And with that, the energy leapt away and returned to the heavens. The feeling of oneness was gone, the light was gone, and all that was left was weakness. Complete and utter weakness.
She fell forward into arms that were warm and solid and real, and she knew without looking that it was Gabriel. She didn't ask how he was there, or why he was there, and didn't particularly care. She simply rested in the security of his touch as her body trembled and she gasped for breath.
His grip tightened slightly, as if he'd felt her need for closeness. His warmth began to seep into her, heating her skin, leeching away the last vestiges of energy and making her feel "real" again rather than a creature of the storm. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling her own begin to echo its rhythm.
"Are you all right?" he asked, after awhile. His breath caressed warmth across the top of her head and a tremor of desire ran through her.
Not a feeling she needed right now.
She nodded in answer to his question and pulled back. His grip moved to her shoulders, holding her steady and preventing her from totally drawing away. His gaze searched hers, the green in those hazel depths glowing like emerald fire, as if the storm had somehow empowered him, too.
"What the hell just happened?" he asked She gave a shaky laugh and wiped a hand across her wet face. A useless gesture given the rain. "I now understand what Karl meant with his warning. And he was right."
He raised a hand and gently brushed bedraggled strands of hair from her cheek. She didn't see the point since the wind and the rain just flung them back, but she wasn't about to object, either. Call her weak, but his touch was too comforting.
Too good.
"Then you called the storm to you?"
She shook her head. "It called me." She hesitated. "It felt so right, so damn pleasurable, like I was coming home to the arms of a lover long missed. It would have been very easy to get lost in that feeling, as Karl warned."
He frowned. "So what bought you back?"
"You did." She paused. "And Joe."
She'd half expected her answer to annoy or anger him, but he merely raised his eyes. "Both of us?"
"Yes. Joe contacted me, briefly halting the call of the storm.
And then you touched me, loosening the storm's grip and bringing me back."
He studied her for a moment, and then said, "That would suggest that this mysterious Joe and I might both play a part as the position of base. And yet, according to what Karl has learned, there is only one base for a walker."
She blew out a breath, her gaze searching his. "You know, I thought you'd be pissed off about that—about possibly being my base, that is."
"I am, but there's no use raging against something I can do nothing about." He hesitated. "Besides, we still know very little about walkers as a race. Karl's journal may have proven useful so far, but it isn't as in-depth as we need it to be. Even if the dominant genes in you are walker, we will still be uncovering information and truths as we run through trials and experiments. And it is by no means certain that I or this Joe are your base. Nor is it certain that actually you need one."
If what had just happened was any indication, she did. But he knew that as much as she did. "But if it is true, you could end up tied to me. We both know you don't want that."
"I don't need that, true." He brushed his thumb down her cheek, lightly touching the corner of her mouth. Another tremor ran through her and, like before, it had nothing to do with the night or the rain or the fact she was drenched. He half smiled and added, "But if I have to be stuck with someone on a working level, then I guess I could do worse."
"Well, gee," she said dryly, glad the tremor running though her limbs wasn't evident in her voice, "that is such an overwhelmingly sentimental statement that I might just cry."
He chuckled softly and dropped his hand to her shoulder again. "Look, I've been a bastard the last few months, and I will undoubtedly be a bastard again in the future. I don't want a partner, be it you or the idiot they've now assigned me. I play solo. I have to. It's not personal."
"None of which is answering my original concern."
"I know." His touch left her shoulders as he sat back on his heels, and the night suddenly felt colder. "It's not that I don't want any sort of connection with you—"
"It's just that you're afraid of it," she finished for him.
A wry smile touched his lips. "Not afraid. Just wary. The more people in my life that I care about, the more targets I give my enemies."
"That doesn't mean we can't be friends." Nor did it mean he cared about her. Damn it, she wasn't even sure if he was physically attracted. His touch here tonight may have been nothing more than concern for a workmate. And she couldn't take the word of his sister to heart. After all, most families weren't above a bit of matchmaking if they felt the mix was right.
Not that she had firsthand experience of families and their habits, having never had a family herself. But she'd seen it often enough in her years as a cop, observing from the sidelines the interplay between her workmates and their families.
He rose to his feet in one smooth, almost elegant, gesture and held out his hand. "I think we'd better get out of this storm."