Heart of Stone (9 page)

“As long as you tell them. Keeping secrets is probably not a good idea, considering.”

“I agree.”

“Okay, then.” Cara slapped her hands together. “I'll go get those clothes for you, and tomorrow we can go shopping. Dinner should be ready soon. You can just come down when you're ready.” She turned toward the door.

“Cara.” Faith waited until the other woman faced her. “What happened to Darius? You know, for him to end up in a wheelchair.”

For an instant, she thought Cara wasn't going to tell her. “He was shot,” Cara finally said. “Spine damage. He didn't walk for quite a while.”

“So the wheelchair—”

“Is his,” Cara confirmed. “I've never seen him use it, though. Not until today.”

“Was it…” Faith forced the words through stiff lips. “Was it the Mendukati?”

“No.” Cara gave her a gentle smile. “Plain old human with a gun. But that's another story. I'll go get those clothes now.”

She left the room, shutting the door with a soft click and leaving Faith alone before she could ask about Rafe's fractured stone.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Hours later, Faith entered her bedroom again, her nerves stretched to fraying. Adrian Gray had departed right away to go back to New Mexico and Ben, leaving her alone to face an awkward dinner that had been punctuated by stilted silences and halted small talk from the Montanas, and dagger glares from Tessa. Only Cara appeared easy with casual chatter, and to a lesser extent, Rafe.

Darius never showed.

What was it about that man? Why did she care if he came to dinner or not? She'd just met the guy today. Yes, he'd saved her life. So had Adrian Gray, and while the Warrior certainly deserved a second look from any female with a pulse, it was Darius who haunted her thoughts. And that was dangerous.

She glanced at the clock. Though darkness had fallen outside, it wasn't too late yet to do what she had been dreading. She let out a sigh, dug her cell phone out of her purse, and selected one of the few numbers in her contacts list. The phone began to ring on the other end of the line and was quickly picked up.

“Hello.”

“Lucita?”

“Good heavens, child, it's about time you called!” The older lady's familiar voice soothed away wrinkles of anxiety. “I nearly had a heart attack when I thought you'd been caught in that fire.”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm sorry. I should have called sooner.”

“That's all right. Ben called me, told me what was going on.”

“Oh, good. He said he would.”

“Well, he kept his word. Listen, Faith, don't you fret about what those friends of your husband's did. I'm insured.”

Friends of her husband's? Accurate enough. “I still feel terrible. I want you to know I didn't go looking for this—”

“Of course you didn't! Ben told me all about it, how those troublemakers have been pestering you since Michael died. Some kind of cult wasn't it? Beats me how a levelheaded man like Ben has a son who falls into a cult, but there you go.”

Faith smothered a snort. Yes, the Mendukati could certainly be considered a cult, from a certain point of view. She rolled with the story Ben had given; it was as close to the truth as any. “He told you about that?”

“Now, don't be embarrassed. Wasn't your fault your husband got mixed up in all that. Ben told me way back when he asked me about hiring you. Wanted me to know the risks, just in case.”

That quickly, the tickle of humor evaporated. “I hate that you took that risk. If you hadn't hired me, they wouldn't have trashed your store. And I'm worried they might be back.”

“They'd better not be.” The older woman's voice caught. She cleared her throat. “I'm investing in one of those state-of-the-art security systems with cameras and all that.”

“Lucita.” Faith's eyes stung. “I'm so sorry. You worked so hard to build your business, and all this is because of me.”

“You stop that talk right now, you hear me?” Lucita snapped. “This wasn't your fault! Did you burn up all the weavings, shatter all the pottery? Did you set my store on fire? No, you did not. This is on those cult punks who came looking for trouble. Well, they found it.”

“But they targeted you because of me.”

“What did I just say? I have insurance, and I'll get the store rebuilt. It's going to take some time to restock, and the paperwork's a headache I didn't need. Am I furious? Yes. Hurt to see the business I built from the ground up trashed? Yes. But unless you struck the match or broke all those pots, you better stop acting like you did. You got nothing to feel guilty about, and it's starting to tick me off.”

Faith bit back another apology. “Well, I don't want to do that.”

“You bet you don't. Now you let me take care of the store. What's important is that you're safe and out of the reach of these
locos
. I'm glad those friends of Ben's could put you up for a while.”

“But what about you? These people aren't reasonable, Lucita, and I'm scared they might come after you. I hate that my problems are causing you so much grief.”

Lucita snorted. “Child, I've seen my share of grief in my life, and this doesn't even come close. Just a bunch of idiots trying to flex their muscles, and they'll get what's coming, if there's any justice in the universe. But I appreciate that you're worried about me.”

“Can't you go somewhere for a while, just for a couple of weeks? Maybe while the store is being repaired?”

“Turns out I'm overdue for a visit to my sister in Vegas. Once I get all the insurance nonsense out of the way and the construction company contracted, I'm taking a little vacation. Should be playing slots before you know it.”

“Oh, good.”

“I'm touched that you're worried about me, Faith, but I'm a tough old gal. I'll be fine. I've been on you to have some fun, and it looks like Heaven agrees with me. These friends of Ben's got a pool?”

Faith smiled through the tears. How like Lucita to focus on the positive. “Yes, they do.”

“Any good-looking men around?”

Faith thought of Darius. “As a matter of fact.”

“Well, then. Like I told you, you can't hide forever. Life has a way of finding you. Guess it did.”

“It's not like that—”

Lucita snickered. “Not yet, but I have hope. Now why are you on the phone blathering with an old woman when there are handsome men to flirt with? Get on with you, and don't let me down. I expect you to have some good stories when I see you again.”

Faith swiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay, if anything exciting happens, I'll tell you all about it.”

“That's my girl. Bye now.” She hung up.

Faith checked her phone to make sure the call had disconnected, then dropped it back in her bag. Why had she encouraged Lucita's fantasies about romance? Guilt? She'd only have to disappoint her later when she had to confess that nothing romantic had happened. She simply would not allow herself to form any personal attachment to Darius Montana. She would do the job he'd hired her to do, and he'd give her the money she needed to disappear. A nice, tidy business relationship.

Then why did she keep thinking about him, and in a non-businesslike way?

She dropped on the bed, staring at the ceiling as she wrestled with her persistent fascination with the man. She'd learned the hard way not to trust anyone who knew about her abilities, and it seemed that the motivations of a Seer would be doubly suspect. The fact that she was clearly an unwelcome guest in this house should only add to the list of reasons why she should be on guard. Sure, he was a good-looking man, and at first he'd seemed friendly enough. But that attitude had evaporated as soon as they'd gotten to Sedona. Or, more to the point, as soon as he'd gotten in that wheelchair.

Her heart ached as she remembered the image of him, so broad and strong, undone by a simple mobility aid. How did he stand it? The sympathy and concern of his family must grate on his male pride like sand. No wonder he'd sealed himself away.

And no wonder she couldn't stop thinking about him. His isolationist ways echoed her own.

Okay, she had to stop that line of thinking right now, before she started writing their initials in glitter on red paper hearts with doilies. Maybe they did have something in common, but that was no reason to start speculating about any kind of romantic nonsense. The one time she'd truly opened herself up to a man, she'd married him and he'd nearly killed her for her powers. Darius was a Seer. What was to prevent him from doing the same, especially now that she had moved into the lion's den? She would have to step carefully.

But as she closed her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in that little cabana by the pool.

*   *   *

Darius set out new healing stones, having drained the first ones. He'd learned, after nearly four years of intense practice, to always have a backup set. While his control had improved and he'd needed the healing stones less and less over the past several months, he still kept to old habits. His first attempts at these healing rituals after being discharged from the hospital had seen his injuries absorbing the energy as soon as he began directing it.

Tonight reminded him of those early days.

He settled into position in the chair, bad leg extended, good one bent at the knee, and both hands palm up on his thighs. The exertion of the fight against the Mendukati had certainly weakened his body, and he could admit he'd overextended himself. But the physical damage couldn't compete with the emotional drain on his empathic powers. Albuquerque was a big city, and while Old Town was only a small part of it, the large number of people and emotions had required all his skill to manage. Only another empath could understand how insidious emotion could be, how feelings that did not belong to you could nonetheless take hold, even direct your actions before you realized it.

Like his intense reaction to Faith. Clearly Erok's lust for battle had channeled itself into Darius's uncharacteristic sexual hunger for Faith. Why else was he so drawn to her? She had once been Mendukati, and if the fiancée who'd loved him hadn't been able to live with his injuries, how could he expect a former enemy to do it?

And where had that crazy thought come from? Why was he thinking about Faith that way at all?

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. His brief healing on the plane had served to hold him together like a field dressing on the battleground, but it was a far cry from the complete recovery he needed. Each session with fresh stones only made him stronger. Soon he would be back to normal levels—at least as normal as he ever got these days.

The warmth of the stones' power swept over him like bathwater, and he sank deeper into concentration. He'd learned to let his mind drift, to not think too much during the rituals. To allow his subconscious to go wherever it needed to go.

And it went back to Faith.

He drifted as images formed in his mind. Faith, as he'd first seen her. Lacy white top, curve-fitting jeans. He'd thought a lot about the sexy body beneath those clothes, though he knew nothing could come of it.

He stopped the idea right there.
No negativity. Just go where your mind takes you
.

His mind apparently wanted to take him to forbidden places. Resistance would cause more negativity, which would make this whole exercise futile.

He surrendered.

Lips curving with mischief, the Faith in his mind slid a finger along her collarbone and beneath the shoulder of the top, pushing it down to reveal one creamy shoulder. The top drooped, caught on her breast. Her hard nipples poked against the light cotton. He wanted to put his mouth there, dampen the material over those peaks.

She slid her fingers down her stomach, popped the snap of her jeans. His mouth dried as she shimmied them down her legs. Naked. She wasn't wearing any underwear. Her grin absolutely wicked, she stripped the shirt over her head and bent in front of him, dabbing at a bead of sweat that trickled from his temple. Her breasts bobbed in front of his face, succulent and irresistible. He leaned forward, tasted one nipple with his tongue.

Naughty
. It was her voice, but her lips never moved, never changed from that seductive smile.
Let me help you
.

She picked up two of the smooth amazonite healing stones, each as big as her fist, round and polished and glowing. As soon as she touched them, the glow intensified. She slid them down her body, over her breasts and stomach and thighs. They blazed from the contact, nearly blinding him. He put up his hand to shade his eyes.

She crouched in front of him and placed the stones in his hands, holding them there palm-to-palm. Heat flooded his body, blunting the pain.

You need more
. Her voice again, though she never spoke the words. She leaned forward, braced herself on his thighs to stand, straddled him. Her sex brushed his leg, the scent of a ready woman jerking his attention away from his aching muscles.

She sank down. Somehow he was naked, too, and she slid onto his hard cock as if they were two parts of the same whole, smiling that sinful smile as she began to move. His fingers clenched around the stones in his hands. They burned into his flesh, just like she did.

Leaning her head back, she began to sing.

*   *   *

Faith woke the next morning to the sun streaming in her window and a looseness in her muscles she hadn't felt in a long, long time. A smile curving her lips, she stretched, enjoying the softness of the sheets against her bare skin.

The thought stopped her cold. Bare skin? When had she lost her clothes?

She jerked back the covers. Yup, buck naked. She sat up and looked over the side of the bed. The nightshirt Cara had lent her was nowhere to be seen. She rummaged first through the pillows, then the blankets. She found the garment tangled in the sheets on the other side of the bed. Since when did she do a striptease in her sleep?