Burning Skies (Guardians of Ascension #2)(16)
Author: Caris Roane

“You mean deep mind-engagement?”

“Yes,” Medichi said. “Moving within another person’s mind.”

“I attempted it once with unhappy results.” She thought of Eric. She had once dived inside his head, a really careless maneuver, and he’d doubled over in pain. The poor man had been left with a terrible headache for three days. That a power of hers had caused him so much suffering had crushed her to no end. This was one of the major differences between Militia Warriors and Warriors of the Blood: Most Militia Warriors lacked advanced powers. Havily shifted her gaze to Luken then back to Medichi. She was struck all over again by the sheer size of these men, the Warriors of the Blood. All of them had exceptional preternatural abilities, which, coupled with their physical strength, allowed each warrior to battle a number of death vampires at any given time. They were Second Earth’s elite fighting unit. There were a total of only seven known warriors of this stature in the world, eight including Marcus.

“I knew it,” Medichi cried. “You’re untapped. I’ve been thinking it for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have major powers that haven’t emerged yet. It sure as hell would explain what happened four months ago.”

She wished more than anything that he hadn’t brought the subject up. She felt the blush begin and was completely incapable of stopping it. He referred, of course, to Warrior Marcus and what all the warriors knew to be the onset of the breh-hedden between them.

What they couldn’t know was that in some inexplicable way, she had just had sex with Marcus this very morning.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No. No, of course not. It’s just that … I’ve had visions of him, as well.” Once again she was overwhelmed with the probability that they weren’t visions but actual experiences.

Oh. God.

Which would mean, of course, that she’d been having sex with him for four months now!

Oh, dear God.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed all those unsettling thoughts out of her head. When she opened her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and turned to Medichi. She took a deep breath, “If the link involves mind-engagement, I think I’d be fine.”

Medichi frowned slightly. “I want to assure you, Hav, that this is a fairly superficial level of mind-engagement. Nothing deep. One level below telepathy. I won’t be able to see your memories or anything like that, which can occur with deeper levels of mind-diving.”

For a brief moment she felt really uncomfortable with the arrangement. She couldn’t explain why, exactly, but the thought of allowing this kind of link with Medichi felt as though she was being unfaithful to Marcus. Which was utterly and completely ridiculous. So ridiculous in fact that she nodded in a swift dip of her chin and said, “Let’s do it. You’ve convinced me. What do you need me to do?”

Medichi moved to stand in front of her then put his hand on her forehead. “Just relax.”

It wasn’t easy to be close to so much lean muscled warrior. Medichi was the tallest of the brothers and very handsome in his Italian way. He had high strong cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and long straight black hair. She forced her shoulders to settle down and worked to unknot her stomach. Finally she gave up and closed her eyes.

“You’re doing fine.”

At first his hand just felt warm, but a moment later she felt his mind slide against hers then dip inside. A tingling followed, along with something that felt like a solid clamp on her brain, which made her smile.

Do you feel that? he sent.

She opened her eyes. She grinned. “It’s the oddest sensation.”

He nodded. “I’m going to fold to the Cave then reach out to you, as a test. That will put a dimension between us. We’ll see how well this works.”

“Okay. Good. Do it.”

He smiled at her first. “You know, that’s what I like best about you. You’re so game.” He lifted his hand and was gone.

She shifted her gaze to Luken. “It really is weird.” She tilted her head sideways. “It’s like that feeling when you’ve gone swimming and water ends up in your ears and won’t come out. I want to shake my head.”

Luken just looked at her, his expression warm, affectionate.

Havily. You there?

She heard Medichi as plain as day. “Yes,” she said aloud, then laughed at her stupidity. I mean, yes, she sent mind-to-mind. I said it aloud as soon as I heard you … in my head, I mean.

Yep, you’ve got powers. And I’m not hurting you?

Not even a little.

A moment later he materialized in front of her, smiling.

“How do I call you?” she asked. “I mean how did you reach out to me? Does this mean you can hear my thoughts?”

“Only if you direct them at me. It’s a link. I’m not in your head. It’s telepathic. Think of it as long-distance telepathy.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. All I know is that I’d hate to subject you to the ongoing chaos of my thoughts. Sometimes it’s like a lettuce spinner in there.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. The link is nothing like that.” He grew sober for a moment, his expression inscrutable. He then cleared his throat. He glanced at Luken. Havily’s gaze followed. The warrior’s eyes were closed.

“He must be exhausted,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Medichi said, his voice low as well. “I guess I’d better hunt down my bed. I’ll be battling by eight.” He turned to her. “I’m always here for you, Hav, you know that, right?”

She nodded. “You’re the best, Antony.”

* * *

Eldon Crace, High Administrator of Chicago Two, minion to his deity, Commander Darian Greaves, had muscles on his muscles now. Oh … yeah.

And, shit yes, sweat poured off him in streams, but not because of fear like it used to. Now he sweat because he pumped iron several hours a day and because he’d built himself a goddamn righteous forge, the old-fashioned kind, deep in the heart of Greaves’s compound. He never wore a shirt, just a black leather kilt and warrior battle sandals.

Decades ago, before his ascension to Second Earth, he had worked for a smithy in rural Indiana. He had always enjoyed the nature of the work, taking metal, heating it up until it glowed red, then pounding it into whatever shape he wanted. The metaphor pleased him immensely.

Horseshoes then.

Manacles now.