Chapter 6
Aimee
“Fucking focus already, Aimee!”
Killian’s annoyed voice floats from the other end of the training hall, where he stands, posture tense and rigid, arms crossed, and a deep frown etched into his beautiful, stupid face.
“I am focusing, you despotic vampire,” I huff in frustration.
It’s been a few days since that disastrous night.
My shadows returned at the crack of dawn, sated and completely shameless for the unhinged display of rapture.
I had a lingering thought of chastising them for the humiliation, but as I am quickly learning, they have a mind of their own when it comes to Killian and his crimson double.
My plan was to hide in my room and sleep the embarrassment away, but that idea went up in flames soon too, when Killian knocked on my door a few hours later, announcing stone-faced that I have five minutes to get dressed for shadow travel training.
At least he came himself and didn’t send Nella to fetch me like the previous time.
He’s been training me in person for the last couple of days, basically working me into the ground, but nothing is fucking happening. No matter how hard I focus, and no matter how much I try to follow his instructions, I just can’t make it work.
“It doesn’t seem to me that you are. You can’t even contain your shadows to stop frolicking with mine,” he says, pointing with a smirk at the wall behind me.
I glance over my shoulder, and of course there she is, my shadow double, grinding like a cat in heat against Shadow Killian.
They are both so engrossed in each other—in their own sinful bubble—as if the outside world doesn’t exist. As if we don’t exist.
“It’s not like you can restrain yours any better, Killian. Look at your double all over mine. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are even enjoying this.”
That wipes his irksome smirk off his face for good.
“Less talk, more work, Aimee,” he says with a disgruntled tone. “We don’t have all the time in the world.”
I bite back the retort that’s barely hanging on the tip of my tongue and close my eyes, trying to see the room through my mind’s eye, just like Killian instructed.
He said I should start small, with a place I know well, a place I’ve been spending a lot of time in. We agreed to keep it simple, to just the other side of the training hall, where he’s currently standing.
To envision my destination and call forth my shadows, channeling them as a conduit of sorts.
I focus on the corner of the room, seeing it take shape behind my closed eyelids.
The dark mats covering the floor, soft enough to protect from injury, but firm and providing a good grip to outmaneuver your attacker.
Wooden benches stand by the far wall, where I was sitting with Blaise at the beginning of my training just a few months ago, catching my breath and wondering if I would ever survive an onpyr attack.
The gray walls adorned with all sorts of dangerous weaponry.
I also envision Killian, with his unnerving onyx eyes fixed on me and his midnight strands tousled by repeatedly dragging his hands through his hair as he barks orders at me.
His gravel like voice still brings my blood to a boiling point, and I would love nothing more than to blink myself into existence next to him and punch him square in his face.
Or kiss him stupid.
Maybe both.
I focus on my shadows, calling them out in my mind. He said the transition should feel like a dark, velvety tingle up my spine, and I pour all my awareness into one singular point, chasing that telltale sign of an impending shadow walk.
Nothing happens yet again.
“Godsdammit! We’re running around in circles, Killian. Are you sure you’re not omitting a step?”
“I’m sure, menace,” he answers, annoyed. “You’re not trying hard enough.”
“Bullshit. It’s your double’s fault for keeping my shadows preoccupied with his stupid cock.”
Killian’s derisive laughter fills the training hall before he summons his crimson shadows and disappears in a bloody mist.
“Then why can I do it, umbra?”
His whisper caresses my earlobe, and his day-old stubble brushes against the side of my neck. A shiver runs down my entire body, and I take a step forward to put distance between us, while whirling around to face him.
“Not fair. You’ve been practicing for eons,” I say as I try to catch my breath. I hate that his proximity still has this effect on me. He doesn’t deserve the reactions he pulls from my traitorous body or my confused heart.
No.
He repeatedly treated me like dirt, and as such, I should be able to harden myself to his cunning presence.
I blame this muddled feeling on my idiotic shadows, still acting like horny teenagers in the corner.
“This is clearly going nowhere,” he sighs. “Maybe we should take a more hands-on approach.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand raises tentatively, bridging the space between us.
“May I touch you?”
No, he may fucking not.
“If you must,” I answer through gritted teeth.
He moves with fluid caution, his fingers barely grazing the sides of my arms. His touch burns, and I stand still, caught between an endless battle. I want both to recoil and to let the flames engulf me. Would it be so bad to let this fire consume me?
“Close your eyes, umbra. Think of a happy place. Somewhere you felt safe. Content.”
I follow his gentle guidance and envision the last place and time I felt such bliss.
A wave of velutinous tingles, like the reverent touch of a long-lost lover, embraces my senses, and before I know it, my body disintegrates in a swirl of black shadows.
For a mere instant, I’m completely free, unencumbered by flesh or thought.
Then it all comes to a halt, and when I open my eyes, I’m in Killian’s bedroom.
The dark chamber is just as I remember it, draped in shadows and decadence. Killian’s fingers still graze my arms, and his wide-eyed stare is softer than I have seen it in weeks.
I pull out of his arms immediately and point an accusing finger at his chest.
“Why did you bring us here?”
“I didn’t,” comes his subdued murmur. “You did, little umbra. It seems this is your happy place.”
The intensity behind his dark gaze makes goosebumps erupt on my flesh. I wish I could refute his statement, call him out for his blatant lie.
But he’s not telling lies.
He never did.
No. Between the two of us, he’s always been the one standing in the light of his truth. Wearing his battered heart on his sleeve.
“I–”
I avert my eyes, not in shame, but in bashfulness.
This is indeed my last happy place. My only one, if I’m being truthful to myself. Those handfuls of stolen moments in this very chamber peruse in the back of my mind, and by the disheartened look on his face, he’s having the same memories wreak havoc in his.
“Little umbra,” he breathes, and I can’t take the softness, the brokenness behind that nickname.
“No.”
The word escapes my lips in a sob, and before I can think better of it, I turn around and run through the open doors.
It seems all I do in this cursed life is run away.
From my past.
From my family.
From the pain and abuse.
And now from him and the heartache of those lost moments of happiness.
I barricade myself in my room, looking for any flimsy sense of emotional safety, knowing that if he wanted, he could come barreling through those damn doors and through my wobbly defenses.
But he never comes.
And it’s better that way.
A knock pulls me out of my slumber, and I blink the haziness away, just as the first tendrils of daylight creep through the floor to ceiling windows.
Ugh, who in their right mind would come knocking at this hour? I throw my arms over my eyes, groaning. Maybe if I ignore whoever it is, they will leave me be.
“Umbra, get up.” Killian’s voice comes from the other side of the door, as the knocking becomes more insistent.
Of course, it’s him!
“Go away,” I call out, covering my face with the pillow.
I have no desire to see him, not after last night. And certainly not at the crack of dawn.
“Stop acting like a petulant child; it does not become you.”
His voice is no longer muffled by the door, and I peek from under my pillow to find him standing above me, clad in his signature black leather pants and billowing, half-unbuttoned shirt.
“Go away, Killian,” I repeat, refusing to move an inch.
“Don’t make me drag you out of this bed and carry you on my shoulder to the training hall,” he says, pulling the covers completely off me.
The chilly morning air hardens my nipples into two unmissable nubs, and I realize a little too late I went to bed in a flimsy satin nightgown that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I sputter on instinct.
His gaze darkens, burning my skin as he takes me in.
“I don’t make threats I don’t plan to follow through on, Aimee. You should know that about me by now.”
He takes two steps closer to the bed, and his looming presence puts my body on high alert.
I jump to my feet, trying to put as much needed distance between us as I can achieve, but he’s not having it.
He crowds my personal space, and something electric, like static before a storm, crackles in the air between us.
My shadows slither up and down my arms and legs, desperate to reach his.
“Will you back off already, you brute?” I say in agitation.
“No,” comes his simple answer. “You want to run away? Go ahead. Shadow walk yourself out of my presence.”
He’s trying to rile me up so I can use my powers to escape him.
Smart, but it’s not working.
I try to replicate the same reaction as yesterday, to focus on a good place and get the hell out of this corner he put me in, but I’m rooted to the spot.
“I can’t,” I admit, frustration bubbling up inside my veins.
“You can’t or you won’t?” he asks, smirking, as he takes one last step.
My body is flush against his, my nipples grazing the hard planes of his chest. I despise the thrilling sensations he’s awakening yet again.
His rough hands grip my hips, pinning me in place, and his next words are just a whisper against my throat.
“You seemed perfectly capable last night, little umbra. Both to shadow travel and to run away. Why not combine both? Or is it just with your legs that you have a tendency to escape me, mmm?”
I surprise us both by slapping him, and the moment my hand connects with his rugged jaw, we explode in a fury of sable and crimson intertwined shadows that transport us back to his chamber.
The moment I feel solid ground under my feet, I stumble back a step.
Not this again. Why do I keep bringing us here? Am I so deranged that I can’t let go of that beautiful illusion of us? It has shattered already into a million tiny fragments, and no amount of wishful thinking could weave it back together.
“See, perfectly capable,” Killian deadpans while rubbing a hand against the spot I just slapped. His narrowed stare burrows itself under my skin, cleaving into my body forcefully until every nerve ending catches fire.
“I don’t know how I’m doing it.” I shake my head, trying to dispel this overwhelming, lingering attraction that still clings to me like a nasty rash that won’t subside no matter what I do.
“Try again,” he says, and I do, disappointment washing over me when I’m stuck in my flesh once more.
“It’s no use, Killian. You’re the worst teacher ever.”
“Try. Again.” His commanding tone is meant to get people to submit to him, but I do not cower.
Never again.
Not for anybody.
Not even him.
“Not. Happening. Asshole.” I snap, throwing my hands in the air. “I don’t know what triggered it. Both times you were touching me, and I just—“
Understanding washes over his features, and he grabs my wrists before I can react.
“Could it be?” he whispers in awe as the tingles envelop me again, and we dissipate in a swirl of shadows.
The transition lasts longer this time, and when we emerge into existence again, I’m hit by a suffocating wave of heat I’ve never experienced before as a blinding sun makes spots swim in my vision.
All around us, scorching sands shift in the tropical, humid winds.
“What in the blasted hell is this? Where the fuck are we, Killian?”
“Reweroth,” is his only response.
I squint my eyes against the incandescent light, and sure enough, a sprawling desert city unfolds before us, a gleaming palace standing proudly in the distance.
Fuck me.
Did we just shadow travel to the human kingdom while I’m still barely covered by my translucent sleepwear?