"I'm speaking for my father," he said curtly. "Watch your step, or you'll never take another inside the mansion."
"René owes me. I want him to fulfil his promises, nothing more."
"René makes no more promises than I do."
"Not even to the virginal Neva?"
"Not even." Yet the words tasted sour on his lips. If ever he could have made promises with someone, it might have been Neva. "But while we're on the subject of Neva, quit telling her tales about you and me. There is no you and me. There never has been."
Her eyes glittered, but he wasn't sure if it was tears or merely the light catching the silver in her eyes. "You lie. Look into your heart, Duncan."
"I have looked into my heart." And up until this moon phase, he'd thought it incapable of any sort of emotional depths.
"Bastard." Her soft voice was filled with hatred.
"So I'm beginning to believe," he muttered and turned, walking out of the house and away from its crazy occupants.
He stopped on the veranda and watched the storm. The snow had eased, but the wind hadn't, and the day was still bitingly cold. Not the sort of day you wanted to be out in.
Not the sort of day you wanted to find yourself unconscious in.
For one second, he froze. Then he swore and dove into the storm, running as if the hounds of hell were after him. He didn't feel the tempest blowing around him. Didn't feel the cold. Didn't even feel the pavement pounding under his feet. All he could feel was an odd sort of numbness, creeping slowly through his body, as if his strength was being sucked away by an unknown force.
Only it wasn't truly unknown. It was Neva, siphoning his strength to bolster hers.
He'd never truly feared before, but he did now. For her.
For them.
Because if she could do that, then this thing between them went far deeper than he'd thought, far deeper than just a moon dance.
Wouldn't it be the mother of all ironies if, in a matter of days, he'd managed to destroy the one thing he'd spent half his life searching for?
More than eight blocks separated Betise's house and Neva's. He crossed them in record time, slowing only as he reached her house. He opened the gate, then hesitated, looking at the windblown whiteness to his right. She wasn't home. She was down there, somewhere.
He didn't question his certainty. Didn't dare. He swore again, a growl of sound the wind quickly snatched away, and hurried forward. The sullen gleam of a streetlight became visible, indicating that he was approaching another road. He stopped on the corner, glancing to his left.
And saw her huddled against the curb, looking like little more like a brightly-colored bundle of snow-covered rags than a woman. His gut twisted, and for a second he couldn't seem to breathe. Then he was beside her, stripping off his gloves and slipping his fingers under her woolen ski mask, feeling for a pulse. It was there, nice and steady. He checked her ears, then her fingers and her feet. All were well covered. All were warm. Relief slithered through him. Hypothermia didn't appear to have struck yet.
He stripped off his coat, then his sweater, rolling it lengthways and carefully placing it around her neck. As improvised cervical collars went, it wasn't the best, but it was a hell of a lot better than risking moving her without it. He carefully turned her over. No blood. That might be good. Might be bad.
"Neva?" He lightly tapped her cheeks. Her color was good, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the mask.
Her eyes fluttered, and a smile touched her lips. A carefree, easy sort of smile that did strange things to his heart's rhythm.
Neva?
She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. It sounded for all the world like she was drunk. Are you okay?
Okay? No. Perfect? Yes.
Her words made him smile. She was perfect, in almost every way imaginable. He picked up his coat and tried to wrap it around her, but she slapped his hands away with a laugh. It was such a carefree sound he almost laughed with her, despite the concern swamping him.
What happened? He managed to avoid her hands and finally wrapped the coat around her.
A truck happened. Clipped me.
She seemed to be moving all right, and he could no longer sense pain in her mind. Still, he'd better get her to the hospital, just to be sure.