Shadowman (17 page)

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Authors: Erin Kellison

BOOK: Shadowman
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The room flashed white again, and it occurred to her that each lightning strike was her desire, crackling in the air around them.
“Well, scared. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out,” she mumbled.
He bent his head to her ear, the line of his jaw just touching her temple. Goose bumps roared across her flesh from the point of contact.
“Bright. Wild. Fearless.”
Layla trembled. “I'm
terrified.
”
“Of what is going on around you, yes. But not of me.”
He remained motionless, standing beside her, waiting. Shadow magic buzzed the air between them, simmering with energy on her skin. And still he waited.
This was a choice, she understood that much.
She'd been responding to Khan from the moment she met him. Khan said he'd been looking for her. Maybe she'd been looking for him, too. Nothing, no man, had ever made her feel like this.
So. Stay on safe ground, or leap?
Lightning struck again. She chose the storm.
She put a hand to his chest for balance, raised herself on tiptoe, their gazes meeting for an electric second, and then she kissed him.
She got his upper lip mostly, full, taut, just at the parting dimple, but then he opened his mouth to adjust in a hot, rasping slide she felt all the way down her body. His arms came around her, gathering her into a tight squeeze that compounded the urgency of the terrible, building pressure between them. The kiss seared reason from her mind. All sense of place, time, even gravity fell away, so that there was only her, now gripping the roots of his hair, and him, stroking her lips with his, her tongue with his. The ache in her abdomen tightened into a fierce, wet knot of bliss-pain.
You and I.
Yes. She got it now. The air rushed around them, silky and sensuous in texture, somehow gliding against her skin as if she were naked. And in a way, she was. His kiss stripped her of all pretense and denial.
“Is this how it was?” She was shaking. Or he was. Or maybe it was thunder.
“Very much so.” He shifted his hold so he could look into her eyes. Around them the colors of the warehouse room churned. His expression was near savage with triumph.
She understood that, too. The dream flashed bright white again.
Layla shifted, grabbed his wrist, and dragged his hand to her breast. She pressed to show him what she wanted, and he laughed against her mouth. Reckless, she thought, but couldn't bring herself to care.
The cloth under his palm dissolved and she was naked in his arms, burning under his hands.
“Khan?” she gasped in shock. This was moving way too fast.
“It's your dream. You did that all by yourself,” he said. He drew his thumb across her peaking nipple, then grazed his hand down to the curve of her hip, her thigh, to draw her leg up around him. To bring and tilt her closer.
And here she'd thought a dream would be safe . . .
The air charged again, flickering with a brightness that highlighted the man holding her.
. . . when in a dream she really didn't care about safe.
She grazed his neck with her mouth, mumbling, “At least be naked, too.”
And his apparel evaporated into smoke, wisping away from his body.
“How can you doubt your power?” He drew her closer.
None of this was really happening . . . was it?
Layla's mouth dropped to his chest. She curled her tongue around his nipple, her body straining under his hands. She stroked her cheek against the plane of his muscle. Licked the ridge where muscle met bone.
“Khan, please . . .”
“Yes?” And his hold on her thigh shifted, his hand stroking higher to somewhere infinitely more intimate.
She gripped his shoulders as her heart raced. Her fingernails dug into his skin.
The sensations were building, his hands working a magic that burned color from her sight, that propelled her up and up, toward an exquisite peak, so high . . . that Layla woke gasping for air.
Where was he?
Gone.
Or rather, she was.
Disappointment mingled with her need, a bitter combination. She sat up, covers tangled around her legs. He'd been there, right?
And he'd touched her. Or started to. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly.
“Khan?” she gasped.
Don't leave me like this.
She braced herself on the mattress as the top sheet and cover slowly slid from the bed. Her breath came quick, but it was enough to keep her mind sharp.
“Khan.”
The room had been lit by starlight, but now it grew dim and took on a silky texture, sliding sensuous and cool against her bare arms. Like water, it moved around her and she longed to feel the Shadow on her thighs and breasts, at her nape and within her deep places. Longed to have sex with the darkness. Want beat between her legs for him. For a man who had no body to ease the burn.
Shadow rolled over her, and she was both eased back and buoyed up on the torrent. This was better than the dream and would be best if he could be there with her. If she could hold on to him and they could do this thing together.
She held her breath as a hand of darkness tilted her head. Shadow brushed her mouth, touched her tongue. A kiss. And as she arched into the thick air, reaching to grasp something—
someone
—her clothing was pulled down from her waist. Cool Shadow spiraled up her calves to the juncture of her legs. The hem of her shirt fluttered up to bare her breasts, her nipples tight in the pitch of the room.
She shrugged for him, and her shirt was gone, too. It was just her and her man in the shadows, and she was both terrified and exhilarated at what might come next. No matter what, he wasn't going to leave her wanting, like a dream.
“Khan?”
Shadow seduced her, clinging to her skin, caressing each millimeter so that every part of her was claimed, made known to him. She couldn't hide, couldn't seek a little corner of her mind to be safe and alone. He demanded everything. She could either fight him, a thought that made her zinging nerves quail, or give in. Allow him to take her.
The storm on her senses continued, but he was waiting for her permission. Again.
“Please, yes . . .” She understood now, a little better, why Kathleen had agreed to this union. If he would just stroke harder, reach a little farther, then . . .
Yes! Her mind fragmented as darkness feathered over her, filled her so completely that she couldn't breathe, rocking with the throb of his assault.
Pressure mounted in cool pulses against her swollen flesh. White static hazed her vision in an extended strike of lightning. And she shattered, bright stars swirling in the dark as she trembled in his Shadow embrace.
She was held aloft, the only sound her breath hitching.
Her skin felt tighter, senses overwhelmed, yet still exquisitely acute.
She arched again in Khan's hold, marveling. No human man could ever make her feel like this. She couldn't remember when or how they first came together a lifetime ago, yet the tandem draw and pull of their connection remained. It didn't matter if she was Kathleen or Layla, and he was Khan or . . .
Or. . .
Layla held her breath.
She'd almost had something there. A memory. A scrap of her before-life. A name?
“What did Kathleen call you?” she asked the Shadows surrounding her.
But he couldn't or wouldn't answer.
Cool air swirled around her as she was lowered slowly to her pillow and the bed. The sheet and covers rustled and then were pulled over her, rough on her skin and nipples after the slide of his Shadow.
He was tucking her in.
A brush on her lips. Which was an evasion.
“Who are you really?”
Another brush. She tilted her chin to catch more. To beg for an answer. She'd trusted him with herself, but he wasn't returning the gesture.
He stroked her cheek, and she knew no name would be forthcoming. He kept his secrets to himself.
He was there in the dark, but she was alone again. As ever.
Chapter 10
A shrill series of beeps wrenched Layla out of a dreamless sleep. All the lights in her apartment were on, and the phone was ringing in the front room. Something was wrong. Her apartment was
alarmed.
She fell out of bed, blinking dumbly, and stumbled through the bedroom doorway to pick up the receiver.
An automated voice said, “A wraith incursion is in progress at the Segue perimeter. Please remain in your room until—” Which cleared her mind completely with a jet of adrenaline. Wraiths? “—you have further instructions. The Segue building is in lockdown for your safety.”
The line went dead. Layla dragged a hand through her hair to steady herself. The dregs of sleep were now flotsam in her waking mind.
And then she remembered everything.
What had she done?
Correction. What had she allowed to be done to her? Just thinking of it made her skin heat with embarrassment. She wrapped her arms around herself. Squeezed to extinguish the burn of humiliation. Khan was hiding something from her. Bastard. And he was going to tell her.
“Khan?”
No answer.
She found her sweats, a pair of Segue loaners, and shoved her feet into her shoes. She peeked out her window. It was still dark. All was quiet on her side of the building except the beat of her heart.
“Khan?” She was freaking talking to herself.
Far away, she heard shots fired. Her adrenaline kicked up a notch. What she wouldn't give to see Segue in action.
She tried the front door. Locked. She turned the bolt. Still locked.
Which was dumb. A door wouldn't stop wraiths. Besides, the wraiths weren't near the building, and with all of Segue's firepower, they weren't likely to get close. There was no reason she should be locked inside. This was her story, after all, the only thing keeping her sane. Especially after . . .
Layla dropped onto the sofa, her head in her hands. This was not acceptable. Tomorrow she and Adam would have to come to an agreement. “I
hate
controlling men.”
In the silence of the moment, the lock to her apartment door went
snick
.
Khan. So he was still there.
Layla rose, tried her hand on the lever, which now worked.
Very handy trick. “Okay,” she said to the air, “but we've got to talk later.”
Layla threw open the door and jogged toward the elevator. Damn it, she wanted her camera. Her camera, stolen with her car, and her gun, which was in Zoe's possession. A sense of being followed had her glancing over her shoulder; so Khan had her back. No gun necessary. A sensuous whoosh of darkened air on her skin made her abdomen clench. Yeah, he was there all right. Damn him.
She opened the door to the stairs, which must have signaled something to Segue security, because two steps inside the stairwell and a metal wall of bars came down in front of her, cutting off her progress down the stairs. She turned back just as another sudden wall trapped her in the space, like a cage. It had to be some kind of precaution against wraiths, built along with Segue's renovation. And she guessed it made sense that they'd block entrances and passageways in the event of a wraith attack, but it was hugely inconvenient for her.
Or was it? The teleport thing, what Khan called “passing.” She debated for half a sec, then decided. “Do you mind taking me to where I need to go? You know, close enough to see, but not so close I get my head bitten off?”
The stairwell darkened. Layla clutched the railing. A slow stroke of air moved around her body. A rush of Shadow, an embrace of shuddering magic, and she was on uneven earth.
Layla blinked hard against the dramatic shift from Segue light to predawn dark. The horizon was just barely beginning to whiten. The sharp winter air singed her lungs but she didn't feel cold.
Sparks flashed with a volley of automatic weapons fire, startling her heart. She could make out human shapes, but whether man or wraith, she couldn't tell. She picked her way forward, squinting to see. There was movement to her left. The low buzz of a voice. Male. A bunch of men.
Had to be Segue soldiers. One turned, as if sensing her presence.
“Ms. Mathews?”
Adam.
“For chrissake, you should be inside.”
“I'm not a stay-inside kind of girl.” Reckless was her middle name. Adam had no idea.
Layla knelt down behind them. Adam didn't object. He and his men went back to peering at some kind of army technology that displayed glowy human forms moving across a gridded terrain.
Adam tapped on the screen, which shifted vantages. “Where's Khan?”
Of course, Adam would know how she got there, and so quickly. How else could she get through his security and out of the Segue building, some three hundred yards away?
“Somewhere. He won't show himself.”
Adam grunted. Obviously, Khan's behavior wasn't unusual to him.
Layla scanned the woods, letting her eyes adjust to make out a couple of crouched soldiers in the thick brush. Bullets couldn't kill a wraith, but they'd slow it down long enough that a trained team could incapacitate and take it into custody.
“How many?” she whispered.
“At least six,” Adam answered. “This isn't a full-blown attack. They're just testing the perimeter with small parties.”
“What are they after?”
He flicked his gaze over. “Talia. Always Talia.”
The look in his eyes—worry, anger, frustration—made Layla like him for once. Every day he worked to stop the wraiths, crouching in the cold dark to keep his wife and children safe. He was a soldier, like these men, dedicated to a cause. If he was hard and controlling, she guessed he had reason to be.
“The perimeter is secure, Mr. Thorne. One casualty. One wraith in custody. No further wraith-sign.”
“Doesn't feel right,” he answered.
Could've been the cold, but Layla had that bad, skinprickling feeling, too. Like she was in the center of a bull's-eye, oblivious to the arrow winging her way. The soldiers at least had night-vision gear. Adam had his technology. She was in a T-shirt and sweats. But yeah, okay, with Mr. Enigma, dark lord of the fae, nearby.
Layla cast her gaze around, though she knew she wouldn't find him, especially in the dark. A wooly group of pines darted from the earth into the atmosphere. She followed them up to the faint twinkles in the sky.
Just in time to see a . . . a
thing
, a body, dropping from above. It altered its trajectory toward her, its length flattening as it descended. So not dropping, flying. It had no visible feet or hands, though its trunk seemed to have mass. Old, ripped clothes hung off its shoulders. Its face was ravaged with decay, mouth open, teeth extended to feed. Wraith, but not wraith.
Layla grabbed the gun from Adam's holster, flicked the safety off, and fired above into shadow-webbed branches.
“In the trees!” someone shouted a little too late. Rapid gunshot report battered her ears.
A roar of wind darkness blew through the air, riffling her hair and blasting across her back.
Her trigger finger stalled as the wraith was caught midair, twisting, almost crawling up the sky. A hideous
crack
broke the quiet as it bent double, but the wrong way, then fell to the earth with the hollow clatter of loose bones in a fleshy bag.
She'd seen a couple of wraiths brought down before. She'd written about the experience. But never had she seen one shredded like that. Had to be Khan at work again. Khan, her door opener, dream lover, and wraith killer.
She searched the sky, heart pounding, breath coming in great puffs of frosty air.
Another
crack
, and she turned, bracing in fear as a wraith fell dead to the ground.
The soldiers fired their guns again, but if not for Khan, men would be dying.
Layla grabbed Adam's arm. “Will they hurt him?”
Adam had dark, hungry glee in his eyes, a sharp smile cracking his face. “Not a bit.”
The sky went ashy, the sun finally claiming the day. For a moment, Layla saw a swath of Shadow whipping like a cloak around the silhouette of a man. Khan. He was all darkness, arms outstretched, hands raised, body midpivot in the sky. With a pulse, he dispersed into a gritty ink stain and reformed some distance away, a tornado of black to cast another wraith to death on the ground.
“Show-off,” Adam muttered.
Layla was breathless. “How does he do that?”
“Do what?”
“Kill them so quickly, so easily. I've never actually seen one die.”
Adam's eyes glittered. “The wraiths are dead already. He just, uh, seals the deal.”
The explanation made no sense. It had to be a fae thing, a magic thing.
Adam was up, moving toward Khan's first kill. Which was crazy. More wraiths could be out there, yet Adam seemed perfectly comfortable to move around without cover. His men followed suit. Everyone was confident of their safety in Khan's presence.
Layla craned to look above and all around her. Khan was still nowhere in sight, so she leapt, stumbling through the brush, after Adam to follow the story.
“I want the wraith remains picked up and delivered to the holding cell for examination,” he was saying. “This one here first.”
The smell was extraordinary, as if the wraith had been long dead. Layla had to cover her mouth and nose with her hand as she gazed down at the dry, yellowed husk of wraith tissue and bone. In the bushes was a swatch of stringy, dirty hair above jellied eyes. The remains lacked cohesion and weren't remotely recognizable as human.
“And to think,” Adam said, “not too long ago you were camped out in my woods, all by yourself.”
The memory made her wince with a belated realization of how much danger she'd been in. She easily could've been killed.
“What were you really after that day?” Adam took a pair of surgical gloves out of his pocket, put them on, crouched down.
Layla thought of how she'd sat with her camera, willing Talia to step out of Segue. “A photo to run with my story.”
She crouched down, too. What did Adam think he could learn from the body? Was it still possible to identify the man the wraith had once been?
But Adam was looking at her. “You traveled down from New York, hiked for
hours
from Middleton, climbed my wall, and waited out in the cold for a photograph?”
“I know it sounds insane.” She couldn't believe she'd done it either.
Adam shook his head, his hard expression softening. “Talia was all tears when she got back from visiting you the other night. I think I understand a little better now.”
Adam's face was haggard with exhaustion, there was a blood smear at his neck, and by the looks of things, he had a day's worth of work ahead of him before he could rest. And if the wraiths were “testing the perimeter,” as he'd said, then he might just be back out there again come nightfall.
A team of men in plastic coveralls joined them. They were masked and carried large, industrial-looking gray boxes, presumably containing equipment to gather and clean up the mess.
“We can talk more later, if you like,” Adam said. “I've got to take care of things here now. And you can keep the gun. You clearly know how to use it.”
She still gripped the handle, finger light on the trigger. “Segue's safe, then?”
“For the moment.”
She nodded, then stood and stepped back to let the team do its thing while Adam managed the situation. Kept the gun in her hand, though.
It was interesting, if disgusting, work. She'd never seen a wraith killed before or been privy to the collection of its remains. Her adrenaline tanking, Layla crossed her arms to dispel a shiver of cold. The sun was over the horizon, the world washed with pink. The smell of the woods seemed to warm, but the temperature didn't. Soldiers walked among the trees and occasionally pinned the earth with a red flag to indicate the location of remains. And somewhere above, Khan was watching. He'd saved her life again.
An image of the wraith diving through the air flashed through her mind. And here the public thought that wraiths were diseased human beings.
“Can they all fly?” The alteration in the wraith's trajectory easily had been the most frightening moment of the battle. And she'd been searching out their nests to discover what made them work. How long would it have taken for her to arrive at a paranormal explanation? Probably forever.
Adam looked over at her. “Wraiths can't fly any more than people can.”
Layla understood his reasoning, but . . . “This one did. I swear it.”

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