"It is a strange thing to give up on life. To think one welcomes death only to find that had they allowed their life to slip away, their greatest happiness would never have been experienced. I want to have the opportunity to go to the States, find my brothers and tell them this. It is important they know. It is important they realize we cannot give up. Not ever. Our lives can change in an instant at the least expected moment."
"I'm really that for you?" Teagan asked.
"You are really that for me. My miracle. My savior. And I want you to stay with me. Please stay with me and get to know me before you make a decision."
She nodded her head. "I want this to work out, Andre, as strange as it all seems, I really do."
7
Teagan groaned and tried to roll over. She couldn't move because something heavy draped over her waist and something even heavier hooked over her thigh prevented movement. She gave up the fight and snuggled deeper into the warmth.
She was comfortable. Definitely not in her sleeping bag. She was very warm, and she knew for a fact she wasn't in her jeans. Still, she didn't--or couldn't--open her eyes. She felt hungover, but she hadn't been drinking at all. For a long time, she lay there, drifting somewhere in the twilight between waking and sleeping.
Andre. Gorgeous Andre. He was so lost and alone. His life didn't seem to be a happy one. She didn't understand that. She'd grown up in the happiest of homes. They might not have had all the money in the world, but they were certainly the richest of families when it came to love.
She could call any one of her three sisters, tell them she needed them, and they would be on a plane trying to get to her. She had that. She'd always had that. And Grandma Trixie had shown her what unconditional love was. Teagan had always been a little different from her sisters. She was driven to learn. She sought knowledge all the time. She even snuck out of the house as a child and they'd find her in the library reading everything she could get her hands on. She was never punished. Not really. Not for anything she did. But truthfully, she loved her grandmother so much she didn't want to disappoint or hurt her, so she'd toed the line as best she could.
But Andre. Her heart broke for Andre. He looked at her as if she were his world. He'd just met her, but she was his lifeline. The healer in her had been inside his mind, trying to figure out how best to aid him. She'd found overwhelming sadness. His emotions were strong, almost as if they were so new to him he had trouble toning them down. He didn't go out during the day. An allergy to the sun, perhaps? He hadn't told her, and she didn't know if she could heal that.
She had to get up. Strangely, she knew, without looking at her watch, that there wasn't much left of the day. If she wanted to scout around and try to find the trail of what she was looking for, she would have to get moving. Andre had explained to her that he slept during the day and wouldn't wake up until evening. He was a heavy sleeper, he said. If she woke first, not to worry, he'd be up soon after.
Andre also made her grit her teeth when he'd said, in his commanding, sexy voice, that she shouldn't leave the cave under any circumstances, to wait for him. She didn't like bossy. Or commanding. Still, it was sexy on him, but then everything was.
Teagan took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. Andre's chest was pressed against her face. One of his arms wrapped around her waist. She could tell by the way it felt that he was not only asleep, but sound asleep. His leg was over her thighs, pinning her to him. She didn't move because it felt nice up against him.
He'd carried her to the raised mattress. It was not too soft and not too firm, exactly how she liked her mattresses. More, it was far better than her sleeping bag and the ground. She couldn't believe the sheets were clean. So was the blanket. That made no sense at all. Even more strange, the faint scent was lavender, one she particularly loved. How sheets and blankets in the wild of the Carpathian Mountains managed to smell like her favorite scent, she had no idea. Still, it was wonderful, and she wasn't going to complain.
She didn't remember Andre getting into bed with her. Surely she would remember an event that big. Yikes. She was actually in bed with Mr. Gorgeous and his very hot accent. Just lying next to him sent all kinds of very erotic and inappropriate thoughts through her head. And visions. All sexy. Some of the things made her blush. Okay. All of the images made her blush, but some were impossible to do, weren't they? And why was she lying next to Mr. Gorgeous thinking of things he could do to her that she'd never even heard of?
She'd never woken up in a bed with a man, and even though he was asleep, she wasn't certain what to do. She didn't want to wake up. The weird thing was, she couldn't hear or feel his heartbeat--just like before when he'd been injured. He'd been a monk. Maybe they taught that in the monastery. He had very long hair. She loved his hair, although she would never have thought she'd be a fan of long hair, but if that was a monk kind of thing--and all this time she thought monks were bald--maybe she could be a little grateful that he had wanted to be a monk.
"You don't look monkish," she murmured. "You're too gorgeous." What if all the monks in the monastery were hot? "I can just see the monk at the gate. 'Sorry, buddy, you're not hot enough to be one of us. We're the hot monks. We only allow gorgeous men like Andre inside these gates. That's the reason we're up here in the clouds--to hide away from all the women of the world so we don't wreak havoc among them.'"
She pressed her face against his chest. "Did you escape, Andre? Are they looking for you because you're the one they use to measure the hotness of any applicants?"
Sivamet, go back to sleep. You make me smile when I should be resting.
She went very still. She heard him in her mind. He wasn't just reading her thoughts, he was communicating with her, and his heart was still not beating where she could hear or feel it. He heard her. While he was sleeping. He heard her.
"Now I'm totally embarrassed. You weren't supposed to hear that. And why isn't your heart beating properly?"
She ran her hand over his heart. She lifted her palm and replaced it with her lips. A compulsion. She couldn't stop herself. Strangely, she felt as if she'd done that before. She dared to use the tip of her tongue, to slide it over the very place his pulse should be.
Do not play with fire, csitri. I am a man, after all, not a saint.
There was lazy amusement in his voice. He didn't move. Not a ripple of a muscle. Still, he knew she was playing with fire.
"I have to get up."
No.
One word. Authoritative. Very Andre when he wasn't being the sweetest man on earth. Bossy almost. No, super bossy. She wasn't the kind of woman who did bossy very well. Ask her grandmother. Ask her three older sisters. Ask anyone.
She lifted his heavy arm and slipped out from under it. His leg was an altogether different proposition.
Teagan.
There it was, the voice that made her go weak. She didn't move for a moment, because the way he poured emotion into his voice curled her toes and stole the air from her lungs. She almost wanted to obey his commanding "no." Almost. But she didn't want to stay in bed. She had work to do and she doubted if she could climb around a mountain in the dark.
She shifted his leg, withdrawing her own in one surprising burst of strength and determination. She was free, but something kept her right there, glued to his side. She was reluctant to leave him unprotected while he was sleeping the sleep of the dead.
Her body felt strange and sluggish, like she was trying to move through quicksand. Even her mind felt fogged and a little hazy. If they hadn't been up for hours talking, she might have thought something had been in the tea, but she knew better. Determined, she forced her body into a sitting position.
Stay here, Teagan.
She actually felt a compulsion to obey. It was strong, and that scared her more than the command in his voice. She had never wanted to obey anyone, not from the time she was a baby. Grandmother Trixie often regaled anyone who would listen with tales of how even before she could walk, she didn't like anyone telling her what t
o do.
Feeling as if she wanted to oblige him when he used that tone with her shocked her. More, it told her she was getting in over her head, and it was way too soon for that. If she felt that way now, what would it be like if she fell in love with him? She could never disobey Grandmother Trixie because she loved her so much. Loving Andre was out.
She turned her head to glare at him, but she couldn't see his face. Or his eyes. His hair covered both. She took a breath. It wasn't his fault that everything in her wanted to surrender to him. She realized she didn't want to leave him. Not just because he was unprotected, but because she needed to be with him. That was even more terrifying.
Did he feel the same way? Was that why Andre's sweetness had turned bossy? Maybe he was as frightened of what was happening between them as she was. She didn't want him to feel afraid or sad or so alone, like she'd felt when she was in his mind. Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. For him. For his life. For the fact that her life had been so wonderful in spite of losing her mother before she ever had a chance to know her. Andre's life had clearly been so different.
Once she felt the onset of tears, it was imperative to get away from him. She didn't cry in front of anyone. Not ever. She was the tough girl in martial arts, the one that could hang no matter how banged up she got. She was the same when she climbed. She refused to give in to the panic attacks when she was up over thirty feet on a rock that was mostly slab. Well, okay, she cried her eyes out, but then she got ahold of herself and climbed even when her heart beat so hard she thought she'd have a heart attack.
For the first time she tried to answer him back, mind to mind. Stay asleep. I just need a little alone time.
She gasped and pulled back, touching her fingers to her lips. Sorrow was in his mind. Terrible images of battles. Of blood. Of death. Of friends. He hadn't just been in law enforcement in some capacity, he had been a soldier of some kind as well. He'd seen terrible things. It was no wonder he had sought the peace of a monastery.
She felt such sorrow in him. Just touching his mind had shaken her. She leaned close to him, swept back his hair and daringly brushed a kiss over his mouth. For one moment, in her mind, she felt him try to shake off his sleep, but he subsided. He wasn't feeling sorrow, it was more like a dark determination that didn't bode well for her. He definitely didn't want her to leave him.
"I'll be back," she promised, and forced her body to move off the bed.
The moment her bare feet touched the floor of the cave, she drew them back up. She didn't mind dirt or rocks. She was okay with insects. In fact she liked and respected most insects for their extraordinary part in the world's ecosystem. But she detested slime. She looked down at the floor. It looked like regular dirt without a hint of water on it, but it hadn't felt that way. Water and dirt would have equaled mud, and she hadn't felt mud, she felt slime.
Teagan pulled her foot to her and inspected the bottom. The sole of her foot was perfectly clean. There wasn't even dirt clinging to it. She frowned and looked around her. That was another thing. How could she see? She wasn't using her flashlight and the torches had long since gone out, yet she could see. She'd been in caves quite often and she'd always used a headlamp or her flashlight. Mostly the headlamp.
She pushed her hands back through her hair, smoothing the braids at the side of her head and then running her fist down the long, thick ponytail of braids that fell down her back. Was this all real? Maybe her grandmother's illness was genetic and she was having hallucinations.
"Great. I'll be seeing vampires next. She was right about the monastery. I just have to meet a man named Gary and then I'll know I'm as nuts as she is," Teagan muttered to herself.
She had to be alone and figure out what was going on. She couldn't stay in Andre's company like this. He was everything that drew a woman like her. A fantasy man. He probably wasn't any more real than the slime she thought she'd put her feet into.
She put her feet down quickly and forced herself to stand up. Her stomach lurched. Definitely slime. She didn't look down at her feet, but walked quickly to her backpack and found her clothes. With every step she took, she felt as if the slimy substance covered more and more of her feet, crept up her ankles and even onto her legs.
She had to breathe deep to keep from gagging because the sensation was so real. Still, when she went to pull on her jeans, there wasn't a single bit of dirt on her feet or legs. The moment she had her jeans on, she put on socks and her hiking boots. Thankfully, with her boots on, the sensation of slime disappeared.
She dragged on a shirt and slung her climbing shoes around her neck just in case, and then with one last glance back at Andre's still form, she took off through the labyrinth of chambers to make her way back to the entrance she'd used to enter the caves--only it wasn't that easy.
First, the ground seemed unstable when she tried to move quickly. The floor of the cave rolled and pitched as if there was an earthquake. She lived in California and she'd experienced a few minor quakes, and although this was like an earthquake, it wasn't the same. She stood very still and waited to see if she was dizzy, but it wasn't an inner ear problem either. When she looked at the ground, it seemed stable enough. She even used her headlamp to make certain, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
She forced air through her lungs in an effort to clear her head. Every step she took away from Andre seemed harder than the last. Her body felt leaden, her feet heavy. She had to contend with that as well as the pitching floor. That served to disorient her, and she took a wrong turn somewhere along the line.
The moment she realized she didn't recognize the chamber she was in, she backtracked. The rolling of the floor made her feel sick. She hadn't eaten, nor did food sound good to her. Even the thought of her beloved tea ritual made her feel slightly nauseous.
Grandma Trixie drank tea, and they had their own ritual. She always used cold water in the kettle and brought it to a rolling boil. Loose leaf tea was the only real tea, according to her grandmother. All three of her sisters believed their grandmother was totally right about that. The few times Teagan had snuck a teabag for convenience when she was backpacking, the tea wasn't quite as good, but then she was certain she'd been brainwashed from the time she was an infant.
The memories rose of her grandmother and sisters sitting around the table laughing together, drinking tea with her. She loved those times. She was ten years younger than her next sister, and she knew her older siblings treated her more like their child than their sister, but it was straight-up love. She'd been doted on and loved from the moment she was born.
Her sisters had a different father, a man who had, sadly, died of cancer. From everything Teagan had heard of him, he had been a wonderful man and he loved and took care of his family. Her mother had been devastated when he died and she'd moved in with Grandma Trixie. Ten years her mother had been alone with her girls and Trixie, and then she met Charles Drake.
He'd been a charming, sweet-talking man who, by all accounts, chased after her mother for months. The moment he heard she was pregnant, he was gone and things turned ugly. Her mother had died in childbirth, and Grandma Trixie and her sisters welcomed the baby with open arms in spite of her father. Teagan never wanted to see or meet him. She was given her mother's maiden name and she loved it.
Teagan allowed the memories to absorb her mind so that her body went into automatic and instinctively found the way through the chambers to the entrance. There was that shield again. The harp strings in a terrible jumble, but through them, she could see the light of day.
She sank down onto the floor of the cave, right beside the tangled strings and began to tune to each note, just as she had when she first encountered them. She was faster than before because now she knew what to do. She had them all in place and began to rise when one string broke, flipped over the others, knotted and ripped the other strings free, tangling them all over again.
Teagan scowled at the mess. In another couple of hours she would lose the light for certain. If there were
wolves hanging around the area, she didn't want to be out at night, but she needed to go breathe the air, climb a little, take some time to think about what was happening.
Mostly, she hated the fact that even while she made plans to go out on her own, every single cell in her body demanded she turn around and run back to Andre. That was--unacceptable. Totally unacceptable. She had the sudden fear that when she left him, he needed her. That he wasn't breathing. That his heart had stopped.
She sank down in front of the narrow opening, staring out into the light. Her skin prickled as if the sun might burn her. She'd never really had that problem, a legacy from her mother, but still, the feeling was there. She wanted to weep and run back to Andre, to hold him close and assure herself that he was breathing. She didn't. Like everything else, the slime, the earthquakes, the labyrinth, even this shield, it had to be an illusion.
Andre was just fine. She was the one who needed to control her thoughts. She took another deep, calming breath and lifted her hands. She sang the notes softly this time, putting more power behind them, more resolve. As each string slid back into place, she tied a knot by adding a note on. Still, she was ready, standing this time at the end of the song. Just as she sang the last note and the string untangled, she pushed through the barrier into the light of day.
The sun hit her hard, nearly blinding her. Her eyes burned. She had to close them and rummage blindly for her sunglasses. It had to be the altitude. Her eyes were never particularly sensitive to the sun, but not only did her skin feel like it was burning, her eyes hurt--so badly tears leaked down her face.
She pulled on her windbreaker to shield her bare arms from the rays of the sun as she took a careful look around. The mountains were truly beautiful and wild. This range was one of the last preserves for wildlife in Europe. If her eyes hadn't been swimming with tears, she would have enjoyed the view. She squeezed her eyes closed and took off her glasses so she could wipe the tears away.
Unfortunately, her mind kept returning to Andre. Asleep--or dead. Unprotected--or dead. Alone--and dead. She definitely wasn't enjoying the view. Andre Boroi had been living just fine without her.
Dark Ghost Page 12
