JUMP (The Senses)

by Cindy Paterson

  Danielle noticed the two of them shift their gazes to the north. The woman swore and Danielle thought how bizarre it was to hear curses coming from her mouth. She seemed too fragile . . . no, not fragile, rather too enthralling with her strong features and perfect skin.

  “Leave,” the woman said. Her gaze shot to Danielle and then back to him. “I will see that she returns home safe. He won’t be pleased but—” she shrugged, “—he is never pleased, is he?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You fought and won. You are still one of us.”

  “You trust me?” Balen raised his brows.

  She gave an abrupt nod. “Leave.”

  “I’ve returned for judgment. I will not run,” he said.

  “What judgment? What are you talking about?” Danielle asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

  The woman looked to the north again. “Fine. Do as you will, but for now go. Walk back on your own accord, not as a prisoner. I will keep him occupied.”

  Balen gave an abrupt nod and turned to Danielle.

  “What’s going on?” Danielle asked, easing out of his grasp. Jealousy she’d never before experienced, now settled inside as if an ember of wood slowly burning.

  “Danielle I . . . be well,” he said and then took off in a dead run.

  The woman turned to her. “Go inside.” She nodded to an approaching figure. “Meeting this man is not in your best interest.” Danielle hesitated. “Fine. Stay. Just realize that this guy has killed sweet young women without a second thought of remorse.”

  Danielle glanced once more at the forthcoming tall figure and then turned and ran.

  ****

  Delara waited, listening to snow crumble beneath his feet as he drew closer.

  Facing Waleron alone was something she had never intended to do again. Her body betrayed her with marshmallow legs, a racing heart and flushed complexion as memories came rushing back to humiliate her further.

  Jesus Christ, she was a bowl of Jell-O whenever he was near. It was all she could do to remain standing as his eyes met hers with that familiar glint of blue. A blue that made all the reasons she left come rushing to the surface like saltwater being poured over open wounds. She thought the hurt had been erased after all this time, but instead the pain came slamming back into her body.

  He reached her in three strides with long confident legs that she had tried desperately to expunge from her mind. The man who inundated her dreams and plagued her waking thoughts. Okay, forgetting him was like attempting to forget that you were a Senses warrior.

  He didn’t touch her and he didn’t have to, for she could feel his breath seeping into her as if his fingertips were caressing her skin. It wounded—broke every shred of dignity she had to have him stand before her with that familiar stoic expression. No remorse at what he’d done. No arms to encase her into his hidden world, which she had shared with him for a moment in time before he shut her out.

  Bastard. Cold, callous bastard.

  Waleron stared, eyes like ice, voice even colder. “I will ask once. Why?”

  “An explanation?” She had no qualms about repeating herself—cold, callous bastard. “That’s all you want and yet you know the answer, don’t you? I made it clear and you made yourself crystal clear. Nothing more to be said.” She tilted her head up, meeting his expressionless face, knowing that, inside, his thoughts were streaming through his mind, yet he never shared them with her, or anyone else for that matter.

  His hand reached forward and she stood completely still. Her insides were liquefying with anticipation of his touch. God, she wanted him to touch her again. Did this craving ever disappear? No, he was like nicotine’s hold on her mind and body.

  When the back of his hand stroked her cheek, she thought her knees would give way, but it was his eyes that kept her standing, a translucent blue that locked her in place.

  “I thought,” Waleron began, and then he changed his mind and grabbed the back of her neck. His hand was gentle, but at the same time forceful, as though he wouldn’t take any refusal on her part if she decided to bolt. His breath wafted across her face and then his lips followed, seeking the warmth of her own as they met like they belonged and had never separated after all this time.

  He roamed her mouth, sensual, calm and serene. It was his tongue that drove her hands to seek his chest, palms resting on the tattooed muscles that remained covered by his black shirt. His fingers stroked the back of her neck, and goose bumps rose across her skin, while their tongues danced a slow and sexual song.

  When she moaned beneath his kiss, she instantly felt his withdrawal. No, she thought. Don’t do this again; don’t pull away from me. It hurts too much.

  But it was too late. Already, she felt the tension in him, the coldness seeping across his body to leak into her. God, he made her hate herself.

  Her hands fell from his chest and she shivered from the cold. Time couldn’t erase him. The realization hit her that she’d never break away from this man. Tears fell, and she was disgusted with herself for allowing him to see her like this.

  “Why? Why do you continue to do this?” Delara asked.

  He kept his gaze riveted on her, but she saw the anger and it terrified the living hell out of her. But she had learned one thing in the two years she’d been away, and that was no matter how scared she was, she had to stand her ground. “God, don’t look at me like it was my fault. I had to. You left me with . . .” Her knees weakened at the thought of him being angry with her. She could deal with anything except his anger. She’d survive without his love, but living with his bitterness?

  “You left!” Waleron voice rose to the stars. “You fuckin’ left!”

  Oh shit, he was livid. He never swore.

  His voice was so filled with rage that it took Delara every ounce of courage to remain standing in front of him.

  “Two years, Delara. Two years I searched for you. Nothing. No e-mail. No messages. No mind connection. No anything. For that, I won’t forgive.” He took out his Pez.

  Oh, that makes sense. Reach for the Pez. She hated the damn thing.

  Her hand shot out and she grabbed the candy dispenser, flinging it into the snow.

  “You walked away,” Delara said. “You walked away from me. You chose life without me. What was I supposed to do? Watch you go off to have sex with Trinity and whoever else was the flavor of the month?” His eyes flashed a red and she took a step back. Her mind kept telling her to run, but she couldn’t. Not this time. He had never hurt her physically. No, only Tarek had slammed his fist into her body over and over again like a goddamn punching bag.

  “It was necessary. You know this,” Waleron said.

  “Bullshit. You chose to. We all have choices and you chose to sleep with that witch for her visions. I get it . . . you protect us . . . all of us, but that doesn’t mean I have to stand around and watch you with another woman.”

  “You will return to us,” he said. She huffed at that familiar tone that meant business. “I will not let you leave us again,” Waleron declared with ferocity.

  Stand your ground. She tilted her chin up to help with her self-confidence. “No, Pez. I’m not coming back to live at the house. And if you force this, I will retaliate. I need more time away from . . . the Talde. I deserve this.”

  His frustration was evident by the subtle twitch in his left cheek. She knew it well, just like everything else to do with this man. “I want you in the Toronto House Talde. With Balen gone, you are our only Tracker. You are a warrior. It is your duty to protect our kind,” Waleron said.

  Her back stiffened. He had no right to ask this of her.

  Couldn’t he see, didn’t he feel her love when he touched her, or was he so oblivious to others’ feelings that he saw it only as lust between them? “I will aid them if needed. Otherwise, I’m staying elsewhere.”

  “And Tarek?” Waleron asked.

  Bastard had to bring up him. “He is still in Rest, as you are well aware. I’ll deal with it w
hen the time comes.”

  “You cannot defeat him, Delara. His Resting period will be over in a year.”

  “It isn’t your problem,” Delara said. Yeah, but knowing Waleron, he’d make it his problem. The guy had an issue with allowing others deal with their own tribulations. An addiction to protectiveness—among other things.

  Waleron closed his eyes for a second longer than usual and for an instant she thought she saw his pain, but then again maybe she’d been imagining it. “I cannot give you what you seek, Delara. You know this. I made it clear that night. I will never love again.”

  “Yeah, and I was ever the fool to think that maybe that one night would change your mind. Well, I’m not a fool anymore, Pez. I’ve grown up and I’m stronger. So be angry. Throw a tantrum and hate me for what I did and will do again. Because I want love. I want something you can’t give, so I will find love elsewhere.” She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. The lies poured out and she knew he was uncertain whether her words spoke truth. She felt him pushing at her mind, but she managed to keep her thoughts blocked. Not this time, Waleron. You can’t hurt me again.

  She wanted more. A hell of a lot more. Truth, passion, the ultimate giving between two people. He had all those qualities within him, somewhere deep in his black heart. She’d seen his laughter, his gentle touch and his teasing. The only time in her life that she felt truly alive and happy. Then it all shattered to pieces. With one caress of his hand across her cheek, he’d told her that never again would they be together.

  She’d been so foolish to believe.

  All those years she’d hoped and prayed Waleron would come to his senses, but he never did. And his coldness had seeped into her like a leech, sucking out her heart and pulling her under so she couldn’t breathe. If she stayed near him without his love any longer she’d become like him, cold and unfeeling.

  The deal he made with Trinity had been the last straw. To stand in front of him, Trinity at his side, and know that he would spend the week within her seductive arms—it had killed the last shred of hope she had for them. If he had one ounce of compassion for her, he’d never have made that bargain with that witch Trinity. So she had left wounded, bleeding and alone. Jedrik had been devastated, but facing Waleron after he . . . no, she couldn’t.

  “We need you,” Waleron said.

  He said we. Not I need you. Screw that. “I returned to help with the issue of Balen . . . and then I will leave again.” This was the only way.

  “You are a great warrior, Delara. You can’t keep running.”

  “Yeah, watch me. Watch me walk away and I swear I won’t look back. And you know why? Because I’m over you. I’ve healed, Pez. You mean nothing to me and I won’t stay under your control again.” The lies tumbled out, unable to be stopped. Hate him, Delara. Break his blasted heart. But no, Waleron didn’t have a heart, did he?

  She turned on her heel, her heart hoping that he’d call her back, her common sense knowing that he never would. He wanted her close to him but he refused to love her.

  Please call out to me. Please stop me. Love me like I know you can. She kept her head high, her tears back, as she walked into the shadows of the night. His voice never called, his stance never moved a muscle.

  And she never looked back.

  Chapter 4

  Damn him, Danielle fumed as she walked down the sidewalk the next evening. Selfish bastard had chosen to run away instead of explaining what the hell was going on. Well, screw him. She stopped at the red-and-white post indicating a streetcar stop.

  She was going to find out what happened if it was the last thing she did. She’d sat around for two years being haunted by flashes of memories—well, that time had ended. With or without help she was going to discover the truth. Someone had to remember something and give her a lead. The first place she intended to check was the hospital.

  It took twenty minutes of sucking up, two twenty-dollar bills and tear-filled eyes to find out the name of the nurse who had attended her two years ago. It took another fifteen minutes to discover where she was working in the enormous hospital. Luckily, a candy striper knew exactly who Nurse Susan was and what floor she was currently on.

  Danielle took the stairs to the fifth floor, as riding the elevator was out of the question considering her problem with small, enclosed spaces of late. She recognized the woman the moment she saw her walking down the sterile hallway. She had a large nose that curved up at the tip, a splatter of freckles on her cheeks and wide, gentle hazel eyes. Her wide hips swayed back and forth, and a stethoscope that was looped around her neck swung with the motion.

  Danielle intercepted her before she walked into Room 510.

  “Oh, it’s you. My sweet dear, how are you?” She touched Danielle’s arm. “How you making out, sweetie?”

  Danielle smiled. She remembered the nurse clearly, her kind and compassionate words that offered support and warmth. When she had screamed and thrown tantrums of fury, Nurse Susan remained calm and sympathetic. Susan was the one who had informed her what they thought had happened. Abducted. Tortured.

  When the doctor had come in and tried to look at her wounds, she remembered completely freaking out. They had to sedate her, so he could examine her. But it was Nurse Susan who quietly explained their findings and even remained present when the police came to ask questions.

  “I’m, umm, well, fine thank you. I just wanted to ask you, did anyone come visit me? You know, before I gained consciousness or maybe when I was asleep? Anything strange?”

  “Oh, my poor girl, still no memory? It does happen when something traumatic occurs. It’s a way for the mind to protect itself.”

  “I need to know,” Danielle raised her voice a tad too much, and the two nurses at the nursing station raised their heads and frowned. “Sorry, I just have flashes of what happened. You know, certain sounds that make me cringe, smells that I can’t stand any longer. Well, and there’s this man.” Danielle took out a sketch of Balen and passed it to the nurse. “Do you recall seeing him around at all?”

  “No. No, definitely not, and I think I’d remember such a handsome young man. Oh God, do you think he’s the man who . . . well, who . . .”

  Danielle shook her head. “No, I know he didn’t hurt me, but he does know what happened. Can you recall anything strange? Unusual? Anything at all. Even if you think it doesn’t relate.”

  “Well . . .” She tapped her pencil to her temple. “The punctures on your neck were odd. I mean the doc didn’t seem to think so, said probably the marks were from a ring your assaulter wore. You did have bruising around your wrists and ankles and your neck especially. I found the marks . . . odd, and the fact that you had lost such a large amount of blood with no significant cuts to say where you’d lost it from.”

  Danielle rubbed her wrists, thinking of the lacerations that the doc believed where from manacles.

  “My dear, I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”

  Danielle gave a half-smile. “Well, I appreciate your time.” She passed the nurse a card from her gallery. “If you think of anything, can you call me?”

  “Of course. Keep your chin up, Danielle. And give my regards to your friend Violet for me. What a doll. So concerned and caring. A friend like her is hard to find.”

  Danielle was a blank slate. Violet? She didn’t have any friends by the name of Violet. Had the nurse confused her with someone else? “Violet?”

  “Why, yes, I believe that was her name. Yes, she said Violet when she brought you back. I recall the morning quiet clearly. I was just getting off my shift when she came into the emergency calling for help. She had you in her car. I say, child, don’t you remember her? She said she was a friend of yours, and you were conscious. You were talking to her. It was like you knew her.”

  “No, I don’t know anyone named Violet,” Danielle said. “And what do you mean back?” God, how could she remember being in the hospital, but anything else she came up blank?

  “Well, you left in the
middle of the night. I’m uncertain how you managed to slip past those on duty, but one minute you were lying in bed and the next—gone. It was only an hour or so before Violet brought you back. Maybe it was the morphine we had you on, but . . . I thought you’d remembered that.” She crinkled her long, thin brows together. “When you came back, you had a cut on your neck that wasn’t there before. Violet couldn’t say how you came by it, only that you’d called her and she came and got you. She was so concerned, fussing over you like a mother hen. She had you wrapped up in her coat. You were shivering like a leaf.” She hesitated, taking Danielle’s hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “Are you seeing anyone, child? I mean, maybe if you had someone to talk to . . . I could suggest . . .”

  “What did she look like? Did she give a last name, her phone number, anything?”

  “No, just Violet. She had red hair and a petite frame. Pale face wearing all that black. Such a beautiful girl to be wearing all black.”

  She was at a dead end. A name. The police had nothing after questioning her, considering she recalled nothing and they were at a loss. All they had was her abductor’s DNA taken from beneath her fingernails. But without him in their system, they had zilch.

  Danielle turned to go when Susan said, “Violet did mention another name in passing. Annie or Ansley. No, it was more unusual. I think it was . . .”

  “Anstice,” Danielle offered, her breath lodged in her throat. She didn’t wait for a reply as she ran from the hospital.

  She went home, grabbed her car and headed straight to Anstice’s place. She handled her Mini like the car had been built to be driven, and the engine purred with glee at being able to strut its stuff. She made it in record time without another speeding ticket to add to her collection.

  “Who’s Violet?” Danielle said as soon as Anstice opened the door. She pushed past her and took a quick scan of the foyer, noticing they were alone. Dealing with Keir’s overbearing protectiveness of Anstice was not what she needed to have this conversation.