it on her chest, felt the rapid beat of her heart against his hand. “And you’re shying away from what the problem is. Are you going to talk to me or not?”
“I’m not in the mood for this shite, but fine, you bloody moron. I’ll tell you, but then you’ll have to leave me be. And you’ll explain yourself first, you hear me?”
“Why are you so determined to leave?” he asked.
“Because once you hear what I have to say, you’ll want to,” she said, her voice thick and heavy. “Trust me.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Yes.” She jerked on the cuffs. “Undo these. I’m not talking to you like this, like I’m some sort of prisoner.” Her eyes darkened. “I let myself be treated like a prisoner for too long. I’ve been investigating this for two years, but for more than twelve months, I’ve lived, slept, and breathed this case—I couldn’t do a damn thing without him watching, and every move I made, I worried it would be my last. It’s done now. I am done.”
* * *
ONCE the cuff fell away, Dru sprang away from the bed, desperate to get away from him. Before she let herself lean on him.
The dream had left her shaken. She couldn’t even explain how deeply it had rattled her. It felt like the very foundation of her world had been shattered, and she was still trying to find solid ground to stand on.
Joss seemed so very solid.
But it was an illusion—she knew that. He’d proven it already.
“Talk,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and turning to stare at him.
He still sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, hair mussed from sleep. With his head bowed, she let herself take a longer look at him and oh . . . what a lovely look. That body of his was absolutely delicious, she decided. Hard and strong and muscled. She’d always gone for a sleeker, leaner look, but there was just something so lovely about his strength. She wanted to climb on top of him and just spend hours learning that body. Hours she didn’t have.
Fuck it all.
“I’m probably the most screwed-up kind of psychic you’re ever going to meet,” Joss said, his voice flat, his head still bent.
She pursed her lips. He was . . . strong. She knew that much. The burn he left on her brain was almost too much, almost too intense, but she didn’t see what was so fucked up about it. “How so?”
“Well, right now . . . I can talk to the dead, I’m telepathic, there’s some precognitive abilities, retrocognitive abilities, psychometry, and telekinesis. Plus, a very, very weird ability to manipulate matter in a way that I can’t quite comprehend. All psychic abilities have a root in science . . . there’s a way to explain them. But I can’t explain this.”
“You are what you are,” Dru said, frowning as she studied him. This wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. Joss had struck her as a little more self-assured. Self-aware, but he was bemoaning his abilities?
“No. I’m not this,” he said, finally lifting his head. He held out a hand and the cuffs he held rose, hovering above his hand, held by a force she couldn’t see. But she felt it.
It was almost like the charge she’d felt in the air when Tucker had been doing his thing, but not quite.
“This isn’t my gift, you see,” Joss said, smiling a little. “It’s borrowed. I’m what you’d call a mirror. I pick up gifts. Or rather, I’m paired with whatever psychic I need to be paired with. We call it syncing. I’m synced with another psychic, given a particular gift set, and then sent to the job. Sometimes the person who has the gift we need just doesn’t have the right . . . skills for the job. Or the right sex. The two psychics I was synced to were females. They couldn’t have done this job.”
Dru stared at him. About five seconds later, she realized her jaw was hanging open. Snapping it shut with an audible click, she shoved a hand through her hair, only to realize it was still in the braid from yesterday. Yanking it out, she snapped the band onto her wrist and started to finger-comb her hair. “You . . . so, you’re basically just . . . what, like an SD card or something?”
He flashed a grin at her.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I am. I take in data. I can take