Ascension (Guardians of Ascension #1)(72)
Author: Caris Roane

“Good” was all he said, the word brusque, clipped, cruel.

Alison’s throat ached from holding back a flood of tears. Her ears pounded with each quick powerful beat of her heart.

She didn’t even have time to think as he charged again.

And again.

And again until each breath she took wheezed in and out of her lungs like an air compressor heading south.

He finally stopped in front of her. Sweat poured from his body, his green eyes pinched, determined. His fangs had emerged. “Good,” again, was all he said.

He put both his hands on her arms. She had thought he meant to comfort her. Instead she felt healing warmth invade her muscles. So I can continue learning how to fight.

“I’m not a warrior,” she whispered. Tears tracked down her cheeks. He ignored her pleas. He gave her Gatorade, fed her carb bars. He still would not speak to her.

When she reached out to his mind, wanting to help him feel what she was going through, red streams of rage flowed back at her.

She drew in a quick breath and pulled back, shocked. He seemed so in control. Instead his emotions were off the charts, his anger condensed into hard filaments that pulsed crimson. He was simply too angry to speak, certainly not in a frame of mind to either console or explain. It eased her to know how much he despised what he had to do.

He repeated the process of attack until she simply dropped to her knees gasping for air. Sweat now trailed off her face and splashed onto the tile. Her T-shirt stuck to her ribs. She couldn’t remember sweating this much, not even in the gym.

Of all the ways she had imagined the evening progressing, playing attack-the-ascendiate was not one of them. If anything, she had hoped … against hope, it would seem … he would have taken her to bed. Instead he started Warrior Training 101. Great.

“Can you tell me now why you were ordered to do this?” she cried between deep inhales and exhales.

“Doesn’t matter,” he responded.

“The hell it doesn’t. This is my life. Talk to me.” She struggled to her feet and moved to the island. He wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Maybe so you can protect yourself. I don’t know. Drink. Eat.” He thrust Gatorade into her hand again, his voice as hard as flint. “We’re done with the first part.” He folded a box into his hands. “I’ve got your sword. You’ll need to create the identification. Just take the handle and hold on. Whatever you do, don’t let go.” He thrust the box toward her, the polished steel glinting in the light.

“Fuck you,” she cried.

Only then did he meet her gaze. His green eyes calmed down, but a deep sorrow shuttered over his irises, so deep Alison gasped. Oh, shit. She saw her death in his eyes. He believed she would die, that she would not make it through. So basically, she got one day of ascended life? One day?

She didn’t take the box. She turned away from him and chewed on what now tasted like sawdust instead of a bar of sticky-sweet granola. She swallowed, but it was hard pushing food past the lump in her throat. “I’m not doing very well, am I?”

Silence returned.

She put her hand on her forehead and let the tears fall again. She heard the box drop onto the island. She felt his hands on her arms. “You’re doing just fine. The problem is time, not your skills. You’ve got some of the finest instincts and reactions I’ve seen in decades. Endelle didn’t tell Thorne the why of it, but it can’t be good and I have only hours to train you, not months. I don’t mean to be a bastard. However, this is my job, and I feel way too much for you to do anything but keep my distance. And … I’m just a little pissed off about it.”

“Yes, I know.” She wiped at her face. “And there’s nothing I can do to change the order?”

“No. Not a damn thing.”

When she looked up at him, a deep frown furrowed his brow. “What is it?” she asked.

“Training this way just isn’t going to cut it and you have one huge advantage over other ascendiates. You match me in power, which means I want to try something with you, something that might just work.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I can train you with my mind.”

He moved to stand directly in front of her and took her face in his hands. His green eyes beckoned, an intense expression as he stared at her.

How strong is your mind? he asked, his words a powerful question within her head. He narrowed his eyes. She felt pressure now, deep within her mind, a familiar frightening sensation.

She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her.

Answer me.

I’m afraid to, she responded, blinking. Her heart constricted. What he was doing reminded her of the experience at the medical complex when he’d taken her memories. She wanted to tear herself away from him, to fight him, or better yet, to run away.

Listen to me, he sent firmly. I have one goal here, to get you through this. You have no idea what you’re up against. I do. And there’s only one way to get this job done. It will hurt at first, this kind of mental joining, but if you let go, flow with it, you’ll be okay.

I’m scared. Understatement.

He searched her eyes. You fear losing control. I get that. You’ve lived as I’ve lived, independent, taking care of business all by yourself, isolated. You had control. Right now, however, you’re going to have to let go and frankly, I don’t give a damn what you want. This is the only way. His expression softened and he smiled, a small crooked curve off to the side of his mouth. Do you trust me?

Dammit, he was so not playing fair because there was only one answer. “Yes,” she muttered aloud, her jaw bobbing in his hands.

His smile broadened. He leaned forward and kissed her firmly on the lips. He nodded. Then trust me now and try to relax.

Once more, she nodded in his hands.

Good. Ready?

She took a deep breath. Yes.

Suddenly his thoughts penetrated her swiftly and it hurt, like the hard bite of a wasp sting. He sent sensory images, one after the other rapid-fire, of several of his most recent battles.

Alison wanted to scream. The images afflicted her as though a series of knives whipped through her head.

Let go came as a sharp command between frames.

But she held on tight and the knives sliced her up worse than ever, worse than when he’d tried to strip her memories.

Dammit, Alison, don’t be stubborn. Let go!

Alison had no choice or she would pass out. She relaxed her mind and in a split second the pain slid away like water in a dam released in a rush. Thank you, God!