Cabin Fever

by Alisha Rai

  “You know for what. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was wrong and cruel, and I apologize. Can you forgive me?”

  Genevieve studied him, looking for the catch. What the hell? His gaze was direct, his expression open. Sincerity dripped off of him. She couldn’t help but be suspicious. “What’s your angle?”

  “No angle. I was wrong.”

  She shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Seriously. You saved my life, and I paid you back by treating you like I was scared of you.”

  “You are scared of me.” She meant for the words to be low and a bit threatening, not the plaintive statement it came out as.

  His response was instantaneous. “No. I was pissed when you did what you did, though I get that it was for my own good. But I knew from the start something was extraordinary about you, so I wasn’t completely blindsided. As I was lying here, my mind cleared and I was finally able to put all the pieces together.”

  Extraordinary? “I took your strength away. Do you get that?”

  “After you gave it to me, right?”

  Yeah, that was the only way she’d been able to weaken him without it hurting her. If she’d weakened or injured him on purpose, she would have been charged a greater price. Still, he shouldn’t know that. “I’ve hurt people before. Your first reaction was right. Keep that in mind before you start romanticizing me.”

  “You won’t hurt me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I trust you.”

  His words were so simple, they stunned her. “Why the hell would you go and do that?”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. There’s this…connection between us. Don’t you feel it?”

  Yes. Hell, yes. “So you’re telling me on the basis of your…feelings…you’re going to decide I’m a trustworthy person. Despite the fact that I can do stuff that isn’t readily explainable. Is this how you do all your cop stuff?”

  He smiled. “You mean, am I a naïve fool? I don’t think so. But I’m willing to bet my life you couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  She froze. “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t make that bet. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  He studied her, and his voice gentled, as if he were talking to a spooked animal. “Okay. How’s this? I bet you couldn’t hurt me. You saved me. You’re a healer, aren’t you? What else can you do?”

  When she remained silent, he exhaled. “You don’t trust me. I’m really just interested. You know, I’m a Hispanic mutt. My dad was Puerto Rican. Mother is Columbian, Brazilian and Costa Rican. Our culture lives and breathes supernatural stuff. You don’t know how many stories I was told over the years about my grandmamma and my aunt. They were healers too.”

  A spike of interest rose. She’d never met anyone, outside of her own family, with legitimate powers. “Yeah?”

  “Yes. They worked as midwives. My cousin, she still lives in Puerto Rico, carries on their work. Though I don’t believe any of them are anywhere near as powerful as you are. They’ve certainly never saved anyone from a fatal injury.”

  The admiration in his gaze was so unexpected, she didn’t quite know what to say. Nobody had ever accepted her. In high school she’d been the freak, in college and after she’d kept her abilities tightly under wraps, and when she’d moved back…well, that had effectively turned the people who’d considered her a freak into people who used her to scare their kiddies into behaving.

  He must have mistaken her contemplation, for he lay back against the pillows and sighed. “Do it.”

  “What?”

  “Do it again. Whatever you did before. Make me weak.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to understand that I do not fear you or find you disgusting. I will never hurt you. I owe you everything, and I’m ready to swear on my father’s grave I won’t harm you. However, if you feel threatened or nervous around me—and don’t tell me you’re not wary of me—I give you full permission to make me weak again. Now or whenever.”

  She stared at him, stunned. The fact he was willing to voluntarily give up his strength, submit to her mercy, for no other reason than to make up for her hurt feelings and make her feel safe—her, a woman he barely knew—it was just unbelievable. She’d never heard of such a thing.

  She didn’t bother trying to see his aura. For the first time in her life, she wondered if she could trust someone from their words alone. “You mean that?”

  “I would have died without you.”

  All right, that solemn, devoted look was a bit too much for her. “You’re exaggerating. You weren’t really that bad off. If you were, I wouldn’t have been able to do a thing.”

  “So you are admitting you did something?”

  What the hell. His little-boy eagerness was so damn endearing she could barely resist eating him up with a spoon. “Yeah. I’ll admit it.”

  “That’s…amazing. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not of this magnitude. Plus, my abilities have been on the blink for a few years.”

  “Think of what you could do for those who are suffering—”

  “Stop right there.” She held up her hand. “You said you owe me, right?”

  A guarded look crossed his face. “Yes.”

  “I want to collect. I need your vow that you won’t tell anyone else about me. You can tell them I’m fearsome, that I can kill men with a single look, but not about the rest of it.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated, but decided she could give him a little bit of the truth. “My safety depends on it. Right now, most people in your town fear me. They call me a witch and stay away. I’ve encouraged that for reasons of my own. If you blab that I’m pulling in strays and mending them, then I don’t know who would come out here and try to hurt me.”

  His face darkened. “Nobody will hurt you.”

  “The best way to ensure that is for you to keep quiet about me. You can say you came across an abandoned cabin or whatever you want. Just don’t mention me.”

  “Deal. Though I will not consider my debt paid, since this is such a small thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a small thing to me.”

  “One thing though—I’d rather you not go outside. Especially if you make me weak like I was before. Whoever shot me could still be out there.”

  She stiffened. “You said it was a hunter.”

  “What’s to stop an unscrupulous hunter from coming and poaching out here?”

  Nothing. And if it was someone who wasn’t familiar with her reputation…aww, fuck. “I’ll do my best to stay inside,” she allowed. She couldn’t let the animals go hungry.

  “Okay, then. Do it if you want.”

  She should have been thrilled at this opportunity. He’d be alive, still healing, but no threat at all to her, physically or emotionally. When the phone came back online, she could call someone out here to get him to a hospital to receive proper care. She’d be on her own, the way she liked it.

  She couldn’t do it, though. Couldn’t emasculate him like that. No matter how much he unnerved her.

  As she stared at him, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. He wasn’t bluffing, which meant he trusted her enough to put himself at her mercy. Perhaps she could try trusting him back?

  She hadn’t trusted anyone in three years. What a novel feeling. He had given his word not to blab all over town about her and she believed him. He said he wouldn’t hurt her, and she couldn’t see him raising a hand to her. Was she being foolish? Maybe. But she liked this, liked the easiness and lack of worry that came from being able to let go of the constant fear. Honestly, Genevieve wasn’t even sure she knew how to trust anymore. Maybe he’d been sent here for her to…relearn?

  It was too much for her to think about all at once, the ideas overwhelming her. She broke their gaze and stood. “Are you hungry?”

  “Genevieve…”

  “Are. You. Hungry?”

  “Please,
yes.”

  She crossed to the fridge and pulled out the makings for dinner. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast either. “Do you like chicken?”

  “Love it.”

  “Great. Just wrung this one’s neck yesterday.”

  At his silence, she looked over her shoulder and slammed the fridge closed with her hip. “Is there a problem?”

  He swallowed. “No. I wish you hadn’t told me where that chicken came from, though.”

  “You mean this chicken?” She held up the meat in her hands. A little imp of mischief prompted her to speak. “Sorry, does it bother you that I pick it up from the pen, grab its neck and twist it until it snaps?”

  Alex closed his eyes. “Actually, I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Where do you think meat comes from?”

  “I think the meat fairy puts it in my grocery store.”

  She laughed, a bit startled. It had been a while since she’d heard herself laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. The meat fairy doesn’t come out this far.” She proceeded to put dinner together.

  When she brought his bowl of broth over to him, he looked at it with dismay. “Are you punishing me?”

  She wasn’t that petty. Okay, she was, but she wasn’t mad at him, so no, she wasn’t punishing him. “You need to build your strength.”

  “I’ll build it a lot easier if you give me real food.”

  “You can eat this, or nothing. Your choice.”

  He glared at her, but she had no intention of budging. Especially now that she had an inkling of what a marshmallow he was beneath his scary job and huge physique. Sure enough, when she started to turn around, bowl in hand, he breathed out a rough sigh. “Okay, fine. Give it to me.”

  Alex sat up on his own and took it from her with ill grace. She returned to the stove and ladled some of the soup and chicken into her bowl. She ate standing over the sink. Blessedly, he didn’t speak much, as if sensing her contemplative mood. When he was finished, she washed both of their dishes.

  “You don’t have any psychic powers, do you?”

  She cast a startled glance over her shoulder. He spoke about her abilities with the same kind of casual tone someone would use to ask if she had blue eyes. “What? No. Why?”

  “Guess I couldn’t be that lucky. I was just thinking of how worried sick my mom must be. She’s listed as my next of kin. I’m sure they called her when I didn’t show up to work, if not the next day, then Monday for sure.”

  Her heart softened at the worry and concern in his voice. “You sound close to her.”

  “My dad died when I was twelve. She raised us by herself. It was hard enough to move down here when she was still in Westchester. I can’t even imagine what she must be going through, thinking I’m lying somewhere dead.”

  “My mom raised me by herself too.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  He paused. “Yeah? Did your dad die too?”

  “No. I never knew him.” Genevieve wiped her hands on a towel and turned around. “I wish there was some way to get word down.”

  “Yeah, well. What can you do, right? Like I said, I’ve probably hit my quota for miracles this week. You know, with the gorgeous woman saving my life and all.”

  Her face flushed at the warmth and clear sexual interest in his tone and smile, but she disguised her flustered state with a toss of her head. She walked over to her small cupboard and pulled out a blanket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need a blanket. I have a couch out there. That’s where I’ll sleep.” Their eyes met, and by the wicked glint in his eyes, Genevieve knew he must recall exactly where she’d slept that first night. To her relief, though, he didn’t bring it up.

  “You’re going to bed?”

  She shrugged. “I thought you might want to sleep. Figured I would read for a while.”

  “Could you read out here?” He grimaced. “I’m not tired, and I think I’ll go crazy if I have to lie out here by myself. It’s so damn quiet outside.”

  “City boy. You aren’t used to the quiet?” Yet another difference between them. She loved the solitude.

  Okay, so it got a bit trying sometimes. The pros outweighed the cons.

  “Not at all.”

  It was a small enough concession to make. Honestly, she didn’t want to leave his presence just yet. “Fine. Do you want something to read too?”

  “I don’t think I could concentrate. Could you read to me?”

  “Um. I guess so. What would you like to read?” She tucked the blanket under her arm and went over to her bookshelf.

  “Whatever you were planning on is fine.”

  She tossed a wry glance over her shoulder. “All of my new releases are romances. I doubt you’ll be interested.”

  He shrugged. “That sounds fine. I like romances.”

  Genevieve snorted. The idea of this man’s man reading a book with heaving bosoms on the cover was laughable at best. “Seriously?”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Are you kidding me? We didn’t have Playboys lying around for me to discover as an adolescent—I got a nice education from the Harlequins my mom read.” His brow wrinkled. “Though I do remember wondering why so many virgins appealed to Greek tycoons.”

  She laughed. That made twice now. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d become downright jolly around him. “I think that’s a question for the ages.” She perused her latest stack of books and chose the least explicit-looking one. The last thing she needed to do was read him something erotic or sexy.

  Genevieve stoked the fire and then sat cross-legged next to him. She opened the book but had a bit of trouble concentrating on the writing when he shifted to get comfortable. The firelight played over the muscles of his chest, and she was abruptly reminded of his nakedness below the sheet.

  Get over it. Genevieve opened the book and began to read. Other than her voice, the room was silent except for their breathing and the crackle of the fire.

  It was a peaceful feeling, and she slipped into the rhythm and pace of the story, everything fading around her until she became absorbed. She’d only read to her mother when she was sick, and she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

  When the log gave a particularly loud crack, she jumped, pulled out of the book. She was surprised to note how many chapters she’d read, that her throat was hoarse. She looked down at Alex, certain he’d fallen asleep.

  Instead, his gaze was direct on hers, wide and unblinking. “Are you tired?” he rumbled.

  She shook her head.

  “Why did you stop?”

  Could a voice be intimate? He used that tone, that low, deep tone, and Genevieve felt like he’d reached out and nibbled on her neck. “My throat hurts.”

  He shifted. “Maybe we should stop for tonight then.”

  Stop for tonight. As if they had endless nights to pick the story up. She closed the book.

  “You have a beautiful voice. I could listen to it for hours.”

  Had she thought he sounded intimate before? He’d gone straight from kissing her neck to stroking between her legs with that little statement. “Thanks.” She started to get up but was startled to feel his fingers wrap around her wrist.

  “Why don’t you sleep here?”

  She could practically feel his body tight against hers. Her body tensed. Despite her best efforts, heat stained her cheeks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “No sex.”

  Unable to help herself, she glanced at his lap. No erection tented the sheet. He followed her gaze and grimaced. “Not like I’m able, right? It’s not you, it’s me. Trust me, my flesh is just a little on the weak side right now. If I was at full speed, watching you drink soup would have gotten me hard.”

  Genevieve stared at him, not quite sure what to respond with. Was he trying to…reassure her?

  “I’m screwing this up, right?” He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed in a gust of noise. “I’m not a suav
e guy, but normally I’m not this stupid. Look, I’m not going to lie, I find you really attractive. But I wouldn’t pounce on you even if I could get it up. I’m not into force. Hell, you can even make me weak if you want, like I offered before.”

  He was so damn direct. For a girl who hated games and liars, it was a refreshing change. Genevieve raised her chin. “I’m not scared of you. It wouldn’t take me long to fight you off if I didn’t want you.” The key word being if. Because if she was really confronted with a gorgeous, amorous Alex who wanted her, she didn’t know if she was principled enough to refuse him, quite honestly. “I, um, just really like my couch. So…good night.”

  He watched her go with such disappointment, she was beyond tempted to run right back into his arms. What was up with this guy? Yes, part of it was that inexplicable physical chemistry. But the scary thing was that emotional conduit that had opened earlier between them.

  They were thrown together in a cozy little situation here. She needed to be the responsible, levelheaded one, since he clearly wasn’t into that role. His laid-back, flirtatious personality was damn attractive.

  She tried to remind herself of that for the next four hours as she tossed and turned on the lumpy couch in her sunroom. The back room was colder than the main area of the cabin, partly because it lacked a fireplace, but mostly because the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows faced a winter wonderland.

  Oh, and there was no naked hunk to curl up next to. That definitely made a difference in terms of warmth.

  She heaved a rough sigh and tried to count the individual snowflakes as they fell down. She’d gotten up to about a hundred when a low moan interrupted her.

  Without a second thought, she leapt out of bed and darted into the front room, certain Alex had hurt himself. When he was within her sights, she pulled up short. He wasn’t in severe pain, but he would be if he kept thrashing around like that. The moans were spilling from his half-open mouth with increasing frequency, his brow furrowed. He was uttering words, but they were so low and disjointed she had no idea what he was saying.

  Genevieve approached him cautiously, not wanting to scare him or jolt him too hard out of whatever nightmare he was caught in. She knelt next to him and grabbed his uninjured shoulder, giving him the slightest of shakes. “Alex. Wake up. You’re okay.”