Authors: Christine Feehan
Water Bound (18 page)
Rikki rolled over and stared up at the sky, all the while cradling her left arm and pressing her palm against her wildly beating heart. What had saved her from a cold dunk? It would have been difficult to climb out, but she had no doubt she could have. It would have been messy and cold and very embarrassing, but still . . . She looked at the narrow ledge where she’d been. It had collapsed completely in a mini avalanche.
Rikki? Rikki, answer me. I need to know you’re all right.
Lev’s voice filled her mind. She realized immediately he had done something to help her
from a distance.
Swallowing hard, she rubbed her hand over her face, trying to think. He had to have tremendous power to do something like that. She lived in Sea Haven and everyone there knew the Drake family. It was rumored that seven daughters were always born to the seventh child and each carried tremendous gifts, but she’d never heard of anyone else having such powers, and the Drakes were—well—the Drakes. Everyone accepted them as fact.
from a distance.
Swallowing hard, she rubbed her hand over her face, trying to think. He had to have tremendous power to do something like that. She lived in Sea Haven and everyone there knew the Drake family. It was rumored that seven daughters were always born to the seventh child and each carried tremendous gifts, but she’d never heard of anyone else having such powers, and the Drakes were—well—the Drakes. Everyone accepted them as fact.
Answer me now.
The voice was a soft growl of command. She couldn’t stop the instant response.
I’m fine
.
Don’t worry.
I’m fine
.
Don’t worry.
Rikki clapped her hands over her ears. She had no intention of engaging in telepathic communication with him. If he could get inside her head, he might be able to read her thoughts . . .
You could read mine too.
There was relief in his voice. It flooded her mind and the intimacy of his velvet tone shocked her. Her body reacted, coming alive, every nerve ending alert. Electricity sparked over her skin, and deep in her most feminine core she felt empty and needy.
Get out of my head. Trembling, she managed to get her feet under her.
You scared the hell out of me. And my head hurts like a son of a bitch. You might consider that before you go getting yourself into trouble.
She sensed his anger was shocking to him, that he was horrified at his own fear for her safety. Somehow that was unusual—his concern for another human being. He didn’t understand their connection any more than she did, and knowing that made it easier for her.
Well, thanks for saving me from a dunking.
He was silent a moment but she could still feel him there in her mind. It was a bit like being underwater, everything in her stilled and steadied as if he anchored her in the same way the sea did.
If you’re finished playing, come back to me.
She could hear the pain in his voice, in his mind. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she pressed her palm tight against it.
Lev, did you try to get up?
Lev, did you try to get up?
I wasn’t going to leave you in danger.
For her. He’d tried to get to her. He could barely stand for more than a couple of minutes, just what it took to get to the bathroom and back and even then he was dizzy. Each day had been a discovery of new bruises from the battering he’d taken, yet he’d tried to get to her.
You’re not nearly the bad man you think you are.
Come home and find out.
He growled it at her, meant it to be a threat.
He growled it at her, meant it to be a threat.
She found herself smiling as she walked back to her truck. Maybe there was something to this telepathic nonsense after all. When he spoke out loud, she basically wanted to hit him over the head, but when he talked to her in her mind, she could sense his feelings. She didn’t pick up nuances of voices or read facial expressions like other people, but she didn’t have to when he projected his voice into her mind. He was there inside her and she knew the feeling behind the words.
I’m coming. I hope you’re back in bed. I’m getting a little tired of picking you up off the floor.
If you’d quit mopping it so much, it wouldn’t be so slippery.
The amusement creeping into his voice made her happy. She knew laughter was even more foreign to him than it was to her, yet for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, he found her funny. Most people thought her odd, but her strangeness not only didn’t bother him but he seemed to enjoy her company.
You give me massages.
She swung into the truck and slammed the door, frowning.
I knew it! I knew the moment I let you into my head you’d be trying to go where you don’t belong. My thoughts are not for you to go eavesdropping on.
I knew it! I knew the moment I let you into my head you’d be trying to go where you don’t belong. My thoughts are not for you to go eavesdropping on.
You were thinking about me.
Satisfaction purred in his voice.
Satisfaction purred in his voice.
Well, think about me becoming very angry with you.
I’d rather think about you giving me a massage.
She choked on laughter.
Doesn’t this way of talking make your head hurt?
She had the beginnings of a headache.
Doesn’t this way of talking make your head hurt?
She had the beginnings of a headache.
I already have a headache. I can’t tell what’s making it worse or what isn’t. All I know for certain is, I want you back here safe in this house with me.
She tried to block the rush she got from his words and the way he said them. It was impossible not to feel the heat spreading or the way her body responded to him, reaching out the way it did when she was near water.
I’m on my way.
7
“LEV, you need to listen to me.” Rikki glared at his back as he paced around her kitchen. “This is important information. A yacht sank off our coast the day I pulled you out of the water.” She watched carefully, but there was no reaction from him. “It’s a huge deal. They’ve got investigators and scientists swarming all over. Everyone is presumed dead.”
When he continued prowling around opening all the cupboards, she sighed with exasperation. “Don’t you understand what this means? You had to have been on that yacht. It was just a short distance from where I was when it went down.”
It had been three days since she’d gone to the village, and this was the first time Lev had been up for more than fifteen minutes. He’d actually showered, and although he’d had to lie down for a half hour, he was back up again and hungry, wanting an actual breakfast, not broth or peanut butter sandwiches. She’d run out of the soups Judith had bought for her, and she was feeling a little desperate, hoping to distract him from eating. And she hadn’t been out to sea in more than two weeks. It seemed like months and the effects of her last little visit to the bluff days ago had already worn off, leaving her agitated and distressed.
Lev banged another cupboard closed and she glared at him, irritated.
“Stop that. What in the world are you looking for?”
“Food.”
“There’s tons of food. Quit slamming the doors. You need to shut them quietly.” Or better yet, not touch them. “You’re leaving fingerprints all over them and I’ll have to spend hours polishing them.” She touched her throat. She’d been wearing turtleneck sweaters for freaking weeks to cover up the fingerprints he’d left on her throat. She didn’t mind tight heavy sweaters, but high necks bothered her because she tended to fall back into an old habit she had of hiding in them. She’d fought hard to stop that, but wearing one for fifteen days made her want to disappear into the warm material. She was desperate—
desperate—
for the sea.
desperate—
for the sea.
His gaze shifted to her face, then drifted down to her neck. She suddenly wished she hadn’t drawn his attention. His face darkened, and shadows crept into the blue of his eyes.
“How bad is it? Let me look.”
He stepped close, looming over the top of her so that she hastily backed up to create more space. When he was in bed, he seemed vulnerable and needed care. She actually could lie on the bed and fall asleep beside him as long as she got up before he woke, although she sometimes suspected he knew the moment she opened her eyes and just didn’t say anything to her. She wasn’t certain how to feel about that either, because it meant he sensed how uncomfortable she was with him when he was awake.
Rikki shoved at her unruly hair in agitation. She had no idea what to do with him. But he had to sit down and quit walking over her floor. He was barefoot at least. She might have to hide his shoes if he demanded to put them on and walk across her clean floor. It was that or kick him out—which she was certain was the better idea.
“Keep your hands off my neck. In fact, keep your hands off of everything. You’re making a mess.”
He hadn’t stopped coming at her, not even when she gave him her blackest scowl. She held up a hand to ward him off. “People say I don’t know boundaries. You have none at all. Don’t touch me. And don’t touch my things.”
He ignored her hand and pushed at her sweater, exposing her throat. His fingers brushed strokes over the marks. They had long since faded to little green smudges, but she didn’t want anyone—not even him—to see the evidence. She had never liked being closed off, and his body trapped hers between freedom and the table. She held her breath, afraid she might explode into violence, but somehow the stroke of his fingers took away the sense of being ensnared. Instead, sensation poured through her body, like a wave of heat, brushing over her skin, sinking deeper, until she felt his touch in her bones.
“I didn’t mean to do this. I actually don’t remember grabbing you around the throat.”
She pulled away from him and jerked the neckline of her sweater up, stepping to one side to give herself room to breathe. “Do you remember the knife?”
He kept his gaze locked with hers. “You should have dumped me back into the ocean.”
“Darn right, I should have,” she agreed. “Now that that’s settled, sit down. I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
He looked pained. “I don’t eat peanut butter.”
That genuinely shocked her. “Who doesn’t eat peanut butter? It’s the perfect food.”
He shuddered. “Even to make up for all the things I’ve done wrong, I don’t think I can do it.”
“For a man who carries around as many weapons as you do, you’re a bit of a baby.”
“It isn’t being a baby not to eat peanut butter. I don’t think babies eat the stuff.”
“That’s un-American.”
“I’m not certain I am American,” he pointed out.
She had to agree with him there. “Fine. You can put peanut butter on waffles. Blythe bought some of those frozen thingies that you put in the toaster. I’m not sure how old they are. Do frozen foods last like four years or more?”
He groaned and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair, pushing his head into his hands. “Death by peanut butter. I never thought I’d go that way.”
Rikki found herself laughing. Nothing made her laugh, not out loud, not hurt-her-tummy laughing, not like this. He looked so dejected—a big, tough man done in by peanut butter.
He looked up at her and smiled, and the laughter faded. Her stomach somersaulted and her heart contracted. Suddenly it was hard to breathe again.
“I don’t know how to cook,” she blurted out.
He looked at the dishes and pots and pans.
“I just wash them to keep them clean, but I’ve never used them, not once in the four years I’ve had them. There’s broccoli in the vegetable bin. I can’t cook it but you can eat it raw,” she offered.
“You fed me soup.”
She tapped her foot and counted to twenty before she faced him again. Color crept into her face. “I heated it up in the can on this little gas outdoor thing I have. All the soups are ready made so it was easy.”
There was a small silence while he studied her expression. “How about I cook for us? If you’re going to let me stay here while I recover, that’s the least I can do.”
Was she going to let him continue to stay in her home while he recovered? Rikki chewed nervously on her lower lip. He would say he wouldn’t touch her things, but he would. And she’d have to be very vigilant. Just because the house hadn’t caught fire during the last two weeks, didn’t mean it couldn’t happen—the risk was far greater with someone else in the house.
He sent her a small smile. “You’re thinking of kicking me out.”
She shrugged. “I’m always thinking about kicking you out.” She spread her arms out, encompassing her home. “I’m used to living alone, and it’s safer.”
“Not really. Not if someone’s really trying to burn you out. I’d be damn handy to have around.”
He leaned toward her, his blue eyes so intense she lost herself there, in that wild blue sea. “Let me stay with you, Rikki. I have nowhere else to go. I don’t have a clue who I really am. If I was on that yacht, everyone thinks I’m dead.”
So he had been listening. He’d chosen not to answer—as she often did.
“Maybe this is my chance,” he persisted. “My one chance at a new life. I can be someone else, someone different.”
“If you don’t know who you are . . .”
“I’ve killed men. Every instinct I have is all about survival.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t protecting people, Lev. I saved the newspapers.” She got the newspapers but never read them, not until she’d gone into town and seen the influx of reporters. The mess was still going strong. “The man who owned the boat was a billionaire and everyone on board was lost, including his bodyguard. You could have been his bodyguard. Don’t bodyguards have to shoot people occasionally?”
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