by Anna Durand
He felt her.
The essence of this woman. Beautiful, supple, sweet as honey, but underpinned by a strength and vitality. Joy blossomed within him, its petals fashioned from her, drawn open by the radiance of their indestructible bond.
They peeled their lips apart, so slowly he swore he tasted every cell in her skin. Their chests heaved in unison, her breasts mounded against him. Condensation billowed out from their mouths, but the cold barely registered on his skin.
"David. Wow." She murmured the syllables against his mouth, her eyes half closed. "I had no idea you could kiss like that." She raked her nails down his chest to the waistband of his pants. "Do it again."
Words caught in his throat, constricted into a groan.
She rocked her hips into him. Hunger coursed through him, arousing every part of his body. He fought the impulse to sweep her into his arms, carry her into the cabin, and drop her onto the first padded surface he found to make love to her all night.
The moonlight burnished her golden eyes and ignited the emerald flecks. He wanted to capture her bottom lip between his teeth to suckle her delicious flesh.
She ran her tongue over her swollen lips, curving them into a shy smile. "Thank you."
"For what?" At least she seemed normal, but he couldn't shake the sensation of impending doom.
Her smile turned bittersweet. "You saved me."
His heart thudded, and relief rushed through him, flushing out the desire. Well, most of it.
"I was lost," she said, "and you found me. I gave in to the Golden Power but… "
A single tear spilled down her cheek. She veered her gaze down to the ground. Her shoulders slumped, bowing forward, and he knew — the way no one else would have — that she was trying to curl up in a ball while upright, to disappear into herself. What she'd done, absorbing the ultimate psychic power, left her ashamed. The link between them hinted at it, but his intimate knowledge of her confirmed it.
His heart ached for her, his arms too. He enfolded her in his embrace and tucked her head under his chin. While he reassured her with his words, promises he wasn't sure he could keep but he'd damn well try, she relaxed into him. Even knowing this wasn't her real body, but a manifestation created by a process neither one of them fully understood, he still relished the warmth and softness of her body against his. Her hair smelled of coconut and vanilla, from the conditioner she used. How on earth a manifested body could smell like anything amazed him, and he wondered whether his manifestations gave off any scents.
He caressed her hair, rewarded by her nuzzling his neck. "Why did you seek out the Golden Power?"
She lifted her head to squint at him. With great patience and a hint of disbelief, she said, "I did it for you. I came to find you and — " Her voice faltered. She raised a shaking hand to his face, etching a line down his cheek with one fingertip. "You were dead. I had to do something."
He shut his eyes, shocked by his own stupidity. Of course she'd done it for him. He remembered dying, recalled the pain and then the numbness, and he should've understood the moment he awakened. Reviving him from the dead, as well as resurrecting Nkosi and all the other incredible things she'd done, demanded a steep cost. To acquire that much psychic energy, she had no choice but to plug into the source she'd feared since the day six months ago when she first stumbled onto it.
Back then, she inadvertently harnessed it. Today, she sought it out and welcomed it into her mind, her body, her soul. Could she expunge it on her own? Could anything rid her of its influence? He wanted to believe his passionate kiss, his total commitment to her, expelled it. He'd seen too much in the past few years to delude himself.
She was back. She was his again. For how long?
He rested his forehead on hers and scrutinized her gaze for any remnants of the otherness he witnessed earlier. All he saw was her. "I'm sorry. I should've listened to you and stayed home. If I had, none of this would've happened."
"Sean would've charged headfirst into danger, and into Tesler's hands. Neither one of us could live with ourselves if we let that happen."
"It's my fault. I… " He had no clue what to say, how to explain, how to rectify the mess he made.
She kissed him, a sweet and lingering touch imbued with sorrow, affection, need, and hope. He hadn't imagined the last one could've survived after her ordeals. And yet the hope flowed down their connection, a gleaming, unbreakable thread.
"I'll see you again," she said, "soon. Wait for me."
"Wait where? Here?"
"Yes." She backed away from him, her face glowing with tenderness. "The last time we talked, I told you the conversation wasn't over. It still isn't. So don't go dying on me again, at least until we've finished our talk."
"I'll try." He could promise no more, and she knew it. "Be careful. Please."
She nodded. "I love you."
Her manifested body winked out of existence, as her mind retreated from him.
Gone.
Wind gusted over him, blowing grit into his eyes. He blinked it away, and stared at the spot where she'd been a heartbeat ago. "I love you too."
Chapter Eighteen
Grace glided back into her body, no pain, no pressure, just a gentle slide back into herself. David's final words, a warning to be careful, replayed in her mind, bouncing off the empty spaces inside her, the holes left behind by his absence. Their connection resonated in the background, but without direct contact it diminished to a distant echo. She sensed his presence in the world, nothing more.
An ache sprouted in her chest, deep and spiritual, rather than physical. The ache built into a heart-rending throb, tearing her hard-won composure to shreds. I miss you, David, I'm coming for you soon so please wait for me, please. Would he hear her promise and her plea? No. Not with their connection reduced to a trickle. She'd done all she could for him, for the moment.
A weariness blanketed her, with almost suffocating pressure. She sank to her knees, then reality burst into her mind, sharp and bright and agonizing in its abruptness. The basement. In Amador's house. She slumped on the concrete floor, shoulders hunched, pangs webbing out through her knees from their collision with the hard surface. Amador knelt before her with his lips parted, his wide eyes fixed on her, face warped by panicked emotions she preferred not to decipher.
He stretched out a tentative hand to touch her arm, but pulled it back at the last instant, hovering his hand a few inches from her. "Are you… unharmed?"
She made a rude noise. "Yeah sure, I'm great. You suppressed my powers with your EM doohickey, drugged me into unconsciousness, held me against my will, and led Tesler straight to me. Your concern is touching. Thanks a bunch."
Amador flinched and lowered his hand. "I understand you hate me, and you should, but I have done these things to protect you, in my own way." He bowed his head, draping a hand across each knee. "You may leave this place whenever you wish. No one will stop you. However, Tesler's men are still hunting for you and I cannot call them off."
"I figured." She sat back on her heels and sighed. "I need to get to Montana, fast."
His head popped up, his eyes bright with curiosity. "You found David?"
"Yes." She'd keep the details to herself, though his desire to know crackled in the air. The Golden Power might've deserted her — thank heavens — but it deposited a trace of its energy within her, something she could neither erase nor explain. Amador's emotions slipped inside her, wending their way past her defenses and into her psychic essence. His need and desperation scratched at her, but she suffered no confusion over whose emotions were whose. "Can you provide transportation?"
"Of course. It is the least I can do, to make up for… what I've done."
Sorrow burned. Regret pinched. She shoved aside the invasive feelings, and the urge to chastise him for daring to suggest he might make amends so easily. It'd take a hell of a lot more than a ride
to Montana. "I'd appreciate that."
He rose, towering above her. "I'll have Wickham arrange for my jet to take you wherever you need. You may leave within the hour."
With that, he strode toward the door.
"Wait." She heaved her body up off the floor, against the wishes of gravity and exhaustion. "I want to see the girl. Cari."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. His hands clenched, then slackened. Squeezing his lips into a tight smile, he said, "Of course. Follow me."
She marched out the door behind him, up the concrete steps, and down the hallway to a closed door on the left. He dug a key ring out of his pocket, jangling the keys as he selected the appropriate one. The grandfather clock she'd heard earlier bonged from somewhere nearby, muted by the walls. Amador shoved the key into the door's lock with a chunk. Then he hesitated, casting her a sidelong look. Her newfound heightened intuition kicked in, warning her with a tingle on her skin. He didn't want to her to see the girl, which she'd already known, but now she realized why. A fireball erupted in her chest and she clamped her jaw tight against the rage, balled her hands into fists, but the inferno blasted away her self-control.
"She's broken," Grace said, squeezing the words out between her teeth. "You pushed her so hard for so long she snapped. I've met others that's happened to. But they were tortured by Tesler and JT." She stomped one pace closer to him. Her hot breaths ricocheted off his cheek. "You did this to her. Admit it."
His expression fell into one of utter despair. His lower lip trembled, and moisture glistened in his eyes. "She is damaged, but not insane. I admit I abused this girl for my own purposes, and I have no excuse for it except to say I had no notion my tactics would harm her so terribly."
"But even after you knew, you kept on using her." The words fired from her lips, harsher than she'd ever heard her own voice sound. A rope of fear lashed through her, breaking through the anger. Grace shut her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. This isn't me, it's the Golden Power, it's not me. Despite believing — praying — she'd shaken off the Golden Power's hold on her, the truth gnawed at her gut. It's still inside me.
She heard the click as Amador unlocked the door, and opened her eyes. He pushed the door inward, stepped across the threshold, and moved aside, motioning for her to enter.
I'm not me anymore. The thought ricocheted in her brain, louder and louder with each concussive burst of repetition. Fear iced through her veins, chilling everything inside her. How long would the Golden Power influence her? Did it control her even now, in ways she hadn't grasped yet? Questions popped in her mind, but above all the others, a single fear lanced her heart.
Can David love me like this? Can anyone?
Amador stared at her, his face blank. "If you still wish to see the girl… "
Grace stalked past him into the small bedroom. Cari lay on her back on the four-poster bed, hands folded over her belly, eyes shut. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. Her dark hair fanned out over the white pillowcase, the strands draped over her shoulders. Grace perched on the bed's edge, alongside the girl's hips. Cari peeked out between her eyelashes. Her body went rigid. A pallor lightened her cinnamon skin, and her lips too.
Waves of anxiety rolled out of the girl, crashing into Grace. She gripped the bed's edge to steady herself against the onslaught. Christ. What had Amador done to this girl?
Grace settled a hand on Cari's arm. "I'm getting you out of here. You'll be safe."
Amador scuffled into her peripheral vision. "Grace — "
She flashed him a scowl. He clapped his mouth shut.
"Cari is coming with me," Grace told him. Then she looked back at the girl, offering her a consoling smile. "You've been in my mind, watched me, experienced who I am. You know I won't hurt you, and I'm not with him." A hint of fiery anger singed the last phrase. That wasn't the Golden Power. This anger steamed straight out of her own heart. "Will you trust me?"
Cari swallowed, hard. Her wide eyes flicked to Amador, triggering a massive breaker of panic, but then she switched her attention back to Grace. Cari bit her lip and nodded. "I know you won't hurt me."
A mild Texas twang lent her sweet voice a melodic quality. Grace imagined the girl singing, her voice as glorious as a choir of angels. How in hell could Amador torture a lovely girl like Cari and yet claim to be nothing like Tesler? His motives, though noble in his mind, were twisted and cold.
No. Not cold. Hot with desire — for power, and for something else she had yet to puzzle out. His emotions tangled together in an ever-expanding mass, confusing her attempts to sort out what he felt, much less what he craved deep inside. A shiver frosted her nerves. Maybe she didn't want to know his innermost desires.
Hopping off the bed, she held a hand out to Cari. The girl grasped it fiercely. Once Grace helped her stand, Cari said, "I want to go home. Please. I want to see my mom and dad."
The plea in her tone snapped Grace's heart strings. She ached for this girl in a way she couldn't describe, gripped by a frantic desire to rescue her from Amador and shield her from Tesler. She slipped an arm around Cari's shoulders.
Amador hunched at the foot of the bed, impassive.
"We're taking her home," Grace said. "And then I'm taking your jet to Montana." She hugged the girl a little tighter. "I suggest you stay the hell away from both of us."
"I will arrange everything. Please wait in the living room." His shoes scuffed the floor as he exited the room. Without looking back, he said, "I know you can never forgive me, but I hope one day you will come to understand my actions."
He disappeared down the hall, his footsteps scraping on the wood.
Cari buried her head in the hollow of Grace's shoulder and wept, her body quivering with each sob.
Damn him. Amador must pay for his crimes. She must make certain of it.
But first… David.
Chapter Nineteen
Washed in the sulfurous glow of the streetlights, the front door of the stucco cottage swung shut behind Cari. Grace gulped down the lump in her throat, and rubbed out the tears stinging her eyes. Amador had sworn Tesler knew nothing about Cari, and he assigned three men from his private security force to watch over her. The girl was safe.
As safe as any psychic could be with Tesler on the loose.
The big black SUV pulled away from the curb. Hands gripped on the steering wheel, Amador fixed his blank stare on the street before them. The headlights pierced the false twilight of the streetlights, punching a path into the night. Amador had insisted on driving her to the airport, and she'd been too exhausted to argue.
"Floor it," she said, refusing to dampen the acid in her tone. "No dilly-dallying just to keep me around longer. I'm not interested in whatever wacko scheme you've cooked up."
His fingers clenched tighter around the wheel, but his voice remained eerily calm. "I know I've destroyed any chance I had of gaining your trust, but I hold out hope you will assist me, once you understand the purpose behind my actions."
She snorted, not minding in the least that she sounded like a dog rooting through garbage. "You're delusional. I've had it up to here with your machinations."
"I understand you, Grace. We've both suffered at the hands of JT and Tesler."
"And how precisely have you suffered?"
His shoulders drooped, and his expression sagged too. When he spoke, his voice flattened into a monotone. "I saw a photo of you, read your file, and I knew I had to have you as my ally. So I tried to trick you into helping me. I'm so sorry, Grace, so very sorry for what I've done to you and to Cari. I don't ask forgiveness. I simply need you to understand."
"Then explain." She slanted her head, studying him. "Start by telling me why you lied about having psychic abilities."
"It wasn't a complete fabrication. Though it was my son Evander who possessed those talents." Amador cinched tight, then slackened. "He was twelve whe
n Tesler took him, tortured him, and finally — when he no longer offered anything of value — slit his throat."
Her heart stuttered. She stared at Amador, unable to glean anything from his face or tone of voice. Tesler murdered a child? The man knew no limits.
Amador dropped one hand to his thigh, the fingers tensing into claws that scraped on his slacks and routed the flesh beneath. "I altered the data on the DVD I gave you. I changed Evander's name to John Mendoza."
"Why?"
He yanked the wheel, swerving onto another street. She clutched her arm rest to prevent herself from flying into his lap. Well, at least his bad driving staved off the weariness mounting inside her. He said nothing for several more seconds, and then he hissed out another breath. "I suppose I wanted to erase the memories by erasing Evander's name from the records. It did not work."
The things he and Wickham said to her before rushed into her mind anew, and this time she grasped the true meaning.
Gabriel understands your predicament, Wickham had told her, he's been there before. And Amador spoke of those things that we share in common, our special connection. When he compelled her to share the pain of her parents' deaths, he apologized for dredging up her bad memories. I know how painful that can be, he'd assured her.
The empathic aftereffect of joining with the Golden Power was waning, yet his grief rolled off him onto her, weakening with each wave.
He lied to her, over and over, and she wouldn't condone his behavior. But confronted with a truth she never expected, she had to reevaluate him. Just a little.
Amador veered the car around another corner. The tires squealed. The odor of burned rubber wafted in through the vents. "Grace, please, I need your help to stop Tesler. I couldn't save my son. At least let me play some small part in destroying the man who took Evander's life."
The anguish in his voice tugged at her heart, which was stupid. Why should she sympathize with Amador, a man as dangerous as Tesler? But she couldn't help it. Memories of her parents flickered in her mind. Her gut twisted, and her throat constricted. "I'm sorry about your son, really I am. But that's no excuse for what you've done."