Free Beyond the Darkness by Jaime Rush

you got the sage burning from?”
    “My mother is Hopi, but I only lived with her tribe for a couple of years.”
    “Why?”
    He regarded her for a moment. “You ask a lot of questions.”
    “I’ve had too many unanswered questions rambling around in my head for a long time. They’re like mice scurrying around, gnawing holes in my brain.”
    His mouth lifted in a brief smile before it faded. “But remember, when you bring in cats to get rid of the mice, they can end up being even more destructive.”
    She wrinkled her nose at him. Something bothered her, tiny shards sticking to her as though she’d brushed against a cactus. She picked at the crease in the rumpled sheets. “You told me your father communicates with you from beyond the grave. That’s how you know so much.”
    He nodded.
    “Your abilities go beyond ours. Besides the panther thing. You can freakin’ change the weather. I mean, you brought on this terrific thunderstorm to camouflage our attempt to rescue Nicholas.”
    He shook his head. “My father did that.”
    “And the shield you put over the Tomb?”
    “Tomb?”
    “My affectionate term for the bomb shelter.”
    He settled his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “That was me. It worked against the Offspring, but not against Otherlings.”
    Pope had been watching the Offspring, but he hadn’t been watching over Cheveyo. Why? “You said something to Pope about your father and the mind scan.”
    He didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell evenly, his body relaxed.
    “Cheveyo,” she whispered.
    Either he was doing a good impression of sleeping or he was actually asleep. She looked at his face, his square chin with a slight dip, his thick lashes. Like the boy she’d seen. Her gaze drifted lower, to the dark hairs across his chest, the lean definition of his pecs and biceps. Definitely not a boy. Her hungry gaze took in the hard planes of his stomach, the ridges of his ribs. She moved closer to study the silver panther at the hollow of his throat. It was elegant in its artistry, catching the cat mid-leap. His only other piece of jewelry was a ring on his right hand. A gold band, not unlike a wedding band, that had a twist.
    When she started to feel invasive about studying him, she remembered that he’d watched her sleep. All’s fair . . .
    She shivered at the thought of him standing by her bedside doing this to her. His eyes moved beneath his lids. Could he already be in REM sleep?
    Studying his face for any signs of wakefulness, she moved her hand over his arm, healing the scratches that ran all the way to his shoulder. The old scars, though, wouldn’t disappear, including the nasty one across his chest.
    My warrior .
    No, not hers. In a way, though, since he’d saved her life, held her in his arms and promised to watch over her, she considered him hers.
    She waved her hand over the other cuts, briefly feeling the pain of them tingle along her skin. He was definitely asleep, or he would have felt her healing him. Maybe he’d be angry at her for going against his wishes, but the hell with it. He’d saved her life; it was the least she could do.
    She felt something else, too, and held her hand over his chest where she’d first picked it up. An energy that was deep and sad and lonely. It washed over her and made her eyes well with tears.
    His fingers moved slightly. His toes flexed. She’d seen dogs and cats dreaming, their bodies twitching in sleep. What was he dreaming about? Fighting evil?
    He was always wary, her warrior, ever watchful. Except for now. He trusted her enough to give himself over to the deepest of sleep in her presence. The thought warmed her. She carefully stretched out beside him, close enough to feel his body heat but not touching. Her eyes remained open for a while, facing the side of his arm, the dark thatch of hair at his armpit and the paler skin beneath it. She wanted to keep looking at him but finally her eyes drifted shut.
    When she woke, sunlight