Caleb (29 page)

He
saw their relationship as a new beginning. For a man who’d lost everything,
rebuilt his life, and then lost it all again, that was huge. “I’m different
enough, thank you very much.”

His
thumb stroked her jawline, and the shake of his head negated her stab at humor.
“There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.”

“Only
you would say that.”

The
corner of his mouth lifted. The warmth of his touch spread deeper. “Only you
would think that.”

She
shook her head. She was a perfectly normal woman. “Nuh uh.”

The
other corner of his mouth joined the first. His lids lowered and the sexy grin
shot straight to her core, adding the pang of desire to the hunger churning
inside. His thumb came to rest on the pulse point just under her jaw. “How
about we let Jared take care of those feathers, and then I’ll take you upstairs
and work on proving it.”

The
suggestion sucked her mouth dry.

“I’m
willing to do my part.” Jared squatted beside her. His calloused hand cupped
her cheek, strong like Caleb’s but without the heat. “Look at me, Allie.”

She
did for the simple reason that she couldn’t do anything else beneath his
compulsion. In his hazel irises the swirls gathered, took shape, highlighting
the intriguing flecks of blue and green. The deeper she stared, the more she
knew she should understand what she was seeing.

“Focus.”

The
order swirled around her in a hollow echo, tugging at her will from all
directions. Jared’s eyes flared with silver lights, so different from Caleb’s.
She reached up and grabbed for his wrist. She didn’t like this.

Caleb
caught her hand and folded her fingers in his. “Trust him, baby.”

Easy
for him to say. He wasn’t the one feeling like his mind was being tossed out
into a black ocean of nothingness.

“Not
nothingness, Allie.” The words skimmed the surface of her conscious.

“No.”
She fumbled along the waves blindly, swimming toward Caleb’s voice. It wasn’t
nothingness.

“Find
the pattern,” Jared ordered, his voice resounding like thunder in her head.

Pattern?
There was supposed to be a pattern in this? She didn’t see any pattern, just an
overwhelming darkness and disjointed waves of energy that threw her about,
shoving her toward the center of the darkness that locked on her like a winch,
pulling her in. Panic clawed at her mind. She didn’t want to go there.

Breathe
.

Caleb’s
strength flowed through the chaos, a solid ribbon of energy. She grabbed hold,
clung to what she couldn’t see, refused to let go, searched for that “something
more” that waited just beyond her mind’s eye. The foreign pull kicked up its
power, endangering her grip. She fought it and fought Caleb’s efforts to slip
free. She didn’t want to be alone in this.

Try
.

She
could feel him letting go.
No!

It
was too late. Caleb let go and she had no choice. She was on her own. Panic and
determination warred for dominance. Determination won. She could do this. She
would do this. She shoved at the curtain in her mind. There. In a corner of the
impenetrable blackness, a fleck of gray. She dove toward it, focusing, pushing,
fighting, gathering strength from the energy around her. With a suddenness that
left her gasping, the blackness winked away. Once again she was in the kitchen,
her fingers wrapped tightly around Caleb’s. Jared’s hands still cupped her
face. His eyes, narrowed and serious, studied her face. His lips parted and one
word breathed into the room. “Impressive.”

“Very,”
Caleb agreed.

Slade
asked the question she wanted to ask. “What?”

“She
broke Jared’s hold,” Caleb explained.

“Damn!”

The
awe in Jace’s and Slade’s “Damn” was freakier than the actual experience. If
she hadn’t already been pressed tightly to Caleb’s chest she might have reached
for him.

“Anyone
ever done that before, Jared?” Caleb asked.

“No.”
Jared’s gaze searched hers with a clinical assessment that only added to her
nervousness.

“Are
the feathers gone?” she asked.

She
reached up to see. Jared’s hand blocked hers, bringing it back to her side.

“Picture
them gone, Allie,” Caleb directed.

“I’ve
already tried that.” She sighed. Jared let go of her hand. “About a hundred
times.”

“Let’s
make it a hundred and one.”

“Fine.
But it’s not going to make a difference.” She was a total flop at this.

“Humor
me.”

Closing
her eyes, she did as Caleb asked, not expecting anything, but there was a soft
tingle and then . . . she knew. She kept her eyes closed and squeezed Caleb’s
hand, excitement building. “They’re gone, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

The
joy burst inside. She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Caleb. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, running her tongue over his lips
when his didn’t immediately part, nibbling at the bottom until he gave in. With
a groan, he took over, kissing her deep and hot, sharing her joy, giving it
back to her along with passion and . . . desperation?

Frowning,
she drew back. A glance around showed none of the men were smiling. All of them
looked as if the grim reaper was knocking at the door. Of them all, Caleb
looked the grim mest. His green eyes were dark, gold lights swirling slowly in
the depths, belying the gentleness of his touch and the happiness of the
moment.

His
lids flickered. Anxiety gathered in her stomach, squelching the excitement,
joining the roll of pain from her hunger. “Why don’t you look happy? I did it
right.”

Jared
put his hand on her shoulder, the way people do when imparting bad news.
“Because we just figured out what your gift is.”

This
was so not going to be good. “What?”

Slade
delivered the news. “You’re an empath.”

Caleb
finished it. “Who drains energy.”

SHE’D
so been hoping for something with a bit more pizzazz. Something more
interesting. Something sexier. “That’s it? I’m a parasitic empath?”

Deep
and low and even—too even—Caleb’s drawl rolled over her. “Yes.”

“Well,
hell.” She dropped back against his chest.

“There’s
nothing wrong with being empathetic.”

“It’s
wussy and—”

“Womanly
and sexy,” Caleb finished for her.

She
rolled her eyes. “I was hoping for something leaning more toward the Lara Croft
end of the skill scale.”

Jace
snorted. “I don’t think Caleb’s heart could survive that.”

She
did her best to ignore the rising nausea and the needle of panic piercing her
core. “How can feeling other people’s emotions be dangerous?” It sounded about
as boring as mud to her.

“Empathy
is not dangerous, but the ability to drain the energy of the person feeling the
emotion . . .” If Caleb’s body language had echoed the calm in his drawl, she
might have been able to still her growing sense of dread, but he held her too
tightly, his body curved too protectively around hers.

“That’s
a whole different story, isn’t it?”

“That
might make you a weapon.”

“Depending
on?”

“Depending
on whether there are limits to how much you can draw,” Slade answered.

“So,
someone might be stalking me because I’m female, because I’m fertile, or
because I’m a potential weapon?”

“Pretty
much.”

She
glared at Jared. “I hate when you say that.”

“I’ll
keep it in mind.”

“Do
you think it’s the other vamps?”

“Hell.”
Jared scooped the pile of crumbs that had been one of her bear claws into his
hand. “No way would the high and mighty be up to something like that.”

“Who
are the high and mighty?”

He
got up and dumped them in the trash can. “The Order of Vampire. Members of the
Sanctuary.” The way he said “Sanctuary” contained more scorn than she reserved
for big hairy spiders.

“Run
by me again who they are?”

“A
bunch of rule-mongering, think-too-highly-of-themselves vamps who got together
and put themselves in charge of deciding what’s right for vampires everywhere.”

“Right
in what sense?”

“Whatever
sense they deem fit.”

She
slipped off Caleb’s lap, restless energy and the growing hunger driving her to
pace. “They sound charming.”

“Oh,
they are.”

“Couple
hundred years ago, they invited us into the fold,” Caleb informed her as he watched
her every move, no doubt cataloging every nuance of emotion she revealed.

She
folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t appreciate the invitation?”

One
short shake of his head said it all. “Not a group I want to hitch my team to.”

She
rubbed her arms against the chill that crept over her skin. “Why not?”

“Too
much philosophy and too little sense.”

“There
was also that set-to Jace had with the head honcho’s brother the one and only
time we went calling,” Slade interjected dryly.

“Hey,
the guy took my smoke.”

There
had to be more to the story than that. “And?”

Slade
leaned back in his chair. The protesting squeak added to the strange tension in
the room. “At the time, Jace was real fond of his smokes.”

“And?”

“They
took offense.”

This
was like pulling teeth. “And?”

“There
was a fight.”

She
could easily see that. Just the memory had Caleb flexing his fingers. “And you
lost?”

“It’d
take more than those pantywaists to kick the Johnson brothers’ butts,” Jace
retorted.

She
took a breath as a cramp seized her gut. “So you won?”

“Yup.”

Pain
strained her voice. “And your reward was?”

“Turns
out that honcho was real touchy about his brother’s pretty face getting
rearranged.” Caleb shrugged those broad shoulders in a way that clearly said
the Sanctuary’s reprisal didn’t matter. “We got exiled.”

The
next cramp bent her double. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” she gasped.

No
one answered.

Which
also didn’t surprise her. The Johnson brothers had gone to war with an
established society and won the battle, but lost the war, and didn’t see that
as a negative. Either the Johnsons were contrary beyond belief, or the members
of the Sanctuary were too different to relate to.

She
reached out. Caleb’s hand encompassed hers, always there. His arm went around
her waist, supporting her. His fingers stretched to cover as much as her
abdomen as he could. Pain speared deep, stronger than she’d ever felt before,
more violent. There was something about it she should question, a difference
that disturbed her. Before she could center on the difference, another bolt of
agony struck, driving up her spine, lodging in her skull. “Caleb!”

“Right
here.”

She
clutched his hand, her talons digging in. Desperation commanded she hold on as
tightly as she could. “I need you.”

Her
knees buckled. Curses peppered the growing haze around her, as violent as the
foreign presence spreading inside. Malevolent, relentless, it prowled mental
paths she didn’t even know existed, riding the battering ram of pain deeper
into her psyche. The scent of blood melded into the moment.

“Feed,
Allie.”

She
shook her head. She didn’t want food. She needed . . . “Jared?”

“What
is it?”

She
had to tell Jared. He was the telepath. He’d know what to do. The pain gathered
in a knot in her throat, choking off her voice.

“Goddamn
it, Allie, feed now, chat later,” Caleb growled.

She
shook her head, the pain intensifying as she struggled for coherence.
“Something’s wrong.”

His
hands stilled and all that muscle tightened to lethal preparedness. “What?”

“It’s
after me.”

She
had an impression of green eyes flaring with deadly anger, the brush of Caleb’s
mind over hers, and then a soft imperative, “Jared.”

“Right
here.”

“Get
in there.”

Hard
hands touched her, as irritating as Caleb’s were comforting. She flinched away.

“Just
focus on me, baby. I’ve got you.”

“It’s
gross.” The feeling of that presence was foul and slimy, as though a grub
crawled through her mind. A tendril of pain snaked around her vocal cords,
choking them closed, continuing to squeeze, taking her breath. Caleb stretched
her neck, trying to open a path for air that wouldn’t come.