Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,121

But these last few transports had taken eons comparatively speaking. The magic they had to meld through in order to safely carry their passengers from point A to point B was immense. And the spell had been changed drastically to allow the easy transport of more than one person.

That was something that didn’t used to happen too. Transport spells used to be single-use only. Two people if the caster was extremely powerful and practiced. But now? They were carrying small armies here and there.

No wonder they were taking so long.

Wonder…

Annaleia stared up at Ares’ profile from where he still held her in his arms, refusing to let her down. And she actually did wonder. She took in the strong line of his jaw, the rakish stubble, the curl of his black hair against the collar of his jacket. She rested her cheek against his chest and inhaled the scent of leather and motorcycles and darkness. She saw his dark eyes spellbinding and already glowing and focused on the portal’s edge. She listened to the absolute silence amongst the powerful men around her, punctuated only by the crackling energy of the transport tunnel.

And she knew. She knew there was something Ares wasn’t telling her.

She turned her head and angled it so she could get a better look at her sentinel where he stood beside Ares. She caught him in profile too. His attention also seemed to be focused on what lay ahead.

What is it? she thought, returning her attention to Ares.

But then she noticed something. She’d gotten to know him so well while they were in school together. It had been long ago, another lifetime. But some memories never seemed to fade. And this was one of them.

There was a certain look Antares got sometimes, when he was filled with a kind of insecurity or hesitation. It was the opposite of confidence, which was why she took note of it. Confident was the face he normally wore. So it really stood out to her when he was uncertain. She’d caught it here and there, such as the time he’d given her a gift for no reason. It wasn’t her birthday or a holiday. He’d just wanted to get her something.

Those were the only kinds of gifts Annaleia really liked. To her, they were the spur-of-the-moment signs of affection that meant someone was truly thinking about you. Whereas, receiving a present on specific day such as a birthday or anniversary or Christmas meant people were thinking about a date, not about you.

Ironically, it was that gift that had led to the single scar on Anna’s body that she would not want to lose if she had the chance to rid herself of them all. That one, she’d sustained falling off a skateboard. Ares had been so overwhelmed with guilt, berating himself for giving her the board, vehemently regretting the decision as he patched her up. But that first board was the start of something for Annaleia. She’d been given a decidedly unacceptable gift for a young lady in the late sixties and that alone made her love it more than anything she’d ever been given. The fact that it came from Ares was gravy. And after that fall, she’d stubbornly ignored his pleas, and she’d gotten right back on again.

She’d learned to ride pretty much everything from then on out, including waves.

But the whole day before he’d given her the board – wrapped up in purple wrapping paper with a gorgeous satin lavender bow – he’d behaved differently. She could tell he was trying hard to hide it, but she’d always been able to read him.

She remembered how he’d moved his hands pretty much non-stop. She remembered his half-hearted attempt at aloofness. She recalled the distracted manner in which he would clench his jaw and run his hand through his hair or simply shove both hands into his pockets and start pacing. Most of all, she remembered how focused he became.

His gaze would slide to nothing in particular and he would grow quiet, as if he were mulling over every single possible outcome to something and planning out how he would deal with each one.

Ares had that focus again now as he stared at the end of the portal. And it hit her. He was uncertain. He didn’t know what was waiting for them at the transport’s end any more than she did.

That was the thing he wasn’t telling her. He wasn’t telling her that there was something unknown, something potentially dangerous