Awaken the Darkness

by Dianne Duvall

  “You should have made an excuse to check it out,” came the caustic reply.

  “Like what?” Henry protested, irritation rising. “She said the basement has no windows or doors.”

  “Did she act suspicious, like maybe she’s found the package herself?”

  “No. Not at all. She’s too afraid of bugs to even go down there.”

  “Then we’ll go in at daybreak and catch her off guard before she’s up and about.”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that. She’s going out of town in a couple of days.”

  “She is? For how long?”

  “A week. She wanted to know how the alarm system would work without her there.”

  “Perfect.”

  “But she has a dog. What if she leaves it behind?”

  “We’ll kill it. This is big. I’m not letting any mongrel fuck this up. And that includes you.”

  Oh yeah. Henry was furious and wrapped up the call as quickly as he could.

  Stanislav gripped the undercarriage of the van and pulled himself up off the ground.

  A steady stream of curses and smart-ass responses Henry wished he would’ve made accompanied the rumble of the vehicle as it swung onto the two-lane road and increased its speed until meadows, forests, and pastures flew by in a blur.

  Though the effort made pain return full-force, Stanislav held himself in place until Henry had put several miles between himself and Susan’s home. After the screwup with the locksmith, he wasn’t taking any chances. He hadn’t expected Susan to walk down and check her mail so early in the day and had assumed the locksmith would be long gone by the time she did. He wouldn’t risk her finding another unconscious man.

  Tightening his hold, he suddenly kicked the undercarriage hard enough to make the vehicle bounce, then threw his body to one side. The van veered in that direction.

  Swearing, Henry hit the brakes and drew the van to a stop on the shoulder. “Did a fucking deer run into me or something?” he grumbled. “Stupid bastard.” Throwing the driver’s door open, he stepped out to check the damage. “Gonna run my damned insurance up,” he groused as gravel crunched beneath his boots. “I don’t see anything.” More gravel crunched as he circled the front of the van. “Nothing here either. What the hell?”

  As the man stomped around to the back, Stanislav relaxed his hold and lowered himself to the dirt.

  “Shit. I don’t know what it was,” Henry mumbled and started toward the driver’s door.

  Stanislav rose to his knees on the opposite side and gave the vehicle a hard push.

  Henry sucked in his breath. A tinkling sound arose as the man’s hand began to shake, vibrating the keys he held. “What the hell?” he whispered.

  With hesitant footsteps, Henry returned to the back of the vehicle.

  A moment of silence followed. Then keys jangled as Henry unlocked the back doors.

  His breath shortening, Henry yanked the back doors open with a roar to confront whatever he thought lay within.

  Stanislav raced around and came up behind him so quickly that anyone watching would’ve only seen a blur.

  Henry wasn’t watching. He was staring into the van, fists raised, expecting something to leap out at him.

  Stanislav gave the man a hard shove, then leapt into the van with him and pulled the doors closed.

  Henry yelped as he hit the floor. Flipping over onto his ass, he gawked up at Stanislav. “Oh shit!”

  Stanislav struck before the man could go for a weapon or a tool. “You shouldn’t have agreed to kill the dog,” Stanislav informed the trembling man. “Susan loves that dog.”

  When his eyes flashed brilliant amber, the man began to scream.

  Several minutes later, Stanislav hoisted the unconscious male over one shoulder, carried him around to the driver’s side, and dumped him behind the wheel.

  The men Henry conspired with weren’t the ones who had buried Stanislav. Those two had worked for a mercenary outfit nearby. And though their bodies had never been found, all believed the men had died in a mass shooting or something along those lines that had taken place at the mercenary compound. Henry’s friend—the one who had mentioned killing the dog—had received a call from one of Stanislav’s attackers about a package he’d buried in the basement of Susan’s home shortly before his demise.

  Henry had been kept mostly out of the loop because of his tendency to talk too much when he drank. So Henry wasn’t sure what exactly the package was but knew his friend intended to sell it to…

  Well, Henry didn’t know to whom they wished to sell Stanislav and didn’t really care. His friend was serious about the money to be made, and Henry wanted his share of the millions he thought the package would bring them.

  After fastening the man’s seat belt, Stanislav started the van and put it in drive. He walked beside it long enough to steer it off the road, then pushed it hard into a tree.

  When Henry awoke, he would remember nothing between leaving Susan’s home and crashing into the old oak.

  Susan cast Stanislav another surreptitious glance, relieved that he was feeling better. Before, tension had ridden his form, stiffening every movement and appearing to cut deep. But he had seemed to relax as the day, then night had progressed. Seemed to move more easily, too, and had acquired a grace that made it hard not to stare.

  The man was handsome even with hollow cheeks and gashes on his face. And she knew she must be imagining it, but his shoulders seemed to broaden as the hours passed.

  His spirits were certainly lighter. She had suggested they test the memory waters with a series of questions to see what would come to him and what wouldn’t.

  “What’s your favorite color?” she asked him.

  “Red. What’s yours?”

  “Green. Favorite season?”

  “Winter.”

  “Mine, too. Favorite song?”

  A moment’s thought, then a shake of the head. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe something more general. Favorite type of music?”

  Another pause. Another shake of his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Favorite snack?”

  “Popcorn,” he promptly responded, scooping up another handful from the bowl that rested half on his lap and half on hers as the two of them reclined, shoulders touching, on the bed, watching television.

  She suspected popcorn was a current favorite. “Favorite thing to do when you get some downtime?”

  He winked. “Watch movies with you.”

  She grinned, loving him like this. Lighthearted. Almost playful.

  When the show ended, they split up to get ready for bed.

  Susan bypassed her shorty pajamas and donned a silky green chemise nightgown in the bathroom, then questioned her sanity when she looked in the mirror.

  Would he take the change in nightwear as an invitation? No more shorts and tanks. Instead, soft silk fell halfway down her thighs, left her shoulders mostly bare, and showed a lot of cleavage.

  She bit her lip. Was it an invitation?

  The fact that no denials immediately flooded her mind probably wasn’t a good sign. Stanislav couldn’t remember who he was, didn’t know if he was married or single. And someone had tried to kill him. How exactly did all of that add up to good lover material?

  Idiot, she inwardly grumbled.

  He was just such a likable guy. She knew he needed to rest and recuperate, so they had pretty much spent the whole day talking. One didn’t have to remember one’s past to have a personality, and his was very appealing. She had come to the conclusion that he was quiet natured. Not shy. Just quiet. With an old-world charm that continued to delight her.

  He seemed to like touching her. Holding her hand. Brushing her hair back from her face. Resting a hand on her back when they climbed the stairs side by side. She wasn’t sure if he was just naturally affectionate or if he simply needed the human contact after his seclusion beneath the soil in her basement. Either way, she didn’t mind. She liked how his touch
made her feel.

  She had been alone for a long time. Too long, perhaps. Was that and the fact that Stanislav was fine with her being different warping her judgment?

  “Susan?” he called from the bedroom.

  “Yes?”

  “I can feel your anxiety. Would you like me to sleep in one of the other rooms?”

  Flicking off the light, she opened the bathroom door. “No. I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, remember?” He might be moving more easily, but he was still wounded.

  “That won’t bother me. I’m feeling better now, so a night on the floor won’t…” His voice trailed off as she stepped into the light.

  Susan dearly wanted to duck back into the bathroom. What the hell had she been thinking? Wanting to look nice for him? Not wanting him to take it as an invitation and—at the same time—hoping he would take it as an invitation? Because she hadn’t felt such an intense instant attraction coupled with affection for a man in a very long time. And that affection and attraction kept trying to force caution and common sense out the door.

  The silence stretched.

  Stanislav stood on the opposite side of the bed, his thin form clad in a black T-shirt and boxers that did little to hide the fact that the sight of her in this nightgown aroused him.

  His eyes acquired an amber glow. “I should definitely sleep in another room.”

  Even with the gashes on his face and arms and—her brow furrowed—on his legs, he looked handsome. Sheesh. There seemed to be no part of him that had been left unmarred.

  “No,” she stated firmly. Before she could change her mind, she crossed to the bed, slipped beneath the covers, then looked at him expectantly.

  “Where’s Jax?” he asked, unmoving.

  “Downstairs. He likes to sit on the ottoman at night and watch out the back window for raccoons and opossums. Why?”

  “He’s the only chaperone available to us.”

  She grinned. “And you think he’d object to your trying to cop a feel?”

  He smiled. “Maybe not. But a dog staring balefully at me from across the room might dampen the temptation somewhat.”

  Shaking her head with a laugh, Susan relaxed and patted the mattress beside her. “Come here.”

  He shut off the light, then climbed into bed with her.

  She had expected him to lie on his back like her since he seemed disinclined to engage in love play. But he surprised her by turning onto his side to face her.

  Susan did the same.

  Her heart did a pleasant little dance when he clasped one of her hands in his and carried it to his lips. His big feet found hers under the covers, stroking and tangling with them.

  “I think it would be very easy to fall for you,” he murmured.

  Her pulse raced.

  He raised his other hand and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “But I need to confirm I’m free to be with you before I let myself give in to this attraction, dredge up whatever rusty charm I can muster, and attempt to woo you.”

  Even that showed how worthy he was. He might not know his past, but he clearly was an honorable man. “You are so damned appealing,” she told him, both a compliment and a complaint.

  “Not nearly as appealing as you,” he countered, a twinkle of mischief entering his luminescent eyes. “I think my heart stopped beating for several minutes when I saw you in your nightgown.”

  She wrinkled her nose, self-consciousness blooming. “I should’ve stuck with the shorts.”

  “My body responded just as strongly to you in the shorts, or have you forgotten?”

  She smiled. “Hell no, I haven’t forgotten.”

  He laughed. Easing forward, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so tender she almost forgot the lust he inspired. “What a treasure you are.”

  She shook her head. “Since I found you in my basement, I think you’re the one who qualifies as treasure.”

  Again he laughed. “Roll away from me.”

  “What?” she asked, not quite catching the request.

  “Roll away from me.”

  She did so, a little disappointed that he—

  She sucked in a breath when he spooned up behind her.

  He slipped one arm beneath her head and wrapped the other around her waist. His hard, muscled thighs came up against the back of hers, trapping his erection between them. Considering how much taller he was than her, she was surprised by how perfectly they fit together.

  “I just want to hold you,” he murmured, nuzzling the back of her neck. Clearly he wanted to do more than that, but she understood his reservations. “Is this okay?”

  She nodded. Taking his hand, she twined her fingers through his and hugged it against her chest. “More than okay.”

  Both sighed in contentment.

  “It’s so odd, not having a past,” he said softly.

  Susan couldn’t imagine it.

  “Would you share some of yours with me?” he asked after a moment.

  “Sure. What would you like to know?”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.” She thought for a moment. “I think the longest relationship I’ve ever had only lasted four months.”

  “Because of the telepathy?”

  She nodded. “Some things are meant to remain private. And when I’m tired or sick or distracted or stressed, I can’t keep people’s thoughts out of my head. Guys tend to not like that. And I tend to not like it when I hear uncomplimentary things about myself in a guy’s mind or find him thinking about someone else when he’s with me. It just sucks.” She smoothed her thumb over his strong hand. “It’s nice, not being able to hear your thoughts when you guard them like this. I don’t usually get to enjoy quiet when I’m around other people. Now it’s so quiet I can hear my own heart pounding at the feel of you against me.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “It wasn’t intentional. I just meant…” She shook her head. “It’s nice. This is nice.”

  He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Did you tell your boyfriends you were telepathic?”

  She hesitated. “Some.”

  “Not all?”

  “No.” Not that there had been very many.

  “Why?”

  A long moment passed as she considered how to answer. Or how much to tell him if she did answer.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you—”

  “It’s okay. It’s just…” She sighed, reluctant to revisit the past. “I didn’t date at all when I was in high school. I didn’t really want to since I could hear the hormone-driven thoughts of the male students.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sure they were all obsessed with your beauty.”

  She snorted. “Not in the least. They were only interested in my friends who developed earlier than I did. I was a late bloomer, so most of the time when the boys actually deigned to speak to me, they spent the whole time thinking about the other girls’ breasts and what it would take to get them to go all the way with them or give them a blow job under the stairs.”

  “Classy.”

  She laughed. “In college, the first two guys I dated ended up thinking I was a total flake when I told them I was telepathic. I didn’t tell them right away. I was nervous about how they would react.”

  “People tend to view those who are different from them with suspicion and distrust.”

  “Exactly. So I waited until we had grown closer and become lovers. But…” She shrugged. “I guess we weren’t close enough, or they wouldn’t have thought me a nutcase.”

  “Imbeciles,” he muttered. He actually sounded insulted on her behalf.

  “My third boyfriend thought it was great when I first told him, then grew more and more frustrated when I couldn’t predict the winning lotto numbers.”

  “What?” he asked, his tone perplexed.

  She smiled. “He had never heard of telepaths before and though it meant I was psychic. When I explained that it meant I could
read his thoughts, not predict the future, he wanted me to go to Vegas with him and read the minds of the other poker players so he could rack up some winnings. I said I didn’t want to. He kept pushing. So I bailed.”

  “Where did you find these numbskulls?” he muttered.

  Amusement sifted through her, taking the ugly edge off the memories. “Clearly I wasn’t very good at picking them.”

  “Was he the last one you told?”

  Her amusement died abruptly. “No. There was one more. A graduate student at UCLA I dated a year after I earned my BA there.” Unease crept through her, making her stomach flutter. “We had been together exclusively for four months when I started to pick up on thoughts he was having about his ex-girlfriend. Ted had bumped into her at a school function and was thinking about hooking up with her again. I was pissed that he would even consider cheating on me, so I confronted him. And when he wanted to know how I found out, I told him.”

  Silence fell.

  “I take it he didn’t react well?” he posed softly.

  Her mood darkened as she remembered. “He actually was very intrigued by it all. So intrigued that it drove all thoughts of his ex right out of his head. I was so relieved. He was the first guy who seemed to accept my differences.” It had been such a refreshing change that she had fallen head over heels in love with him.

  “What happened?”

  “A week later, he called me from school and asked me to meet him for dinner. But instead of a romantic table for two, when I met him at the restaurant he led me to a table for four where two men in suits were waiting for us. The first was one of his professors. The second was the professor’s colleague. Both were very interested in my telepathy.”

  He swore softly. “He betrayed your confidence?”

  “Without a moment’s guilt.”

  “The bastard. How interested were these men?”

  “Too interested. I was furious that Ted had shared my secret with them.”

  “Your fury was justified.”

  “The men were very friendly and casual about it verbally, saying all the right things to put me at ease. But the thoughts I found in their heads—the ones I guess they couldn’t hide, or maybe didn’t even try to hide because they didn’t realize just how strong my telepathy was—scared the hell out of me.” Just thinking about it gave her chills. “They wanted to study me. In a lab. They wanted to determine the strength of my telepathy, see if they could discover the source of it, then duplicate it.”