God's Eye (5 page)

Later, as things slowly righted themselves, her brain returned to normal functioning. Although whether that was even possible with this intense man around, Katharine was unsure.

He stayed there in her bed for an indeterminate amount of time, lying by her side, barely touching her. And Katharine refused to look at the clock. She didn’t want to time him, to know how long he waited. If he fell short, didn’t stay all night, she would be disappointed. He’d been so perfect in every other way. So the time didn’t matter.

She only knew that it wasn’t very long. Neither of them had fallen asleep when Zachary stretched and stood. He said something about getting to an early case in the morning. But Katharine knew it was all the same regardless of the excuse. She forced a smile and a nod.

Planting a kiss atop her head, he said he’d call the next day. She was unable to muster the “Yeah, right” that rang in her cynical heart right next to the fervent desire to believe. Turning away, he walked naked from her bedroom, while her libido enjoyed the view. Through the open door, which they hadn’t even taken the half-second to shut earlier, she could see him as he gathered his clothes and slid into them with a sinewy grace that belied his power.

Without turning back–maybe he didn’t know she could see him–Zachary slipped quietly out the front door. Only when she heard the lock click shut did Katharine get to her own feet, her head swimming as she tried to think logically again. But logical thought didn’t come. Only a cold flood of memories.

She circled the apartment, checking locks on windows. She checked all three bolts on the front door. Made sure everything was locked down tight. Then she sat, still naked, on the edge of the bed. It was the animals that occupied her thoughts, not the fact that she’d willingly fallen into bed with a near stranger on a first date. Somehow, that rang as perfectly normal–not like something she had never done before. But the possibility that the animals might come again scared her.

She lived on the tenth floor. If creatures got into her apartment up here, then it wasn’t through the windows. She’d seen two cats and a glimpse of a large black dog–nothing that flew or scaled buildings.

The animals, this dread–it was the one one part of her life she hadn’t handed over to Zachary wholeheartedly. It hadn’t even occurred to her. The memories of the fear had receded in his presence and only returned when he was out of her sphere.

Unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do about it. It wasn’t like the animals were dangerous, anyway. They were more of a threat to the carpet than to her. And after that encounter with Zachary, she was nearly dead on her feet. Her body cried out for sleep.

Slowly, in an attempt to calm herself, she straightened the covers and went through her routine. Methodically, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and ran her comb through her hair. She pulled on a satin sleep shirt–her only concession to the possibility of night visitors, but she didn’t admit it even to herself. Katharine checked her alarm; each morning she turned it off, then immediately reset it for the next day. It was as it should be. Then she slipped beneath the covers, pulling them up tight beneath her chin, instantly drifting off.

Hours later, she woke, her eyes blinking in the darkness that didn’t seem to recede. Still, she headed toward her bathroom. Half-asleep, she used the toilet, washed her hands, and dried them on the towel next to the sink.

When she opened the door, the wave hit her full blast. Unused to the sensation, she stood there buffeted by the feelings that came at her and pushed through her. Fury. Overlaid with despair.

And they were radiating from the corner.

Her eyes drew a sharp focus in the very thin light coming through the curtains. The back half of her room was bathed in shadow. But something sat there. Large and fathoms deep, it broadcast its feelings to her, the anger permeating the room. Katharine, for some unknown reason, perhaps anger of her own, took a step toward the creature.

The rage disappeared. Instantly, she was drenched in arctic cold, her quick gasp freezing in her lungs. Still, she took another step forward, some part of her brain demanding that she see what had invaded her space this time.

One hand came out toward her–emerging from the darkness that somehow seemed to continue beyond the borders of her bedroom. Silver claws the size of kitchen blades unfurled at the ends of its long fingers.

Terror, this time her own, smashed into every cell, and the dark in her room became timeless, spinning. Her eyes wilted shut as her vision was shot through with stars.

Allistair had already seated himself and gotten comfortable at his desk when Katharine walked into their shared office..

He’d heard her heels clicking down the length of hallway as she approached, each tap on the marble radiating outward through the air and thick rock like a ripple on a pond. Each click reverberated in him, speeding his heart a little faster with anticipation, so by the time she appeared in the open doorway, he was as tightly wound as a spring.

Her hair was pulled up and away from her face, displaying cheekbones many women would be proud to call their own. She looked like she’d managed to pull herself together after getting a glimpse of him the night before. He’d seen her faint and hadn’t been able to do anything without incarnating right there in front of her. Had she come around while he was climbing through, he would have been done for.

So he’d stood over her for a short while, seen that her breathing was even and strong, and had reluctantly left. He’d been waiting to see how she fared. From the outside it was impossible to tell–as he’d known it would be. Katharine was a master at the art of giving nothing away. If he hadn’t been able to discern the slight waves of agitation and fear that peeled and curled off her, he would have thought she didn’t remember it at all. He could see it was more like she didn’t want to.

Her movements were the same as any other day–sharp, efficient, yet somehow still feminine. She was pretty enough, not truly beautiful on the outside, but like many women she was radiant when she smiled. He wanted to be attracted to the woman inside her, but he found he was attracted more to her humanity than to what was uniquely Katharine. It seemed so much of what he saw in her was merely the result of the expectations of others. Things she had transferred into herself without truly thinking about them. She did a good job of making herself into what those around her expected her to be. Only rarely did she share glimpses of the woman he thought Katharine might truly be–the person he thought she should be. And that was exactly why he and Zachary had been dispatched for her.

She was malleable, open, gullible, and swayable.

He only prayed Zachary didn’t get to her first. But it was already looking like his rival was making headway with Katharine. Her attraction to something so completely the opposite of himself should have kept his feelings at bay. But it didn’t. Though he wanted to keep tight reins on himself, and though he should have been able to, for some reason he had no control over the baser urges he felt. He could see his own want licking out at her as she passed by his desk, barely nodding good morning. In this, at least, he seemed to be like any real mortal man.

And this was the one way in which he was supposed to be
un
like mortals. The disguise was intended to be only flesh deep. For his brethren, it was. They walked among man, in man’s skin, without man’s needs. But Allistair had always enjoyed the feelings of humanity too much. Sharp smells and sweet sounds. Pungent tastes. Visions of earth as humans see it–solid and enduring, without the turmoil from beyond the veil. Right now his body craved texture.

He could feel the fabric of his button-down shirt as it wrinkled inside his suit sleeves. The chair pressed soft against his back; his feet were held tight by his shoes. But he longed for the sweet, cool feel of Katharine’s skin against his fingers. His eyes saw her, already bent toward her computer screen, having begun her day’s work. She didn’t feel him over here, needing to run his hands and mouth along her hair. He needed to inhale her. Devour her.

He needed to not feel any of it. But it seemed he was incapable.

Forcing his features to disguise his thoughts–for he had already given in to the knowledge that he was lacking the will required to actually not think them–he got to the work that was expected of him at Light & Geryon. Still, his thoughts wandered.

Like the others at the firm, Katharine remained absolutely focused on her work, and had just as absolute a deficit about what she really accomplished. This was another reason why she was a prime candidate–why she was the game piece in this war that was being carried out between Zachary and himself.

Allistair pulled the files and researched data for the reports Katharine had handed him. He needed information on companies that would be good for the mutual funds or even individual investors to put their money in–maybe. It was her job, and now his, to determine the risks. The report packets were already started for a gem mine in Australia that was going public, a metal works that made pins, and a paper manufacturer. While he watched her, Allistair began the required work. He looked up stock analyses and productivity. He pulled past benefits and dividends. He charted the information they would present to the board of Light & Geryon. He didn’t like what he learned.

The contrasts beneath his skin weren’t visible at the surface, and only those few humans with special gifts would be able to see the manifestations in the energy around him. It seemed none of those special people worked at Light & Geryon. No one here would see his shortcomings. His goal this time, aside from claiming Katharine, and therefore a victory over Zachary, was to finally become what he was supposed to be. To not be so human. To not want, not need. If he failed this time, as he had so many times before, the punishment would be swift and likely fatal. A harsh dealing to a creature intended to be immortal.

It was afternoon before Katharine was called away. Aside from a break for lunch, it was the only relief he had from the tight grasp his emotions held him in.

•  •  •

Katharine wanted to run down the hall, but so many things were holding her back, the least of which was her pencil-slim skirt. Her heels were a hindrance. Her brain was churning too fast to pay enough attention to do anything other than have her crash wildly into the things around her if she achieved any speed at all. But mostly it was her upbringing, ingrained on every motor pattern she had, that kept her pace sedate. It was possible that, even in jeans and sneakers and with a clear mind, she would not ever be able to bring herself to run in the halls of Light & Geryon.

The summons to her father’s office brought gut-churning sensations–anticipation of a new promotion perhaps and entwined through it all the fear that she was being reprimanded. Just because she had no idea what she might have done, it didn’t mean that a lecture wasn’t coming. It had happened more than once before.

With a sincere smile at Sharon–the woman had sat outside her father’s office for as long as Katharine could remember–she walked up to the door, only to be brought up short by Sharon’s sweet but firm voice. “He’s busy, dear.”

Hmmm.

Katharine waited outside. His damn dutiful daughter, who had given her life to his firm as thoroughly as if it were her own. His only offspring. And he summoned her when he already had someone in there.

Katharine pulled back, startled by her own thoughts. She had never before resented her father for making her wait. It was merely the way of the universe–she came when he called, she waited when he wanted her to. Taking a deep breath and settling herself on the sofa, even though she had a myriad of better things to do, she wondered if she was cranky because of last night.

She’d woken that morning on her floor and in pain. Her head had pounded to an evil cadence that had turned out to be the beeping of her alarm. Her legs were cramped, folded under her, and so was her arm. Her entire left side bore marks of carpeting and the ache that came with sleeping on a hard, flat surface. If that could be called sleeping.

She remembered the creature in the corner. The straight razor talons that were extensions of each finger. She knew she’d seen its eyes, but didn’t remember them. And she couldn’t be sure if she really couldn’t remember them or if her brain simply refused. A voice at the back of her head told her to be grateful. She would have been doubtful of the whole thing, she
wanted
to write it off as a nightmare, but waking twisted on her floor in the exact place where she remembered falling was more than she could push her brain to just disregard.

Light had streamed in as she’d peeled herself up from the floor, even though her bedroom window didn’t face the sun. The corner of her bedroom had been brightly illuminated. When she looked, she could see every fiber of carpeting, the line where two pieces of baseboard molding had been cut on the bias and seamed together, the lack of soot and ash on the carpet. There was nothing hovering at the edges of her room or reality this morning. She trusted that the place was clear more because of her feelings than her eyesight.