Ava Rising: Book 2 of 3

Chapter 17

"What?" Ava exclaimed, coming to in the sweltering Australian night. Adrenaline still humming through her veins, she spoke rapidly, "What was that? How did my grandmother do that? Could she see me? Was that Gaia, in the lava?" The questions tumbled out faster and faster. Ava looked at her own hands in wonder—could I do that?

And then she caught sight of Lucas, crouched on the ground looking pale and anxious. Owen was already standing over him, his hand resting lightly on Lucas's shoulder.

Ava felt hot shame snaking up her chest, around her neck, and into her cheeks, leaving its trail of crimson across her skin. As much as she had just seen her Order triumph in an unbelievable show of power, she had also just witnessed Lucas's friends and fellow members mowed down by a monster wrought of fire.

Lucas turned to her. "What is it? What did you see?" he asked.

As anxious as she'd been to speak before, words now deserted her. After a pregnant pause, Owen leaned over and began whispering in Lucas's ear. Red climbed higher up Ava's face, burning all the way to her earlobes. She had let Owen be the one to share the news. This seemed always to be his task, the stoic messenger, his broad shoulders strong enough to carry the heaviest burdens of grief.

After a long whispered conversation, in which Lucas slumped further and further down against the tree trunk, Owen straightened. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Lucas acknowledged Owen's words with a quick nod of his head. After a few moments he looked up at the Gaia warrior. "The little boy? The one captured with you?"

Owen shook his head, and Ava felt the familiar pulse of rage coming from her old friend. "He made it. But...he'll carry those burns for the rest of his life. They were too severe for even our most adept healers." His voice strangled with emotion, Owen added, "And we lost another...a little girl...to the Ares laying in wait in the forest." Ava looked away, heartsick. Now she understood the source of Owen's rage.

After a few moments of silent mourning, Ava thought of Lucas's question. It reminded her of something—she turned to see how Owen's burns had healed. Scanning up Owen's body, she realized she hadn't once truly looked at him since he had joined them in Australia. Maybe she was afraid of what she would find. Or more likely, how it would make her feel. She stared at the angry red scabs on his legs and understood that Owen too would carry the scars from the torture for the rest of his life. Unable to resist, her gaze moved up his legs to his torso, taking in the ripped t-shirt and broad shoulders. His face was dirt-smeared and covered in a week's worth of blond scruff, but the mischievous green eyes and slicing cheekbones were unchanged.

Under other circumstances this would be the setting of one of her daydreams—stuck in a remote Australian coastal setting with two men who looked like they had stepped right out of an L.L. Bean catalogue. As it was, the strange energy pulsing between the three of them was unsettling. She could feel the emotions swirling around her, tugging at her clothes like a riptide, currents of attraction colliding with guilt, jealousy, distrust, affection, hope, and a little tug of despair. Perhaps, most unsettling, she felt less the center of the triangle than the odd woman out. Her relationship with both Owen and Lucas was stalled—plagued by betrayals on her part and on theirs. But the two men had clearly begun to find common cause. Why did the small moments of affection between them, while sweet, make her so uncomfortable? These moments could exist, here in the wilderness, but she could scarcely imagine a future where Owen and Lucas could be real friends. Things were going better than she ever could have imagined, besides that whole kidnap and torture thing earlier in the week. Lucas and Owen were palling around like old friends. And yet...

She was interrupted from this train of thought by the faintest trace of laughter. She turned to find both the guys staring at her, eyes crinkled in mirth.