She kept running.
So much for her plan to reach safety. She’d only made it to the center of Washington State, and was in a random forest. Did moss really grow on the north side of a tree? North was Canada. Maybe she could reach Canada.
Minutes passed. She stopped, pressing her hands against her knees, sucking in air. She needed to keep moving.
She hurried as long as she could, taking several breaks along the way and listening to the forest. Nobody followed her. The storm attacked the trees around her, their branches providing some cover. Soon, too tired to hustle, she began walking doggedly uphill through rough brush and wet trees, not even feeling the rain anymore. She’d gone from bone cold to numb. North. She was still going north—climbing a mountain.
Two more hours passed and night fell like an ominous blanket. An earlier lightning strike had illuminated a forest service lookout tower up the mountain. It meant there had to be a town somewhere. Maybe on the other side of the mountain.
Lightning crashed into the treetops. She shrieked, halting. Ozone filtered through the wet smell of pine. Shelter. She needed shelter. If she didn’t warm up, she wouldn’t be able to function at all. Taking a deep breath, she hustled the last mile to the tower. The worn wooden structure rose high into the air, no doubt providing an amazing view of the forest. She gazed up the steep flight of stairs. Towers had lightning rods, so she’d be safe inside to wait out the rest of the storm. At least, she’d read that somewhere.
The rain-slicked steps tripped her several times, but she finally slipped over the top step and shoved open the door. Rain on the metal roof drowned out her sigh of relief. A lantern hung next to the door, and she twisted the knob to illuminate the small space.
A cot sat against the far wall, and glassless windows lined all four sides, showcasing the fantastic greenery extending for miles and miles outside. Heavy eaves outside provided some protection from the whipping wind and rain. Laminated maps covered a table in the center of the room. Cabinets recessed into each wall. A phone and walkie-talkie set perched below the table ... but she had no one to call.
Her legs shook from cold and fear as she staggered across the rough wooden floor and dropped onto the cot. Vibrations, images, and thoughts of people who’d sat there before bombarded her, and she shoved them away. She could handle her gift—she just needed to relax. Three deep breaths later, she tried to slow her racing pulse. She needed to warm up. Her shoulders shook so hard her teeth rattled.
Someone knocked on the door.
She leaped to her feet, sliding on the wood floor. Her hand went to her throat. Thunder rolled high and loud.
“Miss Pringle? I’m coming in.” The door opened on a gust of wind, and Max stepped inside.
“Jesus.” She could only gape.
His wet brown hair, thick and wavy, was plastered to his head. A soaked black T-shirt and jeans revealed rock-hard muscle. Not even winded, he was the largest man she’d ever seen. His face was rugged ... strong. Not handsome ... but, well, masculine. Yeah. That was the term. Deep, dark, and shielded brown eyes took her measure.
A shiver slid down her spine, some fear, some intrigue. “How did you find me?”
“You left a trail a first-week Boy Scout could follow. I saw you heading for the tower, so I kept pace until you got here.” He eyed her sopping clothing, his dark gaze wandering up to her face. “Your lips are blue.”
Three steps had him at the cabinets, yanking them open to grab a sealed bag. His large hands ripped open the bag and yanked out two wool blankets. “Take your clothes off.”
“No.” It came out on a croak. How insulting. He’d been tracking her, easily keeping her in sight. So much for getting to freedom. “We need to run. If you’re here, they’re coming.”
He wiped his forehead with his arm. “No, they’re not.”
Her mind spun. If the Kurjans weren’t coming—they were dead. “You killed four of them?” She backed away, knees hitting the cot. Unwelcome vibrations wandered up her legs. She shoved the images away. Her teeth chattered and she clenched her lips together. Her shoulders shook she was so damn cold.
How had he survived the fight? She struggled to focus. “What the hell are you?”
“A damn good fighter.” One broad hand ripped his wet shirt over his head to hang on a nail. “We’ll wait the storm out—but you need to warm up.”
A good enough fighter to kill four deadly monsters? That good a fighter didn’t exist. Neither did absolutely perfect, harder than granite, sculpted male chests. Oh she wished he’d put his shirt back on. The breath heated in her lungs. “No.”
“No to what?”
“No to you beating the Kurjans. No to there actually being Kurjans. No to taking off my clothes. No to it all.” Hysteria had her blinking rapidly.
“Stay calm, sweetheart.” Max moved toward her, slow and steady, like an animal stalking prey. Except he looked more like a mountain than an animal. Not one of those rolling hills from home ... but a real mountain. Jagged and wild—yet solid. Unmovable.
Instinct had her raising both fists, preparing to fight.
He stopped cold. His eyes warmed and he cocked his head to the side. “Honey, take your thumbs out of your closed fists.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He sighed. “Because you’ll break them that way.” A scowl shaped his rugged face into something dangerous. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to fight?”
Why did he sound angry? “No.” Irritation began to well up. “Don’t patronize me. I can handle myself.”
“Can you, now?” He stepped closer, bringing the scent of male and freshly cut cedar with him. “Prove it.”
Her entire body stiffened, and then she sneezed. Twice. Shivers wracked her shoulders.
His sigh stirred her hair. He held the blanket out. “We can do this your way ... or my way.”
She lifted her chin. “What’s the difference?” Cold. She was so damn cold.
“Your way is I turn around, you drop the wet clothes and wrap yourself in this nice, clean, kinda rough blanket.” No expression showed on his stony face, but something lingered in those too dark eyes. “My way is that I help you.”
Lightning zigzagged outside the wide windows, illuminating the entire world. It was almost as if the electricity aimed for the interior of the small space. She jumped, grabbing the blanket.
“Wise choice.” He turned around. “If you’ve never seen a lightning storm from a watchtower, you’re in for a treat, Sarah.”
She took in his broad back, intrigued by the jagged tattoo winding over his right shoulder. Sharp points crisscrossed to form a fierce bird rising from fire. A phoenix? Those shoulders could shield a village. Then the breath stopped in her throat at the myriad of scars lining his lower back. Raised and white, they screamed old pain. “Are you one of the good guys, Max?”
“Stop stalling, darlin’. I’m not a patient man.” Soft, even kind, his voice nonetheless held a firm note of warning.
Not exactly an answer. She clutched the blanket with shaking hands. “Why do you care if I catch cold?”
“Sarah.” One word, yet clipped.
“Fine.” Slow motions had her shoes toed off. Her jeans clung to her wet legs, and she had to shove them down with icy fingers. She pulled her socks off and kicked the mess to the side.
“Underwear, too.”
“No way.” Her T-shirt followed the rest and she wrapped the blanket around her shivering body with a small sigh of relief. She paused, waiting. Nope. No vibrations. The blanket hadn’t been used by anyone before.
He exhaled, muscles rippling in his broad back. “I know this is scary. But hypothermia or pneumonia really suck. I won’t look at you. I won’t touch you. While you have no reason to trust me, I swear on the head of my stubborn, don’t-give-a-crap about his own safety, too proud commander ... I will not hurt you. Now take off your damn underwear and warm the hell up.”
She had no choice. Exhausted, freezing, she was no match for th
e giant. Yet something in her eased at his words. He had a commander he obviously cared for. Figured he was a soldier. She shimmied out of the plain cotton briefs, wrapping the blanket tighter. “What’s your tattoo of?”
His shoulders shrugged. “The mythical Russian firebird—a predator on a quest. I was Russian, a long time ago.”
“You don’t sound Russian.” Gravity pulled her down to sit on the cot.
The tattoo rippled when he moved. “I’ve been in the States for years.” Economical movements had him grabbing her clothing to hang on large hooks on the wall. Thunder growled outside. “These might dry some tonight—I have friends picking us up tomorrow morning when the storm blows over.”
“Picking us up?”
“Helicopter.” He yanked a cell phone out of his pocket. “I texted them before coming inside.” He kicked off his boots. Quick motions had his jeans off and hanging with her clothes.
Talk about male. Real male. Muscled and hard. God. She gulped. “So. You work out.”
His bark of laughter eased the rest of her tension. “Yes. I train with the soldiers and often hit my good friend, Connlan. We box.” Max reached for ropes to tug the shutters closed on three sides of the tower. “The wind is going the other way. We’ll leave the west side open to keep an eye on the storm.” He turned toward her, that dark gaze searching as he twisted the light off. “Try to sleep, Sarah. I’ll keep watch.”
Darkness descended. “You’re a soldier.”
“Yes.” He moved like a soldier—graceful and fast.
The night lent an intimacy to the room she’d like to avoid, though she understood the need for darkness. While she craved the light, it made them too easy to spot. “You think the Kurjans are coming?”
“Not tonight.” Two loud steps and he gently pushed her shoulder so she’d lie down. The second blanket dropped on her, and he moved away.
She’d allow her body to rest. No way in hell would she sleep. “How did you kill four of them, Max?” Her teeth chattered between each word. Cold. Her feet actually stung they were so cold.
“I cut off their heads.”
Nausea swirled in her stomach at his casual tone. “That’s not what I meant.” Certainly not what she wanted to know.
“Oh. Well, I guess my training was better than theirs.”
The guy was a politician at not answering a question. “Are you some genetically enhanced human soldier?” Her grasp on reality had been shattered the day she saw a Kurjan kill a woman. Anything seemed possible now.
“No.” Lightning flashed outside, throwing him into focus.
Dangerous. The man should have a warning stamped on his chest. Her shivers turned into shakes.
“Damn it.” Two strides and he shoved her over. “Don’t panic here, darlin’. But we’re about to snuggle.” Quick movements had him under the blanket, turning her to spoon against him.
Warmth. God. So much warmth infused her she caught her breath. Her shoulders relaxed, even against her will. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“I’m not.” A heavy arm settled across her waist, tugging her into him. “There’s a blanket between us.” His breath stirred along her neck, sending spirals of awareness under her skin. “I can’t have you freezing to death.”
Focus. She needed to focus. “You kept your underwear on.” The black briefs didn’t hide anything. The guy was built.
“I didn’t want you freaking out.”
Good point. “You don’t seem like a snuggler.”
“Ah sweetheart. I’ve been known to snuggle, cuddle, wipe away crocodile tears, and even buy Band-Aids decorated with ponies. I’m harmless.”
She couldn’t help the small laugh. Max was as harmless as a tornado. Yet somehow, the shelter provided by his strong body lent her a sense of safety. “You have a child.” Intriguing, although her heart ached. She wondered why. She just met the guy. He certainly wasn’t hers.
“I guard a little girl.” Max dropped his chin to Sarah’s neck. “She’s ... special.”
Love. It was in the tone of his voice. “She must be very special. Why does she need a bodyguard?”
His shoulders stiffened. “The Kurjans want her.”
“Why?” Sarah gasped, struggling to sit up. The Kurjans? She and Max had to get to the child. Now.
Max held her in place. “Like I said, she’s special.”
“We should get to her.” Sarah stopped struggling—it was useless. Might as well relax against him and steal some more warmth.
“She’s safe. I promise. We protect gifted females like Janie. And you.” Max’s breath heated the sensitive area behind Sarah’s ear.
Desire. Very unexpected and out of place, need slid through her veins, along her skin. She struggled to keep calm. What he’d said—he couldn’t know. “I’m not gifted.”
“You’re enhanced. I can feel it.”
“What does that mean?” He was just making a weird guess. Had to be. She never gave herself away.
Max’s shrug pushed her into the wall before she settled back. “Dunno. Psychic, empathic, telekinetic ... you’ve got something. It’s okay. Many people have gifts, like the ability to hit a baseball or sing a high note. Which is yours?”
The storm had settled in, allowing rain to beat against the metal roof in a rhythmic lull. Intimacy filled the small room. Trust. She so wanted to trust. The way he explained her gift, like it was normal, reminded her of her grandfather. He had accepted her gift and even found expert teachers in meditation so she could learn to control it. For the first time in too long, she didn’t feel so alone. “When I touch something, I get feelings from the object. Well, from the last person who touched it. Sometimes I even know who that was.” She held her breath.
“Oh. Psychometry. Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Max mumbled sleepily.
Sarah closed her eyes. Hope spiraled through her solar plexus. “You believe me?”
His hand flattened out against her stomach. “Sure.”
Her abdomen flared to life. A feminine need ripped along her nerves. She’d forgotten what that felt like. She cleared her throat, opening her eyes into darkness. “You’re the first man I’ve told.”
“Oh.” His lips on her skin made her bite back a groan. “That explains why there’s no mention of a boyfriend in your file.”
Well, she had dated some. “People don’t like it when you can tell so much about them from just touching an object.” It was why she never shared her gift. “I learned to control it—through meditation and practice. Unless I’m really stressed, I can shield myself from most images.”
“But you can’t get intimate with someone with such a big secret between you, now can you?” Max stretched and slid his knees more securely behind hers. “I guess that’s why you became a teacher? Kids have their emotions right out on the surface—no big secrets.”
“Yeah.” She missed the kids. Missed teaching.
“You sound sad. Want to talk? Let it all out.”
Her smile came naturally. “Let it all out?” Who the hell was this guy? A guy who’d easily killed four monsters shouldn’t be so ... well ... likeable. “It’s just odd to talk about psychometry like it’s normal. I mean, that’s why my mom left.”
“Your mom left you?”
“Yeah.” Sarah had dealt with the anger and sadness a long time ago. But every so often, both crept up on her. “She was addicted to drugs and sometimes, when she was really high, she thought the devil had marked me with the weird gift.”
“Ah, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Max brushed a gentle kiss on her ear. Comforting.
She shrugged. “One day, when I was two, she dropped my brother and me off at my grandpa’s and never looked back. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.” Probably not.
“But you have a brother.”
“Half brother. He hates me.” The words rang true. Andrew had always hated her. “Grandpa took us both in, but he and Andrew weren’t really related. I think Andrew blames me for our mother leaving.” For
some time, Sarah had blamed herself.
“That’s just wrong.”
Enough with her sad tale. “Do you have family, Max?”
“Nope. My mother died when I was young, and my father was a real bastard who liked to hit. Had a problem with vodka.” Max’s tone stayed level.
“I’m sorry, Max.” That explained the old scars on his back. They were both alone. She snuggled closer into his warmth.
“No worries.” His breath brushed her ear and she fought a shiver. “Can you get images, or history, from all objects?”
“Usually.” Vibrations tickled her skin, and she let them in. “Many people have had wild sex on this cot.”
He stiffened.
Why in the world had she said that? She closed her eyes, yet the sight of his hard body flared to life behind her lids. “You’re hot, Max. This place gives me ideas.”
His heated exhale whispered across her neck. “If that’s an invitation, you need to be more specific and know exactly what you’re getting, sweetheart.” His breath lowered to a huskiness that had her thighs clenching together.
Curiosity followed need.
She was so not extending an invitation. What was she, certifiable? Again? “What do you mean?”
“I’m not the teddy bear I look like.”
She snorted. Teddy bear? “You look like a genetically enhanced killing machine created by a desperate government after an apocalypse.”
“Like I said, teddy bear.” He settled more securely around her. “I like large women ... females who can take it all night and are happily unable to walk the next morning. When I leave.”
Her nipples hardened. What the hell? His statement was not a turn-on. Okay, maybe the “all night” part was intriguing. “I’m large.” Her mouth had a life of its own.
He chuckled. “You’re tall. Slender and delicate.”
Was the guy blind? She had more curves than a racetrack—had always wanted to lose that last twenty pounds. Something feminine, something deep inside, sighed at his words. “We are not having sex.”