From Ashes Read online

  Gabby screamed, but aside from one quick glance that assured him she was okay, he couldn’t focus on her.

  Not if he wanted to survive. Not if he wanted to ensure she lived.

  He shot his own magic behind him, a hardened bolt of fire. It wouldn’t kill the Dalshie, but it would wound and force his attacker to take a moment to heal.

  That distraction was what Mason was after.

  It worked. A curse blistered through the air and the black magic that had wrapped around his thigh disappeared. A second later, he was back on his feet and charging at the nearest Dalshie.

  This time he managed to deal the killing blow—a slice across the throat, severing his enemy’s head from his shoulders.

  More ash coated the air, made the stones at his feet slippery.

  When the black magic came again, this time Mason was ready, already turning, already facing the two enemies at his back. He dodged, using his ability to teleport, and flew forward to thrust his knife directly between the closer Dalshie’s ribs.

  One to go.

  Spitting out the sickening remains that clogged his nose, coated his mouth and tongue, he risked a glance at Gabby.

  Only to find that she wasn’t there.

  “Mason!” The fear in her voice, slamming across their connection focused his mind like a laser.

  His magic surged, readying to teleport toward her when the masculine voice rang out.

  “Stop, or I’ll kill her.”

  They would kill her anyway. They always did. But even as his adrenaline was surging, memories and the present in his brain, Mason’s eyes finally caught up with his mind. The final Dalshie stood at the cliff’s edge, his arm around Gabby’s throat, a narrow slice of his chest unprotected and vulnerable to a killing blow.

  Mason didn’t stop to think.

  In one swift movement, the blade flew from his hand and he teleported himself forward.

  It was too late.

  The Dalshie pushed Gabby hard. She slipped on the wet surface, scrambled to stay on her feet, and . . . with a shriek of terror, she went over the edge.

  Was lost beneath the millions of gallons of pounding water.

  The Dalshie rotated back to Mason, his shit-eating grin spreading his fetid lips wide.

  Not for long.

  The knife sunk into the Dalshie’s chest. Ash exploded.

  Mason didn’t care about any of that.

  He threw himself over the cliff.

  Twenty-Three

  Gabby

  Her scream cut off abruptly.

  One second she was plummeting through the air, her eyes shut, water pounding into her hard enough to bruise. The next she was wrapped in a pair of strong arms and floating in space.

  She didn’t need to smell the spicy scent of sandalwood or to see the firm jaw and hazel eyes to know it was Mason.

  No, she’d already known that he would save her. Known it with bone-deep certainty.

  Slowly, they began to rise.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding tight as they climbed the distance she’d fallen.

  It was a long way.

  “I’ve got you.” His voice was soft, comforting, but his mind was a mess—a tangled web of anger, fear, rage, and the frozen quality that it took on whenever his memories got particularly bad. Opening her eyes, she stared into his, willing him to feel that she was okay, that she was so thankful he’d saved her, to not blame himself.

  It was too late.

  He wasn’t shut off from her. Not exactly. But he sure as hell wasn’t receptive to her gratitude.

  Glancing away, her jaw dropped open at the utter beauty of his magic. It surrounded them in a web of green and gold and brown, an exact match to the ever-changing mix of colors that were his irises.

  A moment later, they were at the top of the falls, and back on the flat granite surface.

  He unwove his magic enough to slip one arm through—snatched up the backpack—then closed the hole and propelled them forward. They rose above the trees and flew in the direction of the Colony, toward the pearlescent shield of intertwined emerald and violet fibers. It was bright despite the several-mile distance.

  And . . . it took maybe ten seconds to get there.

  Maybe.

  If she were rounding up.

  Because even as she processed the sheer speed at which they were traveling, in the next heartbeat, she found herself on her feet, planted on the grass outside the shield, Mason steadying her as he unzipped the pack and pulling out her phone.

  He punched a series of numbers into it and began barking orders.

  A minute later, the shield peeled back enough that they were able to enter. The door-sized opening began to close even before they were fully through. Dante, Cody, John, and Daughtry poured out of the front of the Colony, followed by Suz and a few of the other nurses, and Gabby knew her internal limit was surpassed.

  She knew all about adrenaline, knew the aftereffects were leaving her shaky and light-headed. She needed . . .

  “Mason.”

  It wasn’t until he turned surprised hazel eyes on her that she realized he’d heard her mental plea clearly, hadn’t just sensed her emotions and faced her.

  No, he’d actually heard her. From her mind to his. Happiness and fear chased through her, followed by a hundred other emotions, but by then it was too late to process them.

  Black spots marred her vision and unconsciousness took her under.

  When she woke up, her head was pounding, her eyes crusted shut. She was in bed, a thin blanket pulled up to her neck.

  The room was dark, seeming as though it were filled solely with shadows.

  Then one of the shadows moved.

  Her gasp halted mid-release. Because she knew that mind, had sensed the warmth, the rightness of being near the man in the room.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her throat dry, her voice rasping.

  A lamp flicked on, and she blinked, realizing for the first time that she wasn’t in the infirmary as she’d expected but in someone’s quarters.

  Someone’s because this sure as hell wasn’t her room.

  She watched as Mason turned and opened a door. The sound of running water filled the space, evoking all sorts of memories that she didn’t want to remember.

  Roaring falls. Her stomach feeling as though it would fly up and out her throat.

  But underneath that had been conviction.

  Not that she was going to die.

  No, she’d known that Mason would save her. Now she just had to convince him to not blame himself—

  A cool glass was pressed into her hand. “Drink.”

  Her fingers closed reflexively around it then lifted it to her mouth and she guzzled hurriedly. After the cup was drained and her throat no longer burned, she turned to Mason.

  “Come here,” she murmured, holding out her arms.

  The demons were back, had ensnared his mind in frost. As much as it pained her to let him stew, she knew that right now wasn’t the time for assurances or to try to ferret out every single facet of his emotions.

  Nope. This was the time to let him hold her, to let him feel she was whole and safe and uninjured.

  When he hesitated, she pulled out the big guns.

  “I need you.”

  He closed the distance between them, pausing for a moment near the side of the bed to remove his boots. The mattress dipped under his weight and sandalwood coated her nostrils as he lay down and tugged her into his arms.

  She wasn’t tired. Couldn’t possibly sleep more than she already had.

  But a few minutes in Mason’s arms, his warmth soaking into her, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, and her eyes were drifting closed.

  “Rest now,” he murmured.

  “Not tired—” The protest was punctuated by a wide yawn and she felt the first tendrils of amusement crack through the ice that encased Mason’s mind.

  The glimpse of emotions she was able to sense below that ice scared her.


  A whirling, tangled mass of thoughts, of guilt and anger, of fear assaulted her for one long second before he was able to lock everything away.

  “You shouldn’t feel—”

  “Hush,” he whispered. “It’ll be better in the morning.”

  She wanted to protest, but he was stroking a hand through her hair and down her back, murmuring soft comforts in her ear and sleep snagged its talons into her.

  When she next awoke, Mason was gone.

  “Hey!”

  Turning, she spotted Daughtry running towards her.

  Before she had the chance to do more than smile, she was wrapped tight into her friend’s arms.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Dee murmured, giving Gabby one last squeeze before letting go. Her friend’s cheeks were a little pink and she shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry about the hug.” She grimaced. “You had me worried.”

  “Because I fell off a waterfall, or because I ran away like a little kid?”

  “Either.” Dee grinned. “Okay, both.”

  Gabby felt amusement course through her for the first time that day, for the first time since she’d woken in Mason’s quarters and had found him gone. The mattress cold, his scent already dissipating.

  “Oh, shut up,” she said. “And come here.” Reaching forward, she snagged her friend in another hug, longer and less awkward the second go around. Neither of them were big touchers, but damned if this situation didn’t call for a little more hugging.

  A wolf-whistle broke them apart.

  “Don’t move!” the masculine voice called. “I left my phone in my quarters—”

  “Shut up, Tyler!” they said in unison.

  “I’m wounded,” he said, moving down the hall and around the corner. A heartbeat later, he peeked back around the corner and called, “Seriously, though. Suz was looking for you, Gabby baby. She’s in the infirmary.”

  Gabby baby?

  She shook herself, ignoring the nickname and focused on the more important piece of that statement. “Is everything okay?”

  Tyler nodded, turning his smile on her, the light from the crystal chandeliers glinting against his skin. “Apparently you have some computer work to catch up on.”

  Gabby laughed to herself, that reminding her of the joking conversation she’d had the previous day with Mason about his job.

  Computer work.

  Apparently both of them were at risk of getting out of shape.

  When Tyler looked at her knowingly, she bit her lip to stifle her amusement and quickly waved goodbye. Turning back to Daughtry—who was staring at her with a mix of concern and cat-ate-the-canary on her face—Gabby scrambled for an excuse to get away.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to confide in her friend.

  It was that she didn’t know what was going on.

  Mason was there. He was gone.

  Aside from checking in with Suz and her computer work, Gabby knew she needed to track down Mason. His mind was a faint presence in the back of hers, a light buzz that told her he was alive, uninjured, but it didn’t tell her anything about how he was feeling. It didn’t let her know if he was still wracked with guilt, still trapped beneath the frigidness of the past.

  So yes, he was right up there at the top of her list of priorities.

  An excuse readied on the tip of her tongue, Gabby started to speak, “I—”

  “Before you put your running skills to use and scoot out of here,” Dee said, grabbing her arm and turning them both in the direction of the infirmary. Her voice lowered. “Is it true? Did you . . . bond?”

  “I—” Gabby scrambled. “Why would you—?”

  “Mason went on a rampage last night, demanded that you be taken to his quarters, that he look after you.” Dee shrugged. “Cody said Mason looked how he felt when all of the bonding stuff was going on with us.”

  Gabby’s feet froze for a half a second before she was able to get them moving again. “I—uh—we’re not bonded.”

  A look of such disappointment passed across Dee’s face that Gabby instantly felt guilty enough to spill the truth. Despite the urge to hold the truth close to her chest, to not let anyone know in case things didn’t work out, she couldn’t lie to her friend.

  “Dee?”

  Daughtry glanced over.

  “We’re not bonded.” She sucked in a breath and blurted, “Yet.”

  “What?” Daughtry screeched then winced and lowered her voice. “Yet? Yet? Tell me!” she demanded. “Tell me everything!”

  “I—”

  “No, wait.” Daughtry put her hand up, bringing that side of the conversation to a dizzying halt. “I’m being nosy. Don’t feel like you have to say anything. I know it’s unexpected and you’re probably feeling rubbed raw on the inside.”

  She studied her friend’s face, soaked up the words that perfectly described the way she was feeling. Then noted the puppy dog please tell me every single detail expression in Dee’s startingly violet eyes.

  “Good grief,” Gabby muttered. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

  Daughtry had the good sense to look abashed. “I’m sorry.” She winced. “Okay, I’m really not. Apparently, my inner busybody has come out to roost. I want to know,” she said. “The difference is that I don’t expect you to tell me.” Her cheeks went a little pink. “Okay, maybe I do.”

  There was a moment of silence before they both burst into laughter.

  Gabby shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

  “No clue,” Daughtry joked but then her expression sobered. “Baring your soul or not, are you really doing okay?”

  She shrugged and they turned another corner, this one leading into the hall by the infirmary. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m shocked, of course. It’s not like I could have ever expected this.”

  “Can I just say that it’ll be nice to not be the only bonded couple?”

  A smile curled Gabby’s lips. “Yes, you can. But I’m not sure when we’ll bond.” Or if, she thought, sobering, considering the way his mind currently felt where it brushed against hers. Cold. Distant. And beneath that, guilt and pain. “We’re taking it slow, getting to know each other before we commit to the whole life-altering, magical connection thing.” Her tone was deliberately light.

  Daughtry smiled, though it was tinged with concern. “That’s smart, though,” she said. “I know it would have been nice to have that option, to have not mixed our magic until we’d understood the consequences. Not that I regret any of my time with Cody,” she added hurriedly. “It was just a big adjustment all at once.”

  Considering that Dee hadn’t grown up in the Colony, hadn’t known about her magic at until just before she’d fled the Dalshie invading her home and met up with Cody and John, Gabby could well understand her friend’s reasoning.

  She shrugged. “It’s all worked out now.” A peaceful, glazed-over expression came over her friend’s face—Cody drunk again—and Gabby’s heart did a little flip. She might have that with Mason, that connection, the lacing together of each other’s souls, the love and devotion.

  Dee blinked and a wry smile came over her face. “Sorry,” she said. “I need to go.”

  “Cody back from patrol?”

  Daughtry’s cheeks heated. “Maybe.”

  Gabby laughed and gave her friend a little shove. “Go on then.”

  Dee nodded but hesitated before she would have turned away. “Hey, Gabby? I think you’re smart to take things slow, to learn each other before becoming bound as tight as two souls can be.” She paused, as if trying to find the correct words. “But don’t be afraid to jump. Because eventually one of you will have to.”

  Twenty-Four

  Mason

  He was in hell.

  The past tangled with the present, images of Victoria and Jacob intertwined with the vision of Gabby being pushed from the cliff. When he’d propelled himself from the side he hadn’t been thinking, had only been able to see the fear in her face, he
ar her scream of terror.

  It had been everything that he’d pictured Victoria and Jacob experiencing—the visual representation of his deepest, darkest fears.

  But much worse. It had been so much worse than he’d imagined.

  So he did what he always did.

  Went and shot shit.

  The familiar weight of the gun in his hand was soothing; the rapid pop-pop sound of the shots—muted through his headphones—matched his elevated pulse.

  His skin was too tight for his body, the memories threatened to consume him.

  “Fuck!”

  He dropped the spent gun to the counter. It hit with a smack that echoed the sound of his fist crunching against the concrete wall on his left side. Blood dripped from his split knuckles, and he knew that later it would hurt like hell.

  But right at that moment, it was the demons inside of him that were threatening to consume him whole and not the pain in his hand.

  Rage and fear burned hot within him.

  Why, when he’d finally accepted that he might be able to move forward, to risk his heart enough to build something with Gabby, had the Dalshie come in and screwed everything up again?

  He wanted to go out and kill each and every one of them. He wanted to bathe in their ashes, to have the substance coat his skin like it was some sort of sick battle trophy. He—

  “That good, huh, bro?”

  Mason’s eyes slid closed at his brother’s voice. “What do you want?”

  Morgan—the youngest of the three of them by about ten minutes—leaned around Mason, and though he smiled, his eyes were serious as they took in all the details. Spent casings, discarded magazines, the gun placed haphazardly on the counter. “You’re scaring the new recruits.”

  Mason rolled his eyes but flashed his gaze to the space over Morgan’s shoulder. A group of four or five Rengallan warriors were standing there, and they looked—a curse hissed out from between his clenched teeth—terrified, all huddled together in the corner.