Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)(22)

It was time.





Chapter Nine The atmosphere of Hope’s house calmed and settled after her father left. She’d truthfully told him over a year ago that she could no longer create dreamworlds, and his relief had been palpable. However, she hadn’t shared her thoughts about why.


It had to be Paxton. She’d only been able to form the worlds when Paxton was near her. Now she was older and stronger, so hopefully he didn’t have to be in the same room with her, just nearby. There was only one way to find out.

She went to her bedroom to ditch her clothes and change into yoga gear. Her mind was spinning and dull at the same time, and she was so tired she could barely think. But she had to figure this out. She had known Paxton her entire life, and he wasn’t a traitor. The mere fact that her father had let him go today showed that Zane hadn’t condemned him completely either. Oh, they didn’t know what he was up to, and it didn’t look good, but Hope had to have some faith.

Her arm hurt, and she cradled it against her rib cage, willing healing cells to go to the fracture, yet nothing happened. She didn’t feel any different. She couldn’t even feel those cells. What if she were human, and what if she actually could die? She honestly hadn’t considered that to be a possibility until very recently. She knew she couldn’t heal herself as others did, and she sometimes caught human illnesses, but she’d never imagined she could actually die. What if one of those bullets today had hit her in the heart or the head?

Would her chromosomal pairs save her? Was she just like an enhanced human? Skilled somehow but still susceptible to death?

She shuddered and moved closer to the wide bank of windows that faced the lake. Snow drifted down lazily, covering her deck, and she shivered and pulled out her meditation pillow to sit. She eyed her bed, which looked so warm and inviting, but it was not to be. She had something to do, so she dropped into place and tried to clear her mind.

Calmness took much longer to reach than usual.

Finally, she found herself walking along the rocky, uneven ground next to a lazily rolling river. The sun was high in a blue sky, and it warmed her face. She looked down to note that her arm was still broken. She blinked, wondering if she could fix it in the dreamworld. Nothing happened. In fact, it hurt even worse.

She wandered for a while, picking her way along the grassy bank, trying to let the imaginary sun warm her. Across the river was an outcropping of rocks, and on a ledge sat her book, the green book she’d been trying to read her entire life. She thought about crossing the river, but it looked cold.

Besides, anytime she’d gotten near the book, it had somehow disappeared on her. She figured she’d be able to read it when she turned twenty-five, which for some reason seemed to be a magical year for her people. It was the year her mother and father had mated, and it would probably be the year she chose a mate as well. She was months away from that, so she didn’t bother getting her feet wet trying to reach the elusive book.

She looked around at the tall trees. They were pine and some spruce with maybe a tamarack thrown in. Across the river were birch. Sometimes, her dreamworlds held fantastical trees and a colorful ocean, but this time she’d decided to go with realism.

A small sandy embankment spread out into the river, and she walked down it, feeling the rocks beneath her bare toes. She probably should have worn shoes, but who cared? There she took a seat and waited, concentrating on Drake. The minute she thought of his name, he appeared across the river, his eyebrows up.

“Oh,” she said. Huh. That had never happened before. Usually people were right where she put them.

He lifted his shoulder and strode easily across what appeared to be shallow water. He wore the black uniform of the Kurjan soldiers. In the last year, he’d grown even more. He had to be about six foot seven or maybe even eight. His skin was still pale, and his eyes were still green with a purple rim, but his black hair had grown out to his shoulders.

“At least you didn’t drop me in the river,” he said, approaching slowly, his gaze piercing.

She stood and dusted pebbles off her butt. She knew enough about the Kurjans’ ranks to see that he was now the leader of the nation, according to the many silver medallions on his left breast. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His lips twitched, and he looked around. “Just us here tonight?”

“Looks like it,” she said. She could bring in Paxton or Libby, and maybe Drake’s cousin Vero, but she chose not to involve anybody else.

He reached out and clasped her good hand. “It’s been a rough year without you.”

She nodded. “I know. For some reason I can’t create the dreamworld unless Paxton is near.”

Drake took a step back. His face was chiseled and sharp, his body tall and lean. He was definitely muscled and strong, as she had always known he would be. “Paxton Phoenix is here?”

“Well, not here,” she murmured. It was so odd to be seeing Drake again.

“Why is your arm in a sling?” Puzzlement wrinkled his brow.

She watched him closely. “We were attacked by two squads of Kurjans in Nuremberg earlier today. Were they after me, or were they after Paxton?” She’d been mulling the situation over and hadn’t reached a conclusion. “In addition to a bullet, I took darts filled with ingredients we don’t recognize. How about you tell me what you’re up to?”