Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,56

any other Withered to date, she’d brought something back with her, the ability to raise the dead. It was an invaluable and terrifying power. Every time she brought someone back, a new wound opened up somewhere on her body, then instantly healed into another scar. As a result, she was covered in them, inside and out.

But that honestly wasn’t the terrifying part. It was having to decide who would come back and who wouldn’t. It was a responsibility that sometimes felt more like a curse.

Tonight when he’d propositioned her, Anna hadn’t given Jarrod an answer. The only thing she’d managed was to suggest to him that he might not like the number of scars she had now. She hated to admit it, but there was a part of her that actually cared. Maybe he wouldn’t find her attractive any longer.

But as if he’d known her thoughts and fears, he’d given her a smile that made his eyes grow warm. “Why not let me be the judge of that, little heart?”

Incubi can see your soul, she reminded herself now. Maybe Sterling didn’t care about the scars at all and instead saw the lives she’d saved in earning them? Maybe he was even amused at the fact that she did care.

In any case, she hadn’t been willing to go through with it. Not yet, anyway. So he’d told her he would remain in Austin until she decided, and they had parted ways for the night.

The scent of damp caught Anna’s attention again, and this time when she stopped, she looked up at the dark above. There were no stars, and the air was heavy. Quiet was beginning to crawl out onto Sixth street, fingers of sneaky silence that absorbed life and stilled its echoes. It was definitely going to snow.

Again, she thought of Antares – and that snow storm fifty years ago.

She continued walking again. But with each step she took, her smile slipped a little more.

The strange thing was… this time when she conjured up the memory of that night with Ares, she could remember everything like it was last night except… his face. She remembered the way he touched her, as if he’d been practicing for a thousand years. As if he knew her body like he’d created it himself. She remembered the way he smelled, like leather – damn she loved that smell – and aftershave and him. She could feel the incredible heat of him, the incredible size of him, the incredible strength of him. And she could see the curve of his broad as hell shoulder, his trim and tight waist, that V that slipped under his the belt of his pants when he pulled his shirt over his head.

Fuck.

Her head was filled with him – and yet, she just couldn’t quite picture his beautiful face. Not the way she normally could. It was less distinct this time, as if she were trying to focus on him in a dream. She not only saw the fuzziness in her head, she felt it. Like a wall she couldn’t breach.

Had that ever happened before? She didn’t think so. Maybe she was more tired than she was letting on when she’d been talking with Carmen.

Or maybe it’s finally been too long.

She was lost in a sudden disturbing sensation of loss when she was suddenly enveloped. A scream rose in her throat, only to be smothered abruptly by the strength of the hand over her mouth. In the wake of her aborted cry, Annaleia bucked in her captor’s sudden, fast grip. His arms had trapped her own to her sides, making them useless. Her mind and body went into overdrive as the enemy moved with impossible speed and stealth, taking her into the nearest alley.

His timing was perfect. She’d been distracted, this part of the street was suddenly deserted – when had that happened? – and he seemed to anticipate every defensive move she could think of, rendering it useless before she could execute it.

With her mouth covered, she couldn’t even attempt a transport spell, which was one of the first things every warden clan taught its new recruits. Her knees came up to drop her into a dead weight, but it was as if she weighed absolutely nothing in his grasp. She retaliated by slamming her boots into the pavement and using the leverage to simultaneously slam the back of her head into the front of his. But he’d prepared for it, moving his head to the side and lifting