by Anna Durand
Never let her find out.
She clinched him so tight it blew the air out of his lungs. Had she read his mind? Sweet heaven, he prayed she hadn't. He could not stomach watching another person dive headfirst into psychosis, splintered by the axe-like power of mind reading. Watching the madness shatter Grace…
That would kill him.
Her arms cinched him harder. He smothered the instinct to push her away and gasped through gritted teeth, "What's wrong?"
She let go, dropped onto her feet, and frowned at him. "You were dead. I saw it happen."
"Clearly not." He thumped his chest. "Still here."
Her gaze drilled into his with the heat of a laser beam, incinerating his every thought. The morning sun glittered on the green specks in her pale brown irises, tiny jewels swimming in a pool of molten toffee. God, she was perfect. From her slender, round-tipped nose to her graceful, narrow feet and even her flawless little toes that wriggled on the concrete.
When she hugged him again, more gently, her auburn hair tickled his chin. The sweet, tropical scent of her shampoo sparked off a surge of intoxicating hormones that swamped his senses, evoking images that only intensified the desire. The shadows of palm trees swaying over a sun-blanketed beach, while they sipped virgin daiquiris from coconut shells. Grace draped across a towel, her bikini revealing acres of creamy, soft skin. The hollow of her hips. The flat plane of her stomach. The swell of her ample breasts. The delicate curve of her neck. His lips burned with the hunger to taste her small, full lips.
She pushed away from him. "Are you thinking about sex?"
"Not specifically." True, his fantasy screeched to a halt a second too soon for that. But if he'd had more time…
Damn. He was an ass.
"You are thinking about it." She shook her head. Waves of hair splashed around her face. "I thought you died. I watched it happen. And all you can do is fantasize about sex?"
The meaning of her words crashed into him, cold as a liquid-nitrogen downpour, dousing the bonfire she'd lit inside him. She watched him die? Impossible. Yet Grace would not lie. Not about this. And she'd suffered too much, battled through too many losses, to crack jokes about death.
He grasped her shoulders. Careful. Protect, don't suffocate, remember? He loosened his grip, uncurling his fingers. "What are you talking about? I didn't die. You could not have seen it happen."
She folded her arms over her chest, thrusting her breasts upward. He struggled to concentrate, to rip his gaze away from the sight. Dammit, why did she have to be so… breathtaking.
Grace took one step back. "I saw Tesler murder you. It was real."
His thoughts snapped into focus. The heat of desire sluiced out of him, displaced by a sharp chill. "What exactly did you see?"
She scowled, glancing around the room. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this. Someone might hear."
"You think the house is bugged?"
"No, not the way you mean."
She slumped her shoulders, one hand rubbing her arm. A cold suspicion itched in his gut. Something wasn't right here. Maybe whatever she'd experienced triggered the terror that swamped him. Their connection was potent. If his ordeal had stemmed from her, then he marveled at her composure.
He grasped her shoulders, bending his knees to level their gazes. "Tell me what happened while I was gone. Everything."
"Lie down, Grace. Now." David pointed at the bed. He'd already folded the quilt at the foot and pulled back the blanket and sheet.
She rolled her eyes. "I need to build a psychic firewall to keep out hackers. You said so. I don't have time for a nap."
He stared into her bloodshot eyes, rimmed with dark circles, and willed her to obey him. He held out no hope she would, unless he convinced her of the need for sleep. Commanding her to do anything never worked. Like the dolt he obviously was, he kept repeating the same mistake. Time for a new tactic.
"Please." He cupped her face in his hands. "Please lie down and at least try to sleep. You're exhausted." Which was his fault. A knot pulled taut inside him, but he trained all his focus on her. "I'm begging you."
She gazed at him, impassive, for two heartbeats. Then she laughed, her beautiful mouth splitting into a grin. "Really, David. I've dreamed about you begging me to do all sorts of things, but napping wasn't one of them."
Just like that, everything besides the two of them evaporated. He dropped his hands to her arms and skated them down until he found her fingers, entwining them with his. He said softly, "What have you dreamed about?"
The slight pallor in her cheeks gave way to a delicate blush, and she fixated her gaze on his chest.
He lifted one of her hands to feather a kiss across her knuckles. "You can tell me. I'd like to know."
She aimed her hazel eyes at him. "You're psychic, you figure it out."
"I can't read your mind." He tugged her into his arms, ducking his head close to hers. She smelled wonderful, and felt even better. "Sometimes I wish I could hear your thoughts."
"Ditto." Eyes half closed, she drew in a slow breath. "You want to know my fantasies, but you won't tell me yours."
"Mine are boring." A beach, palm trees, the scent of wild, exotic flowers on the breeze. And her, gloriously naked, while he explored every inch of her soft skin. That was his fantasy. He ought to tell her, if he expected her to confide in him, but shackles wrought from elastic iron restrained him, stretching taut yet unbreakable. He shouldn't have instigated this line of conversation. He fought the urge to strip both their clothes off and act out his fantasy right here, right now, screw the beach.
She traced a fingertip over the neckline of his T-shirt. "You're many things, David, but never boring."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment."
Her arms snaked up to encircle his neck, her fingers massaging the nape. "I'm not sleepy, but I'd be happy to lie down for you."
Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lower lip. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to kiss her. She smiled, slow and sexy. His chest tightened. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
"Yes."
The hunger smoldered inside him, relentless and inescapable. He stroked his hands up and down her back, closed his eyes, and reveled in her aura. Love her, show her, let it all go. But he must hold back, despite his selfish desires. Her powers had grown day by day, he sensed it even as she denied the truth. The last time they'd made love, the act affected them both on a metaphysical level. Their telepathic bond, nearly destroyed by her amnesia and his secrets, strengthened in that moment, fueled by the love they conveyed with their bodies. If he touched her again, he had no idea what it might do to her powers. Bind her to him? Forever?
The thought coursed a thrill into him, and he nuzzled her cheek, hungry for contact. If he told her about his suspicions, she'd vow she didn't care what happened. He knew her too well to expect any other reaction. He could not let her risk it. After what he'd done already, things he could never tell her, he didn't deserve even the latent connection they shared. He'd betrayed her — unwillingly, but that was no excuse. He should've been stronger, fought harder.
Sacrificed his life for her.
Grace raised onto tiptoes and nipped his chin. "Is my evil plan working?"
Her hips jiggled against him, exciting parts of him he was desperately struggling to calm down. Hell yes, it was working. "I can't remember you ever doing this before."
"What? Seducing you?" Her voice had gone sultry, whispery, irresistible.
"Yes, that." He growled the words. "Please stop."
"Why?"
"Because — " Her nails raked up the back of his scalp. He battled to retain his wits, but this exquisite torment wore him down second by second. "We can't do this. You're exhausted."
She was worn out from more than their late-night escapade, he knew that. She worked too hard to support them both. He clenched his jaw.
What if she got sick from perpetual exhaustion, all because of his failures? "Former psychic research subject" didn't fit well on a resume, and he had no other explanation for where he'd been the past two and a half years. Besides, he had to focus on Tesler. For Grace. He prayed one day she'd understand why.
Excuses. Pathetic, half-ass excuses.
Grace tugged his head down, her lips closing in on his.
He summoned every ounce of self-control he possessed, took hold of her arms, and pushed her away.
She winced.
His fingers sprang open on instinct. "Did I hurt you?"
A heavy sigh deflated her. "Not physically."
But he had hurt her. Dammit. How long could he keep doing this to her before he bled dry her willingness to forgive him? Maybe he should end this and set her free. He couldn't.
Because he was a selfish bastard.
"I'm sorry." It was all he could manage to say.
"Yeah, I know." Her defeated tone scraped at his heart. "I am tired all of a sudden."
She scuffled to the bed and climbed in, on her side, hands clasped to her chest, knees bent. He crawled from the foot of the bed up to lie beside her, face to face. She looked so tired, so fragile, he wanted to wrap his arms around her. After the way he'd just rejected her, he doubted she'd appreciate the gesture.
A big yawn overtook her.
Though glazed with fatigue, her gaze sharpened on him. "Why do you think Tesler hasn't come after me again? It's been six months."
The question he'd dreaded. The one he had no answer for. Although he harbored suspicions, he must not share them with her. She suffered enough anxiety without piling on more that may well be unfounded. Instead, he reminded her of things she already knew, praying to distract her tired mind. "That's why we moved from Texas to Ohio and rented a house under false names, to hide you from Tesler."
"Then why do you keep looking for him? Isn't that kind of like wrestling an alligator? Sooner or later, it'll turn around and bite you in the ass."
He flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Go to sleep, Grace."
"But — "
"We have more pressing concerns. And you need rest in order to deal with them."
"Fine." The word blew out on a deep sigh. "I can't relax like this, with you way over there."
Six or eight inches separated them, but he knew what she meant. He'd withdrawn. With good reason, he thought. But he owed her a little solace.
He rolled toward her, wriggling closer until their noses touched. With one hand, he tugged the sheet and blanket over them both. She moaned, a contented sound, her eyelids drifting shut.
Half asleep, he suspected, she murmured to him. "I love you."
"I love you too." He kissed her forehead. "Rest. I'll be here."
"Mmm… "
And then she fell asleep. He watched her body go slack, her breathing shallower. But more than that, he sensed her mind sinking into a deeper, tranquil place. He brushed the hair from her eyes, trailing a fingertip down her cheek, his touch so light she didn't stir.
He would never let Tesler harm her. Never.
Edward McLean, her grandfather, swore the fake IDs he provided them with would shield them from Tesler — for a time. How long, no one could say.
Grace believed his quest was for vengeance, against the man who'd destroyed his life. He let her believe it. To protect her, he must deceive her.
As he studied her face, counting the lashes on her eyes, weariness settled over him. No, he could not sleep. Not here, with her. He always waited until she drifted off, then headed into the living room to sleep on the sofa. Since he woke before her every day, he'd sneak back into bed before she roused. All to keep the truth from her. Yet another secret, wedged between them.
His lids grew heavy. He fought the slumber as long as he possible, but finally, it swallowed him.
A whimpering noise woke him.
Grace was gone. He sat up, searching the darkened room for signs of her. Dark? Had they slept the whole day? Unease crawled over his skin. The shadows were too black, too oily. "Grace? Where are you?"
Whimpering. Coming from… everywhere.
His heart thumped hard and fast. He leaped off the bed and spun in a circle, but still saw no one.
She was dead. He'd hallucinated coming home, talking to her, holding her.
No. He was in their bedroom. Head gripped in his hands, he fought to wring comprehension from his brain. He had returned, which meant —
"Is this what you're looking for?" Tesler's voice echoed from the darkness creeping in around the bed.
David froze.
Grace stumbled out of the shadows, tears rolling down her cheeks. Tesler emerged after her, one hand clamped on the back of her neck, the other wielding a gun jammed into her temple.
"Well?" Tesler said. "Is this what you want?"
The scientist hurled the gun at David. He caught it, uncertain why. The object lay heavy and cold in his palm, unfurling a frost that leeched into him, infecting his entire body. This isn't right, this isn't right.
"Go on," Tesler taunted. "You know you want to."
Grace let out a sharp sob. "How could you do it? I trusted you."
Tesler shoved her toward him. "I destroyed her mind, but you murdered her soul. Finish the job."
David's hand lifted, his finger curled around the trigger. He couldn't control his body, couldn't stop this.
The gunshot exploded.
Chapter Three
Grace jolted awake. Beside her, David thrashed on his back, his arms pinned to the mattress as if something held him down. His distress tore into her psyche, it sliced, it scoured her raw from the inside out.
She jostled him. "David, wake up."
His eyes flew open. They darted side to side, in search of phantoms spawned from his own fears and guilt. She understood his pain, but not its source, because he refused to tell her.
David shoved a trembling hand through his golden hair, gasping, sweat streaming down his face. His gaze swung sideways toward her, and he grimaced. "I woke you. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing and start explaining. Let me help you."
"I don't know what you mean." He mopped the sweat from his forehead with his T-shirt. "It was a bad dream caused by bad memories. A singular event. End of story."
"Uh-huh." He honestly had no clue. Well, it was time to give him one. "I know you haven't slept in our bed for months, until this little cat nap. And I know about your nightmares."
His body went rigid. His expression blanked.
She tucked her hands under her cheek, depressing the pillow. "Come on, David. What part of telepathic bond do you not get?"
He cleared his throat.
She poked him with her knee. "I can feel when you leave the room, and no matter how far away you run, I can also feel when you're having a nightmare. The same way you felt my panic."
David settled a hand on her hip, squeezing. "I didn't realize you felt it when I leave. I should've guessed." He pulled his hand away. "I am sorry."
His head rotated toward her, those gorgeous eyes focusing on her. She stretched, draped one leg over his, and combed her hand through his hair. He was unharmed and oh so alive, her vision of his death had been a mistake, it must've been. If he wouldn't talk, then she'd settle for nonverbal communication. "I'm feeling refreshed. How about you?"
"No, Grace."
"What?" She let her hand fall to his cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.
He bolted upright and patted her hip. "Time to get up. We have work to do."
When will you stop running away? She knew the answer. Not until he got his revenge. She wanted Tesler to pay too, but not at the expense of her relationship with David.
Flopping onto her back, she groaned. "What now?"
"You need to
build a wall in your mind."
"May I please pee first?"
"I suppose I'll allow it." A slight smirk slanted his lips. He ripped the blankets away, and cool air prickled her skin. "You do that, and I'll make us breakfast."
She watched him rise, that muscular body unfurling. The sinews in his back flexed under his shirt as he stretched and yawned. He believed she was oblivious. Yes, she was oblivious of many things, hindered by amnesia. Yet she knew he was keeping secrets from her, most likely in the foolish male belief that ignorance equaled protection.
A few months ago, she'd caught him using her computer in the middle of the night. No big deal, she'd thought. But the sight of him stopped her — the bulging eyes, the parted lips, the blankness beyond his usual stoicism, his hands gripping his thighs. She'd hesitated in the doorway between the hall and the living room, her gaze glued to David, where he hunched in the recliner with her laptop balanced on his knees. The second he noticed her, he'd clapped the laptop's lid shut — along with his emotions.
When she'd asked what was wrong, he dismissed the whole incident by saying he'd "stayed up too late trolling the Internet."
Yeah, right.
David strode around the bed, offering his hands to her.
She let him help her up, but frowned at him. "What happened to your urgent lead? You know, the one that made us rush to the airport in the middle of the freaking night."
"I told Sean to wait for me and we'll check it out later."
"At one o'clock this morning, it was deathly important."
"Things change." He slapped her bottom. "Go. I'll meet you in the kitchen."
She started for the door, but paused on the threshold to glance back. "What changed? What's more critical than your mission to find Tesler?"
Though his expression had shuttered, his eyes burned into hers. In a voice low and steady, he said, "You should know the answer."
He pushed past her, stalking down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Grace sat cross-legged on the bed, hands on her knees, eyes closed. A touch danced across her skin, exciting places deep within her. Softening tension. Wiping away fear. She peeked out between her eyelashes. David perched on the bed's edge, angled toward her, hands resting on the comforter. His gaze trailed across her flesh like a physical touch. He could caress her without moving a finger. That knowledge shot fierce arcs of desire through her.
