Siren's Call (A Rainshadow Novel) (16 page)

Rafe contemplated his ring again. “I think this rock somehow helped me navigate the currents of the storm.”

“Hmm.” She considered that briefly. “What about the gray chamber and the pool of liquid crystals?”

Rafe met her eyes. “Don’t you understand? I hallucinated the pool and the gateway to the Ghost City. Like the T-shirt says, I went to the city of ice and fog and all I’ve got to show for it is this lousy ring.”

They both looked at the gray quartz in his ring. It was no longer sparking with energy.

“It seems to respond to your energy field,” Ella ventured.

“Oh, yeah. It gets real hot when I’m having visions. For all the good that does.”

“Yet you kept it.”

He exhaled slowly. “I kept it because it tells me when I’m seeing things. It’s my own personal warning light.”

“Do you really believe that you dreamed the city of ice and fog?”

Rafe exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“What happened to the ruins?”

“They’re probably still there but no one can get to them because of the firestorm.”

Ella eyed the ring. “No one except you?”

Rafe followed her gaze. “I might be able to get back
through it. Maybe even guide a team to the ruins. But what’s the point? There’s no liquid crystal pool and no portal to the Ghost City. It was all a dream.”

“What happened to you after your brother found you in the Rainforest?”

“It was obvious I had been burned and that I was running a fever. No one knew what the result would be so the para-psych docs suggested that I be locked up in a nice padded room where I couldn’t do any damage to myself or others. My family did not go along with that treatment advice.”

“What did your family do instead?”

Rafe’s mouth crooked in another wry smile. “They locked me up in the family compound on Copper Beach Island, instead. And that’s where I’ve been for the past three months.”

There was a long silence.

Ella finally cleared her throat. “You know, you could have sent a message.”

“Saying what? Sorry, bad burn. Probably turning into a monster or a rogue talent so I won’t be asking you out for coffee?”

Anger snapped through her. She shot to her feet. “Something like that, yes. I’m afraid your excuse doesn’t fly, not with me. I’m one of the monsters, too, remember?”

He stared at her, clearly shocked by her fury.

“You’re not a monster,” he said.

“Neither are you.”

“Look, I’m not exactly good dating material, okay? The para-genetics in my family is complicated enough. Now I’ve added a bad burn and a fever to the mix. So, yeah, I decided it might be a good idea to make sure I
wasn’t going rogue or turning into some kind of psychic vampire before I asked you out on a date.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

The gray quartz stone in Rafe’s ring sparked with fire. In the next instant he came up out of the chair. Very deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers, he unfastened the shoulder holster and set it and the gun down on the table.

He walked toward her, his eyes heating. Her pulse was racing madly but she refused to retreat.

He clamped both hands around her shoulders.

“Do you know what it’s been like being me these past three months?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

“How could I? You never bothered to get in touch.”

“I was the crazy relative the family had to hide in the attic. Everyone around me watched me as if expecting me to explode at any minute without any warning. Every time I looked into my mother’s eyes I could see her pain and fear. I knew she wasn’t afraid of me. She was terrified
for
me. Every time I awoke from one of the fever dreams I’d find her bending over me, trying to calm me. Meanwhile, my brothers and my father kept pretending that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on—that I was healing.”

“When did you finally conclude that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t going to turn into a monster?”

“It was my father who made the decision. He realized I was going stir-crazy and his intuition told him that I wasn’t dangerous. He decided that what I needed was a job. That’s why I’m in charge of clearing out Wonderland. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do because it’s my chance to prove I’m not going rogue.”

“So you decided to call me when it occurred to you that you needed me to get your precious job done here on Rainshadow.”

“I was going to call, regardless,” he said between his teeth.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, damn it.” He tightened his hands around her shoulders. “After what we’ve been through together, I expect you to trust me.”

“I do trust you.” She paused delicately. “In some ways.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I certainly trust you to have my back in a kidnapping attempt. I trust you to pay your bill when this consulting job is done. And I trust you not to tell the world that I’m a Siren.”

“I’m just damned thrilled with all that trust.”

“What more do you want?”

“You.” He drew her closer. “I want you, Ella Morgan, but I can’t offer you any long-term guarantees.”

She rezzed up a steely smile. “I’m just like you when it comes to long-term guarantees, remember? I don’t come with an extended warranty, either. Women like me scare the hell out of normal men. And the not-so-normal kind scare the hell out of me.”

“You don’t scare me. Do I scare you?”

She looked at him, aware of the heat sizzling between them. At this rate they might set the room on fire, she thought.

“Are you absolutely positive that I don’t scare you?” she whispered.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

She slid her arms up around his neck. “So here we are, a couple of people who should be scared to death of each other. If we had any sense, we’d both be running in opposite directions.”

“Don’t know about you, but I’m not going anywhere tonight—not unless you push me out the door.”

“No,” she said. “Not tonight.”

He pulled her hard against his chest and captured her mouth with his own. They were both running hot and the intoxicating heat of Rafe’s aura clashed with her own energy field in sensual combat.

She was vaguely aware of Rafe untying the sash of her robe. The plush garment fell to the floor around her feet. The prim, plain cotton nightgown that she had purchased in Thursday Harbor followed.

And then she was stripped bare and Rafe’s strong hands were gliding intimately over her body. His touch was at once fierce and achingly tender. When she shuddered with anticipation he groaned and moved his mouth to her throat.

“You are so soft,” he said, his voice rough with hunger. “I knew it would be like this. You’ll never know how many times I reached for you in my dreams these past three months. But you were always too far away.”

“You dreamed of me?”

“Every night.”

He cupped one breast in his hand, bent his head and kissed the nipple. She took a shaky breath.

“Rafe.”

“Sing for me, Siren.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I told you, I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, Rafe.” She slipped her hands under the bottom edge of his T-shirt and flattened her palms against his sleekly muscled back. “This is enough. More than enough.”

“We haven’t even started.”

He picked her up in his arms and dropped her lightly onto the rumpled bed. With a few quick, efficient moves he got rid of the low boots and stripped off his jeans, briefs, and the T-shirt. The clothes landed in a careless heap on the floor.

He was hard and erect. She caught her breath at the size and power of the man. Excitement tempered with a whisper of feminine trepidation shivered through her.

Before she could second-guess herself about the wisdom of what she was doing, Rafe descended.

It was as if he had brought the forces of the storm outside into the room. He braced himself above her, rezzed his talent, and made love to her with a passion unlike anything she had ever known—unlike anything she could have imagined.

There was lightning in his kisses and electricity in his hands. Her senses were tossed about as though caught in gale-force currents. When he found the melting core between her thighs with his mouth, she bit back a scream.

“Sing for me,” he said.

The tension rising within her was overwhelming; irresistible. She felt her control start to slip and a strange panic consumed her. She never allowed herself to lose control. It was too dangerous.

As if he knew that he was winning the battle, Rafe was relentless.

“Sing,” he said in a soft, husky voice that thrilled her. “It’s all right. You’re safe. I won’t let you fall.”

He slid his fingers into her, opening her, stretching her.

The storm broke over her, through her; flashing across her aura. But Rafe held her fast, savoring the elemental feminine energy he had unleashed.

And she sang.

It was a song unlike any she had ever sung before, a song that drew power from the far ends of the spectrum, a song of light and dark. A song of life.

Somewhere in the midst of the torrent of paranormal harmonies she felt Rafe glide up her body and thrust slowly, heavily into her wet, tight heat. She came again.

“Siren,” Rafe said. “My sweet Siren.”

He stroked deep, again and again. His climax slammed through both of them. The shock waves resonated across both their auras. She knew then that, for a few minutes at least, he had released the mag-rez grip he kept on his self-control. He was flying into the storm.

She wrapped her legs around him, holding him with all of her strength, and sang her silent, soaring song. The music would have overwhelmed another man’s aura and sent him crashing into oblivion. But Rafe seemed to draw power from the wild harmonies, just as she drew power from the stormy heat in his aura.

Reality would return soon enough. For tonight she would abandon herself to a fantasy. Tonight she would glory in the pleasures of true intimacy with a lover; one who was not afraid of her.

The damn rain made it impossible to see anything but vague shadows.

Ken Maitland huddled in the limited shelter provided by the roof of the boathouse and listened to the downpour. It drummed on the opaque surface of the lake, muffling other sounds. He hated the way it rained on Rainshadow.

He had been on the island for nearly a week waiting for his chance. In that length of time he had come to hate everything about the place—the rain, the weird fog, the creepy energy that seemed to be everywhere. He could not wait to get the hell off the rock, but he was not about to leave until he had made the big score.

He had followed an old girlfriend into the Do Not Disturb movement. The scam hadn’t deceived him, not for a minute. He had been on the streets long enough to recognize a fellow con artist when he met one. He had recognized
Houston Radburn, the guru of DND, as a fraud right from the start. It took one to know one, Ken thought. But he had seen the opportunities immediately.

His computer skills had helped him advance rapidly within the organization. Thanks to him the donations had tripled within a few months. Ken had discreetly siphoned off some of the take into a private bank account. He deserved a commission.

Radburn had been delighted with the cash flow situation for a while, but lately he had started to become suspicious of his sharp new fund-raiser. It was time to bail, Ken thought. But not before he pulled off one last score.

He could hear the black water lapping gently beneath the boards of the dock. In the weak glare of the boathouse’s light fixture he caught glimpses of the strange snakeweed plant that choked the lake. The vines coiled and writhed just below the surface.

He’d heard one of the locals say that falling into the lake was a death sentence. The weed twisted around the body and dragged it down into the depths. The lake never gave up its dead, according to the island residents.

That unnerving fact didn’t seem to bother the people who called Rainshadow home, Maitland reflected. They took the scary lake in stride, the same way they did all the other bizarre things on the island. The place had once been an Alien biolab. You’d think that would be more than enough reason to make any normal person pack up and get on the ferry. But as far as he could tell, the residents accepted the hair-raising results of the ancient experiments as just part and parcel of the landscape.

But, then, having been on Rainshadow for a while, he had concluded that the locals were as weird as the island itself. He was sure that the chief of police was some kind of talent and so was his wife, the owner of the antiques shop. Maybe the energy on the island actually changed people. Maybe they were all psi-burned or something.

Maybe the Do Not Disturb outfit had a point. Maybe people shouldn’t be messing around with the Aliens’ secrets.

“Ken?” Angela came around the side of the boathouse. The hood of a dark blue rain slicker was pulled up over her head. “I got your message. Where are you?”

“Over here.” Relief crashed through him. He suddenly realized how tight his breathing had become. The island was wrecking his nerves. The sooner he got back to civilization, the better. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

Angela rushed toward him. He caught her close and kissed her.

After a moment she stepped back. “It’s so good to see you, but what are you doing on Rainshadow? Everything is going according to plan. I’ve been doing what Mr. Radburn told me to do—small stuff. I started a fire a couple of weeks ago that destroyed some computer equipment and I made sure the new amber locators disappeared into the lake. I’ve got another idea, too—”

“I don’t care about what you’re doing. Angela, I’m getting out of DND.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving. The movement is a scam.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“It has been from the start. Radburn is a con. He’s fooled you and the others but I know him for what he is.”

“What are you saying?”

“Look, I know what I’m talking about,” he said. “Who do you think has been helping him rake in the cash for the past year?”

“You?” she whispered.

“Yeah. But now Radburn is getting close to figuring out that I’ve been taking a cut. Time to get out. I’ve got one last project, though. Something really big.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Angela started to cry. “What about the cause? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?”

“Not a damn thing. Get real, Angela. It’s hopeless. The ruins are going to get dug up and excavated and nothing DND or anyone else does can stop that. What’s more, I don’t care. I was only in this for the money. And you. I’d have bailed months ago if it hadn’t been for you.”

Angela sniffed. “Stop talking like that.”

“I’m here on Rainshadow because I’ve got a plan to get one last big donation—from Rafe Coppersmith, no less. Figured you’d like that part. Think about it—Coppersmith is going to finance our future. Serves them right for being in the ruin business, huh?”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, listen, this will work but I need your help. I want you to get a message to Coppersmith. Slip it under his door or something. I can’t risk communicating with him online. I think someone is eavesdropping on me.”

“Who?”

“Probably Coppersmith Security. I’ve got to be very careful.”

“You’re going to sell information about DND to Rafe Coppersmith, aren’t you?”

“It’s bigger than DND. I’ve got some very specific intel that he’ll pay a fortune for, believe me. So, are you coming with me or not?”

She shook her head very slowly. “You’re not the man I thought you were, Ken. You have the nerve to call Mr. Radburn a con but you’re the real scam artist. No, you’re worse than that. You’re a traitor.”