16

Tick, tick, tick. The sound roused me from a fog of dizziness and exhaustion. Darkness encased me, though I swore it had been morning a few minutes ago. My head pulsated with pain.

Flat on my stomach, I lifted my head. The floor tilted and spun.

Tick, tick.

The noise originated overhead. I pushed up onto my knees, but my muscles gave out and I collapsed again. Dust plumed up into my nose and eyes. I coughed, sneezed, panted. A heavy object pinned my feet, and though I jiggled them, I could not free my ankles. Resting my cheek on the floor, I blinked to clear the watering of my eyes. The ticking battered my eardrums like hammer blows.

I crawled my fingers across the floor, hunting for the source of the sound. My fingers bumped into a cold, metal object. I closed my hand around it and dragged the thing close to my face. The ticking got louder, its relentless rhythm apparent now. I held my alarm clock, an old-fashioned kind with hands that counted off the seconds and minutes. I was still in my bedroom.

Duh. A psycho with supernatural powers attempted to murder me, with my own bedroom as the weapon.

When I stretched one arm up over my head, my fingertips grazed popcorn-like balls. My muddled brain spit out one lucid thought. The balls came from the ceiling. Skeiron had stomped his proverbial, or perhaps literal, foot down on a pesky, eensy bug — aka, me.

I huddled under a large hunk of the ceiling. It pitched down at an angle, the higher end wedged on my bed, the lower pinning my ankles. I shoved against the ceiling chunk. No movement. I twisted around to push with both my hands, but succeeded only in punching pains into my shoulders and neck, straight up into my skull.

Trapped.

My chest morphed into a granite block crushing me. My breaths panted, shallow and unhelpful. Numbness tingled through my face and spread out into my body. I was hyperventilating. If I passed out, and the super-scary king of the sylphs came back, I'd be thoroughly screwed.

"Help!" My scream echoed in the space around me. My ears hurt from the noise. My eyes hurt too. Every muscle in my body burned or ached or quivered, or some combination of the three. My breaths puffed shallower and faster, the numbness sweeping down my limbs. "Somebody help me!"

My hoarse shriek set off a fit of hacking. I crumpled onto my stomach, cheek on the floor, hot tears streaming down my nose to drip onto the floor. No one was coming. I'd hyperventilate myself to death, if that was possible, or die in some other, more horrific way.

A weight thumped onto the pile above me. The debris shivered. Dust and fragments of plaster pelted me.

I spit out the dusty gunk that collected on my lips. What if Skeiron was back?

The ringing in my ears escalated into a chorus of off-key bells that deafened me. Black dots in my vision merged into a margin of darkness encroaching on my mind. Don't pass out, don't pass out.

The debris shifted. I squeezed my eyes shut against the cascade of detritus. It infiltrated my mouth, mutating into a dry, chalky paste on my tongue.

Rattling and clattering erupted overhead. A whooshing sound preceded a cracking splat.

The pressure on my ankles released with an almost painful rush. Cool air rushed over me. Light shimmered behind my lids, but I could not make my eyes open, immobilized by a primal terror. I sensed a figure above me and a familiar energy sizzled over my skin, but my adrenaline-addled brain denied my instincts, denied what I'd prayed for with the last scraps of my strength. I couldn't stop the fear from whispering in my ear a warning someone else might be impersonating my sylph, right down to the sensations I experienced when he was near but out of my sight.

When my rescuer moved closer, blocking the light, I sucked my lips between my teeth and squeezed my lids tight enough to wring tears from my eyes.

"Lindsey," a familiar voice said. "Love, can ye hear me?"

"Nevan?" I pried my eyelids apart. Through the tears and dust blending to blur my vision, I spied a person kneeling beside me. A large, bare-chested person. I inhaled, but drew in plaster dust and dirt, hacking until my throat was raw.

A hand stroked my forehead. "Shh, love, it's all right. Let me help you off the floor."

Nevan's voice flooded me with relief. The intensity of it pulverized my thoughts and wilted my body. One of his muscular arms locked around my waist to lift and turn me until he could hook his other arm under my knees. He scooped me up into his embrace, my head on his firm chest. His heartbeat hammered under my ear. My ears still rang, my breaths came quick and shallow.

"Easy now," he said. "Try to take slow, deep breaths. You're safe."

With my entire being, I trusted his words and clung to them like a life preserver. Though it consumed all my energy and concentration, I dragged in one long, slow breath after another. The ringing subsided. The numbness drained away, replaced by the warmth of his flesh against mine. I cuddled into him, relishing his earthy scent and the solidity of his body. Safe. Lord, for the first time in years I felt protected.

He nuzzled my hair. "Better?"

"Yeah." I dared to glance at my surroundings. Sunshine poured down through the hole where the ceiling had been, and rubble buried my bed. "I think your boss tried to smother me with a building."

He went rigid. I swung my gaze up to his face, inches from mine. The stutter in my pulse had nothing to do with shock. The stark look in his eyes, coupled with the strained slant of his mouth, pierced my heart. Without even thinking about it, I laid my hand on his cheek.

A weak smile trembled on his lips.

I caressed his face, stretching out my index finger to graze his temple. "I'm okay."

"The king spares no thought for mortals. Are you certain he did this?"

"Positive. Mr. Creepy didn't introduce himself, but I recognized him from the shop. He said a mortal shouldn't speak his name. He also said you couldn't have me."

Nevan set me down on my feet. He swept a tangled lock of hair from my face.

I rubbed my arms, overcome by an inner chill. "Your king's a real sweetheart. What's he got against me anyway? He sends a bird to spy on me, then he tries to murder me."

"If Skeiron meant to kill you, I'd be collecting the pieces of your remains from this debris."

"He dropped a freaking roof on me."

Nevan stared down at my bare feet, his arms slack at his sides.

My toes wiggled, as if they were showing off for him. Saucy little digits. I couldn't control my own toes around him.

He ground his teeth. "I failed to track down Brennus. Perhaps I could've stopped this if I had caught him."

"This is not your fault."

"It is." Nevan ran a hand over his mouth. "I've been selfish and reckless, abandoning my duty to be close to you. In the process, I've pulled you into the center of my debacle."

"Listen up." I waited until he looked me in the eye. "I wanted to be with you. I chose to go with you into the Unseen. Brennus has been spying on me, I knew it, and I decided it was worth the risk."

"To be with me?" he asked, his tone uncertain.

Just as I started to reply, a black shape spiraled down from the sky, right through the hole in the ceiling. I yelped, but Nevan glanced up with disinterest.

The grackle dove low over our heads before soaring up and away.

Nevan arched a brow at me. "Why so frightened? It was far too small for a raven."

"Excuse me for being a tad jumpy after my visit from His Royal Scariness."

"What else did Skeiron say to you?"

"Oh, nothing much." I shrugged halfheartedly, feigning indifference. "If you're the one then you'll be mine, I'm a big baddie, blah-blah-blah."

Nevan spewed a volley of what must've been curses, given his tone, but in that alien language he'd used before. He grasped the back of his neck in both hands. "Brennus may simply be observing you, but that is dangerous enough. He reports to the king. If Brennus has seen you with me, Skeiron also knows about our… relationship."

"Yeah, he probably heard you tell my brother you're my boyfriend."

"Possibly."

Boosting up on my tiptoes, I tapped my finger on his nose. "I notice you haven't asked if I'm your girlfriend."

"Such a presumption would be indelicate."

"Presuming you're my boyfriend isn't?"

"Ah… " Nevan grimaced, then swept his gaze over me. One corner of his mouth pinched.

I glanced down to discover dust and dirt coated me from head to toe and those little popcorn balls from the ceiling stuck to my skin and hair. I took hold of my nightgown between my thumb and forefinger, shaking the fabric. Dust clouded around me. Bits of debris plopped onto Nevan's feet. "If Skeiron didn't want me dead, what was the big show about?"

"It was a message. For me." Nevan focused on my shoulders, as he picked ceiling popcorn off my skin. His fingers nudged the spaghetti strap of my satin nightie. Its neckline dipped low over my breasts, exposing the upper slopes. His fingertips skimmed over my collarbone, to the juncture at the hollow of my throat. I imagined his hand dipping lower to cover my breast. My skin tightened, every nerve energized.

How could I fantasize about him touching me at a time like this?

Nevan's fingertips skated down my breastbone, into the valley of my cleavage. My nipples shot hard. His eyes widened at the sight of the taut buds poking through the flimsy fabric.

He snatched his hand away and coughed into his fist.

I rubbed my arms, shoulders bunching. "What kind of message was your king sending?"

"No matter now." He squeezed my shoulders, patted my upper arms, and lowered his hands to his sides. "What's done is done."

"Come on, I was almost a pancake. Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

He took one big step backward, as the pained look on his face morphed into bleak resolve and his gaze focused on the wall past my shoulder. "I must leave you and I shall not return this time."

"I've lost my fascinating appeal, eh?"

"Never." His gaze fastened to mine, his eyes dazzling kaleidoscopes. "I was mistaken to believe I could have one thing for myself. How selfish I've been. I only wanted… " His hand floated up, near my arm, his fingertips teasing the gossamer hairs and triggering a flurry of goosebumps. "You'll be safe once I am gone."

A reckless impulse seized me. I grasped his hands and dragged him to me, our bodies mashed together, my breasts crushed against the planes of his muscles.

A smirk threatened to bust out, twitching his lips, but he banished it. His eyes flared hot, then darkened to a smolder. When I lifted my head, he dipped his closer to mine. Our breaths mingled, and for a blessed heartbeat I imagined our souls had mingled too. He glided his finger up my wrist, massaging lightly. Our lips hovered dangerously close.

I gave in to the lure of his magical eyes, indulged in the carnal allure of his body pressed to mine and the firm line of his erection against my belly.

"A few days ago," he murmured, his voice rough, "you ordered me to stay away. You're free of me at last. Is that not what you wanted?"

"Not anymore." I probed his eyes for some clue to his motivations, his intentions. "I am your girlfriend, Nevan. Please don't leave me."

He grazed his cheek across mine. I drank in his presence, my mind whirling from the intoxication of it. He dragged his lips down my skin, toward my mouth, and in a husky whisper said, "Goodbye, my sweet Lindsey."

My eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation of the kiss, my lips tingled, liquid fire gathered between my thighs. He wanted me. And God help me, I wanted him.

A breeze cooled my skin where his flesh had warmed me. My eyes flew open.

Nevan had disappeared.

Even as he abandoned me, apparently forever, he respected my no-kissing decree.

An unsatisfied yearning ached inside me. More than the physical need, though, I longed for the safety and connection he imbued into me. I didn't understand it. I'd never wanted it. Yet somehow, I needed it more than anything.

Sirens wailed outside, echoing the sorrow in my heart.

*****

I dug through the wreckage of my bedroom in search of my robe while racking my brain for a reasonable explanation for this calamity. The sirens whined ever nearer and the cops would be here soon. When my fingers found my satin robe, I wrestled it out of the debris. Ripped and dirt-stained, it would have to do. A portion of the wall had caved into my closet and my dresser lay smashed under an avalanche of ceiling debris.

As I shook out my robe, my thoughts rewound to the first time I'd met Nevan. He caught me when I tripped. Distracted me from a dead body. Whisked me away to another world so we could get Brad resurrected. He rescued me when his king tossed a ceiling on my head. Most of all, he made me feel — period.

Car doors banged shut outside.

Pins and needles pricked at the backs of my eyes, manifesting tears. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the tears pooled anyway. I swiped at my eyes, rolled my shoulders back, and lifted my chin. I could not afford to break down. There would be questions from the authorities, most likely Travis, and I'd need all my wits to survive the onslaught. I shoved down my terror and pain, along with every other strong emotion roiling inside me, and caged them in the steel-reinforced vault of my mind, secured with three deadbolts and a massive combination lock. My passions were death row inmates.

Even prisoners condemned to death got a chance at appealing the conviction. Maybe I could, someday, release my emotions. Nevan kept encouraging me to do it, and with him I'd wanted to so badly, but I'd waited too long. He was gone, forever.

I fumbled with my robe, finally pulling it on, and clambered over the debris pile, through the doorway, into the darkened living room.

The front door quaked with the pounding of an angry fist.

"Open the goddamn door, Porter," Travis shouted. "Before I break it down."

Another blow rattled the door.

I switched on the lamp by the sofa as I hurried past it. Light flared out into the gloom, dousing the blackest shadows. I swung the door open, remembering a moment too late I was wearing my sexy nightie, with my robe unfastened to reveal the plunging neckline and high hem.

Travis's jaw dropped. His eyes all but popped out of his head. Behind him burned the sulfurous glow from the lights posted outside each door of the apartment complex. Stray beams glanced off the badge on his chest.

I whipped my robe closed, tugging the sash around my waist to knot it over my belly.

He swallowed with a visible effort. As his eyes shrank into a squint, he lurched into the doorway, inches from me. "Are you hurt?"

"No. The ceiling fell on me, but I was lucky. The bed protected me."

"What in the hell went on here, Lindsey?" He clapped his hands on either side of his head and clawed his scalp with his fingers. "How — why — " His hands fell away, his jaw trembled. The pitch of his voice rose. "Ceilings don't collapse for no reason, but I ain't seen a tornado."

A scary-angry supernatural beastie ate my house. Uh, no. Not saying that, particularly given his agitated state. I offered up the best hogwash I could. "Maybe it was a downburst or a straight-line wind."

Travis bared his clenched teeth. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're stupid."

He smacked his hands on the doorframe, and braced there, he pitched toward me. A current of black fury rippled through his deceptively soft voice. "Tell me the truth. After everything we've been through together, you owe me that much." He angled his neck down to level our faces. The anger radiating out of him mixed with another emotion, something far more personal. "You coulda died, and I wanna know what the fuck is going on here. The truth. Now."

Or what? I didn't ask, certain I wouldn't like the answer. "It's better if you don't know."

I'd hated it when Nevan refused to tell me stuff, and here I was shoveling the same crap onto Travis. No wonder he was pissed.

He glared into my eyes. "Not good enough."

More sirens ululated outside. Past his shoulder, I glimpsed the strobing, multicolored lights of emergency vehicles. The beams lashed across the balcony to hurl their colors onto Travis with a sinister glow that matched the drilling intensity of his gaze.

I locked my hands over my belly and took one step back. "Please, Travis, let this go. It's weird and dangerous and completely crazy. You're better off not — "

He shackled his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides, mashing me into his chest. The thick stench of booze made my stomach lurch. His mouth bore down on mine, stifling my shocked cry, the kiss hot and sloppy and soaked in alcohol. He towed me closer, his fingers punching into the flesh of my upper arms, and tried to shove his tongue between my lips.

Oh, like hell you will. I rammed my knee up into his groin.

My mouth muffled his grunt. His fingers loosened and I took advantage, slugging him in the only soft part of his belly. Air exploded from his lungs as he doubled over, and I swung my fist up into the vulnerable underside of his chin, wrenching his jaw shut with a crack. He cried out, staggered backward into the door jamb, and slumped against it. Breathing hard, he raised his face to me.

The light from outside slashed across his features, revealing tableau of drunkenness. His bloodshot eyes were glassy, his eyelids droopy. He looked dazed, his face flushed, and perspiration beaded on his forehead. His sheriff's uniform fared no better, creased with a multitude of wrinkles, his shirt partly untucked, and his belt off kilter. His holster was empty, the Sig nowhere on his person.

Travis shook his head, a palm plastered to his forehead. "Jesus Christ, what have I done? I don't know how that — why that — "

His voice evidenced the faintest slur.

Words pushed against my paralyzed vocal chords, scrabbling to get out. Angry, vulgar epithets. And a few creative suggestions for what he could do with himself.

"Lindsey," he said, reaching a hand toward me then snatching it back. "God, I'm so sorry."

I shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face.

My hand over my mouth, I fell to my knees on the rough carpeting and huddled there until the first responders banged on the door. Then I collected myself and let them inside.

Nevan did not materialize to comfort me. From here on, I was on my own.