After Anstice told her about the bet he and Galen had made, any respect she had for the guy was washed down the sewer. She might have had flings herself in the past, but they were meaningful. She liked the guys she slept with and they lasted longer than one night. Shit, she only ended the relationships when she began caring too much for them.
Anstice tried to explain. “Waleron cancelled about an hour ago. Pressing business. Jedrik overheard and, despite Keir’s threats, he changed his plans and decided to stay in for the evening.” She gave her an “I am soooo sorry look” and passed her a glass of red wine.
Jedrik didn’t appear to take offense to the insult, rather the opposite. His boyish grin widened, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. Okay, she had to admit two years ago she’d have been on the guy like a badger. Player or not, Jedrik was handsome and tempting, although he acted more like a one-night stander rather than the flinger, which she defined as a sweet few months of hot sex.
Dinner was just bearable considering Jedrik sat across the table from her and every so often winked and flashed his pearly whites. A number of times, he offered to let her try whatever he was eating, as if they had different meals. When his mashed potatoes fell off his fork into his glass of wine as he tried to make an offering, she hid back the smile that threatened to surface. She had to give the guy credit, he never became embarrassed. His chuckle was contagious and after several more glasses of wine, she found herself relaxing.
It was two in the morning when Anstice and Keir announced that they were retiring for the evening. By the way they could barely keep their hands to themselves all night, Danielle figured they were far from retiring.
“We anticipated you staying,” Keir said. “Second floor, fifth door on the right is prepared for you.”
“I’ve drunk enough to blow the needle right off a breathalyzer,” Danielle said and laughed.
Anstice gave her a hug. “Night.” She lowered her voice. “It’s good to see you laugh. You look better.”
Danielle figured it was due to her flushed cheeks because of all the wine she consumed, but she did feel better. It had been a long time since she spent an evening with friends, eating, drinking and laughing. She was lucky to have them; even Jedrik—who was presently refilling her wine—had won her over.
He passed her the glass and sat on the chair across from the couch she was lounging on. She pulled off her shoes and tucked her legs beneath her.
Jedrik raised his glass. “To laughter.” Danielle toasted and sipped her wine. Silence. It was comforting sitting here, no thoughts of tomorrow or yesterday just enjoying the now. The past was swept under the coffee table until morning. She just wished she could keep it there.
“The past is past. It may be why we’ve become who we are, but it doesn’t have to be. Another past is seconds away,” Jedrik said.
“Wow, a philosopher and a charmer. What a mix,” Danielle said. How had he known what she was thinking? Strange, she thought.
Jedrik chuckled. “Can’t help it, love women. Beautiful, sexy, enticing and when they melt in my arms . . . well, nothing’s like it.”
“You mean when they fall into your bed.” Danielle smiled.
Jedrik laughed. “Well that too.”
“Don’t expect me to be one of those women, Jedrik. I might be tipsy, but I’m not obliterated enough to fall for your charisma.”
“I know,” Jedrik said, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating. “I just want you to know that if . . . if you ever need to . . .”
“Oh, spit it out. If I ever need to get back in the saddle, so to speak, you’ll be happy to oblige?” Damn him. Just when she was starting to like him, he had to go throw sex into the deal.
She got to her feet.
Jedrik put his glass down and rose, grabbing her hand before she could walk off. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I’m saying if you ever need to talk or just hang out, you know, go to the pub have a few drinks, shoot a little pool, well, I’m up for it. No sex. Just friends.”
Danielle slipped her hand from his grasp, her eyes narrowing. “Why? Because you feel sorry for me? Because I can’t get over what happened? Because I continually paint the same damn guy over and over again? Or maybe because . . .”
Before she knew what was happening, she was pulled into his arms and tears were sliding down her cheeks. Sobs raked her body, uncontrollable pain and hurt storming through her. Blasted wine.
Jedrik held her, his hands soothing as he rubbed them up and down her back, his voice whispering kind and gentle words. She didn’t know what he said, but he did eventually calm her down enough to a civil sobbing. She never cried in front of others. A weakness her father had displayed continually after her mother had died from lung cancer.
Jedrik drew back and pushed a strand of her hair away from her cheek. “I lost my best friend Delara. She just up and left one night a while back. You remind me of her, that’s all. Well, except Delara called me Arrow. She never called anyone by their real name. Always used nicknames.” He dropped his hand from her chin when he felt her pull back. “I miss her and I thought I could maybe take some of that pain away if I had you to do things with.”
Danielle was speechless. He just wanted a chick to hang with, no sex involved. “Oh,” she said.
Both jerked apart as the fireplace gave a loud burst and sparks soared up the chimney. Flames rose, bright orange pulsating like a heartbeat.
With the back of his hand he wiped her tears away. “So what do ya think? Tuesday night, pool, beer and wings at the Rivilie. Eight o’clock.”
“Deal, but—”
They both spoke at the same time. “Don’t be late.”
****
He paced back and forth along the shadowed tree line. Every muscle was contracting violently, including his heart. His enhanced tracking ability allowed him to scent her movements through the house even when walls impaired his vision. He felt her uneasiness in the beginning of the evening and then, as she ate dinner, how her body relaxed and her emotions became filled with laughter.
He scented her move into the living room and he could see her with Jedrik. His eyes remained focused on the pair. And then . . . his rage intensified and he hissed as their arms wrapped around one another. Without thought of the consequences, he approached the house ready to bust through the front door and take what no other man had the right to touch.
What stopped his recklessness were the tears staining her cheeks and sobs shaking her shoulders. His wrath eased and he slunk down behind the row of bushes outside the living room window. He watched and waited, scenting the sadness emanating from her pores.
He was taking a chance they would sense him, but he had to be near her. He needed to be certain she was protected. It was a driving force inside him he couldn’t control.
Two years he stayed away, fighting the toxic blood inside him that threatened to take his existence. Finally, he had done what no other Senses warrior had managed—he defeated the tainted blood he had consumed. Not that it mattered; according to their laws he was supposed to be eradicated—killed.
He still was taking an enormous risk, seeing her again. They’d know he was back and hunt him. But when he saw her again two nights ago, his entire world came crashing to a halt. An unquenchable thirst went through his body as if something had taken hold with an urgency that he couldn’t understand.
He’d seen the painting above her bed, the portrait of himself. She’d captured his eyes perfectly, just the right shade of green. What bothered him about it was that his hair was wet in the painting like it had been when they were trapped in the cages. She’d remembered something from that night, which was not supposed to happen. Waleron had erased her memories of the incident in order to protect the Senses from being discovered.
What he did know was that he was the cause of her constant confusion. All he wanted was to see her happy again—see her radiant smile and have it reach the depths of her eyes.
The air around him shifted and he scented
Keir’s intense emotions, a distinct warning that he had been detected. It was inevitable.
Shit, he had to get out of here before some ass was kicked, most likely his, considering Keir and Jedrik together were an unfair advantage.
With a final glance at Danielle, he took off into the darkness.
****
Jedrik’s arm hooked Danielle’s as he propelled her away from the living room window. He pressed her backbone against the wall in the foyer, his arm locking across her chest like a safety bar on a roller-coaster.
Keir and Anstice came running down the stairs.
“What the hell?” Danielle narrowed her eyes at Jedrik with disdain. “Take your arm off my chest, for Christ’s sake.” He lowered his arm and her rising anxiety dissipated.
She didn’t hear words pass between the two men, but it was as if they’d spoken when Jedrik gave Keir a curt nod then ran out the front door. Keir took off through the living room into the kitchen and out the back door.
“What the hell’s going on?” She rubbed her temple, trying to clear her mind from the fog of too many glasses of Yellow Tail.
Anstice shifted her feet and avoided looking directly at her. “Umm, yeah well, the alarm sounded. A silent alarm. Someone’s on the property. The boys will check it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Noticing her friend’s hands intertwined in a rigid grip, Danielle’s suspicion heightened. Oh, she was hiding something all right. “Don’t bullshit me, Anstice. I hate it when you do that. Just tell me, damn it.”
Anstice looked down at her hands and then immediately let her arms drop to her sides. Danielle’s brows rose. Yeah, something was up and it was far from nothing.
“Fine, you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll find out for myself.” Danielle headed for the front door, knowing full well that Anstice would stop her before she opened it. They’d been best friends for over twenty years, predicting each other’s actions had become second nature.
“Danielle.” Anstice stepped forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a stop. “I . . . I can’t tell you. God, I want to. I . . . I can’t. Please, just trust me.”
Danielle gaped. “What do you mean, you can’t? It’s me. Pinkie swears, remember? We’ve never had secrets from one another in our entire lives.” She dropped Anstice’s hand and crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “Tell me.”
Anstice closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, Danielle saw the tears in the rims. Shit, it was bad. Whatever she was hiding was colossal. Maybe Anstice had a stalker? Her ex-boyfriend Richard? No, Richard was a coward. He wouldn’t be caught dead lurking around in the night. Besides, he’d ruin his Armani suit.
“Anstice?” Danielle urged.
The front door opened and Jedrik and Keir came inside, both halting at what must have looked like a standoff between the two women.
Answers weren’t forthcoming from Anstice, so she turned her attention onto Keir. “What’s going on? Who’s outside?”
Keir’s attempt at being intimidating was . . . well, working. Bestial man, she thought. His scowl was like a feral wolf ready to pounce on its prey. She unconsciously took a step back but kept her eyes fixated on him. For a brave effect she raised her brows.
“I believe a man from my past has returned,” Keir said. “I’m uncertain as to why, nevertheless the last time we encountered one another it was rather antagonistic, so I’m expecting the worst.”
“I knew it. You’re involved with drugs,” Danielle said. Bastard was dragging Anstice down with him—over my dead body. Rarely did she consider consequences to her actions or words—that often came later. At high school it happened when she was sitting in the principal’s office, a common occurrence.
It took her two steps to reach Keir’s unmovable six-foot-four stature. She raised her fist, intent on popping him one right between his haughty eyes for putting her friend in such a perilous position.
Her fist never made contact as Jedrik wrapped his arm around her waist, trapping her arms to her sides. The guy had a thing for safety bars.
“It’s not drugs, hellion,” Jedrik said. “Just some guy pissed at Keir for being the better man. Okay, not true, but close enough.” His grip slipped to her wrist, locking onto it as he urged her towards the stairs.
Danielle tensed. A shiver ran down her spine and her mind began to do the flight-or-die thing. She attempted to pull her hand out of his shackled grip as he jibber-jabbered on about something, completely oblivious to her rising panic. The unbearable feeling of being trapped came hurtling at her full throttle. Shivers crawled across her skin like tiny spiders.
The sound of the dead bolt clicking closed on the front door was the final straw. Danielle wrenched free of Jedrik and stumbled to the side and then backwards.
Manacles. Click. Chains on her wrists. Click. Her ankles. Click.
Oh God, she’d been tied down. A table. Cold. So cold. She rubbed her wrists, where the scars were still visible.
“Whoa, you okay, sugar?” Jedrik asked, coming towards her.
Sugar. That word. He had called her that. She felt the bile rise in her throat.
She backed away, arms outstretched to ward off Jedrik. She banged into the front door and felt behind her for the deadbolt. She recoiled as it clicked again.
Keir and Anstice were staring at her, their expressions distressing, as if they . . . as if they knew what memory had plagued her thoughts. But that was impossible. No one knew what had happened.
Anstice took a step towards her, but Keir pulled her back to his side.
“I can’t . . . I have to . . . get out of here. I can’t . . . breathe.” Danielle threw open the front door.
The fresh air cut into her like a bucket of ice water. She took three deep breaths before darting out into the frigid air.
She heard footsteps coming up behind her and raced down the steps to her car. She tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. It wouldn’t open. Christ, get me out of here. She used both hands hauling on the slim length of metal.
“Shit.” She slammed her fist down on the roof.
The sound pulsated over and over, the click as it snapped around each wrist, each ankle. She had been cold. Freezing. Her back aching, spine digging into . . . God, why couldn’t she remember?
“I’m sober. I’ll drive you,” Jedrik said, coming up behind her. “Always wanted to give a Mini Cooper a whirl. Dying to do the Italian Job thing. Ever drive down stairs?” He held her keys and jacket in his hands. He placed her coat around her shoulders and then walked around to the opposite side of the car and opened the passenger side door.
“I . . . I . . . yeah, that’d be good.” She gripped the edges of her coat closer to her body as she went and slid into the bucket seat.
They remained silent for the first five minutes, just the purr of the engine as Jedrik shifted gears. The panic eased and the puzzling memories drifted back into the black void of her mind.
“So, ever do anything fun with this car?” Jedrik asked.
“I drove over a grass park once to get out of a traffic jam,” Danielle said, needing to hear the blithe tone that Jedrik exuded.
Jedrik’s brows rose. “Impressive.”
Silence. She knew Jedrik was trying to give her a little space to catch her breath. She appreciated the gesture, realizing that the guy wasn’t always a dick. She was actually beginning to like him. His outward I-am-God’s-gift-to-women display was a game to him, a way to get attention, and it worked.
“Thank you. For driving me. I’ll give you money for a cab, or just take my car. I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Danielle suggested.
“Think I’ll steal your car. It rocks,” Jedrik flashed a dazzling grin.
Danielle smiled. “You’re an okay guy despite the annoying habit of sharing food across the table.”
“Too forward?” Jedrik scrunched up his nose.
“Disgusting when you’re talking mashed potatoes. Stick to desserts.”
Jedrik laughed. “Advice ta
ken.” He turned down Bathurst Street and shifted into third gear. “Wanna talk about it?”
Did she? Maybe she needed to talk to someone about all the shit she heard that caused flashes of memories. Someone like Jedrik, who was blasé. Anstice avoided the subject as if it were a disease, and the therapist at the hospital had been too intense.
“Manacles. I remember them around my wrists and ankles,” Danielle blurted out. She subconsciously rubbed her wrists, which she often did when she was uncomfortable. “Certain sounds give me flashes. Like clips of a movie, except . . . I feel the emotions as if I were back there again.” She glanced down at the jagged raised lines on her wrists. “The doctors told me I was bitten numerous times on my neck, but they don’t know by what. Sometimes I thank God I can’t remember what happened.” She paused, trying to sort out her thoughts. “But it’s worse. How can I get over something when I don’t know what that something is? Doctors, nurses, the police . . . they all told me what they think happened, but the guy has never been caught and I can’t remember. It’s frustrating. Like this blanket is smothering me all the time. I think I have to remember, so I can finally get over it.”
He shifted into fourth gear, his expression sincere. “You’re a realist. Ambiguity drives you nuts. I get it. You need resolution.” He pulled up in front of her art gallery on Queen Street West and put on the parking break. He looked at her without pity or sympathy, instead with unassuming sapphire eyes. “You’re a tough cookie, Danielle. I won’t try to give advice that’s a bunch of baloney. But I’m a first-rate listener and damn good at being there when you need someone.” He flashed a charismatic grin. “And I’m a handsome guy to hang with.”
She rolled her eyes. “Inhibition is out of your realm of expertise, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “Try to keep my car on all fours. I already have three speeding tickets with this Mini.”
She went to get out of the car when Jedrik touched her hand. “Hey, you need company tonight? I like the couch.”
JUMP (The Senses) Page 3
