Chapter Six
Lia
Leo had to practically peel me off the mattress this morning. I argued, bargained, and I’m pretty sure I threatened him with a lamp.
Apparently, Kylo is the only person “qualified” to train me. I’d rather gouge my eyeballs out with toothpicks than spend another hour locked in a room with him.
Yesterday, when his temper flared, I didn’t see a trainer. I saw Joaquin. I saw every man who ever used his rage as a prelude to a bruise.
Carter offers hospitality, but all I see are bars. He and Leo trade orders over my head like I’m a piece of artillery they’re trying to calibrate, expecting me to march to Kylo’s drum without question.
They’re convinced I’m a siphon and an empath.
I wanted to tell them they were wrong. But the sickness I’ve been carrying for weeks—the dizziness, the nausea—it all vanished when I threw Kylo. Like something in me had finally cracked open.
Why, after two decades, am I suddenly showing signs of having abilities?
“Have you noticed any emotions that don’t belong to you since yesterday?” Carter asks, slathering a thick layer of cream cheese onto a bagel.
“Nothing.” I slump until my chin nearly hits the table.
“Maybe it’s because we’re shielders.” Leo stands by the counter, sipping water. “Are you still feeling ill?”
“The nausea stopped yesterday.”
“That’s good news.” Carter swallows a mouthful of bagel and checks his watch. “We’ll see how you do with Kylo today.”
“Sure. Put me with the man who treats my existence like a personal vendetta.”
Carter snorts, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing. Only time will tell.” He taps his watch. “Time for training, Lia. Don’t keep the beast waiting.”
“Enjoy your meditation,” I say, my voice dripping with enough sarcasm to coat the kitchen floor. He grabs a yoga mat and a bottle of alkaline water, looking like he’s headed to a spa retreat.
Meanwhile, I’m fastening my wrist wraps and checking for bruises.
“Let me know if you feel any different today, yeah?” Leo asks, his expression softening into that annoying brotherly concern.
“I will.” I snatch my black combat gloves off the counter and tug them on.
Might as well be prepping for a cage match instead of a lesson.
I make my way to the training room. When I open the door, everything is already charged, pulsing like moments before a lightning strike.
Kylo stands in the center, as still as a statue and twice as cold.
He stares at me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. “You’re late. By one minute.”
My shoulders lift in a lazy shrug. “Is that a crime?”
“It’s a lack of discipline.” His eyes track my every move as I step onto the mat. “You don’t give a damn about this training. It shows in your feet. It shows in your attitude.”
“I do—”
“No breaks today. This is the real thing, sweetheart. Try to keep up.”
Sweetheart? Who does he think he is?
“I’m the man who’s going to teach you how to survive.” He closes the distance. “I’m the reason you won’t end up as a corpse when we face the Aether Hunters.”
My fingers find the strap at my wrist, peeling it back and pressing it down again as I search for some semblance of control.
Kylo’s anger stirs a little fiery hummingbird in my stomach, flitting wildly, heat pulsing with every beat of its wings.
He looms over me. “Can you sense my emotions?”
I tip my chin up, meeting his stare. “You feel like anger with nowhere to go.”
“I’ve seen and done a lot of shit. A world this dark takes a toll. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Leo’s been shielding you from the uglier parts of reality.”
His words carve through me like an axe splitting heartwood.
He doesn’t know a damn thing about me.
“Is that so?” He steps into my personal space, so close I’m flooded with the scent of rain-soaked moss. I should move, I should push him back, but my shoes feel like they’ve grown roots.
“Get out of my head.”
He leans in, his breath grazing my ear. “Block me out then.”
I grind my teeth until my jaw aches. “How?”
“Are you waiting for someone to do it for you? Try.”
I suck in a frazzled breath, craving space. Kylo watches me, carefully, knowingly, as I take a few steps back. “What’s first?”
“We’re going to fight. I’ll use my telekinesis.”
I remember the sound of my back hitting the wall last time—the way the air tore from my lungs in a single, agonizing burst. I don’t want a repeat. I definitely don’t want him close enough to touch me.
His fist whistles past my ear. I drop low and sweep my leg in a wide arc, catching his ankle.
For a split second, he’s airborne.
He slams into the mat, but he’s already moving as I scramble back. His fingers lock around my wrist, ripping my feet out from under me.
He drives me to the mat, a crushing pressure forcing my arms above my head. I lunge upward, trying to buck him off. He’s a slab of granite, pinning me in place. I gasp, lungs refusing to fill, my strength reduced to a joke beneath him.
“Get off.” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“You want me off? Do it yourself.”
Rolling to the side, my palms slap against the floor as my feet scramble for traction. Something seizes around my ribs and yanks me up. My feet hang limp, inches from the floor.
“Telekinesis isn’t a parlor trick, Lia. It’s a weapon.”
He tilts his head, yanking me forward until our chests are inches apart, my toes barely brushing the floor. “Your every move belongs to me.”
He lets go. I stagger back, barely catching myself.
If an Aether Hunter catches me in a grip like this, there’s no version of this story where I walk away.
“Not if you’ve already decided you’ll lose,” he says.
I fix my mind on the space behind him and shove. He hits the wall and rebounds. I sink into my stance, muscles wound tight. His fist hisses past my ear, a fraction of an inch from a broken jaw. I parry a second strike, my forearms stinging as I bat his hands away in a rapid clash of bone and sweat.
He leaves his chin exposed, and I drive my fist upward, finding the underside of his jaw. He smirks in response, cocking his head. Weightlessness steals my breath before my skull meets the wall.
Gritty specks swarm my vision.
Get up. I need to get up.
I’m nothing but desperate motion, closing the distance until I’m close enough to see the sweat on his brow. The air in front of me solidifies. It’s like sprinting into bulletproof glass. The impact catches me mid-stride, hauling my momentum into a dead halt and tossing me back.
“Stop doing that.” I rub my aching cheek, glaring at him through the curtain of my hair.
I fix my eyes on his chest and pull the trigger in my mind. He’s launched, hitting the padding with an unexpected thump.
The satisfaction I expect is absent.
My pulse turns into a roar. I drop to my knees, my palms slapping the mat. Several loud voices—a flood of them—pour into my consciousness, pieces of their thoughts stripping away the silence.
My nails bite into my scalp. I can’t reach the source. It’s an internal flaying, a blade scraping against the soft tissue of my brain.
Kylo’s silhouette appears through the haze as he drops to my level.
“Please.” The syllable cracks. “Don’t.”
Salt stings the corners of my eyes, turning the room into a watery, unrecognizable mess. I try to count my breaths to calm down, but the numbers are swept away by the frantic thrum in my chest. His mouth is moving, but his voice is lost in the noise crowding my head.
My skull feels too small for my brain.
“Listen to my voice.” He reaches out, and I flinch. His hand lands on the center of my back. “Slow it down.”
I fix my eyes on his chest, trying to match the steady expansion of his lungs, but my throat is a sealed valve.
“I’ll shut out the noise. Give me your hands.”
My muscles seize, anchoring me to the mat.
What if he hurts—
“I won’t hurt you.” He holds his palms open, waiting. “Hands, Lia.”
My skin meets his, and the temperature in the room spikes. It’s a live wire, a current racing up my forearms that makes the hair on my neck stand on end.
The space transitions.
I’m surrounded by a crystal-clear blue lake, its surface glinting beneath warm sunlight.
A vibrant forest rings the water, towering trees heavy with emerald leaves that dance in the breeze.
The grass beneath my feet is soft and lush, dotted with wildflowers in every color imaginable.
Puffy clouds drift lazily overhead, and birdsong threads through the trees.
Kylo sits on my right, eyes fixed on the lake. Sunlight catches his irises, turning them into blue fire. I lower myself next to him.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Like I can finally breathe.”
The permanent crease between his brows is gone, his face unmasked and strangely calm.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere the voices can’t reach.” He gestures to the still water. “My mind.”
“How is that possible?”
“It’s a construct.” His gaze drifts to the emerald trees. “A memory I’ve reinforced over the years.”
My fingers brush the grass. It feels real, but it’s too consistent. Every blade is the same height, the same shade of green. “Can any telepath do this?”
“Most. It’s a basic skill once you learn to map the architecture of a mind.”
“How often do you come here?”
He looks out at the water. “I come here when I need silence. It’s the only place I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts.”
“I had no idea telepaths could create something like this.”
His lips twitch into a lopsided smirk.
The absence of noise is almost loud in itself. “It’s quiet.”
“That’s why I brought you here. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I wind a strand of hair around my finger. “One second the room was empty. The next, it sounded like multiple voices were shouting at once.”
He tracks the movement of my hands. I shift my weight, the grass rustling beneath me, unable to meet his scrutiny.
He looks like a man waiting for a confession I don’t have.
His expression tightens. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone in the compound should have their shields up. Unless you caught something from Abel or Marco. But even then, you shouldn’t have heard that many voices.”
“Then what was that?”