Maya Banks: Whispers in the Dark

She smiled faintly at his reluctant concern for her.

I’m Shea , she finally said after battling over whether she should even divulge that much.

NATHANleaned his head back against the rough stone surface of the cell wall and stared sightlessly into the dark. His pain was gone. Sort of. He could feel it hovering on the fringe, almost like he was catching impressions of pain from someone else but not exactly feeling it in his body.

Was she real? It wasn’t possible.

But then did it matter if his imagination got him through this ordeal?

Shea. She’d said her name was Shea. And she wanted to help him.

Was he crazy? Was this some cruel trap hatched by his captors as a way to drag information from him? How could they get into his head? He’d heard of subliminal shit, but he’d never given it a thought. Besides, how the hell did someone subliminally talk to you? Shea—whoever she was—wasn’t planting ideas. She’d taken his pain and she was suffering . Because of him.

She’d been silent for several long seconds now, and panic grabbed him. His pulse sped up, and a knot formed in his throat that remained no matter how hard he swallowed. Regardless of whether she was real or imagined, he didn’t want her to go.

Shea.

He tested her name in his mind, liking the way it sounded. The way it felt.

I’m here.

She sounded weak. He frowned. What did you do? How is it you can take my pain away?

That’s not important. You have to tell me how to help you. Isn’t there anything you can tell me about your location? Who is holding you? What branch of the military are you with? Surely there’s someone I can contact.

He could sense the hundred questions bursting into his mind from hers. She was frustrated and impatient. She needed information fast because she feared not being able to hold their link.

He frowned again and felt the beginnings of a throb in his head. He was feeling her pain.

Every one of his instincts told him that this was crazy. That this was some bizarre manifestation brought on by endless torture. He’d broken from reality.

But if that was true and he was merely imagining this entire conversation with Shea, then it couldn’t hurt to tell her how to contact his brothers.

Hope flickered and he angrily called it back. He wouldn’t put stock in this insanity. He knew that any disappointment could finally break him completely.

Nathan, hurry.

He palmed his temples and pressed, closing his eyes. Sam Kelly. He lives in Dover, Tennessee, with the rest of my family. Garrett, Donovan, Ethan and Joe… God, where was Joe? The idea that his twin could be in a similar hell sent fear crashing through him. No, Joe wasn’t here. Nathan would know. He would have heard. Joe wasn’t even on the same team. He’d be home by now. Maybe even discharged already. Nathan had to believe that because he couldn’t bear any other alternative.

He felt her stir again, and he got the sense of her stepping out of a car. Had she been driving? She drifted farther away and alarm slammed into him again. Sweat covered him and he swallowed rapidly.

Then she touched him. The sensation of her hands on his shoulders, soothing and warm. A gentle brush of her lips against his temple.

Give me a moment. I have to make sure I’m safe. I won’t leave you. Not yet.

The next moments were the longest of his life as he sat in the darkness. There was…nothing. No distant cries. No sounds of violence. It was so quiet that unease slithered down his spine until he was gripped by panic again.

They wouldn’t come again. Not so soon.

He licked his dry, cracked lips. He’d sell his soul for water. Food, he’d long since lost the desire for. But water. He could make himself ill on it if only he had it.

He thought of his brothers. His mom and dad. Imagined himself at home in the loving hold of his family. Where were they? Were they looking for him now? What had the army told them about his disappearance?

But even as he thought of rescue and of going home, he wondered if he’d ever be the same Nathan Kelly again.

He didn’t feel like a man. He felt like an animal . Less than an animal. His mind didn’t even work the same as before. He was reduced to basic survival. He coped from one hour to the next, locked in hell.

As a soldier he lived with the reality that each day could be his last. Death wasn’t something he could afford to be in denial over. It wasn’t what happened to other people. It happened to his fellow soldiers on a daily basis.

And now he realized that there were some things worse than death. Death meant peace. It meant rest. It meant relief from unimaginable conditions. Even animals were afforded more dignity than he was. Sometimes simply enduring was worse than death.

He didn’t fear it. A part of him welcomed it.

He slid a hand over his bare chest and down to his gaunt belly. He could feel each rib. Dirt and blood covered his naked body, but he’d long since gotten over the outrage of being stripped of his clothing.

Imagine that you’re in a hot bath and that food surrounds you on all sides.

Startled by the soft intrusion, he laughed softly at the image she painted in his mind. Are you safe? Where are you now? Why do you think you’re in danger?

She was bone weary and pain beat relentlessly at her head. She was curled into a ball. On a bed? If she was in danger, she was extremely vulnerable. Had she locked the doors? Did she have means to defend herself?

It’s you we need to concern ourselves with, she murmured in a drowsy voice that hummed like sweet honey through his head. Tell me more now. I can’t…I can’t just call your brother up. It’s too risky for me. But I can send him a letter. Or… She huffed in frustration and closed her eyes as she tried to gather her senses. Her battle confused him. He had no idea how any of this was possible. I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.

Though there was fatigue and resignation bleeding from her, he sensed steely resolve. She was determined to help him.

You could email Van. He’s always on the computer. He’d see it right away. It was out before he even thought about what he was doing. He was giving out his brother’s email address to his imaginary friend. Then the rest of what she’d said caught up to him. Why is it risky for you? What kind of trouble are you in? My brothers could protect you. They’d be in your debt if you helped them find me.

I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe.

The soft words slipped through his mind. They were tinged with regret but said matter-of-factly. Whatever her situation, she absolutely believed that she was in danger. She accepted it without hesitation.

Think, Nathan. Think about where you could be. Where were you when you were captured? Were you transported far? Were you conscious at the time? There has to be something I can pass on to your brothers.

He sucked in his breath and tried to calm his thoughts. Every time he thought back to that day, his mind became a jumble of gunfire, explosions, mixed shouts. Some from his men, some from the enemy.

He and his team had pulled a recon. Nothing complicated. They weren’t expecting to be engaged. The area had been quiet. The hot zone was to the south. They’d split off from Joe’s team, one going farther north, Nathan and his team taking the immediate area.

Then all hell had broken loose.

It was hard to piece together that day. An explosion close to him had knocked him unconscious, and when he’d come to, he was bound and in the back of a shoddy-ass cargo truck. Three of his team members were there. One had died soon after. The other had died today. Only Swanny remained. Alive in hell with Nathan.