Accept the images. Tell me what they mean.
Focusing inward, she studied the visualization. Suddenly the image expanded and she stood on the riverbank. Thick grass tickled her bare feet and her gauzy dress billowed in the warm breeze.
“Very good.” Blayne appeared beside her, naked except for his jeans.
“The river is time.” She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was certain of the fact. “That side flows into the past.” She pointed to her left. “And that side flows into the future.” She indicated the opposite direction.
“What else do you see or sense?”
The past appeared polluted and she could barely detect a current. “The past looks like toxic waste.”
He smiled. “And the future? What do you notice about that side?”
“It’s blocked; hardly any water is getting through.”
“Very good.” He turned toward her and brushed his fingers down the side of her face. “Release the image. That’s enough for now.”
The visualization faded and she was astride his hips again. His hands rested on her hips, but her nipples were still tender. “Drakkin hasn’t released the temporal element of my gift yet, so why can I sense it so strongly?”
He scooted back, sitting up against the headboard. She tried to crawl off his lap, but his hands tightened on her hips. Their faces were much closer now, her eyes nearly on a level with his. “Ordinary farseers connect with another person’s mind. It allows them to view events from someone else’s perspective. The gift is closely related to telepathy.”
“My gift isn’t ‘ordinary’?”
“Far from it. Temporal farseers are more closely related to prophets. Once you’re able to manipulate time strands, you will be able to view events that took place in the past and anticipate events that could take place in the future.”
“My gift is more accurate with past events?” She placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted more of her weight to his thighs.
“That’s not a limitation of your gift. It’s a fact of our reality. Past events can’t be changed. They’ve already happened. Besides you don’t actually go into the past. You’re only viewing a visual record of what took place. Future events, on the other hand, often change according to what takes place in the present.”
“So when I look into the future, I’ll only see one possible outcome of present events?”
“Exactly.”
She rubbed her eyes and swayed toward him, suddenly incredibly weak.
“You need to rest, maybe sleep for an hour or two.”
“But we’re just getting to the good stuff. I want to see what I can do.”
He wrapped his arms around her and twisted to the side, laying her back across the bed. “Rest. If we push too hard, you’ll end up sick and that won’t benefit anyone.” He scooted off the side of the bed, leaving her alone on the mattress.
She sat up and pulled down the covers then slipped beneath with a dreamy smile. “After my nap, can we pick up where we left off?”
He just returned her smile and said, “Go to sleep.” Then he turned off the light and walked into the outer room.
Too fatigued to argue, she fluffed one of the pillows and curled up on her side. The past two days had felt like she stumbled into someone else’s life. Spending the night in a police station should have been shocking, but it paled in comparison to the events that followed. How was she supposed to make logical decisions when nothing around her was logical? She’d always been good at going with the flow. Her life was frequently less than stable. Still, alien worlds and temporal farseeing were a little much for her to process.
And then there was Blayne. Gorgeous, unflappable Blayne. He stirred feelings in her she hadn’t imagined feeling, elemental longings that she’d heard described but had never experienced before. He was shrewdly intelligent and unbelievably powerful and yet he seemed to take it all in stride. He manipulated magic with casual assurance that both soothed and intimidated. He’d been born into a world where magic was common and he’d received years of formal training. Of course he was better at this than she was; things would be really screwed up if he weren’t.
She sighed and rolled to her stomach. Her body ached in places she didn’t want to think about. She was exhausted, but her brain continued to spin, reliving everything that had happened without providing any helpful conclusions. She was out of her element, completely at the mercy of people she didn’t know.
You know Blayne, her inner voice argued. You’ve sensed his emotions and interacted with his true self. It was hard to argue with that. Their empathic connection gave her a unique perspective. And you know Aria. Stop being melodramatic.
The criticism made her smile as fatigue won out and she finally drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
A shrill scream snapped Blayne out of his meditative trance. For one helpless moment he was disoriented, unsure if it had been hours or minutes since his trance began. A second cry, softer yet more hopeless than the first, catapulted him into action. He flew across the sitting room and rushed into Angie’s bedroom. She tossed upon the mattress, covers tangled around her legs.
Do you need assistance? Drakkin asked.
No, sir. It’s just a nightmare.
All right. I’m here if you change your mind.
Blayne sat on the bed and lightly touched Angie’s shoulder. She continued to toss, oblivious to his presence. “Angie. You need to wake up now.”
She jerked away from his hand, a plaintive cry escaping from deep inside her.
Concern tightened his chest so he crawled onto the bed and grasped her shoulders with both hands. “Angie.” His tone was sharper, more insistent. “Open your eyes, love. You’re safe.”
She arched away from him, lashing out blindly with one hand.
Unwilling to let her torment continue, he pushed into her mind. Terror blasted through his being, momentarily robbing him of breath. He forced himself to move, to find her and guide her out. His reality was shaped by her perception, bending and twisting like warped mirrors. He flowed deeper into her mind and used the transfer conduit to penetrate her mental shields.
He came to the river, shocked by the changes he found there. The future stream was dry as if all of her energy had been sucked back into the past. Terrified of the implication, he dove into the seething water, repulsed by the stench and oily feel, yet determined to find her.
The current strengthened, sweeping him along. Another cry, louder this time, assured him he was headed in the right direction. He raised his head and looked around, inwardly cringing at his surroundings. The images were torn and distorted, yet menace emanated from every shape, every shadow.
He spotted her on the riverbank and struggled free of the murky water. The stench of fear and degradation clung to his skin. She writhed in the grass, naked and trembling. Her torso twisted and her back arched, yet her limbs remained unmoved. Was someone holding her down?
Sitting beside her, he tried to pull her into his lap. Her body wouldn’t budge. Her screams became guttural moans that sent dread twisting through his being.
“Angie, this isn’t real. Let go of the memory.” He stroked her hair back from her face, keeping his touch light and gentle. “You’re safe now. No one will harm you as long as I’m here.”
She stilled, lying spread-eagled in the grass. Her skin was pale and clammy, her lips gradually turning blue.
Not knowing what else to do, he sent a pulse of energy into her mind. “You’re dreaming, love. You need to wake up.”
Her lashes fluttered and she whimpered, tears escaping from beneath her lashes. “Don’t…” She turned away from him, pulling her knees up toward her chest. “Go away.”
“Wake up. If you still want me gone, I’ll leave.” It was a lie. He had no intention of leaving her side. But he could disperse his physical body and make her think he’d kept his word.
Her image wavered then disappeared. He quickly followed her out.
She was lyi
ng as she’d been in the visualization, curled up on her side with her back to him.
He carefully touched her shoulder than ran his hand down her arm. “Are you all right?”
“You have no right to spy on me. That wasn’t okay.”
“I only entered your mind when I couldn’t rouse you. How often do you have these nightmares?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Blayne sighed. Drakkin had warned him that he would need to push her if they ever hoped to heal her past. It wasn’t his nature to intentionally cause pain—unless the person deserved the discomfort. Angie definitely didn’t deserve more pain.
Ignoring her struggles, he pulled her into his lap and cradled her against his chest. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around him. All right. They’d compromise. She could avoid his gaze, but she wasn’t going to avoid the cause of her fear.
“Burying the pain has caused the wound to fester. Do you understand what the river was showing you?”
“I’m not stupid,” she snapped. “My imagination isn’t subtle.”
Her gift had delivered the cautionary images, not her imagination. However, the detail wasn’t important enough to correct. “Have you ever told anyone what happened?”
“No.”
The fact that she’d answered at all gave him hope. “Not even Tori?”
“No.”
They all suspected the abuse had been sexual. Such an attack explained many of her personality traits. There was no way to ease into something so horrible, so he just asked, “Were you raped?” Her entire body tensed and he had his answer. Fury surged through him, but tenderness drove it back. He couldn’t allow his reaction to her past to hinder her recovery. He had to stay calm and focus entirely on her. “Did you know your attacker?”
“I’m not going to talk about this.” She pushed away from his chest and tried to squirm off his lap.
He grasped her arms, but kept her upright, not wanting to mimic the helpless position he’d found her in beside the river. “You’ll never move beyond the pain until you acknowledge what happened.”
“The past can’t be changed.” She glared into his eyes. “You said so yourself.”
He ignored the argument. “When did it happen?”
Emotion swelled inside her, spilling across their empathic link. Her chin quivered and tears gathered behind her thick lashes. “I went a little crazy after Mom died. One night I went looking for trouble and found it. There! Are you happy? I got what I deserved. No harm, no foul.” She wrested her arms out of his grasp and scrambled off the bed.
He wasn’t sure if he should follow her and his indecision gave her time to lock herself in the bathroom.
Though muffled, he easily made out the sound of her sobs. “Damn it.” He crawled off the bed and crossed to the bathroom. The door was locked, so he teleported inside.
She’d lodged herself into the corner between the stool and bathtub. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, her arms folded on top of her knees. Her forehead rested on her folded arms and harsh sobs shook her entire body.
Never feeling more helpless in his life, he knelt in front of her and stroked her hair. “It was not your fault.”
“It was.” She didn’t raise her head and her voice was barely intelligible. “I encouraged them. They only took what I offered.”
Them. They. The words echoed through his mind as anguish tore through his soul.
Unable to leave her alone in her misery, he pulled her forward then swept her into his arms. Rather than return to the bed, he carried her into the common room and sat in one of the armchairs. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to find words able to soothe her. He just held her, supporting her as she cried.
She clung to him, trembling violently as her tears wet his chest. “I was flirting,” she whispered against his skin. “I always flirt.”
He didn’t rush her. She needed to find the words, to fight her way back from the dark. He stoked her hair and held her close, making sure she understood she wasn’t alone.
“It was a contest,” she went on. “They kept arguing about who I’d sleep with and I was enjoying the attention.”
He focused on his breathing, afraid she’d sense the rage building inside him. Each word she uttered revealed her shame, which only made him angrier.
“We kept drinking and one said I didn’t have to decide; they’d just take turns. Then it wasn’t who’d get me, it was who’d get me first.” An especially harsh sob shook her shoulders and she was silent for a long time.
It’ll be all right. The useless phrase formed within his mind, but he couldn’t force the words past his lips. It sounded hollow and insincere. She deserved better, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“It turned ugly so fast. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. But that didn’t keep me from feeling every touch, every…” Her voice broke and she was sobbing too hard to go on.
The details didn’t matter, but her shame did. He rocked her until her sobs slowed and then gently raised her head. “It was not your fault. Flirting with someone does not give them the right to take what they want from you.”
“But I—”
“No buts. You might have been unwise, even reckless, but you did not deserve what happened to you.”
Her lips trembled and tears trailed down her cheeks, but she didn’t argue.
“Tori said you were missing for a week. Were you with them all that time?”
“No.” She shuddered, clearly repulsed by the idea. “I wasn’t going to go home, but I had nowhere else to go.”
That surprised him. She seemed close to her sister now. They’d both been grieving their mother. Why wouldn’t she have wanted to go home?
Apparently the question showed in his expression, because she replied, “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I tried to clean up, but…the more I fought the more violent they became. I couldn’t wash away the bruises.”
Not wanting her to misinterpret the fury burning in his gaze, he averted his face and pulled her back against his chest. “Did you know them?” What he really wanted to ask was if she knew where to find them. Such cowardly abuse demanded retaliation.
She shook her head. “They were just some guys at a party.”
“They were monsters who abused a helpless female. They are beneath contempt.” The only way to explore the event meant exposing her to the memories. The possibility of revenge wasn’t worth dragging her back into hell. He’d either find another way of identifying the animals or he’d reluctantly let it go and focus on her recovery.
She pushed back far enough to look into his eyes. “This is part of the reason I never told anyone.” A wary sadness crept into her gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want it to ruin anyone else’s life. If I’d told Tori, she would have spent the next ten years hunting them down.”
He concurred with the strategy. “Don’t you want them held accountable for what they did?”
“It was as much my fault as—”
“No it wasn’t!” He hadn’t meant to snap at her. His emotions were just too raw. “You were a traumatized child looking for comfort and they abused you in the worst way imaginable.”
“I wasn’t a child. I went to that party knowing I’d hook up with someone. Things just got out of control.”
He didn’t want to take out his frustration on her, but she wasn’t making it easy to remain calm. “How old were you?”
She looked away and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I was on my own a lot, so I grew up fast.”
“I’ll ask Tori.”
“I was fifteen. All right? Can we drop the subject now?”
It was worse than he’d thought. He clenched his hands to keep from shaking her. How could she hold herself responsible for any of it? She was so damn young. Rather than repeat his objections, he stood, lifting her against his chest as he went.
He returned to the bedroom and placed h
er on the bed then crawled in beside her. Much to his relief, she snuggled up against his side and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Promise me you’ll leave this alone.” She pushed up with her elbow when he didn’t reply. “I will not be defined by this. It happened and it’s over. End of story.”
He wouldn’t give her a promise he had no intention of keeping, so he evaded the issue. “You’re all I care about. I’ll do whatever’s best for you.”
Her brows drew together as she stared into his eyes. “That wasn’t a promise.”
“My promises are sacred. I don’t give them lightly. I will investigate those bastards. Honor demands it. But I will not allow the issue to consume me or to distract me from helping you. You are, and will always be, my first concern.”
The compromise seemed to satisfy her. She relaxed and returned to her earlier position.
Knowing she couldn’t see his face, Blayne indulged in a fierce scowl. Ontarians had no tolerance for the mistreatment of females. One way or another, regardless of how long it took, Angie’s abusers would pay for what they’d done to her.
Chapter Six
Angie woke up alone the following morning. Blayne’s scent lingered in the air, so he couldn’t have been gone long. She quickly showered and slipped into one of the dresses Aria had given her. The style was simple, the gauzy skirt falling in soft pleats from a wide waistband. It was nothing she ever would have chosen for herself, but she was grateful for the clean outfit. Aria had provided slip-on shoes as well, but they were too small, which left Angie no choice but to wear her low-heeled motorcycle boots with the dress. The rebellious quirk made her feel more herself as she left the suite and headed downstairs.
She enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with Aria, the conversation light and amusing. The servants had just cleared the table when Blayne walked into the dining room.
“We should probably return to training, if you’ve finished your meal.” He sounded stiff and professional.
Aria shot her a curious look, apparently noticing his formality.
Angie pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m done.” She smiled at Aria. “I’ll see you later.”
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