by Anna Durand
A flicker of movement made me glance at the parking lot below. I didn't see anything, though, and returned my attention to the problem at hand.
"Lindsey, dear, is that you?" My neighbor flapped a hand at me.
I waved back. "Have a good night, Mrs. Kantola."
Teeth gritted, I snagged Nevan's arm and towed him inside. The door clapped shut.
He raised one eyebrow. "Pleased to see me, are ye?"
"You can't walk around dressed like that." I pointed at the door. "If my neighbor had seen you, I'd be the subject of town gossip for days, maybe weeks."
"Why do you care what others think?"
"I don't." I ran a hand over my forehead, back and forth. "Maybe I do."
"Relax, love." He cupped my elbow and guided me to the sofa. "You're far too tense. Sit and eat. I created this meal just for you and I'm certain you'll feel much better once you've gotten some food into your belly." He patted my behind. "Sit."
I made a half-hearted attempt at a scowl, then gave in and collapsed onto the sofa. He set the tray on my lap. I pushed up out of my slouch, tipping forward to examine what he'd brought me.
Nevan plucked the lids off the plate and bowls. Steam curled up from the food, flooding my senses with heavenly aromas — spicy and sweet, with a hint of berries. My mouth watered again, for a very different reason this time. The plate seemed to hold a meat dish, though I didn't recognize it. One bowl contained leafy stuff reminiscent of spinach, though with an unusual golden tinge. In the second bowl, what resembled fruit overflowed from a flaky, pastry-like shell.
Head down, I peeked up at Nevan. "You cooked this?"
"I did."
"For me."
"Yes."
He lowered his body onto the sofa beside me, the cushion compressing under his weight. My cushion tilted slightly toward him. My cheek skirted his mouth. I bounced backward and the dishes slid across the tray.
He tapped my chin. "Eat, before your meal gets cold."
"You sound like my mother."
His finger glided up my jaw, his touch feather-light on my skin. His fingertip traced soft circles under my ear, teasing the lobe. Every inch of my flesh awakened to the sensations around me. The soft, but uneven, texture of the sofa cushions. The weight of the food tray. The heat of his skin.
Slanting toward me, he splayed his fingers over my cheek, the heel of his hand rough against the corner of my mouth.
I struggled to keep from turning my face into his palm. "What do you want from me?"
"From you? Nothing." The exhalations from his husky murmur stirred the gossamer hairs on my cheek. "With you… I'm uncertain."
"Why do you keep coming back? I said awful things and told you to stay away."
"I deserved your words."
"But why come back?"
"Can't explain it." He dragged his hand down my face. His fingers trailed over my skin, falling away one by one. "I sensed an energy in you, but it's nothing like the touch I seek out as part of my duty." He lingered close to me, a gap of inches between us. "That's why I neglected to kiss you. I've wanted to, believe me, but I can tell you aren't quite ready for me."
I stammered, but couldn't form coherent words. My breaths quickened. I moistened my lips, as if I might taste his withheld kiss.
His gaze roved over me. "There is an unusual power in you, buried deep. Have you not felt it?"
"All I feel is you." I slapped a hand over my mouth. My fingers muffled my voice. "Forget I said that."
His lips parted, then closed. He canted his head. "Do you mean you've sensed my approach, as you did in the car?"
My limbs refused to budge.
Nevan pried my fingers away from my mouth. "Lindsey — "
"Yes, okay, yes." I locked my hands over my midsection. "Happy now?"
His chuckle rippled through me with physical pleasure. He patted my knee. "Happier, yes. But I won't be fully satisfied until you eat."
"Only if you promise to explain a few things while I stuff my face."
He drew a cross over his heart with one finger. The lines bisected the scar. He raised his hand, palm out. "I swear it on my very existence."
A brilliant smile enlivened his features, lighting him up from the inside. A matching glow ignited inside me. In spite of myself, I relaxed into the sofa and dug into the meal he'd prepared specially for me. I discovered a fork and knife hidden under the plate's lip. The meat dish melted on my tongue, rife with exotic spices, and I moaned my appreciation.
Nevan tensed, his eyes narrowed on me.
"What?" I asked with food in my mouth. Good thing Mom wasn't here.
He swallowed visibly. "Your noises confound me."
"Mmm-mm means I like it." I forked a hunk of meat glistening with savory sauce.
"I see."
The faint growl in his voice made me glance up at him. A hint of white teeth gleamed behind his parted lips. I froze with the fork halfway to my mouth. "Stop looking at me that way."
"What way might that be?"
"Like you want to… uh… "
"Kiss you?" The pink tip of his tongue danced behind his teeth. "As I said, I won't do it until you're ready."
"I suppose you're going to decide when I'm ready."
His gaze tracked down to my throat and he pulled in a heavy breath. "Perhaps you are ready."
"There you go, making assumptions about me again."
"No assumptions." He nodded at my chest and his Adam's apple bobbed. "The way you're touching yourself speaks to the truth."
"Excuse me?" I glanced down — and froze. My right hand hovered over my breast, concealed by my blouse and scarf. My fingers feathered over my breast, stroking along the inner slope. The slight tickle of my own caress hadn't registered in my brain, overwhelmed by the tingles coursing up and down my body, triggered by Nevan's proximity. I jerked my hand, clamping it tight, but my wrist chafed my nipple.
"Take it easy, darlin'. I won't kiss ye." He bent closer still, his skin a hair's breadth from mine. "Not tonight."
My chest pumped out quick, shallow breaths and my body hummed with a need I refused to acknowledge. "Keep your lips away from mine, please."
"As you wish."
He ducked his head to mine, his lips a millimeter from my cheek, and blew a steamy current across my skin. He moved his mouth down my face, never making contact but eliciting hard shivers with every whisper of his breath across my flesh. A tiny noise burst out of me, a cross between a gasp and a moan, so soft I prayed he hadn't noticed. His muscles tightened, his shoulders bulged. As his lips approached the corner of my mouth, he exhaled a soft, erotic breath that unleashed a crushing need within me.
I tried to speak with authority, but it came out breathless. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping my lips away from yours." His breaths fanned across my cheek to my ear. I heard nothing except his exhalations and my own pulse throbbing in my ears. He brushed his mouth across my lobe. "Is this far enough?"
He nibbled my earlobe.
A memory blasted through my mind. Teeth biting down, tearing, nails scraping down my neck, fingers grasping my throat, a voice snarling in my ear. You're mine forever, even beyond death.
I slapped my palms on Nevan's chest and shoved him away. I shook my head with such violence my hair flapped around my face.
Eyes wide, face blanched, Nevan searched my gaze with his own. "What in the name of the stars is wrong?"
"I — " Words clogged my throat, trapped there. I squeezed my eyes shut to banish the memory to the recesses of my brain, where it belonged, before I looked at Nevan again.
He rubbed his hands on his thighs. His smile was bitter. "I pushed too far too soon. You may have noted my tendency toward taking liberties."
I was too shaken to appreciate his attempt at humor. Other men I'd known would've gotte
n angry if I physically ejected them from my personal space. Nevan seemed to understand.
Right. After knowing him for less than a day, he understood me. Juiced up by hormones, I willed my voice to stay calm. "It's not you. I have… bad memories."
He nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to appreciate that."
I cleared my throat. "You should go. I'm seriously damaged, which means you're wasting your moves on me."
"Nothing is wasted on you."
Slumping into the sofa, I closed my eyes. "You seem nice enough, in a strange way, but I met you this morning. I have no idea who or what you are."
"I'm Nevan." He tipped his chin up, pride evident in his voice. "And I'm a sylph."
I whipped my head sideways to stare at him. "A what?"
"Sylph. I believe your kind describes us as elemental spirits of the air."
I poked his chest. His firm flesh resisted the pressure of my finger. "You seem pretty solid to me, not at all airy."
"I am not made of air. I was forged from the earth and the air, but I'm as corporeal as you."
"Sure, that makes perfect sense."
His lips twisted in a half smile. "After everything you've seen today, how can you not believe in the Unseen realm? I am an elemental being from another world parallel to yours. A land of magic."
"Uh-huh." Maybe I just wasn't smart enough to get it. I felt dense as a steel brick right now.
"You've seen some of what I can do."
"Yeah." I closed my fist around the knot in my scarf. "You can change your appearance. How do I know this is the real you?"
"Because it is. You have to trust me, but I've come to realize you have trouble with such things. Since you first began working at the shop, I've seen you every day while I carry out my duties. I would never approach you in glamour. Never."
"You've been stalking me for three months?"
"No." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I saw you, in the course of my duties."
From what he'd said about his duty, and what I'd seen of it, I believed him. "Okay, you're not a stalker. But what's glamour?"
"An incantation to disguise my appearance." He touched a fingertip to my jaw. "I've never hidden myself from you."
"Yes you did. When I saw you with Sandy, you were an old man."
"Ah. That." He scratched his cheek. "Our encounter then was an accident. Besides, you recognized me. I would never intentionally deceive you."
I wanted to believe him. Though the reason why eluded me, the compulsion was strong.
His finger fell away from my face, his gaze diverted to the floor.
I took in the lines of his profile, then my attention drifted lower, sweeping down to the waist of his loincloth. I jerked my gaze up to his face. "Earlier today, a creepy guy turned up in the shop and he sort of threatened me. He had weird eyes a lot like yours. Do you know anything about him?"
Nevan snapped bolt upright. He grasped my shoulders. "This man, how did he threaten you?"
"Well, first he called me a tolerable specimen worth bedding once or twice." I wound the end of my scarf around my fingers. "Then he said the guardian is bound to him and I should remember that."
Nevan's fingers clamped harder around my arms. "What else?"
"I'm pretty sure he poofed away."
"He said nothing else?"
"Nope."
He let go and sagged against the sofa.
"You know this guy?" I asked.
"Skeiron."
A cold serpent wriggled down my spine. "Your king Skeiron?"
"Correct."
"I've never met him. He has no reason to bother me."
"Protecting the sanctity of the Unseen realm is reason enough for him."
I closed my eyes, my head drooping. Sylphs. Kings. Magic. My brain spun its wheels, unable to find traction in this new reality. I cracked my lids apart.
Nevan leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. "Interfering in the mortal world is forbidden. You are forbidden."
He infused the word forbidden with both bleakness and sensuality. I was forbidden. Until today, nobody ever cared enough to label me off limits. I rested my chin in my cupped hand, my fingers partly covering my mouth. "I don't understand any of this."
Nevan shoved a hand through his hair. "I cannot explain further, I'm sorry, wish I could. The risk is too grave now that Skeiron has discovered my interest in you."
I squinted at him and let my hands fall. "What do you mean the risk is too grave?"
"The danger to me, not you." He grazed a thumb across my lips. "Please forgive me. I should never have revealed myself, but when I saw you weeping over the death of a man you'd never known, I had to intervene." He rose to his feet with the fluid grace of water flowing over a boulder. "I must go."
"You haven't finished explaining."
He pecked a kiss on my forehead. "Sorry, love. I have duties to fulfill."
"More women to kiss, you mean." Why did I sound grumpy?
"Don't worry," Nevan said, eyes sparkling. "I'll be testing no more women."
"Won't you get in trouble for shirking your duty?"
"Perhaps." He nuzzled the top of my head. "But not immediately."
He stepped back and I sensed he was about to disappear. "Wait. I have more questions. What about the missing body — "
Nevan vanished.
I was left to cuddle up with my confusion.
7
The sun stabbed into my eyes through my lids. A headache raged behind my eyes and cold sweat chilled my chest. The remnants of a gut-wrenching nightmare receded, leaving behind impressions of blood and anguish and terror. I pulled in breath after breath until my heart slowed its rapid thumping.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I dragged myself out of the bed. My raven-attack wounds burned when I moved and the satiny fabric of my nightie brushed across the deep scrapes and punctures. I chose my softest cotton bra, but it still chafed. After dressing, I got a bowl of cereal and sat cross-legged on the sofa munching on the whole wheat biscuits. The glaze of frosting didn't fool my taste buds. They longed for more of Nevan's sinfully succulent offerings.
Oh crap. I stopped mid chew. I'd eaten his food, without balking, without thinking. Calm down, if it was poisoned, you'd be dead. Sure, but what if the food was cursed or enchanted or whatever? I might be magically bound to do his bidding.
If that were true, why had he left last night? He would've stuck around to play with his new toy. Maybe… the food was just food. Which implied he cared about my well-being. Why else bring me dinner and insist I eat it? He kept saying he shouldn't have been here with me, he shouldn't have told me anything, and yet he came back.
Even supernatural men had a knack for confusing me.
I finished my breakfast and drove to the shop. This was Thursday, my day off, but I needed to check out the crime scene again. If Travis found out about this, he'd laugh at me and tell me there was no crime scene, then handcuff me for the hell of it. Big mystery why I couldn't stand him.
A man had died. I witnessed the result of the foul play. If the sheriff wouldn't investigate, I would.
Stan's Toyota was tucked behind the shop, in his private parking area. I stowed my Malibu in the far corner of the gravel lot, under a sprawling pine with sagging branches that shielded my car. Nobody liked to park there, so I wouldn't be taking up a space a tourist might want. The morning was relatively cool, considering the heatwave, but humidity made the air sticky on my skin.
As I slunk across the parking lot and through the rock garden, I heard the hollow metallic rattling of Stan opening up the big front doors. Upping my pace, I hurried down the trail through the woods. Sweat dribbled down my chest to sear my wounds. I stopped at the healing vortex and perched on one of the stone benches. I might've been delaying because the thought of the blood stain, and what it signified, shivered
dread through me. When had I become a coward?
I dug a wadded-up tissue from my jeans pocket. Lifting the neck of my T-shirt with my thumb and forefinger, I dabbed at the sweat on my chest, careful to avoid my wounds. The antibiotic ointment I'd applied to them last night didn't seem to do much.
Warmth suffused my breasts where the raven had punctured me, spiraling out into the rest of my body. I gulped air and the warmth infused my lungs. I slapped my palms on the rock beneath me, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness. The woods twirled around me, yet the sensation sweeping through my body soothed me. The dizziness abated with a suddenness that left me slumped on the bench, breathless.
My wounds no longer stung. I palpated my breasts but no pain ensued. I snagged the hem of my shirt and whipped the fabric up to expose my chest. An iron fist hardened in my gut, heavy and cold.
The wounds were gone. Healed, as if they'd never existed.
I sat motionless for a moment, staring into space. The healing vortex was real. Why that revelation hit me so hard, after everything I'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours, mystified me. I just couldn't acclimate to this new world, or rather, this new version of the same old world.
Wake up, you're on a mission, remember? Right. My investigative mission. With a cleansing exhalation, I pushed up off the bench and headed for the crime scene.
The blood stain came into view. My throat tightened and my step faltered, but I kept my footsteps on a trajectory for the crime scene. My brain superimposed a vision of the body over the vacant dirt plot punctuated by the dark stain. I knelt beside the blood. The dried puddle seemed smaller than yesterday, or else my memory inflated its original size.
Christ. A man had died here.
Scanning the area, I spotted no signs of a struggle. Yeah, like I was a forensics expert. I had to try. I tiptoed over to the railing along the pool at the base of the falls. Though I searched the ground for any clues, nothing popped out. None of the rocks near the railing bore any blood stains and the railing itself was intact. If the man had fallen and hit his head on the railing or the rocks, surely a sign would remain. There was nothing.