Lifebound (5 page)

An idea suddenly occurred to him. He’d seen her at the window as he walked back. He knew where her room was.

Down the hall, he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. It took him to the ground floor instead. So he pressed the button for the second floor again. It took him back to the third.

Undaunted, he tried the stairs, but the door to the second floor refused to open even when he slammed his shoulder into it.
That’s a fire hazard.
He limped back up the stairs and into his room, throwing the window open again to stare at the ground. A pile of broken candles glowed in the moonlight on the grass below, also marking the spot right beneath the window he suspected was hers. He leaned out to examine the bricks and carved statuary decorating the building and smiled. This was going to be fun.

Adriana finally dressed for bed and crawled beneath the silky coverlet, her eyes scratchy and blurry from crying. She rolled over and tried to sleep, but all she could see was Josh walking back from the dock alone. She’d wanted to go down there so badly, just to explain. Explain what, she didn’t know. But she didn’t want to leave anything unsaid between them.

She sniffled again and rubbed her face. At last, she got up and went into the bathroom for a cool washcloth. She peered at her face in the mirror, scrubbing the tearstains from her cheeks. As she walked back into the room, a cool wind blew through her now open window, pushing the curtains into the room in billowy folds.

The room was dark, but the moonlight illuminated the figure of a man dangling in the open window frame. The intruder swung lightly onto the floor to land with a grunt.

Adriana shivered in fear as she prepared to scream for help.

Then the figure stepped into the soft glow of the lamp, and she gasped.

Josh.

Chapter Five

“I
t’s just me,” Josh said as he rubbed at his hip.

“What are you doing? How did you get in here?”

“Climbed. I do some parkour on the side,” he said as if that gave her some kind of explanation.

“Parkour?”

“Free running. Kind of like doing an urban obstacle course. You climb buildings and jump off two story ramps. Things like that. This wall was easy. Plenty of handholds on the gargoyles.”

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, completely taken aback by his unorthodox arrival in her room.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

She passed him a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and he sat down in her reading chair. After a long silence, they both started to talk.

“I just wanted—”

“I needed to tell you—”

“You first—”

“You first—”

They looked at each other. Adriana took a seat on her bed, pulling a blanket across her skimpy silk pajama short set, and nodded at him. She had no idea of what to say anyhow.

Josh put his water bottle down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know it doesn’t look good that I climbed in your window to tell you I’m not some kind of stalker, but I’m not. I wasn’t trying to cop a feel when you bailed off your board. I guess I just hit the ground kind of hard and—” His cheeks turned pink in the lamplight. “I’m not usually a fainter. You must think I am a complete waste.”

“No, oh Josh, no, I never thought that.” She had to stop herself from reaching out to him. “I am so sorry about not coming tonight. I wanted to talk to you too.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea about me. I like you. I really do. But now is not a good time for me to start a relationship.” There. She’d said it.

“Okay.” He looked across the room at something on the wall. The silence hung in the room for a moment. “You don’t have to worry about me. Don’t feel like you have to hide out or anything. Enjoy your vacation. Go learn to breathe.”

She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but disappointment was apparent in his voice. As he stood up to leave, he flashed her a slightly sad, yet still dazzling, grin.

She rose, dropping the blanket as she tried to think of something else to say. She didn’t want him to leave. The soft coverlet fell to the floor, and his gaze roved over her, sending little shivers down her spine.

The moonlight touched the skin of his neck and shone in his dark hair. As he turned and reached overhead to grip the window ledge, his shirt pulled up to reveal a glimpse of his muscular stomach and a light trail of dark hair that led into the waistband of his shorts.

“Josh.” She whispered his name, not knowing why she did it, not knowing what she would do if he answered. He had to leave. She had to let him go.

But she didn’t want him to go. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to run her fingers along his shoulders and across his chest. She wanted to kiss him until he tore the clothes from her body. She wanted to own every inch of him.

Why?
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t we have this?

Beside her, the bedside lamp began to dim and brighten with the intensity of her emotions.

“Sarka needs to spend some money on the wiring in this place,” Josh said as he glanced around the room. As the lamp continued to pulse, he turned away from the window completely and his eyes met hers.

She didn’t know just what he saw when he looked at her, but his incredibly blue eyes opened wide with surprise or interest, then darkened with determination—and desire. Without warning, he crossed the room in two steps and claimed her. He tangled the fingers of one hand into her hair and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her into his body and crushing her mouth with his in one swift movement.

As his lips plundered hers, she began to drag at his life force like a starving animal. They were right. She was a vampire.

She locked down her hunger as tightly as she could, building an impenetrable dam of pure will between the reservoir of his life and the desert of her need. Damn it, she wanted this. She needed this. And he needed it too.

He’d leaned into her heavily when she began to draw on him, but the instant she shut down her abilities, he pulled back enough to look into her face.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered and slipped her hand underneath the edge of his shirt to touch the naked skin of his chest.

He was so warm and strong beneath her fingers. He drew her closer, pulling her into him so closely the hardness of his body pressed into her insistently.

He slid his fingers under the fabric of her flimsy sleepshirt to caress her back, then glided downward beneath the silky waistband of her shorts to spread warm against her skin. He kissed her again, his lips pulling at her and tasting her as if he couldn’t get enough.

A soft moan escaped her lips as his mouth explored the skin of her neck, igniting a trail of sensation that ran through her body like a wildfire along her nerves, peaking at her nipples and at the apex of her thighs. He pressed himself closer to her there, and she gasped at the tingling flood of response that began to roll through her.

Her physical need for him threatened to overwhelm the tight control she’d placed on her other needs. Just beneath the surface of his warm, solid masculinity, the force of life surged in him, a sweet crackle of energy that coursed through him, run rampant with his arousal.

He kissed her mouth again, his tongue exploring hers, his lips insistent, leaving her breathless as he clutched at her hair and her body, gathering her against him firmly. She curled her fingers against the short soft dark hair on his neck, clinging to him.

But even as she pressed against him, she knew she had only seconds before she had to pull away. The dam of control inside her had begun to crack, and at any moment she would be unable to stop herself from taking more from him than his kisses or his touch.

Her body wanted his desperately, but her need for his energy was growing stronger still. He was so gorgeous, so strong, so vibrant. His skin was warm against her, but just beneath his skin lay a wealth of life. His kisses ignited her body, but the golden fire inside him ignited the flame of her inmost being.

Where she was empty, he would fill her; where she was cold, he would bring an inferno; where she was a wasteland, he would bring vibrant life. The cracks spread and the dam began to break. She had to pull away.

“Stop, Josh,” she whispered, her voice husky with frustration and desire.

“What? What’s wrong?” he murmured against her cheek.

He brushed his hand through her hair, and she nearly lost herself in the tenderness of the caress.

“We have to stop. I can’t.” But instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer.

“Okay, we can slow it down,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her. His skin still touched hers—the connection was unbroken and it was intensifying.

“Please let me go.” Adriana trembled with the effort of keeping herself in check. He loosened his hold on her, his embrace easing. She forced her arms back to her sides and closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but one hand was still at her hip, the other running light fingertips across the curve of her face.

“Please, Josh,” she whispered, tears of incredible effort and inconsolable grief spilling down her face.

But instead of letting her go, instead of breaking the contact, he pulled her back into his arms again and gently kissed her hair.

Her control blew wide like a window in a hurricane as Josh washed into her and through her in a sparkling surge. Her very being thrummed with the influx of his vital force. He poured into her and she began to pull on him recklessly, unable to get enough, knowing she was drawing out his life but completely powerless to stop it.

She had never felt anything like this. The flow was a raging river of life passing back and forth between them, but Josh began to weaken as he gave her more than she returned to him. He grew heavy against her as his knees began to buckle. She tried to use his collapsing weight as leverage to tear them apart, but her muscles had locked themselves so firmly around him she couldn’t even let him fall as he leaned on her. His breath quickened against her cheek as if he were running a desperate race.

She battled against the pull again, but forces more powerful than her will—primal forces of her very nature—overrode all her desperate struggles. The laws of gravity were more easily broken than the incredible energetic connection her powers had forged between them. She was killing him—she knew it—and the knowledge broke her heart.

Just then, the door of her room slammed open and Cemil ran inside, another dark-haired man at his heels.

“Step away from him, Adriana,” Cemil commanded firmly.

“I can’t!” Bitter tears poured down her face. They were too late. The only power capable of separating them now was death. Anyone who attempted to touch either of them would only be pulled into the vortex as well.

The other man leaped toward her and with a terrific jolt shoved her to the side, somehow breaking the connection by brute force. She stumbled in the sudden loss of the lifeline Josh’s energy had been to her. All his life, all his warmth and strength had been ripped away from her, leaving her chilled to the bone and dizzy.

Across the room, Josh also staggered backward, his eyes seeking hers. “Adriana,” he whispered. His eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed limply against Cemil, who rushed to break his fall.

“No!” she screamed and tried to go to him, but the dark-haired man held her firmly. He was wearing gloves.

“Adriana, stop fighting me!” the man yelled at her. “I can’t hold you much longer.” He called back over his shoulder to Cemil, “Is he alive?”

“Barely,” Cemil said.

Adriana’s knees gave as she collapsed to the floor. “No, no, no,” she repeated desperately. “Josh!” She tried to crawl to him, but the other man held her tightly in his gloved hands.

Josh lay on the floor, completely still, so pale. What had she done?

Someone—one of the other guests—stuck his head inside her open door. “What’s all the commotion in here?”

Cemil looked up from where he knelt next to Josh. “Get Sarka,” he said. “Go to the lobby and pound on the office door until she answers. Get her now.”

Hysterical tears poured down Adriana’s face.

“Josh! Josh! Can you hear me?” Cemil called to the unconscious man.

“What do you think?” the dark haired man asked.

Cemil pulled up Josh’s eyelids and peered into each eye. “Cyrus, I have no idea. Maybe if he lives through the night.”

The doubt in Cemil’s voice pierced Adriana’s soul like a dagger.

“He wanted to see me.”

Through the fog of semi-consciousness, Josh heard Adriana speaking. He heard her crying.

“I promise you I was trying to stay away from him.”

Josh tried to answer, to explain that it was all his fault, but he couldn’t move. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he wake up? Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

A deep voice asked, “Why didn’t you send him away?”

“I tried. He wouldn’t—I just wanted—It’s not fair, Cyrus!” Adriana sobbed.

He wanted to console her but his lips were frozen. His fingers refused to reach for hers.

“Go downstairs, Adriana,” a woman’s voice said.

“No! I’m staying with him.”

“Are you sure that is a wise idea?”

“I swear to you I won’t touch him. I won’t come within five feet of him. But I won’t leave him, Sarka!”

He began to drift away again. The voices continued, but he couldn’t understand them anymore.

She wasn’t going to leave him. That was good. He’d be fine in the morning.

Soon the fog of unconsciousness enveloped him completely and he no longer heard them.

When the morning light finally rose over the island, Adriana sat curled up in a chair beneath a light blanket. Her eyes were open but felt rusty from crying. Josh lay in the bed, still so quiet, so pale. He hadn’t moved all night.

There came a light knock at the door, and Sage eased into the room. She balanced a tray of candles and herb posies against her hip. “Cyrus, go on back to bed.”

“Adriana, do I need to stay?” he asked, a note of censure in his voice.

“No. I won’t come near him.”

Cyrus nodded and went to the door, still wearing his gloves, gloves she’d learned he almost never took off. During the night, she’d asked about them. Normally clothing provided very little barrier between her and her victim.

Victim. She’d always used the polite euphemism of “host.” But considering how she’d killed Tom Bridges and very nearly killed Josh, perhaps she should face reality. These men were her victims.

Cyrus’s gloves, he’d explained, had an extra layer of protective enchantment laid on them by his older sister Sarka. Cyrus was a retrocog, able to hold an object in his hand and tell its history and the histories of those who’d touched it.

Too many years of holding murder weapons and reliving heinous crimes had taken their toll on him, leading him to wear the gloves as an insulator between him and the rest of the physical world. They also gave him an added layer of protection from the draining effects of her abilities, not enough to completely stop her, but enough to break her free of that awful whirlpool of energy that had nearly claimed Josh’s life.