He reached up and took her hand, settling his fingers around hers. “You aren’t nobody, Dahlia, you’re a GhostWalker. They hired you because you’re exceptional at what you do. We don’t do too bad together for a couple of people that are used to being alone, do we?”
A faint smile curved her mouth. “At least I’ve learned not to singe fingers.”
A night breeze came up off the river, helping to ease the heat of the day. “I enjoy being with you Dahlia. Singed fingers or not.”
Dahlia looked down at Nicolas. His eyes were closed, his voice sleepy, drifting into no more than a murmur. There was a quality about him that she found restful. She had worked at finding peace in her life, a sanctuary, but it had always been alone, her home, the bayou, never with a person. She had been unable to spend more than half an hour at a time with Milly or Bernadette or Jesse. Yet she was with Nicolas almost continually, and the more physical contact she had with him, the easier it seemed to be.
She remained quiet, willing him to sleep. He never seemed tired, yet she could see the lines of strain on his face. She smoothed the lines gently with her fingertips, went back to combing his hair with her fingers. She needed to touch him. She wanted to touch him. He slept lightly. She was very aware on some level he would know the liberties she took, but it didn’t matter. Let him sleep and dream of her.
Dahlia’s fingers slid over his chest, beautiful fingers with more strength than he expected. More magic. Her fingertips played a sultry rhythm on his skin, tightening every muscle, heightening his pleasure. She seemed small and fragile to him, but there was purpose in her touch. Demand even. The night breeze fanned his skin, cooling the rising heat and adding to his sensitivity.
Nicolas knew he was between sleep and awake, somewhere in the twilight in between the two stages. He might have been dream-walking. He was capable. It didn’t matter to him, and he refused to analyze it. He wanted her touch more than he wanted to know what was reality.
He heard her whisper, as soft as any breeze, the warmth of her breath sliding over his face. A brush of her lips against his. Soft, teasing—little feathery kisses tantalizing him. Her teeth nibbled at his lower lip. Her tongue traced the outline of his mouth. His heart thudded in his chest, the echo in his head like thunder.
He shaped the back of her head with the palm of his hand, crushing her silky hair in his fingers, and held her to him so she couldn’t escape. Why did he always feel as if she were on the verge of slipping away from him? He was dreaming. It was his dream, and he wanted to kiss her. His mouth took possession of hers. He was lost there in the silken heat. He gave up all pretense of sleeping, wanting it to be reality, losing himself in her taste and texture. “Dahlia,” he whispered her name against her skin. Inhaling her scent, taking her deep into his lungs. “What are you doing?”
“Losing my mind,” she whispered back, her mouth on fire, pouring molten lava into his bloodstream. “Just this once I wanted to feel like a real woman. You were lying there so beautiful, so peaceful, and the night is so perfect, I almost forgot what I am.” She lifted her head, resisting his firm grip, her black eyes liquid with sorrow. “It’s time to wake up.”
Nicolas caught her face in his hands, held her there. He knew what she meant, but he wasn’t willing to let his dream go. “We’ve been awake. All this time, we’ve both been awake, Dahlia.” He kissed her eyelids gently. The tip of her nose. The corners of her mouth. “You’re a GhostWalker, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She pulled away from him and settled back against the tree. “For a man who is very grounded most of the time, when it comes to me, you’re not very realistic. You took a terrible chance on the ferry. What if instead of the violence being diluted by the sexual energy, you’d been burned when it flashed? Did it occur to you that could have happened just as easily?” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “It occurred to me.”
“Of course I thought of it, Dahlia. What was the alternative? I could have thrown you in the river I suppose, or let you have a seizure right in front of everyone.” Right in front of me. I can read your thoughts, remember? I knew if it happened you’d never want to look at me again.
Her head snapped up, her eyes beginning to smolder with temper. “So you risked your life rather than allowing me a little humiliation? Damn it, Nicolas, that doesn’t even make sense. I don’t need a white knight.” If anyone needed a white knight it was definitely Dahlia. And worse, the thought of the risk he’d taken for her nearly curled her toes. She rubbed her pounding temples. “Did it occur to you that you could have raped me right there in front of all those people?” She said it deliberately harshly, needing him to snap out of his dream world so that she would too.
Nicolas sat up, a wry smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Well, no, it didn’t enter my mind. That came as a shock. Now we know what can happen when the two energies meet. What were you feeling?”
Her face flamed bright red. “I think that’s beside the point. We shouldn’t have tried something without knowing what would happen.” She detested her prim voice. “Isn’t it about time you get going?”
He glanced at his watch. “I want them to be tired and sloppy. Besides, the conversation was just getting interesting.”
“You’re going to make me answer, aren’t you? I thought you were a gentleman.”
“Only when it serves my purpose,” he answered without hesitation.
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I was feeling the same way. Aggressive and out of control.”
“So you wanted to tear my clothes off.”
“It isn’t funny, Nicolas. It could have turned ugly.”
“But it didn’t Dahlia.” He leaned into her, his larger body moulding against hers. His lips skimmed her cheek, teeth teasing her lower lip until her body relaxed beneath his. “It didn’t because we controlled it. We may have been shaky, but it worked. We didn’t tear the clothes off each other, and you didn’t have a seizure. We now know we can dilute the violent energy by mixing it with another kind. Next time, I’ll just tell outrageous jokes.”
Her hands slid over his. “You take too many chances, Nicolas. I was so afraid for you.”
There was a small catch in her voice that tugged at his insides. “You were the one in danger, Dahlia. I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you, and you weren’t exactly resisting.”
“And you would never have forgiven yourself, Nicolas. I’ve lived with this. I’ve done terrible things. They were all accidents, but in the end, it was my responsibility because I couldn’t control my own emotions or handle the sheer volume of energy building up in me. You’ve built your entire life around discipline. I’m the ultimate in chaos, don’t you see that? I work hard at establishing order, but I disrupt the natural flow of energy. I can’t stop it from happening, so I’ve done my best to find ways to disperse it. If I didn’t, the pain would have driven me completely insane. I had to learn how to bring order, it was the only time I wasn’t being battered by the effects of gathering energy. It isn’t going to change. If there had been a way to change it, I would have found it already.”
“Dahlia, I’m going into that house, and I’m bringing Calhoun out. You damned well better be here when I get back. I’d find you, and believe me, you’d see that I’m not always in control, so get it out of your head that you’re sneaking off to save me from myself.” He caught her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “I’m a grown man. I make my own decisions. I’m not having you ‘protect’ me any more than you want my protection. Got that?”
Dahlia sighed, wanting to be upset that he knew what was in her mind, but inexplicably pleased that he was insisting she wait for him. “I’ve got it. Just don’t go getting yourself killed. That would make me mad, and God knows, I’d probably burn down half of Louisiana.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “Don’t melt this. We need it.”
“Then why are you giving it to me?” She dropped the small cell onto the sheet.