The Soul Stealer (16 page)

“That’s too bad,” he said, looking out toward the street. “Now we’ll probably never find him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Ryan said with some impatience. “You did the right thing.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee? I have some in the back,” she said with a feigned smile. The clock on the wall seemed to tick past the seconds like they were minutes.

“No, I’ll have to take a rain check. We’ve got to do some serious searching of the island to find this guy. We’ll post a likeness on the news as soon as our artist can do a rendering, and get airport security involved so he can’t fly out.”

“Do you really think it’s Hunter?”

“Could be,” Ryan said. “I’m glad he’s not a problem for you any longer, though.”

Malia smiled at the detective again, hoping he would leave soon.

“Well, I’d better get going, but I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” she said, watching him leave with relief, but then panic came. What if they went to her house anyway and found Hunter there? Why didn’t he have a cell phone so she could warn him? Of course Hunter couldn’t get a cell phone. He had no legal identification, checking account, or any other proof he existed. Was he a thief? Was that why he insisted they had to run away, because the police would be after him? She shook her head, not wanting to believe that of him. Somehow it seemed better to believe the story about his ruthless father coming after him than to believe Hunter was a thief on the run. But the second story was more plausible. It wouldn’t be the first time she had been involved with a criminal. The image of Alex in prison came to mind, and Malia wondered why she was attracted to men on the other side of respectability. She wished she could fall for a boring accountant for a change.

Malia wrung her hands and paced around the shop, knowing she couldn’t suddenly leave and go home, even though she wanted to warn Hunter about the police. Ryan might be watching to catch her doing just that. Lani had left work early with a bad cold, so Malia couldn’t send her to the studio to warn Hunter either. She continued to pace, hoping the police wouldn’t find him and arrest him.

“Hey Malia,” Eric said coming through the shop door and shutting it with a bang. “I’m here to make the deposit. Sorry I missed it yesterday afternoon. The waves were too perfect to be ignored, dude.”

Malia had never been so glad to see someone. “You could make it up to me by stopping by my house and giving Hunter a note on your way home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eric said with a shrug. “The swell has died, so I can’t go surfing before work anyway. I’m doing the late shift at the hotel tonight.”

Malia pulled into the driveway faster than normal, making the brakes squeal in protest as she abruptly stopped. She got out of the car and barely shut the door, wasting no time running up the stairs. The door was locked, so Hunter had been there that day but wasn’t now. She had left the front door unlocked, as usual. Malia ran back down the stairs, ignoring Max’s welcoming bark from inside the house.

She rushed through the half-open door to the studio, hoping to find Hunter. But the apartment was empty. She froze and looked around. All his things were gone, the bed was neatly made, and the keys to the studio were on the pillow. The place looked sterile and cold. She sat down on the bed and picked up the keys. He was gone. A stab of pain shot through her, lingering in her chest. It was better this way, she told herself, the police couldn’t find him. The logic of that thought didn’t reach her heart. How would she go on without Hunter next to her every night? She sat there until darkness came, unable to form complete or rational thoughts.

Malia left the studio in a mechanical fashion, turning off the lights and making sure everything was locked. She blindly climbed the stairs and went into the kitchen, letting Max outside to wander the yard, and then went to her room. She fell on the bed as tears overwhelmed her. Grabbing the pillow that had become his, she hugged it closely, smelling Hunter everywhere. Malia closed her eyes, wanting to pretend the agony would go away, and that he was still there.

“You promised me one more night,” she said out loud, her voice choked with pain. “One more night!” The rain hit hard outside, then pounded on the roof with a roar, drowning out the sound of Malia’s tears.

I
t was wrong. He should leave her. Hunter stood at the top of the stairs just outside the kitchen door, letting the rain pound down on him, trying to get his breathing under control, reluctant to go in the house. There would be no turning back this time. The prize was within his grasp, his for the taking, one way or another, even if it meant deception. It was the best thing for her, and perhaps the only way to keep her alive. It was in Malia’s best interest, he told himself. Besides, to go against his father’s forces, Hunter would need to be as powerful as possible, and she was the key to that. He had to look at it that way.

Hunter took a deep breath and went into the house, letting Max in with him. Both stood in the kitchen, as puddles of water formed around them. Max shook off the rainwater and went to his bed in the corner.

The house was dark. The wind ripped through the open windows, sending the curtains flying in all directions. Hunter pushed up the switch for the kitchen light, and expected the darkness to disappear, but nothing happened. He flipped it up and down just to be sure. He then went to the refrigerator and opened it, but there was no light in there either. Hunter put his hand inside his leather bag to make sure the dagger was still there. The storm had probably blown out a power line somewhere, leaving them without electricity, but he wasn’t sure. He could feel Malia’s presence in the house, but there could be someone else. His brother was sneaky; Archer knew how to elude him. And Archer had been in the house recently, of that Hunter was sure.

In the kitchen doorway, Hunter peered into the living room, wondering if someone was waiting for him in the shadows. He didn’t smell or sense anything unusual. He turned to see Max sitting casually on his bed, which gave Hunter more proof that all was as it should be. He let go of the dagger, letting it drop back into the folds of the leather bag, and went to Malia’s bedroom. He took off wet clothes as he went, not caring where they landed.

He stood over her bed, naked from the waist down, and took the leather bag off his shoulder. He gently set it on the floor. He stood there looking at his beautiful girl curled up on the bed, still in the dress she wore to work. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the curves of her body. The thought of her smooth skin and taut thighs set blood rushing through his veins, settling in a painful pulse between his legs. Hunter took a deep breath and pulled the soggy T-shirt over his head, then let it fall to the floor. He had to do it; he had to bind her to him. It was the only way he could get what he wanted. And it was the only way to keep her alive.

“Please forgive me for not allowing you a choice,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him. Hunter positioned himself on the bed and ran his hands from her knees to her thighs. He kissed her neck, feeling her stir from the deep sleep she was in, and rolled his leg over hers as his hands went between her thighs. His heart beat so loudly, he couldn’t hear his inner voice trying to stop him. It was too faint to be heard.

Malia opened her eyes with a start and then grabbed hold of him with a tight embrace, planting her lips on his. Hunter returned her kiss with enthusiasm and then pulled away. “Take off your clothes, my love,” he ordered in the dark.

She stood up, quickly shed her clothes, and came back to bed in a moment. She positioned herself underneath him without hesitation and ran her soft hands over his shoulders and back as he rolled on top of her. She was more than willing, Hunter told himself as he let his lips linger at her throat. Malia’s legs went around his waist, and he could feel her hot flesh against his abdomen, waiting for him. Hunter entered her, no longer able to deny what they both needed. His ragged breathing matched hers as their frenzied rhythm took over, and his head swam with the energy they created together. He felt tiny, warm sparks all over his skin. His torturous waiting for her was over. She was finally his, and he would have her as no other man had.

As his body exploded inside Malia’s, the pain in his chest began. He had not expected it to be so intense. It felt like a hot iron was searing the flesh over his heart, and he couldn’t lift his chest from the connection it had to hers. A white light sparked between their hearts.

Malia started to struggle, and her hands went to his shoulders in an attempt to push him off. Her legs were moving erratically with the force going through her body. She started to scream, but he put his hand over her mouth, unable to listen to her pain. He tried to hold her down, needing her to be still until the fusion stopped, as he completely fulfilled his need of her and almost convulsed from the pain in his chest. The sound of the storm crashing down around them helped muffle her cries. Hunter shut his eyes and allowed the agony to engulf him until he shook with a mixture of pain and ecstasy. He wasn’t sure which was more intense: the pleasure of fulfilling his passion for Malia, or the uniting of their soul.

Then it all stopped. Malia went limp in his arms, fainting.

Hunter rolled off her, wishing he had that release himself. He reached up and felt the thin, jagged line over his heart, knowing it was a perfect match for the one over hers. He looked at his fingers and saw his iridescent blood. That was when the deep, dark sleep took over. He couldn’t fight it. And it was a rest he could easily accept, knowing they were now forever entwined, and she could not leave him.

Malia sucked in her breath and opened her eyes with a start. Was it just a strange dream? She looked over and saw Hunter sleeping flat on his back a bit away from her. The throbbing between her legs brought a flush to her face. She had thought their first time together would be romantic and loving, but it had been animalistic, intense almost to the point of violence. But a warm glow now filled her from head to toe, making her feel as if everything was perfect for the first time in her life, and an unusual energy pulsed through her veins.

She got up on her elbows and tried to look around in the dark. The continuous roar of the rain outside drowned out any other sound. She shook Hunter’s shoulder, hoping he would wake up, but he was deeply under.

Max had not been fed that evening, and he would be starving, so she got up and put on a cotton dress. Her body felt worked over, and her head felt like she’d been drugged. She walked around the living room, trying to turn on lights, but none responded, and the clock on the wall had stopped. She sighed. Another power outage caused by a storm. The electricity lines in this neighborhood were just too old and covered in wild vines to withstand much rain or wind.

Malia walked toward the china cabinet where she kept flashlights for emergencies, but Max’s sudden barking made her turn toward the kitchen. Just then, the electricity was restored and the kitchen light went on, as well as the lights in the living room. She froze as fear gripped her so tightly she couldn’t breath. The blond-haired man from the street corner stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Max growled at the intruder.

“Call off your dog, or I’ll kill him,” the man said without emotion. His voice was gravelly, and he had the same type of accent as Hunter.

A small scream escaped her lips, and she instinctively took a step back, grabbing Max’s collar.

“Hunter’s right. You really should lock your door. You never know who might stop by uninvited.”

She tried to get her brain to work again. “You know Hunter?” She had to keep pulling Max back to prevent him from charging the stranger. She noticed a heavy flashlight on the shelf and wondered if she could grab it fast enough before the intruder could stop her.

“Unfortunately, I do,” the man said with a cold laugh. “Is he here?”

“What do you want with him?” Malia asked. She was tempted to let Max go but was afraid the man would harm him.

“Tell my brother I got his message, and I’m ready to talk.”

“Your brother?” Understanding flooded through Malia. No wonder this man had seemed so familiar to her before. He had the same angles in his face as Hunter, only this guy’s face was sharper, making him not quite as devastatingly handsome. He looked rougher, the wilder version of a refined breed.

The man nodded, looking her up and down, delighted with her fear of him. “I can see why Hunter wanted to find you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as anger against Hunter for lying about his brother started to form.

The intruder stepped closer but then put his hands to his ears as if muffling a harsh noise, and his face became a mask of pain. He looked at her necklace and backed away. “I see he’s put you on a short leash with his magic.”

Malia’s hand went to the crystal hanging around her neck.

“He’s shielded you.” The blond man took another step back. “It’s a bit ironic though, since the person you really need protection from is him. You know that crystal also tells him where you are every minute of the day. If someone is going to hurt you, it might as well be him.”

“Hunter hasn’t harmed me,” she said as her courage returned.

A knowing smiled crossed the man’s handsome face. “By the looks of you, I’d say he has, but maybe you’re not quite clear on what’s happened to you. Did he warn you? Tell you what you’re getting into? I guess he tricked you into it instead. He’s got some good tricks. His kind all do. It’s in their blood, which is different from ours. Have you noticed?”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Malia said, taking a step closer to send shocks of noise to his ears with her necklace. “I haven’t been tricked by anyone.”

The man backed away through the kitchen. “Well, I’m glad for you,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “It’s good that it doesn’t bother you what he really is. Most women wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Malia stopped walking toward him. His words seemed more than just a taunt to make her angry, but she wondered what he meant.

“You look confused. Perhaps Hunter hasn’t been completely honest, after all. Isn’t that surprising?”

“Get out of my house!”

“Your mother didn’t warn you not to fall for a Blackthorne? How negligent of her.”

“What do you know of my mother?”

The man shrugged. “Not much, just what I’ve heard from my father. But it wasn’t nice, so I didn’t really listen. He lies a lot, too, just like Hunter.”

Malia narrowed her eyes at him. “Get out!”

“By the way,” he said, pointing to Malia’s chest. “You’re bleeding.”

She looked down to find blood oozing from the scar over her heart. Malia looked back up to say something to the blond man, but he had disappeared. She ran to the door and locked it, and then she looked out the kitchen window to see if he was on the stairs, but he was nowhere to be found.

Malia got a paper towel and dabbed at the blood outlining her scar. It wasn’t just a scar anymore. It was an open wound. Nausea threatened to make her run to the bathroom. Her hand shook as she threw the bloody paper towel into the kitchen trash. She put her hands on the edge of the counter and lowered her head a bit to make the spinning stop. What had she gotten herself into?

The memory of their lovemaking came rushing back, and she realized that the pain she thought had been part of her orgasm had been something more. It was deeper and oddly more satisfying than any pleasure she’d ever experienced before while making love. She had thought it was because she and Hunter were meant for each other. Their coming together was like two bolts of lightning crashing into each other, causing shocks of electricity throughout their bodies. But what had it really been? Malia tapped her fingers on the counter.

She whirled around and headed for the bedroom, not noticing anything in her path. The lights were still off in there, and Hunter’s breathing could be heard above the now gentle rain pattering outside. Malia went closer to the window so she could look around the floor using the light from the street lamp outside. There it was! She grabbed the brown leather bag and took it into the living room, then poured its contents onto the couch.

It was mostly the expected sorts of things: a wad of cash, chewing gum, various sizes of paper scraps with notes and addresses written on them, a map of the island, pens, a small pair of scissors, and a comb that looked like it had never been used. There were three odd items that caught Malia’s attention: a small leather bag filled with sparkly, golden dust; a tin box that had sections inside it filled with various dried herbs; and a compass. Who used a compass these days, Malia wondered as she picked up the intricately carved ivory and brass instrument.

Nothing seemed too out of place, and she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, exactly. There was one thing she had expected to find but was relieved it wasn’t there. She carefully put everything back in the leather bag, leaving the box for last. She put it up to her nose and smelled each section of herbs. Each one had a strong and distinct scent.

As Malia put the box back into the leather satchel, she noticed something long and narrow. She took a deep breath and blinked, not believing that it was actually there. An emerald in the shape of a pentacle sat in the middle of the ivory handle, sparkling, even in the dim light. Malia swallowed hard before picking up the dagger.