She would’ve kept her ability to read his mind to herself if she’d been able to. And he really had no idea how often she had violated his privacy and perused his thoughts without permission before he’d begun to block them.
Slowly, she crossed to the table and sat down once more. “Is the advanced DNA you claim we both have the reason your eyes glow?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. “Since your eyes don’t glow, I’m not sure. I fear something else may be responsible.”
She couldn’t imagine what that something else might be. “Let me read your thoughts.”
“Susan…”
“Please,” she added. “One last time. I need to know I can trust you.”
He sighed. “So be it.” And just like that, his mind opened to her.
Once more she marveled over how odd it was to read the mind of someone who couldn’t remember his past. Minds usually resembled libraries. The memories were all there, like books sitting on shelves, waiting for her to retrieve and peruse them. Some were shiny and new and on display right in front. Others were dusty and neglected and tucked away in back with pages missing.
But with him, she couldn’t see the books—his memories—at all. She knew they were there. She could sense them. Like furniture in a seldom-used vacation home, covered by sheets.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to compare his memories to the recently declassified documents that occasionally made the news. The ones that only let you see a word or phrase here or there and blacked out the rest. His past—his life before he had been buried in her basement—had been obscured by thick dark swipes of a marker. Only those that had formed once he had awakened could be seen.
There were precious few of them. And they whorled around in such disarray with his thoughts that she found it hard to examine them. But she managed to get the gist of it.
He didn’t want her to fear him. He actually dreaded that more than he did the idea of being forced back down into that hole in her basement and buried once more. The fact that she did fear him now, that she distrusted him as much as she did, that she felt even a moment’s discomfort or uneasiness because of him upset him more than his missing memory did.
He was so damned grateful to her for helping him. And he liked her. Admired her strength. Her courage, which she herself found lacking. Loved that she could joke and laugh despite the bizarre and troubling circumstances they found themselves in.
He also needed her and dreaded leaving her. Because after the isolation he had suffered, he craved her company and touch more than he did the food and drink he’d been denied for so long. But if she asked him to, he would leave in a heartbeat.
Her breath left her in a rush.
He just didn’t want her to fear him. That was why he had closed his thoughts to her. He had discovered other oddities about himself—oddities like his eyes that she couldn’t seem to ferret out amid the tempest of his thoughts—and wished to hide them, because he didn’t want to frighten her.
He had no other motivation.
He believed more than ever that calling the police would place her in danger because of the whole gifted ones thing. He feared what would happen to her if their differences should come to light. He was convinced that such always prompted dire consequences. And she knew from past experience that he was right.
The reminder of what had happened to her when the wrong people had learned of her telepathy made her shudder before she tamped the memory down.
He wasn’t a criminal or a scam artist. He was just… lost.
Lowering his eyes, he curled both hands into fists on the table’s edge.
He thought she was going to tell him to leave. She wasn’t sure what he worried she was reading in his chaotic, fractured thoughts, but he believed it would turn her away from him.
Did the oddities that concerned him really matter though?
So he was different. She was, too. She had been all her life and had been rebuffed and rejected for it time and time again. She wouldn’t turn around and reject him because he was an empath. Particularly since he had accepted her differences with grace and without condemnation.
Swallowing hard, Susan slid one hand across the table, palm up.
His gaze rose and met hers.
She cleared her throat. “Anytime you need me,” she reaffirmed, “I’m here. Okay?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Reaching out tentatively, he took her hand in his. “I’m sorry I betrayed you.”
“I’m not. I mean, I was at first. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found you.” She squeezed his hand. “And I’m really glad I found you.”
He covered their clasped hands, sandwiching hers between both of his. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Yes, you do.” He was a good guy. Instinct and everything she had read in his mind told her as much. She had found some pretty ugly stuff in the minds of the men she had dated in the past. His mind was a refreshing change. “Now finish your dinner. I know you’re still hungry.” While in his head, she had seen what a struggle it had been for him to eat slowly for her sake.
Nodding, he released her hand with obvious reluctance and filled his fork.
As Susan watched him, she wondered how they might find their way back to the burgeoning friendship they had found before things had gotten so serious. “I really have advanced DNA?”
He swallowed his latest mouthful. “All gifted ones do.”
“You make it sound as if there are quite a few of us.”
“There are.” He frowned. “Damn it, why can I remember that but not remember my own name?”
“Actually, in the interest of full disclosure…” She broached the subject with the same hesitance he had demonstrated when speaking the words earlier.
A muscle in his jaw jumped. She’s right. Whatever follows those words will not be good.
She laughed.
He cast her a questioning look. “What?” Then his lips formed a rueful smile. “Oh. Right. You’re reading my thoughts. Would you be offended if I went back to guarding them?”
“Not as long as you stop manipulating my emotions.”
“I already have. Your emotions have been your own ever since I lowered my mental barriers. And I’ll not alter them again unless you wish it,” he vowed.
“Thank you.”
An instant later, she could no longer glean his thoughts. He really must know other telepaths, otherwise he wouldn’t know how to do that.
He arched his brows. “What did you wish to tell me?”
“I know this is going to sound weird, but I think I might know your name.”
He stared at her. “What?”
“I think I know your name.”
Unease crept into his features. “How do you know my name?”
“When I sleep, the thoughts of others nearby tend to creep into my mind, and sometimes I can be pulled into their dreams. It’s why I was so desperate to find a place out in the middle of nowhere.”
He nodded. “That sounds familiar. Other telepaths must have told me the same.”
How she wished she could meet those other telepaths. Being different was hard when you thought there was no one else like you. It was one of the reasons she wanted so badly to trust him. He was the first person she’d met—aside from her mother and brother—who was different. “Well, I had a dream when I fell asleep down in the hole with you. Or fainted. Or whatever it was that left me sleeping beside you while you held my hand.”
He eyed her curiously as she trailed off. “A dream about me?”
“Sort of. I’m pretty sure it was actually your dream and I was pulled into it, because I was tall like you in the dream. My voice sounded like yours does now that you aren’t hoarse. And when I looked into a mirror, I saw…”
“Me?”
“I think so. You’re different now. A lot thinner.”
“And banged up pretty good?”
She smiled. “Yes. But the resemblance is strong. Anyway, a man in the d
ream called me by name. Or rather called you by name.”
“What was the name?”
“Stanislav.”
“Stanislav,” he repeated experimentally. “Stanislav,” he said again, liking the way it sounded. When he let it roll off his tongue a third time, a face briefly surfaced in his mind. A man his height with similar dark hair and eyes, reading beside him in a windowless bedroom.
Susan peered at him. “Does it ring a bell?”
He nodded. “It seems familiar. And I remembered someone.”
Her face lit with the same excitement that unfurled in his chest. “Who?”
“A friend, I think. Or perhaps a brother. He had dark hair and eyes like mine and a Slavic look about him. The image was there and gone in a blink. But he was sitting beside me as we both read books.”
She smiled. “That’s awesome! You see? It’ll all come back to you soon.”
He hoped so. He also hoped with a desperation that alarmed him that the source of his differences—when it came to light—wouldn’t drive her away from him. He hadn’t thought he would be able to hide them from her, but she clearly hadn’t found them during her search.
His stomach soon began to warn him that too much food too soon might result in him spewing his dinner all over the table, so Stanislav reluctantly lowered his fork.
A half smile still toyed with the corners of Susan’s full lips. “Had enough?”
“My mind says no, but my stomach says yes.”
She rose, gathering their plates. “I’ve heard that eating too much after a long fast can result in your losing the meal, so you’re probably right to play it safe. If you want more later though, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
“I need to feed Jax. Would you like to watch a movie or something afterward?”
Not much else he could do right now. “Sounds good.”
The only rooms downstairs that Susan had unpacked were the small bathroom, the kitchen, and what she called the breakfast nook. So after dinner, the two of them returned to her bedroom upstairs.
Susan brought a chair in for Stanislav to sit in while she replaced the dirt-encrusted bedding with fresh sheets, pillowcases, and a soft comforter. At one point she glanced over at him and laughed.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, her hazel eyes twinkling with merriment. “You just look so disgruntled.”
He smiled wryly. “I don’t feel comfortable sitting idle while you labor to change bedding I mussed.”
“Then we’re even. Because I feel awful about not insisting you let me take you to the emergency room.”
He shook his head. “I can’t risk their discovering my advanced DNA.”
“I understand. I just don’t like to see you suffer.” Done with her task, she patted the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
As she left the room, Stanislav rose and—with slow steps—crossed to the bed. He felt a little better, having eaten. But he was still a long way from being whole again. His wounds might not bleed, but they weren’t healing. He didn’t seem to be gaining strength either, his weakness so great that just climbing the stairs had taxed him. Every movement remained an exercise in torture. Simply lowering himself onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and straightening the towel wrapped about his hips hurt like hell.
A very appealing scent carried up the stairs as faint thumping sounds erupted below. A few minutes later, Susan entered, hugging two full glasses of water to her chest with one arm while balancing a huge bowl of popcorn in the other.
He grinned. As soon as she drew near, he took the glasses from her.
“Thank you.” Climbing onto the bed, she settled beside him and plunked the bowl down between them.
He handed her a glass and set his own on a coaster on the bedside table.
As soon as she set her glass down, she retrieved the remote from the nightstand on her side of the bed and turned on the large high-def television that graced the wall across from them. “What do you feel like watching?”
He smiled. “Anything that strikes your fancy.”
Her own lips curled up as she sent him a look he would’ve thought flirtatious under other circumstances. “I love the way you talk.”
And he loved being with her like this.
“It’s funny. Your accent makes me think you’re Russian, but your thoughts are more often than not in English.”
He puzzled over that one for a moment. “Perhaps I came to the United States when I was a boy and have lived here long enough that thinking in English has become a norm.”
“Are you fluent in Russian?” she asked, her face bright with curiosity.
He ran several phrases through his head. “Yes. French, too, it would seem,” he added when he was able to call up the other language. “And German. Italian. Spanish.”
She stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you work as a translator for a publishing house.”
He tried to picture himself sitting behind a desk all day and couldn’t. “Perhaps.”
She seemed to sense the frustration rising within him once more and changed the subject. “So you have no movie preferences? No particular genre you’d like to watch?”
He shook his head. “You choose.”
They ended up watching a movie about an alien man with a cape who wielded a large magical hammer and another man who turned green and grew huge in size when angered.
Susan winked at him. “I’m glad your eyes glow. I much prefer that to your turning into a crazed green giant.”
He laughed. “As do I.”
Though he enjoyed her company, Stanislav could barely keep his eyes open by the end of the movie.
Susan brought a hand to her mouth to conceal a big yawn. “I know we haven’t been awake for very long, but I’m about to fall asleep.”
“I think I may have nodded off a couple of times during the movie,” he admitted.
“Let’s go ahead and call it a night then.” Rising, she groaned. “Oh, man. I am so sore from all that digging. I really need to start exercising again.”
His gaze traveled over her slender form. A red T-shirt hugged alluring breasts and a narrow waist. Her jeans outlined full hips and hugged a tight ass and shapely legs he shouldn’t be ogling.
What had she been talking about?
It took him a moment to remember. Oh. Right. She was sore. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
But he did. He didn’t like causing her discomfort. “How are your hands?” He held his out, palm up.
Rounding the bed slowly, she placed hers in them.
Stanislav sat up straighter and examined them closely, then swore. Raw, open blisters marred the skin at the crooks of her thumbs and the base of every finger. She had gripped that shovel for so long that the blisters had all popped and the flap of loose skin on each had torn away. It looked painful. And she had said nothing, not even complaining when she had held one hand over the steaming pot of pasta while stirring it, something that must have made her hand hurt even more.
“Stop beating yourself up about it,” she ordered softly.
He raised his head, on a level with hers though he sat and she stood.
“I wasn’t intentionally listening to your thoughts,” she told him. “You were sort of broadcasting them. And it wasn’t your fault.”
“I beg to differ. Had I not compelled you to dig me up—”
“You would probably be dead right now,” she finished for him. Withdrawing one hand, she drew it over his hair. “It was worth it.”
His pulse raced at her touch. His gaze dropped to her lips. He heard her heartbeat pick up.
Swiveling, she turned and retrieved the empty popcorn bowl. “I’ll just take this downstairs.” In the next instant, she was gone.
Stanislav released his breath on a long sigh. What the hell had he been thinking? He had almost kissed her, and
he didn’t even know who he was.
When Susan returned, she headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and change into another set of those tempting pajamas.
Stanislav waited until she finished, then brushed his own teeth. Excitement rose, making his damned eyes flare brighter. Would she let him sleep beside her again tonight?
He cut the light off and strode into the bedroom.
She was already tucked between the sheets.
He hesitated.
She patted the mattress beside her.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” she replied, no doubt in her voice.
He walked around to the far side of the bed and lay down next to her beneath the sheets, trying to keep the damned towel around his hips.
It felt different tonight, lying beside her. More intimate.
She turned off the lamp on her bedside table, plunging them into darkness his sharp eyes had little difficulty piercing. “Good night.”
He stared at her, admiring her pale features. “Good night.” Clasping his hands so he wouldn’t reach for her, he rested them on his stomach.
Her face turned toward him, but he knew she couldn’t find him in the shadows.
Reaching toward him with her right hand, she found his left on his stomach and twined her fingers through his.
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Did she know how much he needed her touch?
Rolling toward her, he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, then cradled it against his chest.
She smiled and rolled onto her side to face him.
What did she see when she peered at him through the darkness?
“Your eyes are so beautiful,” she whispered.
He could see their amber glow reflected in hers. “It doesn’t frighten you, their glowing?”
She squeezed his hand. “You can read my emotions. Do I feel frightened to you?”
“No.” Though none of the emotions he felt swirling inside her included fear, he found himself doubting the veracity of the information his gift conveyed. He knew the concern she felt for him was real. But surely she didn’t also feel burgeoning affection for him.
Awaken the Darkness Page 9