And that's when she heard it.
Someone drew in a raspy breath. While the sound came only at a whisper, she knew that the owner of this breath stood behind her. Stood close. And since no chill of death surrounded her, she knew it wasn't from the spirit world.
The sound came again. Someone fed life-giving air into their lungs. Odd how she now feared the living more than she feared the dead.
Her heart thudded to a stop. Much like the grooves left in the earth by her three-inch heels, her growing dread left ruts in her courage.
She wasn't ready. If it was Mario, she wasn't ready. Whatever it was she needed to do, whatever plan or fate she was destined to follow, she needed more time.
Chapter Two
"Are you ... okay?"
The voice. Not Mario. Derek's voice.
His familiar tone had her initial panic fading, but only for a second. I'm in love with you, Kylie. The words he'd spoken less than fifteen minutes ago flowed through her head, bringing with them another emotional storm that made her mind and heart spin. Derek loved her. But what did she feel?
She shifted slightly, and the heel from her right shoe fell off, making her off balance. That's how her life felt-as if it had lost a heel, and her only choice was to limp along.
"What's wrong?" His voice rang with concern.
I'm fine. The words perched on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. Derek, half-fae, could read her. To lie to him about her emotional state was futile. So she turned around and faced him.
"What are you doing here without a shadow?" Derek asked. "You know you're not supposed to be without a shadow in case that freakish rogue returns."
Meeting Derek's gaze, she spotted the panic brightening his eyes. She knew the panic she saw was her own as well. When she hurt emotionally, he hurt. When she experienced joy, he lived it, too. When she feared something, he feared it for her. Considering her emotional state these last few minutes, he must be in hell.
His chest expanded behind the fitted dusty green t-shirt. He held a hand over his hard stomach as he sucked air into his lungs. His dark brown hair appeared windblown, and his bangs clung to his forehead. A drip of sweat rolled down his brow. For a second, all she could think about was falling into him, letting his calming touch chase away the apprehension inside her.
"Is it ... what I said?" he asked. "If it is, I'll ... take it back. I didn't tell you that to tear you apart inside."
One couldn't take back an admission of love, she thought. Not if he really meant it. But she didn't say that. "It's not what you said." Then she realized that, too, was a lie. His confession played havoc with her emotions. "Well, it's other stuff, too."
"What stuff?" His words came out breathlessly. His eyes searched hers and she saw the gold flecks in his irises brighten. "I sense you're terrified and confused, and-"
"But I'm okay." She noticed again his winded state, as if he'd just run a mile to get to her. Had he? "Where were you?"
He took in another deep gulp of oxygen. "My cabin."
Over a mile. "You felt my emotions that far away?"
"Yeah." He frowned as if he hoped she didn't blame him. She didn't like that her emotions were an open book for him to read, but she didn't blame him. He'd told her once that if he could stop reading her, he would. She believed him.
"I thought you said it was lessening," she said. "Does it still make you crazy?"
His left shoulder shifted upward a couple of inches. "It's still strong, but it's not overwhelming like before. I can handle it, now that I..."
Now that he'd accepted he loved her. That's what he'd told her. That's why their link had grown so strong. Her chest grew heavy with indecision again. It was a good thing that one of them could handle it. Because she wasn't sure she could deal with this. Not with him loving her. Not with any of the revelations she'd been given. At least right now.
"What's wrong?" He stepped closer. So close she could smell his skin-earthy, honest, real.
The temptation to walk into his arms washed over her. She longed to feel the up and down motion of his chest as he breathed, to let what was in the past be what was in the future. Closing her hands into tight fists, she limped past him with her one broken heel, went to a tree, and lowered herself down to the ground. The earth felt cooler than the heat in the air. The blades of grass tickled the back of her legs, but she ignored it.
He didn't wait for an invitation; he lowered himself beside her. Not close enough that they touched, but close enough that she thought about touching.
"So it's more than one thing?" he asked.
She nodded and the decision to confide in him seemed already made. "My dad appeared to me." She bit down on her lip. "He told me what I am."