From Ashes Page 8

  And why did the thought of his pushiness both irritate her and make her heart squeeze? The kindness that was set into the soft lines of his face, in the warm brown and green and gold of his eyes, made her feel both cared for and weak. But she didn’t like feeling weak, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to be cherished.

  “You going to stand there and admire me all day? Or are we going to get to work?”

  His teasing voice drew her out of her thoughts, and she wavered for several long moments, the desire to learn to control her magic warring with the instinctual urge to flee.

  But . . . good God hadn’t she run long enough?

  Didn’t she deserve the chance to learn to control the powers ingrained into her every cell?

  Yes, she had. And yes, she did.

  Leaving the distance between them—giving herself an exit in the event that she needed one—she sank to the ground, cleared her mind, and looked over at the man who had captivated her from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  A grin that made her brain threaten to malfunction before he began issuing instructions that had her brain scrambling to focus again . . . and struggling to keep up.

  It was hard. Way harder than she anticipated.

  The first thing he had her attempt was to simply call forth her magic and then cut it off. The stop-start exercise was something that she’d done with Francis, but had never really mastered. Before, instead of relying on skill to leash her powers—because she struggled to find that off switch—she’d allowed herself to get to the point where she was tired, and at that point it had been easy to halt the flow.

  Because by then it had been more of a struggle to keep the magic pouring out of her than to draw it in.

  Half of the little cheats Gabby was using, she wasn’t even aware of.

  “Those cheats are the most dangerous,” Mason said when they discovered that she wasn’t even drawing power in the right way. She had no finesse, just yanked at her mind and whatever magic came out of her was what came. Sometimes it was a flood. Sometimes it was a trickle, but she never knew and never could predict.

  She understood now.

  Both not being able to pull a controlled amount of her magic and relying on fatigue were dangerous, but the danger increased as she trained. Each class with the children, every time she practiced on her own, the stronger she got, and without the ability to draw the right amount of her powers or to be able to shut them off properly, she was a ticking time bomb.

  It surprised her that Francis hadn’t noticed what she was doing, that he hadn’t warned her.

  Not that she’d given him ample opportunity.

  She’d done her level best to disappear in class, then had avoided his attempts to tutor her. Which was why—beyond anything else—she was disappointed with herself.

  Fuck.

  She’d been so worried about keeping her secrets, and—if she were being truly honest—so embarrassed that she couldn’t do something the children could that she hadn’t reached out with questions. Instead, she’d been determined to do it on her own, using ultimately unreliable and slipshod methods to get the tasks done.

  It was like knowing the answer to a few algebra questions and trying to use that to teach herself calculus.

  Hopeless.

  Though, last she looked she couldn’t give someone brain damage with math.

  Which gave her the renewed strength to keep drilling herself, to keep practicing the start-stop Mason was teaching her, long after her body was coated with sweat, her mental muscles exhausted.

  By the end of their lesson a whole half an hour later—and God, but she really needed to keep working on strengthening her mind—Gabby was exhausted, her legs like rubber.

  But she had managed to turn her magic on and off several times. The correct way. And she’d successful drawn the correct amount of her powers more times than not.

  “Good,” Mason said as she cut the magic and collapsed back against the tree. “Rest a bit and then we’ll move onto the next thing.”

  Next thing?

  She couldn’t imagine that she would be ready to move on to the next thing any time soon. Her brain was mush, her powers markedly drained—though she could feel her magic regenerating, trickling back into her mind in a steady flow.

  Well, at least if she learned nothing else, she’d gained an awareness of her powers—and the ability to shut them off.

  Closing her eyes, she lay back on the springy earth. Mason was a good teacher, she realized. And not bad to look at either. Ugh. That was a ridiculous thought, even if it was the truth. Fatigue washing over her, she remained still, even as she heard—no, heard wasn’t right the right word. It was more like she sensed him move, knew that he was walking over to her, closer.

  And, despite her vulnerable position, he didn’t frighten her. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She found a lot of things about Mason scary, but she didn’t think he would physically harm her. The fear was deeper, and told her that while her body might be safe, her heart and mind might not be.

  Dee would tell her to forget that and just jump his bones.

  Her lips curved.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She opened her eyes and saw he’d stopped several feet away. As she watched, he sank down next to her—keeping the distance between them—then lay back and mirrored her position. The man wasn’t sweating, didn’t even look the least bit tired. She on the other hand, felt hot and sticky and gross, and no doubt her hair was a disaster.

  More ridiculous thoughts.

  Who cared about her hair?

  Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing, Gabby admitted that she cared. She wanted him to find her attractive, to want her, to feel even just a fraction of desire for her. And she wanted that perhaps more than she wanted her precious distance.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like her appearance or thought she was unattractive. Sure she had insecurities just the same as anyone else, not to mention that Mason was beyond gorgeous and clearly prettier than her, but she tried not to focus on the things she couldn’t change. Her appearance—and his for that matter—being one of those things. She wasn’t ever going be in a lingerie ad, but she did okay. And that was enough.

  But . . . in the few peaceful moments of her childhood, she’d dreamed about finding a person who would look at her as Mason was doing now.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  Closing her eyes, she snorted. Beautiful, not so much. She was fine. It was all fine. But beautiful? Not quite.

  “You know, I can sense the direction of your thoughts,” Mason said, tone fierce. “And I don’t like them.”

  She didn’t ask how he knew what she was feeling.

  She didn’t need to. She could feel him inside her, ferret out the irritation at her own train of thoughts, and beneath that, she could sense that he did think she was attractive. And even though she knew that shouldn’t make one bit of difference, she couldn’t stop a blip of warmth from sliding through her heart.

  Mason thought she was pretty.

  She could feel that, the proof crystal clear in his thoughts.

  Which meant that the evidence for there being a bond between them was pretty much undeniable.

  “I do all right,” she said. “And anyway, it shouldn’t matter how I look.”

  See? That was what she should be focusing on.

  “Seriously, Sunshine.” Her lips quirked at the endearment. “And you’re right. It doesn’t matter what you look like. Though . . .” He trailed off, was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. A slight rasp she felt between her thighs. “With your cheeks flushed like that, and your hair all mussed, you look just like a woman who’s been thoroughly ravished—”

  Her eyes flew open, met his, mischief in those hazel depths. “Mason!”

  He chuckled and a wave of heat washed over her, fueled by his attraction. Because she could feel his desire in her
mind and it fueled her need, coating her from head to toe, raising goose bumps on her skin, sending flutters through her stomach.

  Her eyes caught on his biceps, the way they bulged from below the cuff of his T-shirt, then on the strip of exposed skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

  Flat abs, a dark trail of hair leading south. She wanted to—

  Gabby had to actually shake herself. The attraction, their mixed desire, the need to go to him almost overwhelming. But—

  The secrets.

  Her heart clenched, her eyes swinging away from his to focus on the trees. Because nothing between them had changed. Not really. Sure they’d managed to work together for a half hour, but all of the reasons to keep separate still existed. Her past. Her mother. Her bone-deep fear of trusting anyone—let alone someone who could delve into her mind, draw out every hidden memory.

  And the truth was that no one would love her if they knew the truth.

  Then there was his wife, his lost son.

  How could he move on from something like that? How could she even compare?

  The soft brush of fingertips on her cheek made her gasp and her eyes flew down to see Mason had come over to sit directly next to her. She hadn’t sensed him move, hadn’t heard a single rustle of fabric or the crunch of a leaf, and he was right there. Big and overwhelming and . . . scary.

  “You’re a ninja,” she said, trying desperately for a joke because the look on his face was determined and that didn’t bode well for her resistance. “You know that, right?”

  He didn’t laugh but one brow came up, and maybe she was kidding herself, but she thought his expression might have softened the tiniest bit. She tried to focus on his emotions coming across their fragile connection, the gossamer strands linking them together, but her own were too intense. They overwhelmed anything she was getting from him.

  Everything he invoked in her was larger than life. The heat, the fear, her magic’s urge to rush forth and envelope them both.

  He was the rope attached to a ship’s anchor.

  But her emotions, the secrets inside her, threatened to pull her to the bottom of the ocean. Their connection made her want to let go of that heavy weight, to allow it to drop unhindered to the seabed, to allow the bindings to wrap around her and keep herself.

  And God how she wanted that—to forget her reservations, to put aside the purposeful distance she kept between herself and the rest of the world, and just go for it.

  Just to see what would happen.

  Because surely it would be something really, really, good.

  Except . . . that didn’t happen in real life. Good things didn’t happen in her life.

  “What’s the matter, Sunshine?” he asked. “Why are you so upset?”

  She could visualize a boulder already been pushed from the top of a cliff, the heavy stone pounding down the hillside, toppling end over end as it hurtled for its inevitable destination.

  And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t the damn rock, or worse, the earth at the bottom that was about to get crushed, she didn’t buy it.

  One part of her—no doubt the sane portion—was filled with dread, with fear, and fought against the piece wanted to trust Mason, to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t leave her, that he would maybe, someday, even love her.

  Which was clearly impossible, she understood that.

  He wouldn’t be paying her the least bit of attention if not for the bond’s influence. Daughtry had made that clear to her. The bond was a magical construct, two powers that were a good fit, regardless of the people who possessed them. It was biology’s way of ensuring that future lines of Rengalla would be powerful, nothing to do with Mason wanting her as a man wanted a woman.

  The desire was a byproduct of that—their powers’ way of forcing them close. It had drawn Dee and Cody together, just as it was pushing Mason and Gabby at one another.

  Not real. Not real. Not. Real.

  Right.

  Now, she thought, mentally nodding, she just needed him to leave so she could strengthen her barriers against him

  “You know,” she blurted, grasping at straws, trying desperately to change the subject, trying to scour her mind with a way to put him off. But not hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt him again. She didn’t think she could bear that. “We’re probably not even bonded.”

  He stared at her, his hazel eyes penetrating straight through the layer of crap she was trying to slop on.

  “We’re not bonded,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said, knowing he was referring to them taking the final step of bonding by mixing their magic. “I just—” A sharp shake of her head. “This connection between our minds might be nothing.”

  His lips pressed flat. After a moment, he said, “Nothing as in I can sense your emotions? Nothing in that I can track you through these woods without a second thought—”

  “You could do that anyway.”

  “I didn’t take you for stupid,” he said, cutting off her gasp of outrage at being called stupid with a wave of his hand. “So that must mean you don’t want to bond with me.” He propped his head up on his arm, the couple of feet of distance between them seeming vast all of a sudden, especially when she felt his mind retreat slightly.

  Shit.

  Because this wasn’t about him. He was . . . well, he seemed quite wonderful and she didn’t want him to think there was something wrong with him, not when she knew how much that hurt. Instead, she wanted him to know it was about her.

  But before she could puzzle out what to say, he asked, “Why don’t you want to bond with me? You don’t think I’m attractive?”

  Mortification stained her cheeks. “No! It’s not that! You’re sexy and I’ve dreamed about kissing—” She froze, clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Mason slid close, pulled it off, and then laced his fingers with hers. The contact settled something within her, even as it sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. “So, not that then,” he said softly then slipped a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Also, for the record, I dreamed about kissing you.” His thumb drew light circles on her palm, making her nerves prickle. “And I think you’re sexy.”

  “But—” She shook her head. “Your wife—”

  Gabby ground her teeth together, hating the flash of pain on his face, hating that she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have . . .” She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

  His thumb had stopped moving on her skin when she brought up his wife, but after a moment, if began tracing those little circles again. “I loved Victoria,” he said, pain his words, but no anger. “And we were happy together, but I don’t think she would begrudge me a chance at this.”

  Gabby sighed, pulled back. “But I don’t even know what this is!”

  “Don’t you?” he asked. “After five hundred years without a bond, Daughtry and Cody broke the cycle. Now it seems as though we might continue the trend. Is that what scares you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Yes. I mean, I don’t care that we’d be the second couple bonded in five hundred years. I just worry . . . I might mess something up,” she added, floundering for a reason, for another truth besides the fact that her past made her terrified of moving forward.

  “No, I don’t think you’ll mess something up,” he said, taking her hand again. “I know you will. I know I will,” he added when she winced. “That’s how relationships work. People do their best, but sometimes—”

  He broke off and she nearly gasped as the wave of pain bombarded her mind.

  But it wasn’t her pain. No, it was—

  Her gaze flicked up, took in the shadows of agony and sadness within Mason’s hazel eyes. Which was when reality slammed into her with the impact of a locomotive. The fear, the past, none of it was as important as the man in front of her.

  Because not everything was about her.

 
Because he was a person with a heart, not just memories and fears.

  And because . . . he was hurting too.

  In that moment, seeing those hazel eyes clouded with pain, she wanted nothing more than to relieve his suffering, to regain that little twitch of his lips, the amusement in his expression.

  Her heart stuttered, hope gathering inside like so much helium.

  And still it was diving headfirst into a river of piranhas. Terrifying, anticipating an agony that was sure to come.

  She leaped anyway.

  Closing the distance between them, she slanted her mouth against his.

  Fourteen

  Mason

  He lay frozen for one long moment before his body surged into action. One hand came up to cup her face, the other slid down her side to grasp her hip.

  He wanted—fuck, how he wanted—to cup her ass, but he thought that might be too much, too soon. She might have initiated the kiss, but she hadn’t given him permission to grope her like an animal.

  And despite reigning himself in, despite grabbing tightly to his control, the kiss was still every. Her taste—slightly tart and floral like one of those expensive gourmet cupcakes. The soft curves under his palms, the quiet moan in the back of her throat, the sweetly innocent way her lips moved on his. So yeah, it took every bit of his control to lie back and allow her to set the pace, especially as his body urged—no, demanded—that he take, that he strip her naked and tuck her beneath him, that he coat her from hair to toes in a fine sheet of his magic. Still, he forced himself to let her take the lead, managed to reign himself in.

  Her tongue touched the seam of his closed lips and gave one long, slow lick.

  That was the end for him.

  Opening, he slid his tongue into her mouth, delving deeper as he reached down to cup the firm globes of her ass and pull her flush against him.

  Sweet Christ, it was even better than he’d imagined.

  He broke away, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, his cock harder than it had ever been. “You taste so fucking good.” He pressed a row of kisses along her cheek, down the smooth column of her neck. Her hips bucked, and he found she’d shifted, was straddling his thigh, the heat of her pussy through both of their jean driving him insane—