by Grey, Shanon
Morgan afforded her little more than a glance, since Jenn had already explained that “Uncle Mike” had been instructed to keep an eye on her. As a doctor, he had access to her medical records. Having a niece her age, and in college, definitely was an advantage. Of course, he was taking a chance, not knowing if they would get along. He’d figured everyone got along with Jenn, why not Morgan? Jenn, being none the wiser, relayed information home, and Mike’s sister was always more than willing to discuss her daughter and her daughter’s best friend with her brother. The good doctor then relayed the information to Abbott House and they, in turn, passed it on to the Kilravens.
Morgan wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole situation. She was feeling a bit down, but she wasn’t sure she could attribute it to plans to keep tabs on her. Thinking logically, it made sense. If Melissa and Thomas cared as much about her as they indicated, she could see them going to great lengths to make sure she was well and happy. She shuddered—to be watched all of one’s life and be unaware of it. She ran her hand over the back of her neck. It felt clammy. Maybe she was coming down with something. That, too, would be a first. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life.
“So, tomorrow…hiking or boating? Uncle Mike mentioned that he’s got a bass boat in a little boathouse around the bend.”
“Let’s play it by ear, okay.”
“You okay?” Jenn turned and looked at Morgan. Then she squinted at her, reached over and put her hand on her forehead. “You don’t look so good, girlfriend. Maybe we ought to head inside.”
“I’m just tired. It’s gotten a bit chilly out here as well.” She stood with some difficulty. “What’d you say we put on jammies and watch a movie?”
“Let’s make it something funny, okay. I don’t particularly want to burst into tears tonight.” Jenn took Morgan arm as they started up the path.
“Still nothing from Jim?” Morgan patted Jenn’s hand.
“Nope. Not a word. I don’t expect to, either. He said, and I quote, ‘I’m tired of playing second fiddle. I know what you do is important, but I should be, too.’ About that moment my phone rang and I had to dash off to an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, Jenn. I know you love him.”
“Loved, Morgan.” Jenn’s voice was almost a whisper. “If he can’t understand that what I do can’t be scheduled, then…” she let her voice drift into the night.
Morgan squeezed Jenn’s arm. “Then funny it is,” she assured her.
“I’d say it sounds like a plan. There’s nothing we have to do, except relax.” They trudged up the trail back to the cabin. Inside, as Morgan went into her bedroom—the cabin had three—Jenn called after her, “I’m going to take a moment to call and check on Meadow.” She walked into her own room and closed the door.
Morgan walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. As she wet a cloth, she looked at her reflection. She did look pale, more than usual. Waves of sadness washed through her. She wrapped she arms across her stomach. Dorian. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She grabbed the counter and turned off the water, hoping to stem the sadness overwhelming her. She ached. Was he all right? What was he doing? Did he miss her?
She made her way slowly into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Maybe if she rested for just a moment. She fell sideways onto the pillow and, with her last bit of effort, kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs onto the bed….
“It’s okay, sweet baby, I’ll take care of you.” Dorian whispered in her ear. Morgan shifted to make room for him. She felt his warmth as he lay next to her. “I know it’s bad, love. Let me take away the ache.” His breath brushed over her mouth and cheek. She felt the warm tingling sensation move through her body as his hand hovered just above her skin, letting the current flow, yet not quite touching her. She felt her blood heat and her pulse deepen, its beat coursing through her veins. She felt the ache to her core, wanting him inside. She arched. The hot current eddied in her abdomen and spread outward—down. She shifted her legs. Her breathing became shallow. “Let it go, my angel.” She heard his deep voice resonate against her hair. “Give me your desire.”
Morgan stretched. The sun filtered through the blinds and across the bed. She sat up. She was still wearing the jeans and sweater she’d had on last night. A small blanket lay across her. Her door was closed.
“Dorian?” she called. Birds chirping outside the window were the only response.
She remembered the dream and bolted upright. She had never had such an erotic dream. She still lay on the side of the bed where she’d fallen asleep. The other side was undisturbed. It seemed so real. She knew her response had been real. A hallucination brought on by fever. Possibly. She felt better than she did yesterday. Maybe she’d had a fever after all. A twenty-four hour bug.
“Jenn?” she called out.
Morgan walked into the main room of the cabin. Jenn’s door was closed. She eased open the door in case Jenn was still asleep. The quilt was pulled taut, the pillows positioned just so. Jenn’s bag sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Jenn?” Morgan looked in the bathroom and then walked into the kitchen. A crisp piece of paper, folded in half, rested in front of the coffee pot.
I didn’t want to wake you. You dropped like a brick last night. I got an urgent call. Don’t I always? It shouldn’t take too long. Hope to be back by late afternoon. You’ve got my cell number. There’s plenty of food. Relax. You need it. Love, Jenn
****
Jasmine blinked once, trying to focus out of her swollen eyes. She licked her lip and tasted her own blood. Her arm was numb, pulled taut over her head and chained to a timber. Her other arm lay at her side, useless, the excruciating pain intensifying when she attempted the slightest movement. The dirt and rocks beneath her dug into her flesh. The cold from the ground seeped into her bones. She shivered and listened. How long had she been out? Was she alone? Please, God, let her be alone. Using her bare feet to gain leverage, she tried to push herself up into a sitting position. She felt the dirt grate between the cheeks of her bare buttocks and winced. She shifted her legs and felt the drying stickiness pull on her thighs. Tears fell from her swollen eyes. Her breath, when she inhaled, was shaky—shallow. Her chest hurt. The torn sleeve of her blouse pulled on her injured arm. Her breast was tender. A shuffling sound came from somewhere nearby. She stopped moving and tried to remain very still, listening. She whimpered, forced her lips together to keep the sound from escaping. She didn’t want to draw his attention. Then she remembered—he was gone—at least for a while. Blackness began to overtake her. She didn’t care. She let it.
****
Morgan scooped fresh coffee grounds into the basket, pressed the button, and sat at the breakfast bar, anticipating the aroma. Poor Jenn. Jim had seemed so understanding, so encouraging. He wasn’t the first that’d had trouble being second to Jenn’s dedication. He probably wouldn’t be the last. A sense of pride welled inside for her friend. Jenn had sworn she would help the helpless and she had. She hadn’t lost a woman or family yet. She’d had to do some convincing at times, but she was the best at that.
She picked up her phone. It was off. She went to her suitcase, then her purse. No charger. Damn. In her hurry, she must have left it in Ruthorford. A chill went through her. No car. No phone. She looked around. No house phone. This was just great.
Gurgles from the coffee pot beckoned. She grabbed a mug, inhaled the rich aroma as it filled the mug, and carried it over to browse through haphazardly arranged books. She picked up one by Jane Austen.
Morgan pored through Jane Austen, took a long shower, lounged on the dock, and meandered around the lot. She didn’t want to stray too far since she couldn’t find a key. Not that she feared anyone breaking in. They were pretty isolated. She didn’t have a clue how far the next cabin was. And, with the school year having started, she doubted many families were heading up this way.
Dorian kept drifting into her thoughts. When she was sitting on the dock, the skin on her arms
tingled, like it did sometimes when he would walk near her. She looked around, half expecting him to come sauntering down the path—wanting him to come sauntering down the path. It took some real concentration for her to remember why she’d left—his lack of faith in her. As the day progressed, Morgan replayed the conversations over in her mind. She could see where he would be concerned, not knowing her. But, they had just made love, for God’s sake. And it had been making love, not just sex. The word “love” played across her mind. She tested it, weighed it, then forced it from her mind.
When Jenn didn’t appear by dinner, she finished off the chicken salad and put a movie in the DVD. Forced relaxation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It didn’t take long for her to drift off. She awoke to the sound of gravel crunching outside.
“Jenn must be back,” she said softly and was startled at the sound her voice made in the quiet. She got up and looked outside. The Tahoe wasn’t in the drive. She glanced around. Maybe she’d dreamed it. She locked the front door, closed all the blinds, and turned the movie back on. Her ears listened for every sound and her heart pounded at the slightest noise.
When the lights flickered, Morgan froze. She hadn’t heard thunder. Grabbing the clicker, she switched from the DVD to the television. The room plunged into darkness. Oh God. She listened. She heard bugs chirping outside. Her eyes began adjusting to the blackness. She blinked. She began to take in the room. Shit. She remembered her eyes glowed. She eased off the couch and tried to remember where she’d put her purse. Those stupid sunglasses would shield her eyes. Finding it on the bar chair, she fumbled around inside until she felt the glasses.
She heard a creak.
Morgan squatted to the floor, shoving on the glasses. Everything went dark. Damn it, the glasses screwed up her night vision. She moved on her hands and knees around the bar.
Another creak. She stilled, listening.
A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Before she could scream, a cloth covered her mouth. She struggled and was jerked backwards, twisting her foot beneath her. Pain shot up her leg, yet she couldn’t get her leg out from under her. Her limbs felt heavy. Dorian, she concentrated every fiber of her being on him. …help me. The world fell away.
****
John saw the drink drop from Dorian’s hand, reached out and grabbed it before it hit the ground. Tea splashed across his shirt, yet Dorian remained still, staring off.
“Dorian?” John set the cup down. “Hey, man. You okay?”
Dorian blinked. He looked at John, his brow furrowed. He concentrated, then spoke, “She’s gone.”
“Yeah. That’s why we came to Virginia.”
“No.” Dorian reached out and clasped the other man’s forearm. “She’s gone. Dropped from my radar.” Agitated, he marched back and forth in front of the outside bar where they’d stopped to grab something to eat.
Having been friends with Dorian for most of his life, John knew to wait. Illumination would follow, eventually.
“We’re paired.” Dorian ran his hand through his hair. “I can feel her. I can’t feel her.” His wild eyes focused on John.
“Hey, congratulations.” John got the paired part, first.
Dorian grabbed his arm again. “Pay attention, John. I cannot feel her.”
The message sank in. “Her parents said she was with Jenn,” he reminded Dorian. They went away to relax. Maybe they got drunk and she passed out.”
Dorian shook his head. “No, this is different.”
John pulled the small phone from his pocket and searched through numbers. “Jenn gave me a number to call if I needed to reach her.” He dialed. When it went to voice-mail, he ran through some more numbers and dialed another one. “This is the security number for the home where Meadow’s staying.”
“Hey, this is John Davis. I’m Kayla’s cousin—”
“John?” Jenn voice came through the phone. John looked at Dorian. Dorian couldn’t stand still. He kept looking around the surrounding street.
“Jenn? I thought you were with Morgan?” John hit a button and Jenn’s voice, albeit tinny, came through loud. Dorian stopped pacing, his attention riveted on the small phone.
“I was. I got called in. Someone tried to hack into our system. She’s at the cabin, probably bored out of her skull by now.” Jenn laughed. “What’s up?”
John thought for a moment on how to present this to Jenn. “Dorian thinks something happened to Morgan. He can’t reach her.”
“I tried earlier. It keeps going to her voicemail. I bet she forgot to charge her phone. I was getting ready to head out myself—”
John’s and Dorian’s simultaneous “No!” stopped her.
John spoke. “Don’t leave. Make sure everything’s secure.” It was a command. “Give me the address.”
Jenn voice was quieter, very controlled. “What’s going on?”
John hesitated for a moment. “Dorian and Morgan have a connection of some sort. Psychically, I think. It suddenly broke. He can’t find her.”
Dorian hissed through clinched teeth, “It’s not like I misplaced my damn wallet.”
Jenn voice sounded muffled. Then she was back. She spouted the cabin’s address. “Someone’s trying again…” she yelled at someone behind her, “gotta run. I’ll wait to hear from you.” She hung up.
John looked at Dorian. “I don’t like this.”
They were racing toward the truck. “Where’s Jenn’s from here?” Dorian asked.
“About ten minutes. Less, maybe.”
“I’m dropping you off there. I’ll be in touch.”
John guided Dorian through the streets toward the safe house. To make sure they weren’t being followed, they maneuvered through some side streets a couple of times. They still made it in under eight minutes. As they pulled in front of tall, iron gates, security lights flashed on. John stepped out of the truck and turned back.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No. You stay with Jenn. Since I don’t know what’s going on, I want to make sure you’re there for Jenn and Meadow.”
“Call if you need me,” John shouted. Dorian was already moving as the truck door slammed.
The GPS had him arriving in about an hour. “Let’s see if we can cut that down a bit,” he commented to the device attached to the windshield of the truck.
Every so often Dorian would try to concentrate on Morgan. It was ironic. Her presence in his mind had become so natural he barely noticed it. Not so in the beginning. The hint of recognition had hit him the moment she’d walked in the door of the shop that day, her red hair flaming around her. However, he’d been too angry, too determined not to be waylaid by those embedded traits—the recognition of his match, his mate—to pay attention. The only thing he’d think about was the fact that he didn’t want his future dictated, yet he knew that it was.
When they’d come together to open the portal, the first tendrils, although invisible, had linked. Those invisible threads had strengthened again when they did it the second time. Their kiss, hot and demanding as it was, further cemented their connection and his fate. He’d been so damned determined to fight it.
In the grotto, he’d known. He’d seen her essence vibrate under his touch and he’d wanted her. He’d wanted them.
Warmth shot through him as he remembered her touch on his body, tentative though it had been. He smiled remembering her blush and how he’d watched desire push away her shyness.
He now used those feelings to focus on her, sending out a call, hoping for an answer. There was none. It was as though she’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
Dorian hit the brakes and turned hard to the left, skidding on the gravel. It was pitch black. There was no moon to help guide him. He inched the truck forward, trying to stay on the narrow gravel path and see in front of him. A pine limb brushed the top of the truck. He edged over to the right, barely staying on the path. Suddenly, the path fanned out and the high beams spotlighted the cabin. It looke
d deserted. He shut off the engine, left the lights on and grabbed a flashlight.
The truck door slamming shut resounded in the dark. He listened for the crickets. Gradually, their chirping started back up, as did the croaks of the toads. Not fond of the exposure he had in the light, he shifted off to the left until he was at the door and had no choice but to step into the glare of the high beams. The knob turned easily in his grasp and the planked door edged forward. It was unlocked. He moved his hand in, felt for the switches and hit every one he could reach simultaneously. Nothing happened.
He pulled back. Using the flashlight, he moved around the side of the cabin, looking for a breaker box. He’d almost completed a circle of the cabin when he found it—open. The main had been tripped. He reset the breaker and quietly moved back around the cabin. Light poured out of the windows.
A quick scan of the place told him it was highly unlikely that anyone was there. A bar stool was knocked over, a book on the floor. An end table lamp lay on the couch. She didn’t go without a struggle. His blood ran cold. Stop it. Don’t do this. It won’t help. He took a deep breath, went through the cabin, then ran back to the truck and turned off the lights. He didn’t need to get stranded as well.
Dorian dialed John as he re-entered the cabin. As he crossed the threshold, something pricked his brain. A tiny twinge. It didn’t feel like Morgan, but it was something familiar.
“She’s not here,” he spat out as soon as John answered. “It’s been tossed and it looks like she put up a fight.” He walked through the room, slower this time. On the kitchen side of the bar, he saw her purse on the floor, emptied. Her phone lay next to it. He picked it up. It was dead. “Damn it, Morgan, where are you?” he muttered.
“What? Did you find her?”
“No. Sorry. I was talking to myself,” which reminded him of the feeling he had when he crossed the threshold. He walked back over to the door and stepped through. The same feeling assailed him. “Let me call you back,” he said and closed the phone. He backed up, kept stepping back until the feeling went away. He stepped forward again. Like a human Geiger counter, he eased this way and that, looking all around him. Something sparkled near the door. He knelt down. A small crystal.
