Maya Banks - Whispers in the Dark

 And then he became aware of her huddled, wrapping her arms around her body, her soft moans sliding through his mind. Without thought as to how to accomplish it, he simply reached out, imagined holding her to offer the comfort she so selflessly offered him.

 She went still, suddenly alert and wary. And then as if realizing who it was who held her, she relaxed.

 He was immediately assailed by the feel and smell of her. Her scent drifted through his nostrils, a sharp and welcome contrast to the odor of sweat and blood and death.

 The sensation of holding her was so keen that he closed his eyes and imagined himself in a place far away from his present reality.

 She was warm in his arms, though she still trembled from the aftereffects of taking his pain. Her hair was soft against his cheek, and he rubbed up and down, feeling the tickle of the strands against his nose.

 He inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Honeysuckle danced through his nostrils, reminding him of summers in Tennessee.

 Tell me about you. You said you were in trouble.

 She tensed and he panicked, thinking that she would withdraw. His link to her had become the single most important thing in his existence.

 Tell me anything, he hastily amended. Just talk to me. Who are you? How do you have this ability to talk to me, to take my pain and hear my thoughts?

 She laughed softly. You don’t ask for much.

 We can talk about anything. I just hate the silence.

 He felt the soft explosion of air against his neck as she sighed.

 I don’t know how or why I have the abilities I do. I’ve always had them, at least for as long as I can remember. My mother always knew I was different or so she said. She told me a story of when I was a toddler and she burned her hand cooking. She cried out and I grabbed her hand only wanting to take the pain from her.

 She said I started to cry the longer I held her hand, and when she pulled it away I had an identical burn mark on my palm. She said her pain was completely gone but we both had a blister.

 He went completely still as he grappled with what she’d just told him. Dread gathered in his gut. Are you telling me that when you take my pain from me, you actually take on the wounds as well?

 She was quiet for a moment.

 Tell me, he said fiercely.

 What do you want me to say, Nathan? Yes, I take the pain and the marks or wounds, but it isn’t permanent. They don’t last as long as yours will. They often begin to fade within a few hours.

 Son of a bitch. I don’t want you to do it anymore.

 It’s my choice.

 Why? Why, goddamn it? You don’t know me. I could be a complete asshole. Why would you do something like that for me at such a risk to yourself?

 Because you need me.

 Because he needed her. It was an explanation he couldn’t even wrap his mind around. It was so simple and yet baffling. Did anyone ever just do for someone because they needed it? It wasn’t like she was helping a hungry child, or giving money to a homeless person. She was taking on unimaginable pain. Because she didn’t think he could bear it any longer.

 You were so close to giving up. I was in your mind, Nathan. I knew what you were thinking. What you were feeling. It broke my heart. I couldn’t not help you.

 Shame slid through his chest. Guilt that he’d been so weak to even briefly contemplate giving up. Because of that weakness she’d taken far more than she ever should have. And yet, could he have survived if she hadn’t?

 He knew the answer. It ate at him that he was so dependent on this faceless woman, just a whisper in the dark. Now that the connection had been made, he’d go insane if it was broken.

 There’s no shame in needing someone, she offered softly.

 He considered her words for a moment. No, I don’t suppose there is.

 You just have to hold on until your brothers come for you. I know how you see them, that you have absolute faith in them. Hold on to that and you’ll be home soon.

 You’re a fucking miracle, Shea. I don’t know what the hell I would have done if you hadn’t spoken to me when you did.

 You would have endured.

 You have more faith in me than I have.

 I see who you are, Nathan. The heart of you. You can’t hide that from me. A weaker person would have already given up. You didn’t.

 Her words filled him with determination. Her faith humbled him. It made him want to be the man she saw, the one she believed him to be.

 You’re going to escape. I’ll be with you the whole way. We just have to wait for the right time. We can do this.

 Maybe it was the way she said it with such conviction. Or maybe it was that she said we in every instance. Like they were a team. It was a promise never to leave him and it heartened him in a way he hadn’t been able to do for himself since his captivity.

 Whether she was real or imagined, he thanked God for her. His own personal angel in hell. 

SHEA left the comfort of Nathan’s arms when the link became too much to maintain. Her body still quivered with lingering pain, but the marks on her skin were gone.

 She stumbled into the shower and ran the water as hot as she could bear it and stood under the spray, her forehead resting against the cool tile of the stall.

 What the hell was she doing? She couldn’t afford to weaken herself as she had done with Nathan. Just maintaining the link for so long was taxing enough, but the pain took it out of her when she had nothing to spare.

 What if she were found again? Would she even have the strength to run?

 But she’d made him a promise and she wouldn’t break it. She couldn’t bear the thought of him not making it back home to his family.

 The only solution for her was to keep moving. Preemptive run. If she kept constantly on the move, then she would lessen the risk of her being caught at her most vulnerable.

 She almost reached out to Grace. She bit her lip to prevent herself from saying her sister’s name. Her heart grew heavy until the ache crawled up her throat and into her jaw.

 “I miss you,” she whispered.

 Maybe it was why she’d reached out to Nathan. His desolation matched her own. They were both lonely and desperate. Perhaps she saw in Nathan someone whose situation was worse than her own and she’d been unable to turn her back even if it was what she should have done.

 When she was through with her shower, she dressed and picked up the bag she hadn’t yet unpacked. She stepped from the hotel room and shivered as the cold mountain air sliced through her T-shirt.

 She’d battled her decision to continue westward. But she’d already traveled extensively over the United States. Would her pursuers expect her to double back? She hoped not. She hoped she was making the right strategic choice. Wouldn’t it be the very last place they’d expect her to hide?

 She climbed into her car and for a moment she sat there, hands curled around the steering wheel. She was tired. So tired. Of running. Of being separated from her sister. Of worrying that nothing would ever be the same again in her life.

 At what point would it all end?

 Nagging doubt crept in and her nostrils flared in anger. She’d just given Nathan a rah-rah speech about not giving up, about not being fatalistic and about having hope. She could use a healthy dose of her own advice.

 She keyed the ignition, slammed the vehicle into gear and said good-bye to Colorado.

NATHAN awoke when the door of his cell flew open and he was blinded by white light. He flung an arm up to cover his eyes but he was hauled to his feet and dragged out.

 This time he took closer stock of his surroundings as they forced him into a chair and tied his arms behind his back. A chill pervaded the air, making the sweat on his body blow cold. It was damp and the scents of unwashed bodies, urine and blood made his nostrils flare in distaste.

 Silver flashed in front of his eyes. One of the men waved a knife as another began shouting the same questions they asked every time he was interrogated. Maybe they meant to kill him today. Or maybe they were altering their torture methods.

 Strangely, calm acceptance settled over him, and he fixed them with a cold stare.

 “Go fuck yourself.”

 Even if they didn’t fully understand the expression, they could certainly ascertain the sentiment.

 Fire exploded down his arm. He flinched and then glanced down to see a thin cut opened, blood streaming down his flesh.

 His lip curled. “Is that the best you can do? Untie me, asshole. Let’s even the odds a little.”

 This time the knife slashed across his chest in a measured cut meant to inflict pain, but not mortal damage.

 He ground his teeth together and focused on breathing in and out. He could endure this. He’d suffered far worse already.

 Then warmth crept through his body and he felt sunshine fill his mind. Instead of welcoming it, he screamed a silent no.

 Get out, Shea! Get the hell out of my head. I don’t want you here, damn it.

 Do or say nothing to further anger them, she said in the voice he’d already associated with everything good in the world.

 He felt her flinch, and it took him a moment to realize that he’d been cut again. He stared down in horror as blood trickled down his chest. But he felt nothing.

 She wrapped herself completely around him, holding him, offering her warmth and caring and all the while he could smell her blood from the wound given to him.

 Never, never had he felt more helpless as he sat there being slowly carved up by a knife that he couldn’t even feel. He couldn’t even feel her pain. She was working hard to keep it all from him.

 Tears ran freely down his cheeks, not because of what was being done to him, but because she suffered in his stead. It was more than he could bear.

 His fingers dug into the ropes binding him and he clawed relentlessly, trying to break free so he could kill the sons of bitches who were causing Shea so much pain. He’d die before he allowed her to continue hurting.

 Just be still, Nathan, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. Don’t do anything to anger them. Please. It will all be over soon. It’s only temporary for me. You know this.

 As much as he wanted to rage, he willed himself to quell the hatred and fury that burned so hotly within him. For her, he would do it because it was she who was hurting. Not him. Not him, goddamn it.

 She was slick with blood and it threatened what little control he had left over his sanity.

 Get the hell away from me, Shea. I don’t want you here. This isn’t yours to take for me.

 It nearly broke him when she raised her hand to softly touch his cheek. A simple gesture of comfort. She was comforting him when she was taking the brunt of his torture.

 Please, Shea. Don’t do this. God, don’t do this. Not for me. I can take it. They won’t break me. I’m not giving up. I swear it. Just please go. Break off.

 She merely wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body close. He hugged her back as they both endured hell.

 His focus was so great on her that he hadn’t realized they’d stopped and his hands were free until they yanked him to his feet. His knees buckled and he went down, his palms hitting the floor. Again, he was hauled to his feet and forced back to the cell. He’d never been so grateful to go back to that dark hole.

 He collapsed into the corner, and he ran his hands down his body. They came away with blood, but he ignored his wounds. His concern was for Shea. Her presence was faint now, and he had to concentrate hard to bring her back into focus.

 She was huddled in a corner weeping softly. Blood smeared her body and her mind was filled with pain.

 His eyelids burned and his heart splintered. He gathered her gently into his arms and rocked back and forth.

 Why, Shea? Why?

 Despair was a never-ending cloak of black that furled over him until he was consumed with it. This had the power to break him as nothing else. That she’d sacrificed so much for him was unfathomable.