Emma was open and friendly, asking Tara general questions about herself but not prying as to why she was there.
“Do you live on this island?” Tara asked. “I don’t even know what it’s called. Does it have a name?”
“We live here most of the time, yes,” Emma replied. “We love it. This is Isle Salus. The island of safety.”
“What did you do, before you came here?”
“We went crazy in the big city,” Emma answered.
“We were stockbrokers,” Craig said, then laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Not everyone on these islands is a beach bum.”
Tara reddened. “I didn’t think…”
“Don’t let him give you any shit, honey,” Emma said. “He is a beach bum. We both are, more or less, and that’s the way we want it. We’re done with that other life. After smart-ass here had his second heart attack and my hair started falling out, we decided we’d had enough stress. We lucked into this job with DOSA and never looked back. How’s your mom doing?” she asked, turning to Marshall.
“She’s fine,” he said and almost imperceptibly nodded his head in Tara’s direction. But Tara caught the movement.
“He’s such a good boy, our Marshall is,” Emma went on, oblivious to Marshall’s shaking head. “Sending his mom money to keep her in that nice home. I should be so lucky when I’m old to have one of my kids treat me so well.”
Marshall ducked his head but Tara caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She opened her mouth to pursue the subject but then closed it. She really couldn’t justify prying into his private life any more than she already had. He’d shared painful parts of his past with her, and unless Emma was an excellent actress, he had been telling the truth about his family. He’d opened up to gain her trust, as she’d asked. Now, she realized, she wanted to know more about him for purely personal reasons.
They all chatted until the meal was ready, and then the Hendersons left, leaving Marshall and Tara to eat. She had to admit the salad and homemade rolls looked good, and this time her stomach gurgled with hunger.
“There are a few bottles of wine here,” Marshall said. “How do you feel about cabernet? And jazz?”
“Both are fine.” Tara rummaged in the kitchen and came up with two wine glasses, and soon the sounds of smooth saxophone filled the air.
They ate quietly for several minutes. Tara was suddenly shy, not sure what to talk to Marshall about. She was not big on needless chitchat and appreciated being with a man who apparently felt the same way. The silence was comfortable to her and she sensed Marshall was also content with the stillness.
The night sounds coming in through the sliding door were peaceful and blended well with the low background music. A few crickets chirped, the waves lapped at the shore and she heard the gentle tinkle of a chime when the wind blew. The wine went down smooth and a state of peace came over Tara. She sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair.
“Do the Hendersons take care of this whole island?”
“Yes, that’s their job. There’s not much to it, but someone has to keep supplies stocked and look after the houses. This is where DOSA brings people, like you, to keep them safe. We also use this as a training facility.”
“Do they know about your, um, special, uh…”
“Yes, they know what I am.” Marshall set his glass down on the table with more force than necessary.
“You’re kind of touchy about being a Metamorph, aren’t you?” Tara asked, emboldened by her second glass of wine.
“I don’t talk about it,” Marshall said.
“Why not? It’s part of who you are.”
“It’s classified, for one thing. Do you see all the trouble that knowing about me has caused you?”
“Well, since I already know, it’s not a secret. Tell me more.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
Marshall stood and took their plates to the kitchen.
“I don’t know what to say. This is not a subject I discuss with women.” His voice was tight. She knew she should let it go, but wanted to know more. She liked Marshall and wanted to learn more about what made him tick. Tough as he was on the outside, she sensed he had a gentle nature within.
“You don’t have girlfriends?”
“Not real girlfriends. I can’t share my identity with anyone.”
“You have fake girlfriends? Blow-up dolls?” Tara knew the wine was getting to her but she didn’t care. Despite his reluctance to share, she was enjoying their banter.
There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “No, not blow-up dolls. Metamorphs get together with each other. For sex. It’s easier that way, no complications.”
Tara pondered this for a moment. “But don’t you want a…” She paused, about to say normal again. “Don’t you want to get married, have a family, all that?”
“I can’t have children, so the family scenario is not possible. Besides, who wants to be with a monster?”
Tara picked up the salad bowl and joined Marshall in the other room.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier, about you not being normal. You know, there really is no normal. Everyone has something odd about themselves.”
“Not like I do.”
“So, you’re just extra gifted.” She joined him in the other room and rummaged in the cupboards looking for a container to store the leftovers.
It occurred to her that she hadn’t spent time in a kitchen with a man for quite a while, and this everyday domestic chore felt delightful, for more reasons than one. The close proximity of Marshall sent her senses into overdrive. He radiated vitality that drew her like a moth to the flame.
“Why did DOSA give you those particular powers, anyway?”
Marshall sighed. “You’re not going to stop until I give you more details, are you?”
“Probably not, no.”
“I become an energy form when I need to manipulate people and objects, and an animal form when I need to enter an area undetected or use extra strength.”
“Our government has that kind of sophisticated technology, to give you that power?”
Marshall was silent for a moment.
“We had a little help,” he finally said.
“What kind of help?”
“We used technology we got from…other beings. No, no more about that subject,” Marshall said as she started to speak. “It’s top secret. I’m not going to say anything further.”
Other beings? Tara had an irresistible desire to grab Marshall and twist his ear until he told her more, but suspected he could easily overpower her attempt at coercion.
“Then tell me about your other self. I still don’t know what animal you turn into.”
“It’s not important. The less you know about me, the better. I’ve already told you too much.”
They both turned at the same time and Tara teetered slightly. She suddenly found herself smack against Marshall’s broad chest. The intoxicating scent of light sweat and a woodsy aroma filled her nostrils and her body reacted involuntarily. Moisture formed between her legs and her pulse sped up. He looked into her eyes and she caught her breath. The gold highlights in his eyes had become deeper and almost taken over the green.
The air in the room seemed thick and hot and Tara could barely breathe. Marshall didn’t move and for a moment they stood, bodies lightly touching, their energy joined together. A shiver of wanting ran through her and deep longing filled her. An overwhelming desire to wrap herself around this man, to join with him, came over her and she clenched her hands into fists to keep from touching his face. She heard the uneven rhythm of his breathing and knew he was also affected by their nearness.
He finally took a step back and cleared his throat.
“I think we’ve both had a little too much wine. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”
They walked outside and Marshall directed her gaze to the sky above.
“Have you ever seen so many stars?”
Tara had no
t. She loved looking at the heavens and dreaming of other worlds. The view from this secluded spot offered a panorama of twinkling stars. When thinking of the vastness of the universe, Metamorphs and other beings suddenly did not seem so fantastic. Why would there not be other races and life forms, and why not use alien technology to improve the human race?
An aspect of the process Marshall had gone through still bothered Tara. It seemed as though he had been tricked into becoming the super being that he was. He had been young and desperate when he made the decision that altered his life forever. DOSA had taken advantage of him, even if they had saved his life.
“Over there, where that light is, that’s the Hendersons’ house, then just beyond that is the storage building,” Marshall said, interrupting her thoughts. “We’ll take a tour of the island tomorrow, though there’s not much else to see.”
They walked the other direction to the dock and looked out over the ocean.
“Do you ever come here when you’re not working?” she asked.
“I do, once in awhile. It’s nice to get away.” Tara heard longing in his voice and realized how lonely he must be. To know you would never have a traditional family life, that your relationships were limited to a small group and that you had to keep your identity a secret must be a painful burden.
Though the whole white-picket-fence idea was not particularly appealing to her right now, Tara knew that one day she could change her mind. She had certainly been eager enough to marry Karl and waltz down the aisle in her pretty white dress, poor decision though that had been. She was grateful to have an abundance of opportunities open to her and couldn’t imagine being locked into one lifestyle forever. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. Tingles ran up her arm at the contact, but she also felt comforted by the strength of his grip as he returned the pressure. They gazed in companionable silence at the water for several more minutes.
“We better get some sleep. The weather is going to turn tomorrow. I need to rise early in case we have to put the shutters up.”
Once in bed, Tara tossed and turned for twenty minutes. Due to her heightened senses, she could still faintly smell Marshall’s scent on her skin even after a shower. The memory of the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her infused her body with heat. Knowing he was in the next room and they were separated by only a bit of drywall added to her discomfort. She wondered what he wore in bed. With a heavy sigh, she willed her mind to think of something else. Like the fact that a dangerous man wanted to kill her. Her heart sped up and she admonished herself. Think of something boring, like those audit reports. Focusing on that dreary line of thought, she eventually drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The sound of a shutter flapping woke Tara, and after an initial moment of confusion, she remembered where she was. From her cozy spot in bed she could look out the window and see palm trees swaying in the breeze. A strong wind had arisen. She pulled on some clothes and followed a delicious aroma to the kitchen where a still-warm pot of coffee awaited. She poured a cup and went to the back porch.
Marshall was in the yard doing some type of exercise. She stood in the doorway and watched, enjoying the lithe movements he performed. Most men she knew looked like unemployed slobs in sweatpants, but Marshall wore them well.
“You’re welcome to join me,” he called.
Tara felt a moment of embarrassment at being caught in her observation. Did this man have eyes in the back of his head?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. What are you doing?”
“This is tai chi, a Chinese martial art.” He continued the slow, graceful movements.
“That’s a martial art? It looks more like yoga on barbiturates.”
“It’s really a meditative exercise using circular stretching movements and balancing positions, if you want the technical definition, but it is considered a form of martial art. Come here, I’ll show you a few movements.”
“Uh, no, I’m not very coordinated. Remember? I tripped and hit my head, that’s why I’m here.”
“This will help with your coordination.”
“There’s too much wind. I’m smaller than you, I’ll blow over. Is a storm coming up?”
“Yes, there is one headed our way, which is why it’s a good idea for us to be calm and centered. That’s what tai chi does. We’ll only perform the positions that keep both feet on the ground. Come on, you’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”
Marshall held out his hand and despite her reluctance, Tara was intrigued. She hadn’t lied; she was essentially clumsy. He looked so graceful, however, that she couldn’t resist giving this new exercise a try. Besides, she suspected physical contact might be involved and however brief, it would be delicious.
Following his lead, Tara put her body in the first position he showed her. He adjusted her posture slightly, setting off little sparks where his fingers touched her skin. They shifted to the next position and Tara was surprised at the amount of energy it took to hold each one. He then had her combine several positions and they flowed through them slowly together.
“You’re a quick learner,” he said. They were now up to eight forms. “So why is a good-looking, smart woman like you all alone?” he asked as they glided along. The movements were so slow and precise she had to concentrate fully on what she was doing.
“Maybe I enjoy being alone,” she said.
“Maybe. I think you’ve been through a bad experience with a man and now you’re stuck and having a hard time moving on to the next stage.”
“You’ve been poking around in my business, I see.” Ordinarily, this comment would have pissed her off enough to start an argument. Moving her body in this graceful manner produced a feeling of calmness, however, and she continued with the exercise.
“We did a background check on you, yes. Nothing overly invasive. I shared my past with you—it’s your turn to reciprocate.”
“You know what happened. I was married, now I’m not. I’m in a lull right now and don’t feel much like socializing.”
“If you say so. I’m going to hazard a guess and say you aren’t real fond of the male gender. In fact, it almost appears you don’t like us.”
His tone was light, almost teasing, but Tara caught a hint of genuine interest.
“It’s not a matter of liking. I don’t trust men.”
“Clearly. Watch your form—don’t lose your focus. See what happens to your balance when you do?”
Tara had begun to tilt to the right.
“Stop distracting me,” she said and they continued on in silence for several more minutes.
“You know, sometimes you have to have a little faith in the process of life. We can’t always see what’s ahead and we have to be willing to let go of what happened behind,” Marshall said.
“I’m kind of low on faith these days. Right now, I’d settle for getting out of this mess in one piece.”
“You should never settle. For anything.”
Marshall was silent after that and they both continued the movements, the sounds of the waves and birds their only accompaniment. Forty minutes later she felt more limber and her mind was relaxed yet energized at the same time. Marshall had been a patient teacher and seemed to enjoy passing along his love of this exercise.
“Do you do this much?” she asked.
“Every day, twice if I can,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It puts me in a good place to start and end the day.”
“Hello neighbor,” Craig called, interrupting their conversation. “That storm is picking up speed. It’s about time to get the shutters up, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Marshall said, looking up at a darkening sky. “Looks like this could be a rough one.”
“Emma’s got fruit cut up and raisin bread ready to toast. Let’s eat and then get cracking.”
“How bad is this storm?” Tara asked as they headed back to the house.
“Nothing we haven’t lived through before,” Marshall sa
id, and Tara picked up a sense of excitement from him. He walked briskly with his shoulders back, arms swinging.
“You don’t seem terribly concerned,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his pace.
“I’m not. We have shutters to protect the houses, plenty of water and a generator if we need it. We’ll be fine. The storms out here are magnificent. You haven’t lived till you’ve experienced nature having a wild party in the middle of the ocean.”
She couldn’t see his face, but from the sound of his voice, Tara knew his green eyes would be lit with excitement. Emma brought a tray of food to their house and after they’d eaten and refilled on coffee they got to work. Marshall procured a pair of gloves, after Tara assured him she could assist with the shutters.
“I may be clumsy, but my dad insisted I learn to do basic home repairs. I know the difference between a Phillips and a flat-head screwdriver.”
Between the four of them, they soon had both houses shuttered and the generator fueled and ready to go if needed.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We drink and play cards. How are you at gin rummy?”
Chapter Six
An eerie ambiance filled the living room with the windows blocked off. Very little light came in and the wind howled a mournful tune outside. The electricity held for forty-five minutes and when it went out they lit the candles and lanterns they had ready. Though Tara was slightly warm without the air conditioner running, they’d opened the back door and enough breeze came in to keep the room from becoming unbearably hot. The three agreed there was no point firing up the generator, as this storm was moving fast and would be past them soon. As long as they could see their cards and find their drinks, there was enough light.
“Our generator is noisy and a pain in the ass to haul from the storage building. We’ve got plenty of candles and lanterns and DOSA splurged and let us order that one transparent storm shutter, so we’ve got a little light coming in,” Craig said.
Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance) Page 7
