Read Online Dark Weaver (Weaver Series) by Dena Nicotra - Free Book Online Page B

read.  I was formally stripped of all of my abilities as a weaver — which they had actually already done on the glass block, while Kalan held my hands and drew my power out.  I guess they had to make it look formal.  Afterwards, I was led to a chamber where I was told I would remain until every weave I’d ever made was investigated to ensure that none of my “sloppy” treadling had caused any inappropriate breaks in time.  How insulting could they get?  It was hard to believe that these were the light weavers! I’d been discussed as if I’d masqueraded as a physician and performed bogus surgeries on people.  When the door locked behind me, I turned to look at my accommodations.  At least my room was nice.  There was a small window that I could look out and see their strange city. 
    Below me tons of weavers were going on with their lives, weaving, and doing who knows what while I was locked away like some freak of nature.  I’d dreamed of finding acceptance amongst these people, and even here I was considered a freak.  I allowed myself to flop on the bed and really cry.  I cried first for a love I thought I’d had and then I cried selfishly for the loss of my abilities, because they had been such a part of me. Then I cried for being an outcast.  The hatred that the crowd had for me was palatable. Granted, I hadn’t heard anyone’s thoughts, and I couldn’t read a thing, but I knew they hated me.  I also knew that when they eventually sent me home I’d be unable to help a single soul.  I could only pray that they would strip me of all of my memories of ever being a weaver before they sent me home.  If they ever sent me home that is.

***
    I guess I fell asleep at some point because when I opened my eyes again  someone was shaking my shoulder.  I was vaguely aware that it was still dark but my mind hadn’t registered my circumstances.  “Kalan,” I muttered.
    “Nope, sorry to disappoint love, I’m not Kalan.”
    I sat up abruptly.  Kess grinned at me in the dark.
    “Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re sleeping?”  He whispered in my ear.  His warm breath on my skin sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed him away.
    “Stop it Kess, that’s not funny!”
    “Who said I was trying to be funny?”
    “How’d you get in here?”  I demanded.
    He shrugged, “I’m a weaver love, and I can be any place I want to be.”
    “Don’t rub it in,” I grumbled.
    “You are way too tense, how bout I rub your shoulders instead?” he said as he reached behind me. The moment he touched me I got that fluttery feeling in my stomach.  The warmth of his hands combined with the gentle way he touched me felt like a thousand volts of electricity. Instinctively I fought those feelings
    “Thanks, but that’s not helping,” I said and pulled away from his touch.  I didn’t want to feel like that.  Especially not with him.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “Just trying to help,” he said matter-of-factly.
    “If you really want to help, get me out of here,” I snapped, and crossed my arms. He clicked on a small lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.  The soft light reminded me of home, which only made me more depressed. “One thing at a time. Here,” he said, and handed me a tall glass of sweet tea.  I took the glass and gulped the contents gratefully.  I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.  Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten a thing either.  As quickly as I had the thought, a plate with roasted chicken and mashed potatoes appeared in front of me on the comforter of the bed.  It smelled way too good to resist.  I grabbed the fork and took a small bite. I was still angry with him, actually with everyone but my stomach demanded attention.  I ate in silence as Kessler sat on the edge of the bed watching me.  He handed me a napkin when I finished, and weaved the plate away.  “Better now?” he asked softly.
    “My stomach is, but not the rest of me,” I said, and