Desire, page 20
Alana shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.” Tears soaked her cheeks again, and she took Dorian’s hand in hers. “You’ll be fine. You have to be.” She knew he wouldn’t be, but maybe if she said it enough times and believed it, it would become reality.
Dorian closed his eyes. “I’m dying, Alana.” With every word, his speech became slower, quieter. “Just stay with me, please.”
Alana nodded and caressed his hand. The skin on his fingers was dry, paper like. It was nothing like the soft touch she was used to.
Long minutes had passed in silence. From time to time, Alana wiped the sweat from Dorian’s forehead with a cool, wet cloth, never letting go of his hand. She had to help him; she had to make it easier for him. All the tools were in her possession to do it. She just needed to enter his mind, but doubt kept creeping into her soul. What if she lost control? What if she messed up and hurt him even more?
Dorian stopped breathing and her blood froze. Her eyes widened. No, not yet.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
He didn’t move. His chest was still. Panic raised in her chest and the seconds that had passed felt like hours. Then Dorian coughed again, and she took a deep breath.
Alana closed her eyes as relief washed over her. She could do it. She had to.
With her eyes still closed, she entered Dorian’s mind. The protective walls weren’t there. She didn’t need to ask permission to be among his thoughts. His mind was as vulnerable as a child’s, despite being one of the strongest telepaths she knew.
His consciousness was there, but it felt tired, cloudy.
“I’m here.”
Dorian’s focus turned to her voice, brightening up a little.
Using her power, she created an illusion for them. The park near the city center where they’d walked so many times, or just watched the people from a bench.
But this time, it was just the two of them near the small lake, under an old oak tree. Its branches stretched above the water, giving them shade in the heat. Alana created a warm sunny day. Birds chirped around them, ducks swam on the surface of the water, and they could make out some of the goldfish in the lake.
“This is beautiful,” Dorian said from the bench. “Thank you.”
Alana nodded and sat next to him. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He wasn’t covered with the angry green lines; he wasn’t pale, his eyes weren’t red. He looked healthy.
“Don’t cry.” Dorian wiped away a tear, and she dug her face into his palm. His skin was soft, his touch strong.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything.”
Dorian smiled. “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault.”
“It is. If we didn’t fight that night, if I wasn’t acting like an ass, you wouldn’t have been poisoned.”
“I’d have been poisoned, anyway.” Dorian leaned back and smiled at the sun. “You created a nice space here. I can feel the sun on my cheeks. I’m proud of you.”
Alana pressed her lips together. She felt that Dorian’s body, his physical body, weakening with every second.
“You were right about Kylan. He isn’t beyond redemption.” Dorian glanced at her. “But he’s dancing on a razor’s edge.”
“I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.” She took a deep breath. “I loved being here with you. It felt so normal.”
“I loved it too. I wanted to marry you here.”
Guilt squeezed her heart, not just because she’d ended their relationship, but because he’d never get married, have children, or grow old. Life was too short, and he’d been robbed from most of it.
Dorian smiled. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m glad I could love you. I’m glad I could be with you.”
Alana picked at the skin next to her thumbnail. “I loved to be with you.”
Dorian pulled her into his arms. “But I wasn’t enough. I know.” He kissed the top of her head and she relaxed into his arms. “You’ll find someone perfect for you. My death isn’t your fault.”
Alana nodded, unable to speak. It was too much. The overwhelming emotions; grief, sorrow, love. The amount of power she was using, the concentration she needed to put into it, drained her. But she kept the illusion for Dorian. He deserved it.
Dorian hugged her tighter. “Don’t blame yourself, Alana.” He sighed. “Let’s just watch the ducks as we used to.”
Alana rested her head on his shoulder in the perfect scene she’d created for them. She clung to him, his consciousness, even though he was slipping away.
“You have to let me go,” Dorian said.
“Just a few more minutes. Please. Just a few more.”
Dorian nodded and kissed her head again.
Alana used all of her power to keep Dorian there, to keep him with her at the moment. But he was slipping. He couldn’t keep his focus on her. Images of reality flashed before them. Once. Twice.
She squeezed her eyes shut and poured even more of her energies into him. The illusion returned to normal. The duck swam happily in the lake, the sun was shining, and they were there, sitting close to each other in the perfect moment.
Just a little longer.
Dorian turned to her on the bench and breathed a kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”
He caressed her cheek, smiled, and the image collapsed. He was gone.
Alana collapsed onto his chest, bursting into tears. With every drop of power she had left, she tried to find him, just a piece of him inside, still holding on, still fighting. But she found nothing.
He was gone. Forever.
She hugged Dorian’s lifeless body tight and cried until she had no more tears, until exhaustion finally took her.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when strong hands touched her back. “Alana.”
She sat up. “Dad?” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she glanced at Declan. “He’s gone.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His voice was comforting. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” He pulled her from the bed.
“I’m good.” She tried to smile, but she was empty. There was nothing left inside her, just a deep, dark void. “I’m okay. I have to go.”
She stepped away from her father, hurrying away from his concerned look.
Alana walked in the corridors, not sure what to do, where to go. She wanted to feel something, anything. Dorian was gone, and she couldn’t do anything about it. The emptiness inside sucked the light out of her. She was still weak from using that much energy, but she didn’t want to sleep.
She didn’t register her surroundings or the lights. She didn’t know if it was day or night. If people were sleeping peacefully or doing their everyday routine. And she didn’t care.
What she cared about was getting rid of the emptiness inside. To feel something, anything.
Without realizing, she found herself in front of Kylan’s room. She knocked, and a second later, Kylan opened the door. The same concern shown in his eyes as she’d seen in her father’s. The emotion she didn’t want. She didn’t come here for sympathy. Passion, desire, and love were the things she wanted from Kylan, not pity.
Kylan stepped aside to let her in. Alana stared into his amber eyes, then jumped into his arms, weeping into his chest.
“It’s okay,” Kylan whispered and wrapped his arms around her.
Strong, caring arms. The arms of a healthy man. She tilted her head to look up. Kylan didn’t say a word, but his eyes told everything she needed to know. He cared. He was there. Alive.
Her lips attacked Kylan’s, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Alana put all her sorrow, all her pain, into the kiss. Using her power, she destroyed Kylan’s resistance in his mind, strengthening his need to be with her. She felt it, she saw it in his head. What she was doing wasn’t fair to Kylan, messing with his mind like this, but she didn’t put anything into him that wasn’t there already. And she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel.
The void inside her vanished as her desire rose. Her hands were on Kylan’s belt, undoing it.
“What are you doing?” Kylan pulled away, taking her hands, somehow fighting against her power.
“I want you. I want to have sex with you.” She kissed him again, getting free of his grasp, tearing at his clothes again.
“No.” Kylan stepped away, his eyes filled with desire, reflecting her own need.
“Why not? It’s just a fuck.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you do? Just get a quick release and move on?”
Kylan grimaced. “I won’t fuck you. Not like this, Alana.”
She frowned, anger bubbling up inside her. “Use it.”
“What?” Kylan stared at her with wide eyes.
“I want you to use the Rune and take me.”
“You’re crazy.” Kylan shook his head. “No.”
Alana hit his chest. “Do it. I want you.” She hit his chest again. Kylan didn’t move. He took her punches without a word. “Just let me feel something else. Come on, do it!” Tears ran down her cheeks again as she kept hitting Kylan’s chest. “I want you to be an asshole and not care.” She sobbed. “I don’t want to care.”
Kylan’s arms closed around her like a vise, pulling her into him. She struggled, trying to get away. She didn’t need gentle. She didn’t need this. What she needed was Kylan to make her feel good. To make her feel loved. The sorrow and grief inside choked the life out of her.
“It’s okay, Alana,” Kylan whispered. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
Uncontrolled tears flowed from her eyes, and her legs couldn’t hold her weight. She collapsed onto the floor, but Kylan followed her and held her tight, close to him, close to his chest.
His strong, steady heartbeat helped her find calmness. Guilt clenched her heart as she clung to Kylan.
A man she’d cared for, a man she’d loved, had died and she sought the comfort of another almost immediately. But the way Kylan held her in his arms, the same way he’d held her a decade ago, was enough for her to stay.
Her tears dried, and a headache formed at the right side of her head. Alana’s body tensed, and she gripped Kylan’s shirt.
“What’s wrong?” Kylan tilted his head to look at her. “Alana?”
She shook her head, terror rising in her throat. “I used too much.” Her breathing quickened. “I don’t want it to happen.” Alana pressed her hands to her temple and shook her head. She stood, but fell back. “I don’t want it!”
Kylan knelt in front of her, his eyes filled with worry. He reached out to her, but she pulled away.
“I need my dad,” she breathed.
Kylan nodded and was out the door in an instant.
Alana shivered and pressed her hands hard against her head. Not now. Please. Not now.
Images appeared in front of her eyes. A rocky shore, dead trees. The smell of the ocean, blood, and burned bodies. She tried to return to reality, but the vision sucked her in. There was no way out.
Sharp pain erupted from her arm, from his arm, and she was lost in the battle he fought. He was surrounded, with no way out. It didn’t matter how much fire he summoned, how much energy he put in it. There was no escape.
Alana heard someone calling her name, but she couldn’t react. Someone shook her shoulders, but she was trapped.
Another blow hit him in his ribs and Alana screamed with him, her power working hard to heal both of them. She felt his surprise as his wounds healed, then she felt it as he tapped into her powers through their connection.
An uncontrolled wave of fire burst from his hands, burning everything in its wake. Screams filled the air, people ran away from him in all directions, escaping the deadly inferno.
Alana tried to breathe, tried to take control of her mind and magic, but the man held her steady, using her power to defeat his enemies.
She was too weak.
People shouted her name, trying to pull her back, but the man wouldn’t let her go.
The battle on the shore came to an end, only a few left to fight. The man breathed heavily. Joy filled his body but his legs trembled and he fell onto the rocks. His grip loosened on her, and she snapped back into her own body.
“Alana!” her father shouted. “Open your eyes.”
She obeyed. The sight of the ocean still floated in her vision as her father’s face appeared in front of her. The smell of burned flesh and smoke still lingered in her nostrils. She blinked, trying hard to get rid of it. The beach vanished. The feeling of the man was gone, but the smell stayed.
It stayed because it was real. Alana blinked again, trying to sharpen her vision. Her dad had burn marks all over his face and torso. His shirt hung from him in burned stripes. The room was destroyed; black and orange played everywhere, smoke rose from the floor. Kylan stood behind her father, his right arm and chest red from fresh burns. His eyes were filled with pain, fear, and concern.
Alana’s stomach sank. Her head was spinning. She did this. Again. An acidic taste filled her mouth, and she fell onto her hands, vomiting all over the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a raspy voice. “I’m so sorry.” Her hands shook, the last bit of her energy escaping her body. Her father reached to her, lifting her from the floor. She clung to him and closed her eyes, drifting away from pain, from reality, from consciousness.
Chapter 28
Kylan
Kylan sat at his desk, in his new room, smoking and trying to write a report. Even though this room wasn’t spelled, and the balcony doors were open, silence filled the air. No laughter came from outside. The usual chatter of students and teachers didn’t echo between the buildings. Even the birds seemed to be quiet.
Grief hit the Institute hard. The two people they’d lost had been more than just leaders, superiors, people who’d been feared; they were mentors and friends. Loved ones.
Kylan took a puff from his cigarette. The order here was different. No one rushed to get Dorian’s position. No one took over, using death to climb higher. They grieved. Because they loved and respected their leaders. They chose them.
The smoke from the room drifted out with the gentle breeze, the same way his position would slip away if he died. No one would grieve his death. No one would care. And Defreine would have another General in a few hours, maybe it would take only minutes.
When he’d come up with his plan to take down their leaders, he’d based it on their traditions. He’d studied the Protectors, but the books weren’t even close to reality. The tomes didn’t say what it meant to be a part of a community where people cared about each other. Where people respected the chain of command even though it seemed more flexible. The truth was that it wasn’t. If anything, it was stronger. The respect wasn’t forced. They didn’t follow commands out of fear. They didn’t plot against their superior, watching them closely to know when to kill them.
The Protectors elected those who were in charge, trusting their ability to lead, to make good decisions for the community. Their system was based on trust. Living up to that trust was harder than leading those who feared you.
Kylan pressed his cigarette into the ashtray. That trust was all around them. He’d seen it in the little ones’ eyes when they asked for help, in the questions of older students. He’d seen it in the way young teachers treated the older ones—respecting their opinion, taking their advice, and knowing they could count on them.
Trust. Love. Kylan fiddled with his bracelet as he tasted the words. The Protectors’ strength wasn’t in the ruthless of their training, it wasn’t their strict hierarchy. It was something Eero would never know, and could never understand. It was their unity that made them stronger and more dangerous. That’s why Eero feared them; he didn’t understand where their power came from.
It came from feelings. Emotions held them together, forming a strong bond. A bond so powerful that they’d taken him in. Accepted him, even though the leaders knew why he was here. They’d risked a lot by letting him stay, letting him in. Maybe it was just because of Alana and her ability to see the light. Maybe it was more.
Kylan had a taste of this life, this light, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let it go. Feeling weren’t as bad as he’d thought. It was actually quite nice, but with the good came the bad. Fear ate at his joy almost as fast as it spread in his veins. Fear of Eero, fear of starting a war, fear of letting go and going back. Fear of losing what he found here.
He had a mission, and he had to stick to it, because this dreamlike life wasn’t for him, so Kylan picked up his pen to write a half-hearted message to his father.
My king,
Dorian Ward is dead. The election of the new leader is in progress. The Protectors are wounded deeply. I’m close to finding the answers.
K.
He could say more, add in-depth details about how they were vulnerable at the moment, or correct his lie about finding answers. He was no closer to finding the descendants than when he’d arrived; he wasn’t even trying to find them.
Because his sense of duty had shifted. As his feelings for Alana strengthened, his loyalty to his father and to his country, weakened. Reaching higher, becoming king, and being the best wasn’t that appealing anymore. But what was left for him if he gave up on those plans? Nothing. A life here wasn’t possible, not without causing more pain to these people. If he went back, if he kept his father in check, he had the power to stop Eero. Maybe. But if he stayed, he’d only cause pain because he couldn’t escape his past, his heritage. He was a Whitestone, and that name came with devastation.
Kylan stood, stuffing the letter into his back pocket to venture into the city and send it. But instead of descending the stairs, he headed towards Alana’s suite. He’d given her more than a day to rest, to feel better, while trying to figure out what to do with his own feelings. The promise he’d made to Dorian hung heavily around him, tainted by the fear that he’d fail. He always failed promises. He’d failed keeping his brother safe, he’d failed stepping out of the Rune, and he’d fail this one too.
Kylan lifted his hand and knocked, the excitement of seeing Alana again mixed with his doubt and self pity.
