Shards: Book One of the Anderian Series

Chapter 24: Wake Up Call

 Cian let me sleep through the night without further interruption. It seemed he wasn't as concerned about keeping the deadline. Maybe it was his way of showing kindness, or maybe he thought the Synod might be more forgiving when they learned about my Anderian connections. Either way, he was a day late and a dollar short, in my opinion.

But I didn't fight him when he woke me up and told me to get ready to leave. Face washed and teeth and hair brushed, I walked out to the car, ignoring Amaya's pointed looks as I climbed inside the car. She handed Cian a bag, whispered something, patted his shoulder, and went inside. He stared at the door long after it clanged shut, and though I wanted to clear my mind entirely of anything to do with the big brute, I couldn't stop myself from being curious when his shoulders curved forward and his chin dropped a fraction. What exchange could deflate him that much?

"Here," he said, handing me the bag after settling himself in the driver's seat. When I didn't reach for it, he let it drop in my lap. "Breakfast."

Prying the bag open, the delightful aroma of maple and bacon wafted to greet me, and my stomach announced its interest in the contents with an audible growl. However, I closed it and set it on the console between us without investigating further. During the long, black hours stretching between the bomb dropped on me and dawn, I'd determined to become a master of my baser instincts, refusing to let my body's wants control my actions any longer, and while I recognized the stupidity of turning down perfectly good nutrition after missing dinner, refusing to eat was a matter of principle.

Cian straightened his fingers over the steering wheel, his entire body going tense before he exhaled and curled his fingers back around the black leather—squeezing hard enough, it squeaked a bit. "You should eat something. It's going to be awhile before we can stop somewhere for lunch."

I shrugged and looked out the window. Snow-capped mountains peeked over the treetops. A light dusting of powder covered the highest branches, and the breeze buffeted flurries about, never letting them land anywhere. The road winding before us was narrow and so black it must have been freshly paved, which was a relief considering the longer we drove, the steeper the drop off became—at least on my side. I refused to look across the car to compare the view, too afraid to catch Cian watching me. Too afraid my precarious hold on my determination to withdraw from everything and everyone would be undone. This behavior went against my very nature, but I was so very tired of fighting. And losing.

I dozed off and on for about an hour, my stomach's protest never quieting enough to let me get any proper rest. Cian didn't make a move for the food, and it was so tempting to tear into the bag and shove the now cold, greasy goodness into my mouth. Being reserved and taciturn might be against my nature, but being stubborn was not. This was one game I could win.

Another downside to playing the quiet game was the forced time in my thoughts. I had spent most of my adult life focused on solving mysteries—finding closure for the victims of crime, while poking around for clues about my own life. And that was the problem, I realized as we crested a hill and took a sharp curve that made me suck in a sharp breath. If the wheel of the car so much as veered an inch too far, we would pitch into the abyss.

Licking my lips, I inched away from the window, and regretted it almost at once as the temperature ratcheted up several degrees just by being closer to the Anderian male. Not to mention I was now closer to the still delicious scent of breakfast.

I debated to scooting back toward the window but decided salvaging my pride was worth the discomfort. It wouldn't do for Cian to think his presence affected me, and I focused on following my train of thoughts back to where I'd derailed. Oh yes. The idea that I treated my past as a mystery to solve, and it might have been fine if I hadn't detached myself from it. Like I would get answers and put it in a file that said case closed and go on about my life. Not once had I really considered the consequences of answers.