Touch of Danger (Three Worlds)

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Touch of Danger (Three Worlds) Page 13

by Strickland, Carol A.


  Lina eased herself up into a sitting position and brushed sand from her hair with her hand. “I know people who do, but they turn poor clients away. I mean, they have to make a living, they have to get paid. But to me it’s like donating blood. Some people give blood to get paid, and I just can’t imagine doing that. You give blood, you do psychic work, because it’s your duty as a human being.”

  She blushed, realizing that she probably sounded sanctimonious. “It’s too bad that mortgage companies and grocery stores don’t barter for psychic readings. If clients pay, that’s great, but if they can’t you do the work anyway.”

  “It still seems to me like you could be wasting your time at your day job,” Londo told her gently. “If—When we get out of this, I’m telling the Paranorm Network about you. They’ll want you to perform a demonstration or two. All this could be very useful. Maybe they’d put you on the payroll.”

  She sniffed. “Of course they will. Y’know, Londo, for being Valiant, you seem to be very easily impressed.”

  “Y’know, Lina,” Londo retorted, “you’d better check in a mirror before you start telling other people what’s wrong with them.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said to keep the peace. She turned to settle onto her stomach, protected by the tall, blowing grasses from view of the mercenaries as she pointed at the beach with her chin. “Now where do you think we need to be when all hell breaks loose? If indeed it does? Storm devas can change their minds pretty quickly.”

  “How reassuring. D’accord, we want to come out up there...” Lon leaned over her and pointed so she saw the same target he did. She nodded. He traced the route, following just behind the line of breakers, to a point below them. If the storm suddenly slackened or didn’t arrive as planned, he made a contingency plan for them to head far out into the bay and try to make it across.

  “And we’re going to hold hands the whole way,” he told her firmly. “We’re not going to lose each other in crazy storm currents. I don’t want to hear any arguments about touching.”

  She agreed.

  A sudden blast of wind bore down on the island from the east, sweeping the trees in front of it in mighty bows.

  “Storm outflow,” Lina said. “It’ll be here in minutes.” She pulled on Lon’s shirt.

  “I’ll carry the pack,” Londo said as he stuffed their booty into it. Wrapping the rifle in the plastic, he then threaded it through the top of the pack.

  “It’ll still get wet,” Lina said.

  “Probably. Guns can withstand a little water.”

  Lina helped him put the loaded pack on his back.

  “Keep low,” Londo said.

  They scrambled down the bluff to the beach. An outcropping of black rock lay between them and the mercenaries.

  Lina considered the route. It still seemed awfully long. During a storm those waves would get worse. Already whitecaps frothed in the bay; seagulls shrieked as they hurried to shelter. She glanced at Londo. Damned if she was going to let him get hurt again. He didn’t have any idea how much stamina he had as a normal human now, and the day had been a hard one already. She’d have to keep an eye out for him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid out there.

  “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he faced the bay. “I’ve been through a helluva lot worse than this.”

  “But not as a norm,” Lina reminded him. “Just remember your limits now. Don’t try to push yourself, because you won’t make it if you do.”

  “Lina.”

  She glanced up at him expectantly.

  “Shut up.” He kissed her hard. “For luck.”

  With a sudden crash of thunder, the sky turned black, just like that. Lina had never in her life seen such a thing! It was like tales of dark magick, a malevolent, blanketing spell—

  “This is the tropics,” Lon said. “Storms work like this here.”

  Rain fell in hard sheets to the ground and the mercenaries ran to their tents. The force of the rain kept them from seeing much beyond where they were.

  It did the same for Lon and Lina. “That’s our signal,” Londo said. “Allons-y! Go!” He pulled her after him into the wilding surf and they dragged themselves out beyond the breakers. They swam as best they could, but often had to stop and bob their way across. Lightning split the skies everywhere but directly over the bay.

  The struggle proceeded slowly. The sea would yank at their feet, and they’d hold onto one another as if two people could really fight the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes a rogue wash of incredibly cold water swept in from nowhere only to vanish again. An eon passed as the storm roiled overhead and they hadn’t reached shore yet.

  “Just a... just a little more to go,” Londo shouted in her ear so she could hear him over the din. The ocean dragged at them, so low down. Lina lost her footing for a moment and then found it again before she could be pulled under. She pointed behind them: a huge wave rolling up, foaming already this far out from shore.

  “Ride it as much as you can,” she shouted back, “but we’re going under that.” She grabbed Lon’s hand tightly and then pushed off in the trough right before the wave, sucking as much oxygen into her as she could. Of everything having to do with the ocean, she hated going under waves the most. She felt so mortal, so ineffectual in the grasp of primal forces.

  Lina rose with the wave, but it was breaking above her with a roar. There was only time for one final gasp of air before it hit and knocked her sideways. Londo hadn’t risen as far in the wave as she had. He was below her, and their grip on each other faltered.

  **Londo, hang on. I’m just below the surface.**

  **No, I am.**

  **No, you’re below me.** As the wave surged past her, she tried to grab his arm and pull him up. His fingers slipped. **Londo!**

  He was gone.

  Pounding panic amped his thoughts. **Jesus! I’m caught in some kind of current!**

  **Just hold your breath. If you touch bottom, kick off. Swim sideways to the shore. I’ll find you.**

  **Ow! I think I’m sideways to the bottom.**

  **There’ll be another good-sized wave to counteract the current,** she assured him as she tried to remember every iota of rip current safety she’d ever heard. **Stay calm. Remember that the bubbles from your breath will show you which way is up.**

  She could feel claustrophobia pressing in on him. His panic was too infectious. Lina couldn’t think through it as the world began to dissolve into an unbeatable, all-crushing, end hand of Destiny.

  Goals.

  She pushed the panic away from herself. Goal A: rescue Londo. Keep him breathing at least. From there she’d figure out B and C.

  **Kick off the bottom,** she repeated. **Get your head above the water. I’ll see you when you hit the surface.**

  **I’m trying, dammit.** His thoughts drained her with their exhaustion. **There.**

  She felt him emerge, take a breath and cough, breathe and cough. Where? Good lord, he was clear out there.

  **I’m coming!** she told him. **I see you now. Just tread water!**

  Lina swam her hardest. All the waves rose up tall and angry, breaking farther into shore now that the storm was lasting so long. They broke over her head, driving her back even as she tried to move forward. But she wasn’t afraid of them anymore. Fury boiled in her for them being in her path, and she battled her way through. They were between her and Londo, so she kept going.

  She lost sight of him. **Where are you?**

  Coughing. “Here!” His head bobbed to the surface, peering around for her. He looked so wretchedly weary!

  Finally Lina reached him. She supported him in the waves as he couldn’t stop coughing. “If you’re going to be a norm for a while, you should know: we don’t breathe water well,” she chided gently.

  “I’ll remember that,” he said between spells. “Where are we?”

  Lina pointed through the black torrent toward what she thought was the shore. A huge flash o
f lightning illuminated it for them. **Thanks,** she told the storm deva, just in case he’d done it on purpose.

  “Good. Not far,” Londo choked. They made their way now slowly and carefully, not attempting any speed records, as the storm churned on. Londo had to stop a couple times to lean on Lina to catch his breath. His progress took on a doggedness based on determination instead of strength.

  Lina began to fall behind, but he pulled her along. “You can do it,” he assured her. They fought outflow currents right up to the beach. Lon had to talk Lina into not collapsing right then and there, but to make it to the rocks instead. When they’d reached the side away from the sheltered mercenaries, she fell to her knees. He sat heavily beside her.

  Just as suddenly as it had started, the rain slackened and then almost disappeared, sprinkling for a few final minutes. The clouds streamed out over the western edge of the island.

  “Jesus, that was rough,” Londo muttered. He looked at the sky. “Thank you, deva,” he said with a weak wave and added for Lina, “Just being polite.”

  She helped him shrug off the backpack and soggy rifle. He lay back on the sand and held out his hand for Lina to take. “I’m going to take a little nap right now,” he announced through his exhaustion. “Seems I don’t have as much energy as I usually do.”

  He pulled her down next to him and wrapped his arms around her. “We can keep up the training while we sleep, though. Feel me touch you, chérie,” he murmured, snuggling up to her. He fell asleep almost instantly, and she gazed at his head there next to her neck, the tousled, almost black hair already starting to dry as the lowering sun broke through the retreating storm.

  C’mon, Lina, she told herself firmly. We’ve got to get it together for him. I’m not afraid of him. No, affirmations should be positive. I feel safe around Londo. That’s it. I trust Londo. She paused in her thoughts and added another affirmation. It’s okay to feel passion toward Londo. She repeated the affirmations until she, too, fell asleep in his arms.

  She woke when he stirred. Purple twilight now swathed the sky and gentled the surf. Lina’s shirt and gown were still damp from contact with the sand and Londo.

  For a few minutes she lay studying him, so warmly handsome. Strong lines of his face and body added to his aura of masculine confidence. Relaxed like this, the slight signature scowl disappeared to reveal a youthful, innocent smoothness of brow.

  His open vest displayed that powerful chest. Deeply tanned and glistening with ocean salt, it rose and fell as he slept. Washboard muscles on his stomach echoed the powerful knots that defined his arms. Those faux-leather pants showed off long, strong legs as well as an area Lina was embarrassed to catch herself studying.

  This man wasn’t Valiant now, not the ParaNetter she’d seen on television lifting trucks with ease, flying through the air, bracing himself against spectacular attacks. Powerless, but for how long? Unfathomably frustrated all his life.

  After his powers returned, he’d be frustrated again—and gone. She’d never see him again. It was just a fluke that she was the available woman while he was like this.

  They wouldn’t fool themselves if they went through with this intimacy. Of course Lon would be sensible enough not to get emotionally involved. Lina could keep a firm picture of Afterward in her mind and protect her heart.

  Always hide her heart. Always keep it untouched—that was the key to surviving life. She wouldn’t allow it anywhere near Londo. She could do this and come out unscathed... if she could reach down inside herself and find some guts.

  C’mon, she reprimanded herself. You’re a healthy female. Women have been doing this for millennia and liking it. This touching thing—Grow up! Get over it! You’ve got how long until he wakes up? And then you’ve got to be able to touch him, you’ve got to be able to receive his touch. At the very least, grit your teeth and think of England.

  Think of Valiant.

  When he’d been in college, the press had called him the All-Canadian boy, the guy every girl wished lived next door. He’d had that wholesome look back then that had sharpened with maturity. Nowadays he was Valiant, the warrior Rand. Protector of Earth. Fierce and commanding and sexy as hell.

  For so many years on television and so many magazine covers, he’d smiled seductively out at her: the slight, teasing twist to his mouth promising that he’d never be serious about any romantic entanglement. So many women used him for their fantasies and now here he was, needing her.

  How long will he be like this? One day in his entire life that he has this chance. You are not going to blow this for him. You are going to come through. This isn’t just a goal, it’s goal A, goal A-plus. You can do anything if you absolutely—

  She jerked away from him as she realized that she was shaking in fear, already gasping from fright. And he isn’t even touching you, she berated herself. It really is all in your head.

  Instead she hugged an outcropping of rock. She hid within the sheer inhumanity of it: nothing of it could judge her. She shared the rock’s calm immortality and imperviousness here in the deepening darkness of twilight. It anchored her as she tried a quick rebirthing, breathing out the fear, trying to cast it off as it crawled so close to the surface.

  His words still whispered in her ear, his promises of what he was going to do to her. He’d awakened something...

  She’d been alone for as long as she could remember, and this afternoon she’d been touched by another. God, she wanted that again. But how could she convince all those fears she had that they had to let up, just for the next few hours? They could come back later, but she needed them gone now. Please, God, just give us these few hours. For him, if not for me.

  She buried her face against the rock and tried to release the panic that clambered up through her from places she didn’t know she had. It was worse now than before. It seemed every fear she had clawed right below the surface of her skin, screaming at the danger of the world and of other people. She couldn’t release it. Long ago she’d sworn she’d never be vulnerable again. She hit the rock with her fist.

  “It’s only me,” Londo’s deep masculine voice said behind her. His hand touched her back and she twitched away from him.

  “I can’t do this, Londo,” Lina said. “I just can’t. Oh god, I am so sorry.”

  Silence. He began to rub her between her shoulder blades. Gently, comfortingly. She trembled under his touch.

  “I’ll never hurt you,” he finally said. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Don’t be afraid.”

  She gritted her teeth. It was so hard to express her feelings, but she needed to explain herself to him. “It’s not any of it you, Lon. It’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  “Just... just...” She struggled to admit it: “You don’t want me. I’m not worthy of anyone caring for me, especially you.”

  “Just because I’m Valiant?”

  “No, because you’re Londo. If you really knew me, you...” her voice almost disappeared, “you’d get as far away from me as you could. I’m a terrible person.”

  He kept the gentle massage going as she clung to the rock. “So terrible,” he said softly. “How?”

  “In every way.”

  “Who’s told you this?”

  “I just know it. I’m not stupid. I realize what I am.” Muttbutt. Stupidhead. Clumsy bitch. “There has got to be someone else on this island. You’ll want them.”

  “I want you, Lina.”

  In desperation and shame she wrapped herself over the rock outcropping. “No you don’t.”

  “Are you telling me who I can or can’t care for?” Lon teased. “And next you’ll be telling me what to think. Where does it end? Maybe a little mind control?”

  Lina straightened like a gunshot, whirling around to face him. “Mind control! How could you say such a thing?”

  Shock shot across his features, quickly replaced by a calming, slow smile. “But you just said that you were going to decide what I should think
.” His hands had dropped when she moved, but now he replaced them on her waist.

  “You know that’s not what I meant. No one should force their will on another. Lon, this may be a joke to you, but to a psychic, controlling someone is a very real possibility. People who fire mental hooks into— I even—”

  “You even what?” he asked curiously.

  “I almost did it once,” she whispered, still horrified at herself for ever considering it. But he had to know what kind of person she was.

  “Mind control, you?” Suddenly all business, he studied her. “Tell me.”

  She took a breath. “I was in sixth grade, and one day this big guy from the seventh grade—heck, he was probably held back, probably should have been in high school—comes looking for me to beat me up.”

  “Why?”

  “How should I know? Maybe he just liked to beat up ugly tall girls. He backed me into a corner on my way home. Suddenly I knew I could take over his mind if I wanted. I knew I could stop him that way.”

  “So what’d you do?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I let him beat me up. He did a very good job of it, too. X-rays and shots and lots of stitches.”

  “Jesus, Lie. So what happened to him?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Well, except that I got in a couple of good bites. He got his kicks and moved on to other victims. I think eventually they sent him off to military school.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits. “Your parents didn’t call the cops? Or his parents? What’d they do?”

  Shrug. “My dad yelled that I was trying to put him in the poor house with the doctor bill.”

  “He was joking.”

  “He locked me in my basement for three weeks without electricity and told me that I could make up for the extra money he had to spend on me by not having breakfast or dinner for two months.”

  “And your mother let him get away with that?”

  She gave him a faint smile. “She was the one who talked him down to only two months.”

  “Sacré—What’d you do?”

  “I snuck out, of course. I discovered the fine art of dumpster-diving. I scrounged candles and matches, too. Mom sneaked me down some food a few times.”

 

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