He smiled when she refused to look at him while posing the question. “Boxers.”
More tapping. “You’ll need some socks, too. I didn’t pay much attention to your shoes. Should I get you some new ones?”
“No, thank you.” His boots had been in surprisingly good condition when he had removed them before repositioning himself and Susan farther up the bed.
More taps. Several screen changes. Then she smiled. “All done. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I’ll reimburse you as soon as I can.” Her paying for his clothing did not sit well with him.
She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
But he did.
Grabbing a fork, she stirred some spaghetti in a large pot of boiling water as she gave him a once-over. A twinkle of mischief entered her light brown eyes. “You would make a great highlander.”
He smiled. “Shall we pretend the towel is a kilt then?”
“Works for me,” she replied with a grin. Picking up a tall glass of orange juice beside her, she held it out to him. “Here. Have some more.”
“Thank you.”
His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her. The juice was sweet and cold and gave him a chill as he downed it in a few swallows.
“Would you like some water, too?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy.
“Yes, please.” He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he had eaten or drunk anything.
When she moved away to fetch a pitcher from the refrigerator, his gaze fell to her laptop. An image of a beach at sunset decorated the screen.
His eyes went to the date in the top right corner and clung. Something about it didn’t seem right. It actually seemed downright alarming, but the reason eluded him.
“Listen,” she said as she returned and handed him the glass, “I’ve been thinking.”
She smelled really good. And it wasn’t just the herbal shampoo she used. It was her.
Raising the glass to his lips, he drank while she continued.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how you didn’t die down there under all that dirt. I looked it up online while you were in the shower. And a person can only live about three minutes without air, so there must have been a tube or something I failed to notice while I was digging you up that provided you with air and kept you from suffocating.”
He didn’t remember seeing a tube. But he hadn’t exactly been able to move around and check out his surroundings.
“I thought a person could only live three days without water. But apparently under certain circumstances, a person can live a week without water. Maybe even a little more in extreme cases. That’s it though. So you can’t have been down there for more than a week.”
Setting the empty glass on the counter, he again glanced at the date on her computer. A week didn’t seem right.
“I was gone all day last Sunday,” she told him. “And I took Jax with me. So I think someone must have buried you down there then.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. Whoever it was didn’t damage or steal anything. There were no broken windows. The doors weren’t marked up from forced entry. And nothing was missing. I had no idea anyone had even been in the house. So I wonder if maybe whoever did it had a key. I know I should have done it by now, but I haven’t gotten around to changing the locks since I moved in. I just didn’t see a need to hurry, because Jax is a great guard dog. If anyone were to approach the house, he would let me know.”
He doubled down on his efforts to shield his thoughts from her. “When did you buy this house?”
“About a month ago. That’s when I moved in anyway. The actual purchasing process took a month and a half.”
He knew from the scratching sounds he had picked up each time she had come to look at the house that Jax had smelled him down in the basement long before she had purchased the place.
He had been buried in that basement a hell of a lot longer than a week but couldn’t admit it without her knowing that his eyes weren’t the only strange thing about him.
“Anyway,” she said when he offered nothing more, “I went ahead and made an appointment for a locksmith to come out tomorrow morning and change all the locks, just in case. And a security company will come by tomorrow afternoon to install a security system for me.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and bit her lip. “I know you didn’t want me to call anyone and probably don’t want any strangers around, but…” She shrugged. “I’m scared. I don’t like to admit it, but I am. Knowing that whoever hurt you was in my house when I wasn’t here makes me want to pack a bag and head for the hills.”
Touching her arm, he gave it a gentle caress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring such chaos into your life.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t. The assholes who hurt you did.”
He chuckled, his beleaguered heart attempting to pound at her nearness when she didn’t move away. “I’d like to remain out of sight while the workmen are here, if you don’t mind.” He hadn’t heard her make any phone calls while he was in the shower. He had already discerned that his hearing was uniquely sharp. So she must have made the appointments online.
He frowned. What if she was right and he had only been buried for a week? He supposed he shouldn’t rule out that his mind might be playing tricks on him. His hair wasn’t overly long. His beard only seemed to be about a week old. And his nails were short. Surely that wouldn’t be the case if he had been buried down there a lot longer.
Unless those were all more oddities he bore.
But if men had just buried him in her basement a week ago, might they not have also installed spyware on her computer? He couldn’t guess what they hoped to gain from such, but then he didn’t understand why they had buried him in the basement either. So he thought it best not to rule out the possibility that one of them—having tracked her internet activity—would show up tomorrow in the guise of the expected workmen.
“Can you lock the basement door before they arrive?” he asked.
Tilting her head, she studied him. “Yes.”
“Then do it.”
“You think someone might impersonate the repairmen and—”
“I doubt it,” he interrupted, not wanting to frighten her more. “I’m just trying to cover all bases. I’ll stick close so I can watch over you.”
Smiling, she stepped back and pulled a colander out of a lower cabinet. “Shouldn’t I be the one watching over you?” She set the colander in the sink. “You were practically dead yesterday.”
He shrugged, irritated by the pain the careless motion inspired. “I’m very resilient.”
“I believe you.”
His heart continued to work too hard while he watched her, his eyes taking in the long, loose hair that was beginning to curl where the ends dried.
When dizziness struck, he reached out and braced a hand on the counter.
She frowned over her shoulder. “You’d better sit down before you fall down.”
Inwardly, he swore. He hated exhibiting such weakness in front of her. Maybe repairmen coming tomorrow wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He needed more blood and couldn’t partake of Susan’s again. He would find a way to take some of theirs and hope it would be enough to restore his strength. As well as his memory.
Seating himself at the table, he set his broken phone on it to one side.
“What’s that?” Susan asked as she set knives, forks, and spoons on the table in front of him, then added more on the other side of the table.
“I found it in my suit.”
“I’m guessing it doesn’t work?”
He shook his head. “The battery is dead. But even if it weren’t, the phone is too damaged to be of use.”
“Are you sure?” She held out her hand.
Stanislav placed the phone in it.
She examined the cracked front and back, then tilted it and picked at the center of the mangled base with one fingernail. “Oh. Yeah.
You can’t even plug it in. That sucks.”
“Yes, it does.” He returned the phone to the table.
After taking two plates down from an upper cabinet, she heaped both with generous helpings of spaghetti topped with a fragrant sauce.
His stomach cramped with sudden hunger despite the orange juice he’d downed.
“Do you think a tech guy could retrieve something off of it?” She set the plates on the table, then returned to the kitchen and filled his glass and a second one with cold water from the refrigerator.
“No. It’s trashed. I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”
“Of course not. It’s a piece of your past.” She handed him his glass, then set her own beside her plate.
“And it probably holds the phone numbers of friends and family I can’t remember,” he added as she seated herself across from him. “I apologize for not waiting until after you were seated to sit down myself.” The lapse in courtesy troubled him.
She stared at him. “Really? Guys actually do that?”
“Rise when a woman enters the room and wait to sit until after she has seated herself?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “I do.” The impulse had been a strong one, so it must be a norm for him.
Twirling her fork in her spaghetti, she muttered, “I’ve been dating the wrong guys.”
He smiled and picked up his own fork. The pasta was hot, the sauce spicy and delicious. “Mmm. This is wonderful.” He had to struggle not to shovel it into his mouth as fast as he could. His body badly needed sustenance.
Her face lit with pleasure. “I’m glad you like it. I thought it best to start with something light since you haven’t eaten in a while. There’s plenty more if you want it. I made extra just in case.”
“Thank you,” he said between bites. “You’re very kind.”
“So are you,” she said with a soft smile. Her gaze drifted to his left hand. “Do you think you’re married?”
His first thought was I hope not, because he was very drawn to Susan and would hate to discover he was being unfaithful, if only in his thoughts. But the more he considered the question, the more certain he became that he wasn’t. “No.”
Her brow furrowed. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because sleeping beside you today felt… foreign, like I haven’t slept beside a woman in a very long time.” Though her face didn’t reflect it, he could feel her disappointment at his assertion and wondered at the cause.
“Maybe you’re gay.”
Amusement kick-started a chuckle. “I’m not gay, Susan.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because even in my weakened state, I’m attracted to you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh.”
He heard her heartbeat pick up. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t. I guess it just surprised me a little.”
“I don’t know why. You’re beautiful. You’re kind. And you have an enchanting singing voice.”
A flush mounted her cheeks as she pointed her fork at his plate. “You need to eat more. Hunger has made you delusional.”
He laughed, then grunted when the pain spiked.
She offered him a look full of sympathy. “Still hurts when you laugh?”
He nodded and dedicated himself to consuming several more forkfuls. “Thank you for letting me sleep beside you,” he said softly. “It helped.”
Her blush returning, she lowered her eyes to her plate and twirled her fork in her pasta.
“Exhibiting weakness before you makes my stomach clench, but…” He toyed with his dinner. “I needed the closeness, the physical contact. Being alone, buried down there for however long it was…” Irritated by his inability to find the right words to describe the anxiety that rode him, he shook his head. “Having you near comforted me.”
Much to his surprise, she slid her free hand across the table, palm up.
His beleaguered heart tried to pound once more as he covered her small hand with his and curled his fingers around hers.
“Anytime you need me,” she said, “I’m here. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t think you’re weak. No one I know could have survived what you have. So that makes you the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” He winked. “Though now I think hunger is making you delusional.”
She laughed, and the two tucked into their meal once more.
Several minutes passed in silence. Peaceful, not awkward.
Susan released his hand long enough to carry her empty plate to the sink and refill his. “It’s weird,” she said as she reclaimed her seat. “I can’t read your thoughts anymore.”
He nodded, wishing he still held her hand. “Over the years I’ve learned to guard them so the telepaths won’t intrude.”
Her eyes widened. “You know other telepaths?”
When he realized what he’d said, his own eyes widened. Did he know other telepaths?
He thought for a moment. “I can bring no names or faces to mind, but for some reason am certain it’s true. I do. I know other telepaths.” Realization struck. “That’s it!”
“What is?” she asked, her expression still stunned.
“That must be why they tried to kill me. Whoever did it must have found out. The bastards must be hunting gifted ones.”
“What’s a gifted one?”
“We are,” he told her. “You and I. Men and women who were born with advanced DNA that grants us unique gifts ordinary humans lack.”
She stared at him. “I don’t have advanced DNA.”
“Yes, you do.” He corrected her with absolute certainty. “That’s why you’re telepathic.” And that was why he was so different.
Wasn’t it?
Susan didn’t know why she was telepathic, but advanced DNA? She found the notion preposterous. “Wait. You said you and I. Are you saying you’re telepathic, too?”
“No. I’m an empath,” he revealed, then consumed another mouthful of pasta. He was clearly starving after his long fast. Yet he had excellent table manners.
“I don’t know what that is,” she admitted.
“I can feel other people’s emotions.”
She wasn’t sure why that seemed weird when she could read other people’s thoughts, but it did. “Like anger, sadness, that sort of thing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have to touch them to do it?”
“No.” His look turned uneasy. “But in the interest of full disclosure…”
She groaned. “Nothing good ever follows those words.”
His mouth twisted into a slight grimace. “I’m afraid in this instance, you’re correct.”
“Just tell me whatever it is, because you look like you think I’m going to explode when I hear it.”
He set his fork down. “When I concentrate, I don’t just feel other people’s emotions. I can manipulate them too, should I desire to do so.”
A chill skittered through her. He looked guilty as hell. “Are you manipulating mine right now?”
“No. But I did last night.”
Dread settled like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean? How?”
“When you came down into the basement and found Jax doing his damnedest to dig me up, I dampened your dismay and fueled your curiosity until it overwhelmed you.”
Her heart began to pound. He had manipulated her?
Regret filled his haggard features. “I’m sorry, Susan. I would not have done it if there had been any other way I could’ve gotten out of the ground. But you were my only hope. I needed you to find me, and knew you wouldn’t if I didn’t quash every doubt that rose and feed your curiosity until nothing else mattered but digging me up.”
Rising, she paced away from the table. “No wonder,” she mumbled. “No wonder I kept digging. I couldn’t figure out why the hell I was so desperate to find whatever Jax
smelled or heard down there. It made no sense.”
Heavy silence fell.
He had manipulated her. The betrayal stung. A lot.
But damn it, she could understand why he’d done it. If he hadn’t, he might be dead right now. There was no telling how much longer he could have lasted down there.
She swung around to face him. “Was that it? Was that the only time?”
He shook his head, his lips clamping into a grim line. “You were terrified when you found me. I didn’t want you to be, so I banished your fear and replaced it with calm.”
Which explained why she had felt no qualms about lugging him up to her bedroom and sleeping beside him—a total stranger she had dug up in her basement.
Her hands began to shake as panic rose. Her breath shortened. “Are you manipulating me right now?”
He shook his head, the amber light in his eyes brightening. “If I were, you wouldn’t fear me.”
She didn’t know why guilt flared inside her at his words, but it did. Or was he making her feel guilty? She couldn’t tell, because he had manipulated her! “Are you making me feel guilty?”
“No. I don’t want you to feel guilty. You’ve no reason to. And I don’t want you to fear me either.”
“Show me,” she demanded. If she was going to be pissed, she might as well confirm he could actually do what he claimed he could. “Show me you can do it. Change my emotions.”
Her fear vanished with her next breath, leaving her calm again. The guilt evaporated as well while her heartbeat slowed. Her hands stopped quivering. “That’s amazing,” she breathed. “And terrifying.”
His lips turned up in a sad smile. “More terrifying than your being able to read my thoughts and use them against me if you wish it?”
Susan bit her lip. She had barged into his mind countless times without a care for his feelings. It seemed kind of crappy to cry foul over him screwing with her emotions.
She stifled a desire to grimace. That made it sound as if they were lovers and he had toyed with her affections in some way. All he had really done was reduce her fear. Susan had to admit she felt better without it crowding her mind.
And he hadn’t assaulted her. Or robbed her. Or done anything else heinous. He had been a perfect gentleman. He had even offered to leave. And he had removed her feelings of guilt. If he’d had nefarious intentions, wouldn’t he have kept the fact that he could manipulate her emotions to himself?
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