Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

  Touching him was dangerous, but she couldn’t seem to resist no matter how hard she tried, and every touch brought something new. She couldn’t get to him, couldn’t uncover him or strip him in layers like she did others, but something connected them so strongly, melded them so tightly together, that there was no going back, and she knew it. Every time he was close to her, he melted away that shell of a hardened human being that wasn’t real, and for a moment, she felt alive and genuine—and vulnerable.

  Right now he sat in her library, disturbing her beyond all measure. She hadn’t thought it possible. She thought she was stone cold when it came to the opposite sex, but she lit up around him. On fire. Hot as hades. She apparently had red hair for a reason, and it wasn’t her temper. Okay, maybe it was that, too. She hadn’t made up her mind how she felt about Mr. Aleksei Solokov. That was the name on his library card. She didn’t know if her body coming to life was a good thing or a bad thing. If fantasies were wonderful or a curse. There was a lot to think about, but then she had a lot of time to think.

  “Miss Foley?”

  She jerked her head up, her breath exploding out of her lungs. No one had managed to sneak up on her in years, and yet just perving on Aleksei Solokov, she failed the first lesson in survival. She turned slowly, already knowing who was behind her, identifying him by his voice.

  “Hi, Tom.” He was sixteen and trying desperately to learn to read at his level. His English teacher was no help, giving him assignments far beyond his comprehension. It made Scarlet angry that the man couldn’t take the time to help the boy. “I was hoping you’d come in today. I have plenty of time to help you.” She flashed him a reassuring smile.

  The boy’s face flooded with relief. “Thanks, Miss Foley.”

  She waved him toward the table where they often worked together, and where she was most comfortable. She could see out the windows, but no one could see her or the boy she tutored. She was always careful just in case, so no one could ever harm any of the teens just because of her. She put aside the rest of the evening’s work and settled down to help Tom do his homework. She would have plenty of time to finish her own work before the close of her shift.

  * * *

  * * *

  The librarian moved, drawing Absinthe’s attention. It was growing late, and she walked the boy she’d been helping with his English paper to the door, reassuring him he was getting better with every paper and she was proud of him. She moved like someone who could handle herself, always balanced, even when she was carrying stacks of books. He’d noticed that almost immediately about her. When one was as fucked up as he was, you always assessed the men and women around you to see who the fighters were. Under that sexy prim-and-proper librarian facade, she could handle herself.

  She wore her hair up in an intricate, twisted bun, but twice after work he’d seen her let it down. It was bright red, shiny red. There was no other word for the color. Just red, and that color hadn’t come out of a box. It was a waterfall of true, thick, silky red. Her hair, once let loose, refused to be tamed. It snaked down her back to her waist, drawing attention to just how small her waist and rib cage were and how curved her hips were. She had an ass, and tits that were high and firm, and very generous. Her curves were deceptive considering she was very fit.

  Absinthe’s entire body reacted to her in an entirely unprecedented way. He didn’t have normal erections. Those had been beaten or raped out of him when he was a child. To achieve one, he had to command his body to cooperate, and why the hell bother? To sit in the library—that quiet and peaceful place—and feel his body respond to a beautiful woman was a form of magic. He enjoyed the feeling, knowing he would never take it for granted—and it happened every damn time he looked at her.

  He had experimented after he’d had a reaction to her, going to various bars and even the market in the hope that his body would respond to someone else after it had come to life, but it seemed it was only the little librarian with her bright red hair that did it for him. That was just fine with him. He liked her. He liked the way she was so gentle and calm—so patient with the kids that came in, asking her homework questions. If she noticed there was a much higher percentage of boys than girls, she didn’t make a big deal out of it. She spoke in soft, melodic tones, but hushed, in keeping with the library rules.

  After seeing the boy out, she turned and looked straight at him. He could never quite interpret the expression on her face. He was always careful not to touch her for too long. He didn’t want to read her thoughts. He was enjoying their dance around each other too much for that. She was fascinated but nervous—anxious, even, which he found interesting as well. She was always so calm with everyone else. She couldn’t know he was in a club, so it wasn’t that.

  She came toward him, flowing across the room. She was breathtaking. Beautiful. All woman wrapped up in that sweet package. Her name was Scarlet, and he loved that name. It said Scarlet Foley on her nameplate, and she’d finally introduced herself formally to him three and a half weeks earlier. It had taken quite some time before she actually spoke to him. She’d smile, but she didn’t come near him at first. Even now, she was extremely reserved with him.

  “You’ve been here for hours. Are you doing research again? I might be able to help you,” she offered. “Although we’re closing soon.”

  He glanced around. The library was empty. It was definitely near closing time. He decided to take a chance. “I stayed late on the off chance you’d have time to have dinner with me. Nothing fancy, just across the street there.” He indicated the more upscale restaurant facing the front of the library.

  He liked the location of the library. It was on a block that was also quieter than most of the town’s streets. Foliage was abundant; in fact, the front and sides of the library were covered in ivy so that it appeared to drip down the brick walls and fall like a waterfall over the second story to the first. Everything about the place proclaimed it was cool and inviting.

  Scarlet stood very still, her large green gaze, behind her glasses, moving over his face slowly. For a moment she looked scared. Not scared exactly. That wasn’t the right word. Leery, maybe. Assessing the risk? He wasn’t certain, but she wasn’t jumping at his invitation. She glanced over her shoulder toward the restaurant. Absinthe stayed silent, letting her make up her mind. He needed her to feel safe with him, and he wanted her to want to spend time with him, the way he wanted to spend it with her—just the two of them. Walking across the street with her vehicle close was a good start.

  “I think that sounds fun,” she said finally. Almost reluctantly.

  He could hear lies. She wasn’t lying, but there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. For the millionth time, he glanced at her hand to see if she was wearing a wedding ring. She wasn’t. There was no faint tan line that might indicate she’d worn one. She had very pale skin. A dusting of freckles was across her nose, spreading out just a bit, very faint, but he had the unexpected urge to kiss each one.

  “I’ll wait here for you while you close up, and we can walk over together,” he said. He made it a statement. She more than likely would want him to go out the door first. She didn’t walk outside with anyone, even if one of the teens stayed late. Not one time in the six weeks he’d been coming. She always stood at the door for a long period of time, scanning the entire block, the buildings and even the rooftops.

  Her small white teeth caught at her lower lip for a moment, and his heart nearly stopped. Why he found that sexy, he had no idea, but he did. His body stirred, and heat rushed through his veins like a drug. Just being close to her was addicting. Her eyes did that reluctant drop, as if she couldn’t help herself. He fucking loved that. For just one moment her gaze rested on the bulge at the front of his jeans, and he hardened even more. She turned red and averted her eyes. He resisted grinning.

  “I have a few things to do. You could grab us a table and I’ll meet you there.”

&
nbsp; Yeah. She didn’t want to be seen with anyone. That was a red flag. He held up his cell phone. “I’ll text them to hold us a table. I scoped it out earlier and they have a few tables for two. They’re kind of in the shadows, but if you’d rather sit on the main floor . . .”

  “No, I think a table for two sounds excellent.”

  She jumped at that. A little too fast. She didn’t want to be seen with him. Fuck.

  “I’ll make us a reservation and you finish up.”

  She hesitated again, but then turned away with a little nod. He watched her go back to her desk. He’d already made the reservation. If she’d said no, he simply would have canceled it. He kept an eye on her while he made a show of writing down a few facts from the book he had pulled out to reference. Truthfully, he didn’t need to write anything down. He could read and absorb over twenty thousand words per minute. He retained everything he saw or read. He could compel truth and make suggestions that others would follow. He had highly developed gifts. Some were a curse, no matter what others thought. Most were. Or maybe it was how he’d had to use them.

  He was uneasy without his fellow Torpedo Ink members close by, and even more so now that he could see just how nervous she was. They had survived their childhood and then later, as teens and adults, by sticking together. The rule had always been that one or two stuck close to a third. Sometimes they were unseen, up on a rooftop with a rifle, and sometimes they were in the shadows, but there was always someone close to protect another.

  Absinthe knew if the pull toward the librarian hadn’t been so strong, he never would have continued to come without at least one of the others. He wanted them close. Eventually he would have to ask them to ride with him, but there would be so many questions, and he wanted this time with her to be real. He wanted to unravel the mystery of Scarlet Foley alone. If he enlisted the aid of his club, Code would be involved, and her life would instantly be an open book. No one escaped Code’s ability to uncover their past with his genius computer skills. There was something to be said for the old-fashioned way of conversation and courtship.

  He drummed his fingers on the table, reminiscent of Czar, their Torpedo Ink president. When Czar was thinking, he often kept time with his fingers. Absinthe found himself with the same habit, and he’d never bothered to try to break it. Twice, there in the library, his little redhead had sent him a small frown. Now he often drummed his fingers on the table just to see that frown because he found it provocative. Sensual. Hell. Everything she did was sensual.

  He waited for her to turn the lights off before he got up and made his way down the aisle between the tall stacks to her. She knocked her purse off the desk and then when she picked it up, she dropped it again. Absinthe recovered it and handed it to her. That was absolutely, entirely unlike her, especially the fact that she hadn’t caught it before it hit the floor. He’d seen her catch dozens of books and other objects over the last six weeks even when others had dropped them.

  Scarlet took the purse with a rueful expression. “I’m a little nervous,” she confessed, not looking at him. “I don’t go out very often.”

  He’d already guessed that. He also was very sure she was afraid of someone. “Does your family live here?”

  He held the door open for her. He wasn’t used to making conversation with an ordinary citizen, and certainly not one who made his cock feel so diamond-hard he was afraid he might not be able to walk. Wasn’t that a perfectly ordinary question? One any man might ask a woman on a first date? Date. Hell. He didn’t date. He’d never been on a date in his life.

  She had dropped back, not walking with him, and he just stood there, waiting for her to exit. Scarlet’s gaze slid up and down the street before she reluctantly stepped outside and allowed him to close the door behind her, take the keys from her hand and lock it, and then hand them back to her.

  “No, but my grandmother did. I used to visit her here. I had a lot of good memories, so I came back and was able to get the job at the library. What about you?”

  He shook his head. “No, but now I live in Caspar, which isn’t all that far from here.” It was by some people’s standards, but he found it peaceful riding his motorcycle, and the roads were perfect for cruising between the coast and inland, so distances didn’t matter to him.

  Her face lit up. “I’ve been to Caspar. It’s on the coast, right? I love it there. The sea is always changing. One day it will be quiet and calm, and the next, it’s wild and crazy. You’re lucky to live there, although I imagine there aren’t very many jobs available.”

  Was there a wistful note in her voice? He hoped so. He needed the stars to align and let him have this miracle of a gift. He needed her in his life. He just had to find a way to make it happen and have it be real. He was most afraid of that—needing her too much and creating a false relationship.

  He opened the door to the restaurant for her, scanning the room quickly for potential trouble before allowing her to do the same thing while he turned back toward the street and gave that another quick once-over. Certain no one was paying attention to either of them, he closed the door and followed his librarian’s amazing ass. She was in a black skirt with small white polka-dots scattered over it. The material clung to her curves. He appreciated that particular skirt very much.

  Absinthe held the back of her chair for her, ignoring the waiter, who looked as if he might conk him on the head and abscond with the girl. She looked regal as she took the seat, smiling up at Absinthe, nearly taking his breath away. Whatever it was, she had affected him like some kind of aphrodisiac. Her small teeth. That mouth, with her full, pouty lips that were made for a man’s dirtiest fantasies. He hadn’t had them until she’d come along. Not like this. Mostly he’d had nightmares. The erotic, very graphic dreams were a welcome change.

  “Are you a wine drinker?” Absinthe didn’t know the first thing about wine. He could make her any kind of drink she wanted, or talk beer, but wine eluded him. If she loved wine, he was going to be taking a crash course. It wouldn’t take him long to catch up.

  She shook her head. “I actually don’t drink very much. Once in a while, if it’s really hot out, I’ll have an ice-cold beer. But other than that, it’s a very occasional drink, and usually I go for something girly like a cosmopolitan.”

  “I don’t drink wine,” Absinthe admitted. “Like you, I’m not a big drinker, but mostly that stems from wanting to be alert all the time.”

  “You don’t put your feet up, relax and have tons to drink?” There was the merest hint of amusement in her voice. Mostly she was serious.

  He loved the look on her face when she gave him her full attention. He focused completely on her once he was certain the few couples already eating or waiting to be served weren’t in the least interested in them.

  “No, that wouldn’t work for me. I do like to put my feet up though,” he admitted. “I’m going to be very up front with you.” It was confession time. If he didn’t say it straight up, she’d find out anyway. “I’m not good at this. I never know what to say, and I come off stilted and awkward, but I don’t want to be that way with you.”

  Her green gaze was hard to stay still under. She seemed to see right through his skull into his mind, where chaos reigned—thanks to her.

  “I’m not so great at this, either,” she declared. “I guess we’re going to have to learn. I’m very competitive, and I have a fast learning curve. Very fast. Wait.” She frowned at him. “You weren’t reading a self-help book on dating, were you?”

  “Do they have those in the library?”

  Her lashes swept down and then back up. A small smile teased the curve of her mouth, causing his heart to accelerate. He found himself staring. Shit. He was going to lose before he got started because he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  She laughed. “I’m not telling you. I’ll read them and turn into a scintillating conversationalist in minutes, leaving you in the du
st.”

  He instantly learned three things. There were multiple self-help books on dating, she read extremely fast and she really was competitive. He flashed a small grin, looking at her with hawklike eyes, giving her the predator look just for a moment. Just to see the shiver that crept down her spine.

  “I’ll have to be there first thing in the morning, before your shift.”

  “You know my shifts?” The smile faded, and she sounded uneasy.

  He shrugged. “How was I going to ask you out? I went multiple times without seeing you, so clearly you had a shift and only came into the library during those times. I kept having to trade work with friends and drive here from the coast, so I found out when you worked. I came as often as I could and just waited until we’d established that a very tentative woman can charm the socks right off a shy man any day of the week.”

  “Is that what we established?”

  Her laughter got him every time. He found himself actually relaxing. The waiter hovered, and both guiltily studied the menu. She ordered a pasta dish and he ordered a steak. Fresh-baked bread was put on the table and he suddenly realized he was very hungry.

  “I watched you right back,” she admitted as she buttered a small piece of bread. “You’re quite fascinating.”

  “I am?”

  “The way you read. Even the books you choose. They’re reference books on just about every subject. Three were language books. All on Hindi. Are you planning on going to India?”

  He shook his head. “I like languages. I study the various ones to see how alike they are, and how different. There are at least seven hundred twenty dialects spoken in India, but most speak one or more of the official twenty-two languages.”