Between Light and Dark (3 page)

A swift gust rustled the leaves around her feet and made
the tall oaks and fragrant pine trees sway in a macabre dance.
It would rain soon; the air had a metallic scent she could
almost taste.

"Laurell."

She thought she heard a man's voice call to her, distant,
urgent. She glanced around the empty graveyard. No one there but the ghosts of her dead ancestors. Her mind had to
be playing tricks on her. Graveyards were spooky places to
hang out alone.

This would be the last time she'd visit Graves Manor for
a while. Tomorrow she'd go home and start hunting for a
new job. She could only live off her meager savings for so
long. And school would start up again in a couple of weeks.
She was only her thesis away from obtaining her master's
degree in religion. Once she finished ... who knew? At
least she'd be the one to decide.

A drop of moisture skimmed her forehead. Then another. Time to go. She stood, brushing leaves and dirt from
her jeans.

"Laurell." This time, the call came more clearly. Who
had found her here? Abrams? Had he come back to make
yet another plea for her to take her mother's money? God,
she hoped not. It was getting to be annoying.

She opened her backpack and stuffed her grandmother's
book inside, then slung it over one shoulder. A shiver whispered over her skin. The look of the graveyard was beginning to get to her, all shadows and half-light.

She started along the winding brick path back toward
Graves Manor, where her little Honda waited, gassed and
ready for the long journey back to Florida.

The house loomed in the distance, peeking between an
opening in the oaks. Laurell was about to call out to Abrams
when a man appeared in the clearing. She stopped in her
tracks. Not Abrams.

This man was tall and dark haired and wore a midnight
blue double-breasted suit. Who was he?

There it was again. The same strange tingling she'd
experienced before had returned in full force. Next came a
massive outbreak of goose bumps. She shook her arms hop ing to erase the bizarre sensation, but the feeling only
strengthened.

The man strode toward her and halted ten feet away. He
stared, but said nothing. The sensations increased, pulsing
through Laurell like an electric current. Her heart fluttered, and her stomach clamped down with such force, she
regretted her hastily devoured lunch. Every nerve ending in
her body sang with a need unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

Her muscles twitched with the effort to move, but she
couldn't budge an inch. An irrational longing washed over
her. She ached to be naked and skin to skin with the man.
She struggled to push the urge away, but it persisted.

What's happening? Why can't I move? Panic surged, but before it could reach its peak, a rabid desire ate through her
anxiety.

The man's body tensed, his hands clenched into fists.
Was he experiencing the same sensations as she?

A moment later, Laurell's paralysis broke. Her legs
moved of their own accord. She ran toward the man, eager
to touch him. Stop! Her brain protested. Go! Her body ignored the plea.

She came to an abrupt halt in front of him, her hands on
his chest and her face turned upward. He grasped her arms.
His eyes, deep and gray as the autumn sky, glittered into her
own. She drank in the sight of him. Thick black hair curled
over his brow. The chiseled planes of his face and the soft
curve of his lips, almost too pretty for a man, left her transfixed. One of her fantasies had come to full, glorious life. He
stood at least six foot three, towering over her five-footseven frame. I should be afraid, she thought. Instead of fear, it
was his rugged beauty that consumed her.

"Laurell," he whispered.

His voice touched her in places it shouldn't have been able
to. She sucked in a breath in response to a jolt of pleasure between her thighs. Who are you? What are you doing to me?

A pained expression took over the man's face, and his
body shook. Then he moaned something unintelligible and
pulled her sharply against him.

Laurell inhaled musk and sandalwood. His scent. Some
part of her mind acknowledged she should pull away and
run. Some part of her tried. She grimaced, splayed fingers
across his chest, and pushed hard, desperate to disengage.

Just as it seemed she might break the spell he'd cast over
her, another blast of raw, frenzied need rocked her to the
core. Her hands momentarily fell limp, and a second later,
she observed her fingers as though they belonged to someone else, caressing the stranger's taut stomach. She moaned
in frustration. To her consternation, the sound came out
breathy, inviting.

The man's head bent. The heat in his gaze made clear his
intent and she gasped out a feeble, "Wait-"

His mouth crashed into hers, and he kissed her hard and
deep, eliciting impossible sensations throughout her body.
Invisible hands tugged her nipples and brushed the folds of
her sex, setting her flesh on fire. If he'd asked her at that
moment to let him take her, despite all logic and reason,
she'd have let him. Right there in the mud and the leaves
and in front of the specters of her ancestors.

Laurell managed to work up the strength to pull her lips
from his. She tilted her head back just enough to focus on
his face again. His silver eyes flashed with desire. More energy raged through her, hot and earthy. Too much. It's too
much. Then the world spun and went black.

"She's coming to. Hand me some water."

Laurell's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, and a black
ceiling swam into view. Her hands brushed the smooth
leather of the seat she lay sprawled across. Seat? She started
to sit up, and her vision zigzagged.

"Careful, abrupt movements could cause additional vertigo. Your body is adjusting."

She choked down nausea and jolted upright anyway,
glancing quickly around. She sat in a parked limousine. A
silent driver occupied the front seat, his face obscured by
the cowboy hat he wore. The man in the suit perched next
to her, his brow furrowed in obvious concern. He held a
glass of water out to her, and she jerked back instinctively.

"Don't touch me," she spat out.

He sighed and set the glass in a side holder. He glanced
toward the front of the car at the man behind the wheel.
The driver adjusted his rearview mirror as though to assure
eye contact with her captor before shaking his head and
saying, "We shouldn't stay here much longer. You're too
easy to track from the car."

Laurell's back stiffened. Great. A wanted man. She slid
toward the door and grabbed the handle. It didn't move.
She ran her fingers over the door panel and found no way to
unlock it.

"Do not be afraid. I will not harm you."

At his words, Laurell spun back around to face her kidnapper, ready to demand he unlock the door, but the words
died in her throat. She realized something very strange.
She wasn't afraid. Angry, yes. Confused, absolutely. But the
raw terror she'd have expected to experience in this kind of
situation didn't exist. She could sense her fear-buried
back somewhere in her brain-struggling to be set free, but
failing miserably.

Instead, her thoughts continued to focus on the beauty
of the man in front of her and the way his thick arms made
the suit coat bunch up. These aren't my thoughts, she realized. Why can't I control them?

There could be only one explanation. "You drugged me."

"I have utilized no drugs." He lifted the glass of water
again and took a sip as though to prove his point. Laurell
observed his movements with a sort of hypersensitivity. The
tilt of his head, the bend of his arm, even the way his fingers
circled the glass appeared magnified and vivid. Along with
the bizarre visual phenomenon, she experienced that same
current of energy shimmering over her skin.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded, absolutely certain he'd done something. A girl didn't just get kidnapped
by some strange man and feel no fear. Nor would said girl
be so focused on sexual attraction during so dire a predicament. Unless she'd been drugged.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded again. He kept
staring at her like some kind of interesting science experiment.

"It is because we are in such close proximity. I had to use
the yearning to locate you, but I overestimated my ability
to ward during our first meeting. I apologize."

He seemed almost embarrassed by this admission, though
Laurell had no clue what he'd just confessed.

She frowned. "So you are doing this to me?"

He glanced at the driver without answering.

"We should go," the driver warned. Even from where
Laurell sat, she could read the tension in the driver's shoulders and neck.

"Drive," the kidnapper told him. The car lurched forward, throwing Laurell back against the seat.

"Where are you taking me?" Anger coiled in her belly.
So, fear had taken a vacation, but anger remained and was
gaining strength.

"Somewhere safe."

"Safe? This is kidnapping!"

"If I had asked you to come with me while the yearning
was in force, you would have agreed. I have avoided the use
of force. It would not bode well for our future relations."

"This isn't forcing? You've locked me in your car against
my will." She paused, and her eyes narrowed. What did he
mean by "relations"?

The man sighed. "Soon we will be somewhere protected.
Once there, I can explain everything, including who you
are.

Laurell bristled. "I know who I am. Who the hell are you?"

Before the man could respond, the driver accelerated
and made a sharp swerve. The quick movement sent Laurell sliding across the seat, straight into the man's lap. She
grabbed his arms to keep from falling on her back. As soon
as she touched him, a sharp jolt of desire kicked the air
from her lungs. Her sex quivered, and her nipples sprang to
life. An unbearable ache settled into her groin. Her rear
tingled where it pressed against the length of him. It took
every bit of willpower she had not to bear down and grind
herself against that bulge.

"What the-" she gasped. She didn't want to have sex
with the man.

"They're tracing us. You've gotta ward." The driver's
voice carried a frantic note.

"It is not I they are picking up. It is she. She has no
knowledge yet of warding," her captor exclaimed.

"You'd better do something fast or they'll be on our ass
and following us to the safe house."

"I am trying, but my own ward is tenuous."

Laurell's hand moved of its own accord up the man's broad
chest. She ran one finger over his neck, touching the dark
stubble on his chin. Everywhere she caressed him, she sensed
an invisible finger brushing her in the same spot. What
would happen if she dared press her bottom against his groin?
She did just that, and experienced another wave of pleasure.
Her thighs were immediately moist with her arousal.

"Enough!" The man lifted Laurell off him and forcibly
pushed her to the other side of the car. Unable to help herself, she reached for him, and he raised his hands.

"Stay back!" he cried.

He clamped his eyes shut and sat with his hands folded
under his chin as though in deep concentration. A cool
blast of air washed over Laurell, and the lustful energy dissipated. The driver slowed the car.

"They've lost the signal," the driver announced.

Her kidnapper opened his eyes and nodded. He looked
different, tired and strained.

"I am uncertain how long I can ward for us both. How
much farther must we travel?"

"We're an hour or so from Madison," the driver responded. "Can you hold until then?"

"I will have to."

Laurell hugged her knees to her chest and straightened
her coat around her jean-clad legs. She wondered if she was
in shock; a queer calmness had taken hold of her. She had
no way to escape until the car stopped and the men un locked the doors. No use panicking, even if she could. If
he'd meant to kill her, he could have done so while she was
unconscious. Which meant he had some use for her, didn't
it? Perhaps he knew she was Elaine Pittman's daughter. No
doubt he hoped to gain her fortune. Laurell stifled a hysterical laugh. Too bad for him, she had no fortune.

Laurell gritted her teeth. She'd find a way to escape. She
had to. No one else would come to her rescue. No one
would even look for her. The only friend she'd had, a perky
brunette who shared her major and love of late-night pizza,
had recently moved to Pennsylvania to be with her fiance.
That was it in the friend department. Laurell didn't make
friends easily. Not since she'd realized people's perverse
need to befriend those related to the famous.

No one spoke for the remainder of the drive. It seemed
eons before the car stopped. Glancing out the window, she
realized they were in an area that was only slightly familiar to
her. She hadn't come to Graves Manor much since moving
to Florida-or Madison, for that matter-but she vaguely
recognized the warehouse district just outside the city. Was
her captor going to tie her up in some storage facility?