“Smartass,” Roarke muttered. “So how many abilities are you
up to now, super freak?”
Romy shrugged.
Roarke glared. “Spill. Last I heard, it was six.”
“Yeah, around that.” It was more like eight, but he didn’t
like counting. Every time Romy tried something new, he found to his amazement a
capacity to handle more and more
psychei
—that universal energy inherent
in all things, but especially in Otra. The humans called it extrasensory
perception. Not a bad definition, but it couldn’t encompass that whole mass of
seething energy that tingled in the air.
Roarke stared. “Does Dad know?”
“Some. I had to bribe Z to keep him quiet.” His older
brother gleefully threatened to tell their father about Romy’s abilities.
Apparently his siblings thought he’d gotten away with too much in his younger
years and now needed to be babysat by their father. “And before you ask, Val’s
so caught up in Rowe and his little Iris that he hasn’t had time to bother with
me in a few months.” Romy eyed the hallway through which Jamie had passed. “You
ought to pay more attention to your wife. Another child would give me a nice
break.” He glanced back at his brother and stared hard at the aura dancing
around Roarke’s head. A vision of a sweet baby boy greeted him. “Ah. Yeah,
that’s a stellar idea. Name this one after me, why don’t you?”
Roarke blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Go bug your wife and you’ll find out in another nine
months. She’s fertile and you’re reflecting her need.”
“Not that I understood a lot you just said, but hot damn.”
Roarke’s smile grew and stayed. “Another boy, huh? Guess that means I’ll just
have to keep at the poor woman until I get a girl.”
Romy laughed. “Go play with Jamie and leave me be. I need
some rest before I dig into Port Chase and our self-proclaimed savior, Jonah
Trotter.”
“‘Savior’. Yeah, right. I’m telling you, Trotter stinks. The
Barkins weren’t doing too badly in Port Chase. But Trotter’s numbers are too
high for such a depressed area in Florida, and for only being there six months.
No way he could have that kind of turnaround. Something’s wrong. I don’t
understand why Dad still won’t look into it.”
“Me either, so keep this between us, okay? Just let me do
what I’m meant to and everything will turn out fine.”
“Quit with the predictions and meant-to crap. You’re
freaking me out.”
“Doesn’t take much,” Romy muttered.
“I heard that.” Roarke tried to smother another grin. “Go
lay down. You look like death warmed over. Another three hours and we’ll dock
in Waverly.”
Waverly, a nice town a few hours from Port Chase. “Good
call. But make use of the time you have on board. Jamie’s looking pretty good,
bro.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You know, it’s not too late to try making a
gifted Otra. I’m game.” His brother had mated a human, and being half human,
Roarke didn’t need another Otra to help impregnate his wife. Still, a guy could
hope.
Roarke growled. “I’m human enough to enjoy my wife by
myself, thanks.”
“You know where I’ll be if you change your mind…” He agilely
avoided a blow to the stomach and laughed his way down the narrow hall to his
berth. It really was too bad Roarke and Jamie adhered to the more mundane human
customs of mating. One man, one woman.
His half brother had inherited more of his human mother’s
genes than their Otra father’s. Though Shea had only given birth to Roarke, all
of the Talson men loved her beyond reason. The fact she’d produced Roarke, a
son with
psychei
, which wasn’t at all common among those with mixed Otra
blood, spoke of her own powerful energy. His father had found a true mate after
the loss of his beloved first wife. Blessed in love and life.
Once in his room, Romy lay down on his narrow bed and closed
his eyes, contemplating his own future. Like his older brothers Val and Z, he’d
always figured to find an Otra female when he entered The Testing—the time in a
male Otra’s life when he readied to mate. Then another male, his
eda
,
would join him. The pair would bond psychically and make love with the woman,
clearing the path for Romy’s
psychei
and his seed so a true joining with
his new mate could occur.
Z had been lucky to have Val as his
eda
. Val had
found Quinn, another capable male to protect and facilitate the growth of his
family. His brothers had been gifted with love and luck with their
edas
and their destined mates—their
irius
. Would that Romy could be so
fortunate.
He’d had no dreams, no prognostications of his future. His
powers often chased themselves inside him, making living normally a real
stretch. He used so much of his energy controlling his odd gifts that at times
just breathing felt like a trial. Pyrokinesis, telepathy, telekinesis, the
power of command, preternatural strength and sensing, not to mention the rest…
Wondrous abilities if taken separately, a nightmare if taken together.
Closing his eyes, he forced his talent to subside and
eventually relaxed into a light slumber.
His hands slid over silky skin, the glide of water both
cooling and welcoming. The extreme heat made him catch his breath, and he
realized the outside temperature meant summer neared. Had he reached Port Chase
already?
“No,” a husky female voice answered. His fingers again
slid over her stomach, the bar of rose-scented soap in his hand trailing
bubbles over a flat belly and lower, toward a smooth triangle of flesh devoid
of hair.
Interested and aroused, he reached for the surprising
treasure and heard the woman sigh when his fingers sought and found her warm
sex. Her clitoris was plump, and as he fingered her, it grew fuller, harder.
The moisture between her thighs mixed with the cool water, making her nipples
bead. He realized he could see everything from her neck down.
The sight of her pebbled nipples and creamy breasts made
them both groan.
“You like this?” he asked, thrusting a finger inside her
while he toyed with her breasts. But as he worked her, he realized his hands
were smaller, cleaner, with short pink nails and two silver rings on his
forefinger.
A woman’s hand?
“More,” she murmured.
He sensed she felt drugged on her lust and as pleasantly
confused as he was. But when a gloriously naked woman requested more, an Otra
didn’t disappoint.
He returned to her nipples and caressed the buds while he
delved inside her warm, welcoming pussy with faster and deeper thrusts. Another
finger added firmer pressure on her clit. He wanted very badly to kiss her, to
taste her exotic seduction and feel the silk of her parted lips.
The scent of need mingled with the tightening of
his—her—body. She cried out and the waves splashed over the side of the tub.
Her sex gripped his fingers—no, her fingers—and flooded him with bone-deep
contentment as he pulsed…
He blinked awake and groaned as he finished
coming inside his trousers, making an absolute mess of himself.
Breathing hard, Romy stared at the sterile ceiling,
wondering what the hell his spontaneous ejaculation meant. He’d come hard after
touching a female, after watching her—or was that him?—touch herself.
Confused and out of breath, he tried to reason out this
particular circumstance and found he had neither the energy nor the desire to
make sense of a thrilling, extremely pleasurable wet dream.
After cleaning himself, he fell back asleep with the name
Tara
echoing through his mind.
Chapter Two
Tara splashed water all over the floor, panting and staring
unseeingly at the open shutters before her. A shadow obscured the sunlight
filtering through the bathroom window then disappeared. Moments later, a knock
sounded at her front door.
Her senses cleared, and with a rush of embarrassment Tara
realized she’d just brought herself to orgasm in front of an open window
through which anyone might have seen her. Her face felt on fire and she wanted
to disappear. God, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d even wanted
sex. What just happened? But the banging on her door wouldn’t let her ignore
her visitor. Hastily rising, she slapped the shutters over the window, threw on
her robe and dripped across the floor to the front door.
“Hold on a minute!” She tightened the belt of her robe,
prayed nothing but clouds had blotted out the sunlight a few moments ago, and
opened the door. The minute she looked through and saw Jonah Trotter, she knew
she’d hoped in vain. What a mistake not to ignore all that banging.
“Good morning,” he murmured with appreciation, his black
eyes skimming her frame with appreciation. His full lips curled invitingly, and
she couldn’t help noting the muscle and strength in his bearing. Today he wore
blue slacks, a tailored yellow shirt and platinum cuff links. Not a strand of
his shiny, professionally cut, thick black hair looked out of place.
Whereas she must have looked like a drowned rat. Life wasn’t
fair.
The way he stared at her told her he’d been the one watching
her through the bathroom window. Her face grew hotter.
Oh God, just let me
burst into spontaneous flame right now. This is so embarrassing.
“Can I help you?” She sounded rude, but she didn’t care.
She’d never liked Trotter, and his stare felt like bugs creeping all over her.
Despite his obvious appeal, she reacted to him on a primitive, deeper level.
The malicious nature at his core bothered the hell out of her. She wanted
nothing more than to put distance between them.
“Invite me in and we’ll…talk.” His deep voice echoed between
them. The cadence and pitch sounded off, and she didn’t like the sly look on
his face.
She frowned. “Tell me what you want or get the hell off my
property.”
He stared at her in bemusement, but when he spoke again, it
was in a decidedly softer voice. “I’m sorry. I was wondering if you’d seen a
friend of mine. Sheila Farel?”
Good for you, Sheila. You finally listened.
“You mean
the woman who used to sew a few doors down? The one your wonder drugs
thoroughly screwed over?”
Trotter’s easy expression darkened, and his handsome face
grew sinister as he stepped closer to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about. I run Talson Shipping in Port Chase. A completely legitimate enterprise,
nothing more. What’s this about drugs?”
She huffed. “Yeah, right. Look, Trotter. I’m not stupid. I
may look it for living here, but that’s my business. I want you and the bozos
working for you to keep away from me and my property. Or the next time you step
on my front door, I’ll use the Norton 57 my brother gave me for Christmas last
year.” A very illegal gun, just mention of it was usually enough to scare away
most intruders.
Trotter narrowed his gaze and took a prudent step back,
whether at mention of the gun or her brother, she wasn’t sure. “Do tell Killer
I send my regards.”
As if I’ll mention this bastard to my brother
.
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry to have
upset you.” His gaze lingered on her breasts outlined by her now-sodden robe,
then slid down her legs. “I’d like nothing but to become better friends.”
“I have all the friends I need. Take off, or the next time I
won’t be so nice.”
He maintained a grin though his jaw tightened. “I’m leaving
now. But I’ll be back. And one of these days, we’ll talk about your lack of
social graces. I’d be more than happy to help you polish them.”
She waited for it. He never left without pushing his agenda.
“And remember, if you’re ever in the market to sell, please
consider Talson Shipping first. I’ll leave my card in your box.” Along with the
other twenty he’d sent or dropped off.
She watched Trotter deposit the card then go, glad to see
the back end of the jerk. Around sick and injured people, she felt centered,
calm, controlled. She felt…nice. But around Trotter and his ilk, her inner
bitch always had her way. Nothing pleasant or complimentary managed to pass her
lips when in his presence.
Despite her nonsensical, self-appointed role as neighborhood
savior, when not healing, she had no problem with thoughts of causing harm.
I’m
definitely no doctor.
A small breeze lifted the hem of her robe and she
shivered despite the humidity. After closing the door and locking it, she
headed back to the bathroom for a towel to finish drying off. She still
couldn’t believe she’d masturbated in full view of her open window, and she
hadn’t realized she’d been doing it.
Romec appeared with a mouse in his mouth and grinned at her
as he jumped onto the window ledge. He pawed the shutters apart then leapt
outside with his prize. At least she had one less rodent to bother her.
She closed and locked the window and drew the shutters once
more, bathing the room in darkness. Her gaze shifted to the tub still full of
water. What on earth had happened to her in that tub? She hadn’t felt horny or
tense this morning. So why had she played with herself like a pleasure toy? And
why the hell did she feel as though a man had been running his hands over her
body?
Shivering again, she unstopped the tub, dressed in her
bedroom in shorts and a tank top, and began working.
By lunchtime, her stomach rumbled enough to start a small
war. She left the half-painted canvas where it stood in her studio—the small
second bedroom too small to house a bed—and fixed a sandwich with a promise to
herself not to skip breakfast tomorrow.
While eating, her thoughts again strayed to the strange
incident from this morning. The bathtub notwithstanding, she had to think about
what Trotter’s visit to her house really meant. Last night he’d purposefully
exposed himself to Tara with Sheila. He’d also wanted Sheila to grab her
statue.