Shadow's Awakening: The Shadow Warder Series, Book One (An Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (30 page)

They’d had her on the cold metal table again, shining that glaring light in her eyes and poking her with needles. Michael and Henry hovering, watching, talking over her prone body as if she was no more than a lab rat. She’d tried to stay alert and figure out what they wanted with her, but it was hard to discern. They gave her different injections, tested her mental and physical reflexes, made notes on her responses, but none of it seemed to string together into a singular goal. Almost as if they were waiting, biding their time until something else happened, entertaining themselves with her until they could get down to the real job.

In the end, it didn’t matter what they were up to. She had to figure out a way to get out. Henry was the weak link. In her head, Hannah called him Renfield, after Dracula’s toadying, bug-eating acolyte. Henry didn’t seem blessed with an overabundance of brains. So far his greatest skill was sucking up to Michael, who was not a weak link. Michael terrified her. If she was going to try to escape the lab, Hannah knew she had to find a way to do it when Michael wasn’t there.

Her biggest hurdle, aside from being locked in and not knowing where the lab was or how to get out, was the collar. The first day it had been a muffle, creating a barrier between her and the energy around her, effectively short-circuiting the power that made her a Shadow. Now, on the third day, she was sure it was weakening her a little more each day. If she was right, she needed to make a move before it was too late.

When Michael was around, Hannah was careful to be as compliant as possible. His eyes were too sharp, cataloging every twitch and flinch. Giving him the slightest reason to suspect her would end her plans before she could begin. Henry, on the other hand, did what he was told and not much more. It was odd that Michael wouldn’t have someone smarter as his assistant. But then, maybe he wanted to be the brains. And while Henry didn’t seem too bright, he was devoted to Michael. Loyalty had value when you were conducting illicit experiments in a secret lab. Hannah wanted to smack Henry every time he said “Yes, sir” to Michael in that worshipful tone. Michael treated him like an annoying idiot and Henry came groveling back for more. She could use that.

Her resonating wasn’t a well-honed talent, but it was her best shot. Since she couldn’t access outside energy, telekinesis wasn’t an option. But for some reason, the collar didn’t affect her ability to resonate. Hannah thought maybe because the Tk drew energy from the world around her—access that the collar blocked. When she resonated her will onto another person, she drew from within her own mind and projected directly to the subject’s mind. It was a weak power in that sense, reliant on the small charge of energy generated in her own body.

Yet she could tell that if properly honed it would be an effective skill, not unlike a scalpel. Small and unassuming by itself; capable of amazing feats in the right hands. Hannah’s weren’t the right hands. Not yet. She and Conner had barely been able to practice with it. Only just enough that she had a feel for how it worked and what it felt like to extend her will into another mind. It could be a scalpel, but in her hands it was more like a foam sledgehammer. Bulky and weak. Almost useless. Too bad it was all she had to work with.

She wouldn’t have dared to attempt resonating on Michael. The first day, out of panic, she’d touched Michael’s mind with hers. It had been as useful as pinging gravel against granite. Nothing. No way in. Henry, on the other hand, had shields like firm jello. They resisted her probes, then made room for her thoughts in a mushy mess. Far from the targeted resonating she should be capable of, but at least she had access.

Hannah was afraid to try anything with Michael in the room. She wasn’t sure if he could sense when she used her abilities. Conner had felt something from her. The last thing she wanted to do was run the risk of drawing the wrong attention from Michael. So far he didn’t seem to suspect that she had any special talent. She wanted to keep it that way. That morning she’d tried to get to Henry when he’d delivered her breakfast tray. Focusing on penetrating his mind gently, Hannah had mentally directed him to put the tray on the end of the bed instead of the floor as he had the two days before. Relief had flooded her when he’d placed the tray as instructed and left without any awareness that he’d acted out of the norm.

Buoyed by her success, she’d tried again when he returned for the tray. This time she’d told him not to lock the door behind him. It had almost worked. He’d picked up the tray, barely sparing her a glance. On his way out he normally held the tray in one hand and turned the key in the lock with the other. Instead, he’d paused at the door, opened it, stepped through, then closed it slowly, as if moving through molasses. Hannah watched him through the small glass window in the door, telling him over and over to walk away. He hovered there, one hand reaching to the handle, for endless seconds before he finally inserted the key, turned it and walked away. Damn. She should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. Still, it was progress. Henry seemed to remain unaware she’d been tinkering with his head. She thanked whatever impulse had led Michael to employ a dim assistant rather than a bright one.

Lying back on the bed, Hannah tried to fall asleep. She’d been tired all the time since she’d arrived in the lab. It was possible they were drugging her to slow her down. Or it could be the collar. Whatever it was, she needed to rest. Sleep was elusive. Counting to one hundred in her head for what felt like the twentieth time, she willed her edgy brain to relax.

Chapter Eighteen

Hannah knew immediately that she was dreaming. She stood in the clearing behind the cabin she’d shared with Conner, still wearing the hospital gown, feet bare and chilled in the damp grass. Blurred tendrils of mist snaked through the trees, rolling into a low fog that drifted around her ankles. She should have been creeped out, alone in the cold, misty dark. She was, a little. But underneath the slight sense of unease, Hannah wanted to be in the dream. Even creepy, it was a vast improvement over the lab.

The hollow crack of a breaking stick startled Hannah, sending the first shiver of fear up her spine. It sounded close, no more than thirty feet away. Head cocked, listening for another sound, Hannah peered into the dense woods. A shadow, taller and broader than her, wove through the dark outlines of trees, teasing her with its random path. Was it getting closer or circling the clearing? Looking overhead, she saw thick clouds blocking the moon. Maybe if she had some light she could see what was out there. Hannah thought about looking for a safe place to hide, maybe seeing if the cabin was real in the dream, when she changed her mind. It was a dream. She wasn’t going to run. She was tired of running. She was going to find out what was hiding in the woods.

Walking quickly, before she could lose her nerve, Hannah moved toward the last place she’d seen the dark figure. She didn’t sense anything off—no weird hum of Vorati or the feeling that a threat lurked unseen in the night. The crack of another branch echoed behind her. Whirling, Hannah faced the large figure still lurking in the shadows. A cloud slid away from the moon, flooding the clearing with milky blue-white light.

Before she could register what she was seeing, the mysterious figure left the woods, entering the suddenly bright clearing as if breaking through the surface of a dark lake. One moment he was a shade, the next he was there, pulling her into his arms, crushingly close. Conner. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, face pressing into his neck, his body hard and warm against her.

If this was a dream, Hannah knew she wanted to stay asleep. Forget the real world. That wasn’t working out so well for her lately. This was much better. Conner held her tight against him, murmuring her name as his hands touched her everywhere. Unable to resist, not wanting to, she pressed her open mouth to the hot, damp skin of his neck. He tasted of Conner. Salty, warm, and familiar. If her dream was going to be this detailed, Hannah planned to enjoy it. Who knew how long she’d have before she was forced awake? Sliding her hands down his back, she delved beneath his shirt in search of his skin, supple and alive under her fingertips. Conner groaned at her simple touch.

The flimsy hospital gown had a single tie in the middle of her back, making it a simple matter for Conner to pull it from her body. With an impatient tug of his hands she was bare to the waist.

“Hannah,” Conner whispered in her ear.

She pulled back just enough to get her hands on his belt buckle. Before she could get it undone, he was pulling her to the ground, grass cool and damp beneath her heated skin. Hannah imagined she could see steam rising around them. The bond between them, banked during their separation, flared to life, passionate and needy. Everywhere they touched she felt afire. Conner’s hand cupping her breast was enough to have her arching up to meet him, wanting more. He drew her soul to the surface of her skin in the form of pure, distilled pleasure, so sharp and sweet she almost came when his mouth closed over one hard nipple. Head falling back, Hannah was overwhelmed. His mouth drew on her breast in deep sucking pulls, each tug sending another flood of moisture between her legs. Fumbling with his belt, Hannah kept losing hold of the stiff leather. She wanted him naked, moving inside her. She was empty, slick and aching. With a clank of metal, she managed to get the buckle undone. Ripping at the button and zipper, she pushed his jeans down his hips.

Her fingers stroked his firm ass and Hannah lost interest in dealing with his pants. This was good enough. Wriggling beneath him to get a better grip, Hannah sank her fingers into his hips and tugged him closer. His thick, hard cock pressed against her, grazing her clit and sending her to the edge of orgasm.

“Please,” she moaned. He released her breast and reached between them, searching for her heat. A finger traced a circle around her entrance, gathering moisture.

“Always wet for me,” he breathed in her ear. “Always ready.”

“Please, Conner.”

Hannah lifted her hips against him, stroking her heat down his length. He shifted, pressing the head of his cock against her. Despite their desperate need, he pushed into her slowly. She might always be wet and ready for him, but he was a tight fit. Arching her hips, Hannah took another inch, wanting him to fill her all the way. The stretching pain added to the pleasure of Conner inside her. If his hands drew a previously unknown pleasure from the depths of her body, the thrust of his cock inside her turned her inside out. Hannah felt herself lose control, every cell in her body flush with the ecstasy of Conner pressed to the hilt.

As if they’d done it a hundred times, they moved together, thrusting deep, grinding hard. Unable to reach her breasts from his position on top of her, Conner rested his weight on his arms and took her mouth. His kiss was the final spark that pushed Hannah over the edge into release. Tongue stroking, his mouth worked her, claiming her with his lips, swallowing her keening cry. Hannah broke away, gasping for breath as the orgasm wracked her body. Making love with Conner was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Every time she came with him she thought she might drown in the pleasure. Conner thrust through the rhythmic pulses of her release. Denied her mouth, he bit into her neck, sucking away the sting before moving on to another tender spot.

Hannah raised her legs to grip his hips, wrapping herself around him, trying to fill her senses with Conner. He reached down with one strong hand to cup her ass, tilting her hips so that he could take her even deeper.

“Come for me. I want to feel it again.” He nipped her earlobe, his tenderness at odds with the lines of tension held in every muscle in his long body.

Hannah heard her voice raised in incoherent moans as pleasure gathered and bloomed, rising yet again. She gripped Conner’s shoulders and hung on for the ride. It seemed like only moments before she exploded beneath him a second time, her body clenching around him, refusing to leave him behind. With a deep groan, Conner emptied himself inside her.

It didn’t feel like a dream. That was Hannah’s first coherent thought after Conner rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she lay sprawled across his body and not on the cool ground. She felt the moisture drip between her legs, the poke of a small stick into her calf. Conner’s breath tickled her ear. It wasn’t real. Hannah knew she hadn’t escaped the lab. But everything was more detailed than any dream she’d had before. Conner ran his hands down her arms, stroking her skin with his callused fingers. She couldn’t help her flinch when he grazed her wrist. Conner noticed her reaction and pulled her hand up until he could see her clearly in the dim moonlight. A long scrape circled her wrist, highlighting an uneven bruise over an inch wide.

“What is this?” Conner asked, his body suddenly tense.

“They strapped me down to examine me.”

“The Shadows did this to you?” Conner sat up, dragging Hannah with him to cradle her on his lap. He examined her other wrist and both ankles, seeing identical cuts and bruises.

“No. Not the Shadows. He didn’t take me to them. He took me to a lab somewhere.”