It was the only way. Toren accepted that even as it tore him apart from within.

The device began to spin and shake. He felt power accumulating, as if drawing in a deep breath.

“Be well,” he said. There was more he wanted to say, but he held the words back, knowing they would only cause her pain. His love for her was not a gift he could give her—it was a burden, another weight of grief he would put on her slender shoulders. Instead, he held in his feelings, content to take them with him as a secret, silent part of him.

The blades spun faster. The shaking increased until the wooden boards beneath his feet trembled with power. Sparks of light radiated out from the core, making the silver sigil glow bright.

Toren held his breath. A searing line of light began to split the air—the beginnings of a rift. He saw a brief flicker of his world—of the bloodstained floor where Elina’s body had lain. The narrow portal widened, revealing a sliver of Grynar’s surprised expression as he walked through his home.

His device was working.

Excitement and the thrill of battle bubbled beneath Toren’s skin. He had no weapons on him, but he would not need them to defeat Grynar—not with so much grief and determination to fuel his strength. His hands closed to fists and he tucked his chin down to charge the moment the doorway was wide enough for his shoulders to pass.

And then the water flowing out of the holes he’d carved into the wooden bowl ran out. The blades slowed. The line of light shivered and winked out, cutting off all signs of Sorsca.

His device had failed.

Disappointment and frustration dragged a rough growl from his chest. The urge to slam his fists into the device made his muscles clench, but he held back. He did not want her to witness such a childish torrent of emotion.

“What happened?” asked Adreeahbenwah.

“Your world has no power. That is what happened.”

“Would a bigger bowl help?”

“No. The bowl was not the failure. The design was true, but there is no way to draw power from a place where none grows. Your sun barely has even a trickle. Obliterra is a magical wasteland.”

“But you got close, right?”

“Close, but not nearly close enough.”

She laid her delicate hand on his arm, and all his anger simply trickled away. He could not be angry when she was so near—he could not take a chance that his anger would touch her in any way.

“What about the sun?” she asked. “You said our sun has some power, right?”

“Yes. A small trace.”

“Can you try again when the sun comes up? Maybe it will be enough to make a difference.”

Adreeahbenwah was right. He did feel more power under her sun. The device had nearly worked. Perhaps even a trickle of magic would be enough to allow the rift to complete. “You may be right. We will try again in the morning. I will force my way through the rift if there is any chance I may fit.”

“What happens if you don’t fit?”

He considered lying to her, but tossed the notion away as a betrayal. “I could fail utterly and I would be forced to stay here. Or I may be killed.”

She bolted to her feet, a look of fear and outrage painting her sweet face. “Killed? You never said anything about this being dangerous.”

“There is danger in all things, Adreeahbenwah. The danger of staying here, losing my family and letting my sister’s killer go free is worth the risk of my life.”

She bowed her head and turned from him. Even without seeing her face, he could feel a deep sadness radiating out from her. It shivered through her spine and shook her narrow shoulders.

Toren went to her. He ached to see her smile again—to know she was happy. He had caused her pain, and while he was unsure of how he had done it, he wanted to punish himself for the error.

He gently turned her around to find liquid trembling in her eyes.

“Tell me what I did to injure you. I do not understand.”

“You act like it’s no big deal to risk your life. Well, I happen to think it’s a pretty fucking big deal. How will I even know if you made it home safely? It’s not like you can just pick up the phone or send an email telling me you’re okay.”

She was worried for him. She would not have been worried for him if she cared nothing for him. This sadness—these tears—were proof of her feelings for him. And while he hated her suffering, a small, fluttering joy began to take flight within him.

Toren cradled her face in his hands. “I will be safe. You and I are connected enough now that you will know this to be true.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I touched your thoughts. I connected myself to you in both mind and body. Part of me dwells within you, just as part of you is now within me. You will know if I die. You will not have to question my safety.”

“Oh, great,” she said, though her tone belied the words. “So now I get to be
connected
to a man I will never see again? Isn’t it bad enough that you made me care about you? Do you have to make things worse by doing some magical mojo that will keep me from moving on with my life?”

Toren had not thought of it that way. “I have done nothing to you, Adreeahbenwah. Our connection simply happened.”

“Well, however it happened, you can make it unhappen, right?”

He shook his head. “I am sorry. That is power beyond my ability, even if I were at full strength on my own home world.” Perhaps his mother was strong enough, but she was utterly out of reach and unable to help.

Adreeahbenwah stared up at him, a mixture of anger and grief shining in her eyes. “I don’t want to feel this way about you.”

“What way?” he asked before he could stop the question from flowing out of his mouth. It was selfish of him to push her, to demand more from her, but he had to hear the words. He had to know if he was floundering alone in this sea of emotion.

“Like I’m missing something when you’re not by my side. I went shopping for three hours and missed you the whole time. I’m not needy, Toren. I don’t like being made to feel that way. Especially if it’s artificial.”

“Not that, love. Nothing between us has been false. Had we been in my world, I would have been able to control the pace. We would never have progressed past a point that we did not both want.”

“But we’re not on your world. We’re on mine. And my life is already a huge mess. My job consumes most of my time, and while I’m good at it, it’s not what I want as the center of my universe. I never date. I’m afraid to even look at a man for fear of losing him the way I did William.”

“Is that the man you lost—the one for whom you still grieve?”

She nodded, her throat working as she struggled to find her voice. “My husband. He died. I don’t want to love another man the way I did him. It’s too much of a risk.”

“Any man would be fortunate to accept whatever love you are willing to give.” Toren would take even the smallest sliver and consider himself lucky.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” she snapped. “I don’t want just any man. I want you, but like William, you’re leaving, too.”

The grief in her voice left him aching for her. He shared her desire to remain at her side, but that was not part of his future. Family, duty and justice all had to come before his own personal feelings. The people he loved would not survive without such discipline.

Toren wanted to hold her close and offer what little comfort he could, but she shoved away from him and stood. Her fists were balled, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Don’t touch me. The more you do, the worse it will be.”

He could not leave her like this—not while she was angry and upset. “Please. Let me hold you, ease you.”

“No.” Tears hovered in her eyes. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She wasn’t thinking clearly. Grief seethed within her, so palpable Toren could feel it even at a distance. The thought of adding to that grief by leaving tore him apart and left him shredded.

But he could not stay. His duty had to come before the grief of one single human woman—no matter how much that woman meant to him. If he stayed, he would forget his obligations and be happy, but he would do so at the expense of his parents and siblings. A vile killer would roam free to strike at the heart of another family, to lie and unjustly punish others for his own crimes.

That was something Toren could not allow.

His presence here was upsetting her. He could not yet leave, but he could not stay here and make her suffering worse. It was better to go out into the wilderness surrounding this place and cut his ties to her now. Before he no longer could.

Chapter Seven

Toren had been gone for hours. The cabin seemed empty without him. Or maybe it was just Adria that felt empty.

She paced the braided rug in front of the fireplace, struggling to find some sense of calm. He’d said he’d be safe. He’d said that he could protect himself against any wild animals that might happen by. His world was a dangerous place, and it was his job to ensure the safety of its inhabitants. The way he’d said it told her that he knew his way around a dangerous situation—not that there was all that much out there to be afraid of.

She’d given him her favorite comforter from home to keep him warm. He didn’t seem concerned about the cold, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him out there alone, shivering.

A chilly rain began to fall, and Adria’s fears gathered until they sat frigid and hard like ice in her stomach. It was well past midnight, but she couldn’t sleep. Agitation grated along her insides, chafing her raw.

What if he forgot again? What if he wandered off and got lost? Would he even remember to come back here? Would he remember that he needed to go home? What if he simply fell and hit his head?

What if he died?

The thought sent her into a flurry of motion. She could no longer hang around here and torture herself. She had to know he was okay. Whatever
connection
they had was not nearly enough to reassure her that he was safe.

She hadn’t thought to bring a raincoat, and an umbrella would get tangled once she was in the trees, so she slit a trash bag open and draped it over her head and shoulders.

The solid weight of her flashlight brought her comfort, its trusty beam cutting through the darkness with ease.

Thunder growled in the distance. Wet branches slapped against her cheeks. She waited for a break in the rumblings before calling out Toren’s name.

She didn’t go far into the trees. She wasn’t that stupid. She kept the lights of the cabin or the lake in sight as she made a large circle around the area.

Her voice was growing rough from the strain of yelling. Despite the plastic bag, she was soaked from her feet to her thighs. Her face was nearly numb from the cold, and her hands were frozen into claws around the bag and the flashlight.

“Toren!” she yelled again, her voice losing its strength.

“Adreeahbenwah?” His deep, questioning tone cut through the thunder, sounding as sweet as church bells.

She turned and saw him crouched under the low limbs of an evergreen. His eyes glowed pale blue within the shadows. He rose with slow, powerful grace, moving toward her.

Relief swept through her, making her spine feel limp. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even injured. He was safe and whole.

She didn’t know how she was going to stand the fear of not knowing his fate once he left. If a few hours of not knowing made her feel like she was being torn apart, she would never survive the rest of her life not knowing if he was safe and happy—even if she did know he was alive.

He leaned over her, his hair stretching out to shield her from the blowing rain. “You should not be out here.”

“Neither should you. I was worried.”

“I told you I would be fine.”

“What if you forget again?”