Free Destiny's Shift by Carly Fall, Allison Itterly Page B

the Warrior Cohen,” Liberty
    said. “The male is in a terrible way after losing his mate in the destruction of SR44.”
    Hot on the heels of the first wave of pain came a second, but it felt different. “One
    of them again,” he said through gritted teeth.
    “Yes.”
    After that, Jovan didn’t feel much, just a bit of an ache. Liberty removed her
    hands as the elevator jerked to a stop.
    “Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty amazing.”
    Liberty nodded. “Yes. Eventually it will become second nature to you, and you
    will perform the task without realizing it.”
    She stepped out of the elevator, and Jovan followed. Without the cloak, he could
    still feel the emotions in the house, but instead of taking on tsunami-like qualities, they
    were more of a dull hum. Hums he could deal with: tsunamis, epic fail.
    Opening the thick oak door, she stepped into the quarters.
    The place was light and airy, done in different shades of cream and white accented
    with blacks and grays. The standard sixty-inch TV hung from the wall, a dark gray
    loveseat sat facing it. Another thick oak door on the other end of the room led to the
    bathroom. It was nice; however, Jovan would have preferred things a little more . . .
    masculine? Dark?
    Whatever.
    Liberty walked around the room, her finger tracing over the top of the dresser, her
    gaze going to the TV.
    “Oh my,” she said. “I love the box of moving pictures!”
    Jovan watched as she hurried over to it, glancing around the room. “It’s called a
    television, Liberty. For short, it’s a TV.”
    She nodded. “I knew that and I had forgotten. Where is the cylinder that makes
    the . . . TV come to life?”
    “Over by the bed. And that’s called a remote control.”
    Seconds later, Liberty sat on the bed, clicking through the channels, enraptured by
    the screen.
    After watching her taking it all in with childlike wonder, Jovan went to the
    bathroom to shower.
    He stripped off his clothing, letting it lie where it dropped. Turning on the shower,
    he appreciated the instant hot water. He let the water wash away the negativity that
    seemed to cover him like a wet wool blanket.
    Man, that shit in the dining room had fucked him up good.
    After the initial shock, he felt the hands of his fellow Warriors on him, as well as
    their mates. He had wanted to scream at Cohen to get the hell away from him because the
    guy was rolling in sadness and despair. He hadn’t needed the healing Cohen was trying to
    give him; he just needed everyone to get the hell away.
    His body had convulsed, and there was a moment when he was certain that he
    wouldn’t survive the onslaught.
    As the pain faded, he had felt her gentle hands on him, and he knew he wanted to
    be closer. He had eventually found her lap. It was a solace he relished.
    That simple trick she had taught him rocked. Just fucking rocked. There was hope
    that he wouldn’t need to get a lobotomy, move to an island, or go certifiably crazy.
    Maybe he could learn to deal with this curse. Gift. Whatever. Anyway, Liberty had given
    him a little hope.
    He smiled as he rinsed the shampoo. Liberty. Sweet little Liberty who had full
    control over the gift that brought him to his knees. Well, actually, put him flat on his
    back.
    Those little ringlet curls reminded him of that girl who starred in the old movie
    Annie , except, of course, Liberty’s curls were brown. She had an innocent face as well,
    but it was her demeanor that really gave away her pure soul. Really, she didn’t have a
    clue about much of anything.
    His thoughts wandered to seeing her in the pool the previous day, her small
    breasts cresting the water, her slim figure floating in a cross formation as if she were
    offering herself up to the heavens.
    Looking down at his hips, he watched as his sex came to life.
    Huh.
    It had been a long time since he had sex. About twenty years, if he remembered
    correctly. A blink of an eye for him, yet a quarter of a lifetime for some human. He