Page 4 of The Discovered
I could hardly focus on his confusing words as unconsciousness threatened again. As my vision drifted in and out of focus, another man appeared from behind my attacker. His face was strong and angular, with steady brown eyes, and his dark hair had a slight wave to it. He swiftly locked his arms around the assailant’s neck and pulled him away from me.
As he did, my head fell back onto the sidewalk, the pain from my injuries and sudden exhaustion overwhelming me. Lying there, I listened to the sound of muffled pleading, grunting, and then quiet.
“Nice dress,” a familiar voice purred as I felt my body being lifted into the air. It was the same voice that had told me to run. “Sleep now.” Fingers brushed over my eyelids and the world went dark once again.
Chapter2
When I was a young child, my mothers told me bedtime stories about the place they came from—a place filled with magick and wonder, where the colors were brighter, the trees were taller, and the people were kinder. They said there were beaches with sand made of shimmering crystals and water clearer than translucent glass. They told me I was a gift from the Goddess herself, and it was out of unconditional love and devotion that I grew in Momma Celeste’s belly.
“You were so loved that people feared you,” Momma Jane whispered, stroking my deep copper locks of hair. “We had to take you away to keep you safe.”
“But one day,” Momma Celeste whispered as a tear escaped her eye.
“A very long time from now,” Momma Jane cut in. “When you are ready…”
“You will go back home and learn of who you are.”
I dreamt of them nearly every night. Whether it was the soft, delicate contours of their faces as they sang to me in the garden, or their frenzied panic as they chanted words in an ancient tongue, tracing shapes on my wrist where the silver band rested, when the front door to our cottage flew open and—
I awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up quickly. I shuddered as I looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a bed with unbelievably soft sheets. I quickly looked down and saw I was still in the red dress that now clung to my damp skin. The walls were grayish purple, with a white bedside table and a dimmed lamp. The bedroom was lavish yet also looked barely lived in, with very few markers of personalization. It was far bigger than my bedroom in New York.
I jumped when a tall figure appeared in the doorway, but as I shifted to get up, a searing pain in my ankle reminded me of my injury. I winced as I began to recollect all of the very strange events that took place on my twenty-second birthday.
The man who saved me—whose voice told me to run after I destroyed my source of protection—approached me cautiously, his face pensive but relaxed. He appeared to be in his late twenties, an athletic build with striking features that seemed carefully controlled.
I was able to hoist myself up to rest against the headboard, reaching an outstretched palm in the space between us. My power curled around me, like a snake poised to lash out and bite hard.
He raised a brow but stopped his approach. “I’m not going to hurt you. I think you’d know by now if that was my intention.”
“Who are you and where are we?” I cleared the hoarseness out of my voice as I assessed his every movement, from the way his fingers unclenched at his sides to his long exhale.
“My name is Daelon. We’re in Aradia—the witch realm—in a remote cabin where you will be safe. You were asleep for about a day after we made the jump, I suspect because you weren’t used to channeling that kind of power.”
“The witch realm,” I repeated dumbly. So it was all true. All of those stories my mothers told of the land from which they’d escaped came flooding back to me. They were fragmented into bits and pieces, scattered by the trauma of their deaths and time long passed. I was only a child then, and after so many years living a relatively normal human existence, they felt more like a mélange of dreams and mythic bedtime tales than reality.
Not to mention, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with the realm my mothers’ murderers came from. Or the power I’d held inside me that led them to us.
It had all been my fault.
The deep, dark wound opened up and festered, and like a great tide, my power began to flood. The lamp beside us shook, and heavy rain began to pour and batter against the windows.
Daelon watched me carefully. “Breathe,” he said. “Give me a deep breath in and out.”
His tone was commanding enough to earn my narrowed gaze. I still had no idea who he was or what he wanted, and as I reached out to his energy, I realized there was nothing to feel. His aura was like a solid brick wall of impenetrability. In my moment of distraction, the furniture settled and stilled.
“Why can’t I—feel you?” I stuttered.
He raised his brows again, an amused grin taking shape. “Maybe buy me dinner first,” he said.
I crossed my arms. “Your energy. Aura. Soul. Whatever you want to call it.”
“You’re an energy reader,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question. “Interesting.”
“Well?”
“That’s your gift, and mine is that I’m a shield. I can mask energy, power, and spells, and I’m more in tune with defensive magick. That’s why you’re safe here. Witches like the one who attacked you, energy vampires, will be drawn to the enormity of your power like moths to a flame. And your flame burns much, much brighter than most.”
I mulled over his words, looking through the windows to the rainy forest landscape below. Not being able to read him was going to be a problem. It was like losing one of my senses, leaving me vulnerable and shrouded in darkness.
