Bound by Prophecy by Melissa Wright
Chapter Two
Watched
Eventually, Emily escorted me to a new set of rooms where I took a long, too-hot shower. As I stood in front of the mirror combing my hair, I could hear their muted voices from the next room.
“I tried to keep from hurting him,” Brendan was explaining, “but he wouldn’t stop. And Brianna,” he paused, and I could imagine him shaking his head, glancing toward the window, “I couldn’t let her fall.”
They might have been able to force Morgan to turn him, to release his sway and let the man regain his own will, but no one was sure he would come out of this. Healing could only do so much, and Morgan wasn’t willing to do anything from the position he was currently in.
I stayed there for a long while, staring at the dark marble countertop, the tiles inlaid with gold, until all of the voices quieted. When I finally came out, Brendan was waiting for me in the bedroom.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said, indicating the windowless walls around us. “As soon as the security updates are finished, we’ll be moving you to Council.” I could see the idea bothered him more than it should, and the rest of his explanation seemed to be more to convince himself than me. “It’s the best place for you. To keep you safe.”
I nodded.
“I had them bring up some lunch. It’s in the sitting room.”
My stomach turned. “Thanks. I’m not really hungry.”
He didn’t shift; he hadn’t taken his eyes off me at all. “If you’d like to sleep for a—”
“No,” I interrupted. “No, I’m not tired.” I was exhausted—my muscles ached, and my hands still shook—but I didn’t want to be alone.
He held out a hand. “Sit with me then?”
I walked past him toward the sitting room, and his hand fell to the small of my back. I could have sat in the reading chair, but I didn’t. Instead, I took the center of a small sofa where Brendan could settle beside me. His arm came around me, and I curled my legs up, letting him tuck my back against his side.
I shouldn’t have. I knew that. But Brendan cared about me, and it felt good to have someone there.
I stared at the wall across from us, a beautiful Wyeth painting centered over a narrow table. It was probably an original. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to appreciate it. They had been attacking Council ever since Morgan was taken. We had thought it was in retaliation. We had thought they meant to rescue Morgan. But we were wrong ... because they were after me.
I closed my eyes, trying to force a vision to come. It didn’t work that way, but I wanted so badly to finally have this over with, to save my sister and myself. To save everyone. I just needed a clue. One small indicator of how, of what I was searching for in Emily, of what to do.
Brendan’s hand slid down my arm, and I became suddenly aware I’d sunk into him. My elbow rested on his leg, my back against his chest. His cheek brushed my hair, and I went rigid.
“Brianna,” he started, and I was on my feet, nowhere to go but the table across from us.
I could almost feel his presence behind me. I picked up a vase, examining the etched glass. Nice, Brianna, run over to look at glass.
“Brianna,” he said again, and the hurt in his tone was clear. I had to say something. Do something.
I turned to face him. “I’m sorry.” He was too close. I sat the vase back on the table, stepped one foot behind me. Two would have been too much. Two would have injured him more. I looked into his eyes, so dark they were nearly black, and said, “I like you, Brendan. I do.” Before I could finish, before I could add, “But …” his phone rang.
He answered it. In the middle of our conversation.
After a brief exchange, he slid the cell phone back into his pocket. His gaze found me. “I’m sorry, Brianna, but I have to take care of something.” He glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave you alone, but Aern will be here shortly. There are two men at the door, and the alarms are always on.” He reached up to touch my shoulder. “We will talk soon.”
And then he smiled, clearly only taking the “I like you” from our conversation, before walking out the door.
I stared at it for several minutes, open as it was, before finally falling onto the couch and throwing an arm over my eyes.
I had bigger problems, I knew, so I started populating a list in my head for when Aern arrived. I would do everything I could to resolve our issue. I had a lot of work to do before I could figure out where to start.
“Brianna,” Aern said from somewhere beyond my feet.
I dropped the arm from my eyes, surprised to see him standing near the end of the couch. His face was tight, which I assumed was displeasure at Brendan leaving me alone.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze fell on the other man in the room.
“This is Logan,” Aern explained. “He’s going to be staying with you until …” Somewhere in the back of my mind, Aern’s words were slowly filtering through, but I couldn’t register their meaning. I couldn’t even manage to form a thought. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the chiseled features of the man six feet away from me.
My chest tightened past the point of breathing, but my heart pounded against it nonetheless. It was him. I stared at the sandy blond hair, sun-kissed complexion, and deep whiskey eyes. I had seen them a hundred times; I would know them anywhere. It was him. Not in a vision, but here, in my room, in flesh and blood. Him.
“Brianna,” Aern said, and I tore my focus away from its target to look at him.
Concern was plain on his face, and I returned to myself.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
I shook my head, took a breath. Oh God, was my mouth still hanging open? I cleared my throat. “Sorry. What?”
His gaze narrowed, but he kept talking. “This is Logan. He’s going to stay with you.”
Logan. Logan. I finally had a name. My eyes were back on his now, I should be saying something.
Suddenly, Aern’s words sank in and I was standing. “He’s going to be watching me?”
“If that’s all right with you,” Aern explained. He glanced at the man, Logan, and shrugged his shoulder when he saw the one raised brow. Aern looked back at me. “He’s the only one I trust, Brianna.”
I nodded. “Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Fine? They were staring at me. I wanted to start all over. More than anything, I wanted another try. Or to hyperventilate. That would work, too.
“Have you been eating?” Aern asked.
The question threw me. And then my gaze betrayed me, flicking quickly toward the covered dishes on the side table.
Aern sighed. “Brianna, you can’t do this.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but it didn’t matter that I wasn’t doing it on purpose.
He pointed at a chair and said, “Sit.” I did as he asked, trying my best not to gawk at the other man in the room. Logan. A short, breathless laugh escaped and Aern stopped what he was doing to glance at me. I smiled, hoping it didn’t appear as manic as it felt, and he returned to setting the table with my lunch, shaking his head at my erratic behavior.
I watched them as they swept the room, discussing the existing and possible security measures. Aern’s arms were crossed, his gaze frequently coming back to meet mine, but I couldn’t look away.
I picked at the sandwich—prosciutto, oil, and cheese, now lukewarm—but I could barely taste it. Logan was roughly Aern’s height, but stouter. Or maybe he only seemed so in his dark, military style cargo pants and black T-shirt. There was a nylon belt crossing his waist, and it struck me where I’d seen a similar outfit. I struggled against the bite I’d taken, throat suddenly thick.
I’d forgotten about my attacker. I’d forgotten why this man was here.
To protect me.
I stared at him anew. He might have been the man from my visions, but he was a stranger. I knew nothing about him, and he … well, he would be even less acquainted with me.
The two men gripped each other’s forearms, and my stomach clenched.
Logan stepped into the hall to speak with the guards, and Aern sat in the chair opposite me. “Are you well, Brianna?”
“Yes,” I said automatically. He watched me for a moment to be certain I wouldn’t change my answer.
“All right, then.” He stood, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking down at me. “You know how to reach me.”
I smiled. “I have your number.”
The corner of his mouth turned up and he patted my back on his way past. When he reached the door, he called over his shoulder, “Get some rest, Brianna.”
I turned, smiling, and caught Logan coming back into the room.
The intimacy of the smile meant for Aern suddenly felt awkward now, aimed at the familiar stranger, and it faltered, leaving an uncomfortable pause between me and this man who would be my babysitter. This Logan.
I cleared my throat, pointed toward the bedroom. “I’m going to lie down.”
He nodded, but said nothing until I’d crossed the room and my hand touched the brass lever.
“Brianna.”
He spoke to my back, but the sound of my name sounded different somehow; weightier, sweeter, more right, in his voice. I didn’t turn around.
“I’d rather you left the door open, if that’s all right with you.”
My fingers slipped off the lever and I glanced back, only briefly, as I walked into the darkness of my room.
This concludes the free preview of Shifting Fate. Find it at your favorite retailer or visit Melissa-Wright.com for links and purchase info.
More from Melissa Wright
Descendants Series
Bound by Prophecy
Shifting Fate
Reign of Shadows
The Frey Saga
Frey
Pieces of Eight
Molly
Rise of the Seven
Visit the author on the web at
www.melissa-wright.com