7

The sun stabbed into my eyes through my lids. A headache raged behind my eyes and cold sweat chilled my chest. The remnants of a gut-wrenching nightmare receded, leaving behind impressions of blood and anguish and terror. I pulled in breath after breath until my heart slowed its rapid thumping.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I dragged myself out of the bed. My raven-attack wounds burned when I moved and the satiny fabric of my nightie brushed across the deep scrapes and punctures. I chose my softest cotton bra, but it still chafed. After dressing, I got a bowl of cereal and sat cross-legged on the sofa munching on the whole wheat biscuits. The glaze of frosting didn't fool my taste buds. They longed for more of Nevan's sinfully succulent offerings.

Oh crap. I stopped mid chew. I'd eaten his food, without balking, without thinking. Calm down, if it was poisoned, you'd be dead. Sure, but what if the food was cursed or enchanted or whatever? I might be magically bound to do his bidding.

If that were true, why had he left last night? He would've stuck around to play with his new toy. Maybe… the food was just food. Which implied he cared about my well-being. Why else bring me dinner and insist I eat it? He kept saying he shouldn't have been here with me, he shouldn't have told me anything, and yet he came back.

Even supernatural men had a knack for confusing me.

I finished my breakfast and drove to the shop. This was Thursday, my day off, but I needed to check out the crime scene again. If Travis found out about this, he'd laugh at me and tell me there was no crime scene, then handcuff me for the hell of it. Big mystery why I couldn't stand him.

A man had died. I witnessed the result of the foul play. If the sheriff wouldn't investigate, I would.

Stan's Toyota was tucked behind the shop, in his private parking area. I stowed my Malibu in the far corner of the gravel lot, under a sprawling pine with sagging branches that shielded my car. Nobody liked to park there, so I wouldn't be taking up a space a tourist might want. The morning was relatively cool, considering the heatwave, but humidity made the air sticky on my skin.

As I slunk across the parking lot and through the rock garden, I heard the hollow metallic rattling of Stan opening up the big front doors. Upping my pace, I hurried down the trail through the woods. Sweat dribbled down my chest to sear my wounds. I stopped at the healing vortex and perched on one of the stone benches. I might've been delaying because the thought of the blood stain, and what it signified, shivered dread through me. When had I become a coward?

I dug a wadded-up tissue from my jeans pocket. Lifting the neck of my T-shirt with my thumb and forefinger, I dabbed at the sweat on my chest, careful to avoid my wounds. The antibiotic ointment I'd applied to them last night didn't seem to do much.

Warmth suffused my breasts where the raven had punctured me, spiraling out into the rest of my body. I gulped air and the warmth infused my lungs. I slapped my palms on the rock beneath me, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness. The woods twirled around me, yet the sensation sweeping through my body soothed me. The dizziness abated with a suddenness that left me slumped on the bench, breathless.

My wounds no longer stung. I palpated my breasts but no pain ensued. I snagged the hem of my shirt and whipped the fabric up to expose my chest. An iron fist hardened in my gut, heavy and cold.

The wounds were gone. Healed, as if they'd never existed.

I sat motionless for a moment, staring into space. The healing vortex was real. Why that revelation hit me so hard, after everything I'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours, mystified me. I just couldn't acclimate to this new world, or rather, this new version of the same old world.

Wake up, you're on a mission, remember? Right. My investigative mission. With a cleansing exhalation, I pushed up off the bench and headed for the crime scene.

The blood stain came into view. My throat tightened and my step faltered, but I kept my footsteps on a trajectory for the crime scene. My brain superimposed a vision of the body over the vacant dirt plot punctuated by the dark stain. I knelt beside the blood. The dried puddle seemed smaller than yesterday, or else my memory inflated its original size.

Christ. A man had died here.

Scanning the area, I spotted no signs of a struggle. Yeah, like I was a forensics expert. I had to try. I tiptoed over to the railing along the pool at the base of the falls. Though I searched the ground for any clues, nothing popped out. None of the rocks near the railing bore any blood stains and the railing itself was intact. If the man had fallen and hit his head on the railing or the rocks, surely a sign would remain. There was nothing.

I returned to the site marked by dried blood. Here he'd lain — and here he'd vanished.

A strange, yet familiar, sensation fluttered through me. I shut my eyes, struggling to decide if I wanted him to appear or hoped he'd give up and go away.

"What are ye doing?"

Every single hair on my body rose at his deep voice, and my skin tingled as warmth flowed over my skin, soaking in down to my bones. I took a breath, let it out, and faced Nevan.

He stood several feet away, arms folded over his chest, broad shoulders relaxed, a faint smile on his lips. Water dripped from his powerful body, spattering the ground. His hair was dripping too, the wavy locks drenched but springing back with amazing virility. He shook his head, drops sprayed out, and in an instant every speck of water evaporated from his toned flesh and skimpy loincloth. Waves of silky hair, now dry, settled around his face.

Nevan drank in my appearance with a long, slow appraisal. His lips curved up at the corners and he stroked his tongue over them in a languid lick. The memory of his mouth on my earlobe careened through my thoughts. Last night, I'd freaked out at the contact, but today my skin flushed at the prospect of his slick tongue and soft lips teasing my skin.

I clasped the back of my neck with one hand, fingers knotting in my hair. "Hi."

"Hello, darlin'." He strode one pace toward me, consuming half the distance between us. "What are you doing here? I thought this was your day of rest."

"Yeah, this is my day off."

"Why are you here then?" His arms fell to his sides, slack, yet he inched ever nearer.

I scuffled backward. "Checking out the crime scene. If Travis won't investigate, I will."

"I shall aid you." He glanced at the blood stain and pursed his lips. "Don't expect we'll uncover meaningful evidence. Whatever stole the body clearly had the power to cover its tracks."

"How come you say 'whatever' and 'its'? This must be a person."

"You persist in assuming the universe is home to humans alone."

"And you."

"I am not the only sylph, or immortal being, populating the realms." He slanted his torso toward me, his body suddenly too close. My feet refused to budge, though I wanted to move away. I did want to, didn't I?

He captured a lock of my hair, threading it between his fingers. "This is your day of rest, a time for fun. Why waste it on a fruitless search for answers you'll reject?"

"This could be a mundane crime, no immortals involved." My brain did a U-turn back to his two comments about my day of rest. I pointed a finger at him. "How do you know this is my day off?"

"Well now, I — "

"Oh right. You've watched me for three months, but not in a creepy stalker way."

He managed to seem offended and amused at the same time.

"Porter!" Travis's bellow bounced off the trees and the sandstone cliff, rattling my eardrums. He'd skulked up behind me me while I had my back turned to the trail, my attention trained on Nevan. Travis, in his sheriff uniform, stomped up to us. His lip curled when he glared at Nevan. "Thought my mind was playing tricks on me last night, but no. You actually prance around in that getup."

Last night? Fury rose hot in my chest and I slugged Travis's chest. "That was you last night. In the parking lot outside my apartment. You've been spying on me."

He grunted. "You're a suspect in a crime, Porter. It's called surveillance."

I planted my hands on my hips. "Yesterday you said there's no body, so there's no crime."

"Not talking about the alleged body you claim to have found." He rocked on his heels. His forefinger tapped the grip of the Sig Sauer holstered on his hip. "Told ya, I gotta protect the populace from the likes of you. George of the Jungle here better watch out." His gaze swiveled to Nevan. "She's a man-killer."

Though I tried to speak, my voice abandoned me.

"I'm watching you, Porter."

Travis stalked back down the trail toward the shop.

Nevan rotated his head sideways to monitor Travis's departing silhouette. When Travis disappeared around a bend in the trail, Nevan harrumphed. "Why does the sheriff persist in maligning you with such lies?"

Okay. Time for full disclosure. I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets. "It's not a lie. I am a man-killer."

Nevan's gaze snapped to mine. "Impossible."

"You don't know me." I wouldn't look away, no matter how much I longed to break the connection. I must make him understand. "I killed my fiancé, Calder. Travis's brother."

"No."

I stepped up to him, so close my breasts nudged his bare chest. Standing tall, I tilted my head back to zero in on his eyes. "I shot Calder six times in the chest and once between the eyes."

His head whipped back. His eyes widened, the colors flared and whorled. He shook his head.

"I did it, Nevan. I emptied a full clip into the man I thought I loved and I don't regret it." I flattened my palm on his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath it. "Listen to Travis. I am no sweet, innocent girl. I'm a woman who killed an unarmed man, and in the same circumstances, I'd do it again without hesitation."

He gave a weak shake of his head.

"Believe it, Nevan. I'm a man-killer."

I turned my back on him and marched down the trail.

Stalking around the bend, I caught sight of the rock garden twenty feet ahead. A tear rolled down my cheek, hot on my skin. I wiped it away, my breaths hitching, and stared at the ground as my feet pounded out a hard rhythm on the earth. What was wrong with me? So what if I told Nevan about my past — a part of it anyway. That gave me no reason to feel… exposed. Raw. Humiliated.

I tripped over my own toes, flailing forward in an uncontrolled zigzag. With a little hop and a grunted curse, I regained my balance.

"Best take it easy, love."

My stomach fluttered. I halted and swung my head up, a breath caught in my throat.

Nevan lounged upright against a tree, ankles crossed. One arm hung slack, while the other rested on his thigh. He studied me with an intensity that belied his casual demeanor. "I'd prefer ye don't make a habit of tripping and falling."

"I didn't fall."

He pushed away from the tree and strode closer, consuming the distance between us, stopping an arm's length away. A repressed smile tugged at his lips. "Congratulations. Ye managed not to crack your lovely skull, and without any assistance from me."

I grasped my shoulder with the opposite hand, my arm a diagonal bar across my torso, as if that might deter him from coming closer. "Did you not hear me before? I'm a man-killer."

He moved in, his breaths ghosting over my face, teasing me with enticing scents I couldn't identify. "Fortunately for us both, I am not a man."

"Would six shots to the head kill you?"

"No." His fingertips trailed down my arm. I sucked my lips between my teeth, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his caress as he danced his fingers back up my skin. "Bullets in my brain might slow me down a bit, but I would heal."

"Good to know."

He drew lazy circles on my skin, with his fingertips barely touching me. "Are ye plotting to murder me?"

"If I said yes, would you leave me alone?"

"Do ye truly wish me to?"

His husky tone, and the delicate stimulation of his fingertips, drove out rational thought. Slick heat pooled between my thighs and I felt light, as if I might float away — yet rooted to the ground, helpless to move. "Why are you here? I'm a killer and I'm annoying. You've said you shouldn't be with me anyway, so go. Save yourself a lot of trouble."

"You are neither trouble nor annoying. If you killed a man, I'm certain it was self-defense." His hand glided up, over my shoulder to my throat, and higher, to cup my cheek in his smooth palm. "You are intelligent, brave, beautiful, highly sensual, and thoroughly bewitching."

"Oh. Is that all."

I angled my face away, but he hooked a finger under my chin to coax me into meeting his gaze. He stroked his thumb over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. My legs got wobbly and I locked them for stability, though my inability to break eye contact ensured my legs wouldn't firm up anytime soon. God, those eyes. They cast some kind of spell over me, twirling my thoughts until they scattered out into infinity. Even spellbound, I couldn't manage to keep my big mouth shut.

"Have you fulfilled your duty for the day?" I asked, with no desire at all to know. The image of Nevan's lips on Sandy's plagued me and I didn't need more unwanted visions. Especially since they made my gut twist and my chest ache and my fingers curl in preparation for clenching into fists.

Christ. Maybe I was jealous.

Nevan gave a small shake of his head. "I cannot."

"I thought you were magically bound to hunt down special women and shove your tongue down their throats."

He flinched. "They are not special. You are."

A bizarre little thrill shivered through me. I was special. Shouldn't care. Didn't care. But right then a memory exploded in my mind of Nevan pressing his lips to Sandy's, and I gritted my teeth hard enough to cause pain. Rats. I did care, more than I wanted to, more than reason permitted.

"The bargain with Skeiron," he said, "requires me to search for the Janusite. It does not require me to unleash my ethereal senses every time I encounter a mortal woman."

"I don't understand. If you hate your job, why did you agree to the bargain? And why do you stick to it, instead of saying 'to hell with this stupid agreement'?"

He slipped his hand into mine, twining our fingers. It felt so good I let my fingers wrap around his hand, and his sealed around mine in response. "Magic is new to you, love. You've no conception of the power a bargain wields."

My gaze became glued to his mouth, those luxurious lips, my mind fixated on the notion of what it would feel like to crush my mouth to his and take the flavor of him into me.

"Your lips are awfully close to mine," he purred, his eyes hooded and glowing with unfurling tongues of flame.

I blinked. Holy crap. My mouth was millimeters from his, my lips were parted, and — oh God. I was licking my lips with slow strokes. Somewhere in the middle of my fevered imaginings, I'd leaned toward him, risen onto my tiptoes, and gotten into position to smack one on him.

Hopping back a step, I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets, shoulders hunched. "Sorry about that." I bristled at his half smirk and hastened to add, "Not like I was about to kiss you or anything."

"Why do your desires frighten you?"

No, I wouldn't answer that question, so I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Have you done something to me? Like what you did to Sandy?"

"If you believe I would do such a thing to you, why are you still here?"

"Keep telling you to go away."

"And yet, you could walk down this trail and leave me behind."

Oh. Yeah, I probably could do that. "Won't you just pop up in front of me again?"

"Not this time." He lifted my hand and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. "You were upset before, when you ordered me to leave you. This time, if you tell me to go, I will. Do you wish me to leave?"

I stared at his bowed head. His shoulders had sagged, his hold on my hand had weakened. Aw hell. "No. I don't want you to go."

His head came up. A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. His expression was almost… grateful.

With my hand still in his, I cleared my throat. "You, uh, could walk me back to the shop. If you want."

The smile brightened and he straightened. "I will accompany you."

He led me down the path at a leisurely pace, our hands linked. As we strolled toward the rock garden, he spoke, hesitantly at first. "Perhaps in your world it's possible to walk away from an agreement such as mine with Skeiron. But in the Unseen realm, a bargain is sealed by magic. If I fail to fulfill my portion of the bargain, Skeiron may mete out whatever punishment he sees fit, even destroy me."

"Destroy? You mean kill?"

"Worse. To destroy an immortal means to tear him apart at the most basic level — what I believe mortals call molecules — and scatter his essence and powers to the Four Winds. That is what the other gods did to Janus, because they feared his ever-growing power. It took all their combined magics to eradicate him."

I strengthened my grip on his hand. "In my world, we have a saying about a fate worse than death. Sounds like you immortals made it literal."

"We have."

At the edge of the rock garden, he stopped and turned toward me, blocking my view of the garden and the shop beyond. The sun lit him from behind with a halo effect, his body outlined in a golden glow. Though numerous birds twittered in the trees, a dove's voice rose above the rest, its mournful call tugging at my soul.

"Nevan, why would you make this awful bargain? What did Skeiron promise you in return for doing his bidding?"

The breeze tousled his hair, but he ignored the strands blown into his face. "The king agreed to spare his daughter's life."

"What's that got to do with you?"

Though his arms hung at his sides, his shoulders were tensed and his fingers worked as if untying invisible knots. His gaze drifted far away from me, from this place, this time. "I engaged in a dalliance with Skeiron's daughter."

"Oh." I stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets, refusing to think about him cavorting with yet another female.

When he shuffled around, angled sideways to me with his profile illuminated by soft sunshine, the pain in his eyes evaporated my jealousy. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth. "It was… a rather long dalliance involving numerous liaisons. When Skeiron found out, he commanded us to marry but she refused. Skeiron grew quite angry and threatened her life."

"He threatened to kill his own daughter? What a sweetheart." My dad was a good man who worked long hours to make sure we had everything we needed. I couldn't envision any circumstance in which he'd murder me. Nevan's world really was another realm of existence, alien in every way.

Alien in almost every way. He seemed more human than an awful lot of the people from my world.

"It was his right," Nevan said. "Though I did not love his daughter and had no more wish to marry her than she did me, I could never allow harm to come to her. I pleaded with Skeiron to spare her, vowed to accept any bargain in exchange for her life. He'd learned I've indulged in many amorous encounters with other females, even during my acquaintance with his daughter."

"Ouch. That must've seriously ticked him off."

"I was a cad in those days, had been for thousands of years. I deserved to be punished, but his daughter did not." Nevan's chin dropped to his chest, his hair flopping down in a curtain to shield his eyes. "Skeiron agreed to a bargain, but his price for her life was my enslavement. My rank as a general in his army was stripped and I became guardian of the falls, bound to this precise location, never to wander free again."

For a roving Casanova to be tied down in a near-literal sense must've been like, well… castration, I supposed. Double ouch. "And you were coerced into hunting for the Janusite."

"Yes." He absently touched the scar on his chest. "To seal the bargain, he imprecated my heart."

"Imprecate?"

"Cursed it. Cursed me to have no heart, no feelings, nothing but a yawning abyss in my soul." Nevan picked at the scar, but his gaze had retreated into the past. "To complete the imprecation, he cut my flesh."

"But you do feel."

"Only since I saw you." His fingers on the scar stilled. "Perhaps the energy I sensed in you diluted the curse."

What could I say to that? I couldn't have anything to do with it. Maybe Skeiron lied about cursing him, but I doubted he'd accept the suggestion. Thanks to his guilt over Skeiron's daughter, he'd become too invested in believing he couldn't feel.

"How long ago did you strike this ass-backwards bargain?" I couldn't help the disgust in my voice. Forcing a man to enchant and kiss innocent women, day after day, was repellent — even for a man who'd thoroughly enjoyed the company of women before the bargain.

Though I despised the deal he'd been forced into, I did not despise Nevan, in spite of his past and his current — er, occupation. I loathed Skeiron. Kill his own daughter? Enslave and curse Nevan? If I ever crossed paths with the king of the sylphs again, I'd empty my derringer's clip into the bastard's head and see how long it took for him to heal. Then I'd do it all over again.

A question popped to mind, one I was fairly certain I didn't want answered. But sometimes a girl has to ask anyway. "What will Skeiron do the Janusite if you find her?"

"I take the Janusite to him. My duty ends there and I am not privy to the remainder of his plan."

Rustling erupted overhead. A raven cackled and cawed.

I zeroed in on the frenetic motion partway up the trunk of an aspen tree. Leaves tumbled down from the branches. The raven flapped its wings in a tight arc, its glistening eyes trained on me.

Nevan shoved me behind him. His every muscle was tight, his body poised for battle. Head thrown back, he shouted at the bird in an alien language.

The raven laughed. Swear to God, it did.

With a final cackle, the bird launched into the heavens. Branches flapped and leaves showered down on us.

Nevan spun around to grasp my upper arms. The intensity of his expression, rife with fury and anguish, made my chest constrict as if he'd clamped iron bars around my ribs. He gave me a gentle shake. "Have you seen a raven before?"

I folded my arms over my belly. "Yeah. So what?"

He shut his eyes for a heartbeat. "Has the raven threatened you in any way?"

"I guess. If you call slamming me to the ground and digging his talons into me a threat. He told me the guardian isn't mine, the same thing Skeiron said." Comprehension blew the breath out of my lungs. "The bird meant you."

Nevan nodded.

"You are the guardian of the falls." I shook my head. "Why does Skeiron's pet raven — and I'm guessing it's more than a nasty bird — why does it care if I hang out with you?"

"I've no time to explain. I must go, if I'm to catch him."

"Him? Do you mean the b — "

Nevan vanished.

With no idea what else to do, I went home and scoured the Internet for information about sylphs and magical bargains, staring at my computer screen until my eyes burned and head ached. Cyberspace gave up nothing more intriguing than myths and legends, interspersed with New Agey theories. None of it enlightened me. None of it clued me in on the motivations of a real-life sylph king. Or the motivations of a one sexy, mysterious male in a loincloth.

At sunset, I carted my trash bags down to the dumpster in the parking lot. The shadow of a skyborne object flashed across the pavement. I bent my head back to study the heavens, where a bald eagle sailed off into the distance. Not my raven friend after all. The sun sank lower every minute, though, heralding the darkness and dangers of the night. Of course, it wasn't like I could see my enemies coming in the daytime either.

I rubbed my arms in a futile effort to ward off a chill originating from deep inside. Kings and bargains and angry ravens. All those things would haunt my nightmares tonight.