“Focus.”
The order swirled around her in a hollow echo, tugging at her will from all directions. Jared’s eyes flared with silver lights, so different from Caleb’s. She reached up and grabbed for his wrist. She didn’t like this.
Caleb caught her hand and folded her fingers in his. “Trust him, baby.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one feeling like his mind was being tossed out into a black ocean of nothingness.
“Not nothingness, Allie.” The words skimmed the surface of her conscious.
“No.” She fumbled along the waves blindly, swimming toward Caleb’s voice. It wasn’t nothingness.
“Find the pattern,” Jared ordered, his voice resounding like thunder in her head.
Pattern? There was supposed to be a pattern in this? She didn’t see any pattern, just an overwhelming darkness and disjointed waves of energy that threw her about, shoving her toward the center of the darkness that locked on her like a winch, pulling her in. Panic clawed at her mind. She didn’t want to go there.
Breathe.
Caleb’s strength flowed through the chaos, a solid ribbon of energy. She grabbed hold, clung to what she couldn’t see, refused to let go, searched for that “something more” that waited just beyond her mind’s eye. The foreign pull kicked up its power, endangering her grip. She fought it and fought Caleb’s efforts to slip free. She didn’t want to be alone in this.
Try.
She could feel him letting go. No!
It was too late. Caleb let go and she had no choice. She was on her own. Panic and determination warred for dominance. Determination won. She could do this. She would do this. She shoved at the curtain in her mind. There. In a corner of the impenetrable blackness, a fleck of gray. She dove toward it, focusing, pushing, fighting, gathering strength from the energy around her. With a suddenness that left her gasping, the blackness winked away. Once again she was in the kitchen, her fingers wrapped tightly around Caleb’s. Jared’s hands still cupped her face. His eyes, narrowed and serious, studied her face. His lips parted and one word breathed into the room. “Impressive.”
“Very,” Caleb agreed.
Slade asked the question she wanted to ask. “What?”
“She broke Jared’s hold,” Caleb explained.
“Damn!”
The awe in Jace’s and Slade’s “Damn” was freakier than the actual experience. If she hadn’t already been pressed tightly to Caleb’s chest she might have reached for him.
“Anyone ever done that before, Jared?” Caleb asked.
“No.” Jared’s gaze searched hers with a clinical assessment that only added to her nervousness.
“Are the feathers gone?” she asked.
She reached up to see. Jared’s hand blocked hers, bringing it back to her side.
“Picture them gone, Allie,” Caleb directed.
“I’ve already tried that.” She sighed. Jared let go of her hand. “About a hundred times.”
“Let’s make it a hundred and one.”
“Fine. But it’s not going to make a difference.” She was a total flop at this.
“Humor me.”
Closing her eyes, she did as Caleb asked, not expecting anything, but there was a soft tingle and then . . . she knew. She kept her eyes closed and squeezed Caleb’s hand, excitement building. “They’re gone, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
The joy burst inside. She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Caleb. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, running her tongue over his lips when his didn’t immediately part, nibbling at the bottom until he gave in. With a groan, he took over, kissing her deep and hot, sharing her joy, giving it back to her along with passion and . . . desperation?
Frowning, she drew back. A glance around showed none of the men were smiling. All of them looked as if the grim reaper was knocking at the door. Of them all, Caleb looked the grim mest. His green eyes were dark, gold lights swirling slowly in the depths, belying the gentleness of his touch and the happiness of the moment.
His lids flickered. Anxiety gathered in her stomach, squelching the excitement, joining the roll of pain from her hunger. “Why don’t you look happy? I did it right.”
Jared put his hand on her shoulder, the way people do when imparting bad news. “Because we just figured out what your gift is.”
This was so not going to be good. “What?”
Slade delivered the news. “You’re an empath.”
Caleb finished it. “Who drains energy.”
SHE’D so been hoping for something with a bit more pizzazz. Something more interesting. Something sexier. “That’s it? I’m a parasitic empath?”
Deep and low and even—too even—Caleb’s drawl rolled over her. “Yes.”
“Well, hell.” She dropped back against his chest.
“There’s nothing wrong with being empathetic.”
“It’s wussy and—”
“Womanly and sexy,” Caleb finished for her.
She rolled her eyes. “I was hoping for something leaning more toward the Lara Croft end of the skill scale.”
Jace snorted. “I don’t think Caleb’s heart could survive that.”
She did her best to ignore the rising nausea and the needle of panic piercing her core. “How can feeling other people’s emotions be dangerous?” It sounded about as boring as mud to her.
“Empathy is not dangerous, but the ability to drain the energy of the person feeling the emotion . . .” If Caleb’s body language had echoed the calm in his drawl, she might have been able to still her growing sense of dread, but he held her too tightly, his body curved too protectively around hers.
“That’s a whole different story, isn’t it?”
“That might make you a weapon.”
“Depending on?”
“Depending on whether there are limits to how much you can draw,” Slade answered.
“So, someone might be stalking me because I’m female, because I’m fertile, or because I’m a potential weapon?”
“Pretty much.”
She glared at Jared. “I hate when you say that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Do you think it’s the other vamps?”
“Hell.” Jared scooped the pile of crumbs that had been one of her bear claws into his hand. “No way would the high and mighty be up to something like that.”
“Who are the high and mighty?”
He got up and dumped them in the trash can. “The Order of Vampire. Members of the Sanctuary.” The way he said “Sanctuary” contained more scorn than she reserved for big hairy spiders.
“Run by me again who they are?”
“A bunch of rule-mongering, think-too-highly-of-themselves vamps who got together and put themselves in charge of deciding what’s right for vampires everywhere.”
“Right in what sense?”
“Whatever sense they deem fit.”
She slipped off Caleb’s lap, restless energy and the growing hunger driving her to pace. “They sound charming.”
“Oh, they are.”
“Couple hundred years ago, they invited us into the fold,” Caleb informed her as he watched her every move, no doubt cataloging every nuance of emotion she revealed.
She folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t appreciate the invitation?”
One short shake of his head said it all. “Not a group I want to hitch my team to.”
She rubbed her arms against the chill that crept over her skin. “Why not?”
“Too much philosophy and too little sense.”
“There was also that set-to Jace had with the head honcho’s brother the one and only time we went calling,” Slade interjected dryly.
“Hey, the guy took my smoke.”
There had to be more to the story than that. “And?”
Slade leaned back in his chair. The protesting squeak added to the strange tension in the room. “At the time, Jace was real fond of his s
mokes.”
“And?”
“They took offense.”
This was like pulling teeth. “And?”
“There was a fight.”
She could easily see that. Just the memory had Caleb flexing his fingers. “And you lost?”
“It’d take more than those pantywaists to kick the Johnson brothers’ butts,” Jace retorted.
She took a breath as a cramp seized her gut. “So you won?”
“Yup.”
Pain strained her voice. “And your reward was?”
“Turns out that honcho was real touchy about his brother’s pretty face getting rearranged.” Caleb shrugged those broad shoulders in a way that clearly said the Sanctuary’s reprisal didn’t matter. “We got exiled.”
The next cramp bent her double. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” she gasped.
No one answered.
Which also didn’t surprise her. The Johnson brothers had gone to war with an established society and won the battle, but lost the war, and didn’t see that as a negative. Either the Johnsons were contrary beyond belief, or the members of the Sanctuary were too different to relate to.
She reached out. Caleb’s hand encompassed hers, always there. His arm went around her waist, supporting her. His fingers stretched to cover as much as her abdomen as he could. Pain speared deep, stronger than she’d ever felt before, more violent. There was something about it she should question, a difference that disturbed her. Before she could center on the difference, another bolt of agony struck, driving up her spine, lodging in her skull. “Caleb!”
“Right here.”
She clutched his hand, her talons digging in. Desperation commanded she hold on as tightly as she could. “I need you.”
Her knees buckled. Curses peppered the growing haze around her, as violent as the foreign presence spreading inside. Malevolent, relentless, it prowled mental paths she didn’t even know existed, riding the battering ram of pain deeper into her psyche. The scent of blood melded into the moment.
“Feed, Allie.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want food. She needed . . . “Jared?”
“What is it?”
She had to tell Jared. He was the telepath. He’d know what to do. The pain gathered in a knot in her throat, choking off her voice.
“Goddamn it, Allie, feed now, chat later,” Caleb growled.
She shook her head, the pain intensifying as she struggled for coherence. “Something’s wrong.”
His hands stilled and all that muscle tightened to lethal preparedness. “What?”
“It’s after me.”
She had an impression of green eyes flaring with deadly anger, the brush of Caleb’s mind over hers, and then a soft imperative, “Jared.”
“Right here.”
“Get in there.”
Hard hands touched her, as irritating as Caleb’s were comforting. She flinched away.
“Just focus on me, baby. I’ve got you.”
“It’s gross.” The feeling of that presence was foul and slimy, as though a grub crawled through her mind. A tendril of pain snaked around her vocal cords, choking them closed, continuing to squeeze, taking her breath. Caleb stretched her neck, trying to open a path for air that wouldn’t come.
“Help me.” Had she managed to say it aloud?
A disoriented flash, like lightning but broader, more encompassing, shot through the darkness. Another presence joined the intruder. Angry, strong, and relentless, it tore through the edges of the inky tendril, shattering its hold. She took a shaky breath.
Caleb. The whisper was both mental and physical.
Come here, baby.
Calm in the midst of chaos. “Here” was a hollowed-out spot deep within the shadows. A tiny beacon of light. The evil gathered around her, pulling her back.
I can’t. She couldn’t outrun the smothering evil. Nothing could.
Now.
She shook her head. Move. Light shot out from the edge of the hollow. The blackness writhed and withdrew, pulling farther back, seething and gathering at the edges of the newly established boundary. The slimy blackness reared as two separate arms, waving in a silent scream. Between those foul extensions lay a narrow path.
Move it. The snarl whipped across her nerves. She jumped. The arms looked so ready to swat whatever was foolish enough to enter the path. She couldn’t believe she was being this stupid. But she was. Because Caleb told her to. With a prayer, she shot forward, blindly running down the path, the salvation Caleb offered. Behind her, the darkness lurched. Pain—crippling, blinding, unnatural pain built, stealing her focus, sapping her concentration with single-minded purpose. She focused on the hollow. She was close. So close. She couldn’t fail now. Her strength faltered. Help me.
Calm coated the panic. A little more, Allie.
She didn’t have any more. The darkness was too strong. Stronger than anything she’d ever felt, and so determined. It wanted her, and it was going to get her. There was nothing anyone could do. Fighting just endangered them all. It was better that she just surrender. The brothers didn’t need her. They were better off without her.
No. The brothers’ united protests roared in her head.
Caleb’s voice rose louder than all the rest. Goddamn you, Allie girl, if you give up now I’ll fucking paddle your ass!
He was such a nag. She dug deeper. White light flashed. The blackness flickered. She gathered her will.
C’mon, Allie. Come here.
She went, giving one last desperate lunge, making it halfway before the sucking energy cut her off.
Caleb!
Another brilliant light shot out, wrapped around her, and yanked. For a moment, she was suspended between the light and the darkness, caught in a tug-of-war while agony shattered her from the inside out. Jared’s determination beat inexorably at her surrender. Caleb’s unwavering strength gave her hope.
But the darkness seduced more subtly. Promising relief from the pain. Promising peace. Knowledge.
It doesn’t have anything to offer you, Allie.
Yes it did. Understanding skittered along the edge of agony. If she could just hold on a moment longer, she’d see what it was. Learn.
She didn’t get her moment. With a wrench that threatened to sever her psyche, she tumbled into the hollow Caleb had carved. As soon as she landed in the safe zone, three bolts of light separated from the hollow, lashing into the darkness with calculated fury, splintering it into fragments of nothingness. It vanished with a scream that reverberated in a cacophony of frustration. The echoes faded like the rumblings of a storm, passing grudgingly into the distance, taking the threat with them. For now.
She opened her eyes, dragging air into her lungs on hoarse breaths. Real. Oh God, it had seemed so real.
Arms came around her. She screamed and yanked away, to no avail. She slashed with her talons. Hands caught hers, twisted her around. A broad chest cushioned her back in a familiar embrace. The fight drained out of her in a shuddering sigh. “Caleb . . .”
“It’s all right, Allie girl. I’ve got you. It’s all right.”
15
IT wasn’t all right.
“I’ve been slimed.”
Well and truly slimed. Deep inside she could still feel that oily, sinister, pervasive presence. Gross. Allie kept her eyes closed as she assimilated her surroundings. She was on a bed. The sheets were clean. She felt sated, yet still felt that she could nibble, which meant she’d fed probably a few hours ago. In the distance, muffled by walls and doors, she could hear men’s voices, low murmurs that rose and fell in a deliberate hush. The house creaked with the wind that rustled the leaves in the trees. Energy drifted toward her. Intense. Impatient and concerned. Caleb. She’d recognize him anywhere. “Did you get the name of the entity that slimed me?”
“Am I supposed to make sense of that comment?”
She cracked one eye. Caleb stood beside the bed, skin glowing weirdly pale in her night vision. The lines beside his mouth
were deeper shadows of the same gray, more carved than she remembered. He looked tired. “Guess you’re not a fan of Ghostbusters.”
He brushed the hair back from her eyes. His fingertips grazed her skin in a touch as insubstantial as the moonlight coming through the window, drifting down her cheek to her shoulder, delving into the hollow above her collarbone, coming to rest midway down. “No.”
While his tone was conversational, his eyes never stopped roaming her face. Searching. She was afraid to ask why.
“Do you have any idea what Ghostbusters is?”
“I’m guessing a movie.”
The blanket weighed like lead, pinning her arms to her chest. Why was she so weak? “A very funny movie,” she corrected. “One that’s full of demons, jokes, and paranormal activity.” She cracked her other lid. “In other words, right up your alley.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her wisecrack didn’t even earn a twitch of his lips. Damn, this must be serious. “Would that be an I’m-humoring-you-because-you’re-at-death’s-door uh-huh, or an I-don’t-like-modern-movies uh-huh?”
“The latter. I’m more fond of reading.”
She closed her eyes in relief, then immediately reopened them, because the persistent sense that something was very wrong wouldn’t go away. From this angle, Caleb’s shoulders seemed broader than ever, strong enough to handle anything. She smiled as she realized he was wearing her favorite shirt. The green flannel one that brought out his eyes when she could see color. She dropped her gaze lower. He was also wearing her favorite jeans. They were really faded and really worn, to the point they no longer just fit his body, but hugged it in a loving embrace, revealing every surge of muscle, every bulge of masculine flesh, in a mouthwatering display. The man was truly blessed.
“Could you turn on the light?” She really wanted to see his shirt, the color of his eyes.
“Why?”
“I don’t like this night vision.”
His reach for the lamp was more of an impression of movement than actual movement. Floorboards didn’t squeak, air wasn’t disturbed. He just glided to his destination.
Caleb Page 21
