JUMP (The Senses) (43 page)

She was better off without him. His only
consolation was that she would be surrounded by the Senses and they would protect her and embrace her into the Talde.

“Goddamn it
, woman. Picture it, for Christ sake. I have better things to do with my time,” Kilter said as he leaned up against the tree.

“I am.”

“Typical woman,” Kilter said scowling.

“Oh screw
off,” Danielle said and picked up a rock and threw it at him. He ducked and it went over his head. She closed her eyes again and clenched her fists, her mouth scrunching together with concentration.

“You’re trying too hard,” Kilter said.

Relax. Concentrate. Picture. Feel.

But all she envisioned was Balen. Every time she closed her
eyes, he was there in her mind with his sharp green eyes. She threw her hands in the air. “Forget it. I can’t do it.”

Kilter pushed away from the tree, the moonlight flickering in his dark eyes. “You’re
right. You can’t.”

Danielle plopped down on the snow.

Kilter hovered over her. “Telekinesis requires strength, something you obviously lack. Give me your knife.”

Bastard,
she thought for the hundredth time.

Kilter said, “I know you don’t go anywhere without it.”

Danielle pulled the knife from her back pocket and held it in her grasp, her fingers caressing the handle. Kilter grabbed it and, before she could object, he sliced the sharp blade across the back of her hand.

Danielle gasped
, pulling back and holding her hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. “Psychotic dickhead. What the hell was that for?”

Kilter raised his hand with the knife and then flung it across the yard at full throttle. It s
ank deep into the middle of the trunk of the pine tree. “Because Waleron has made my life hell by forcing me help you. I want to end the hell as soon as possible. Feel pain, that’s reality. Now you can concentrate on what we’re doing instead of some fantasy you’re stuck in.”

Danielle looked at the blood dripping down her hand. It was a surface
wound, but it still hurt and she’d have to ask Anstice to heal her. Shit, this sucked.

Kilter waited, patient and for once in his life with no crass remark. She needed to do this.
For Balen. For herself. For them.

“I just want it known that I don’t like you.”

“Ditto,” Kilter said. “Now, get the knife out of the tree, so I can get out of this bleeding cold.”

After four days of putting up with his thoughtless
remarks, she’d grown a thick skin when it came to his insensitivity. Crude, controlling, dominant and downright rude, Kilter had put himself on her shit list for holding a grudge. However, he knew how to push her to get things done, and learning how to deal with her new abilities was tough and sometimes frustrating as hell. Getting Balen off her mind was implausible and Kilter knew it.

The bastard had cut her hand
, knowing it would cut through the thick cloud in her head enough for her to concentrate on what she was doing. It pissed her off that this guy knew how to get through to her. He was the only one who managed to get her out of bed and stop wallowing in self-pity. He had been the one to get her to face reality. He made her fight back.

In an odd sort of
satanic way, Kilter had saved her sorry ass from self-destruction. She hadn’t needed kindness and soft words and hugs and tears. She required blunt truth and it hurt.

One day she just hoped that she could give the back-at-ya to Kilter. Funny though to think of a woman actually falling for this guy. Even Grim disliked him
, and Anstice’s Newfie liked everyone.

She stared intently at her knife, Balen’s knife, stuck in the trunk of the tree. The cold winter breeze drifted through her hair but she hardly felt it as she remained focused on her task. The wound on her hand throb
bed a dull aching pain, reminding her this was real. This was now, and if it was the last thing she’d do, that bloody knife was going to move.

He told her to picture it move, to make her imagination reality. Anything was possible,
especially if you were a Senses. And that meant Balen could come back to her. Maybe if she worked hard enough, perfected her skills, then she could do something about his judgment.

“Concentrate. Here. Now,” Kilter growled.

She scrunched her nose at his familiar interference of her thoughts. The guy had no qualms about reading anyone’s mind, and she couldn’t wait until she was able to block him from her own.

She focused. It moved. It jiggled. She saw it happening. She pushed harder until she was sweating under her thick winter coat. She could do this. It would happen if she let it.

The knife jolted from its penetration of the wood and then fell to the ground, its steel blade glittering on the hard-packed layers of snow.

“That was half ass,” Kilter said, but he had a hint of a smile. “Enough for today. Tomorrow we go to the mall.”

“What? Why the mall? Are we shopping for duct tape for your mouth? Because I’d love to do the honors.”

He made a half-grunt, half-hiss that accompanied his permanent scowl. “It’s Saturday. You will learn to harness the thoughts of crowds of people.” He began to walk back to the house.

Oh, that sucked. The others had been careful about blocking their own thoughts from her while living in the same house, but on occasion, she got bombarded by thoughts from people who passed by the house. A week since Balen had been taken and she hadn’t gone home yet, although thankfully, Anstice had picked up Splat and brought him here.

Figures Kilter didn’t want to take baby steps. Instead, he was throwing her into a cesspool of thoughts. At
least, she’d learn a hell of a lot faster.

Waleron had yet to make any appearance, had ignored
the messages she’d left on his cell and his e-mail. As for contacting him by mind—she had yet to work up the nerve to do that. No one knew what the devil was going on with Balen. For all she knew, he was already in Rest and Waleron was too much of a wuss to come and tell her. No. Categorizing Waleron as a wuss was like saying Kilter was a sweetheart.

“Hey Off-kilter.” He hated her nickname
, which made it all the more sweet when she used it. He didn’t turn, but he stopped with one hand on the doorknob. “One day, you will find love and I intend to be there when you do.”

“You have to give a shit about people to do that. I don’t.” He threw open the massive arched door and walked inside. He didn’t fail to slam it behind him.

Danielle fell back into the snow and stared up at the full moon. She had wanted Balen to teach her about his kind, to help her through the frustrations of all these new and weird abilities. He knew her fears, knew what made her tick, felt her emotions.

God, she was going stir-crazy waiting for Waleron to make his appearance. Where was he? Had they made a decision? Were they treating Balen well? Could he already be in Rest? Was he dead?

Danielle lay still, her eyes watching the clouds drift over the moon. She was surprised when she heard Kilter in her head. Would the guy ever give her a moment’s peace? Probably forgot to tell her to mind her own goddamn business.

“
Changing into one of us took guts. Whether you did it to save your life or not, Waleron believed in you. He would have never risked us going against the Wraiths otherwise. All you have to do is believe in yourself. Now get inside before you freeze to death and Waleron comes after my ass for allowing it.”

She was taken back by his words and had no response. Not that he expected one. Nothing kind ever came out of that man’s mouth. He was right though. She had trouble believing in herself, had all her life. She quit everything before she had the chance to fail it, never once thinking that she’d conquer and succeed. It was better saying you quit rather than you failed. At
least, that was what she always believed. The only thing she stuck with was her painting and that was because it was embedded within her, she had no other choice but to paint. It freed her emotions, her soul, her anger and frustration. Each piece of artwork was her own therapy for her lost sense of direction. Her failures. The hurt and pain of what her father had done. Leaving her alone to face the world. Not loving her enough to stay and live another day.

Her relationships said it
all; end it before they can end it with you so you don’t get hurt. The relationships never failed because she quit them before they started. Protect yourself, she’d learned real quickly after discovering her father lying on the floor with half his head blown off. Don’t let yourself fall into the same trap. Don’t show your weakness by falling in love.

But it was too late for that
. She loved Balen. She wanted him in her life. She had to believe that what they shared would last, that it wouldn’t fail. And if it did fail? Yeah, it would hurt like hell, but wasn’t she hurting already? Didn’t she feel pain in her heart with him gone? Maybe they wouldn’t have a second chance, but if they did, she sure as hell was going to fight for it. She had to or she’d regret it more than all the other things she regretted quitting in her life. How could anyone else believe in her if she didn’t believe in herself?

A snowflake fell on the tip of her nose and then melted. The moisture soaked into her skin and she closed her eyes as more fell from the sky. She pictured him in her mind, those green eyes penetrating, his hands on her skin, his lips tasting her own. Her body relaxed into the snow, sinking further and further into a trance of sensations. His breath like a feather sweeping across her neck, fingers cupping her chin, thumb stroking the cleft, so soft and comforting.

“Balen,”
she whispered.
“Balen, feel me. Know that I love you. I will fight for us. I promise you. I promise you. I love you.”

****

Balen jolted out of sleep. Her voice. He heard her voice. She spoke to him. He ran his hand through his hair. That was impossible; no Senses could reach him in the realm telepathically. Shit, not even Waleron had that ability. It had to have been a dream.

I love you.

Balen felt his breath leave his lungs as her voice seeped into his mind like a mist. Danielle?
Danielle?
Nothing. He came to his feet and waited. Paced and waited some more. Hoping he’d hear her again. Nothing.

She loved him. Had it been his imagination? She was an exceptional telepathic, but to reach him here? His instincts told him she had spoken, but his instinct he no longer trusted.

Waleron Traced into his doorless marble room and Balen stiffened. Christ, the guy looked like shit. That didn’t speak well for him. “A decision has been made. You will stand before the council.”

The
south wall of the room slowly disintegrated into tiny particles of water, and he found himself standing in front of an elaborate man-woman fountain facing the council members. Waleron went and took his seat beside Zurina. Balen had met her a few times and liked the Taldeburu; she had a good heart and ruled with a firm hand. Beautiful as hell and a backbone stronger than most warriors’.

Edan, the pesky Wraith who had placed him in hell—even though it was a paradise for those
who wanted to be here—was the only one who looked relaxed leaning back in his chair. The rest of the Elemental Wraiths appeared tired and irritable. He met eyes Genevieve’s and she quickly averted her gaze. That certainly didn’t speak well for him.

Tor spoke
. “Balen, you defied the sentencing of Rest that was decreed. You also had others assist in your escape.” He paused. “Defying a sentence is punishable by death. However,” he paused again. “It came to our attention that a Bonding spell had been placed upon you and a human. If you had been sent to Rest, this human would’ve died. Is this truth?”

Balen gave a single nod.

“And the Bond has been broken?”

“Yes,” Balen replied.

“Genevieve will answer to the Goddess Enid for this . . . this meddling. I must say, Genevieve fought four days for you, along with your Taldeburus. I believe she would’ve had us here for years if we didn’t consent to her wishes.” His lips curved up at the corner. “You can thank her that you will live. Understand that we must obey the laws the Senses and Wraiths inscribed in order for the balance of nature.

“
You’ve been found guilty of treason. We have waived the incident of defying the sentence due to the circumstances that were beyond your control. However, you will be accountable for the past. The sentence stands. You will be sent to Rest.” He saw Waleron’s brow flinch and Zurina close her eyes. Genevieve refused to look at him. “Ten years. No exile.” The sound of his sentence pounded in his ears. When he actually heard it, he realized that he cared what happened to him. He wanted to live life. He sure as hell didn’t want to stay in Rest for the next ten years. “Have you anything to say?” He was about to say yes when a voice came from behind him.

“I do.” All eyes turned to the far end of the room. Edan
stiffened, his back straightening. Waleron cursed under his breath as Balen heard the soft footfalls come towards him. He was as shocked as the rest of them to see Delara approach.