“I am paying attention,” Holt said with a smirk. The message that passed between him and Bella sizzled. Kaitlin was surprised no one else caught it. You didn’t have to have psychic energies to feel the heat scouring the room between them.
Holt’s arousal swelled. Kaitlin shot him a look. She didn’t mean to, it just happened. He caught her eye and stilled. A flush rose on his cheeks. And then he laughed. “Sorry,” he murmured.
She patted him on the arm. “Just try not to leap on her until you’re private,” she whispered. She loved that her friends knew her and accepted her as she was. They weren’t freaked out, like so many people were, when she read their secrets as though they wore them on sandwich boards.
Holt chuckled. “I’ll try.” He reached an arm behind her, draping it over the back of the couch, but didn’t touch her. They all knew how uncomfortable it made her to be touched and were always careful. All but Drew, who sometimes forgot. He tried to remember, though, and she appreciated that.
How odd that it hadn’t hurt when Parker had held her. There had been that first moment of discomfort, but she hadn’t felt it again. And when she’d kissed him…when he’d kissed her, there had been nothing but pleasure.
Astonishing.
His mouth had been on hers. Covering hers. She hadn’t felt a raging agony. There had been no flail of panic. No suffocating sensation.
Just the flash of excitement and…a hunger for more.
Drew, who was watching her with a simmering focus, frowned and said in an overloud voice, “I give up Bella. Kaitlin, what is it?”
Everyone turned to her expectantly. She sighed and stored all thoughts of Parker away…for later. “Twelve Monkeys.”
“Yes!” Bella crowed tapping her nose. “You got it! Your turn.”
“But I don’t want to—”
Bella grabbed her arm and pulled her off the couch and into the middle of the room. “You have to. It’s the rules.”
“I hate this game.” And not only because she sucked at it. She hated when people gawked at her. Even if they were her friends.
But fate was with her. She reached into the bowl and pulled out a slip of paper. Read it and fell to the ground in an overblown death scene.
“Die Hard!” Drew bellowed as he leaped to his feet.
“No fair!” Kristi cried. “That was an easy one.”
Kaitlin sat up and grinned at her. “It was in the bowl.”
“No fair!” But Kristi couldn’t hold back her smile.
The game continued on with Drew and then Tara and then Bella again taking a turn. Kaitlin joined in the fun, laughing and joking—and not guessing. And not taking the lead again.
She simply leaned back on the couch and soaked it in. This circle of friends, their ridiculous antics. Their friendship and love. She let it slip into her and suffuse her and remind her of all the good in the world.
Chapter Four
She woke up at dawn, though she hadn’t slept very well, with a sudden urge to walk on the beach. Tiptoeing around the room so she wouldn’t wake Jamie, she found shorts, a tee shirt and windbreaker, and then stepped into her flip flops and eased into the hall.
The house was quiet. As she came down the stairs the first rays of dawn were lightening the water. She flicked on the coffee maker so it would be ready by the time she got back, or if anyone else woke up, and she opened the slider.
She loved the dawn. Such a peaceful time of day. The birds in the trees were just starting to chirp and the breeze was still cool and kissed with the mists of night. She drew in a deep breath as she made her way down the steps to the beach and then followed the shore toward the point. The damp sand was hard beneath her feet, but if she glanced back she saw the little ponds her footsteps made as the indents filled with water. She wasn’t sure why this amused her, but it did.
Little things like that just did.
As she rounded the point, the little island to the northwest came into view, hunkered as it was in trails of fog. It looked lonely and bereft. A shiver walked through her.
She shook the feeling off. Like so many others, it made no sense. She’d always been filled with far-fetched notions. Some of them turned out to be something. Others did not. The little island was just an island. The little puddles in the sand were just footprints. There was nothing more to it.
As a girl, Kaitlin had trusted all of her instincts, followed every hunch. As a result, she frequently got into trouble, or annoyed her friends. Occasionally the neighbors. Her mother had told her—more than once—to grow up, that she was fanciful and overdramatic. And Kaitlin had believed her. She’d tried very hard to ignore the whispers—despite her bone-deep conviction they were real.
It wasn’t until she was twelve, and met her Aunt Cecily, that she learned the truth. “The Gift” ran in the family. Everyone was touched, although it had skipped Kaitlin’s mother. She’d gone so far as to move herself and Kaitlin to Seattle to get away from “the crazy.”
Aunt Cecily had explained everything. She’d helped Kaitlin make sense of the swirling sentiments, the overwhelming onslaughts, the knowledge. She’d given her tips and tricks to deal with, what her mother called “her condition.”
It had taken years for Kaitlin to come into her own. To be confident and strong. To learn how to use her gift for the best of all. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Cecily’s guidance, she would probably have been locked in a loony bin long ago. Now she accepted it as a part of herself, even if other people couldn’t.
Her mother still avoided her sometimes as though she had a plague.
A movement in the tree line ahead caught her attention and Kaitlin stopped in her tracks. A man wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans—despite the fact it was summer—stood there, hands on his hips, staring up into the branches.
She recognized his aura.
How could she not? She’d thought about it all night long.
Timidity swamped her and, for a moment, she considered turning around and heading back to the house, but for some reason, her feet moved her toward him.
Oh, she knew the reason. She was drawn to him. In a way she’d never experienced before. Like filings to a magnet. And she wanted, ached, to be with him again.
He turned as she approached, and then did a double take.
“Oh. Hi, Kaitlin,” he said.
“Good morning, Parker.” She tipped up her head. “What’s up there?”
He frowned. “Some idiot flew a kite and the strings got tangled in the limbs. And they left it there.” He peered up into the rustling branches. “Something’s caught. I think it’s an eagle.”
Kaitlin’s heart lurched. She reached out and felt the energy. Fear. Pain. Panic. And yes. It was an eagle. “We must free it.”
He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. I have a Swiss army knife,” he pulled it out of his pocket and cradled it in his palm. “But if I climb up there to cut it loose, I’m afraid I might hurt it more as it tries to escape.”
She took off her jacket. “Wrap it in this and be sure to cover its eyes. It may not work, but birds usually calm when they cannot see. Then cut the main lines holding it and carry it down. We can remove all the string and hopefully, it’s not too injured to fly.”
He met her gaze. “Good idea. Is there a Waystation around here, in case it’s hurt?”
Kaitlin shook her head. “There’s one on the mainland.”
“Well, fingers crossed then.” He took her jacket and slung it over his shoulder then opened the knife and gripped it with his teeth.
Kaitlin watched, her pulse thudding in her throat as he climbed high into the branches. As he neared, the eagle began to thrash. Kaitlin tried to send it calming waves.
Several grunts and curses wafted through the boughs, and then snaps and cracks as Parker made his way down the tree. “I got him,” he called as he reached the bottom with the eagle swathed in her jacket.
He shouldn’t have called.
The raptor began to thrash again and a t
alon swiped out and caught Parker across his abdomen.
He hissed as a long red stain appeared on his shirt, but to his credit, he didn’t lose hold of the bird. Kaitlin ran forward to help.
“Stay back,” he hissed. “You’ll get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt,” she said, grasping the exposed talon with one hand and setting her hand on the body of the bird, whispering to it. It continued to fight for a moment, and then settled.
“How did you do that?” Parker asked.
Kaitlin just smiled. “Lay him on the sand. Let’s cut him from the string.” She could see how tightly the string bound the poor creature. It must have been struggling for hours.
“I dropped the knife,” Parker said nodding his head toward the tree.
“I’ll get it.” Kaitlin leaped up and ran for the base of the tree, quickly finding the red knife against the brown pine needles. She pulled out the tiny scissors as she hurried back. “Hold him still while I cut him free.”
Parker grunted as a talon flashed again catching him on the sleeve of his shirt.
”He’s just frightened,” she said in a lulling tone as she began to snip the lines. “Nothing to be afraid of here, little eagle. We’re here to help you. We’re not going to hurt you. No. We’re not.”
She focused on calming the frightened bird as she worked, pouring all her concentration into the task, gratified that the creature seemed to understand she was trying to save it.
She was amazing.
Parker watched her as she worked. Not her fingers, her face. Her entire countenance was imbued with light, with a serene, soothing confidence. The bird felt it. He certainly did as well.
Her coos reminded him of a lullaby from long ago, so long ago it was swamped in darkness, but somehow, it shone through.
He held the eagle as still as he could as she worked, all the while entranced by the spell she was weaving over the bird. Over them both.
As she cut away the string, being careful not to snip a feather, she peeled back the jacket until she reached the head. With a sigh, she snipped the last line.
The raptor observed her with unblinking eyes, surreally relaxed, as though it understood. It was a magnificent animal with thick muscled shoulders and legs and a wicked hooked beak.
“Okay now. I’m done. I got it all. Ease the jacket away and let him try to stand.”
Parker did so, ready to make a grab for the bird if it suddenly attacked. It was large enough to do serious damage to an alabaster face. Kaitlin seemed to have no fear. She cooed again, encouraging it to struggle to its feet. It took one step, two, then spread its wings. It flapped once and then, with a small hop, took off in a great whoosh, soaring into the sky, letting out a gleeful cry.
She stared after it, her eyes wide, lips parted.
He’d never seen anything more magnificent.
Her face, that was. His attention was locked on it.
“You were wonderful,” he said.
She laughed. “You were. Climbing up that tree… Capturing the bird. Bringing it back down without hurting it, even though it was struggling…”
Their gazes tangled.
For some reason, he was suffused in the memory of last night’s kiss, though in truth, it had never been far from his mind.
His ardor rose.
He wanted to kiss her again. Here. Now.
Wanted more, perhaps.
She looked away, as though the intensity between them was too strong. Her focus snagged on his shirt. Her eyes went wide. “You’re hurt.”
He glanced down. Yeah, it was pretty bad.
“Let me see.” She tugged at his shirt, lifting it.
No! A voice screamed in his head. Don’t let her see. Parker lurched back, out of reach. “It’s nothing.”
She frowned at him. “It’s not nothing. And there’s another cut on your arm.”
Yeah. He felt that one, a throbbing ache. As pain went, it wasn’t too bad. “It’s okay.” He stood and teetered a little as his head went light. She was there by his side in a heartbeat, looping her arm around his waist so she could help him walk.
What a joke. She was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen. If he fell, there was no way she could stop it.
But he let her help him. Because he couldn’t bear to refuse. It felt too good, touching her again. They made their way back to Ash’s house on the wet sand at the surf line because it made walking easier. When they got to her place, she turned to head up the stairs, but he stopped. She peered up at him. “Here?”
He shook his head and pointed to the house next door. “I’m over here.”
She nodded, as though she understood his need to be in a familiar place, and allowed him to guide her to the basement door. He was glad he’d taken that room, especially now. The stairs up to the main deck seemed like the slopes of Kilimanjaro. Though it hadn’t hurt so much on the beach, the cut to his abdomen was really starting to sting and the blood stain was becoming alarming.
The bottom floor of Ash’s place was a daylight basement that stretched the breadth of the house, though not much daylight seeped in. But there was enough to see, as Parker made his way across the room to the bedroom in the corner. He flicked on the light and collapsed on the bed. Damn. That did hurt.
“First aid kit?” she asked in a no nonsense voice.
“In the bathroom. Under the sink.” He nodded in that direction.
When she took off to find it, he carefully peeled back his shirt and frowned. The cut was nasty, but not too deep. He wouldn’t need stitches, but it would have to be wrapped and he’d probably need to go see Doctor Marks first thing on Monday. Maybe get a rabies shot or something.
A gasp from the doorway shot through him like a bullet. He yanked his shirt down but it was too late; he could tell by the expression on her face, she’d seen. “It’s not bad,” he said in a light voice.
She snorted and dumped gauze, peroxide, antiseptic and tape on the bed.
And then she dropped to her knees before him.
Holy Jesus God. She dropped to her knees before him. In his bedroom.
A devastating lust swept away the mortification that she’d seen his scars. He nearly lost consciousness. Despite the fact he was in pain, his cock rose.
What was it about this woman?
On her knees before him?
“It needs tending,” she said, ripping open a package of gauze and setting it aside. “Lift your shirt.”
He cringed.
Lift his shirt?
On purpose?
In front of a woman?
A woman he wanted to—
“Lift. Your. Shirt.” Her tone brooked no refusal.
“Kaitlin…” He should warn her. She’d seen it, but maybe she hadn’t really seen it.
“Parker, I need to get some peroxide on it and quickly. Please. Lift your shirt.”
Well hell.
It had been a nice fantasy, while it lasted. Once she saw, she’d run screeching the other way. They all did. Or, if they didn’t screech, their noses would curl up and their faces would go all cold. And then they’d quietly run away.
Slowly, he pulled up the hem.
And hell. Yes. Her nose wrinkled.
But she didn’t run.
She touched him. She touched his scars—mottled and discolored and ugly—thumbing them gently. “Hmm,” she said, turning away to open the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and soaking the gauze with it. She met his gaze saying, “This will be cold,” before daubing it on his cut.
He flinched when she touched him.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Did that hurt?”
“No.” It didn’t hurt. But then, it wouldn’t.
Most of the nerves there were dead. The only place it burned was on the sides, where his scars weren’t quite so thick.
She gently dabbed at him, making sure to get the antiseptic over the whole cut. “I’m going to cover this, but I need to wrap it around your waist,” she said. “It will be easier if you take off your sh
irt.”
God. No.
His belly was bad enough. But the rest of him?
“Kaitlin…”
“I need to do your arm too.”
“I can do my arm.”
She sent him a mocking pout. “Parker, let me help you. You helped me last night. It would be my honor to return the favor.”
God bless her. She was so damn sincere and genuine. How could he explain?
“I don’t like taking off my shirt,” he said. Well, that didn’t explain much. Then again, it explained everything. “These scars…” He waved to his exposed stomach. Hell he could barely stand to look at it himself. He hated the way he looked. Had since he was five.
“Yes?”
He sucked in a breath, steeling his spine. “I have them…all over.”
She set her hand on his knee. Her jaw went slack. Her eyes glazed over. “Wow,” she said after a long moment. She cleared her throat. “That must have hurt a lot.”
He cracked a grin. He did not know why. “Yes. Yes it did.”
“Okay. Now take off your shirt.”
“Kaitlin…”
“Just do it, Parker. Let me wrap this up and then you can put your armor back on.” This she said gently, with no discernible derision. It was horrifying how she seemed to see right through to his soul. Then again, it was comforting as well.
Which was probably why he did it…why he took the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulled it off. Exposing himself to another human—not in the medical profession—for the first time in years.
Chapter Five
Kaitlin forced her features into a blasé moue and got to work wrapping the long gauze around Parker’s abdomen, holding the bandage in place. What she’d seen in that moment of time, when he’d stared into her eyes, had devastated her.
Such pain. Such agony.
And the physical pain had been the very least of it. A mere twinge in a sea of anguish.
His chest was, indeed, covered with scars. Old ones and newer ones. She understood now that flicker of pain she’d felt the first time they’d touched. That scorch of flames. He’d been burned, and burned badly. There were thick patches and other, funny colored spots where they’d done grafts. There were long incisions where some other procedures had been done. And God knew what else. One round puckered scar on his chest looked like a bullet wound. Kaitlin couldn’t help soothing her palm over the spots that glowed red in his aura, willing healing energy to seep down deep.
Parker's Passion Page 4
