The heat of his hands warmed her, seemed to course through her bloodstream. Fuming, she pushed him away. She might have given up on negotiating with him on ‘her terms’ but she needed to collect herself, process all she’d seen and heard. “Agreed. I’m going to shower and hang up these wet clothes. Leave me alone. And then I’ll tell you. In my own damn good time.” She stalked to the bathroom.
“Meda?”
She turned, eyed him. “What?”
“Thank you. For coming with me. For helping me with Walt and Phyllis. If you hadn’t created that distraction, it might not have ended so well for them.”
“You’re damn right it wouldn’t have. And you’re welcome. Now leave me alone.” She slammed the door.
She shucked off her boots, peeled off her jeans and tank top, her underwear and bra. Hung everything up. Turning on the shower, she stood under its measly spray and wept. She’d be damned if she’d do it in front of him.
He’d invaded her life, stripped her of every ounce of control and privacy she possessed. She’d been all business since they’d left New York. The effort had drained her, as had exhaustion and fear. She longed for Musko and the easy familiarity they shared. For Tan, to wrap her arms around him.
She cried until the water turned lukewarm, then cold. Turning off the spray, she stepped out, pleased on some juvenile level she’d used all of the hot water. Wrapping herself in a towel, a grudging acceptance of what her life had become in the space of a few short hours settled over her. Dev had a job to do. She didn’t have to like his methods, but she couldn’t blame him for trying to do it.
Some things simply were. She knew that. And she’d gain nothing by fighting it. Time was short. She hated that he was right. She did need to tell him everything. If for nothing else, to protect herself. God knew how the Vitality stone might continue to affect her ability.
Always, that single thing defined her. Everything would change the minute she told him. She’d gotten used to being seen as a freak, a lifetime of feeling like someone’s tool. Would he try to force her to use it, to further his own ends? The part of her that was ‘Mia’ warred with the part of her that was her father’s daughter. Flight, or fight?
Either way, she’d get through this, same as she had everything else. One day at a time. For the next six days. Then mercifully, she would forget.
Using the heel of her hand, she wiped the mirror clear of steam. Logically plodding forward, one foot in front of the other, didn’t take into account the way he made her feel.
And he makes me feel.
Lots of things she’d slammed the door on three years ago. But most of all, alive. She longed to thread her fingers through the lock of hair that curled around the nape of his neck. To press herself against the wall of muscle that was his back. To grip his hands in hers the way he did the bike’s handlebars. Oh, she’d had a helluva view, even from the back, for the one hundred odd miles they’d driven. What would he say if he knew being on his bike, her arms wrapped around his waist, was the closest she’d been to a man in those three years?
It was easy to shut down strangers at the bar. Dev made that impossible, clobbering her with a charisma that filled the room. He was maddening in one breath, wickedly sexy and charming in the next. Flat-out unapologetic about what he wanted, needed. What he did and said.
She’d felt the sparks since he’d strode into her bar. But there couldn’t be anything between them. And what she would reveal would ensure there never would be. If her heart broke a little with that knowledge, she ignored it. Again, she reminded herself some things simply were.
Wrapping her hair in another towel, she opened the door and stepped into the room.
He sat on one side of the bed, the bedspread draped loosely around him. He shifted, and so did the spread, revealing his bare chest. He’d hung his jeans, underwear, and shirt over the backs of the chairs. “Wrap up in that. Get warm,” he suggested, pointing to a blanket.
“Don’t get any ideas, Geary.”
He widened his eyes. “No. None.”
She didn’t trust that angelic expression for a minute, and wondered how many other women had been undone by it. Altogether, the shower, crying, fatigue, and the food had taken the sting out of her anger. It’d be easier to stay mad at him if he was a jerk. But he’d turned caregiver on her, helping her to the bed, bringing her junk food, being a gentleman.
Snatching the blanket from the bed, she went back into the bathroom, shed her towels and wrapped herself in it, head to toe.
“I need some air,” she said, shuffling into the room. She shoved open a window that might’ve once been painted shut, and then swelled with the humidity. Steamy as it was, she reveled in the air. Wind and rain lashed the aging motel, located in the middle of nowhere. Settling herself on the other side of the bed, the mattress creaked.
He waited, she knew, for her to begin.
“I’ll answer your questions,” she said quietly. “Tell you what you want to know. That works both ways. Got it?”
“Got it.”
The betrayal, the hurts and embarrassments of a lifetime reared up inside Meda. Memories overran her, of being the odd one out, of having to distance herself. Of never really being able to let her guard down. As a child. And as an adult. Of never being understood. Of what she’d sacrificed. And mostly, of what she’d lost that could never be replaced. She ran a thumb along her jaw, along the ridge of a scar that served as a constant reminder of that loss. “You wouldn’t understand what my life is like,” she began.
Silently, he inclined his head, his eyes as deep and green as a forest. “Try me.”
She gathered the blanket around herself. “When I touch people,” she said slowly, “I get impressions. I know things about them. It’s a gift. A curse. I’ve decided on ‘ability.’ You might have heard the terms ‘clairsentient,’ or ‘psychometry.’ They describe it in some ways. I’m twenty-three years old and I’ve never been able to fully get a handle on it.” She lifted a hand. “Like Walt, tonight. He was thinking about when he proposed to Phyllis. How much he loved her. About a fight they’d had, about him not bringing the trash in. How silly it was. And how sorry he was.”
As she had so many times before, she distanced herself from the impressions and only relayed the facts.
“It was different this time. With them. The impressions were sharper, clearer than I’ve ever felt. This.” She grabbed the Vitality stone around her neck. “And you.” She pointed at him, accusing. “Both are intensifying it.” She’d spent the better part of three years closing herself off from her ability, and in one day, he’d thrust her into battle.
Her chest heaving, she braced herself for the onslaught of questions, maybe even a few accusations.
His mouth hung open slightly, and for a few moments, the wind and the rain were the only sounds to be heard. “Meda. I wish I would have known about this sooner. Select humans have what you call psychic abilities. That ability, in its purest form, is a form of energy. Of course the Vitality stone is intensifying it. I can help you learn how to control it. In conjunction with the Vitality stone. I didn’t know what consequences there would be for you, as a human. I was concerned about giving it to you, too. The Watchers wouldn’t have let me give it to you if it would harm you. And I still believe that. But knowing this . . .”
Meda sat back, completely disarmed. Hope flooded her. He wants to help me? “It’s not something I go around telling people.”
“No, I don’t imagine you would. You didn’t tell me because you were afraid I’d force you to use it.”
“Maybe,” she said, her face hot. “Yes.”
“I can see that,” he said gruffly. “I’m pretty—”
“Overbearing?” she supplied.
He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t blame you for that. Let me tell you it’s my belief an abilit
y like yours is not something that should be exploited or abused. Of course I want to explore the possibilities. I want to know if your ability is something that can help us with this Compulsion.”
She said nothing.
“Meda, I do understand a little something about having ‘abilities.’”
“Yes, but you have your people, who share those abilities. A community. I don’t have anyone.”
His eyes flickered and a war of emotions played out in them. “You have me.”
Her heart lurched and the mistrust she’d cultivated over a lifetime faltered. What irony. The one person who understood her wasn’t human, she couldn’t get impressions from him, and he’d intensified her ability. Yet if anyone would understand her, it’d be Dev.
Still, mistrust had served her well and she drew on it. “You spoke about harm before. What the hell do you know about it?” she scoffed. “I’ve known things about people I don’t want to know, all my life.” Her temples ached and she rubbed them. “If they’re cheating on their wife. Or if they’re thinking about killing themselves. Or if they’ve been raped.”
Dev lay very still. “Do you ever know good things?”
“Yes.” She hated that tears threatened. “I know if they’re expecting. Or in love. Or happy about a promotion, or proud of their child. Impressions are strange, to say the least. Sometimes they’re just a flash, other times they’re huge, massive, intense. They can swallow me up if I’m not careful. I’ve trained myself to block others’ energy in order to survive. It’s overwhelming to feel impressions from everyone. I have to set boundaries. I meditate, every morning. If I don’t, I’m vulnerable all day. It centers me. And the punching bag helps too.”
She sighed. “You asked before about drinking. I got drunk once. The impressions were too much. No inhibitions, no defenses. That was the first and last time.”
“What about your family? Did they, do they also have this ability?”
“My mother took off when I was young. I don’t remember her very well. No brothers or sisters. My father didn’t have the gift, but he understood it. I’m part Iroquois. He told me his grandmother had the gift. Musko is, was my father’s friend. He doesn’t have the gift, doesn’t truly understand it, but he respects it. And he understands me. Before my father died, he asked Musko to look after me. Protect me.”
“Yes, I imagine there are people who would find ways to try to use your gift for the wrong reasons. I’m glad you’ve got him.”
“Me too.” She thought of Musko, renewing her promise to call him in the morning. “There’s something else you need to know.” She twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. “I don’t get impressions from you.”
Dev nodded, and she could almost hear the gears turning. “That’s why you looked pale in the bar. When I first met you.” He rubbed his palm over his chin.
“Partly. Your . . . energy is potent. And I seem to be very sensitive to it.” She gritted her teeth. “I’ve never fainted in my life, and since you showed up, I almost have. Twice. Just now, and yesterday morning. I felt an influx of energy then. That’s when you . . . crossed realms?” It still sounded strange to her, to use that term.
“Yes. I connected with your energy too. At the bar.”
In spite of herself, she gave a halfhearted laugh. “That’s either the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard, or the absolute truth.”
He grinned back. “Maybe it’s both.” He paused. “I guess we’re a matched set. I can’t read your Vista, as I’ve already told you.”
“I’m not sure why I can’t get impressions from you,” Meda wondered aloud. “I guess it’s because you’re not . . . human. In some ways it scares me. And in others, it’s a relief. Either way, you’ve forced me into uncharted territory.”
“Same here.”
Stroking a finger over her jaw, he inched closer to her. “Your daily life. Your ability. That’s an awful lot for one person to deal with.”
She ordered herself not to melt into his touch. “I manage.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do. You’re an amazing woman, Meda Gabriel,” he whispered, taking measure of her. “So, the whole time you were on the back of my bike, being that close to me, you didn’t get any impressions?” He smoothed her bangs. His breath was warm on her ear, his lips too close to hers. “What if I kissed you?”
Her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she got out.
“You’re absolutely right.” Closing the distance between them, he pressed his mouth to hers.
Soft. Warm. She could’ve stopped him, knew he would. But her lips moved beneath his, sampling, cautious, fearful that impressions would make their way through.
None did.
Normal, a part of her brain registered. And yet the farthest thing from it.
A moan stirred in her throat, and he deepened the kiss. She twined her fingers into that stubborn curl brushing the back of his neck, still damp from the rain. His face, rough with shadow, grazed her cheeks. He tasted like the night, dark and hot. She reveled in him, his warmth exploding around her, through her. A wicked blend of comfort and lust burned bright, searing her, even as warm, wet heat assaulted her. Her breath hitched. She knew now, knew she’d been starving.
And he was the feast.
Dev had already changed her life once, and he’d done it again—this Watcher who’d exploded into her world, and with one kiss, ruined her for any other man.
And who would leave in six days.
He pulled away from her.
Forcing her eyes open, she met his desire-scorched gaze, his confusion plain to see, his features flushed. She could tell he was at a loss. Clearly Dev Geary wasn’t often at a loss.
“This,” he said, his voice strained. “You. Me. That was amazing.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not going to be here long. And we have to work together.”
She nodded, hurt and distance creeping in like a thief. “I know. To do that, we have to be able to trust each other.”
“I trusted you, when I saw you outside the motel office tonight.”
He had. And look what they’d been through in an evening. Some people didn’t do that in a lifetime. Or ever. “I’d say that’s a good start.” Uncomfortable, she shifted in the blanket. “But you and I . . .”
“I should’ve listened to you,” he said shortly. “Probably not a good idea.” Sitting, he moved to the other side of the bed. “I think we better get some sleep.”
It was the smart thing to do. Wasn’t it? He was right. They could trust each other to work together. Beyond that . . .
Oddly enough, the fact that she was human and he wasn’t didn’t freak her out. Rather, it almost felt like she’d been waiting for him.
Though she mourned that piece of her heart she knew he’d already taken, she was good at locking away inconvenient emotions.
Meda cleared her throat and checked her desire. Whatever was happening between them, she’d think about it later. Right now, he owed her details. They could catch up on sleep some other time.
“Oh, no. Not so fast. I’ve told you all of my stuff. You’re going to tell me what I want to know. Starting with what the hell you meant earlier, when I said you could’ve been killed tonight.” She raised an eyebrow. “‘Been there, done that?’”
CHAPTER 12
Dev fell silent for a moment, his senses reeling as he stared at this strange changeling of a woman. Her eyes flashed, demanding answers, while her lips, full and moist, begged to be sucked and kissed and bitten, like the rest of her.
Dear gods. He damn well knew better. The time he had in this realm was severely limited, to find the answers he prayed would ultimately save the clan, and to exact his revenge. The Betrayers were howling right outside their door. Above all, he needed to pro
tect Meda. He couldn’t do that if he was thinking with his little head instead of the big one.
Growling low in his throat, he gathered the bedspread around him, rose, and strode to one of the stiff-backed chairs by the table.
He felt her watching him as he toed the other chair into place so he could stretch out.
“Was it something I said?” she asked drily.
He spared her a glance, bundled in that ratty blanket, her honey skin aglow. “I sleep better sitting up,” he returned.
Becoming involved, as they’d both already agreed, was not a good idea. Minutes ago, it would’ve been so easy to make love, to take pleasure in each other, to revel in the moment. But there was nothing easy about Meda.
They’d talked of trust. He didn’t give it easily, or to many. In the brief time he’d known her, she’d earned it, astounding him with her strength and bravery. She’d called him out at every turn, and he got the feeling there wasn’t much she missed, even without aid of her ability. It was one more reason he wouldn’t allow her to be a fling.
He’d had enough of those.
Dev scrubbed his hands over his face. It seemed in that same brief time, she’d somehow made him want to be a better man. The opportunity he’d wished for had presented itself, and he’d turned it down. Flat.
Don’t take more than you give.
He’d been undone by Meda’s need swirling around him, so like his, and by her incredible strength. By his own desperate desire to possess and protect, to fill the void of loneliness and isolation she must’ve known all her life. To hold on and never let go.
It scared the hell out of him. That, and the irony he had a lot more in common with this human woman than either of them could’ve dared imagine.
He worked his Vitality stone between his fingers. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He glanced at Meda, who waited expectantly. He’d promised her answers at her apartment, and she deserved them. He’d upended every aspect of her life, then forced her to share her most intimate and painful secret. All for good reasons, he told himself. Aren’t I a gem?
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