Twilight Siege

35

“Why is she orchestrating this uprising?” “Guin, it’s only ever been about Guin.” “Are there others in the Hunt working with you?” Ronan clenched his jaw and began to turn blue in the face before his blurted, “No.” From behind Lochlan I watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed—one of his biggest fears was that the betrayal had run far deeper than just Ronan. “Who else are you working with?” “No one.” “Let’s learn some more about Morgan…” I had held a firm conviction that I wanted to be present for Ronan’s interrogation and even his death, but as I watched the broken man purge his secrets one by one, all I wanted to do was leave. My logical mind understood that he deserved everything he got, but my softer more emotional side felt like watching the spectacle would change me in ways I wasn’t ready for. The bloody image of him alone would stay with me for a very long time, let alone watching his death. The questions could go on for hours, and I felt confident that seeing him chained to the wall and battered had served to adequately assure me that Ronan would not be able to hurt me again. I slipped from the room and backtracked to the elevator, pulling out my phone to text Ashley. She told me to go on without her so I silently hurried from the building. Weeks of riding a rollercoaster of emotions made me unstable at best and seeing Lochlan lip locked with another woman followed by Ronan’s interrogation was more than my sensitive psyche could handle. Who was I kidding? The overwhelming despair I was feeling had little to do with Ronan and was almost entirely owed to a certain blueeyed man who made me lose focus of everything else around me. Tears running down my face, I let myself inside my apartment and went straight up to bed. I didn’t change my clothes, I didn’t take off my makeup. Instead, I curled up under my covers and listened to the noises coming in off the street. I had told myself no more s*x, but apparently that had not been strict enough. My ban would have to extend itself to no Fae men. No more heated glances, no more soft touches or gentle kisses, no more daydreams and no more wanting. My goals had been to protect myself, stop the war from coming, and to kill Ronan—nowhere on that list did I need to find a love connection. I had checked off one of the three tasks, just two more to go. OceanofPDF.com Part 2 OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com 1

PART 2

12 My back slammed onto the mat but the impact that would have knocked me breathless months ago did little to slow me down. I instantly rolled to my side and with a quick kick-up I was back on my feet in a defensive stance across from Lochlan. We sparred every day for hours, day after day, month after month—I was immensely proud of my acquired physical skills, and equally disappointed with how little magic I had learned. Every time Lochlan attempted to teach me to trace or manipulate memories or even do a simple glamour, nothing happened. Like I had some kind of magic learning disability and needed to go to Special Ed for Faeries. After I had manipulated smoke for the first time, I spent every night with a Zippo lighter and tree bark up on the roof of the Huntsman. I froze my ass off but it was worth the exhilaration of watching the smoke slither back and forth like a snake or tie itself in a knot. I could make the smoke separate into different sections, dissipate until almost unseen and then reform, and condense until appearing almost solid. Those sessions kept alive a glimmer of hope that I would somehow figure out the rest of my powers, assuming there were more. I learned early on not to ask Lochlan about working with magic, all he’d give me was a surly, ‘I’m working on it.’ Instead of dwelling on something I could do nothing about, I put all my energy into hand-to-hand combat skills. I learned to use my size to my advantage and accepted the necessity of fighting dirty. The Fae may be hard to kill, but they felt pain just like humans and that meant a good kick to the balls or a finger in an eye socket were effective techniques no matter the race of my attacker. I learned to throw knives with pinpoint accuracy and how to fight with a knife without stabbing myself, hopefully. We also trained with a variety of other weapons but our primary focus was knives. As I improved, Lochlan started sparing in only a pair of shorts to minimize my ability to grab hold of him and make my job more challenging. Not wanting to give him an advantage, I starting showing up in a sports bra and spandex shorts. I had considered myself tone before, but I had been soft in comparison to how I now looked. My new training regimen had sculpted my body to perfection. Not that I was vain, but I may have caught myself staring in the mirror a time or ten. The respectful distance Lochlan and I had maintained deteriorated piece by piece each day. A heated stare when he pinned me to the floor or an extra touch when correcting my form built itself into an inferno of s****l frustration. Soon our exchanges bordered on hostile—an onlooker would have had trouble determining if we were flirting or fighting. It’s true what they say, it’s a fine line between love and hate. That particular day Lochlan snuck in a lightning fast grab at my wrist and pulled me toward him. I immediately went limp and dropped to the ground, punching up at his unprotected junk but missing as he stealthily jumped backward. He had not released my hand so I was tugged along with him and used the momentum to swing my legs around and wipe his feet out from under him. Still not relenting his hold on me, I was flung on top of him as he went crashing to the ground on his back. Our chests heaved as we both fought for air, eyes locked in a battle of their own. Unbeckoned images of him lip-locked with the redhead assaulted me and I broke the stare, rolling off him. It had been months since that day, and I hadn’t seen him with another woman since, but that didn’t seem to erase the memory. We both lay on our backs for a moment, each to our own thoughts—we had been at it for hours and were both exhausted. “We’re done for today. You need to pack a bag, we leave for Faery in the morning.” Fatigue wore at Lochlan’s voice. “Are you going to give me any more than that?” There were only so many times I could drag information out of him before it made me stabby. “Michael’s found someone who could help, someone who is familiar with Shadow magic. Since it seems your powers are more similar to those of the Shadow Fae than Seelie, I think he should be able to teach you.” “So that’s where Michael’s been—was there a reason you hadn’t told me?” “You didn’t ask.” “Would it kill you to offer information without me having to ask?” “It might.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, it sure took him ages to find this guy.”