Chosen by Desire (27 page)

“Maybe not, but I had a feeling about him.”

“Well, stop having feelings. It’s over.” Even she heard the sullenness in her tone.

“You’re so rigid sometimes. You need to learn to go with the flow. I don’t understand how a daughter of mine could be so
repressed.
” She said it like it was a curse. “But you know I love you unconditionally, even if you throw away these chances for happiness in pursuit of your career.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “This is the twenty-first century, Mom. Women’s careers are important.”

“Love is important,” her mom replied with fervent belief. “You can have both.”

“You didn’t.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back.

“Is that what this is about?” her mom asked quietly. “You think I made a mistake marrying your father?”

“No, of course not.” She just didn’t understand how someone could give up her dreams and live an ordinary life the way her mom did. Love led her astray, in Carrie’s opinion. “It’s just…”

“That I gave up the chance to be a famous doctor just to be an acupuncturist?”

The words hung heavy in the silence. Carrie mentally groaned. “Mom, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a darned fine healer. I’m still answering my calling, but I enjoy a freedom I wouldn’t have had as a doctor.” Her mom exhaled deeply and then continued just as passionately. “Honey, life isn’t cut-and-dried. Sometimes the road you’re on isn’t the only one that’s right. And certainly no road is worth it without love.”

She started to argue that, but then she pictured herself, teaching at Cal, alone except for her research books, and shut her mouth.

“I’m sending you a romance novel I read. Maybe it’ll inspire you.”

Carrie smiled. “As long as you leave the vibrator out.”

“Promise me if your Max comes back to you you’ll treat it like a sign and give it a real try. Leave your fears and really give it a go.”

“He’s not my Max, and he’s not coming back.”

“Promise,” her mom ordered like a drill sergeant.

“I promise,” she said with a sigh, only because she was positive he’d already be on a plane bound for China. “Mom, I’m sorry I implied you weren’t great.”

“I’m not sorry.” The sureness in her mom’s voice bolstered her. “They were your feelings, and you had the right to express them. They would have festered otherwise.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, honey. I’ll talk to you soon,” her mom said before hanging up.

Carrie flipped her phone closed. “That sounded ominous.”

She hoped her mom wouldn’t be too crushed when Max didn’t show up. If he did, it’d be because he decided he needed to off her to keep her quiet.

She snorted and got up. She had to put this place back together. Then she had to figure out how she was going to salvage her thesis.

It took well into the evening to pull her apartment into some semblance of order. By the time she finished, all she wanted was bed, which was fitted with a messily patched futon mattress and clean, just washed sheets.

But first… She pulled her laptop out of her bag. She needed to e-mail Leonora, to let her know she’d returned as well as set up a meeting to let her know that she’d lost her main documentation in linking Yongle to the Scrolls of Destiny.

Reaching into her suitcase, she rifled for her power supply. Her hand brushed something smooth, something that felt remarkably like—

Frowning, she yanked the bag open wider.

Sitting on the bottom right next to a pair of dirty jeans was one innocuous-looking scroll.

M
ax stood outside Carrie’s apartment building, stunned. Horrified. Angry. Slums like this were common all over the world, but he’d never pictured that she’d live in one. Someone all sweetness and light belonged surrounded by lush gardens and chirpy little animals.

Stepping around a man passed out on the street, he went to the door and looked through the directory listing.
C. Woods 413.
He pressed her number into the old intercom.

It took a moment before her voice responded. “Yes?”

“Buzz me up.”

Silence.

He knew she recognized his voice, and as soon as he thought it he knew she’d call him arrogant for thinking so. No, without a doubt he knew her dilemma was whether or not to let him back into her life. If she opened the door, it’d be telling.

She had to let him in.

The door buzzed.

Max pushed it open before she changed her mind. The stale stench of urine hit him as soon as he entered the lobby. Jaw clenched, he took the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor.

Her door was ajar, and he was glad to see that she had sense enough to keep the chain hooked. He rapped on the plywood.

Her face popped immediately in the crack. She stared at him for a long, heart-stopping moment. He drank in her beautiful eyes and—God—that lush mouth. The desire to reclaim it overwhelmed him, and he had to clench his hands to keep from shoving his way in and devouring her.

He waited for her to say something. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Anger. Coldness. Something, but not the blankness she greeted him with.

She undid the chain and let him in. “Did you come to kill me?”

He recoiled. “Of course not.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She shrugged casually, but the way she fingered the edge of her sweater gave away her nervousness. “The most logical reason for you to come here the day after I left is that you realized you need to off me in order to keep the Book of Water a secret.”

“Off you?” He shouldn’t have been surprised when she stepped back to avoid touching him, but it caused a pang nonetheless. “That’s overly mobster, don’t you think?”

“Seemed the most logical reason you’d be here.” Shrugging again, she closed the door and dead bolted it.

Something in his chest squeezed, watching the slight shake in her hand. “Does it?”

“For all I know, you’re the monastery’s enforcer. So, yeah. I know about the Book of Water, after all.”

“I trust you.” He blinked, surprised he said that. More surprised to realize that he meant it.

She shifted uncomfortably and waved to her left. “Have a seat. I was just making myself some tea. Can I get you some?”

He didn’t want any damn tea. He wanted her back in his arms. But he nodded politely and, taking off his coat, sat where she indicated.

She disappeared into the nook he supposed was her kitchen, and he took the opportunity to look around. Her apartment was more barren than he’d imagined, and tattered around the edges. He’d expected heaps of stacked books covering every surface, considering the way she’d surrounded herself with them at his house. There were a couple on the table in front of him, but otherwise the space was spartan.

He sat down, staring at the shabby, stitched-together futon like it could tell him what the story was here.

“Here you go. Sorry, my fancy china had a mishap.” She thrust a travel mug at him and sat on the other side of the makeshift table. Cradling a plastic cup between her hands, she gazed cautiously at him. “So why are you here?”

“I came for you.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’d never hurt you.” He rubbed a hand over his neck. “I can’t believe you’d think that.”

She studied him, her gaze strangely guarded. It used to be open. He’d done that to her.

“You want me to finish the translation?” she asked.

“No.” He frowned. “Well, yes, if that’s what you want. But that’s not why I came.”

“Maybe you should just come out and say why you’re here.”

“I want you.” When he saw that she waited for more, he punctuated it with, “Period.”

He thought he saw relief in her expression, but she lowered her gaze to her cup before he could be sure. When she looked up, there was only determination. “Why?” she demanded. “You want sex?”

“No.” He scowled. “Well, yes. But that’s not the main reason.”

“Then why?” She stood up, her tea sloshing over the side. She hissed, waving her hand. Setting the cup down on the table, she started to pace. “You already said you won’t kill me. I can’t imagine what other reason you could have.”

Panic rose up his throat, such a foreign emotion he almost choked. He could feel himself losing her, but for the first time in his life he couldn’t think of how to fix it. He couldn’t pull connections, and his powers were useless.

It left truth.

He reached for her burned hand, pressed it between his, and willed the coolness of his metal to soothe her skin. Gazing at her steadily, he urged her to see his honesty. “I regret how I handled you.”

She stared at him.

Did she hear him? Was he too late?

But then she exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “I know you do.”

He frowned. “You do?”

“You couldn’t help yourself.”

“I couldn’t?” What was this? Reverse psychology?

“Not given your past.”

“My past?” he repeated, letting go of her hand.

“With, you know, that woman. And Rhys.”

He stiffened. “What do you know about Rhys?”

“Not much, actually. He didn’t really pass on much information at all. Except about that woman that set him up.” She pursed her lips. “He might have said she was a bitch, but I think I just inferred that on my own.”

“You talked with Rhys?” His scar stung, as if his skin was blistering from fire all over again.

“No, I talked to Gabe. Gabe is his girlfriend, remember?” Her brow furrowed, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t. Of all the things he’d expected to discuss, Rhys and that night seven years ago wasn’t one of them. “I’m fine.”

The worried expression on her face didn’t dissipate. She gently encouraged him back to the couch, sitting down next to him with her legs curled under her. “Gabe gave me a short synopsis of what happened, and as soon as I heard it I knew you couldn’t help distrusting me. You were burned badly.”

He ran his hand over the ridges, wanting to laugh at the irony of her words.

Her gaze followed the motion of his hand.

She couldn’t know the significance of the scar, but he wanted her to understand. He calmed his energy and said, “When I was seventeen I went to the monastery. One of the monks there had a reputation for knowing the ancient arts, and I wanted to study with him. Rhys had the same idea. We were fast friends. Like brothers.”

She nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“We lived at the monastery for years before we reentered the world. Rhys was always attracted by power. He wanted the affluence I’d always taken for granted. It sometimes came between us.” He set the mug down and steepled his hands in front of him. “I knew he’d do whatever it took to rise to the top, but I never realized how far he’d go.”

“How far did he go?” Carrie asked, wide-eyed.

“He used Amanda, the woman you referred to, to try to steal from me. Amanda worked for me as my curator, but we became involved.”

Her face paled. “Oh, God.”

He nodded, knowing the parallel between her and Amanda wasn’t lost on her. “I had something Rhys wanted. He realized Amanda was the way to get it and manipulated her into stealing it from me.”

“What—”

He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her he was a Guardian until he knew where she stood. That would endanger her. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I caught her and Rhys red-handed, trying to break into my personal safe. Rhys and I fought.” He ran a hand over the scar Rhys had left him with. “Amanda got caught in the middle and was wounded. Badly. She died on the way to the hospital.”

Carrie gasped.

“Being betrayed by the one person in the world I’d ever trusted, that I loved, cut deep.”

“Amanda?” she asked softly.

“Amanda?
No.
” Amanda had just been a pawn. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like exactly. “Rhys. He was the brother I’d never had. By virtue of what we were, he understood me better than anyone, and he used that to try to increase his personal power.”