Gabrielle still didn’t turn when she heard Dustin clear his throat. She flexed her hand, feeling the pain from the cut across her palm throbbing, clearing her mind somewhat.
“Gabrielle.”
She still didn’t turn around, instead wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, clamping down on her sense of fear and anger. She had never liked not being in control of her own life, and the situation she was in was as far from being in control as she could recall ever experiencing.
Of course, if I had been formally abducted, tied up and knocked out… she shuddered at the thought. It was not outside of the realm of possibility, still. There wasn’t a rule that said that the thugs wouldn’t find them just because they were in the deep woods. More to the point, she didn’t know for sure that Dustin wouldn’t do the same to her—or that whoever he represented wouldn’t.
“Come on, Gabrielle. I’m not going to apologize to your back.”
“Why apologize at all? If I ran away, you’d just track me, right?” She wasn’t ready to accept his apology—she couldn’t bring herself to trust it. She let go of her knees and stood, barely glancing over her shoulder at him. “How far would you even let me get, anyway?” Gabrielle took a deep breath, trying to get her thoughts under control.
She started to move away, taking a few quick steps off of the patio and into the clearing. She was taunting him now—she knew she was trying to make him as angry as she was, even if she didn’t know what buttons to push.
“Would you let me get to the woods?” She started to cross the clearing, her anger turning into a kind of bitterness. Before she reached the tree line, she came to a stop, frozen in place, an invisible barrier surrounding her. Gabrielle tried to bring her hands up instinctively to push at it, and her hands were restrained by an invisible force as well, held at her sides.
She let out a frustrated scream; in spite of the fact that she had expected the reaction from him—that she had invited it, goaded it into happening—Gabrielle’s frustration, her fear and anger, rose to the surface.
There was the sound of movement behind her, and Dustin’s hand closed on her shoulder. She was still held firmly in place, trapped in an invisible telekinetic grip.
Gabrielle strained against the hold, wanting—needing—to get away from Dustin once more. Dustin turned her around to face him, keeping her trapped, her body frozen. He tilted her face up slightly so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were more intensely bright than she had ever seen them before, his pupils dilated as he half-scowled and half-stared at her.
“Look. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be keeping you here if it wasn’t an absolute necessity, Gabrielle. You’re in a lot of fucking danger, in case you hadn’t clued in on it. I’m not going to hurt you—and I’m sorry I called you Gabby.”
Gabrielle was torn between a desire to spit in his face … and an equal desire to kiss him. He was so close, she could almost feel his body heat through their clothes. His hand on her shoulder was tight, but not crushing. Her gaze went to his lips, shying away from the intensity of his eyes—and the thought of kissing him hit her so strongly, she would have reeled if she wasn’t immobile. How could she be so powerfully attracted to someone she essentially didn’t trust, who had proven himself high-handed enough to take her autonomy out of the question altogether?
“You just want to make sure I’m cooperative, that I don’t just ignore your bosses outright when they come.” It hit her in a flash—she was reading him. Dimly, but the thought process had entered her mind, not from her own deduction but from some low-level part of his consciousness.
That wasn’t all, she realized, as her perception of his emotions grew. He was attracted to her. He was angry, he was frustrated—and he wanted to kiss her.
Her eyes widened with the realization that she was actually reading him. She wasn’t able to hear his direct thoughts, but she could feel the pulse of emotions in his brain, the imperatives he was working under. It was vague, but it was present.
Dustin’s eyes widened and his hand fell away from her shoulder. She lost the thin tendril of contact with his mind altogether. Gabrielle wasn’t sure whether it was the contact or the power of his own emotions that had made it possible, but even as she reached out, probing and groping for even the barest sense of his mind, it was gone from her, rebuffed.
“Yes, I want you cooperative. And yes, I want you to actually listen to my bosses when they come. But I’m really apologizing. I didn’t realize it would make you so angry. I thought it would tick you off a little bit—I have to admit, you’re pretty cute when you’re flustered—but I didn’t want to get you that mad.”
Gabrielle set her jaw, her anger rising once more at the way she was pinned down, helpless in front of him.
“Maybe if you want me to be cooperative and not pissed off, you could start with not acting like a high-handed asshole and keeping me pinned in place whenever you feel like it,” Gabrielle replied, barely managing to keep her voice level.
“If you hadn’t threatened to run away, I wouldn’t have had to.” Dustin snorted.
Gabrielle strained against the control holding her arms at her sides, rolling her eyes at Dustin’s assertion.
“You don’t have to freeze my arms to keep me from running away.” The invisible hold on her arms eased, and Gabrielle swung her arms free, taking a deep breath.
The urge to kiss Dustin hadn’t strayed very far, even in her frustration at his manner. Her anger and her desire were feeding off of each other, spiraling into a sense that she was rapidly losing control of herself. What was it about Dustin that made her feel so vulnerable? Gabrielle mentally checked—it was the fact that she was vulnerable to him. He could lift her up into the air or throw her to the ground, hold her in place, all with his mind—and all without any real recourse from her. She was not accustomed to feeling powerless, and she didn’t like it; and yet, at the same time, it was oddly exciting to know there was someone she couldn’t bully, whose thoughts weren’t transparent to her.
She remembered telling him—only moments before—about the failure of her relationships, and how the thoughts of the men she had dated had led to the demise of her romances.
“If you promise to come back to the house, I’ll let you go.”
Gabrielle considered the possibility of rebelling, of the standoff that would result. She was tired once more. It wouldn’t do her any good, she knew. This was as good an opening as she was ever going to get from Dustin—and at least, in some respect, she had the upper hand. He wanted her cooperative. He had apologized. He had made the offer to let her go for essentially a token.
“Fine. Let me go.” The air around Gabrielle relaxed, and Gabrielle leaned into the open space, testing her freedom. There was nothing holding her in place.
Dustin turned his back on her quickly and crossed the small clearing in front of the house. She considered the possibility of simply not following through on her word and discarded it. She had gained something of Dustin’s trust—it would be stupid to lose it now.
She followed him slowly, thinking of what little she had managed to glean from his mind. He was attracted to her—frustrated by her—and he had an imperative to not drive her away. His bosses wanted something from her, and he was supposed to be doing his best to keep her cooperative. She wondered what the reality of the situation was; whoever was after her had established pretty obvious ill intent by sending thugs for her instead of contacting her like a civilized person. But what kind of people was Dustin representing?
The thought of kissing him flickered through her mind again. His lips, up close, had looked even softer, even more appealing, than she had found them before. Gabrielle sighed as she stepped up onto the patio, glancing over her shoulder at the last of the dying light filtering through the woods. It would be dark in less than an hour, she thought.
She was simultaneously tired and restless. Gabrielle rather thought that the night would be a long one. Without her computer for entertainment, she
wondered what on earth she would do to fill the time before her usual bedtime sometime around midnight.
“You are an extremely frustrating woman, did you know that?” Dustin sat down in a chair that Gabrielle hadn’t noticed, off to one side on the porch. He was looking at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips in spite of the aggrieved tone.
“Oh, and you’re just so incredibly easy to deal with,” Gabrielle replied, settling on the floor and crossing her legs.
Dustin grinned broadly. As the sky darkened, lights came up automatically on the patio. “So, you must be very good friends with whoever owns this house,” she observed, trying to find another opening into his mind. Dustin seemed to sense her tactic and shrugged.
“She got me off of the streets. Gave me a decent job, a future.” For some reason, the fact that it was a she bothered Gabrielle. “She doesn’t use this place very much anymore, but she’s fine with me staying here sometimes—as long as I don’t wreck it, and keep the pantry stocked.” Gabrielle’s stomach rumbled and she realized that she’d only had a few bites of the admittedly excellent dinner that Dustin had prepared.
“What exactly is it that you do? Other than abducting people.” Dustin rolled his eyes dismissively, though he was still smiling.
“I didn’t abduct you. I could have, but I didn’t. And as to what I normally do… well, most of its tracking people. Sometimes good people, sometimes bad.” He shrugged again, as if the question of his job was unimportant.
“What category do I fall under?” Gabrielle asked, raising an eyebrow. Dustin sat up in the chair, looking at her intently.
“In spite of your brushes with illegal activity, you are a ‘good guy,’ my dear.” His voice was cynical. “Though I do respect the fact that you didn’t agree to work with that drug dealer.”
Gabrielle wondered just how long he had been tracking her.
“He wanted to torture people. I can’t deal with that kind of…” Gabrielle shuddered. “I didn’t want to be part of any of that. If it was just drugs I wouldn’t have minded; people have to make their own decisions. But that guy was depraved—and he was thinking rather vile thoughts about me all the while, too.”
“What’s the worst thing that you’ve ever seen in someone’s mind?” Dustin nodded and asked her.
“I’d have to be drunk to talk about it.” Gabrielle laughed dryly, shaking her head.
“Then let’s go inside. I want to hear this story—whatever it is. Do you drink wine?” Dustin’s eyes lit up and his smile broadened.
Chapter Eight
Gabrielle was warm all over, comfortable, relaxed. She and Dustin had managed to get through two bottles of wine, and the third was halfway gone.
“Now you have to tell me. The worst thing.”
Her stomach was full of the good meal that Dustin had made; it had been delicious even cold. She wondered how she had managed to become so comfortable with him so quickly. She considered the request, taking a sip of the crisp, cold white wine in her glass.
Dustin had filled her glass over and over again, the hours creeping by as they talked—Gabrielle telling him about growing up as a telepath with a mother who had mild telepathic empathy and a grandmother who had the same level of telepathy she’d been born with. It was a different sort of upbringing than what Dustin had had, she knew. There had been acceptance of her gifts from the moment she’d begun to manifest them. Nobody had assumed that she was crazy, or possessed. But then, she thought, the kind of trouble that a telepath could get into couldn’t compare with a hormonal telekinetic.
“I was… fourteen, I think. One of my teachers, he was always uncomfortable with me, I think because he knew. Miserable man. A pedophile. Truly sick—he hated it, but he indulged his incredibly sick fantasies as much as he could. I asked my mom what I should do about it, and she, of course, freaked out. They were investigating him and he killed himself in the middle of class. Hearing his thoughts—it was the worst thing ever. All that sickness, all that anger and despair. I had to go into therapy for a year afterward.”
Dustin’s eyes widened. He knocked back the last of his wine and set his glass down, filling it and taking Gabrielle’s to top off.
“Holy shit,” he murmured. “What did you tell the therapist? I mean, you can’t just go around saying ‘I heard a sick pedophile’s thoughts when he was killing himself,’ can you?”
Gabrielle shrugged, sipping her wine.
“They sent me to a telempathic therapist, so I could be honest. But yeah, it was pretty wretched. I still don’t have much pity for pedophiles, but even still; when someone’s suicidal there’s this… it’s the worst thing to read in someone’s mind, because it’s not even…” She struggled to describe it. “It’s like watching cancer in real-time. The suicidal thoughts just grow and grow, and the person loses everything that made them an individual—they’re consumed by it. And then when someone dies, it’s always… I have to pull away, but I didn’t know that then. I followed his brain into death.” She shuddered, remembering the sensation of the dying mind, the way he had faded away gradually, dissolving until he just went out completely.
She hadn’t realized that she had closed her eyes until she felt a pressure on her free hand. Dustin was holding it, gripping it tightly. The sensation was oddly comforting, and Gabrielle opened her eyes, feeling the heat of tears forming in them. She blinked the tears away quickly, setting her wine glass down to wipe at her face.
“I have to admit,” Dustin said quietly, looking abashed. “When I first started tracking you, I figured you were the type who’d never really dealt with anything too bad. Like, yeah, you’d been around criminals, but you shielded yourself from the worst of it. I didn’t realize you’d… that something like that was in your past.”
Gabrielle shrugged, suddenly aware of how close Dustin was. His hand was warm, but dry, his fingertips callused, his grip strong. There was something electric in his touch. Gabrielle wanted more of it. She couldn’t think of anything in the world that she wanted more than to touch Dustin all over—to feel his strong, warm hands all over her body, caressing and teasing. She knew, without having to read his mind, that his lovemaking would be playful, inventive. Gabrielle blushed from the roots of her hair down to her chest, imagining vividly what it would be like to sleep with him.
As if he were reading her mind, Dustin leaned in just the tiniest bit closer, his face a few bare inches away from hers. “This isn’t to keep you cooperative,” he murmured, before closing the remaining distance between them. He brushed his lips against hers, tentatively at first, but then he was kissing her in earnest, his hand moving from her hand to her waist, his arm wrapping around her and drawing her up against his body.
Gabrielle was almost shocked, initially. His lips were soft but firm against hers, tasting of the wine they had both been drinking. His tongue slipped into her mouth, batting against hers insistently. Gabrielle found herself responding without thought, deepening the kiss and running her hands over his chest and shoulders. His body was hot through the fabric of his t-shirt and more muscular than she had thought.
Dustin was pushing her backward slowly, moving her down onto the couch. His hands wandered over her body, grazing her breast through her clothes and then passing along her ribs, down to her hip. He nipped at her bottom lip hungrily, seeming to touch her everywhere at once. Gabrielle felt as though she was rippling with electricity, as if every nerve in her body was being lit on fire. She was far from being a virgin, but she had never become so thoroughly aroused, so quickly, with any of her previous partners. Dustin’s weight against her body felt so right—so perfect.
Every touch was almost more than she could stand. Gabrielle could feel the pulse of lust in Dustin’s mind, the way that his need blanked out any other thought. He broke away from the kiss, looking down at her with his eyes intensely bright.
“I had to kiss you,” he murmured, his lips barely separated from hers. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day. But if you don’t want more
…” He was pulling back slightly, but Gabrielle could still feel his mind; she could feel his desire for her—just her, not anyone else, and not because of who she was or what she did.
“Don’t even think of stopping,” Gabrielle replied, pulling him back down onto her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, meeting his lips with her own. She ran her fingers through his hair and found it softer than she had expected. Closing her eyes, she felt and heard him moan softly, heard her own answering voice from deep within.
She licked at his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and found herself trapped—her tongue being batted and carefully bitten. Dustin’s hands moved underneath her shirt, brushing against her skin, and Gabrielle was trembling, overwhelmed by the intensity of her own feelings. She opened her mind unconsciously, seeking Dustin’s as their bodies began to move together. She was only able to read him vaguely, but the pulse of his feelings, the intensity of his lust was apparent, wrapping around her like a blanket. Gabrielle could sense his need for her, the depth of his attraction for her.
Dustin lifted her shirt up, his fingers brushing upward along her stomach, just underneath her bra. Gabrielle sat up slightly, breaking away from Dustin’s kiss only long enough to let him pull her shirt over her head. She laughed as he threw it aside, reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it up.
She wanted to see him—she had to. It was more than desire, it was absolute need. Dustin pulled himself up and helped her take his shirt off, and for a moment, Gabrielle feasted her eyes on the sight of him shirtless; there was a sprinkling of dark hair across his chest, stark against his pale skin, somehow serving to emphasize the muscle underneath. Gabrielle licked her lips unconsciously, reaching up to bring Dustin back down to her. Their bodies pressed together, and Gabrielle ducked her head to the side of his face, dragging her lips along his jaw and down to his neck. She kissed and nipped along the side of his throat, breathing in the smell of his cologne and soap, the undercurrent of sweat running underneath it.
Abduction (A Psychic Romance Novella Series) Page 6
