Part 21 (1/2)

Lannes did not want that. Not at all. ”Who is she?”

”Her real name is Alice,” Koni said heavily, ”and she's the grand-niece of the woman who tortured you and your brothers.”

Chapter Fifteen.

Lethe was in the shower when she felt a tremor run down her link to Lannes. She had hardly been able to sense it until that moment, but the connection suddenly burned so bright in her head that she felt it as a thread made of liquid fire, s.h.i.+mmering hot and fine.

She almost went down on her knees, but instead she turned the water off and staggered from the stall, grasping blindly for a robe. The pain started to ease by the time she left the bathroom, but not enough to keep her from seeking Lannes out. No one was in the parlor. She heard voices in the other bedroom. She thought about grabbing a steak knife from the dinner tray, just in case, but kept her hands in the pockets of the robe.

Lethe opened the door. Lannes stood in front of it, his back to her. Just beyond him were Rictor and Koni. Both men had shadows in their eyes, but it was only Lannes who concerned her. She began to reach out, to touch him, but he stepped away from her at the last moment, turning to face her.

His gaze was terrible-so raw, so torn, staring at him felt the same as being punched in the face. She staggered back a step, feet aching, heart wrapped so tight in the link between them, she was afraid it might stop beating if she was cut off from him.

”What happened?” she whispered.

”Nothing,” he rasped, and pushed past her. Moments later, a door slammed.

Lethe turned on the men. ”What did you say to him?”

”Truth,” Rictor replied. ”Nothing but.”

Koni would not look her in the eyes. ”He'll be fine.”

Then you're blind, she thought at him, still blistered by the look in Lannes' eyes.

Lethe limped quickly through the parlor, back into her room. She upended the bags of new clothes, pulling on soft black yoga pants, a tight hooded sweats.h.i.+rt, a pair of thick socks and white tennis shoes. Her hair was wet, but she ran her fingers through it once. Grabbed a room key. And left.

She did not think, just followed her instincts. Breadcrumbs inside her heart. She ignored the elevator in favor of the stairs, hobbling down them as quickly as she could until she hit the first floor. From there she went outside, crossing the cobblestone drive for the garden.

Lethe found Lannes standing in the shadows of trees, near an old stone bridge. His back was turned against her. He cut a lonely figure, large and solid as an oak. It was easy to imagine wings.

She did not immediately approach him; she could not bring herself to. Lethe felt as though she was in the presence of something hurt and wild, and all she could offer was s.p.a.ce and time and gentleness. So she sat on the gra.s.s, hugging her knees to her chest, wondering if this was what it felt like to be a little girl, lost and alone.

She waited a long time. She waited so long, she wondered if Lannes was aware of her presence, but then the link would pulse, and she knew he had a bead on her heart, just as she had a bead on his. Until finally, as the sun began falling into dusk, he stirred from under the trees and came to her.

Lethe did not stand as he approached. All she could do was watch him move-like a dancer, unspeakably graceful, with a lean coiled strength that was also, somehow, not nearly as attractive as his kindness.

She did not move, not even when he finally stood above her, big as the world. She wondered rather absurdly if invisible wings still cast shadows.

”Are you all right?” he whispered. ”You've been sitting there a long time.”

”I'm fine,” she said. ”You?”

Lannes glanced away from her, staring at the dome. ”Better.”

And then he reached down, grabbed her wrist and pulled her up hard against him. His arms snaked around her waist, and it felt so good to be held by him, she wanted to cry. A horrible weakness, but she could suffer it. Just as she could suffer the realization that losing him-in any form-was quite possibly the worst thing she could imagine happening to her.

”I was afraid,” she confessed, craning her neck to peer into his eyes.

”I know. I felt it.” Lannes hefted her higher in his arms, so that her feet dangled. ”I had to figure something out.”

”They gave you bad news.”

”Depends.” He searched her face, the edge of his mind pressing against her own. ”Depends on a lot of things.”

”And?”

”And nothing,” he said roughly, and pressed his lips against her own.

She was not expecting to be kissed, but his mouth was hard, even desperate-and if he was gentle in some ways, his kiss was not. It stole her breath, every thought in her head, and it was good he was holding her because if she had been forced to stand, her legs might very well have betrayed her.

Lannes did not let go. He sank to his knees on the gra.s.s, taking her with him. They were kneeling together, tangled, her body draped in something heavy and warm that she could not see but that felt like leather or silk.

My wings, he murmured in her mind, and his kiss deepened to such an intensity that she lost herself, forgot everything. But only for a moment. Lannes pulled away, eyes shut, breathing hard. She was little better. Her heart was hammering, not an ounce of strength left in her body.

Afraid. Totally, desperately, afraid.

Don't let me remember my old life. Please, don't, she prayed desperately. Not if it meant giving up this new existence, no matter how twisted and dangerous it had become. What she had now was better. It had to be.

It is, whispered her instincts. Run from the rest. Run from them.

Lannes opened his eyes. ”Them.”

Lethe wished he could not read her mind so easily. ”The mysterious 'them.'”

Your family? Lannes thought, but the words were so fleeting, so rushed, she sensed he had not meant her to hear them. Nor had he expected her to see, like a flash of lightning, a rush of images: a woman with long brown hair shrouding her eyes, and a lush sultry pout; a knife, a flash of green light, blood soaking into white sand. Pain crept beneath her skin, as though her veins were kissing fire, and it was so sudden, so shocking, all she could do was suck in a hard fast breath.

Lannes grabbed her arms, steadying her. ”No, don't look.”

I can't help myself, she whispered, and his conflict was immediate, a tumbling force in his heart that made her mouth taste bitter and her body feel cold. She leaned back from him, rubbing her tingling face with her palm. Lannes' hands trailed away, as did the warmth of his invisible wings.

”They told you something about me,” she said, full of dread. ”Something bad.”

”Nothing bad about you,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, scooting backward on the gra.s.s. ”I don't want to know.”

Lannes said nothing, not with his voice, though his eyes were dark, his mouth set in a hard line. He stood and held out his hand.

”You're not alone,” he rumbled. ”No matter what happens.”

Lethe closed her eyes. Strong fingers curled around her wrist, drawing her slowly up on her aching feet. She was afraid of seeing more from his mind, but her thoughts remained blissfully quiet.

”Look at me,” he said.

Lethe did not. She turned and started limping back to the hotel. Her life felt perilous, built on air and matchsticks. There were no memories to fall back on, only whatever she had on hand: grit, stubbornness, a blind determination to stick one foot in front of the other. Nothing that could be stolen.