by Connie Hall
“Can’t argue that point.”
“Have we found some common ground?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
She seemed to peer straight into his innermost self, the dark place that had destroyed all he cared about. Someday he knew it would destroy him, too. “Doubt it,” he said flatly.
She arched a brow. “I don’t know. You might have been heartless yesterday, but today, after you’ve felt a random act of kindness from someone—” she pointed to her own chest, and he got another eyeful of her breasts “—could you honestly say you wouldn’t have helped me?”
“I’m not letting you go, if that’s what you’re fishing for.” He shot her his most dangerous look, the expression that warned others to be on guard.
“I’m being serious here. I’m not trying to manipulate you. Would you have helped me?”
He looked into her searching blue eyes and told her what she wanted to hear. “Maybe, if I could have gotten away.”
“I’m glad you’re not a total lost cause.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. The world is full of darkness, and you can’t change that.”
She met his eyes squarely, unblinking. “Only if you seek it out.”
“No need to go looking. It finds you.”
“If you invite it in. You see, I have this theory.” She raised her brows and had that forthright untainted expression that he was beginning to recognize and appreciate. “That if you do one good deed, then you receive that measure of kindness back tenfold. And it registers in our consciousness and changes us and allows more goodness to enter our lives. Same thing with evil. It comes in if we allow it.”
It physically hurt to not reach down and grab her and show her his own form of happiness. It took all of his concentration as he said, “Then you don’t believe in absolute evil.”
“Of course I do.” She cut her eyes at him. “Demons are evil and unredeemable, but creatures such as yourself, who have two skins, and those like me—” she motioned to herself “—who are all human, we have a conscience and therefore free will and the capacity and receptiveness required for goodness to drop seeds. And we can control our destiny and not let negative energy in our lives.”
Kane studied her a moment. She seemed so trusting and naïve and genuinely serious. He didn’t think this was a Little Miss Sunshine act. He was seeing the real Nina Rainwater. He wished he wasn’t so jaded by life and said, “You’re young and easily taken in. What until you’ve lived awhile.”
“You speak like you’re ancient. You couldn’t be that much older than me.” She cocked her head to the side, and her hair fell over her shoulder. It was a flirtatious gesture, used by females over the ages, but he was certain she had no idea that she was doing it as she asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Old enough to know that if you believe what you just said, you’re the most gullible human I’ve ever met.”
“Or the most evolved.” After a hard look, she grew quiet and looked offended. Her cheeks reddened from shyness or anger, he couldn’t tell which.
Kane immediately regretted his words and said, “It’s got to be frustrating keeping such a positive outlook.”
“Really, it’s not. But I guess for someone like you, who carries around so much gloom and doom, it might be.”
“I don’t look at the world with blinders on.”
“I don’t, either.”
“I bet you’ve never experienced real emotional pain.” He couldn’t draw his gaze from the pout of her lips and those fathomless blue eyes crowned by the heavy black lashes that tied him up in knots. He hadn’t felt like this since he was fifteen and had lost his virginity.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m a receiving tower for emotions.” She threw her hands up in dismay. “Really?”
“I communicate with all creatures, alive or—” She caught herself and looked suddenly annoyed at what she had just revealed.
“Dead?” he finished for her. She was a magnetic telepath, an ethereal diviner. So that’s why he’d felt so compelled to be near her. He’d never met anyone like her. To keep her talking about herself, he asked, “How do you deal with it?”
“I’ve learned how to cope by finding the bright side. And don’t think I haven’t had disappointments in my life.”
“Name one.”
“I’ve never met my mother. There. How’s that for disappointment?”
“You’re not vested in the relationship, so you’re really not feeling loss there.”
“Okay, quid pro quo,” she said, her blue eyes flashing.
“Who do you care about?”
“My brother. Back at you. How do you feel when you have to watch those creatures you try to help die?”
“I don’t like it, and I question why I’ve been given my powers, like I’m being tested or failing miserably.” She seemed to come to a realization, and bottomless sorrow marred her face. “Honestly, I hate it sometimes.” Emotion stirred the blue glass in her eyes.
So Little Miss Sunshine wasn’t all sunshine. Having helped her realize that made him feel like a heel at the moment. He wanted to give her back her little bubble of optimism, no matter how fabricated it was, and take away the sadness he’d caused. But there was nothing wrong with her facing reality and learning that it bit you on the ass every time you dropped your guard. He didn’t know how to console her, so he said nothing.
She cleared her throat, blinked back the tears and said, “I’ve never admitted that to anyone. Not even my sisters. Maybe not even to myself.”
“I’m glad you told me. I thought anyone so optimistic about life couldn’t have lived it, but I was wrong.” It took a lot for him to admit that, but he felt she needed to hear it and he needed to say it.
“It’s okay.” She smiled, but only a little. “I thought the same about you.” She pointed to him. “Anyone as rich as you couldn’t have any reason to be cynical or gloomy or lonely, but I’ve felt it in you. So deep it hurts me. So I guess we were both wrong about each other. Because until you walk in someone else’s shoes, you really don’t know what they’ve gone through.”
So that’s why she shied away from him; she channeled his beastly emotions. He’d never felt so exposed. She was able to look into the darkest corners of his soul. Was he really so bitter about life or so miserable? It had been such a gradual progression and acceptance that he’d never really taken stock of his existence. And he didn’t like her doing it for him, so he changed the subject. “It must be a burden, your power.”
“You have no idea, but I have a place I can go—” She paused, seeming to grow uncomfortable at what she was about to say. She pointed to him. “Enough about me. Tell me about your pride. I never knew a group of seniphs lived here.”
“We took great care that no one knew. We’re a close-knit group and keep to ourselves. We had to be, living near humans.”
“So you’ve been settled here a long time?”
“Hundreds of years.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Not much to tell. My parents owned the winery. They’re dead now.”
“You mentioned a brother.”
The conversation was shifting in the wrong direction, so he said, “We’re done with Twenty Questions.”
“Why?” She tilted her head and looked over at him in that sexy but innocent way of hers.
“It’s better we don’t know so much about each other.” He refused to look into her eyes, and his gaze landed on the beating pulse at the base of her neck. He groaned inwardly.
“If that’s the way you want it.” Her back went broomstick straight. Her guard went up, and the warm, fascinating light died in her eyes. “I’d almost forgotten you’d tied me up and made me come here.” She shot him an accusatory glance.
He realized he enjoyed sparring with her as much as he enjoyed watching the blood pulse in her neck. He said, “Believe me, I didn’t have a choice.”
“We always have more than one option.” She took his measure and grimaced at w
hat she saw.
“Not in your case,” he said. It was a harsh reality to admit, but he had to make it plain to her who had the upper hand.
“We’ll see about that.” The steadfast gleam in her eyes hardened, and the threat in the watery depths matched his own for intensity.
He fought an urge to grab her and show her who was dominant, but she stood out of his reach and rubbed her arms. “You mentioned a generator. Where is it?”
“I’ll help you with it.” He tried to sit. Pain stabbed his shoulder and arm, and he froze, panting hard.
“Stay.” She held up a hand as if she were giving a command to a dog. “I don’t want you bleeding again. Though…” She tapped the side of her cheek. “Come to think on it, I wouldn’t mind another round with the poker.”
“What?”
She grinned with a craftiness that surprised him. “Never mind. I’ll find the generator on my own.” There was a self-sufficient confidence about her that annoyed him.
“You can’t start it.”
“Don’t tell me I can’t do something. I may be small and—what did you call me? Oh, yeah—‘gullible,’ but I certainly don’t need your help with a generator. My grandmother has one. I start it all the time when our power goes out on the reservation.” She wheeled in a huff and gave him her back as she flounced out of the room and headed for the back door.
He heard her stop in the kitchen. She must have realized she’d gone off half-cocked as she shouted, “Where can I find the generator?”
He didn’t know why, but he found himself grinning like a fool as he said, “The shed out back.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d grinned like that.
“Fine.”
The door slammed as she left.
For a second he wondered if she would return, and he found himself on edge, listening for her footsteps. If she was going to leave, she would have left last night. He relaxed back against the pillows and thought of her.
Nina Rainwater seemed all goodness and kindness and vulnerability, but she had a temper and a feisty determination, qualities he could even grow to admire. Still, he couldn’t trust her not to harm Ethan.
And what about the magic that surrounded her? He now knew why she shied at physical contact. She could feel his darkest desires, and they disturbed her. He didn’t like being laid open to anyone, especially her.
But that wasn’t the only problem with her. Her powers of attraction worked on him constantly. Was she as pure and virginal as she seemed? He wanted to explore that possibility, but he couldn’t. No—he wouldn’t. He frowned until he heard the generator roar to life. Then a grin twisted his lips.
Nina left the shed, glad to be out in the fresh air. The shack had been small, freezing cold and smelled of gasoline fumes. And she had hardly had enough room to pull-start the generator.
She sighed with relief as she left behind the loud hum of the engine that still rang in her ears. The sleet had put a hard crust on the surface of the snow, and with every step she had to break ice.
Luckily, the snow and sleet were tapering off; so was the wind. The sky looked lighter, too. The gunmetal clouds had turned to whale gray. Tiny flakes, mixed with ice, fell on her face and head and thumped against the borrowed jacket. The smell of Kane still clung to it and surrounded her. She found herself taking large whiffs of the material. He really did smell great and made her drool when she looked at him, though she couldn’t say there was anything inwardly likable about him.
She had to admit he could be charming and easy to talk to when he wanted to be. Hadn’t he expertly steered her into talking about the pain involved with losing those she tried to help? But when she had inquired about his personal life, he clammed up.
She wished now she hadn’t been so honest with him. But hadn’t he made her realize why she sought out the Quiet Place so often? It was the loss that depressed her and made her feel in need of rejuvenating.
She might have helped him realize something about himself if he hadn’t been so secretive about his life. She couldn’t stop wondering what in his past had made him so unhappy, cynical and remote. Maybe it had to do with his parents or brother. She had noticed a sadness drift into Kane’s expression when he had mentioned he cared about his brother. There must be a reason mentioning his brother had upset Kane and ended his few unguarded moments of candidness. He had said, “It’s better we don’t know too much about each other.” Initially, that had hurt her because she’d told him something very personal about herself. It was only right he reciprocated.
But now that she wasn’t near him and had time to think, she was glad he’d said it. She had let down her guard, but his words had made her aware of her present danger: that she was snowed in with a kidnapper, someone who was in league with a gleaner. No, now that she thought about it, it was better they stayed away from the personal stuff.
Her brow wrinkled in thought as she trudged through the white, crusty blanket. She felt her pants and long johns getting soaked. The cold went right through her shins and ankles and down into her hiking boots. When she bent over to knock away a piece of ice sticking to her corduroy pants, something caught her eye. She hadn’t seen the large tracks on her way out to the shed. They were snow-covered, but the deep indentation of them was unmistakable. Their trail led from the woods to a cabin window, then back into the woods.
She stuck her hand down into the impression. The animal’s foot was three inches wider. It wasn’t a bear track. She knew from helping bears that they left a barefoot-human type of print. The image of the gleaner flashed in her mind, and a chill slid down her spine.
She straightened and looked off into the woods. The trail led toward the mountaintop. Every warning signal in her body went off as she sensed something lurking behind the trees, a waiting malevolence, taut and heavy. She sensed a pair of eyes watching her from the shadows. Was the gleaner out there, spying on her, waiting for the right moment to pounce? The hairs along her neck crawled, even as a feeling of doom settled over her.
If she wanted to survive, she had to be vigilant and one step ahead of him. Impossible with Kane around. She had to be rid of him so she could fight the gleaner.
And why was the gleaner stalking her and not making his move? Was he waiting to ambush her alone? She remembered how Kane had hesitated and the gleaner had savagely attacked, but he hadn’t killed Kane. Maybe the gleaner just wanted her. A plan came to her, and she filed it away for later use.
Thankfully, she was only a few yards from the cabin, and she darted back inside. When she closed and locked the door, she let herself breathe again. She knew a locked door wouldn’t stop a gleaner’s killing powers, but it sure felt good to have four walls battened around her.
Her heart calmed while she stripped off the large coat and wet boots and peeked into the living room to check on Kane.
As if he felt her, he turned to look at her. His tawny hair fell down around his square jaw and shoulders. The stubble on his chin had thickened. He had pushed the blankets down to his waist, and she got an eyeful of brawny biceps and washboard abs above his jeans. She had wrapped the bandage over most of his pectorals, but she could see the swelled muscles there. She remembered every ridge and valley of his body beneath her fingertips when she had tended to his wounds. That strange heat he’d awakened in her began churning in her belly, and she blurted, “I’ll find something for us to eat.”
He gave her a noncommittal nod, looking aloof and brooding and wickedly handsome.
She ducked back into the kitchen and took cover there. She must stop getting all woozy around someone who had pushed her away and saw her as nothing but a captive. Stupid, stupid. She scolded herself as she heard the refrigerator turn on and an electric water heater popped in a closet. Modern conveniences, finally. She decided she’d wait for the water to heat up while she shed her wet socks and rolled up the hem of her damp pants.
Next she explored the refrigerator. Hardly anything there; only a few bars of cheese and two bottles of wine. Bags of F
rench fries and frozen steaks filled up the freezer. Even though the electricity had been off, the two-inch layer of frost encompassing the freezer had kept the bags frozen solid. She guessed Kane hunted his own food in the nearby woods when he came here. In seniph form he would be the ultimate predator. The vegetarian in her frowned at the thought.
She gave up on the refrigerator and dug deeply into the cabinets. Her plunder consisted of coffee, granola, a box of Pop-Tarts, some instant powdered milk and beef jerky, along with cans of tuna fish, caviar, hash, beans, Vienna sausages and beef stew. On the side of a cabinet, she discovered a whole wine rack filled with Van Cleave wines. They had a pretty wheat-colored label with black lettering. She read the labels: Merlot, Rosé, Zinfandel, Chardonnay, Blackberry, Blueberry and Pear. If she were a wine connoisseur, the offerings might have impressed her. The strongest thing she drank was herbal tea. Sad, her life was so boring.
She wished she had found a stash of chocolate milk or hot chocolate. Now, that would have excited her. Nothing really appetizing was here, but she could make something out of it.
She put the coffee on and searched for glasses and plates. That’s when she felt a presence. She whipped around to find Kane standing right behind her.
She jumped and said, “Good golly, you scared the life out of me.” She noticed he wasn’t standing straight. His shoulders were hunched a little, his expression a tableau of repressed pain as he tried to look all macho and threatening. He hadn’t put on his shirt, either. The fact she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his tanned body scared her much more than the actual act of him sneaking up on her.
“Did I?” His mercurial green eyes sharpened on her as he leaned against the door jamb.
“You shouldn’t be up.”
“I wondered what you were doing in here.” He watched her like a bored cat watched a mouse.
“I told you.”
All pretense of polite interest slipped from his face, and his eyes narrowed with an aggressive, deadly glint. “Something happened to you outside. What?”
“Nothing happened.”
