The Empath Page 8

  Startled, she pressed against the door. He must be a psychological expert and be able to read facial expressions. Hell, one of her patients, a cop, told her most psychics did it. What the hell had she gotten involved with? The strain of the past days looked like a holiday compared to the fresh danger she faced. Maybe she could jump…how fast were they going? And what about Misha? She didn’t look back, didn’t dare give him any indication what she thought.

  “I don’t need you to look at your dog to tell me what you’re thinking. All I need is to tap into your mind.”

  His voice was softer, as if he didn’t want to scare her off. Too late. Maggie felt her stomach pitch and roll. Sweat dampened her palms.

  “Would you please let go of the door handle? I don’t want you to accidentally fall out. You’re too important, Mags.”

  “Important to you? Why?”

  “Important to me, and others. I’m not about to let anything happen to you. Relax. If I had planned to hurt you, wouldn’t I have done so last night instead of now?” He tapped the steering wheel. His fingers were long, solid looking. Dark hairs dusted the back of his hand.

  “You’re a medical researcher, Maggie. Logically, would I have deliberately put myself in danger if I were a threat to you?”

  Not necessarily. But too many ingredients in this odd mixture were still unknown, like an illness she still had to diagnose. His words made sense. What made less sense was her deep longing to believe and trust him. As if he were a long-lost friend. A hint of beard shadowed his jawline, though it was still morning and he’d looked freshly shaven. The plain T-shirt molded to his muscled chest. Her gaze flicked down to the faded, tight jeans hugging his stone-hard thighs. Nicolas’s exposed skin was tanned, probably from working the ranch he said he owned back in New Mexico. Or did he?

  She didn’t know whether to trust him or run for her hide. Maggie studied the passing landscape. Still southbound, but headed where?

  For now, she’d go along, while they were speeding and it proved too dangerous to leap from the car. Slowly her fingers unfurled from their death grip on the door handle. Wincing, she exercised them.

  “Why are you calling me ‘Mags’? No one’s called me that since childhood. Only my parents did.”

  “Maybe more than your parents did. What do you remember of your early childhood?”

  Maggie searched memories, stopped. This thread was starting to worry her.

  “Never mind. If calling you Mags makes you uncomfortable, I won’t do it.”

  She’d almost prefer him as cold and uncaring. It made her choices easier. She could easily cut and run first chance she got. This kind of compassion proved more dangerous than if he’d wielded a knife because then she’d know what she fought against. Part of her badly wanted to trust because she needed an anchor in this crazy sea of surreal happenings. The truth hit Maggie. She had no family and no real friends to worry about her, wonder where she had gone.

  The realization left her feeling cold and lonely. Would anyone ever care?

  “I care,” he said softly.

  “Will you stop doing that?” she protested.

  “Stop what?”

  He gave her a charming smile. All teeth. Gleaming white teeth, like a wolf. A dimple dented his right cheek. She squirmed from the sudden heat curling through her body.

  “How can you read my mind? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Does any of this make sense? Not if you’re ensnared in the practical and logical. Let go of all you’ve embraced so far, Maggie. Let yourself go. Feel. Believe in possibilities. Not science and empirical evidence and facts. Imagine the possibilities of what could happen, and what could go right, and wrong, if magick ruled the world. Everything you’ve denied.”

  Nicolas angled his head toward her. “Everything you’ve felt about me, Maggie. Does it make sense? It’s not sexual chemistry, not the typical male-female kind. It’s deeper, more important and lasting. You didn’t run with me because the Morphs invaded your home and nearly killed your dog. You ran because your instinct told you I’m your best damn chance of keeping safe. And I am.”

  He drew in an audible breath. “Because I will, to my last dying breath. It’s ingrained into me as much as your empath abilities are genetically programmed into you. It’s what will ultimately bind us together. You and I, Maggie, are destined to be together. So relax and stop questioning everything. In time, it will all make sense.”

  Maggie closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what seemed like utter nonsense. She didn’t believe in karma, the tooth fairy or soul mates.

  What she believed in most right now was self-preserva-tion. Having escaped one danger, she now had to get herself out of another one. Was Nicolas a knight to the rescue or a wolf in sheep’s clothing who wanted to hurt her? She couldn’t risk it. Not now.

  First chance she had, she’d escape.

  ———

  Tension tightened his body as Nicolas followed U.S. Highway 19 as it turned into U.S. 41, eastbound toward Miami. Beside him, Maggie looked as if she feared he’d whip out a knife and start carving her up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  The only instrument he wanted to whip out he had an equally difficult time controlling as much as he did Maggie. The sexual attraction between them hadn’t cooled with the present danger. Rather, the more time he spent with Maggie, the more his need to mate grew. The encroaching full moon didn’t help, either.

  Why had he thought that his future mate would be as eager to acquiesce to his demands as the pack’s females? Nicolas had only to flick a finger and they scrambled to obey. Sexually jaded, he’d idly wished for a mate who would challenge him in bed and out.

  Now he feared his wish was granted. Her rock-solid stubbornness intrigued him. Frustrated him. She had the fight in her, but he must prove himself dominant. Never could he allow himself to become vulnerable. Weak. Weak Draicons were dangerous ones. He had to remain in control and strong.

  Fleeting thoughts of his past zipped through his mind. Nicolas tensed his muscles. There was no room in his life for compassion and emotions.

  He knew what was best for Maggie. He’d been Damian’s beta who ensured his leader’s commands were carried out. With Maggie at his side, he’d resume his position, and together they’d fight their enemies and defeat them.

  After teaching her to fight. He bit back a frustrated growl. The approach of the full moon and his own sexual frustration clawed at him. First he had to get her safe.

  His thoughts drifted to their destination. Before he’d left, Damian promised to send a pack member to the safe house in Melbourne. The home in Florida had a strong shield against Morphs. Homesickness washed over him. The pack member Damian sent had to be female, sympathetic and understanding in order to willingly associate with Nicolas. Perhaps it was motherly, single Katia who always babysat for other members. The female companionship would be good for Maggie. Katia could introduce the softer side of pack life to Maggie.

  Certainly he couldn’t. He was the pack’s fiercest killer. Nicolas felt the familiar frozen ice inside him. For once, he’d like to know the security of peace. He pushed aside the wistfulness. Such things were for females and other males. It was too late for him. He was Damian’s perfect killing machine and could expect nothing more.

  His Draicon senses on alert, he scanned the road. Urban concrete jungles faded, giving way to brush and trees, then water. The Everglades.

  Punching a button, he rolled down his window. Wind combed through his hair, kissed his cheek. He drew in a clean, fresh lungful, reveling in the sharp, refreshing smell.

  The two-lane highway cut across the Everglades like a knife slicing through cake. He’d specifically mapped out this route. Maggie might think their escape was happenstance. It wasn’t.

  Silence dripped between them. He thought about probing her mind, then abandoned the idea. He didn’t want to creep in there like an ant sneaking into…

  Shock slammed into him. Nicolas gripped the steering wheel. Dammit! How
could he be so careless? He’d forgotten in the rush… He scanned the windshield, the dashboard, looking for tiny invaders.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look around the inside for ants. I forgot to check the SUV for hitchhikers.” He blew out a breath. “They’ll probably be in the form of ants, but see any insect, kill it.”

  Maggie’s brow puckered in a frown he would have found adorable under normal circumstances. Then his supersensitive hearing picked it out. A tiny whine, like a mosquito. A fly buzzed toward the dashboard, smacked against the windshield as if testing for a way out.

  A decoy? Possibly, distracting him from the real invader.

  He tried listening for the whine, but heard only the fly’s insistent buzzing. Nicolas gestured to it. “Kill it, Maggie, before it can shift and kill us.”

  “It can’t be one of those things! It would have attacked us by now. It’s just an ordinary fly, trying to get out.” She pressed her window button. “Go away, little fellow.”

  Before he could react, the fly buzzed outside. Nicolas grit his teeth. When they stopped, he’d check the car.

  “You’re a cliché. You wouldn’t kill a fly. Morphs can also cloak themselves as fleas on your dog,” he snarled. “Do you kill fleas?”

  She gave a serene smile. “No, I don’t. Misha has never had a flea. I use natural remedies.”

  Training Maggie to kill would prove very tough.

  About halfway across the Everglades, Nicolas slowed, and pulled over along the grassy patch bordering the road’s northern side. Three cars were parked on the grass. People sat by the canal paralleling the highway. He parked a distance from the cars, including his target—a silver Chevy.

  Maggie’s huge blue eyes widened. “Why are we stopping now?”

  “We’re switching cars. This one has our scent all over it. I need to check it out, too, make sure we didn’t invite any intruders along. We’re going to change clothes as well.” He switched off the engine, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  A small intake of breath alerted him to her reaction. She stared at his chest the way he’d seen pack females eyeing him after he’d returned from a fight and needed a quick coupling. Her pink tongue moistened her wide, mobile mouth. His gaze locked to those lips, remembering their taste and texture beneath the urgent press of his own.

  Now wasn’t the time. But her reaction sent desire arrowing through him. Nicolas caught the scent of warm female skin. He wanted her. Flesh to flesh, skin against skin, her body soft and yielding beneath his. He wanted her so bad his whole body shook with the longing.

  If he didn’t take her soon, he’d lose control.

  Desire whipped him. The beast inside roared for release, to dominate and claim. Nicolas gave a soft growl as his hungry gaze swept over the pert thrust of her breasts against her shirt. Her gaze collided with his and he glimpsed her stark longing.

  “Nicolas…” Her voice was sultry and he doubted she even realized it.

  “Do as I say,” he said brusquely. “Get undressed.”

  ———

  I’d love to get naked with you. Oh, please. Yes…

  Oh, God! What the hell am I doing?!

  She’d been eyeballing him like a starving woman ogling steak. Flustered, Maggie flushed. Levelheaded Maggie, all right. What had happened to the woman who never even kissed on the first date? Now she was ready to climb all over Nicolas just because he removed his shirt. Sucking in a breath, she forced herself to look at his face.

  Nicolas couldn’t be trusted. She barely knew him.

  As if he sensed her mood change, he gave her a level look. He reached into the backseat and grabbed a bundle of clothing. “Put these on. They’re your size. Should fit.”

  At her blank stare he added, “Morphs have a highly developed sense of smell just as we do. This clothing is new.”

  Arousal fled. He planned this. How else could he know to buy her clothing? Hell, maybe he combed through her closet while she slept, scribbled down her size and orchestrated this whole thing. For all she knew, he might prove more dangerous than the creatures that had tried attacking her.

  “Not until you tell me what you plan on doing. Where are we going? Why? Who are you, exactly, and what do you want with me?”

  “Maggie, we don’t have the time now,” he insisted.

  “Information, Nicolas, I want information.”

  “Do as I say, caira. I’m pushing my limit.” A pulse leapt wildly in his neck.

  “What do you want with me? Maybe you’re after me for this new healing ability as much as those things were. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I’m the only one who stands between you and an army of Morphs who would kill you without hesitation. And I have to get you to safety before they find us. Now.” Nicolas clenched his jaw and held out his fist. “Give me your jeans, Maggie, or I’ll rip them off of you.” The glint in his eyes warned he might do it.

  “What are you?” she asked. “Why do I sense you deep in my mind? You found me, and it wasn’t serendipity.”

  “No,” he said, going still, his eyes searching her face. “All right, I’ll tell you what I am. After we get on the move and it’s safer. Sitting here, it’s easier for them to find us.”

  She sensed his iron control. What if he did want to keep her safe and failed? What would happen to Misha?

  Maggie glanced back at her beloved dog. Nicolas didn’t want her healing anyone yet. Tough luck. She kicked off her shoes, tugged at her shirt.

  Nicolas nodded in apparent approval and his fingers clasped his jeans zipper. Maggie’s gaze dropped to the bulge in the denim. She sucked in a breath. Her trembling hand reached out. A knowing smile touched his mouth.

  Stop it, stop it! Think, Maggie, think.

  She jerked her hand away, stared at the canal and a fishing family sitting on folding chairs at the canal’s edge. An older woman, hair tied back in a ponytail, gestured wildly at the tug on one line. Caught.

  Just like me. I’m like some kind of bait. Is he using me to reel in these things? Will I become a Maggie sacrifice for his purpose? And what of Misha?

  Nicolas hadn’t removed his jeans. Intensity radiated in his dark gaze.

  “Maggie, trust me. I would never use you to lure my enemies. Don’t be afraid. You need to change clothing. We have to get rid of anything the Morphs can use to track us.”

  She reached into the back for Misha and cradled the dog. “And what of her, Nicolas? Are you going to dump Misha into the canal because these things will track us through her?”

  “Maggie, I wouldn’t hurt her.”

  How could she trust him? Perhaps it was better to take her chances in the swamp.

  Nicolas shook his head slowly. “You’re not safe here. They’ll find and kill you. It’s you they want, Maggie. Not me. Take your chances in the swamp and watch out for the alligators. The Morphs will shift and assume their form as well.”

  His resigned expression stated it. You can’t trust anyone. I’m your only hope.

  Across the highway, a narrow limestone road cut through the thick brush. Maggie knew this area. She’d been here before on bird-watching expeditions. Alligators populated the miles of brackish water and razor-sharp sawgrass. In the tiny tree islands offering refuge from the swamp were poisonous cottonmouths and pygmy rattlers.

  Dangerous animals, yet they seemed tame compared to her current predicament. Where did she take her chances? With Nicolas or the creatures chasing them? Emotion clogged her throat.

  Dank water scents drifted through the open window. It pulled at her for some unfathomable reason. Maggie inhaled, wanting to run into the swamp’s sheltering arms. The Everglades urged her to run free like an uncaged animal.

  “You feel it, don’t you? The yearning to let yourself run wild,” Nicolas murmured.

  He slid a warm palm over her neck. Maggie shivered at his touch, the pull increasing as he gently caressed her. She fought it. Somehow Nicolas sensed her thoughts. Learning toward
her, he looked intense. Strong and muscular, solid as a stone wall.

  Stone walls could be toppled.

  Thoughts of her dog’s pain blocked her intentions. Maggie stroked Misha’s head.

  “She’s in pain, Nicolas. So much pain. I need to give her something.”

  Sympathy entered his gaze. Maggie steeled herself against it and reached into the glove box. Inside, she kept hypodermics and animal tranquilizer. On weekends she rescued frightened and angry strays.

  The medicine would go to good use now.

  Removing the protective plastic cap with her teeth, she filled the syringe with a large dose of diazepam. Maggie murmured soothingly to her pet, then handed her to Nicolas.

  “Let her lie on your lap while I give her this,” she instructed.

  As expected, his concentration shifted to Misha. Maggie lifted the syringe.

  She jammed the needle into the base of Nicolas’s neck and depressed the plunger.

  A fierce howl rumbled from his chest. His body went stiff. Nicolas turned with a snarl, eyes wild, fingers curled like attacking claws. Maggie shrieked and grabbed Misha and opened the door.

  Just then the drug kicked in. Nicolas slumped over the seat. Maggie kicked the door shut and bolted. Heart pounding, she raced across the highway, causing a car to brake hard. Burnt rubber filled her nostrils. Maggie reached the abandoned limestone road. She followed it into the swamp as the brush gave way to sharp sawgrass.

  A bay head rose above the swamp like an island. Maggie’s Everglades experiences taught her that the thicket of trees and brush offered protection from the heat. Best if all, it offered a good hiding place. She began wading through the ankledeep water. Smells assaulted her senses, the clean scent of water, the stronger smell of small animals. Sawgrass sliced her arms as she curled them protectively around her dog. Her sneakers squished the periphyton algae covering the ground. Odd how the Everglades amplified her senses. Hearing and smell sharpened. Tree frogs chirped in the distance. Overhead, an egret crackled. Maggie caught the faint scent of a deer.