by Lisa Hughey
Tears welled in her eyes. She just needed him to go away.
“No.”
No? No? “You...jackass.”
His eyebrows rose and some expression skittered across his hard face. Too fast to identify but she swore that he was laughing at her. Which seemed impossible. This guy looked like he hadn’t laughed in centuries.
He didn’t respond to her insult. His grave intense focus seemed carved in stone. He only raised one dark eyebrow, and the right corner of his mouth tilted, just a tiny uptick. And she swore it was as if she could hear the crack in his heart as a tiny fissure appeared and began to let his emotions seep from the frozen organ.
He came to a stop less than a foot away from her.
Relief and peace surged through her again. Shasa shoved her shoulders back, shifted her chin up, and stared defiantly into his eyes. Now that her little panic attack was over, her natural sense of aggression reasserted itself. The move lifted her breasts, and as if she had some sort of crazy lust-inducing sense of radar, her nipples perked up and her body took notice of the surly hot man who was emitting a feral, primal sex appeal.
Everything within her stilled, as if she were on the precipice of…something. The heat from his body warmed the air around them. The slight scent of ozone wafted from the damp black curls that fell around his face like a halo.
“You aren’t having a breakdown.” His voice was gruff.
Her heart banged in her chest, the beats so hard, her body shook with little tremors. “You don’t know me.” Did he?
He couldn’t be her dream man. The dream was some sort of weird freaky recurring episode that she had that didn’t make any sense. She didn’t do water. Ever.
And yet...when he curled his fingers around the shell of her ear it was as if she had come home. At his first touch, a cool, calming sensation flooded her with well-being.
His breath was soft and sweet on her forehead as he whispered, “Precious water.”
She leaned toward him, the tips of her breasts touched the hard, unforgiving wall of his chest. He knew the meaning of her name. Her mother’s unusual choice bestowed upon her as an infant had always seemed to be ironic since she hated the very thing she was named for.
“How?” Very few people knew the meaning of her name. How could he? Why would he?
Zach tilted his head, the move exactly, exactly like the man in her dreams. And said, “You’d be surprised.” He began to lower his head, his face so close she could see the individual hairs of his stubble and sense the wary longing in his flat gaze.
Fear drop-loaded a river of adrenaline into her bloodstream. She jerked away from him and scuttled to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between them as she could. Dream man had said those exact words to her before they kissed for the first time. “Why did you say that?”
Who are you? Am I losing my mind?
How had she let this stranger almost kiss her? Normally she had a strong, built-in distrust of people. She was reclusive, a loner, and she liked it that way. So how had he managed to get up close and personal and slither beneath her tightly bound emotions?
She didn’t do relationships. She barely did hook ups. She didn’t like to be touched, and she certainly had no inclination to share anything other than her body on those infrequent occasions when her innate loneliness got to be too much and she sought out a few hours of physical pleasure.
He was dangerous.
Her stomach pitched. Saliva filled her mouth as acid geysered up through her chest. She ran for the little bathroom off the entry way barely making the toilet as she emptied her stomach in one giant heave.
The contents ripped out of her as if an alien had invaded her body and then decided they didn’t like it and clawed their way out.
She must have some kind of flu and coming to see her mother had only made it worse. Nothing made any sense. Not the instant attraction to the stranger in her mother’s living room who looked eerily like the man from her dreams. Not the fact that she felt better every time he was physically close.
Her stomach heaved again, forcing all thoughts of Zach and her dreams out of her head.
A jasmine-scented incense stick stuck out from the neck of a brass frog resting on cover of the chipped radiator, and the once white tiles behind the toilet bowl were darkened from years of dust. The overlay of pine sol and the sickly sweet odor of Duane’s cigarillos choked her.
The nausea began to ease. Oh, thank goodness. Hopefully she was over whatever was making her so sick. Then his hand curled over her shoulder and rested on her bare neck. Tingles cascaded down her spine in a waterfall.
“You okay?” His voice resonated through the tiny powder room.
Shasa rested her head on the wall as her body realigned and her stomach settled. Within seconds of him putting his hand on her, she felt infinitely better.
Something really odd was going on.
And it all centered on him.
Five
Zach wasn’t sure what was going on. He kept his hand on Shasa’s shoulder. Every time she moved away from him, the sickness came back. At first he’d thought that she was ill, but when he touched her the condition eased. But within seconds of moving away from him, her body began to shake and she got progressively paler. He’d never seen anyone react so strongly. But he couldn’t tell what she was reacting to.
“Do you know what is wrong with you?”
“No. I don’t,” she muttered. She turned her face toward the small window high on the wall. The proud curve of her cheekbone was highlighted by the ray of light peeking through the slatted wooden blinds. Even though it was lightly misting, the sun was shining right now in one of those odd little breaks in the clouds.
As they waited in silence, the mist turned more relentless and the downpour that threatened all morning finally began. Her thick brown lashes rested against her face and her lips trembled. “This is why I live in the desert.”
Zach grabbed a Dixie cup from the dispenser installed beside a small painting of the ocean on a bright summer day. He handed her a cup filled with water from the sink.
He remembered what her mother said, insisted really, but he didn’t see how that was possible. “You think this is what happens when you get near water?”
Shasa swished her mouth with the cool liquid then spit in the sink. She pressed her lips together, not answering. “I’ve been terrified of large bodies of water since I was a kid.”
However, Zach knew that as an Angel and a Dowser, there was no way the river running alongside this cabin was making her sick. Water was the life and energy source of a Dowser. She couldn’t possibly be getting sick from the water. Zach remembered how the mist and the rain by the falls had rejuvenated him. Being afraid of the water was an uncommon occurrence, so maybe she only thought that was what happened when she got near water because she never got close enough. “Come with me.”
“What are you doing?” She griped, but her protestation was weak as he lead her outside. Rain poured from the cloudy sky, liquid pooled thickly on her skin and then seemed to evaporate into her pretty brown flesh.
“It’s an experiment.” He believed she’d start to feel better once she absorbed more water into her body. Dowsers had a strong affinity for water and a need for its sustenance that far outstripped most humans.
Her gaze kept straying to the gently shushing river across the road as the current flowed in rough swells along the rock strewn shore. She shuddered and turned away from the sight. Her pulse beat shallowly in the shadowed hollow of her throat.
“You don’t like the river?”
She shook her head violently.
She truly was afraid of the river. He’d never seen anything like it. Dowsers loved water. They weren’t afraid of it. He wanted to question her to find out why, but their seeming truce was tenuous at best so he merely observed and didn’t speak.
Within a few minutes, her skin took on a warmer tone.
“Is there a reason that we’re standing in the
rain?”
Zach ignored the sarcasm. “How are you feeling now?”
She started to snark at him. But then she blinked, her curly dark brown lashes hid the stunning, surprising violet of her irises as she stared at the bare grass beneath their feet. Then she lifted her gaze to him, slightly bewildered.
“Better.”
Her skin had started to glow from the soul-enriching, power-nourishing liquid, as her body soaked up the moisture like the parched sand of the desert.
“How did you know that the rain would help?”
With a fierce pleasure, he noted he was right. The water was healing her. “You’ve been sick because you’re denying your body’s basic need for water.”
“Hardly. I live in the desert. I’m very aware of the physiological need to hydrate.”
Zach shook his head. “You misunderstand.”
He subtly eased back from her but she didn’t seem to notice and her body continued to heal before his very eyes. Ten minutes ago, she would be feeling sick because of the distance between them. Somehow his energy eased her sickness.
She propped her fists on her hips and canted her head, her stance pure sass. Already the water was helping her assert her natural feistiness. “Well then explain it to me, dream boy.”
Zach processed her use of the flippant nickname, his brows crinkled into a frown. “What did you call me?”
A dark flush rode high on her cheekbones. “Nothing,” she muttered. But she’d inadvertently taken another step away from him.
Dream boy. Could she mean…?
“You dream of me?” He couldn’t seem to help himself from asking. She pressed her full lips together as if trying to hold the words in and refused to answer. But her non reply was an answer in itself.
That was unusual. Unprecedented, actually.
“Of course not. It’s just that you’re so dreamy,” she said sarcastically.
She was lying. She had apparently dreamed of him. Another piece in the increasingly strange puzzle of their connection. He wanted to ask her what she dreamed but instead of pressing her, Zach decided to move on.
“You were making yourself sick.” Zach was now over ten feet away from her. A few minutes ago, she’d have been running for the bathroom. Now she stood complacently in the rain, her skin nearly glowed with health and vitality.
“That’s not possible. I eat organic, stay away from processed food, and take very good care of my body.”
Zach let his gaze stray for a moment. He skimmed over her lush curves and her feminine attributes. “I can see that,” he remarked, keeping his expression deliberately bland.
But as if she sensed the roar of his desire beneath his still muscles and hooded eyes, she flushed and her breath caught in her throat.
“However, you need more water than an average human,” Zach explained. “How long have you lived in the desert?”
The strain on her body and her psyche to gather water to her must have been immense. For most Dowsers the lack of water would have been debilitating, and yet she’d been surviving. Her relatively good health was a miracle.
“Years.”
Years? Amazing. How had she survived years away from the life giving and energy enhancing properties of water?
“Where in the desert did you live?” He deliberately used the past tense. Once her transition was done there was no way she could return to such a dry, arid climate.
She bristled. Shasa had noted the distinction.
“Near Sedona.”
“Ah.” Sedona, Arizona. A well-known intersection of ley lines, and historically believed to be a large vortex energy source. “Sedona has a particularly strong meeting of ley lines.”
She nodded. “Yep.”
Zach paced around the small yard as he considered the implications of her living arrangements. Shasa continued to stand in the falling rain. The damp had seeped into her clothes, turning her white blouse nearly transparent. And he was transported back to those days in Jamaica. Their forbidden trysts, his illicit attraction, and the stunning glory of her body caressed by the ocean and on display for his pleasure.
Ley lines. That’s what he needed to focus on, not the delicate, scalloped lace beneath the wet cotton that revealed the burnished copper of her nipples. His mouth watered with the need to devour those rigid peaks until she was writhing with pleasure.
“According to your mother you are uncommonly strong. The proximity to the ley lines is likely what enabled you to survive only on the moisture buried far beneath the desert’s surface.”
She snorted a laugh. “You’re as crazy as she is.”
Zach stalked toward her, his intent and impatience bled through every word and action. “You feel a hundred times better, do you not?”
“Yes but—”
“But nothing.” His desire for her battered at him. Rage simmered as he denied his soul the need to stretch and lengthen and twine them together so he could be complete once again.
Her mouth snapped shut at his animosity.
“I need you to help me.”
She shot him a get real look. “How in the world can I help you?”
“You are a human Angel. A Dowser.” He could see her readying to push back, to deny her heritage.
She held her ground against his acrimony as he stalked closer.
“This angel stuff is a figment of her, and your, deluded imagination.”
“My deluded imagination,” he barked, once again annoyed. The surliness that had been his constant companion since the disaster in Jamaica came raging back full force. Sarcasm and anger were the only defenses against that guilt that clawed at him daily.
She crossed her arms over her stomach, a mistake since the defensive move plumped her breasts and they spilled from the V-neck of her white peasant blouse. The sight of those caramel mounds, framed by the thick cotton embroidery shot him right back to sexual attention.
“How are you feeling now, Shasa?” He slinked closer until they were separated by less than an inch.
He tried to focus on her face. On her denial. But it was hard because her body was demanding his attention.
He wanted. That pretty much summed up his dilemma. He wanted to pull her body flush against his. He wanted to plunder the lush fullness of her mouth and stroke his tongue along hers. He wanted to caress the strong line of her neck and press sipping kisses against the rapid beat of her pulse. He wanted to ravish her, overwhelm her, make her acknowledge the electric attraction that arced between them.
But he couldn’t. While the Angelic Realm might be making advances on the issue of Archangel and human sexual relations—hadn’t he just defended Luci and Jed to the Council?—the truth was that even if kissing her, loving her, sexing her wasn’t banned, he still wouldn’t go there. Zach shut down his lust, and shoved away his forbidden longings.
Because he didn’t deserve her.
Six
Shasa wasn’t sure what just happened. One minute they’d been arguing and the sexual tension had been intense. Seriously, off-the-charts, over-the-top, rip their clothes off passion smoldered between them. She’d thought he’d been one moment and a lunge away from kissing her senseless.
The next, he’d shut down.
No simmering lust shadowed his already hard features. And the caveman move she’d been expecting was history. She might not have sex often but even she had noticed the hunger that sizzled in the air. Her mouth had gone dry, her sex had clenched, and her nipples were hard stiff peaks against her damp cotton shirt.
She’d been a heartbeat away from rubbing her breasts against his hard chest just to find some relief from the aching sexual pressure building inside her. She craved detonation.
Then as if he had flipped a switch, all that desire and pull just…vanished. Sheer loathing had hardened his muscles and transformed his features and he’d reverted to the gruff, surly man from her mother’s living room. The misery in his intoxicating dark rum gaze was a palpable, seething force.
The sense of lo
ss—for what? She wasn’t even sure—was consuming.
“It’s best that you go now.” Hopefully her mother was still asleep and Shasa could go back inside the house and curl into a fetal ball. She was a damn mess.
“No can do,” he said brusquely.
“Excuse me?”
“Your mother was correct. You have an uncommon strength. And I need your skills.”
Tension hummed inside her. In the background, she registered the rushing water of the Columbia River. Her ever looming fear of large bodies of water warred with the urge to venture closer as if the flowing current were a magnet and she was iron.
“I can’t help you.” She preferred the sexual tension to this continuing insistence that she had some magical power.
“Your dowsing ability is necessary.”
The angel thing again. Shasa stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She needed to shut him down so he would leave and she could forget this attraction thing. She did not have time to be attracted to someone who was crazy. She had her own damn problems. “Stop with the angel delusions.”
“These are not delusions,” Zach denied. “You are a human Angel.”
He didn’t raise his voice but she could sense his irritation rising. Well, right there with you pal.
“And you’re what? The evil overlord? Come. On.”
“I am Zachariel, Archangel of Forgiveness,” he said imperiously.
“Oh, so you’re a some sort of super angel?” she snarked. “And you live in an ice castle on some faraway planet and kryptonite is your weakness?”
He narrowed his gaze, no comprehension in his eyes as he stared her down. “Where I live is not important.”
Cagey. But she decided to humor him. “And what is your power?”
“I have command over water and the ability to ease the soul.”
Forgiveness? She stared at his ruthless face, dark brows, and shadowed eyes. He did not fit her vision of easygoing tolerance. “Really?” She knew her tone was derisive but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
