Water Bound Page 8

  She could still feel his muscles within his body, hard and defined--he'd felt like velvet over steel. Somehow the pads of her fingers had absorbed him into her, so that he lived and breathed in her. She looked wildly around her kitchen, and for the first time since she'd moved in, her home was no longer her refuge. She pressed her thumb hard into her palm and abruptly ran out onto the porch where she could breathe. She actually put her head between her knees, feeling a little faint.

  "Rikki?"

  She turned her head without lifting it, still bent over, and their eyes locked together. At once she felt as if she was falling into him--becoming part of him. He was wrapped in a blanket and stood swaying in the doorway. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his skin looked gray.

  He cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

  He looked like hell, but he was asking her if she was all right. She straightened slowly, never breaking eye contact. She doubted she could have even had she tried. She was a prisoner now, connected to him, a part of him, and she didn't have a clue what to do about it.

  "I don't know. You?"

  He smiled unexpectedly, a brief flash of white teeth, although his blue eyes didn't change expression at all. "My head hurts." His eyes warmed then. "And so does my body. Whatever you were doing, it felt like you were touching me--intimately."

  She pressed her thumb harder into the center of her palm. "You need to go back inside before you fall down."

  "Come with me."

  She sighed. "It's difficult."

  "Because you don't let anyone in your home."

  His blanket slipped and she caught a glimpse of the long sturdy column of his thigh before he righted it. He'd said home, not house. His description appealed to her.

  "Come on." She stepped close to him and slipped her arm around his back, allowing him to lean on her. "Get back in bed. I'll give you some aspirin. Can you eat anything?"

  "No. I still feel sick. I think I took a pretty ugly hit on the head." He swung the door closed behind them and locked it.

  "Good thing you're hardheaded." She glanced at the door and then up at him. "Are you worried about visitors? It's not like I get many."

  "Your family."

  She nodded. "Yes, my sisters come by, but as a rule, they don't come into the house. Blythe gets coffee sometimes in the morning and sits out on the porch with me. They just open the door and call to me."

  "I wouldn't want to accidently shoot anyone."

  She scowled at him as she lowered him to the bed. "Keep up the threats and I'll throw your weapons in the well."

  "Did you think that was a threat?" His voice was mild. "I was giving you a warning. I don't have a clue what the hell happened to me. Only a sense of danger and one very large instinct for self-preservation. I really wouldn't want to hurt anyone you cared about."

  She could see sincerity in his eyes, but she didn't altogether trust his motives. More likely he was issuing a warning, so she would keep everyone away from him and he could hide without worrying. In her house. Her scowl deepened as she helped to prop him into a sitting position. She tucked blankets around him with the same meticulous attention to detail she did everything else.

  She waited until he took the aspirin and drank the water before she spoke again. "I put your extra ammo under the bed. You've got enough to start a small war."

  Lev studied her face. She had a stubborn little chin. He decided to push her a little more. She hadn't thrown him out yet. "Don't let them know I'm here."

  "My sisters?" She gave him that little frown he had already begun looking for. "I don't lie to my sisters."

  "I'm not asking you to lie. Are they going to ask if you have a man in your house?"

  She toed at an imaginary speck on the hardwood floor. "No."

  "Then we don't have a problem, do we? I should be out of here soon."

  "You can't even walk by yourself." She held up her hand to stop him from talking. "I'll think about it." She continued to look at him through the thick veil of her lashes. "Are you going to explain?"

  "Explain what? I can't remember my own name."

  "Why I heard your voice in my head. And don't tell me it didn't happen. I may be strange, but I don't hear voices."

  Her eyes went as black and shiny as obsidian. He was fascinated by that. The storm warnings.

  "It was your voice. You said, 'What the hell are you doing?' You didn't say it out loud. It was in my head."

  He couldn't look away from her gaze. He wanted to wake up to those eyes every morning. See them the last thing before he slept. Take them with him into his dreams. No one should have eyes like that. "I might be telepathic." He shrugged. "I don't have an explanation."

  She should have accused him of being crazy but she didn't. "I know some people have extraordinary gifts. There's a family in the village . . ."

  She broke off as if she were giving him classified information. Something stirred in his memory, but he couldn't pin it down. The glimpse eluded him before he could catch and hold it to him. Frustrated, he studied her face. He liked looking at her. She had angles.

  "I don't know about extraordinary gifts--I was trying to come up with a plausible explanation. Are you telepathic?"

  "No! Absolutely not." She rubbed her palm as if it were hurting her.

  He held out his hand. "Let me see."

  She cradled her hand protectively against her. "I don't think so." She pushed back her hair. "Look, it's really late. Why don't you go back to sleep. You shouldn't be sitting up anyway. We can sort all this out later."

  He kept his hand out. "Let me look."

  "Has anyone ever told you that you're pushy?"

  He felt amusement welling up again. His head hurt like a son of a bitch, but he was ready to smile. "I can't remember much, so I'm going to say no."

  "Given your personality, that's most likely a lie," she pointed out and stepped closer to the bed, her reluctance showing in the slow offer of her hand.

  His fingers closed around her wrist and he drew her toward him with a steady, firm pressure. Each time the pads of his fingers touched her skin, he felt absorbed--connected to her--as if he was sinking deeper into her. He was almost desperate to join their bodies together. The feeling she gave him from just touching, skin to skin, was exquisite. She delighted him. Intrigued him. Made his body ache in wonderful ways. It was a new experience and one, at first, he didn't want, but now that he was beginning to reason again, he could enjoy every moment, every breathtaking sensation.

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the center of her palm, tracing the two joined circles, although he couldn't see them. His brain mapped positions and recorded them for him. Every instinct, every memory of her was exact. He knew precisely where those circles had sunk beneath the skin of her palm. He pushed healing warmth at her. He'd learned to heal his own body from minor injuries when he was a child, using the energy around him. He surrounded her hand with the energy he drew on and pushed it into her palm.

  "Does that feel better?"

  There was silence. He looked up and met her gaze. She wasn't looking at her palm; instead, her eyes were glued to his face. He felt the now-familiar jolt in the vicinity of his heart when he locked gazes with her.

  "You can do things other people can't," she whispered, sounding slightly awed. "My hand was aching and it doesn't now."

  "I'm glad. After all you've done for me, I haven't shown much in the way of appreciation." He retained possession of her hand, stroking his thumb back and forth, blatantly trying to mesmerize her. He didn't want her leaving him, not with his heart pounding and his head so damned confused. Sometimes, like now, he thought she belonged to him.

  "Lexi can heal things, but with the things she grows. She can mix together various plants and make you well in hours. She's amazing. And she can grow anything at all. She does almost all the gardening, although we all help. But she can't just touch someone."

  He sent her a small smile, tugging a bit until she sank down onto the bed beside him.
She automatically smoothed out the blanket as she sank lower, but she didn't remove her other hand from his as he brought it up for his inspection. "I don't think it's fair to say I healed anything. You didn't have a cut." He brought her hand up to his throbbing head, brushing her fingers across the Steri-Strips.

  Rikki tugged until he reluctantly released her. "Get some sleep. It's very late, and I get up early. I won't go out on the boat tomorrow, but I'll see if I can pick up any news about what may have happened to you in the village."

  As she stood and half turned from him, he felt the first hint of unease that immediately put him on alert. He struck hard and fast, catching her wrist and dragging her down beside him. "Someone's coming up your road."

  "We'd see the headlights."

  "They just turned onto it, but they're definitely on the road leading to your house, not one of the others." Even in his weakened state, he'd caught glimpses of the layout of the farm. He'd already mapped out several escape routes in his head. She wiggled, trying to get free, but she obviously was more worried about injuring him further. "Stop it, and listen," he hissed. "I'll cover you from the living room. If they come up to the house, open the door and leave it open, but step to one side. I have to be able to see you, so stay within sight of the left side of the room."

  "It's my sister. She knew I went out for a dive, and she's just checking that I'm home safe. She'll come to the kitchen door, not the front door. And you need to mellow out. Sheesh, you'd think you want to shoot someone."

  "You think I can't tell that you're worried someone's hunting you? You have thread on the windows, and you checked all of them to make certain they weren't touched. You circled the house looking for footprints and any disturbances in your plants. Even the layout of the plants is more to catch an intruder than for looks."

  Headlights suddenly spilled light across the wall in the living room, proving him right.

  "Every door is locked, not with standard locks but security locks, and when I bolted the door, you didn't protest. You were more worried about what's out there than what's inside this house with you. Don't argue with me. Help me into the kitchen and I'll cover you from there, just to be on the safe side."

  She regarded him with suspicion, and he couldn't blame her. He still hadn't made up his mind what to do if she told anyone about his presence. He was confused and knew that made him doubly dangerous, a wild animal trapped and fighting for survival. The bits and pieces coming into his brain weren't good. Not any of them. The only thing good was this woman staring back at him with enormous witch eyes, dark with distrust.

  Again, he noted, there was no fear. None. He wondered what it would be like to see trust in her eyes. She gave a small nod.

  "It's Blythe," she assured, "but if you feel safer 'covering' me, then I'm fine with that."

  She didn't add her usual warning, but her mouth was set in a stubborn line. He had the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss her. His head nearly exploded before he realized he had actually made a move toward her. She hadn't moved and their lips were inches apart. They stared at each other. She made a little moue with her lips and slipped off the bed.

  Lev released her immediately and, trying for a modicum of modesty, wrapped the blanket closer around him, even as he grabbed his favorite gun.

  Rikki was silent as she wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to stand. She didn't know why she was indulging him. She should have just picked up the gun and hit him over the head with the silly thing. It was just a little disturbing that he had caught her security measures, as injured as he was. Not once had any of her family noticed--and she liked it that way.

  She set him in a chair and went out onto the porch off the kitchen, leaving the door open as instructed. She watched Blythe exit the car.

  "Did you have a good time?" She called out loud enough that Lev couldn't fail to realize it was, in fact, her sister and he could just put away his gun.

  "I was worried about you. I tried to call you on your cell several times. And I left four messages on your machine." Blythe closed her door and came up the stairs. She reached for Rikki and hugged her.

  Rikki tried to hug her back. She didn't mind Blythe touching her, but she always felt awkward, unsure what to do in return, so she usually stood and waited for it to be over, feeling foolish. She recognized Blythe was distressed.

  "I'm sorry. I never think to check my messages and I don't have a clue where that cell phone is." She looked around as if she might find it in the flower bed.

  Blythe came all the way onto the porch and dropped into her favorite chair. "There was a huge wave, Rikki, it came out of nowhere. The Drakes stopped it, but I was afraid you were caught out at sea when it came."

  "I was. It knocked me off my boat," Rikki admitted. She kept her body between Blythe and the door at all times, standing upright and making certain Lev didn't have a shot if he felt so inclined. She wasn't about to place Blythe in danger.

  Blythe paled, her soft brown eyes going wide as she searched Rikki for damage. Rikki couldn't stop her hand from drifting up to her neck to cover the smudges there. "I was just about to go down for another load when it struck, so I had my gear on. No big deal."

  "Of course it was a big deal. Tell me what happened."

  Rikki shrugged. "I was thrown from the boat and went down about thirty feet. I just shoved my regulator in my mouth and I was fine."

  Blythe shook her head. "Honey, you can't keep diving alone. You need a tender."

  "If I'd had a tender in the boat, they wouldn't have had on a suit or a tank, and they would have been in the water right along with me. Instead of my own survival, I would have had to think of someone else. I don't have to worry about anyone else when I'm out there. If something happens, I depend on myself. Tell me about the wedding," she added to change the subject.

  Blythe smiled immediately. "It was so beautiful. All of them ended up getting married. Jonas and Hannah had to stand up for all of them. Elle and Jackson were taking off for their honeymoon. I think they're traveling through Europe. I think everyone left for a honeymoon with the exception of Jonas and Hannah because they'd already had theirs."

  Rikki frowned a little at the mention of Jonas and Hannah. Jonas Harrington was the local sheriff and he always made her uneasy. She'd caught him eyeing her a few times, and she had the feeling he'd delved into her past and was watching her in case there was a local fire. Maybe she was just paranoid, but she stayed as far from him and his deputies as possible.

  "Any other news?" she prompted.

  "I think Joley might be pregnant," Blythe said, "but that's just a guess."

  That wasn't exactly the news Rikki was looking for. "Did you all have fun?"

  Blythe nodded. "Everyone asked where you were. Lexi danced up a storm. That girl is amazing on the dance floor. I wish I could learn her moves." She laughed softly, her eyes bright with pride. "She and Lissa were very popular tonight. Everyone wanted to dance with them."

  Rikki smiled. Lissa and Lexi tended to be the center of attention wherever they were. No one could help but look at them. She was as proud of them as Blythe was.

  "You look tired, Rikki," Blythe said. "You should be in bed."

  Rikki shrugged. "I always worry until everyone is safe at home." It was a grudging concession to admit it, but then with Blythe she was often more forthcoming than with anyone else. There was something motherly about Blythe--and Rikki had forgotten what that was like. Blythe could wrench emotion out of her when no one else could.

  Blythe gave her a smile that started a faint glow inside of Rikki. "I know you do. The others carpooled. They're already in their homes and are safe. Get some sleep."

  Rikki had no idea how she was going to do that, but she managed a nonchalant shrug and waved as Blythe headed back to her car. Rikki waited until the car was safely away before going back inside. The lights were out, but when she glanced at the chair where she'd placed Lev, she could see it was empty. Startled, she looked around the room, her heart poun
ding.

  He was lying facedown on the floor, at an angle where he would have been able to get past her with a shot at Blythe while she was sitting in her chair. Gritting her teeth together she slammed the door closed and locked it before stalking across the room to toe him in the ribs.

  "You are really annoying. I mean really."

  "I told you exactly what to do and you didn't listen," he snapped back, his tone impatient. "I hurt like hell thanks to your inability to pay attention."

  Her breath hissed out as anger mixed with adrenaline poured through her. "I paid attention, you cretin. I don't take orders from you or anyone else. It didn't occur to me that you'd be so determined to shoot someone that you'd take the chance of hurting yourself further. I swear, if you do one more thing to piss me off tonight, I'm going to put your sorry ass back in my truck, drive you to the cliffs and toss you over. Now get up."

  He stared up at her for a long time. Her eyes were hot, his ice-cold. They looked at one another for an eternity, Rikki trying to sustain her anger, which was usually easy enough to do. She was either happy or sad or angry--there was never an in between for her. Right now she was confused. He was just such a strong man, tough as nails. Obviously hurting, sprawled out on the blanket, naked, with his gun in his hand. He hadn't turned the weapon toward her, even though she was threatening him. And he'd thrown the blanket on the floor instead of wrapping himself in it to stay warm.

  Her heart jumped. Even in his weakened state, he'd seen her. He'd seen her need to have everything in her house a certain way. Lying naked on the floor was not okay. Well . . . maybe she could make an exception in his case. She studied his body. Perfectly symmetrical. Every muscle was defined. Chiseled. Like a sculpture. His skin flowed over the framework of his bones and muscles. Large bones, dense and strong. He looked a little like the pictures she'd seen of the early Olympians, warriors every one of them, fighters in a time when it was necessary. She watched the way his muscles moved beneath his skin as he shifted position, the art of the motion and the fluid grace fascinating her.