Immortal Flame (9 page)

Bursts of pleasure percolated through her core. She'd never been this close to a man before. After her boyfriend's death years ago, she'd never allowed herself any intimacy for fear of more visions. What in the world had she been missing all these years? As her libido erupted into flames beneath Peter's heated hands, Allison had the intense desire to make up for lost time. Now.

He tugged on the hem of her scrub top, exposing her sensitive skin. His fingers trailing over her abdomen made her shiver, but not with cold.

Ivy jumped up and ran to the door, barking.

Disoriented, as though she'd been plunged into frigid water, Allison clutched at Peter's shoulders.

His arms tightened, he shoved her shirt down, and covered her with his body.

She followed his scan of the room until it rested on the living room window, where a shadowed figure darted away.

Snarling a curse, Peter flew off of her and ran to the front door.

When she joined him, he grabbed her arm, yanking her behind him, his face contorted with fury. His back muscles bunched beneath her hands.

He reached for the door handle. “Stay inside.”

Ivy jumped and spun in a circle next to them.

“Ivy! Sit.” Allison pointed at the floor and her dog reluctantly obeyed. “What's going on?” she whispered. Her heart pounded and not just from fear.

He shushed her at the crunch of quick footsteps growing fainter on the gravel outside the house. “Please”—he pressed on her shoulders—“stay here.”

He flung open the door and, faster than was humanly possible, sprinted down the driveway and onto the road.

Ivy's giant tail eagerly beat the floor, ready for more fun.

She stared at her dog. “The heck I'm staying inside.”

Ivy gave a happy bark, ready for a new adventure. Allison snapped on Ivy's leash and the two of them jogged down the driveway, searching the area for anything abnormal. A cold chill shot down her spine. Who had been at her house? She'd always felt safe out here. Until now.

In the distance, a car engine revved and gravel scattered. As she turned down the long dirt lane that led from her house to the main road, she spied a figure at the end of the lane. Her heart thudded as she glanced over her shoulder. How quickly could she reach the house?

The figure jogged toward her, and her senses tingled. Ivy yipped, tail wagging.

Peter.

When he reached her, Peter came to a dead stop, his fists clenched, face red, rage oozing from every inch of him. “I told you to stay in the house,” he said. He wasn't even out of breath.

“I had my security system with me.” She motioned toward Ivy, who sat at Allison's side, her tail raising small puffs of dirt with each enthusiastic thump.

He looked up at the sky. “What would she do? Lick the intruder to death?”

“Hmmph. You'd be surprised at how Ivy takes care of me. She seems to know good people from bad.”

“That won't keep you alive,” he growled. “Let's get back to your house.”

His grasp on her upper arm generated warmth deep in Allison's gut. Low-level images of the faces from Peter's mind intruded again, and she tamped them down exactly as he'd taught her. Her mind cleared enough to focus on the here and now. Funny, the blocking mechanism worked with less concentration this time. Was this skill universal or isolated to her connection with Peter?

“I have to find out who that guy was,” he said.

“Did you see him?”

“No, he took off before I could see the license plate on the car, but I got a brief glimpse of the man. I wonder if he was a guy I saw around town the other day.”

“How could you remember one person?”

“Well, I was looking—”

She yanked her arm away. “Looking?”

“I was just looking around.” He didn't meet her gaze.

When they arrived back at her house, Peter tensed again as he scanned the area.

“What is it?” she asked as they approached the front window.

“See these footprints?”

“Kind of.” She could barely make out the indentations.

“They belong to someone maybe around my size. But see how deep the impressions are? Solid guy. And I presume he's all muscle by the way he took off.”

Allison shivered and rubbed her chilled arms.

He put his hand on her arm again. “Let's get you inside. It's cool out.”

She spun away. “No. Peter,
what
are you?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Can we talk inside?”

“No.” She crossed her arms. Even Ivy sat down, refusing to budge.

Peter groaned.

“I'm not letting you back inside unless you tell me how you moved so quickly.”

Hopefully he wouldn't call her bluff. With his bizarre strength and speed, he could get past her and into the house in two seconds flat if he so desired.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark brown hair. Still as a statue, he finally responded. “It might be easier if I showed you.”

Her heart sped up as she gamely followed him to the edge of the woods near her house. Was this a colossal mistake? Ivy liked Peter, so that was something. Her dog had pretty good instincts. Hopefully, her own instincts were correct as well.

• • •

They reached a stand of pine trees behind Allie's house. One dead ponderosa pine had fallen and now leaned against the other trees. When Peter wrapped his arms around the trunk, his hands didn't quite meet.
Should be about right
.

Suddenly, he stopped, frozen in place by doubt. Should he proceed with this unnerving demonstration? Strange, he'd never been self-conscious before. Damn it, he wanted more of this woman. More of her light spirit, her soft and sexy kisses. This display had the potential to rip apart what fragile threads tied them together.

Could he lie to her?

Never
.

Decision made.

“I've never shown anyone what I can do. So could you stand over there, away from this area?”

He indicated a spot midway between the copse of trees and her house, and Allie and Ivy moved away, neither taking their eyes off him.

Trapped again. Only now it was a freakish show-and-tell gone sideways. Barnaby had said to let the Ward know what he was, but this couldn't be the right thing to do, could it? Besides, Allie had managed fine without full disclosure up until now.

Well, hell. Let's get this damn circus over and be done with it
.

He hauled the trunk out of the ground, breaking off thick roots in the process, and dropped the tree with a deafening crash. The sound reverberated in the cold morning air until dead silence remained.

Even Ivy's ever-moving tail stilled. Allie stood like a statue, her fair skin pallid. At least she remained standing.

Grimly, he returned to the bizarre exhibition.

Snapping off a sharp branch, he dashed over to Allie, all in the space of a millisecond. He presented his bare forearm and gouged a gash down his arm. When she gasped and stepped forward, he held up a hand. Like with all injuries, even though the wound hurt like hell, his skin began to knit back together after mere seconds. Her horrified green stare gutted him. But he wasn't done yet.

Sprinting back to the tree, he braced the middle portion of the trunk against a rock. Then he brought his foot down, shattering the trunk with an ear-splitting explosion. After repeating the action six feet up the tree, he'd freed up a good 400 pounds of trunk. Glancing again at Allie, her eyes like giant green saucers, he heaved the trunk to the other side of the clearing, a hundred yards away.

He took a few deep breaths and brushed off his hands.

Well, that's that. Indebted freak show over. Should be obvious I'm not human
.

He turned around.

Allie was gone.

Peter caught a flash of light blue fabric disappearing around the corner of the house, and he took off at a sprint, intercepting Allie at the front porch. She backed away, mouth agape. Her fear would've broken his heart, if he had one left.

“What the heck?” she said, flashing eyes that blamed him without saying a word.

He flinched away until his anger flared, fanned by the years of his own hatred. He didn't need to see the horror on her face to know what a monster he'd become. Damn it all, he'd put himself out there, trusted her, and showed her his abilities. Did he really expect her complete acceptance? How naïve could he be?

Her chest heaved. She breathed too quickly. “I trusted you! I let you in my house. You could've—”

When she lunged toward the door, he reached out to steady her.

She recoiled and cowered against the doorjamb.

Not for the first time in his miserable life, he hated who he was. The horror on her beautiful face, her eyebrows raised and tears shimmering, reminded him that he existed only to bring pain to others. His despair ballooned to ungodly proportions.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Should he touch her or keep his distance? Damn it, her suffering was his fault. His hands dropped.

She touched her lips. “Oh my gosh, you, we almost—” The moisture in her eyes shoved him back to reality.

He had to keep her safe. Forever.

What the hell? Where did “forever” come from? The realization blew him away. He needed her. Needed her to accept him. Needed her to … what? To hang out together? To date? Not until he accomplished the Meaningful Kill, and progress in that area didn't look promising. But if it meant a possible future with Allie, he'd redouble his efforts for the Meaningful Kill. If only he could figure out how.

“You have to believe me, Allie,” he said. “I would never cause you harm. Nothing could ever make me hurt you.”

When she shivered in the cool air, he fought the compulsion to wrap her in his arms and warm her body.

With a weak laugh, she said, “You know, the visions of death I got from you, they made sense in a weird way. Because of my gift, I accepted what I saw as par for my crazy life, you know? But seeing what you can actually
do
puts those images in a new light. I shouldn't have ever started this process with you today. It was a mistake.” She took a shuddering breath. “Look, I know you're capable of doing whatever you want to do.” Her expressive eyes pierced his soul. “But I'm asking you to leave.”

With her back against the door, she stood up straight, so small and brave, even knowing what Peter could do.

Damn it, he could take anything he desired by sheer force. He could take her. But even when he was human, he had never imposed himself on any woman, and he sure wasn't about to start now.

He scrubbed at his jaw and backed away, one step, then another. Leaving her here was the hardest thing he'd done in a long time. The physical distance between them created a strange vacuum in his chest, an echo that kept trying to reach out to connect, even as the distance increased.

Ivy whined and put her head on Allie's hip.

Allie grasped the front door handle, not taking her eyes off him. Maybe she thought being in the house would protect her from something like him. Hell, he could rip the door off the hinges with one hand. Despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to go after her, he would not intrude.

He loathed the terror in her eyes.

Waving Ivy into the house, she stood stiffly at the half-opened door. “Thank you for helping me block all this.” She waved toward her head. “And for trying to find whoever was outside my house. Thank you.”

“Allie, I swear I'll never harm you. You have to believe me.”

Her shoulders slumped as her knuckles whitened on the edge of the door.

He nearly lost his resolve to give her space. “I want you safe. That's a promise.”

Without saying a word, she closed the door with a click, followed by the dull clunk of the deadbolt.

Maybe he'd made a mistake in showing her how to block the visions. What if the big boss found out? What would happen to a mortal who knew about their kind? Barnaby's friend, Susan, knew years ago and she survived. Was it because they hadn't told anyone? Peter's head spun. He had to keep Allie safe until he figured out what to do, and before an innocent got hurt.

Collateral damage was not an option.

Regrets aside, deep down, he'd help her all over again, even if it led to this same rejection. Her soft lips haunted him, and he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers, smell her scent of fresh, mountain air. Even now, he had a faint connection to her, filled with anguish that, of course, was his fault.

Peter went wherever death was required, wherever his assignments mandated. This gentle woman had complicated his assignment. On top of discovering and killing his target, he now needed to keep Allie safe from whatever had been lurking outside her house.

Hell
.

His cell phone rang, jarring him as he got into his truck. He groaned when he saw the number.

“Dante.”

He turned the ignition and backed out of Allie's driveway.

“How's it going in La Grind?”

The only thing Dante liked more than killing and sex was bad puns. “Not that great, thanks for asking. Why're you calling?”

“Can't a guy call and check on his brother?”

Peter turned onto the country road and headed back to La Grande. “Sure, but I'm not your brother and you never call to check on me.”

“Just seeing how you and that pretty doctor are doing.”

“We're not. I'm trying to finish this assignment.”

“Don't believe you. I can hear it in your voice, bro.”

Hearing a three-time centenarian like Dante use slang always made Peter grin. The 1960s had been particularly frustrating, as Dante's vocabulary had relied heavily on colloquialisms such as “groovy” and “far out,” warped at times by his friend's Swedish accent.

But it damn sure wasn't funny enough to continue with this conversation. It was time to bring up Dante's favorite topic: Dante.