Gifted - The 5 Book Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Amira Rain

  The blue-eyed man had reached the doorway, and he now leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest, mirroring my pose. With a slant of sunlight illuminating his face, I could clearly see that his eyes held the faint hint of a twinkle. And when he spoke, his voice held a hint of something that sounded like faint amusement as well.

  "All right. So, that was my first mistake...not letting you collect your thoughts before I came in here. What was my second?"

  My knee-jerk reaction was to tell him that having such gorgeous, dark-lashed, sky-blue eyes had been his second mistake, but I immediately realized that accusation would make no sense at all. I realized that nothing that I'd been thinking and saying had been making much sense.

  Suddenly, I just wanted a shower. I just wanted warm water cascading over my skin, cleaning away the remnants of something I couldn't recall or identify. Maybe I wanted the warm water to somehow jump-start my thinking processes, too. For whatever reason, whether I just hadn't slept long enough or what, I was truly having a hard time simply grasping reality.

  In response to what the man had asked me about what his second mistake had been, I pulled the blanket off, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and got out, feeling my rising sense of embarrassment continuing to rise. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll tell you what your second mistake was later."

  Once I could clear my mind a bit and figure out if he'd even made one. Once I could figure out exactly why I felt so hostile toward the insanely attractive, blue-eyed man in whose bed I'd been sleeping.

  Again, he responded in a voice that held a trace of amusement. "All right. Take a shower and give my second mistake some thought. I'll be back with coffee and some food in twenty. I'll knock first."

  I'd made it across the room to the master bathroom by this point, and I paused with my hand on the knob. "You damn well better."

  With his eyes still holding a trace of a twinkle, the man pushed a shoulder off the door frame to stand upright. "I'll knock. And that's the closet door, by the way. You're about to head into the closet, not the bathroom."

  My warm face instantly burst into full flames, but for some reason, I didn't want to back-peddle an inch.

  "I know it's the closet. Obviously. And I know you said that there are some clothes in the bathroom for me, but...well...." With my face flaming hotter than I'd ever dreamed was possible, I swallowed. "I guess I just wanted to have a look at your clothes. Just to see if you have anything I might like to wear."

  Now clearly fighting a smile, the man lifted his eyebrows. "You like wearing men's work shirts? Because that's mostly what's in there."

  With my flaming face actually so hot that I could feel perspiration breaking out on my forehead, I forced myself to nod. "Yes. I find men's work shirts to be both durable and warm. So, if you don't mind me borrowing one...."

  The man now looked like he was having to work hard to suppress outright laughter. "Not at all. Help yourself."

  Completely unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, I flung open the closet door and began rifling through the hanging shirts. "Thank you." Just wanting to escape to the bathroom, where I now planned to take a cool shower instead of a warm one, I grabbed the third shirt I touched, which was a heavy, navy blue flannel one, pulled it off the hanger, and began marching over to a door maybe a half-dozen feet to my left, a door that I assumed was the bathroom door. "This shirt should do just fine."

  Relieved, I heard the bedroom door close just before I closed the bathroom door.

  After tossing the shirt on a wooden rack that held a stack of clean towels on its top shelf, I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and splashed my still-hot face with cool water, then and only then, suddenly recalling the events that had taken place earlier that day.

  They'd been floating somewhere just beneath the surface of my jumbled consciousness, for some reason not rising to the surface until I was alone. The fact that I'd been thoroughly distracted and somehow thrown off-balance by the blue-eyed man's good looks might have had something to do with that.

  Also, as he'd figured, I seemed to have a "Gifted hangover" for the ages. Being as experienced as I was by this point, I usually didn't get them anymore, but I also usually didn't fight until my supernatural powers were nearly totally depleted, like I'd done that morning, I now remembered.

  Now that I did remember all that had happened, I shut off the water and then slumped against a wall, mind reeling, not even bothering to dry my face. Horrified, I realized that Dylan might be dead. Dylan, the last resurrectionist on earth, the only one who could bring my family back.

  And I myself had been kidnapped, apparently, taken from the battlefield alive for some reason. I figured maybe the leader of the North Haven lions, the man I'd just been embarrassing myself in front of, planned to try to pump me for information about the Angels.

  My mind immediately went to how he might try to do that. Considering the surprising little glint of amusement and possibly even kindness I'd seen in his eyes, he just didn't seem like the kind of man who'd employ torture to find out what he wanted to know. Not to mention that from what I'd heard about the various shifter groups in the state and nation, none of them were said to use torture on enemies.

  They were supposed to be the "good guys." It was more Dylan's speed to use torture, not that I'd actually ever seen him torture a person, but I'd heard that he had once, torturing and killing an Angel who'd betrayed him in some way.

  Even though the North Haven lions were supposed to be a "good guy" group, I had to admit that I was now more than a little taken aback by the fact that their leader hadn't regarded me with hostility and aggression. After all, Dylan had told me that even the "good guys" hated anyone who fought alongside the Angels and would think nothing of killing them on the battlefield. Oddly, I seemed to be the only hostile person in the North Haven leader's home, not that I really had time to ponder that. I had bigger problems.

  All I knew was that I was going to have to escape and somehow find my way back to Dylan and the Angels. If he was still alive, that was. If any of them were still alive. Before I'd apparently spent the last of my power on the battlefield and promptly passed out, things had not been looking too good.

  Being that the leader of the North Haven lions was still very much alive and seemingly untroubled, I could only assume that Dylan and the rest of the Angels hadn't been able to summon last reserves of strength in order to finally gain the upper hand in the fight. I could only hope that Dylan had the sense to pull everyone back and retreat before the North Haven lions were able to slaughter them all.

  My first impulse was to immediately try to make a break for it, escaping out the master bathroom window and then head north, back to New Bad Axe, where I assumed Dylan would have headed if he and others had retreated. If I didn't find them there, if they'd already returned to the northern half of the state by way of taking the boats into Lake Huron again, I wasn't sure what I'd do. I figured I'd cross that bridge when I got there. Maybe I'd find that they'd left a boat for me.

  However, something told me I wouldn't get very far if I made an escape out the bathroom window. For one thing, I was pretty sure the blue-eyed man might be expecting me to do something like this, and therefore, I thought it possible that he might have guards stationed around the house or something.

  For another thing, even if he didn't have guards stationed around the house, I was certain that he had North Haven itself guarded, probably much more heavily than usual because of the attack. I figured that even if I was able to make it beyond the house, I probably wouldn't be able to make it beyond the village, or town, or whatever North Haven was. Dylan had referred to it as a village and town alternately, and I hadn't cared enough to ask him for clarity.

  Guessing that there was no way my supernatural powers were back up to full strength yet, even after my long sleep, I knew there was no way I could break through a ring of guards via zapping at present. I'd just have to wait, mulling over that idea while I tried to gather infor
mation. Specifically, information about Dylan's well-being. I hoped with all my heart that he was still alive. He just had to be. I could hardly even think about the alternative and what that would mean for me personally.

  Some desperate, wild, backed-into-a-corner part of me that I was struggling to subdue made me feel like just tearing out to the kitchen, demanding that the leader of the North Haven lions, whose name I still didn't even know, release me immediately. And if he didn't, I'd zap him for all I was worth.

  However, I knew that I had to subdue this inclination, no matter how difficult that might be. No matter how assertive my demand, I knew the North Haven leader wasn't just going to simply release me. Also, even zapping him for all I was worth might only mean hitting him with a still-recharging thin trickle of electricity at this point. Also, if Dylan was dead, there was no point in me doing anything. I knew I had to find out before taking any steps.

  Not knowing what else to do, I took a shower, washing with a clean washcloth from the rack and a bottle of rose-scented combination shampoo and body wash that had been sitting on top of it. Something told me that this item had been intended for me, and wasn't a part of blue-eyed man's daily grooming routine.

  When I emerged from the lukewarm, face-cooling spray, I grabbed a clean towel from the wooden rack and wrapped myself in it, noticing that a wicker hamper next to the rack was nearly empty, indicating that the blue-eyed man really had done laundry the night before.

  And although he'd likely laundered his bedding at that time, he'd slept in his bed after; I'd been able to tell. While we'd been talking, I'd noticed the faintest scent coming from the sage-green blanket that covered me, a clean, woodsy, masculine scent, with possible hints of citrus and leather.

  It was a heavenly scent, although at the time, I'd realized this somewhere in the back of my mind, not really consciously. I'd apparently been too focused on other things, like the angle of blue-eyed man's strong jaw.

  The towel rack also contained a stack of folded clothes on the bottom shelf, and soon I dressed in jeans and a plain white v-neck t-shirt. Both items appeared to be gently used, which I didn't mind, just glad to have fresh clothes of any kind. They also fit pretty well, as did socks, underwear, and a t-shirt bra, all of which had been in sealed packages, thankfully. I had a feeling that maybe the nurse who'd looked me over after the battle was a pretty good guesser of sizes.

  I hesitated before throwing on the heavy flannel work shirt over my t-shirt, eventually deciding that I really had to, unless I was in the mood for possible comment about why I'd selected it but then hadn't put it on. And I definitely wasn't in the mood for comment.

  Examining the shirt in the mirror once I'd put it on, I saw how large it was on me, and I wasn't a rail-thin girl. In fact, I had fairly ample breasts, but the shirt still looked like it was swallowing me whole. Clearly, it had been made for a man with bulging biceps and shoulders far wider than my own.

  This made it plenty cozy and warm, though, and it seemed durable enough, as I'd claimed to care about. Further studying the shirt and my reflection in the mirror, I realized that there was something about being wrapped in this shirt that I really liked, though I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was.

  After brushing my teeth with a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste that had been on top of the clothes, I towel-dried my hair, fighting mightily not to think about the possibility of Dylan being dead. I just couldn't let my mind go to that place. Even though at the same time, that was where it seemed drawn to go.

  Wanting to continue on with any sort of task that I could focus on instead of my rising negative thoughts, I'd just opened the cabinet under the sink to look for a hair dryer when I heard a tapping on the bedroom door. It had been a quiet tapping, not even loud enough to be considered a knock, and I definitely wouldn't have heard it had I not opened the bathroom door to let the steam clear from the mirror.

  Thinking that this was kind of a surprisingly feeble way for the fierce, exceptionally powerful leader of the North Haven lion pride to make his presence known, I abandoned my search for a hair dryer, went out to the bedroom door, and opened it. And who I saw standing just beyond the doorway wasn't at all who I'd expected to see.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Just beyond the doorway, a golden retriever puppy, a larger one, maybe "teenage" age, sat panting, bubblegum-pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. I made a soft gasp, heart instantly melting, and the puppy seemed to make a little gasp, too, with a pronounced momentary hitch in his breathing interrupting his panting. Apparently, he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

  "Oh my gosh...you're beautiful."

  With sudden, strange tears welling in my eyes, I knelt and extended a hand to the puppy, wanting to pet him. However, seemingly just as instantly smitten with me as I was with him, the puppy bounded right into my arms, then began licking my face as if I were a long-lost pal, instead of a complete stranger. Blinking back tears, I closed my arms around the puppy, experiencing something I hadn't felt in almost three years. Love.

  I'd always loved dogs, though I'd never been able to have one of my own. Dylan didn't like animals, hated them actually, so he'd never allowed anyone in our nomadic, land-grabbing group to own one. Before that, I'd never been able to have one because my mom had been horribly allergic to dogs, to the point that just being near one could trigger a severe asthma attack that no medications could prevent.

  While I'd been away at college for a few semesters, I couldn't have one because I'd lived in a dorm. Then, I'd returned to my family home, where I'd lived until that fateful, horrific day when it became a murder scene. So, during all my years not spent with Dylan, I'd had to content myself with a series of cats, which had been fine, because I loved them, too.

  But, in my heart of hearts, I'd always desperately wanted a dog as well.

  Now, even though it wasn't mine, I had one in my arms, a wiggly, warm, golden ball of pure love, and all my troubles and anxieties were completely gone. For a few moments, anyway. Then, the leader of the North Haven lions came walking up the hallway, heavy brown boots thudding on the dark hardwood flooring.

  "I see you've met Rocky. I thought you might. He has a habit of standing on his hind legs and tapping a paw on the door when it’s closed sometimes."

  I looked up from Rocky to his owner and saw that he was carrying a large tray laden with sandwiches and numerous glasses of various beverages on ice. Even the mere sight of food, even what little I could see from my view close to the ground, made my stomach growl. I realized I was starving, having not had anything to eat since a few bland crackers on a rocking boat the day before, but I didn't even care.

  As Rocky continued to wiggle in my arms, wagging his golden tail, my focus was elsewhere.

  Hoping that the un-shed tears in my eyes weren't obvious, I looked up at Rocky's owner. "You didn't tell me that you have a golden retriever puppy in the house."

  Looking a little taken aback, he frowned. "Should I have? I wasn't sure that telling you I have a puppy should be given top priority of all things said, especially considering our circumstances."

  Not giving a damn about our "circumstances," I rose to my feet with Rocky still in my arms and spoke to his owner in all seriousness. "When a person has a guest in the house, and that person also has a golden retriever puppy in the house, that person should mention that fact the very first thing. It should at least be in the top three of first things said."

  Rocky's incredibly handsome, blue-eyed owner looked dubious, which irritated me, and I made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh.

  "I can't believe I spent a whole half-hour in this house with this cuddly little angel nearby, and I didn't even know it. I consider the past half-hour a half-hour of my life completely wasted."

  I was only exaggerating slightly.

  Before Rocky's owner could even respond, a quiet meow sounded from somewhere behind me, and I turned just in time to see a big, exceedingly fluffy gray cat with green ey
es emerging from a room further down the hall, followed by an equally fluffy butterscotch-colored cat.

  Experiencing a bizarre combination of knee-weakening tenderness combined with irritation, I turned back to the animals' owner. "You have two beautiful cats, too? Any more animals in this house that you failed to describe to me fairly immediately, as you should have done?"

  The animals' owner looked as if he might have raked a hand through his hair, or rubbed the back of his neck, if he hadn't been holding a tray of food. "Well...I myself spend numerous hours a day as a lion, so you may want to put me in the count of animals as well...but I think that's all of us. A lion, two beautiful smaller cats, and a puppy.

  “Now...are you hungry for a very late lunch? Or a very early dinner, or whatever this meal might be? I brought everything on a tray in case you still felt tired and wanted to eat in bed, but we could eat in the kitchen instead, if you like. Doesn't matter to me."

  I kind of wanted to eat in bed so that I could snuggle up with all the animals and get to know them all a bit better while I ate. However, there was food enough for two on the tray, indicating that the animals' owner would be eating along with me, and I just wasn't sure how he'd feel about me bringing all the animals, and my lunch, into his bed with me. I wasn't sure how I'd feel, engaging in a possibly-tearful animal snuggle-fest while eating in bed like an invalid, while he sat in the chair bedside, just watching.