Mind Games

MIND GAMES By

Amanda Steiger

MIND GAMES

Amanda Steiger

© copyright September 2008, Amanda Steiger Cover art by Eliza Black, © September, 2008 ISBN 978-1-60394-222-5 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Chapter One Gravel and dead leaves crunched under the tires as the gray car crept along a narrow, unpaved road. It was mid-November, and many of the trees had already lost their leaves. The branches stood bare and skeletal against the pale, cloudy sky. The car rounded a turn, and the house loomed into view through the trees. Carrie’s fingers tightened on the wheel. She swallowed hard, trying to banish the dryness in her throat. A small voice cried out inside her. Turn around. Go back. She ignored it. She’d made up her mind. She was going to put those old demons to rest, once and for all. It was just an old house, for God’s sake. It couldn’t hurt her. She hadn’t told her psychologist about her plans. She doubted he’d approve. After all, the hallucinations were under control, and the nightmares grew less and less frequent with each passing year. Dr. Martin would tell her there was no sense in agitating painful memories, that she should focus on the future, not the past. But Dr. Martin wasn’t the one who lived with those memories. Carrie knew–had known for some time–that this was something she needed to do. She wasn’t content with just burying the past. She wanted to come to terms with it. She parked and got out of the car. A chilly breeze ruffled her hair, and goosebumps rose on her arms and breasts. Carrie shivered and hugged herself, wishing she’d worn something warmer than a t-shirt and a denim jacket. She took a deep breath, raised her eyes and stared at the house. The whitewashed walls had faded to a dull, weathered gray. The windows were dark. Some kid had spray-painted the words FUCK EVERYONE on the wall in bright green. Absurdly, that made her feel better. It made the house seem more real, less like something out of a nightmare. Even so, it took all her willpower to stand her ground. Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run … as if by running far and fast enough, she could escape the memories. But she’d come to confront those very memories. Her nightmares all took place in this house. If she proved to herself that there were no monsters here, maybe this place would finally lose its power over her. Maybe she would finally have some peace. Carrie squared her shoulders and walked to the front door. Her heart thumped. She wiped sweat-damp palms on her jacket, reached out, and hesitated. The front door was already open a crack. She’d thought–hoped, maybe–that the door would be barricaded and locked, that she wouldn’t be able to get inside. Old, abandoned houses were almost always locked. Maybe some kids had found this one and broken in for kicks. She’d probably find the floor littered with beer cans and cigarette butts inside. She willed the tremor from her hand and grasped the tarnished brass knob. Rusty hinges squealed as she opened the door. A living room lay beyond. She stepped through the doorway, pulse jumping in her throat. The rotted floorboards creaked beneath her feet. Carrie looked around. The faded, yellowish wallpaper had peeled in places, like diseased skin. The curtains hung in ragged shreds. An old couch stood beneath the window, its upholstery torn. Stuffing and

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springs poked out. An overpowering smell of mold and decay hung in the air, and she pressed a hand over her nose and mouth. Dim memories stirred in the depths of Carrie’s mind. Fear trickled like ice-water down her spine, but she stepped forward, deeper into the house. She walked through another doorway, into a dark, musty kitchen. The smell was worse here. She took a small flashlight from her pocket and switched it on. The yellow beam swept over a curling linoleum floor. A fat, black spider scurried away from her feet. She swept the flashlight’s beam across the kitchen, illuminating old cupboards, half-open and empty. A dead mouse, dried out with age, lay in one open cabinet. She saw the gleam of a knife, gasped, and took a step back … then let out a shuddering breath. The knife was stuck upright in the tabletop, as if someone had slammed it point-down into the wood, but both knife and table were dull with dust. Cobwebs covered every surface. No one had been here in years. She walked deeper, down a narrow hall. The floorboards creaked underfoot. The white walls were blotched with runny, yellow stains, as if wetness and filth had leaked through. She walked past a dark, smeared handprint on the wallpaper. It looked like a child’s handprint. She looked closer, sweeping her flashlight over it. The dark substance was blood, so old it was almost black. Her throat tightened. She heard a faint sound, like a sigh, and her head jerked up. She stood motionless, listening. Silence. Carrie took a deep breath. Just the house settling. She kept walking. Ahead, she saw the thing she’d dreaded most, the door which led into the basement. She wet her dry lips and reached out to touch the rough wood grain with her fingertips. She gave it a light push, and it glided open, eerily silent, revealing a set of cement steps leading down into darkness. She stood at the top of the stairs, shaking. The beam of her flashlight seemed suddenly feeble, a tiny light swallowed up by that thick darkness. A memory flashed inside her head like a sudden, bright light, and she was nine years old again. Ropes chafed her wrists and ankles, and a man stared down at her, lank, brown hair hanging around a gaunt face. His mouth stretched wide in a terrible grin, baring his white teeth to the gums, and a wet, red tongue crept out to wet his lips, as if he were imagining what she would taste like. Carrie shook her head, hard. That man was dead. She stared into the darkness, and a hot spark of anger leapt in her chest. “I’m not afraid of you anymore,” she said. Her voice sounded very loud in the silence. “You weren’t a monster or a demon. Just a sad, sick, twisted man.” Is that so? whispered a deep, hoarse voice. She spun around, breathing rapidly. But of course there was no one there. The voice chuckled, a thick, wet sound, like mud. If you’re not afraid of me anymore, why don’t you go downstairs? A soft moan escaped her throat. She backed away from the dark doorway. “You’re not real!” Tears stung her eyes. Her harsh, panicked breathing echoed through the silence. “You’re just in my head!” Low, cold laughter echoed through her mind. I’m down there in the darkness, the voice whispered. And I’m coming out. I’m coming to get you. I’ll drag you down into hell with me, and we’ll play together again, just like old times. We’ll have such fun, you and I.

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The flashlight slipped from her fingers. She ran out of the house. She stumbled, fell, skinned her knee, leapt to her feet and ran to her car. She flung open the door, got in and started the engine. The voice in her mind was still laughing as she turned the car, half-blinded by tears, and drove away. **** Alone in her apartment, later that night, she called her psychiatrist and scheduled an appointment. “Four o’clock, then? Okay.” She hung up and sank to the couch with a sigh. How many times would the doctors have to adjust the dosage of her medication before her auditory hallucinations went away for good? She’d thought she was cured. It had been over a year since she’d heard that voice. There were still nightmares, of course, but she could deal with those. When the nightmares invaded her waking mind, however, she started to wonder if she was destined to wind up in a padded room. What if it wasn’t a hallucination? What if, somehow …? Carrie shook her head. If she allowed herself to start believing the voice was real, she really would end up in a padded room. She had to keep a firm grip on reality. Dacy was long dead. She’d identified the body herself. Dead people could not talk. It was just her own brain playing tricks. She repeated these facts to herself as she stood and walked into the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea and a hot bath would soothe her nerves. Her cell phone’s ring-tone went off, and she gave a start. Carrie sighed and picked up the phone. “Hello?” Her voice emerged weak and hoarse, as if she had a bad cold. “Hi, Carrie.” “Oh. Hey, Elena.” “Are you okay? You don’t sound good.” “I’m fine. Just tired. I had a long day.” Of course there was more to it, but right now, she was just too mentally and emotionally worn out to tell the truth. Besides, Elena wouldn’t understand. Like Dr. Martin, she’d say Carrie was crazy for visiting the house where she’d been kidnapped and tortured as a child. Maybe she’d be right. Carrie’s attempt to confront her fears certainly hadn’t done much good. “Did something happen at work?” asked Elena. “Nothing out of the ordinary. The store was really busy all afternoon, and I got a few bitchy customers. I just need to relax. Thought I might take a bath and read for awhile.” “Shoot. Does that mean you don’t want to go out tonight?” She considered. “I could use some fun.” Maybe a night out would keep her mind off things? She didn’t feel like sitting alone in her apartment all night, wondering and worrying about her own sanity. “What did you have in mind? A movie?” “No, I’ve got something better planned,” said Elena. “You’re not going to believe it. Rafael Samson is in Chicago tonight.” The name rang a faint bell. Maybe she had heard it on TV, or read it in a newspaper somewhere. “Who’s Rafael Samson?” “You’re serious? You haven’t heard of him? Have you been living under a log?” She laughed. “I guess I have. He must be pretty good.” “His show is supposed to be mind-blowing. My cousin went to the one in New

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York last year and she says you have to experience it to believe it.” “So what is he? Wait, I think I remember. He’s a magician, or some kind of illusionist, right?” “Not quite. He’s a telepath.” Even knowing Elena couldn’t see it, Carrie couldn’t suppress the urge to roll her eyes. “There’s no such thing as telepathy.” Elena laughed. “Oh, I know. It’s just a show. But he’s supposed to be really convincing. And it’s kind of fun to let yourself believe, just a little, that it might be real. He’s really good-looking, too. I mean, melt-in-your-mouth hot. I’ve seen him on TV. So if nothing else, there’s the eye-candy factor.” Carrie chewed her lower lip. “I don’t know. To be honest, I think I’d rather just see a movie tonight. Maybe we could go see him some other time?” “He won’t be in Chicago for long. And, well, I’ve already got the tickets,” she said, sounding sheepish. “You bought one for me, too?” “Yeah, my treat.” “Wow, you must really want to see this guy.” “I do. There’s no good movies playing this week, anyway. So can we? Please?” “Okay, you win.” Carrie found herself smiling. Elena’s enthusiasm was contagious. “So when’s the show?” “Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up at seven."

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Chapter Two “Come on, Carrie.” Elena placed her hands on her hips. “You agreed we would see this together. Why the sudden change of heart?” Carrie bit her lower lip. She and Elena stood outside the theatre, a large, stone building with wide steps leading up to tall, black double-doors. During the drive there, Carrie had been relaxed and happy. She’d even managed to forget about her frightening experience earlier that day. But as soon as they arrived, a chill raced down her spine, and goose-bumps rose on her skin. The building itself was a little creepy with the gargoyles crouched on its roof and the black awning over the door, but that wasn’t the source of her discomfort. It was as if some half-buried instinct was trying to warn her of danger. The back of her neck prickled, and her stomach tightened. “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just uneasy, I guess. What if this guy really does have some sort of power?” “Weren’t you just telling me there’s no such thing? You don’t honestly believe that the guy can control minds, do you?” Carrie sighed. It had always been like this when they were kids, too. Elena had always wanted to go to the scariest movies, or try the wildest roller coasters, while Carrie held back and voiced her concerns. Sometimes she got tired of being the cautious, timid one. “Okay, okay,” she said. “We do have the tickets, after all. I guess it would be kind of stupid to turn back now.” “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.” Elena took her by the wrist and half-led, half-dragged her up the steps to the entrance doors. She pushed, and the doors creaked softly open. Carrie followed her in, holding her breath. The lobby was smaller than she’d expected–or maybe it just seemed tiny because it was so crowded–and lit by overhead lamps of ruby glass. Judging from the way the light flickered, it was either real flame or an excellent imitation. The low hum of conversation filled the air. Folds of rich, blood-red velvet cloth covered the walls. The floor was hard, black stone tile. A strange, spicy-sweet scent tickled Carrie’s nostrils. She looked around and saw incense burning in bronze wall sconces between the hanging cloths. Plumes of fragrant smoke rose into the air. In the crowded, confined room, it was difficult to avoid breathing it in. A drowsy, relaxed feeling crept over her. She felt suddenly lightheaded and buoyant, as if she could float up to the ceiling. She blinked hard and shook her head, trying to clear it. She wondered what was in that incense and if it was legal. A deep voice issued from hidden speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for a night unlike any other. Our show is about to begin. We would like to remind you that eating, drinking and flash photography are strictly prohibited.” The door at the other end of the room opened, and the crowd began to file in. A woman in a black uniform took each person’s ticket as they passed. The normality of the procedure made Carrie feel a little better. It was only a show, after all. Elena was right. It was silly to be frightened.

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They entered a large room lined with plush, red seats. The walls were of rough, black stone–or a plaster imitation of stone, perhaps–giving the room a cave-like feeling. Candles flickered on the walls. The room was large, but it didn’t feel vast and open. Maybe it was the lighting, or the shape of the walls, but the theatre felt intimate, dark and secret. The spicy-sweet incense smell still hung in the air, diluted, less potent, but present nonetheless. “They really went all-out on the ambiance,” Carrie murmured. Carrie and Elena took a seat near the back–the front rows were already full–and sat, staring at the black, velvet curtains that hid the stage from view. After a few minutes, the overhead lights dimmed, so only the tiny, dancing flames of the candles remained. Carrie sat in total darkness, hands curled into tight fists. The curtains parted, and a spotlight fell on the center of the stage. A man stepped forward, into the light. Carrie’s heartbeat quickened. “See?” Elena whispered. “I told you he was hot.” Hot didn’t really cover it. He was stunning. Rafael Samson was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black boots, black pants (very tight pants) and a long-sleeved, black silk shirt with laces rather than buttons up the front. The first few laces had been undone to reveal a hint of smooth, hard chest. The snugness of his clothing emphasized his broad chest, his narrow waist and long, slim legs. He was not overly muscular or bulky, not a body builder, but he was no lightweight, either. He was sleek and powerful, like a cougar. Ebony hair, fine as silk, spilled around his shoulders, down to nearly the middle of his back. As he moved, it swayed and shone in the dim light, shimmered, almost, as if it possessed an inner, otherworldly glow. “I’m jealous,” Elena whispered. “His hair is prettier than mine. I wonder what he uses to make it shine like that. That can’t be natural.” Carrie smiled, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man on stage. His skin was very pale, very smooth. When he stopped and faced the audience, he looked like a living marble sculpture, with his perfect, chiseled features and cool expression. Carrie didn’t know precisely what she’d expected, but even after Elena’s remarks, she hadn’t expected him to be so beautiful. That was really the only word. ‘Cute’ didn’t cover it, and ‘handsome’ sounded too rough. His face was angelic in its loveliness, but in spite of that, there was nothing feminine about him. His mouth was stern, almost ruthless, as if smiling did not come easily to him, his cheekbones high and aristocratic, and his brows were dark slashes over his cool, intense eyes. Carrie had never experienced such strong, immediate surge of lust at the sight of a man. A flush rose into her cheeks as she thought about what it would be like to run her hands over that hard, lean body. Judging from the package outlined by that snug, black leather pants, he had an enormous cock. She imagined touching it, feeling it rise and harden beneath her fingers, and the thought made her blush even harder. The slight tingling in her clit spread and deepened into a throbbing ache, a growing emptiness wanting to be filled. She took a deep breath. What had gotten into her tonight? Did that incense contain some sort of airborne aphrodisiac? The man’s pale, ice-blue eyes roved over the audience, and for a moment, they seemed to look directly into hers. She felt a jolt of shock. He couldn’t really be looking straight at her, could he? Of course not. Yet she felt the power emanating from his eyes, as if a straight line of energy, like a laser, ran from his eyes into hers. A tiny smile

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curved one corner of his perfect mouth. She had the uncomfortable feeling he had observed every wicked little thought flitting through her head. She was frozen, held tight in the grip of those eyes. Her heart pounded. Relax, said a deep, male voice. There’s nothing to be afraid of. She blinked. Who had spoken? It couldn’t have been him. His mouth hadn’t moved. And yet, a part of her was convinced that it had been him, that somehow, he had spoken to her across the room without even opening his mouth. Crazy. She took a deep breath and felt her heartbeat begin to slow. With an effort, she closed her eyes, hiding in the darkness behind her lids, hiding from the penetrating intensity of his gaze. The room suddenly seemed too hot, too stuffy, though it had felt fine to her when they first entered. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said a deep, smooth, resonant voice. It was the same voice that had spoken in her head a moment ago. Carrie was certain of it. “I am Rafael Samson. You are here tonight because you are curious about the unknown, the unusual, the things that most people dismiss as mere fiction. I am here to prove to you that telepathic powers are not a fantasy. They are quite real.” The voice was almost as powerful as his eyes. It seemed to flow through and around her. It caressed her like dark silk, touching deep, private places inside her, licking her very soul. She shivered. Just part of the show, she told herself. It had to be convincing, or it wouldn’t be compelling. Still, she dared not look him in the eye again. She kept her gaze on her hands, folded neatly in her lap. “Perhaps some among you are skeptical,” he continued, “convinced that this is a mere performance, a skillful illusion. By the end of the night, however, you will all believe. There is not a mind in this room that I cannot see into. Your every thought, your every fantasy and secret dream is laid bare before my eyes. I know the desires so dark and primal you dare not admit to anyone. I know them … and can make them come true. By entering this room, you have all placed yourselves in my hands. If there is any among you who wish to leave, do so now, for once I begin to weave my spell, your minds will no longer be your own. They will belong to me.” The words were at once sinister and seductive, like a magic spell. Carrie glanced around at the audience. They all appeared captivated, leaning forward slightly, their mouths open and eyes wide. Most of them, she noticed, were women. Probably not surprising, considering Rafael’s dark, magnetic sex appeal. She looked at Elena and saw that her face was as rapt and blank as everyone else’s. Her lips were parted, her wide eyes focused on Rafael, the pupils so large that her blue irises had almost disappeared. A chill ran up Carrie’s spine. Carrie had known Elena for years. They had been best friends since the second grade. In all that time, Carrie had never seen such an expression on her face. “Elena?” she whispered. Elena didn’t respond. “Elena,” Carrie whispered again, louder, and squeezed her friend’s arm. Elena blinked several times, then slowly turned her head to look at Carrie. Her brow furrowed. She seemed to be struggling to focus her eyes. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” “Something strange is going on. We should get out of here.” Elena smiled drowsily. “Don’t be silly.” “I repeat,” said Rafael, “if there are any among you who wish to leave, do so now.”

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A few audience members shifted uneasily. But no one left. Carrie thought about walking out. A part of her wanted to. Despite her arousal, a part of her was desperate to get out of that room, but she didn’t want to leave Elena here alone. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She tugged harder at Elena’s arm, but Elena refused to budge. Her eyes focused on Rafael. The pupils dilated and swallowed up her irises once again, leaving her eyes dark and empty, like bottomless wells. Carrie’s jaw clenched. “I will need one of you,” said Rafael. His eyes swept over the crowd. Then they focused on Carrie’s. “You,” he said. He stretched out a hand, and one finger curled, beckoning. “Come to the stage, please.” Her mouth was dry. She started to shake her head, but found she was no longer in control of her body. Terrified, she stared into his eyes. She felt herself rise to her feet, and she stepped into the aisle, as if an unseen force were directing her movements, controlling her like a puppet. She tried to fight the compulsion, but a drowsy lassitude crept over her mind and fighting didn’t seem worth the trouble. She walked down the aisle, feet scarcely touching the floor. She seemed to be floating as she stepped onto the stage and tilted her head back to meet Rafael’s gaze. His eyes held her. They seemed to be the only thing in the world. This close, she could see that they were more silver than blue, a strange, unearthly color, like some brilliant metal. “Your name is Carrie,” he said in that velvet voice, “is that right?” “Yes,” she heard her own voice reply. “A lovely name.” He lifted her hand in his own, and she noticed he was wearing black, leather gloves. He brushed a kiss across the back of her hand, so light it was like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, but it set her nerves aflame. Heat rose into her cheeks. “Now, Carrie, I want you to close your eyes.” She felt her eyelids growing heavy. Panic flared inside her, and she fought the urge to close them. Her breathing quickened. His voice spoke in her mind. Don’t resist me, it warned. Just relax. I will not harm you. No! she thought. Get out of my mind! Do not be frightened. The piercing silver eyes stared deep into hers. Trust in me. Relax. She could feel his mind weaving its way into hers. She tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle. Again, drowsiness washed over her mind. She felt disconnected from everything, simply observing the world while another force controlled her body and thoughts. Rafael turned to the audience. They all stared at him, eyes wide. “This woman is in my power,” he said. “For the next few minutes, she will do anything I ask of her. If I suggest it, she will fall deeply in love with me. If I tell her she is an eagle, she will believe she is flying.” Somewhere deep inside her mind, she struggled against the unnatural calm, the drowsy euphoria. Slowly, it subsided, and fear spiked inside her. Fear was good. Fear helped her fight it. She held tight to her fear, fed it. Her heart thudded against the wall of her chest. She felt its frantic beat throughout her entire body. Her fingers twitched. Sweat trickled down her sides, her neck. Rafael turned to face her. His eyes narrowed. She felt his power emanating into

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her mind, like waves washing over her. She fought it with all her strength, like a swimmer struggling to stay afloat in a stormy ocean. It was all she could do not to let go and sink into the darkness below, especially when he made that darkness seem so appealing, so pleasant and peaceful. His voice coiled around her like velvet ropes. You are resisting again. Let go. I promise, I will not allow you to feel any fear or discomfort, but you must let me guide your thoughts. She tried to look away, but he gripped her chin between a thumb and forefinger, anchoring her face in place. His eyes stared into hers. Those eyes were the only thing in the world. They filled her vision, her mind. She was lost, floating in the sea of his eyes. Surrender to me, and I will show you bliss, his voice whispered, a soft seduction. She pushed back with everything inside her, but it was like trying to escape quicksand. She was being pulled under again. No! In a sudden burst of strength, she jerked her chin from his hand and stumbled backwards, breathing hard. Sweat beaded on her brow. “No,” she said aloud. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, yet it took all her strength to say it. For a moment, Rafael was silent. His eyes darkened. They remained locked onto hers, yet she no longer felt their pull, no longer felt as if she were drowning inside them. He spoke, his voice cool and clear. “It appears this woman does not wish to taste the ecstasy I offer. She fears my power. She will not let go, will not allow me to fully enter her mind. A shame. You may return to your seat, Carrie.” She wanted to scream, to rail at him, but her voice had deserted her. Her throat was so dry, she couldn’t muster more than a squeak. She turned away from him. Shaking, she walked off the stage and down the aisle. Her pounding heartbeat filled her ears. “Now,” said Rafael, “would anyone else care to volunteer?” Hands shot up, waving. Audience members squealed eagerly, calling out to him. “You.” Rafael pointed to a brunette in the first row. The girl walked onto the stage and stood before him. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, but as he stared into her eyes, all emotions emptied from her face. “Your name is Hannah, correct?” “Yes,” the girl said. Her voice was empty and distant, like her expression. Carrie found Elena, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Elena blinked at her. “Carrie? What are you doing?” “We’re leaving,” said Carrie. “Right now.” She dragged Elena out of the auditorium, through the lobby. Elena dug her heels into the floor. “We can’t go outside right now, it’s raining!” She pulled her hand free of Carrie’s grip, planted her fists on her hips and frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” She stared into Elena’s eyes and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “That man is the real thing. He had control of my mind. He made me come up to that stage.” Elena frowned. “You can’t be serious.” “I’ve never been more serious in my life. Didn’t you feel anything strange?” She hesitated. “I felt … I don’t know. Sort of spaced out. It was like being drunk, but not quite.” Her eyes went out of focus. “It was amazing, though. His voice.” She sighed softly. “I could listen to that voice all day.” Her eyelids lowered over her soft, unfocused eyes, and her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, which looked plump and slightly redder than usual, as if she’d just been kissed.

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Carrie swallowed, her mouth dry. Had she looked like that while she was under Rafael’s spell? Could free will be stolen so easily? She grabbed Elena’s wrist again. “Listen, we have to go. Now. Rain or no rain.” Elena shook her head. “Are you kidding? We’re parked a mile away, and it’s pouring out there. Besides, I want to meet Rafael after the show. The sign said he’d be available afterwards to sign autographs. I’m going to see if I can get one.” Carrie stared at her in disbelief. Was she still under his spell, even now? “Have you heard a single word I’ve said?” she asked. “The man is some kind of demon!” “Listen to yourself. A demon? What’s the matter, Carrie? You’re usually more sensible than this. You’re the one who’s always telling me not to let my imagination run away with me.” “This wasn’t my imagination,” said Carrie. She drew in a slow breath. “I can’t understand why you’re not scared. Didn’t you feel it? His power? It was like some kind of drug. I never would have volunteered if I’d been in control of my actions. You know I never volunteer for stuff like this.” “He just has a very magnetic personality,” said Elena. “Good stage presence.” But she looked confused, and a little uneasy. “I have to admit, it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever felt. But, Carrie, you’ve always told me how important it is to keep a firm grip on reality.” Carrie’s conviction wavered. Was Elena right? Was she overreacting? Elena lay a hand on her arm. “I’m going back in, okay?” “Elena!” “I paid good money for this show, and I want to see the rest of it. You can wait out here if you like.” Carrie lowered her eyes. Her jaw muscles tightened. “Fine.” Elena went back into the auditorium. Carrie stood in the lobby, arms crossed over her chest, and stared at the floor. The incense made her dizzy, so she stepped outside. She stood beneath the tiny awning for a few minutes, watching the rain drizzle from the edges. A gust of wind spattered rain onto her face and shirt, and she retreated back into the warm, dry lobby. From beyond the closed doors, she heard gasps of awe, excited cries and thunderous applause. At last, the doors to the auditorium burst open and people poured out, chattering excitedly. Elena walked up to her with a grin. “You missed so much. Oh, Carrie, I wish you’d seen it!” Carrie looked through the open doors, into the auditorium, and saw Rafael standing at the base of the stage. He was talking to a group of women. They stared at him raptly, like a bunch of hungry dogs staring at a steak. Elena’s eyes brightened. “Oh, there he is!” she gasped, and hurried into the auditorium before Carrie could stop her. Carrie clenched her jaw and ran after her friend. She knew she should just leave, but the thought of abandoning Elena here was too much for her. As she approached, Rafael turned to face her. His eyes focused on hers. Carrie stopped. Her breath caught in her throat as the full force of those eyes slammed into her. Her heartbeat stuttered. The cool, silver eyes studied her face. They were probing, intent. Was it her imagination, or were his pupils more oval-shaped than round, like the eyes of a cat?

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“Hello, Carrie,” he said. His deep, soft voice resonated in the center of her head, the pit of her stomach. She was astonished, and mortified, to feel herself getting wet. She glared at him. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “Your show was incredible,” said Elena, gazing up at Rafael. Her eyes had gone soft and unfocused again. “You are too kind,” said Rafael, a slight smile on his perfect, chiseled lips. His gaze shifted to Carrie and sharpened. “I noticed you left rather quickly. Is everything all right?” “No,” she said flatly. Her heart pounded. She avoided his eyes, afraid that if she met them, she’d fall under their spell again. No one should have eyes like that. “I want to speak to you.” And this time, she vowed, she would not let him take control of her. He raised an eyebrow. “If you wish to discuss what happened during the show, I would prefer we do so in private.” “Forget it.” At her sides, her hands clenched into tight fists, nails biting into her palms. She was terrified, but she was also furious, and determined not to let him intimidate her. “We discuss it right here.” “My dear, I will not discuss the secrets of my trade where any stranger might overhear. I am a magician, and magicians must protect their secrets. Surely you understand. I will explain everything to you, but I will not do so out in the open. Come with me.” Before she had a chance to refuse again, he turned and strode through a door in the back of the auditorium. The door swung shut behind him. “Damn it,” Carrie whispered. But she wasn’t about to give up now. She walked toward the door. “Carrie?” Elena caught her arm. “Wait here. And if I don’t come out within fifteen minutes, call the police.” “For God’s sake, why? What’s going on?” “Just do it.” Carrie tugged her arm free of Elena’s grip. She hoped she wasn’t doing something very stupid, but she needed to confront him, needed to understand just what he had done to her. He’d used her, exploited her for the purpose of entertainment. If she just let him get away with it, she’d never know any peace. She walked through the door and into a small dressing room. The walls were bare, save for a full-length mirror, and the carpet was a dingy bluish brown. Rafael stood, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. His posture was loose and casual, yet even in a relaxed state, he projected danger. He was like a tiger lounging in the grass. He smiled at her, his eyes molten silver. “What did you do to me?” “I didn’t do anything. You volunteered.” “Bullshit. You were controlling me.” She realized she was shaking and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Maddeningly, his smile remained in place. “Don’t you think that’s a bit farfetched?” “I would have said so before I came here, but I know what I felt. You were controlling my movements as if I were a puppet.” “Hypnotic suggestion,” he said. “That’s all it was. The power of suggestion can be very potent. My show is only that. A show. You thought you were under my power because I suggested it to you and because you allowed yourself to believe it.”

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“Nice try, but I’ve been hypnotized before. I know what it’s like. It’s absolutely nothing like what I experienced when I walked up to that stage. Ordinary hypnotism only works with the consent and cooperation of the individual. You have a very real power, and you’re using it in a very unethical way.” “Assuming, for the moment, that I do have this power, how am I using it unethically?” “You don’t think it’s unethical to force your will on someone else and terrify her out of her wits for the sake of a stupid show?” Her voice rose, despite her effort to keep it calm and level. Heat rose into her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry. “Any of those women would have volunteered for you and been happy to do it! Most of the audience members were practically drooling. You could have chosen anyone. But you picked me. You forced me. Why? Because you knew I was afraid of you? Do you get off on that, or something?” His smile faded. “It was not my intention to frighten you.” “You never answered the question. I asked you why you chose me.” “Because I was intrigued by you.” Carrie stared at him, bewildered. “But … why?” “I sensed that you were different from the others. They were all drawn immediately into my spell. It was what they came for, to relinquish control of their minds, temporarily, to a stronger will. They sought the thrill of complete submission. You felt my power and resisted it. It has been a very long time since anyone has resisted me. Most people, I have found, are quite eager to be controlled, to abandon themselves to compulsion. Most people are willing to relinquish their willpower under the slightest mental pressure.” “So you admit it. You do have some sort of power. What you’re doing here can’t possibly be legal.” He chuckled. “I think you would have a very hard time convincing the authorities that there is actual mind-control going on here. Even if you could drag the police to this place to investigate they would see only what I wanted them to see.” His eyes narrowed, appraising her coolly, and suddenly she was afraid. What sort of stupid mistake had she made in coming here? There was no telling what sort of power this man had. Why had she been so foolishly confident she’d be able to resist him? She took a step back. She felt like a rabbit in the same room with a hungry cougar. She wondered if there was anything in the room she could use as a weapon, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Rafael’s. Her thoughts were frozen, her mind paralyzed. He took a step toward her. A tremor ran through her body as his large hands framed her face. They were warm. Somehow, she hadn’t expected that. His skin was so smooth, so perfect, like marble. Maybe she’d assumed it would be cool, like marble. “My powers are greater than you can imagine,” he said softly. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, a feather-soft touch. Tiny thrills of electricity raced through her. She placed a hand on his chest, pushed him away, and stepped backwards. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. That simple expression told her a great deal. He wasn’t accustomed to being defied, not even in small ways. He was used to women fawning over him and letting him toy with their minds. She felt a hot flash of anger and turned away. “I don’t know why I ever came here,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

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He caught her wrist. She tensed. “Wait,” he said. “I wish to speak to you.” “Why?” she asked, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her fear. “I told you. You intrigue me. And you are intrigued by me.” “No. I’m not.” “You’re lying.” His voice was low, silky, cold. “I see the truth in your mind. You are frightened of me and intrigued by me at the same time. There is no point in denying it. You want to find out what I am all about, how I can do what I do.” He smiled. “And how I can sleep with a clean conscience when I make my living turning people into helpless puppets for the amusement of the crowds.” She looked down at her wrist, still trapped in his grip, and pulled. “Let go of me.” He released her, and she took a step back, then another, until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just why are you so curious about me, anyway? There must be others who resist you.” “Far fewer than you might imagine. As I said, people like to be controlled. They will allow themselves to be led by leaders, by their communities or peers, by the media. Anything, really, as long as it frees them from the burden of thinking.” “So you feel perfectly fine exploiting them, is that it? Because they’re all just sheep to you?” He shrugged. “It’s not exploitation if they want it. No one is forced to come to my shows.” “But they assume it’s just illusion. They don’t know the truth.” “I warned them, didn’t I? I gave them every opportunity to leave. But no one ever does.” “Because by that point, they’re already in your power. I saw the look on Elena’s face. There was no one home. She was under your control from the moment you opened your mouth. Your voice is like some kind of … of auditory date-rape drug.” It sounded absurd, even to her own ears, but she knew what she’d seen. She glared at him, daring him to challenge her assertion. “Why, then, were you able to resist me? Why her, and not you?” Carrie hesitated. “I don’t know.” “Because she wanted to be controlled, of course. They all do. A few fight back at first, out of fear, but they always give in once they realize that obedience is far more comfortable, more … pleasurable.” He smiled, showing just a hint of his white, white teeth. “Except for you. You kept fighting me. And your mind is structured differently from any other I’ve encountered. I would like to examine it more closely, but I have a feeling you would object to that.” “Yes, I would, actually.” “Not that I would need your consent, you understand.” He took a step closer. He leaned toward her, until their faces were inches apart. She found herself looking straight into the blackness of his strange, oval-shaped pupils. Deep within that blackness, she could see a light, twin blue flames dancing, like a candle at the bottom of an empty well. She stared into the flickering, unearthly glow, compelled … then shut her eyes tightly. Her heart pounded so hard it made her dizzy. Her mind spun. His will pushed harder into hers, encouraging her to let go, to let her thoughts dissolve.

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No! She fought the compulsion. She recited the multiplication tables in her head, forced herself to focus on only that. Gradually, the feeling receded. She opened her eyes, panting. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. She gulped. “What are you?” “That is not an easy question to answer, my dear,” he said. She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected pain in his voice. Or was it only in her mind? Maybe, she thought, it was another trick of his, a way of softening her guards. She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I need to go. I told Elena to call the police if I wasn’t out within fifteen minutes.” “You needn’t worry about that. I sensed her starting to get nervous, so I froze her thoughts.” “You what?” “See for yourself.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, opened the door and guided her through. Elena stood perfectly still, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and empty. Carrie gasped and spun around to face Rafael. “What did you do to her?” “Nothing. Nothing permanent, anyway. I simply locked her mind in place.” He snapped a finger in front of her open eyes. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Let her go.” “In a moment. I wish to speak to you a bit longer.” “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?” Carrie looked at Elena, her chest tight. She prayed that Rafael was telling the truth, and that whatever he’d done to her, it would not have any permanent effect. If not for the occasional blink of her eyes, Elena would have resembled a statue, and the blinking was simply a reflex, and automatic response. Her mind, the part of her that made her Elena, had been switched off. Carrie shuddered. “If it helps,” said Rafael, his voice curiously gentle, “think of it as a type of sleep. The only difference is that her eyes are open. If you like, I will give her a pleasant dream.” “I think you’ve tampered with her mind enough.” He shrugged. “As you wish. Will you step back inside the dressing room with me?” “We can talk out here,” she said. “There’s no one around.” “Very well, then.” He smiled, his eyes alight with amusement, as if at a private joke. “What is it?” she asked. “You are very protective of your friend, are you not?” he asked. “Well, of course. She’s my friend. I care about her.” “She may be the bolder,” said Rafael, “but you are stronger and wiser, though I’m not sure you realize it. You have always watched out for her. That is why you remained, is it not? You wanted to run when you realized that my power was real, but you dared not leave her alone.” “I … yes.” Carrie bit her lower lip. “You won’t hurt her?” “No. She is safe.” She took a deep breath. “What do you want with me?” “I wish to speak to you again. Sometime soon. This is not really the proper

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environment for a long conversation. Perhaps tomorrow evening, if you aren’t busy? Ah, but I see that you’re not. You work until four o’clock, and you were planning to spend the night at home.” “Stop reading my thoughts. If you want to know something, just ask.” “I am accustomed to getting the answers I need from people’s minds. It’s much more convenient. And that way, I can be sure that I’m getting the truth.” “I would have told you the truth. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to be spending anymore time with you.” “You aren’t the least bit curious about me?” “No.” His eyes narrowed. “You are lying.” “All right. Fine. Maybe I’m a little bit curious. But not curious enough. I don’t like having my private thoughts spied on.” “What if I were to promise you that I would refrain from reading your thoughts and using my power on you during our time together?” She paused. She didn’t trust him. She should stay the hell away from him. But she was curious, in spite of her fear. She wanted to know about his power, if there were others like him, or if he was alone. And she especially wanted to know about that blue light in his eyes, and what it meant. But did she dare? Was it worth the risk? “I do not break my word,” said Rafael. Carrie looked at Elena’s blank face. Did she even have a choice? If Rafael wanted, he could threaten Elena to force Carrie’s compliance. “If I wanted to force your compliance, I would not have to threaten anyone,” said Rafael. “Just because you can resist my power for awhile does not mean you could do so indefinitely. But that’s not the way I want it to happen. I want you to agree to this of your own free will. I want you awake and aware. It is your mind that interests me, my dear Carrie. If I had to turn you into an automaton to achieve my end, it would defeat the whole purpose.” He stared into her eyes. “Just one evening in your company. That is all I ask.” She wet her lips. Her heart galloped like a runaway horse. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, and we can talk, if that’s what you want. But that’s all we’re going to do, okay? After an hour, we go our separate ways. Also, please stop calling me ‘dear.’ We hardly know each other.” “So stingy,” he said, “but if those are your conditions .…” “They are.” “Very well.” “Where are we going, anyway?” asked Carrie. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll be in touch.” She sighed. Suddenly, everything inside her ached. She was so tired. She just wanted to go home, lay down and forget about this whole crazy, confusing day. “Okay. Will you wake up Elena now? Please? I hate seeing her like this.” “Very well.” He looked into those empty, blue eyes. “Elena.” At the sound of her name, Elena’s eyes moved toward his voice, though her expression didn’t change. “Awaken.” Elena blinked several times, a small furrow appearing between her eyes. She

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looked from Carrie to Rafael, and back again. “I … I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I must have been daydreaming. What was I talking about?” “I was just telling you and your friend that I must be on my way,” said Rafael, “but it’s been a delight speaking to you. Both of you.” He smiled. Elena flushed and lowered her eyes shyly. “I, um … well, it was very nice speaking to you. How much longer will you be in town?” “Only a few more days,” said Rafael, “but perhaps I will stop in this area again next year. I travel a great deal. In this business, it is a necessity. Drive safely.” He turned. Carrie stared at his retreating back for a moment, then turned away. “Let’s go, Elena.”

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Chapter Three “You’re going on a date? With him?” Carrie winced at the volume of Elena’s voice. “Keep your eyes on the road,” she said. “You’re going to veer off into a ditch or something. Anyway, it’s not really a date. He just wants to talk.” “Oh, come on, Carrie. Since when does a guy ever want to ‘just talk?’ It’s a date. You and Rafael! It’s like getting a date with a rock star, or something.” “He’s not that famous.” Elena shook her head, but she was grinning. “You’re unbelievable. If I were in your shoes I’d be bragging to everyone I knew, and here you are, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal.” “I’m telling you, Elena, it’s not a date. I mean, he’s probably got groupies following him around everywhere he goes. He doesn’t need to date women to get laid. Women take a number and queue up in front of his bed.” She heard a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. “It’s just a … you know. A business thing.” Elena tilted her head. “Business?” “Something like that. He wants feedback on his show. Constructive criticism. That sort of thing. I was his volunteer–sort of–so he’s interested in my perspective.” The words sounded hollow and unconvincing even to Carrie’s ears. “Oh,” said Elena. She looked puzzled, but asked no more questions for the rest of the drive. She dropped Carrie off in front of her apartment. “Thanks,” said Carrie, stepping out of the car. “No problem.” “And Elena? Be careful.” Elena looked up at her, head tilted. “Of what?” “Nothing. Just be careful. Promise me?” “Okay,” said Elena, frowning. “Sure. I’ll see you later.” “See you.” Elena drove away, leaving Carrie alone, standing on the sidewalk. She watched the car until it vanished around a corner, then turned and walked up to her building. As she unlocked the door, she thought back over her experiences over the past few hours. They had begun to seem dreamlike and unreal. Had that bizarre conversation really occurred between Rafael and herself? Had she really told him that she’d meet him tomorrow? She hadn’t told him her address, or any information that would help him contact her. But then, if he really could read her mind, he wouldn’t need her to tell him. The elevator was broken again–an out of order sign had been taped to the door–so she walked up the stairs to her floor, then down the narrow, carpeted hall, to her door. Her apartment was small and cluttered. Most of her furniture had been passed down from relatives or bought from garage sales and thrift stores, so it didn’t match. The

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faded green couch looked odd next to the red armchair. She liked to think the clashing colors gave her home character, though it probably just made it look chaotic. Chaotic or not, she was glad to be back in familiar surroundings. She showered, slipped into a soft, pink robe, heated a cup of herbal tea and sat down at her computer to check her e-mail. The normality of her evening routine made her experiences at the club seem even more far away, and she began to suspect that she had imagined it … or parts of it, anyway. Certainly, she had imagined the blue light in his eyes, and the experience of being controlled by him. There was no such thing as mind-control. Not real mind-control. Maybe she was just a bit more suggestible than she would like to believe. She knew that being under hypnotic suggestion could create powerful, vivid experiences and sensations. Maybe that was all it was. She had let herself be manipulated by a skilled charlatan. She felt a flicker of anger, but suppressed it as she opened her e-mail program. It wasn’t worth getting worked up over. She deleted a few spam messages, then froze. There was an address there she had never seen before, and the subject line read, “Dear Carrie.” There was something odd and quaint about addressing an e-mail as if it were an actual letter. It reminded her of the way Rafael spoke. Old-fashioned, formal. Her hand trembled as she clicked on the message. Her finger hovered over the delete key. It was probably just another spam, anyway, she told herself. The fact that it was addressed to her by name didn’t mean anything. It was easy for spammers to learn peoples’ names these days. Almost against her will, she opened it. Her eyes moved over the lines on the screen. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Meet me in the café on Dogwood Lane, the one where you used to read on Saturdays. Eight o’clock. Carrie closed the e-mail and swiveled her chair away from the computer. She stared into space, her hands balled into tight fists in her lap. How had he gotten her email address? Had he plucked it from her memory? She wasn’t going, she told herself firmly. It had been a bad idea to agree to this in the first place. He was too dangerous. She was supposed to be the sensible one, the level-headed one. Elena was the one always getting infatuated with dangerous men. The thought startled her. Was she infatuated with him? She had to admit that the thought of him gave her a fluttery feeling in her stomach that wasn’t entirely due to fear. But he wasn’t trustworthy. At best, he was a clever con-artist, and at worst … God only knew. She stood and paced. She wasn’t at all sure this was a good idea, but she had promised him she would meet him tomorrow, and Carrie had never broken a promise. Promises meant something to her. Her stomach clenched as uncertainty nibbled away at her resolve. She would sleep on it, she decided. Tomorrow, maybe, everything would be clearer. Hell, maybe she would wake up to realize it had all been a crazy dream. But it didn’t feel like a dream. She had a bowl of cereal–she doubted her nervous stomach could handle anything more substantial–then retired to bed. Wearing only a white, cotton t-shirt, she slid under

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the covers and nestled into the pillow, closing her eyes. She’d left her window open a crack, and a cool breeze drifted into the room. Goose-bumps broke out on her flesh, and she snuggled deeper into the covers. It soon became clear, however, that sleep would not come easily. She tossed and turned as images of Rafael filled her head. Warmth spread through her body, and she kicked off the covers. Her thoughts traced the lines of his long, lean, hard body, his curtain of raven-black hair, the angles of his face. And of course, those eyes. Those eerie, penetrating, ice-blue eyes. You like my eyes, do you? said a voice in her mind. She gasped. “Rafael!” Mortified, she pulled the covers over herself, as if he could somehow see her. “Get out of my head! You promised .…” I promised I wouldn’t read your mind when we met tomorrow, he replied. I said nothing about tonight. “It was implied,” she said. She tried to sound annoyed, but inside, she was trembling. If he could communicate with her from this distance, read her mind when he was nowhere nearby, were there any limits to his power? You are having trouble sleeping, he observed. Would you like me to help you? Or … perhaps you would like something else? Her cheeks flushed. She found herself imagining what it would be like to feel his hands on her skin, her breasts. Carrie gritted her teeth, wondering if he had done this to her somehow, tampered with her mind to make her lust after him. She was sure he could, if he wanted. Yet somehow, she didn’t believe that he had. It would be too easy, she thought, to blame this feeling on mind-control. “No,” she said, “I’m fine, thank you. I’ll read for awhile. That will help relax me.” Why will you not allow me to help you? Don’t you trust me? he asked. “Not a bit,” she said. The sound of that deep voice seemed to reverberate through every hidden chamber of her mind, her soul. His voice was magic, a spell that could steal her will as easily as it stole her breath. She shut her eyes tight, and an image swam into her head, unbidden. She saw his long, strong fingers parting the lips of her sex, exposing her wet, pink folds, saw one finger disappear into her body. She gasped. “You planted that image!” No, my dear, that was all yours, he said, sounding amused. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t even be here. I promised to talk to you tomorrow. Shouldn’t that be enough? Do you have to harass me while I’m trying to sleep?” She wondered if she was going crazy, talking to herself. She wondered if she should mention this the next time she saw her psychiatrist, then decided that she really didn’t need to go into specifics. I just thought you might like to talk, since you can’t sleep, said Rafael. I know you’re lonely. She tensed. “What makes you think that?” It’s obvious, he said. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes. This was all so strange. It was easier to believe that it was a dream, that she was already asleep. Believe that, then, said Rafael, his voice almost gentle. After all, if you’re dreaming, there’s no reason you can’t do this.

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She felt a warm pressure on her lips, and her eyes flew open, but there was nothing there. Her heartbeat quickened as the hot mouth touched her neck, then her collarbone. “What are you doing?” She gasped softly as invisible fingers brushed her nipples through the t-shirt. They were already hard, pushing against the thin cotton. She pressed her thighs together. Her nipples tingled pleasantly as his warm thumbs circled the tight buds of flesh. Do you want me to stop? he asked. Carrie didn’t reply. She knew she should tell him to leave. She had the strange feeling that this time, he would actually listen. But it felt good, and it had been so long. Very well, then, he said. She bit her lower lip as a large, strong hand slid beneath her knee-length t-shirt. His hand slid between her parted thighs until his palm rested against her bare pussy. His touch was a shock. No man had touched her there for so long. You’re not wearing panties, said Rafael. Do you always sleep without panties? “Not always,” she whispered. His palm pressed against her aroused flesh. You are very, very wet, he remarked. I’m being molested by the Invisible Man, she thought, and a crazed giggle rose up into her throat. She choked it down, heart pounding. His hand pulled back. Lift your shirt, he commanded. She obeyed as if in a trance, exposing herself completely. His hot tongue trailed slowly up her thigh, then slid into her folds. One finger grazed her clit, then traced three tiny circles around it. His tongue teased the opening of her pussy, then probed inside her. Hot sparks of pleasure danced in her flesh wherever he touched. She knew none of it was really happening, that he was just planting these sensations in her head, but God, it felt real. She shut her eyes tightly and sensed another body above her own. She could actually feel the warmth emanating from his skin, smell the warm, salty sweetness of flesh. Carrie reached up and felt his long, silky hair sliding between her fingers. She opened her eyes, and for an instant, she saw his eyes hovering above hers, blue flames burning in their depths. Close your eyes, he whispered. Her eyelids slipped shut. Something long, hard and hot slid into her. There was no pain, none of the discomfort that usually accompanied a quick penetration. There was only a deep, pleasurable ache as her body stretched open to receive him, and he slid deep into her. So tight, he sighed within her mind. So hot. His mouth found hers again, kissing her slowly, deeply, as he moved within her in long, sure strokes. She felt the pleasure building inside her, and her breathing quickened. Her body arched upward, and she cried out as she came. Dizzy, panting, wet with sweat, she opened her eyes. There was nothing to see, of course. She could no longer feel him above her or within her. She touched her pussy, and her fingers came away wet and sticky. The orgasm had been real enough, but had he been real? “Rafael?” she called softly. There was no reply. “Rafael,” she called again. Still nothing. Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away with her fingers, confused. Why was she crying? Was it because of what he’d done to her? Or was it because he

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was gone? She felt a pang in her heart, the echo of an old hurt, an old betrayal. He’d taken advantage of her and vanished. Wham, bam, without even a ‘thank you ma’am’. She guessed that shouldn’t surprise her. She’d known from the beginning he was untrustworthy. Yet the whole experience had been so strange and surreal that she wondered if it had been a hallucination. She’d never had one that long or detailed before, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. She rolled onto her side. A dozen questions whirled through her mind, but she was too tired to think. Her eyes sank shut. She was on the edge of sleep when a voice whispered in her mind. Carrie. Her eyes snapped open. That wasn’t Rafael. It was the voice of another man, a man she feared more than death itself, a man who had haunted her nightmares since she was a child. Fear clutched her chest, and a sick, sinking feeling filled her stomach. “No,” she whispered. You didn’t think I’d leave for good, did you, Carrie? he asked. A soft moan escaped her throat. “You’re dead.” Laughter, low and cold, echoed through her mind. If I was dead, he said, could I do this? Pain exploded in her head. She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard. Her back arched as white-hot fire shot down her spine and spread over her skin. She felt as though she were submerged in boiling water, as if her flesh were being peeled from the bone with sharp, hot knives. When at last the pain faded, she went limp, panting, her face wet with tears. The voice laughed in her mind as she staggered to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed an amber bottle and shook two tiny, round pills into her palm. Those won’t help you, he said. “Shut up,” said Carrie. She gulped down the pills with a mouthful of tap water and slumped, shaking, her forehead pressed against the cool, metal edge of the sink. A foggy, drugged lethargy crept over her. He cackled. I’ll be waiting for you in your dreams, he said, but the voice was already fading. “You’re not real, damn you,” she whispered. “You’re just in my mind.” Her throat knotted up. For years after her kidnapping, she’d visited different psychiatrists and tried different medicines until finally, she found a combination that silenced the demon in her head. Powerful sedatives–like the ones she’d just taken–were a last resort, one she hadn’t needed for many months. Until that day she entered the old house, she’d thought the hallucinations might be gone for good. Had she done this to herself? Had returning to that place torn open some old wound, allowed her imaginary tormentor to slip into her mind once more? She wondered if she would ever truly be free of her past. She was beginning to doubt it. Carrie straightened, took a deep breath, and went back to bed. For now, at least, the voice was gone, along with the pain. For now, that was enough. She slid beneath the covers and closed her eyes, already too sleepy to think. The drugs dragged her down into a numb and mercifully dreamless sleep.

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Chapter Four Normally, Carrie enjoyed her job. She worked in a small, independent store which sold new and used books, CDs and videos. There were countless hidden treasures for those with the patience to find them and, when business was slow, she enjoyed browsing the shelves. Time usually passed quickly. Today, however, the minutes dragged and she had to resist the urge to pace. She thought about last night. It couldn’t possibly have been real, could it? Looking back on it, now, it felt like a dream. It had to have been a dream. There was no way she would have let a near stranger do that to her, much less a near stranger she didn’t particularly like or trust. A flush rose into her face as the memories replayed themselves. She forced her mind back to the present. At last, four o’clock arrived, and she headed back to her apartment, but then there were a few more hours to kill before her meeting with Rafael, so she cleaned up and watched TV. At six-thirty, she showered and changed. Carrie tugged a brush through her short, damp, tangled hair and stared into the bathroom mirror. She sighed at her reflection. Slight and pale, with a round face and huge, brown eyes, she looked younger than her twenty-three years. She knew she wasn’t unattractive, but she also didn’t stand out much. She easily blended into a crowd. She wondered again why someone like Rafael would be so interested in her. Whatever his faults, he was certainly glamorous, exotic. Dangerous. Surely, he would have tastes to match. She smoothed her hair down as best she could, then set the brush down on her dresser and slipped into a soft, tan sweatshirt and a pair of old, comfortable jeans. The outfit wasn’t quite frumpy, but it was thoroughly non-seductive, and that was how she wanted to look. She didn’t want to give him any ideas. Of course, Rafael already knew she was attracted to him. The frumpiest outfit in the world wouldn’t convince him otherwise. She fluffed her drying hair with her fingers, glanced into the mirror one last time, and left the apartment. She walked down the street to the small coffee and sandwich shop tucked away between two larger stores. The walls were red brick and a dark green awning hung over the front door. A bell jingled overhead as she entered. Inside, it was dimly lit and cozy, with big, comfy chairs and couches available for people who wanted to sit and read while they had their coffee. There were a few round, wooden tables, as well. Rafael sat at the table near the window, leaning back in his chair. Her heartbeat quickened. It seemed strange to see him in such an ordinary environment and in casual clothes. He wore a black shirt, short-sleeved, despite the chilly weather, and a pair of snug-fitting jeans. He’d tied back his long hair in a loose ponytail. Her eyes lingered on his bare arms. With his skin as pale as it was, his nicely toned muscles and veins appeared to be carved in white marble by the hand of a master sculptor.

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It wasn’t fair, she thought, for him to have those muscles. He didn’t need them. He was capable of overpowering someone with his eyes alone. He looked up and met her gaze, and she swallowed. He had promised not to read her thoughts tonight, or try any mind games with her. Would he honor his promise? Carrie clutched the strap of her purse with tight, nervous fingers as she approached and sat across from him. “Hi,” she said. The word left her mouth as a breathless little gasp, and she winced. She had meant to show him a confident face, a don’t-fuck-with-me face, but she could already tell that it was futile. Right now, she didn’t feel very don’t-fuck-with-me, and he made it impossible to pretend. He smiled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, despite his promise. “Hello,” he said. “You look irresistible.” “I wasn’t going for ‘irresistible,’” she said. “I was going for ‘inaccessible.’ As in, ‘hands off.’” He laughed, a deep, velvet-soft laugh. “Forbidden fruit is the most tempting, is it not?” Great. Maybe she should have shown up in a thong and a skimpy top with FUCK ME written across it in glitter? She studied Rafael’s face. If he’d heard that thought he’d have something to say about it, but his expression didn’t change, so he was either keeping his promise or he had the world’s best poker face. “Okay, you said you wanted to talk,” she said. “So what did you want to talk about?” “You, of course,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone I can simply talk to like this. You have to understand, when it comes to exerting my power over others, I often don’t even have to try. My power is not something I can turn off at will. It is part of me. I can turn up the volume, so to speak, but at all times, I project a certain aura that humans– particularly women, it seems–find very appealing.” “You’re a walking ball of pheromones.” “You could put it that way.” “But I’m hardly immune to it, myself,” she said. “You’ve probably noticed that. So what makes me different?” “You are more resistant to it than the majority of people,” he said. “And even if you feel it, you don’t allow it to cloud your thinking. You have a strong sense of your own ego, of what makes you yourself. Most people don’t. Most people are simply whatever they happen to feel at the moment, which is why they’re so willing to abandon themselves to a strong sensation. It’s why humans so easily become addicted to substances that blot out their conscious minds, why they drown themselves in drink, or television, or mindless games. They are ever seeking greater, more thrilling escapes and distractions.” “I don’t think you’re being fair,” she said. “How can you make such sweeping judgments?” “Simply by observing the people around me.” “But your power influences everyone around you. You’ve said as much. Of course people seem weak and cattle-like to you. You’re so much stronger than they are and being able to manipulate them so easily makes you prejudiced. You can’t respect people you use.” His eyes narrowed a bit and she felt a flash of fear, wondering if she’d angering him, wondering what he’d do if she had. Then he smiled. “You see? This is why I

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wanted to speak to you. It’s been so long since anyone has disagreed with me, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.” He looked up. “Ah. Your cappuccino has arrived.” “I didn’t order a cappuccino.” “I ordered one for you,” he said. “How old-fashioned.” “I am an old-fashioned man, in many respects.” “I noticed.” The waiter set a large, foam-topped cup in front of Carrie, then walked away. “How do you know I even drink these?” she asked. But it was a stupid question. The same way he knew her e-mail address and her favorite coffeehouse, of course. He didn’t bother to answer. He must have realized she would figure it out on her own. He simply watched, his expression inscrutable, as she sipped her drink. “Aren’t you going to have anything?” she asked, but he shook his head. “I don’t drink coffee.” She took another sip and sighed with pleasure at the sensation of warmth that filled her belly. She looked up and met his eyes. “What is it like, being able to read minds?” Rafael leaned back. “Ah, how can I describe it to someone who has never experienced it? It is like trying to describe red to the colorblind.” “Try.” “You are curious?” “Well, of course. I mean, there’s so much information in a person’s head. How do you find what you’re looking for so quickly? Is it like looking something up with a search engine, or more like skimming through the pages of a book? Or is everything just visible to you at once?” He shrugged. “I focus on what I need to know, and the information rises to the surface. I cannot see everything at once–there are too many details to sort through–but I can often gain an immediate impression of a person from a simple glance into their thoughts. That’s how I knew, the moment I met your eyes, that you were unusual. But there is still much about you I don’t understand.” “Is this something you could always do? Reading minds, I mean.” “Ever since I was very young,” he said. “Though my powers weren’t always so strong. They grew with me. By the time I was an adult, I could control anyone. The minds of the people around me were like clay waiting to be shaped.” The words were arrogant, but there was a touch of pain, of bitterness in his voice. His jaw tightened. “I wanted someone to resist me. I didn’t want to believe that people were so feeble, so … empty. But no one ever did. You were the first in several decades to show a spark of resistance. That’s why I singled you out, you know. I needed to know just how strong you were. I needed to know if you could hold up under a direct command. And you did, quite admirably.” “And you never stopped to think about how it might make me feel?” He hesitated. “I knew you were afraid.” “And still, you went through with it.” “Perhaps it was selfish, but I was swept up in the excitement of finding a will to rival my own.” How lonely he must have been. The thought surprised her, but as soon as it

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crossed her mind, she knew it was true. With his powers, he was like a god among men. How could he have any true friends or equals? How could he not be lonely? She stared down at her cappuccino and idly traced the cup’s rim with one finger. Something occurred to her, and her head jerked up. “Wait,” she said, “you said several decades?” “Yes. Perhaps longer.” He didn’t look any older than thirty. “Just how old are you, anyway?” “Older than you would ever believe,” he said. His smile had faded. She stared into his eyes, and it seemed that she could feel the weight of years behind them, a vast sea of his memories. For a moment, she had a sense of how old he was, how much he had seen, and it frightened her. Then it was gone, and she wondered if she had imagined it. She took a deep breath. “I have to know,” she said, very quietly, “last night … did it really happen?” “What are you referring to?” he replied, his face unreadable. “Don’t toy with me. Please. Just tell me the truth.” “Sometimes the truth is complicated,” he said. “What is that supposed to mean? Were you with me last night, or not? I heard your voice in my mind. I felt your hands on me. I need to know if that was real, or if I’m completely losing it.” He paused, then sighed. “You are not insane.” “Then explain what happened.” “I was dreaming.” “You were dreaming? I don’t understand.” “Even when I sleep, my powers are active. Sometimes my subconscious mind roams. Last night, I dreamed of you. It should probably not surprise me that you shared my experiences. I already knew the pattern of your thoughts. My mind instinctively sought out yours.” Carrie looked away. She touched her lips, remembering the heat of his mouth on hers, the feel of his hands. Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered the way she had responded. “I was so confused. It felt like a dream, and yet it was so real.” She looked up. “Why did you go away afterwards? Why did you leave?” Despite her best efforts to keep her tone neutral, her voice emerged small and plaintive. “I awoke just then. It was not my choice. I did not intend to abandon you.” “Tell me the truth, Rafael.” “It is the truth.” She felt his warm, hard fingers on her chin, lifting it, and she found herself looking into his eyes. His thumb touched her lips, feather-soft, then drifted down to her neck to rest against her racing pulse. She felt it jumping beneath his thumb, as if it were trying to escape. Once again, she found herself trapped in his gaze, unable to look away. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, very quietly. “Yes,” she whispered. “But?” He raised one thick, dark brow. “But I feel sorry for you, too.” His hand dropped to his side. His expression hardened, becoming unreadable. “Why?” “You’re isolated from everyone. Your powers set you apart. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

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“I’ve grown accustomed to it.” His face was a hard mask. “I do not need your pity.” Carrie frowned. She was trying to understand him, to connect with him, and he was pulling away, retreating behind his arrogant facade. “Sorry if I bruised your ego by implying you might feel loneliness like any other human being. But then, I guess you wouldn’t like being compared to normal people, would you? You think you’re better than them, after all.” “That is not what I meant, and you know it.” “What did you mean, then? Do you think that every expression of human sympathy is an insult to your honor?” “Pity is usually reserved for the weak, is it not?” “Pity, maybe, but not compassion.” “Is there a difference?” “Of course there is! Honestly, Rafael.” A look of disbelief flashed across his face. Then he tipped his head back and laughed. Her frown deepened. “Now you’re making fun of me,” she said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. “No, no, my dear. It’s just been so long since anyone has scolded me. It is … refreshing.” He studied her face, his expression suddenly cool and serious again. He leaned toward her. “Not many would dare to scold me. I wonder if you would, if you knew all that I am capable of.” His voice had grown soft. She stared into his eyes. There were times when his pupils appeared round, like a normal person’s, and other times–like now–when they appeared as vertical slits, catlike, animalistic. Deep within those slits, she could see the blue fire dancing, beckoning her, urging her to abandon herself to those eyes, to fall under their spell. A wave of vertigo washed over her. She felt as if she were on a runaway amusement park ride, spinning out of control. Who was this man? What was he? Why did she feel so drawn to him? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. When she opened her eyes and looked into his, they were ordinary human eyes once again, the pupils round and black. She stared into them, scrutinizing their depths, but she could see no trace of the mesmerizing blue fire. “Do you still want to run away from me?” he asked. She wet her lips. “A part of me does. I still don’t think what you did to me, to everyone at that show, was right. But … I don’t believe you’re an evil person. Not really. And I’m attracted to you.” There. She had said it. As if he didn’t know already … but admitting it still took a surprising amount of courage. She couldn’t hide behind pretense, now. “Even so, I’m not sure I could ever be comfortable around you.” “I am not a comfortable person. If you wanted, I could make you comfortable with me.” He smiled, just a slight tightening of his lips. “But somehow, I don’t think you’d like that idea.” “No, I don’t want you to tamper with my emotions. Not for any reason.” She stared into his eyes, wanting him to understand how serious she was about this. “If we’re going to be spending more time together, I want to be sure that whatever I think and feel are my thoughts and feelings, not yours.”

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He studied her face. Still no crack in that blank expression. “Does that mean we are going to be spending more time together?” “Before I agree to that, we need to establish a few rules.” “Oh?” A smile grew from one corner of his mouth, as if the very idea of rules amused him. She supposed Rafael had never had to follow anyone’s rules but his own. “Yes,” she said. “Like, if you want to know something about me, you ask. You don’t go digging through my personal memories.” “I kept my promise,” he said. “I have not looked into your mind at all during our time here. But you must understand, it is difficult for me. I am so accustomed to reading people’s minds that it takes an effort not to hear your thoughts. And the temptation is more potent than you would ever believe.” “That’s my condition. I value my privacy, and if you can’t respect it, then we’re not going to get along at all.” “I can promise to make an effort. I warn you, though, I may slip up once in awhile.” She studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “I can live with that. So long as you don’t start ‘slipping up’ on purpose.” “There is another thing,” he said. “I can tune out people’s thoughts, but there is no way I can avoid sensing your emotions. I will always know what you are feeling, though I may not always know the exact reason why.” “So what do you feel from me right now?” “The same thing I’ve been feeling from you since you arrived. Anxiety and arousal. It’s possible you are feeling other, more subtle things, as well, but the strongest emotions tend to blot out the others, unless I listen very carefully.” “So there’s really no way for you to shut out emotions? Does that mean you’re just bombarded with other people’s feelings all the time?” “I wouldn’t use the word ‘bombarded.’ I am aware of them, yes, but I learned at an early age to remain detached from them. If you can imagine being in a crowded bar and hearing a constant hum of background noise, that’s what it’s like, or the closest I can come to describing it, anyway. I can’t make the noise stop, but I can ignore it, tune it out. Just as it is very difficult to ignore someone screaming in a crowded room, though, it’s harder to ignore someone who is in intense fear or pain.” He paused. “I felt your emotions very strongly last night. You were terrified of me, and yet you stayed. You stayed to protect your friend. It’s been a long time, a very long time, since I’ve encountered that sort of loyalty and strength in a human mind.” “I find that difficult to believe.” “It’s the truth.” “Maybe you’re just not looking in the right places.” “Does it make you uncomfortable, the idea that you may be different from the rest of them?” She felt a light touch on the back of her hand and looked down to see him tracing circles on her skin with one finger. She gulped, aware that her nipples had hardened beneath her sweatshirt, and wondered if he could see them. She hadn’t worn a bra. It hadn’t seemed necessary with a sweatshirt so loose and baggy, but now she wished for that extra barrier. “I just think you’re too jaded, that’s all. You see the worst in people.” “I am a realist.”

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“No. Cynicism isn’t realism. It’s just as limiting and narrow as blind optimism.” It was getting harder to form coherent sentences with him tracing patterns on her skin. Her thighs quivered, and she pressed them together. She watched, dry-mouthed, as he turned her hand over and traced a line in her palm with one finger. God, if she reacted this way to him touching her hand, what would happen if he were to touch …? “Are you going to finish your coffee?” She blinked and looked into her cup. It was still half-full. She gulped the rest down, barely tasting it. Her heart thumped in her throat as her eyes roved over his powerful hands and arms. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked. “To where?” “Nowhere in particular.” She took a deep breath. Maybe the night air would help clear her head. “Okay.” It was misting lightly when they left the coffeehouse, and the nearly full moon hung over the horizon, yellow as cheese. Carrie walked with her hands in her jeanpockets. Rafael moved beside her with an easy grace. He didn’t seem to walk so much as glide, like a swan on the water. She found herself admiring the long, clean lines of his limbs, the width of his shoulders, the way the breeze played with his hair, lifting and caressing the dark, silky locks. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through that hair, wondered whether it would be as soft as it looked. She averted her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m interested in something you mentioned last night,” he said. She looked up. “You said you’ve been under hypnosis?” “Yes. I went to a hypnotherapist a few years ago.” “For what?” “You didn’t see it in my memories?” “No, I didn’t have the chance to explore your mind as deeply as I would have liked. And now that I am forbidden to do so, I can’t satisfy my curiosity.” He smiled. “I am incredibly tempted, though. You would have no way of knowing, if I did.” “I would figure it out,” she said, though she wasn’t really sure of that. “You’re just going to have to get used to asking questions, like everyone else.” “Indeed.” He studied her face. “So why?” She paused. His eyes urged her to tell him, made her want to tell him. They were warm, liquid silver, their gaze was like a physical caress. She’d noticed that his eyes seemed to shift subtly between pale silver-blue and true silver, and she wondered what it meant. Those eyes contained so many mysteries. “I was having nightmares,” Carrie said at last, “about something that happened to me when I was younger. I couldn’t sleep. I’d tried sleeping pills, and they didn’t seem to help. I was getting desperate, so finally, I decided to see a hypnotherapist. I’d never really believed in that sort of thing, but Elena went to one when she was trying to quit smoking, and she said it really helped, so I thought I’d give it a shot.” “Did it work?” “Not immediately, but after a few sessions, the nightmares became less and less frequent. I still have them once in awhile, but I used to have them almost every night, so

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I guess the therapy must have done some good.” Rafael was silent for a moment, staring into space. “Your nightmares,” he said at last, quietly, “what were they about?” She bit her lower lip, her natural inhibitions wrestling with a strangely powerful desire to tell him. Was he planting that desire, urging her on? No, she thought. It didn’t feel like mental compulsion. She simply wanted to confide in someone. She’d been bearing this burden alone for so long. At last, she sighed, giving in. “I was kidnapped as a child,” she said. He looked at her, and some powerful emotion–shock? Anger?–leapt in his eyes. As soon as it appeared it was gone, hidden behind the cool, neutral mask. “How old were you?” “Nine. I don’t remember too many details now, which is probably a blessing, but the memories kept surfacing in my nightmares for years afterwards.” “Did they catch the man who did it?” Rafael asked. His voice was calm, controlled, but there was a tightness to it–as if, she thought, he were struggling to hold it steady. “Sort of.” Carrie lowered her eyes. “They found me in the basement of this old house in the woods, which had been abandoned for a long time before the kidnapper started using it as a hiding place. I guess he must have known the police were coming, because by the time they got there, he’d killed himself. Shot himself in the head.” “What was his name?” “Dacy. John Dacy.” Even saying the name gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. “I don’t remember anything clearly about him, and the one thing I do remember can’t possibly be true.” “What do you remember?” “That his eyes glowed green. Like a monster’s. Like I said, though, I can’t be right about that.” Rafael exhaled slowly. His jaw was tightly clenched, and the cords on his neck stood out. She could see his pulse in his throat. “Carrie, will you let me examine your memories of that incident?” She tensed. “Why?” “Because I may be able to pick up certain details you’ve repressed,” he said. She stared at the sidewalk. She realized she was trembling. “I don’t want you to see that,” she said. “What does it matter, anyway? He’s dead now.” “I am curious about those glowing green eyes you mentioned.” “But I imagined that. I must have.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself. “Please, just let it go.” He touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve upset you.” “It’s all right,” she said, and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” He slipped his arm around her and guided her to a park bench, then placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed down gently until she sat. She touched trembling fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes to hide the tears welling up in them. “Even now, almost fifteen years after it happened, I still go to pieces at the memory. You must think I’m so weak.” “Not at all. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met.” “I doubt that.” A tear slipped out from beneath her lashes and ran down her

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cheek. His thumb traced the tear’s path, wiping it away. “Do you want me to remove those memories from your mind?” She looked up in surprise. “You can do that? Erase memories?” He nodded. She hesitated. For a moment, she was tempted. To never think of it again, to have that dark shadow permanently removed from her soul … the idea was enticing. Then she shook her head. “For better or worse, those memories are a part of me,” she said. “They’ve shaped who I am. Maybe in some ways I’m stronger for having gone through that. Or maybe not. But either way, if you took them away, I wouldn’t be me.” “But you’d be happier.” She shook her head. “It would be a false happiness. Giving up my memories would be like lying to myself about what really happened.” “I must confess, I suspected you would answer that way.” His hand cupped her face, and his thumb brushed across her lips again. “Still … I wish I could ease your pain.” She shivered lightly, her eyes closing. His touch was so potent. She had never felt this way about a man before. She’d always believed that instantaneous, powerful physical reactions like these were the stuff of fantasy, or that they were reserved for people who could give themselves easily to emotion, to passion. She’d never been like that. She had always held something back, afraid to give her entire self to anyone, afraid to abandon her reservations. To discover that she could feel this way was a shock. She sensed him leaning closer. His lips touched hers, and his arms surrounded her, pulling her body against his. She moaned softly against his mouth. Her lips parted instinctively, inviting him deeper, and his tongue slid inside. His mouth was hot silk. When he pulled back, she was dizzy, breathless. “God,” she whispered, “it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone.” She stared into his eyes. “I wish I could be certain that this was real.” “What do you mean?” “This feeling.” She looked away. “This just isn’t like me. I’m normally so much more careful. I barely know you. We only just met last night! Twelve hours ago I didn’t trust you at all, and now I feel like I know you somehow, like you understand me.” She fell silent, her cheeks hot. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling.” “I know you want concrete proof that your feelings are real, but that is something I cannot offer you. I can simply promise you that I am not manipulating your emotions.” His lips brushed her cheek. She felt the heat of his breath on her neck. “I am so very tempted to read your thoughts right now.” A soft, deep chuckle escaped his throat. “I have a feeling this is going to be very frustrating, trying to respect your privacy.” “You must really enjoy reading minds,” she said. “I guess that works out well for you, considering that it’s so easy for you to do.” “On the contrary. Most people don’t have any thoughts worth reading. Having to listen to them all the time becomes tiresome very quickly. You are the exception. The more I learn about you, the more I want to know.” His tongue delicately traced the rim of her ear, and she gasped softly. “I have a feeling you are a woman with many secrets.” She struggled to collect her thoughts. “You’re one to talk. You’ve certainly got your share.”

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“Like what?” “Like that blue fire in your eyes,” she said. “Just what is that?” He was silent for a long moment. “You can see it?” “Only sometimes,” she said, and looked up. “Right now, your eyes look normal. But sometimes, when I look into them for a long time, I can see this fire dancing in them. It’s really strange.” “You are even more unusual than I thought,” he murmured. She frowned. “What does that mean?” He shook his head. “You asked that I respect your privacy, your secrets,” he said. “I ask that you do the same for me.” She sighed. “I guess I can’t argue with that. But I’m beginning to understand how frustrating it is for you.” A smile touched her lips. “It’s been longer than an hour, hasn’t it? I originally told you I’d only spend an hour with you. I guess the plan has changed.” She winced as a sudden pain lanced through her head. She touched her temples. “Carrie?” Deep in her mind, she heard a low, cold laugh. Dacy. “Oh God,” she whispered, “not now.” “Carrie, what’s wrong?” “I ... I have to go.” She lurched to her feet. Rafael grabbed her wrist. His eyes stared into hers. “Tell me what’s going on.” She struggled, breathing hard. “You don’t understand! I have to go!” Pain raked down her spine. She cried out. Rafael gripped her chin and forced her head up. His eyes locked with hers and suddenly there was nothing else. She fell toward the blue fire in his eyes, drowned in it. For a moment, all was black. When her vision cleared again, the pain was gone, and so was the voice. She touched her forehead. “What happened?” “I was wondering that, myself.” His face was grim. “A moment ago, you were perfectly calm, then suddenly you were in a panic. You cried out as if in pain.” She lowered her eyes. She wasn’t ready to tell him about the voices, not yet. It was too much to deal with right now. But she owed him some type of explanation. If their positions had been reversed, she’d want to know what was wrong. “I have a mental illness,” she said. “And you haven’t sought treatment?” “I take medication. I’m going back to the doctor to have the dosage adjusted very soon. I’m fine now, honest.” “Carrie .…” “Please,” she whispered. “I just want to go home.” He paused. “As you wish.” He offered her his arm, and she took it. They walked. Carrie was grateful for the warm, steady pressure of his arm against hers. Her racing heartbeat slowed and the fear receded. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know how you did it, but you made the pain stop. Didn’t you?” Rafael nodded. “This problem you have,” he said, “did it also start after you were kidnapped?” She nodded, eyes downcast. “I may be able to help, if you will let me.”

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“No, Rafael,” she said quietly, “this isn’t something that can be cured. The doctors all told me it’s a genetic condition, a form of schizophrenia. The stress of the kidnapping just activated something that was already there. I’ve learned to accept it. I don’t want to get my hopes up only to have them come crashing down. It’s not worth it. Besides, the problem was under control for a long time. I just need to have my medication adjusted, and I’ll be back to normal, I’m sure.” “You don’t trust me,” he said. “You’re afraid to let me inside your mind.” “It isn’t that. I just .…” She trailed off. That was part of it, but there was more. She wasn’t ready to share that part of herself with anyone. There were things she hadn’t told even her psychologist. They were just too raw, too painful. “It’s complicated.” As they neared her apartment building, she found herself walking slower, reluctant to part with him. You don’t have to, she thought. You could invite him up. The thought made her heartbeat quicken. Inviting men up to her apartment on the first date simply wasn’t something she did. But then, this was hardly a typical first date. And, she admitted to herself, she didn’t want to be alone right now. Rafael had done something to make the voice stop. Even if he couldn’t cure her permanently, he could ward off her demons, at least while he was with her. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. He stood, his pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight, watching her with those unreadable silver-blue eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He was ridiculously good-looking, like a Greek statue in the flesh, or maybe some sort of supernatural creature. She cleared her throat, looking away. She couldn’t think clearly when she was staring into those eyes. “I wondered,” she said, “if you would like to come up to my apartment and have some coffee.” She mentally kicked herself, remembering that they’d just had coffee, and that he’d said he didn’t drink it, anyway. She looked up at him and saw that he was smiling. “Yes,” he said. “I would be delighted.” “Okay,” she said, struck once again by his oddly formal, old-fashioned way of speaking. She hesitated, then unlocked the door and entered, Rafael close behind her.

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Chapter Five “Just take your shoes off on the mat,” she said. She started to take off her jacket. “Allow me,” he said, and slid her jacket off. He hung it up in the closet, exactly where she always put it. She supposed she should stop being surprised that he knew so much about her. Just having him in her apartment was strange. This was her personal space, her refuge. Only a few other people had ever set foot in her home. She didn’t have company often. Rafael strode into her living room. He seemed somehow larger than his physical size, as if his presence stretched to fill every corner. He trailed one marble-white hand over her couch. His gaze lingered on her desk, her computer, and the knickknacks scattered around. He stared at a figurine of a yellow Labrador puppy next to her keyboard. “You like dogs?” “Yes, I love them. I had a yellow Lab, growing up. I’d probably get another if I could afford a bigger place.” He picked up the figurine, examined it, and set it down carefully. Self-conscious, Carrie retreated into the kitchen. She started to pour water into the coffee machine. She’d invited him up for coffee, after all, and she needed something to do with herself. She suddenly wasn’t sure how to act around him, what to say. She heard his approaching footsteps, felt his warm hands on her shoulders. She froze. His hands rubbed her shoulders, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She leaned back against him. He kissed her jaw, then her throat. A tiny moan escaped her. Her skin tingled wherever his lips touched. “You are very beautiful,” he whispered. Before she could say anything, his mouth pressed against hers. His teeth gently tugged her lower lip as one hand slid down to cup her breast through her shirt. The nipple stiffened. His thumb traced its shape, outlined by the soft fabric of her sweater. His other hand moved further down, between her legs, to touch her aroused pussy lightly through her jeans. One finger moved slowly up and down, teasing her, stimulating the moist furrow of her sex through the denim. “You’re wet. I can feel it, even through your jeans.” His deep, smooth voice seemed to reverberate in her bones, triggering some primal reaction. Fresh wetness seeped from her pussy, tickling her folds, and she moaned, trembling against him. His strong, even teeth pressed lightly into her earlobe. He nibbled it as if it were a piece of candy. “You know, I find your body nearly as fascinating as your mind.” His hand slid beneath her sweater and found her hard nipple. He rolled it between his finger and thumb, pinched it, tugged it lightly, toyed with it. His other hand pressed more firmly between her thighs, cupped her plump mound and squeezed lightly. The touch was possessive, yet infinitely gentle. “Your flesh is so sensitive. So responsive.” She was breathing hard, cheeks flushed. She had never been more aroused. She could feel the hardness of his body against her back, could feel his erection pressing against her bottom. A voice inside her insisted that it was all happening too fast, that this wasn’t her, that the situation was spinning out of control. Yet she wanted it so much.

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“If you won’t let me take away your pain .…” He began to unbutton her jeans. “At least let me give you pleasure. I can distract you from whatever is troubling you. I can take you to a world of bliss.” She swallowed, hard. He undid the first two buttons of her jeans, exposing her panties. His fingertip touched the cleft of her pussy through the soft cotton, giving her a sharp jolt of pleasure, then moved slowly upward until it found the hard little button of her clitoris. He pressed lightly. Her mouth fell open in a soft gasp. A long, warm finger slid beneath the waistband of her panties and between the soft outer lips of her pussy, into her slick folds. Her legs quivered, threatening to give out. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted anyone to fuck her this badly. Still, a part of her balked. She gripped his wrist, moved his hand away, and buttoned up her jeans. It took all her willpower. “I don’t have sex with people unless I love them,” she said, trying to control her voice, to sound calm and rational. It was difficult. “I haven’t known you long enough to love you.” His brow furrowed. “Then you don’t want this?” “I do. I mean, my body does, but that’s not the point.” “What are you afraid of, Carrie?” His voice made her simple, common name sound beautiful and exotic. “This. You. Everything.” She paused, embarrassed, but continued, the words coming out in a rush now. “It’s been almost three years since I last had sex. I’ve only really had it once, and the experience wasn’t all that great.” “Someone hurt you?” he asked, his voice suddenly cold and dangerous. “No! I mean, not like you’re thinking. It wasn’t rape, it was just … it’s a long story.” She sighed and pulled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “If we’re going to talk, can we sit on the couch? It’s a little hard to concentrate with you fondling me like that.” He nodded and sat down, watching her intently. She felt a strange sensation, a delicate probing at the edge of her mind, and she found herself replaying the events of that night in her mind, without even intending to. When she realized what was happening, her eyes widened. “Stop it! You said you wouldn’t read my mind!” She glared at him, trying to mask the feeling of hurt and betrayal with anger. “I told you I would slip up from time to time.” She hesitated, uncertain. “I don’t understand how you can just do something like that accidentally.” “It’s surprisingly easy when you’re as accustomed to it as I am. It’s second nature to me. But I am trying. Sit down.” His voice softened. “Please.” She sat next to him, just far enough away so that their bodies didn’t touch. She could almost hear the electricity crackling between them, a blend of sexual tension and intense emotions. He met her gaze. “Tell me what happened.” She shrugged, looking away. “I had a boyfriend in my first year of college. He was nice, but he was kind of … impatient.” She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “I was still a virgin. I’d never even been kissed. I guess because of what happened to me as a child, I avoided that sort of thing. It’s not that I didn’t have any desires or fantasies, but the idea of actually acting them out was a little beyond me at that point. But Cameron–that was his name–he asked me out, and I said yes. We dated for awhile,

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maybe a few months, and he started to get more and more insistent about going all the way.” She grimaced slightly. “I can’t believe I used that phrase. Only teenagers say ‘going all the way’.” Rafael said nothing, only waited. She took a deep breath and continued. “I told him that I was nervous about it, and that I wanted to wait, for a little while longer, at least. His theory was that the best way for me to get over my fears was to just do it, so I could see there was nothing to be afraid of, but I wanted to wait until I felt ready. One night, though, we’d been drinking, and it just sort of … happened.” She lowered her eyes. “He was rough and fast. No foreplay at all. It hurt. A lot. I started crying afterwards and that hurt his feelings and made him angry. He stormed out. After that, I knew I wouldn’t be able to have sex with him again. I would keep remembering that first time. And by that point it was clear to me that that was really all he wanted. So we broke up.” She looked up. “That’s pretty much the sum total of my sexual experiences.” Of course, there’d been Dacy, but she didn’t remember her kidnapping well enough to know if she’d actually been molested. Maybe that was one of those things she just didn’t want to know. Rafael stared into space. His hand clenched into a fist at his side. “That anyone would dare to handle you roughly .…” “It’s all right. It’s in the past now.” “But it still hurts you.” He lightly touched the back of her hand. “This is why I wish you would let me into your mind–so I would not make mistakes like this. Had I known that your first experience had been so appalling, I would have been more careful with you. I would have gone slower. But please believe me, I would never use you so selfishly. I would never sate my own desire and then cast you aside, as he did.” “You know, you could have just asked permission first.” He stared at her blankly. She sighed. “The idea of asking permission for anything is completely foreign to you, isn’t it?” “I felt your desire and responded to it,” he said. “It didn’t occur to you that I might have reservations about sleeping with a man I’d met just yesterday?” “I am not used to women having reservations around me. They always want it.” His tone was matter-of-fact. There was nothing smug or boastful in it. “You’re telling me I’m the only woman you’ve ever met who didn’t want to jump into bed with you right away?” “Is that difficult for you to believe? You saw how your friend–how all of them– responded to me in the theatre.” “I guess so.” She sighed. “Life must be so simple for you. You never have to wonder what other people are thinking or feeling.” “On the contrary. That often makes life very complicated.” He took her hand in his and traced a circle on her palm with one finger. “Did you love him?” “Who?” “Cameron.” He spoke the name as if it tasted unpleasant. A faint smile twitched across Carrie’s lips then faded quickly. “I don’t know. At the time, I probably would have said yes, but I’m not sure now. I think I was just lonely. I wanted something that would make me feel normal and having a boyfriend is normal,

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right?” She stared into her lap. “You know, I don’t remember what I was like before the kidnapping. Not really. I have a few memories of my childhood, but I don’t feel any personal connection to them. When I think back on that time, it’s like watching someone else’s home movies. The person I am now was shaped by that incident. I guess other people can sense that darkness about me, which is why I’ve always had trouble with people … except for Elena. I lost most of my childhood friends after the kidnapping. I’d changed so much, become so morose and quiet that they just lost interest in me. But Elena stayed by my side. She’s probably the only real friend I have.” “She seems to have a knack for getting you into trouble.” Carrie smiled. “Like when she brought me to your show?” He smiled back. “Yes.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and her pulse quickened at his touch. She looked up into his eyes. They were gentle, warm, and strangely solemn as they studied her face. “Of course, I have her to thank for the pleasure of meeting you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and trailed butterfly-soft kisses across her knuckles. His voice lowered to a near-whisper. “I will find some way to lift the burdens from your heart, to take away the pain and fear you carry within you. That is a promise.” “That’s something that no one can promise me, Rafael.” He pulled her into his arms. “I will find a way.” She sighed and rested her head against his chest. She supposed it was pointless to argue, but she knew that her pain couldn’t be dealt with that easily. For a few minutes, they sat in silence. She felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, against her cheek, and it was strangely comforting. Her eyes drifted shut. She blinked them open and muffled a yawn against one hand. “You’re tired.” “I guess I am. I don’t know why, though. It’s not late. Of course, I didn’t get to sleep until almost four o’clock last night.” She smiled. “That’s partially your fault. Maybe I should make that coffee. Otherwise I might end up dozing off.” “I think you should get some sleep.” She hesitated. “Well, I do have work tomorrow. Maybe that would be a good idea.” She rubbed her eyes. He stood and lifted her into his arms, effortlessly, as if she weighed no more than a sack of feathers. Carrie laughed in surprise. “I can walk, you know.” “I know,” he said but didn’t put her down. He carried her into her bedroom and lay her gently on the bed. Then, slowly, he began to undress her, sliding his hands beneath her shirt and lifting it. She tensed. “Wait, Rafael.” “I am simply going to undress you,” he said softly. “I won’t touch you in any way you aren’t comfortable with.” “You really do have trouble with asking permission. Is saying ‘may I undress you’ really so hard?” “May I undress you?” She smiled again, in spite of herself. “You’ve already got your hands beneath my shirt, so you may as well.” He slid her shirt off, then unbuttoned her jeans and removed them. He left her panties, which she was glad for. She felt exposed enough laying there in her underwear.

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He folded all the clothes carefully, leaving them in a small pile on the floor of her closet, then pulled the covers over her, tucking them in around her sides. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open. The lids kept sinking shut. Why was she so tired? Had he done this to her, somehow? Or was it just the effect of everything that had happened to her over the past few days? “Sleep,” he urged. “I will watch over you. I’ll keep the nightmares at bay.” “Really?” He nodded. She forced her eyes open one last time, catching a glimpse of his face before she sank into a deep sleep. There were no bad dreams that night.

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Chapter Six She woke the next morning and looked around her bedroom but there was no sign of Rafael. Her heart sank. Then she spotted a small, white note folded on the table next to her bedside. She opened it. There was a single sentence within, written in an angular, elegant hand. Meet me tomorrow, same place and time. She stroked the graceful pen-lines with one fingertip. The note was the only physical evidence she had that he’d existed at all. Already, last night seemed like a strange dream. If not for the note, she almost would have been tempted to dismiss it as such. She remembered his hands on her body, the way his fingertips had molded her nipple into a hard peak, the way his kiss burned like sweet fire. Her heartbeat quickened. It had been so long since she’d allowed anyone to touch her like that. She’d been alone for so long. And now, this man appeared suddenly in her life, this dangerous, mysterious, terrifying, yet gentle man. After everything she’d been through, she’d been afraid to let herself get close to someone again. Without realizing it, she’d begun to blame herself for what had happened with Cameron, thinking that if she hadn’t made him wait so long, if she hadn’t been so frightened and inexperienced, it would have happened differently. She’d begun to fear that she was simply unfit for relationships. Yet Rafael’s touch had ignited her body in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He made her crave the very thing she had avoided for so long. She got out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower. As she stood under the hot spray, rubbing the soap into a lather, another memory flashed through her mind. She saw Elena, standing motionless as a doll, her eyes empty. Rafael had done that to her, frozen her mind, as casually as someone else might pause a tape. Carrie shuddered. She was attracted to Rafael, yes, but she would be foolish to let down her guard around him. She didn’t doubt that he could immobilize her just as easily. And he could do so much more–project his thoughts across distances, erase or modify human memories, manipulate emotions. There seemed to be no limit to his powers. He had promised not to invade her mind again, but how trustworthy was he? How did she know he wasn’t just manufacturing all these feelings in her? She knew it would be wisest, safest, to stop seeing him. She knew, just as surely, that there was no way she could do that. For better or worse, he’d gotten into her heart, and she couldn’t just walk away from him now. She shut off the water, stepped out of the shower stall and toweled off her hair. She hd to work until five today, and the whole time, she was sure, she’d be thinking of Rafael and anticipating her meeting with him that night. It was going to be a long day. **** Rafael stood outside the apartment building. He watched Carrie as she walked

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out the door and across the parking lot. She wore a thin, pink sweatshirt and jeans. At the sight of her, his cock tightened … but he felt, too, a fierce, deep longing that had nothing to do with physical desire, longing for things he’d believed he could never have– love, comfort, acceptance. As if sensing his presence, she paused and looked in his direction, her large, brown eyes sweeping over the area. Her eyes drifted out of focus as they passed over him. Rafael could not literally make himself invisible, but he could blur his image in the minds of people around him, or guide their eyes and thoughts away from his presence, so that he could pass undetected virtually anywhere. As she walked, he followed behind her at a distance, just close enough to keep her in sight. He wanted to remain close to her, to ensure that she got safely to her workplace. He thought uneasily of the things she had told him, of her kidnapper, the man with glowing green eyes. He remembered how suddenly she’d been overcome with pain and panic. She seemed convinced it was merely an organic brain disorder. Rafael was not so sure. He longed to probe her mind for some hint of her kidnapper’s identity. He knew the name, but a name told him nothing. He needed to know more, and the information might be buried within her. The mind often hid things from itself, out of self-preservation. He had been powerfully tempted last night as he watched her sleep. She would never have known. But he had made a promise to her. He sighed through his teeth. He had a feeling that promise would cause him a great deal of frustration. He turned a corner and watched as Carrie walked in through the door of a small bookshop. So, this was where she worked? It was fitting, he thought. Little shops like these often went unnoticed, but they contained hidden treasures for those patient enough to stop and look. He watched her through the window for a few minutes, then turned and made his way down the street. He would return in the evening to follow her back home and make sure she arrived safely at her apartment. As he walked, he wondered at his own reaction to her. It had been a long time since he’d been so interested in anyone. Most people were predictable, dull. Carrie piqued his curiosity. And of course, she appealed to him on a more primal level. The memory of her body burned brightly in his mind. Mentally, he traced the lines of her soft, slender frame, the small, gently rounded breasts, tipped with sensitive pink nipples that had responded so enticingly to his touch. Rafael had taken many women to his bed when he was younger. They were easy to seduce. In recent years, though, the repetitive game of seduction had lost its appeal. He had grown bored with those women and disgusted with himself for taking advantage of them. But Carrie was something altogether different. He knew that with her, sex would not be a mere distraction. He wanted it with an intensity that he hadn’t felt in countless years, wanted to claim her, body, mind, and soul, to make her his own. Deep within, he felt something else, something almost entirely unfamiliar–a tremor of fear. He was afraid she would turn away from him, reject him. More than that, he was afraid for her safety. She seemed so vulnerable, so alone … and he knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that if anyone tried to harm her, he would kill them. He narrowed his eyes. Deep within them, unseen by passers-by, a blue flame glowed.

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**** Carrie left work, her head pounding dully. She winced, rubbing her forehead with two fingers. Another headache. It seemed she’d been getting more and more of them lately. When she got home, she decided, she’d make herself some tea, take some aspirin and have a long, hot soak in the tub. It wasn’t late, but the sky, thickly overcast with gray clouds, was already growing dark. A breeze ruffled her hair, and she absently brushed a few locks from her face as she walked. Her apartment was close to the bookstore, so on nice days she walked there to save gas, and to avoid putting too much wear and tear on her car, an ancient car she’d bought used … but now, she wished that she’d just driven. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she quickened her pace. She felt the first drops of rain on her face, like tiny, cold kisses. Yes, a car would be nice right now. She heard deep, raucous male laughter behind her and looked over her shoulder to see a group of three men walking some distance behind her. For a moment, she tensed. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her, though. They were laughing, leaning against each other, probably drunk, judging from the wildness of their laughter and the flush in their cheeks. She stared straight ahead and kept walking. “Hey!” one of them called. She tensed again but didn’t slow or quicken her pace. He probably wasn’t even talking to her. “Hey, baby!” She sucked her breath in through her teeth and looked around. The street was mostly deserted, but still, they were out in the open, in broad daylight–sort of, she thought, with a glance at the cloudy sky. Surely, they wouldn’t try anything now? She heard footsteps behind her. They were gaining on her. She stopped and turned. “What do you want?” “Hey, no need to look so scared, we’re just being friendly,” said one of them, a stout, broad-shouldered man with curly, dark hair. He was grinning, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes. “Looks like it’s gonna rain. You want us to give you a ride?” The others snickered. “No thank you,” she said, keeping her tone friendly but reserved. “I’m fine. I don’t have far to walk.” “Come on. Relax, we don’t bite. Much.” More laughter. She backed away. “Where are you going?” His eyes widened with mock concern. “This is a bad area. You shouldn’t walk alone.” “Yeah, you never know what kind of weird people you might run into.” She opened her purse and reached for her keys, heart pounding. She curled her fingers around the keys so the tips stuck out between her knuckles. If she could hit them hard enough with the keys, it might slow them down long enough for her to get away. “Stay away from me, or I’ll scream.” “Hey, now, don’t be so cold.” He grabbed her arm. “Let go.” His fingers tightened. “What you got in your purse, there?” There was a blur of motion in Carrie’s peripheral vision and an instant later, a

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huge, dark form stood between her and the three men. The curly-haired man blinked in confusion then scowled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He fell silent, eyes wide. Then he screamed and dropped to his knees, gripping his head. His fingers dug into his scalp. The others backed away, eyes wide. Then they turned and ran. The curly-haired man gasped. “Shit! What the fuck!” His voice was shrill with fear. He gasped again and collapsed to the sidewalk, still clutching his head. “Make it stop! Please, just make it stop!” Rafael stood over him, eyes narrowed. “I think you should apologize,” he said, “for bothering this young lady.” Carrie stared at Rafael, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” the man shrieked. He looked up, tears streaking his face, his eyes filled with stark terror. “I’m sorry! Just make it stop!” Carrie clutched Rafael’s arm. “That’s enough, Rafael.” He looked at her, and his eyes were cold and flat. A chill ran down her spine. “Please,” she said softly. Rafael’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked down at the man, who lay moaning on the sidewalk, still clutching his head. “Get up,” snapped Rafael. The man lurched to his feet, gasping, his face wet with tears. “Now go, and pray that you never see my face again.” The man bolted and vanished around a corner. It had begun to rain. Rafael stood, his face expressionless, utterly cool and unruffled. He offered Carrie his arm. Dazed, she linked arms with him and they began to walk. “I don’t know why you waste your pity on that scum,” he said. “He didn’t hurt me,” she said. “He was just being obnoxious.” “You are more naïve than I thought if you don’t believe they meant harm. They were in a dangerous frame of mind. When weak men drink and band together into packs, they become stupid and reckless … and predatory. They victimize others to feel stronger.” He quickened his pace, his jaw tightly clenched. “I was too soft on them. They deserved to be taught a lesson. The dark-haired one in particular. The thoughts in his mind were repulsive. That anyone would dare think such things about you .…” “You scared the shit out of them. I doubt they’ll be bothering women again anytime soon.” She walked beside him in silence for a moment. “Thank you,” she said quietly. He nodded once. “How did you know I was in trouble? I don’t believe that you just happened to be nearby.” “I’ve been watching you,” he said. Her eyes widened. “All day?” “Since you left work,” he said. “I followed you. A good thing I did, too.” Carrie flushed. Under the circumstances, she could hardly get angry at him for that. She supposed she should be uneasy about the fact that he’d been following her around without her awareness -- did that make him a stalker? -- but somehow, it didn’t make her uneasy. It made her feel safe, crazy as that was. “You’re trembling,” he said. She blinked in surprise and looked down at her hands. Sure enough, they were shaking noticeably. She curled them into fists and hid them in her pockets. “I’ll be all

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right in a minute.” He stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders, and looked down into her face. “You’re pale,” he said. “And I feel pain in you. What’s wrong?” She shrugged. “I’ve had a headache since I left work, that’s all. I just need to lay down and rest for awhile. Really.” She managed a slight smile. He lifted her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. She placed her hands on his broad chest and laughed, startled. “I told you, I’m fine. I can walk.” “You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he said, and strode forward with Carrie cradled in his arms. She sighed, relenting, and rested her head against his shoulder. “Aren’t people going to think it’s weird? You carrying me down the street like this?” “I am not concerned about what others think. Besides, they will only see what I wish them to. I can shift attention away from myself if necessary.” “Seems like there’s nothing you can’t do,” she murmured. She had discovered, to her surprise, that she enjoyed being carried. She rested her cheek against his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart. It occurred to her that just a few minutes ago she had seen him inflict agonizing pain on a man without even touching him. That should bother her, shouldn’t it? “What are you thinking about?” Rafael asked. On the surface, his tone was casual, but beneath it there was an iron command. A smile touched her lips. He wasn’t accustomed to asking such things, and she knew it frustrated him. He’d just have to get used to it. “Tell me,” he said. Then added, with a touch of impatience, “Please.” She met his eyes. “I was just thinking about what you did to that man back there.” Rafael’s eyes instantly turned cold again. Points of blue fire flashed in the depths of his pupils. “It was less than he deserved.” “I don’t want you to hurt people for my sake.” “Would you have had me stand by and do nothing?” “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad you were there. I just … I don’t know.” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t like seeing anyone in pain, that’s all. There’s too much pain in the world.” His eyes softened. “Don’t worry about it right now. Just rest. I will take you home.” She nodded and closed her eyes, her head pillowed against his chest. It was still raining lightly, and she shivered. “We’re almost to the car,” he said. Her eyes opened. “We’re driving?” “Of course. We can’t walk in this weather.” She remembered all the countless warnings and cautions she’d heard about getting into cars with strange men. But then, Rafael was hardly a stranger by this point, and she was in no shape to argue. Her head still throbbed and her ordeal with the men had left her shaken–though she was loathe to admit it. She just wanted to be somewhere safe where she could relax. But was she ever safe with Rafael?

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Chapter Seven The car was a gray import, not the sort of thing she would have imagined him driving. But then, if he was only staying in town temporarily, it was probably a rental. He opened the door and helped her into the passenger side seat. She fastened her seatbelt and watched him from the corner of her eye as he got into the car and started the ignition. They drove in silence for a few minutes. “How is your head?” he asked. “Still pretty bad.” The pain suddenly dimmed. “How about now?” he asked. Her eyes widened. “Did you do that? That’s incredible.” She touched the center of her forehead. “It’s completely gone. You’re better than any pain medication I’ve ever taken.” He chuckled. “There are practical advantages to my powers.” Minutes later, they pulled up in front of her apartment building. He got out of the car and opened the door for her. As soon as she’d unbuckled her seatbelt, he lifted her out of her seat. She sighed in exasperation but his concern warmed her, all the same. He cradled her so carefully in his arms as he walked to the main door of the building. Carrie fumbled through her purse for her keys and unlocked the door. Shortly after, they entered her bedroom. He lowered her to her bed, took off her shoes and socks, and pulled the covers over her. “I’ll bring you some tea,” he said. “You don’t have to do all th .... ” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I do,” he said. “You will allow me to take care of you.” “There you go again, giving orders,” she said, but she was smiling. It was hard to be irritated with him when he was fussing over her like this. She listened as he moved about in the kitchen. Minutes later, he entered the room carrying a mug of hot tea. He handed it to her, and she breathed in the fragrant steam. Lemon tea, her favorite. “Thanks.” Carrie sat up and took a sip. He’d stirred in a spoonful of honey, just the way she liked it. “Somehow, I keep being surprised that you know all my favorites,” she said. “It’s hard to get used to the idea that someone’s had a chance to look around inside my head. I know you haven’t done it since that first night, but I wonder, just how much did you learn about me?” He pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. His silver-blue eyes reflected the warm glow of the lamp. “Quite a bit. Of course, there is still much I do not know. Minds are beehives filled with countless hidden compartments, and yours is more complicated than most.” “You’re flattering me. I’m not really that complicated.” “If you believe that, you don’t see yourself very clearly.” She watched steam rise from her tea. “So what else did you learn about me?” She tried to make the question sound casual. She felt his gaze on her. “The idea bothers you,” he said, “that another person was inside your mind.” “You have to understand, Rafael, the mind is a person’s most intimate sanctuary. It’s the one place no one can touch you, the one place you can be safe from the world.

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For a long time, it was my only sanctuary. When I was younger, sometimes, and I was feeling lonely or depressed, I would retreat into my imagination. It kept me sane.” “Were you unhappy as a child?” She shrugged. “Not all the time, of course. But I wasn’t very happy at school. I was the child of a single mother, so I got teased about that, and the fact that I wore secondhand clothes. Nothing too major, just the sort of teasing that most kids go through at some point, but at the time it really got to me. And then after the kidnapping, it was like no one even wanted to get close enough to tease me. Like I’d become infected or something.” She looked up and forced a tiny smile. “You never answered my question. How do you do that?” “Do what?” “Dodge all my questions about you and get me talking about myself instead.” “Most people don’t notice. They just tell me what I want to hear.” “Like you keep saying, I’m not most people.” “True enough. Now, then.” He stroked the back of her hand lightly with one finger and a pleasant tingle raced up her arm. “You asked what I saw in your mind. I saw that you have a great deal of kindness in your heart, a great capacity for love but, for whatever reason, you choose to keep your distance from most people. Even with your friend you are not completely open. You care for her, but you know that she can never really understand what you’ve been through.” He raised his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. “You long to open yourself completely to someone, to find someone who can understand you, but you do not share your heart lightly, fearing the pain that it could bring.” His thumb touched the corner of her mouth, then skimmed lightly across her lower lip, unleashing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “I also felt a deep suffering in you, a darkness, though I didn’t know the cause until you told me.” He ran his finger lightly down her throat, lingering over her pulse. “Do you still keep in touch with your mother?” “She died a few years ago.” “How?” he asked quietly. “Lung cancer. She smoked. She quit for awhile, when I was little, and after I was kidnapped she picked up the habit again. I think it was the stress … having to deal with the wreck I’d become and all the expensive therapy I needed after that.” “Stop,” said Rafael. “Stop what?” “Stop looking for ways to make it your fault,” he said. “You are not to blame for your mother’s death.” She sighed. “I know. I’ve been over all this with therapists. But a part of me still feels like I am, like she would have been better off if I’d never even been born. Maybe if I hadn’t, she would still be alive.” “That is utterly foolish.” Warm fingers rubbed the back of her neck in slow, gentle circles. “Her choices were her own. You can’t take responsibility for them.” A smile flickered across her lips. “You know, you can reduce me to quivering jelly with a touch,” she murmured. “That’s not really fair. It makes it damn near impossible to form a coherent thought around you.” He took the tea mug from her hands, set it on the bedside table, and began to rub her shoulders. “There is no need to think right now. Simply rest.”

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Carrie closed her eyes. His fingers kneaded her flesh, working deep into the soreness and tension within her muscles and rubbing it out. A flush crept into her cheeks as she felt her body respond to his touch. Her hard nipples were visible, outlined by her thin, pink sweater, and she could feel an urgent ache beginning to throb between her thighs. Knowing that he could feel her desire, her need for him, just made it worse. She felt his breath on her ear. “I want to possess your body.” A line like that would have sounded cheesy and over-the-top coming from any other man’s mouth, but Rafael made it work. His deep, velvet voice was like a physical caress, sending chills dancing down her spine. Her heart pounded. “You don’t mean ‘possess’ in the literal sense, do you?” she half-joked, smiling weakly. “I mean, I know you could probably do that, if you wanted.” She paused. “Could you?” “Take over your mind and body, you mean? Yes, I could. But you do not need to fear that.” His hands continued their skilled massage. Strong thumbs pressed into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulders and rubbed in slow circles. “What I mean is, I want to touch and kiss every inch of your smooth, soft flesh. I want to take you, to feel your body clenching tightly around me. I want to claim you as I did in our dream.” “Your dream,” she said. “It was yours, too. I controlled only my own actions, not your responses to me. The desire you felt was your own, not something I imposed. I give you my word that I would never try to manipulate you in that way.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “But how do I know if I can trust your word?” “That is a decision you must make. You must look into your heart and decide whether or not to trust me.” “I’m not sure I can even believe my own heart. I want to trust you … but I’m afraid.” “Afraid of being betrayed again?” She nodded. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her into a firm embrace. “You should never have had to endure the things you did,” he said. He touched her chin, lifting her face, and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroked and caressed it. He lowered her to the bed. Blue fire glimmered in the depths of his silver-blue eyes. He slid his fingers into her hair, tilted her head back, exposing her neck, and trailed kisses from her jaw down to the small hollow at the base of her throat, lingering over her racing pulse. “Rafael,” she whispered and gasped as his fingers found her nipple through her sweater. “Only tell me to stop,” he said softly, “and I will.” She moaned. His thumb stroked her taut nipple. When he slid her sweater off, she didn’t protest. His gaze moved over her, lingering on her breasts. His fingers slipped beneath her cotton bra and squeezed. His mouth found hers again in a slow, lingering kiss. He paid special attention to her lower lip, suckling it gently, and when he pulled back, her lips felt full and swollen with his kisses. He undid the clasps of her bra and slid it off. His head bent, long, black hair brushing her skin as his mouth closed around one nipple. The heat and wetness of his tongue, the gentle tug of his lips, made her gasp. He sucked her nipple as if it were a piece of candy, then lifted his head and ran his tongue over his lips. His eyes burned with need beneath long, soot-black lashes. He lowered his

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head to her other nipple and opened his mouth. His tongue circled the little pink pebble, then stroked it. He caught it between his teeth and tugged. Then, slowly, he trailed kisses down her stomach as his quick fingers undid the buttons of her jeans. It was so different with Rafael. With Cameron, it had been rough and fast. He had satisfied his own pleasure and left her sore and confused. Rafael took the time to taste every inch of her, as if she were a delicacy to be savored. Her breasts felt full and heavy, the nipples still hard and tight. She bit her lower lip, fingers clutching the sheets as he slid her jeans down. Her panties were wet and clung to her, so the cleft of her pussy was visible through the thin cotton. Rafael traced that cleft with a finger. His hard, calloused palm pressed against her aching mound. Then, maddeningly, he abandoned her pussy and trailed kisses up her right thigh, to the back of her knee. Carrie let out a small, high-pitched moan, almost a whine. “Rafael, please!” “Shhh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “Patience. There’s no reason to hurry through this, is there? I want every detail of this experience to be imprinted in your memory, for you to recall and savor later.” His tongue darted out, hot and quick, to caress her ear. He returned to the back of her knee and kissed the soft, sensitive flesh. His fingers curled around her calf and slid down to her ankle. Carrie’s eyes darted to the bulge straining against his pants. Obviously he wanted this as much as she did, yet he was utterly in control of himself, infuriatingly cool and calm. She wanted to hear him gasp and moan. She reached out. Her fingertips brushed his hard cock, and she heard his quick intake of breath. The feel of him throbbing beneath her fingers was both thrilling and a little frightening, like holding a loaded gun. He was so big and hot. His hand captured her wrists and pinned them together behind her head. The look in his eyes was so intense, so hot, that for a moment she was afraid she had somehow made him angry. But his voice, when he spoke, was gentle and steady. “If you touch me now, Carrie, I will lose all control. I will take you, but I want to be sure that your body is ready for me.” His hand tightened around her wrist, and a tiny shiver ran through her. There was strength in his grip, in his eyes, tremendous strength–and right now, all that strength was channeled into controlling his own desire for her. “I think I’m ready,” she said. “No,” he said. “Not quite yet.” Carefully, he slid her panties down, exposing the triangle of tight, dark curls between her thighs. Warm fingers delved into those curls and separated her plump lips, exposing wet, pink folds. Her clitoris poked out from beneath its hood. Her heart pounded as the firm, calloused pad of his finger grazed her protruding clit. The pleasure was so sharp and intense it was almost painful. His finger moved slowly around her clit, then moved lower and slid slowly into her pussy, testing her wetness. A moment later, another finger joined it. She felt movement inside her as he stroked her slick, sensitive walls, then stretched her gently. His fingers slid free, glistening with her juice. He licked them, his eyes focused on hers. A wave of dizzying, hot desire swept over Carrie, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed. She heard the rustle of clothing as he undressed, then opened her eyes to see him on all fours, naked, above her. Somehow, he looked even bigger without his clothes. His chest and shoulders seemed even broader, the muscles like hills and valleys. Her gaze traveled down over his taut stomach to his hard cock, dark and enormous, protruding from a patch of downy, black curls. She could see the veins running over and

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through the organ’s surface, could see a single bead of liquid glistening at the tip. His eyes met hers, holding her gaze for a long moment, his eyes silver heat and blue fire. Then he lowered himself onto her and pushed forward. She felt him enter her, felt the walls of her pussy stretch to accommodate the length and girth of him. He groaned, a low, animal sound. There was a small flare of pain, but it was gone quickly, drowned in pleasure as he began to move slowly within her. His huge hands gripped her shoulders as he pulled back and thrust into her again, deeper, submerging himself to the balls in her body. Instinctively, she moved beneath him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, needing more of him inside her. Carrie heard herself moaning but she felt strangely disconnected from the sound, as if she were listening to a recording of herself. She had no control over her voice. She was lost completely in the rhythm of his hard cock pumping in and out of her wetness. Each thrust brought the head of his cock firmly against the most sensitive spot inside her, bringing another jolt of pleasure. She looked up, her eyes drinking in the sight of him, his muscled body glistening with a sheen of sweat, his eyes unfocused with pleasure, his damp hair hanging down around his face, making him look wild, savage. He grunted softly as he thrust into her again, so hard and deep, and she felt the walls of her pussy clench tighter around him. A wave of sweet vertigo washed over her. She cried out and clutched Rafael’s shoulders as the pleasure rose to a sharp peak, then gently faded to a warm, pleasant ache between her thighs. For a moment, she seemed to be floating. She opened her eyes, panting and flushed. Tendrils of hair clung to her sweat-damp forehead, and Rafael was still on top of her, inside her. He was breathing as hard as she was. Slowly, he pulled out of her body and stretched out beside her. He smoothed her hair back from her brow. “There,” he said softly, “now, wasn’t that worth the wait?” She laughed breathlessly. “Yes. Definitely.” He pulled her closer. His arms encircled her, bringing her firmly against the hard wall of his chest. She sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so safe, so content. He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. “Look at me,” he said. She opened her eyes. “Hmm?” “I just want to look into your eyes,” he said. His voice, deep and soft, sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. His silver eyes stared deep into hers, making her feel–as she often did around him–as if her soul were laid bare, as if he had taken away all her protective shields, all the walls she hid behind. A drowsy, languid feeling stole over her. “I think you’re trying to hypnotize me.” He stroked her cheek with one finger. “I wouldn’t need to look into your eyes to do that.” She trailed her fingertips over his mouth. “You’re smiling,” she said. “Am I?” She nodded. “You should smile more often. You’re so serious most of the time.” They lay together, Carrie’s head resting against his shoulder. She stroked his broad chest with one hand, then stopped, her hand directly over his heart. She felt it beating against her palm. Her hand trailed lower, over his firm, flat stomach–the muscles tightened slightly at her touch, a reflex–then lower still, to one muscled thigh. She

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rubbed it, watched his cock stir, and licked her lips. “Insatiable, aren’t you?” He rolled on top of her and pinned her to the bed, a wicked glint in his eyes. His knee pushed her thighs apart to grind against her bare pussy. Carrie moaned and pushed back against his knee. She slid her fingers into his dark hair, pulled him down, and pressed her lips to his. His knee continued to rub against her, a delicious friction, stimulating her wet, aroused flesh. He gripped her wrists, pinning them to the bed. Her gaze darted to his cock and saw that it was already hard again. A thought flashed through her mind, and she tensed. “Rafael .…” He looked up, meeting her eyes, and waited. She swallowed. “I’m not … on anything.” She lowered her eyes. How could she have been so stupid as to forget that? She’d gotten caught up in a wave of hormones, done the very thing she’d sworn she would never do. He touched her cheek. “You don’t need to worry about that.” “You don’t think me getting pregnant is something to worry about?” “Carrie,” he said, “I have had many lovers, and we weren’t always careful, but none of them ever bore a child of mine.” “How do you know? Are you sure?” “I am sure.” “What are you saying?” “Whatever I am, I am not compatible with humans … at least, not under normal circumstances. I have known from an early age that I am not human, myself.” She stared at him, bewildered. “What do you mean, you aren’t human? That’s crazy. Anyone can see that you are.” “Appearances are only appearances. What I look like and what I am are two different matters.” “But you came from human parents, didn’t you?” “My mother was human … if she was, indeed, my biological mother. It has crossed my mind that perhaps my true parents–whatever they were–simply gave me to her and planted the belief that I was her own child.” “Why would they do such a thing?” “You have heard of changelings, yes?” “Well, yes. There’s a legend that fairies would sometimes steal a human baby and replace it with one of their own, and the child was called a changeling. But it’s just that, a legend. Isn’t it?” “Most legends sprout from a seed of truth.” A cold tingle ran down her spine. It sounded absurd … and yet, she had no rational explanation for Rafael’s powers. “You think that’s what you are? A fairy?” “It wasn’t just fairies. In the legends, all types of supernatural beings did this. I can’t say what I am. All I know for sure is that the woman who raised me did not share my powers, and she did not resemble me. She was fair-haired and tiny, while I am tall and dark-haired … though she loved me as if I were her own flesh and blood.” “Still … just because you have unusual powers, that doesn’t mean you aren’t human.” “It is not just my powers that set me apart. I eat and sleep, but I don’t need to do

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either. I have gone for months with neither food nor slumber. I could probably go longer if I wished. You see, as I grew up, I realized I could draw my life-energy from the people around me.” “What do you mean?” whispered Carrie. Her stomach was a tight, hard knot. “Are you saying you’re some kind of vampire?” “You could look at it that way.” “But that isn’t right! Taking other people’s energy … it’s like stealing. Isn’t there any other way for you to live? Doesn’t it hurt the people you take from?” “Does it hurt the sun when plants use its energy?” Carrie bit her lower lip. “You’re saying that it doesn’t have any impact on those people?” He nodded. “People emit psychic energy all the time, though they tend to radiate larger amounts during times of strong emotion or excitement. Sexual energy is particularly potent, though I don’t actually need to have sex with someone to take in their energy. Simply being around someone who’s aroused is enough. My shows have been an excellent fuel-source. I have an entire audience to draw from. Not only does psychic energy sustain me, but it seems to prolong life, as well. Since I reached physical maturity, I have aged hardly at all.” He raised his hand and stared at it. “Years, decades go by. I watch the people around me age, wither and perish, yet I remain unchanged. I sometimes wonder if I will ever die. I have never been ill, and my injuries heal more rapidly than a normal man’s. There’ve been days when I’ve cursed my own immortality.” He looked at her expression and sighed. “Now you are frightened of me.” “No,” she said, though her heart was pounding. “I’m just … confused. What are you?” “Something else. Something that should not exist in this world,” he said. “Perhaps I am the last of my kind. Or the only one of my kind. All my life I have searched for answers, but I have found nothing.” Carrie took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. Not human. Rafael was not human. She repeated the words to herself, trying to get used to them. She wondered what it must have been like for him, growing up with these strange abilities and no one to teach him what they meant or how to use them. How confused he must have been, how frightened. Her chest tightened, and she placed a hand over the aching pain in her heart. She didn’t realize she was crying until he brushed a tear away with his thumb. “Do not waste these tears on me,” he said softly. “If you knew some of the things I’ve done with my abilities, you would know that the pain of loneliness is too light a punishment for me.” He paused. “It took me a long time to learn restraint and control. I have manipulated so many people with my powers, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. At the time I felt justified, but now I wonder.” He paused. “When I was a boy, I came upon some other children in a forest clearing. They were standing in a circle, laughing. They were kicking at something, poking it with sticks, and I heard something cry out in pain, felt the terror of a small creature. It was a cat, a stray. They were tormenting it for their amusement. The anger and revulsion I felt toward them, and toward all humans, was overpowering. I lashed out with my power and I made them all feel the pain and fear they were inflicting on that animal.” His eyes were unfocused, distant. “Some part of me has always looked upon humans with contempt, seen them as brutish monsters who abuse their power over animals and the earth. But am

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I any different?” His hand curled into a tight fist. “Perhaps I am worse than any of them. Perhaps I am the monster.” Carrie lay a hand over his. “You aren’t a monster,” she said softly. He looked at her, his eyes so cold and intense that she recoiled. “You know very little about me,” he said. For a moment, neither one of them spoke. Carrie’s heart ached. She felt as if a chasm had suddenly opened up between them. Turning away, she gathered up the sheets, holding them against her chest. She felt a gentle touch on the back of her neck. “I am not angry with you, Carrie.” His voice sounded heavy, weary. “Never with you.” She turned to him, clutching the sheets tightly, like a shield. “You’re not a monster,” she said again, her voice soft, but firm. “Regardless of what you think about yourself.” A smile softened his mouth, but there was a shadow in his eyes. “You thought differently when you first met me.” “I didn’t know you then.” “And now? What more do you know about me, now?” “I know you’re capable of kindness.” “Perhaps. But I am very selective in what I share of myself. Do you really know me?” He chuckled. There was pain in the sound. “This must be terribly confusing to you. First I ask you to put your trust in me, then I turn around and tell you that I’m a dangerous monster and that I’ve only been showing you what you want to see.” “I don’t believe you’re a monster. Dangerous, yes. But not a monster.” “You might feel differently someday. But I can promise you one thing, Carrie. I will never harm you, nor let any harm come to you.” He met her eyes. “Do you believe me?” he whispered hoarsely. There was a desperation in his voice that made her heart hurt. “I believe you,” she said softly. She stroked his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble under her fingertips. That roughness made him seem somehow more human, more real–not the perfect, godlike creature she had seen on the stage, but a man, a man who needed to be loved. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the touch of her fingers. Then he stood. “Come,” he said, taking her hand. “You need a shower, and so do I.” She nodded. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?” He raised an eyebrow. “The shower stall is large enough for both of us, isn’t it?” She smiled. “It is. I guess there’s no reason to be modest now.” She stood, and he pulled her against his hard body. Her heartbeat quickened at the feel of him, iron muscles sheathed in warm, velvet skin. With a smile, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. “My legs work,” she said, but the protest was hardly more than a reflex. Being in his arms felt so good. He smiled, kissed the corner of her mouth, and set her down. Reaching into the stall, he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature before stepping in. They stood together under the hot spray. Carrie closed her eyes, leaning against him as he washed her, rubbing soapy lather over every inch of her body, paying special attention to her breasts and the moist furrow between her legs. She moaned as his long fingers worked the lather into her folds–pausing to stroke and toy with her aroused clit– then separated them to let the water wash her clean. Taking his example, she rubbed the

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bar of soap vigorously between her hands, then curled her soap-slippery fingers around his cock and stroked it. She smiled at the deep moan that rose up from his throat. There was a hint of surprise in the sound that sent a thrill of delight through her. “You’re growing bolder,” he murmured. His cock was already rising, his eyes liquid silver heat as they roved over her naked body. Carrie explored the length of his cock with her fingertips, cupped his balls in her palm. They were so large, so heavy. Rafael moaned again, long and deep. He was so powerful, so seemingly unshakable, yet she could affect him with just a touch. It was a heady feeling. She rubbed his balls lightly and watched as his stiff cock grew even bigger. He gripped her shoulders, turned her and pushed her against the stall door, so her breasts were flattened against the glass. His hand pinned her wrists together behind her back. “Rafael!” “Shhh.” Her kissed her jaw, very softly. “I won’t hurt you.” A smile grew from one corner of his mouth. “I just like the way you look in that position.” His hand slipped down to the small of her back, then lightly squeezed her ass. Strong, thick fingers pushed into the cleft between her cheeks and slid down until they found the opening to her pussy. His other hand released her wrists, his arm wrapping around her waist, holding her steady as one finger eased its way into her wetness. She panted, leaning back against him, the hot water beating against her shoulders and face as his finger found her most sensitive spot–that little bundle of nerves buried deep in the flesh of her pussy–and rubbed deliciously back and forth across it. She felt the strength run out of her, and she went limp against him. His arm was an iron band around her middle, holding her arms pinned tightly against her sides as he continued to mercilessly plunder that spot, stimulating it until the pleasure was almost unbearable. Then, when she was within an inch of climax, he withdrew his finger, turned her around and pushed her back against the wall of the shower stall. His knees nudged her thighs apart. She felt the blunt, smooth head of his cock press against the opening of her pussy, then slide into her, stretching her open and filling her. She felt herself sliding down the wall and gripped handfuls of his hair to steady herself. If it hurt him, he gave no indication. His eyes were utterly focused on hers, pinning her with an animal intensity as he pounded into her. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her orgasm was even more intense than the last one. When the last wave of pleasure faded, she felt as if she were in danger of melting to liquid. She clung to him for support as his last few thrusts brought him to climax. His hands tightened on her shoulders as his hot seed filled her. Then he pulled back, and they stood together, letting the water wash away the sweat of their lovemaking. At last, he turned the water off, stepped out of the shower and took a folded towel from the shelf on the wall. He began to dry her, carefully, as if she were a piece of porcelain. The towel brushed lightly over her tender, erect nipples, and she shivered. Lightly, she touched the flesh between her thighs. It was slightly sore. Considering that she’d just had two bouts of intense lovemaking after a three-year dry spell, that probably wasn’t surprising, but it was a good soreness, like the pleasurable ache of working out a muscle that had been neglected too long. She looked up at Rafael and smiled. “That was ….” She trailed off, unable to find words, and laughed breathlessly. “I didn’t expect

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that.” He smiled as he toweled off her hair. “One day, I will show you all the things I can do for you with my powers,” he said. “What sort of things?” “Anything you can imagine,” he said. “I can give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve dreamt of, and I am not only speaking of sexual pleasure. I can make you believe you’re flying. I can show you what it’s like to race across the plains as a wild horse, or sail through the sea as a dolphin.” “But how could you know what that’s like?” she asked. “I can communicate mentally with animals as well as people. One of my favorite pastimes has always been to go into the wilderness, link my mind to whatever wild beasts were nearby, and experience life through their senses. Tame animals aren’t nearly as fun, of course. But to hunt as a wolf, to feel the earth beneath my paws, my nose filled with the forest’s rich tapestry of smells, is quite an experience.” “And you could share those experiences with me?” asked Carrie. Rafael nodded. He picked up a brush from the counter and began to brush her hair in gentle, careful strokes, working the tangles out. “I would have to link with you, though. I know you fear the consequences of letting me into your mind.” “I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet,” she said. “It’s just so intimate.” He raised an eyebrow. “After what we just did, you are not ready for intimacy?” “The mind is more private than the body.” “I know,” he said, more gently. “I don’t mean to make light of your fears. I will wait until you are ready.” “You’ll wait?” “As long as necessary. I will win your trust.” He kissed her temple. Once they’d dried off, they returned to bed and lay down. Rafael lay close to her, his front pressed to her back, his arm draped around her waist. “I’m exhausted,” Carrie murmured. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. “Sleep, then,” said Rafael. “You’ll stay with me? You won’t leave like last time?” “No. I will be here when you awaken. I promise.” Holding that thought like a talisman, she drifted off.

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Chapter Eight A hazy, dark shape loomed over her, green eyes glowing. A low, hoarse voice whispered ugly words. A hand reached out, fingers curled like claws. A cruel mouth grinned, showing a gleaming, white row of teeth. “No!” Carrie woke with a gasp, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. Sweat drenched the sheets. A hand smoothed her hair. “Only a dream,” Rafael whispered into her ear. “Rest. I will keep the nightmares away.” Carrie rested her cheek against Rafael’s broad, firm chest, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. “It was him,” she whispered. “I can’t escape him. No matter what I do. He’s always there.” “He cannot harm you. Not when I am here. Sleep.” Carrie’s eyelids sank shut. Her racing heartbeat slowed as Rafael stroked her hair. She drifted off, into a warm, peaceful darkness, free of dreams. **** Carrie woke to the touch of sunlight on her face. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Rafael sat in a chair by the window. He stared through a gap in the curtains, at the sky. He was still shirtless and barefoot, though he’d put on a pair of jeans. She realized she’d never seen him in bright sunlight. He was radiant … literally. When the sun hit his marble-white skin, the effect was similar to the blinding brilliance of light on new-fallen snow. His black hair spilled like a waterfall of silk over his broad, powerful shoulders and down his sleek back. “Rafael?” He turned to her. His pale blue eyes appeared almost luminous, as if they were stained glass and the sun were shining through them, but his expression was distant, troubled. “Good morning. How did you sleep?” “Fine, thanks.” She sat up. The covers slipped away and cold air washed over her naked skin. She grabbed her sweater from the floor and slid into it. It was tuniclength, so it covered all the essentials … though after last night, she supposed, it was silly to even think about modesty. “What about you?” “I didn’t sleep.” He turned back to the window. “What were you doing all night, then?” “Watching over you.” Heat crept into her cheeks. He looked so damned appealing sitting there in nothing but a pair of tight jeans. She wanted to walk up to him, run her hands over those powerful shoulders and hard chest, feel his small, dark nipples tighten beneath her fingertips. She wanted to lay a hand over his cock and feel it rise and stiffen beneath her palm. She could imagine its heat and hardness, the sight of it straining against the tight denim. She remembered the sensation of that huge cock inside her, pushing so deeply into her body that it seemed their bodies would melt together. Rafael had broken down so many of her barriers, touched places inside her that no one else had come close to

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touching, both literally and figuratively. Carrie’s blush grew hotter. Last night she’d had the most amazing sex of her life–though, really, she had only one other experience to compare it to–and now, she was already fantasizing about him again. Ever since Rafael walked into her life, it seemed, she’d done nothing but think about sex. For the moment, though, she needed caffeine more than she needed another roll in the sheets. She climbed out of bed. “I’m going to make some coffee.” He nodded. His expression was still distant. Something was bothering him, but what? Once she had her coffee, maybe, they could talk about it. She walked into the kitchen, filled the coffee maker with water and spooned the dark, fragrant grounds into the filter. She stood, listening to the soft gurgle as the pot filled. An image flashed through her mind. For an instant, she saw a dark shape with pale green eyes, and she gasped. Carrie swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She placed a hand over her thumping heart. Rafael was suddenly behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” She swallowed and filled a coffee cup. Her hand trembled and some coffee splashed onto the counter. She mopped it up with a paper towel. “I just remembered a dream I had last night. That’s all.” “It was him again. Dacy. Wasn’t it?” She nodded. “Then your nightmares have not gone away, after all.” “No,” she said softly. “I suppose they haven’t.” She stared at the floor. A lump burned in her throat, and she tried to swallow it. “Sometimes, I think they’re never going to go away.” He led her into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the coffee cup between her hands. Rafael sat beside her. His fingers massaged the back of her neck. She sipped the coffee and the heat soothed her. “Carrie … if you would just let me examine those memories, perhaps I could find a way to help.” “No, Rafael.” She shook her head. “Please, understand. I can’t. If I let you into that part of me …. I just can’t.” “What are you afraid of?” he asked gently. She looked away. Slowly, she set the coffee cup on the bedside table. “You think I’m beautiful now. But if you saw this … if you had any idea … my insides are a mess, Rafael. Therapy helped me get my shit back together just enough that I can pretend to be normal, but I’ll never be normal. Inside, I’m ugly and scarred. I’m … dirty.” She looked at him, trying to pour all her desperation into her eyes, trying to make him understand. “I just don’t want you to see all that.” “You think that I won’t want you anymore? Is that it?” “That’s part of it,” she said. “I know you’ll say that this won’t change how you feel about me, but you can’t say that for sure until you’ve seen it, until you know.” “Carrie, for God’s sake.” He gripped her shoulders and kissed her, hard. He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. “Hear this and believe me,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I have lived longer than you would ever guess and seen horrors that most people would never be able to imagine. I have looked into the minds of men and seen pettiness and cruelty that would turn my stomach if I hadn’t already become numb to it. There is nothing in your mind that could push me away from you. Nothing.”

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He held her gaze with his, and she could feel the strength of his will, compelling her to believe. She couldn’t look away. “Whatever scars your soul bears, they are a part of you, and they could never make me care for you any less. Let me into your mind, Carrie. Let me put your fears to rest. You’ve been bearing this burden alone for so long. Share it with me.” “Rafael,” she whispered. “If there is a chance, even a small chance, that I can heal you, I wish to try.” Carrie took a slow, deep breath. What if he could heal her? She’d been told over and over by doctors that her sickness couldn’t be cured, only controlled, but Rafael had powers that most people couldn’t even imagine. Who knew what he was capable of? What if he could find a way to stop the voices, the dreams, for good? The idea of living without that constant fear was intoxicating. She had to take the chance. If he saw the darkness in her mind and was repulsed, so be it. If he was going to be a part of her life, she’d have to show him that part of her eventually. Better now than later. “You said you would have to put me into a trance first?” she asked quietly. “It will make it easier.” Rafael took her hands in his. “Look into my eyes.” She obeyed. “Now, just relax. It will happen very quickly and naturally if you let it. Keep focusing on my eyes.” His voice washed over her, deep and soothing. It seemed to surround her, lifting her up, making her feel light, almost weightless, as if she could drift away like a balloon. Her mind felt curiously empty, as if the weight of all her fears, her inhibitions, even her memories, had lifted away, leaving her perfectly open. She was aware of nothing except Rafael’s eyes. She watched the pretty blue flame dancing within them, entranced. She felt as if she could watch that flame forever. **** Rafael held Carrie’s hands, his thumbs gently stroking her palms as he studied her face. Her lips were parted, relaxed. Her eyes stared straight ahead, empty and unfocused. A quick examination of her mind confirmed that she was in a deep trance. “Now, listen to me, Carrie,” he said softly. “Whatever you see, I want you to remain relaxed. You are perfectly safe. Nothing can harm you here. Do you understand?” “Yes.” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from faraway. “Good.” He slipped deeper into her mind, moving backward through her memories, starting with the most recent. They flashed through his mind’s eye, a rapid, flickering jumble of images. He saw himself in many of them. As he moved still deeper into her mind, he slowed down, pausing every so often to hold and examine a memory. She was in school, eyes focused on the open book in front of her, but not really seeing the words, as she tried not to overhear the whispered conversation of the girls next to her. Their voices floated through Rafael’s mind. “She’s gotten so weird. She never smiles or talks to anyone.” “Don’t you know? She was kidnapped.” “Really?” “Yeah. She tells people that she had mono and that’s why she wasn’t in school, but everyone knows the truth. My mom said it was on the news.” “Really? Wow. Did they catch the guy?”

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“Shh! She’ll hear you.” Rafael shifted his consciousness out of the memory and continued to move deeper, suppressing his anger at the girls’ callous attitude toward Carrie’s suffering. They were only children, unaware of how their gossip hurt her. He encountered a wall of dense fog in her mind, a barrier, and he knew he had found what he sought. He pushed experimentally against the barrier, testing its strength, and recognized at once that the barrier had been placed here, within her mind, by someone other than Carrie herself. He had used similar barriers to obscure the memories of others when it became necessary. She had not simply repressed these memories. Someone had manipulated her mind. Rage bubbled within him at the thought. Carrie had told him she’d undergone hypnosis in the past. Was it possible that another human had placed this barrier here while she was in a trance? No, he thought, no human was capable of creating a barrier like this. It was too powerful. Yet she had not forgotten completely. The memories were always there, lurking in the back of her thoughts, darkening her world. He knew that he could not erase her pain, not without destroying the person she was, but perhaps he could find some way to make it more bearable for her. Before he could do that, however, he needed to understand exactly what had happened, who–and what–her kidnapper was. He moved through the fog, into the darkness. He saw a brief image of an old, white house in the middle of the woods, a house with dark windows like staring eyes. Then he saw a basement, bare cement walls harshly illuminated by a single, naked bulb. The walls were grimy, covered with smears of something dark, something that could have been old, dried blood. He submerged himself fully in the memory, becoming Carrie as she was then, a child trapped in a nightmare. He–she–panted for breath, heart racing. Her nose was filled with the smell of mold, and an old, sour, rancid smell, like decaying garbage. Carrie tried to move, but she was bound. She could feel the coarse ropes biting into the sensitive skin of her wrists and ankles, rubbing them raw. A man stood in the middle of the room. He was of medium build and height, and deceptively normal-looking, with light brown hair and a thin face. If not for the look in his eyes, his face would have appeared mild and non-threatening, but his eyes were a demon’s. They were wide, crazed, bulging slightly and bloodshot at the edges. He wore a flannel shirt and old jeans, and he was smiling. His thin, red lips were wet with saliva. He licked them. Slowly, he approached and crouched so that he was at eye-level with Carrie. “Hi there,” he said. “What do you want with me?” Carrie asked in a small voice. “Just to play,” said the man. His smile widened. “We’re going to have lots of fun together, you and I.” Slowly, he pulled a pocketknife from his jean-pocket and flicked it open. Carrie whimpered. “Shhh.” The knife caressed her cheek. “Just be a good girl and do as I say, and everything will be all right.” He leaned toward her. His eyes were an ordinary brown. But deep within, a pale, green fire burned. He’s not human, thought Carrie. “No, I’m not. Smart girl.” His smile widened. “That’s right. I can hear what

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you’re thinking.” He tapped his temple with a pale, thin finger. “Remember that.” Rafael pulled back, out of the memory. Hot rage boiled up in him. He pushed it down. He had to learn more. He moved forward, to a more recent memory. He’d caught a brief glimpse of it earlier, and something about it had caught his attention. It was very recent, he noted– from the afternoon of the day she had met him. She was standing in front of the same house where she’d been held prisoner for so long. It loomed before her like the bones of a long-dead monster, pale and stark. She entered the house, walked deeper, into the cold, dark shadows, thick with dust. She opened a door, stared down into darkness, and a deep, hoarse voice spoke her name. The voice was in her mind, yet it was real, all too real. She thought it was a hallucination, but Rafael recognized it for what it was. In a flash of insight, he understood. Dacy was not dead. He was still inside her, haunting her thoughts, toying with her, torturing her. He had been doing it for years, making her believe she was hallucinating. He was a telepath, like Rafael, and he had formed a deep link with Carrie--a link which only his death could break.

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Chapter Nine Rafael withdrew from Carrie’s memories. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Carrie sat staring straight ahead, her hands in his, her lips trembling slightly. She had relived the memories as he examined them–it was unavoidable–and tears streaked her pale cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb and cradled her chin in his palm. “It’s all in the past,” he said softly. “It can’t harm you now.” “I don’t want to go back there again,” she whispered. “You’re safe,” he said. “I promise you I will not let anything harm you.” He stared into her eyes and delved into her memories once more. Now that he was becoming familiar with the intricate pathways of her mind, he was able to move more quickly, locating the memory he needed within seconds. He pulled it closer, enlarging and sharpening the image. Carrie stood in a cold, white room, surrounded by men in white coats. She was looking at a corpse on a metal table. “Is this him?” a man asked. She stared at the dead body, and the image wavered before her eyes. The features blurred and changed. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s him.” “Are you certain?” Carrie was cold and afraid. She wanted to leave. “Yes. It’s him.” Rafael knew, however, that the man on the table was not Dacy. His hair was lighter, his face softer and rounder … or had been, before Dacy slipped into Carrie’s mind and distorted her perception. Rafael withdrew carefully from the memory. “When I speak your name,” he said quietly, “you will be fully awake again, and you will feel exactly as you did before you entered this trance. Do you understand?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Carrie,” he said. Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly focused on his. A small furrow appeared in her brow. “Is it over?” He nodded. She smiled uneasily. “You’re good. The last thing I remember is agreeing to let you put me in a trance and sitting down on the bed with you.” She touched her forehead lightly. “You … you saw it? Everything?” “I saw what I needed to see.” She bit her lower lip. “It’s all right, Carrie.” “You aren’t disgusted?” “Of course not. Not with you.” At the thought of what had been done to her, hot anger surged through him again … and again, he forced it down. He needed control. “Carrie,” Rafael began, and paused. He wondered for a moment what the best way to tell

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her was, then decided to be straightforward. “John Dacy was a powerful telepath. He placed a barrier in your mind to prevent you from remembering the incident clearly.” Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “But why?” “Because he didn’t want you to remember his face,” said Rafael. “He didn’t want you to realize that the dead body they found in that house was not him.” Her brow furrowed. Then shock and comprehension dawned in her face. “You mean … he might not be dead?” “I believe Dacy is still alive. Your hallucinations, the voices you hear …,” he paused, wondering if she was ready for this. “What about them? I need to know, Rafael.” It would terrify her, he knew, but she deserved the truth. “They are not hallucinations. He’s been speaking to you in your mind all this time.” Carrie placed a hand over her mouth. The color drained from her face and, for a moment, he thought she might actually faint, but she only sat staring at him. Her eyes were huge. “How can you be sure?” she asked in a small voice. “How do you know it’s him?” “It could be no one else. The green fire in his eyes marks him as one of my kind. I recognize the type of link he’s created. It gives him access to your mind whenever he wishes. The voices you hear are not the symptom of a brain disease, they are the work of a sadistic telepath.” “Oh God.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “All this time, all those visits to the psychiatrists …. I was so sure it was all just in my own head. Was I just blinding myself to the truth?” “No. There is no way you could have known. A brain disorder was the most rational explanation for what was happening to you. It just so happens that in this case, the most rational answer wasn’t the correct one.” Her breathing quickened. There was a wildness in her eyes, something close to panic. “He’s been in my head this whole time, watching me. He’s been responsible for everything. The voices, the pain.” Rafael gripped her shoulders. He stared into her eyes and projected calm into her mind until her rapid heartbeat slowed. “I will not let anyone harm you. I swear it. I will hunt this man down and make him pay for what he did.” She shook her head. “Rafael, no. It’s not your responsibility. And he could be anywhere now! It’s been over ten years.” “While he still lives, I won’t be able to rest,” said Rafael. “He’s dangerous. And if he’s not stopped, he’ll continue to hurt you.” He stood and paced, his jaw clenched. “Before this, I’d never encountered evidence of another one of my kind, another person who could do the things I can do. We are the last of a dying breed, he and I. I might be the only person capable of stopping this monster. I must find him. A telepath with a sadistic appetite for young girls … there’s no telling how many innocent children he’s harmed by now. A man with his powers is virtually unstoppable.” He turned to stare at her. She sat on the edge of the bed, her brown eyes enormous, her face white. “There is no reason to fear,” he said. “I would die before I let him come within a

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mile of you.” “I’m not afraid for myself. I’m afraid for you. If he’s really as powerful as you say, what makes you convinced that you can defeat him alone?” She stood and gripped his arm. “Please, don’t do anything reckless, Rafael. If I lose you now, I don’t know what I’ll do.” “You will not lose me.” He pulled her against his and held her tightly. He could feel her heart pounding. “Why not just go to the police?” she asked. “We can tell them what we know, that he’s alive. They might be able to track him down. It’s their job. Why not leave it to them?” “You know the answer to that.” “You think they wouldn’t believe us. But you could make them believe, couldn’t you? I think in this case, you’d be justified using your powers. It’s the only way to stop Dacy.” Rafael shook his head. “Even if I made them believe us, and even if they found him, they would be no match for Dacy. If his powers are even a fraction as strong as mine are, he has nothing to fear from the police. He would simply paralyze their minds, make them helpless, and kill them at his leisure. No, a swift execution is the only way to stop this monster. And I am the only one who can do that.” Carrie rested her forehead against his chest. “Rafael,” she whispered. He smoothed her hair. “I know what I’m up against. Have faith in me.” “What are you planning to do?” “I must go to the place where he kept you. Violent events leave an emotional residue, like a psychic scent. The stronger the emotions involved, the longer the residue lingers. Perhaps I will be able to follow his trail from there.” “I still think we should wait. But if you’re going, then I’m going with you.” He tensed. “No.” “I might be able to help you. Being there might jog my memory, help me remember some things I’ve repressed. Any information is helpful, right?” He shook his head. “Being in that place will only cause you needless distress.” She frowned. “I’m not going to just sit around at home while you’re out searching for this monster. If there’s anything I can do to help, no matter how small, I want to do it. Besides, I can’t hide from my memories forever, can I? I have to face my own demons. Everyone does. Maybe I can’t confront this guy directly, but I can at least confront my own memories.” He sighed through his teeth. “Whatever point you’re trying to prove, it can’t be worth putting yourself in danger.” “If you’re the only person who can stop Dacy, then the safest place is by your side.” “Not in this case. Please, Carrie. Just listen to me in this.” He cupped her chin in his palm and looked into her wide eyes. “Trust me.” There was worry in her eyes–worry for him. When was the last time anyone had given a damn enough to worry about him? Slowly, he leaned toward her and pressed his mouth to her soft, full lips. He felt them part, allowing his tongue to slide between them, into the hot silk of her mouth. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer, crushing her soft body against his. Her nipples stiffened beneath her thin sweatshirt, pushing against his bare chest. Her body

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was so sensitive, so eager for his touch. It was so hard to resist her, even when he was furious, even when the blood in his veins pounded for the death of her tormentor. He trailed kisses down the length of her slender, pale neck, pausing to caress her fluttering pulse with his tongue. His hand slipped down, between her smooth, warm thighs, to cup her pussy, feeling its heat against his palm, feeling the throb of each heartbeat in that soft flesh. He felt her fingers on his shoulders, clutching tightly, as if for support. Her large eyes closed, and he kissed the eyelids, feeling the tickle of her soft, thick lashes against his lips. His palm pushed harder, into her wet, silken heat, grinding against her folds. “Rafael.” His name escaped her lips as a soft breath. “It’s not fair, the way you do that.” “The way I do what?” he asked, his lips moving close to her ear. “The way you turn me into putty with just a touch. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. But now I can barely remember what we were talking about. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to distract me.” With an obvious effort, she placed her hands against the broad wall of his chest and pushed herself backwards, away from him. “When are we leaving?” Rafael frowned. “I am leaving this very day.” He softened his tone. “Please, Carrie. You must trust my judgment in this matter. I would rather not compel you to stay, but I will, if I have to.” “Compel me? What are you going to do? Chain me to the bed?” “I don’t need to chain you. I would simply place you in a deep trance until I returned.” She took a step backwards. Anger flashed in her eyes. “Are you going to do this every time we have a disagreement? Just decide what’s best and then impose your will on me?” “When it is necessary,” he said. “I can’t live like that, Rafael. You said you respected my mind, my intelligence, but how can you, if you don’t trust my judgment? Was all that just talk?” His jaw clenched. “This is a matter of life and death. You expect me to stand aside and let you endanger your life recklessly?” “From where I’m standing, that seems to be exactly what you’re doing. You know next to nothing about this man aside from what you’ve seen in my memories, which may not even be accurate, yet you’re ready to rush off and fight him, and you expect me to just let you go without a word of protest. Yet when I want to do something you perceive as risky, suddenly you’re justified in using brute force to stop me. How is that fair? I know you’re used to pretty much doing whatever you want ....” “What I believe is right. Not whatever I want.” “Maybe in your mind there’s a difference, but the result is the same. If that’s how it’s going to be between us, if you won’t allow me to make my own choices, this won’t work.” He took a deep breath, seeking patience. He was filled with hot urgency. Everything inside him burned to go after Dacy. “What do you expect me to do?” “Talk to me. We’re rational adults. We can come to a compromise.” “I can’t compromise your safety.” He took a step toward her. She tensed, but stood her ground as he stared hard into her huge, brown eyes. “If, after this, you no longer wish to see me, then I will go. If you ask it of me, I will vanish from your life and

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you will never hear from me again. But I will not budge in this matter. I will not allow you to participate in this hunt. And I will compel you to remain, if necessary, until the creature is dead.” She looked up at him uncertainly. “You would leave me after this, if I asked you?” “Yes,” he said, “though it would be like ripping a piece out of my soul, I would respect your wish in that matter.” “But not in this.” “No.” He stroked the back of her cheek with one finger. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am simply a tyrant accustomed to doing whatever he pleases. In truth, I don’t care who is right or wrong. I will do whatever I can to keep you safe, because I can do nothing else. Because if any harm came to you, and I was unable to prevent it, my existence would become a hell on earth.” Carrie shook her head, averted her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. “How can you feel that way about me?” she whispered. “We haven’t known each other long enough for you to say things like that and mean them.” “I do mean them.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her body was so small, so soft. Feeling it against his only heightened his awareness of her vulnerability. She had a strong mind and heart, but those would not protect her against a monster like the one who had hurt her so long ago. “You are unlike anyone I have ever met. Over the years, I have known many women, but you are the first to see me as I truly am, the first who ever sought to understand me. Others just saw whatever they wished to see … and none were so gentle, yet so strong. I will keep you safe,” he said softly. “No matter what. Even if it means doing something that will make you hate me.” Her large eyes closed. Her lashes were wet with tears. “Nothing could make me hate you,” she whispered. “I already love you with my whole heart. Sometimes you scare me and sometimes you’re infuriating, but still, I love you. I know it’s insane to feel that way so soon, but I do. I can’t deny it anymore, not even to myself. But Rafael … I feel that something terrible will happen if you face Dacy alone. I’m certain of it. And I’m afraid. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I’m begging you. What you’re doing is reckless. You haven’t thought about this long enough.” “I don’t need to think. I know what must be done.” Carrie pulled away from him and wiped the back of one hand across her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t stop you.” There was a hollow hopelessness in her voice. “Do whatever you think is necessary.” Seeing the flat despair in her eyes, knowing he had caused it, made his heart ache. But he kept his expression rigid, knowing he couldn’t afford to budge–not in this. Once Dacy was dead, he would worry about the repercussions of his actions, but his first priority was eliminating the threat. “We must go elsewhere, first. By now, I am sure, this man knows where you live. I will take you to the hotel room where I’ve been staying and place you in a deep trance. He won’t know where you are, and he will be unable to touch your mind and find out.” “But if he’s been responsible for my nightmares, too, he can reach me when I’m asleep.” “You will not merely be asleep, but in a state of unconsciousness so deep and

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complete that no telepath, no matter how powerful, will be able to reach your thoughts. It is the only way you will be safe from him.” “Isn’t there any way to break the link between his mind and mine?” He shook his head. “It is too deep. I couldn’t break it without harming you. The best I can do is to keep you in a trance until he is dead.” “What if you don’t come back? Will I sleep forever?” “No. After awhile, the trance will become normal sleep and you will awaken. But I will return. I promise you.” “That’s something you can’t promise. You don’t know how strong he is.” She met his gaze, and her face was filled with naked desperation. “Won’t you reconsider?” She took his clenched fist in her hands. Her thumb stroked his knuckles as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Please.” He shook his head. His heart pounded like a drum. Rage–rage at the monster who had hurt her–burned through every fiber of his mind and body, and he knew with a gut-deep certainty that he could not rest until the man was dead. He took her hands in his and gently pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.” A spark of defiance leapt in her eyes. “What happens if I resist? You knock me out and throw me over your shoulder?” “That wouldn’t be necessary. I can control your mind if I need to. Resist if your pride demands it, but it will do no good.” “You’re totally convinced that this is the right thing to do, aren’t you?” “It is what I must do.” Carrie shook her head. “You’re very powerful, Rafael, but you’re not a god. You can make mistakes.” “In this, I am not mistaken.” He cupped her face with one hand. His thumb touched the corner of her mouth, stroked her full, soft lower lip. “When I return, Dacy will be dead. And you will be safe.” Carrie said nothing. She looked up at him, and beneath the fear in her eyes there was something else. Disappointment. In some way, he had let her down, but he knew he could not afford to dwell on it now. He could not afford hesitance. “Let’s go,” he said. **** She was silent during the drive, staring straight ahead, her face blank. When they reached the hotel, he brought her to his room, faced her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. They were tense, the muscles rigid and hard. “Look into my eyes.” She lowered her eyes, her jaw tightening. He felt her resistance, her mind pulling away from his, but he repeated firmly, “Look into my eyes, Carrie.” No human could resist his power for long. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. Her shoulders relaxed under his hands as her eyes grew wide and blank. Gently, he lifted her into his arms, lowered her to the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. “Sleep,” he commanded softly. Her eyes remained open. Even now, she resisted him. He felt a tiny tug within his mind, and Carrie’s voice whispered, Don’t do this, Rafael. I am sorry, Carrie, but I must, he replied. “Sleep,” he said again, more firmly. Her eyelids sank as she descended into a deep sleep. He guided her mind past the dreaming stage, into the deepest reaches of sleep, where no one would be able to touch her. She would not awaken for at least eight hours. “Sleep well,” he murmured. His

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fingers trailed over her soft cheek, her lips. He kissed her softly. Then he turned away. He would find the monster and kill him. He would end Carrie’s suffering. His fingers twitched and curled into tight fists. His heart thumped like a war drum, steady and hard, filling his body and brain. He dressed, quietly and quickly, and left the hotel. **** The house looked exactly as it had in Carrie’s memories. Rafael pulled his car up in front of it. He got out and stared at the darkened, broken windows, the peeling, grayish paint and brown, dead vines. It was an ugly place, precisely the sort of place a sadist would choose as a prison for his victims. Rage blazed inside him again. He took a deep breath, bringing it down to a low burn. He would use his anger, but he would not allow himself to become rash and careless. He needed to remain cautious, in control. He could not afford to make a mistake. More than his own life depended on it. Rafael approached the house, his mind clear and alert. As he neared the front door, he paused and scanned the area. His mind swept over the surrounding forest like a radar. He felt the presence of small animals around him, birds and rabbits. He could feel the minds of most warm-blooded animals. Reptiles, fish and insects were too simple, their consciousness too dim, if they had any consciousness at all. He felt the nervous alertness of a squirrel, the hunger of a coyote hunting a half-mile away, but he felt no human presence nearby. There was no one within the house. But his prey was a telepath. He might be able to shield his mind. Rafael scanned the house again. Still nothing. He strode to the front door and pushed it open. A beam of weak sunlight fell into the room beyond, onto a cracked and warped wood floor. Ancient, moldering furniture stood within. He walked through the living room, into the kitchen. Dusty cabinets lined the walls, which were covered with ancient, peeling wallpaper, like the skin of some diseased beast. The back of Rafael’s neck prickled, and goose-bumps rose on his arms. It was only an empty room, yet there was something unspeakably loathsome about this place, as if the evil of its occupant had sunk into the very wood of the walls and floor. He sniffed the air. He smelled only dust, decay and mold, yet the feeling of unease remained. He moved deeper into the kitchen, every sense heightened and alert for danger. There were no windows here to light the way, and the ceiling lamp had long since burned out, but his eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing the white walls and faded, weathered floor as if they were illuminated by the noonday sun. He touched the walls, trying to pick up some trace of Dacy’s presence, some hint of his intentions. An image flashed through his mind. He saw a little girl cowering in the corner of a dark room, looking up with huge eyes. Then it was gone. He tensed, heartbeat quickening. Had that been Carrie at an earlier age? Had he picked up the ghost of Dacy’s memory, still lurking in this place? His heart twisted inside him. He had done some shameful things in his life, but the idea of inflicting such pain on an innocent child was unbearable to him. Rafael’s fingers curled like claws. He raked furrows through the thin, brittle wallpaper, scratching the wood beneath. He walked on, the floorboards creaking beneath his footsteps, until he came to a rectangle of darkness, another doorway, and a set of cement steps leading downward. He lay a hand on the cold wall within the stairwell. This was it. These stairs led to the basement where Carrie had been held prisoner. Slowly, he began the descent into darkness.

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When he came to the bottom of the stairs, he ran his hand along the wall until his fingers encountered a light switch. He flipped it, and cold, harsh light flooded the room, illuminating the filthy, cracked walls and cement floor. A roach scuttled away from the light, vanishing into a crack as wide as a man’s finger. There were bloodstains, dark and sunken into the floor. Terror and despair lay, thick as dust, over the whole room. Even the air tasted wrong, as if it were saturated with the sick pleasure of the kidnapper and the desperation of his victims. Rafael placed a hand on the wall and focused his concentration. There. Something flickered in his mind, a tiny spark of light. The spark expanded, filled his mind’s eye. He saw a road lined with strip malls and gas stations. He saw a pair of pale, bony hands on a steering wheel. The car rounded a turn. The whole image shifted to the right, and Rafael found himself looking at a street sign. Orange Road, it read. He recognized it as one of the roads he’d taken when driving Carrie to the hotel. He heard a low, hoarse chuckle and felt an eagerness that was not his own. There was something obscene about it, something that made his skin crawl. The car rounded another turn, then the vision faded. Rafael was left standing with his eyes closed, puzzled. What did it mean? Then understanding crashed in. Rafael’s eyes snapped open. Icy water drenched his heart, and his stomach knotted. Dacy was on his way to the hotel right now. How had he found out? Had he been linked to Carrie’s mind during the drive? Or had he, perhaps, been able to glean the information from Rafael’s mind? Rafael had been certain that if anyone tried to probe his thoughts, he would be able to feel it … but then, he had no idea how strong this man was. His heart pounded as he ran up the stairs, out of the house, to his car. He had been a fool to leave her alone and unprotected. His instinct had been to keep her somewhere safe, somewhere she couldn’t be reached, but as long as Dacy lived, nowhere would be truly safe. He leapt into the car, slammed the door, and started the engine. He turned and sped down the narrow, dirt road, heedless of the bumps and potholes. Please, he thought, please, let me reach her first.

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Chapter Ten Carrie stirred. A finger stroked her cheek. She knew instantly that it was not Rafael. His hands were always warm. This man’s skin was cold and clammy, and the touch reminded her somehow of spiders. She shuddered, and heard a deep chuckle. Her eyes flew open. The tip of a cold knife pressed to her cheek. A man grinned down at her, a man with pale skin and lank brown hair. Green flames burned deep in his eyes. “Remember me?” he said. Carrie lay, breathing raggedly, her eyes wide. He looked exactly the same as he had ten years ago. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? He should have aged. This had to be a bad dream. She tried to pull away and realized she was bound. Ropes bit into her wrists, her ankles, secured her arms to her sides. She looked around at the room. She wasn’t in the hotel anymore. She was in a small room she’d never seen before, lit by a single lamp. The walls were dirty and cracked, the threadbare carpet mottled with brown stains. She didn’t want to guess what those stains might be. She was on a narrow bed with yellowed sheets. The knife stroked her cheek, then trailed down to her throat and rested against her pulse. Dacy licked his thin, chapped lips. The lower lip had split down the center and crusted over with blackish, dried blood. “We have a lot of catching up to do, you and I. But then, I never really left you. I’ve always been a part of you. Heartwarming, isn’t it?” Carrie opened her mouth to scream but suddenly found that she couldn’t produce a sound. It was as if someone had shut off her vocal chords. A sudden, burning pain shot down her spine, and her back arched off the bed. Her hands clenched into tight fists as she gasped for air. The pain coursed through her body like acid, burning into her nerves and muscles. Then, abruptly, it was gone, as if he had flipped a switch. “I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” said Dacy. “You can speak if you wish. I do enjoy hearing that pretty little voice of yours, especially when you’re frightened. But keep your tone respectful.” She tried to control her breathing, her panic. Rafael would come for her. She just had to stall until he arrived. Are you so sure? whispered a voice in her mind. After all, Rafael had never imagined that Dacy would come for her. He was out chasing after shadows, God knew where … and even if he came back to the hotel early and found her gone, he had no idea where she was. She had no idea where she was. “How did you find me?” she asked. “Please. It was easy. Do you think anyone could block me out of your head? There is no barrier I can’t penetrate.” The knife-point slipped beneath the collar of her shirt and began to cut, slowly, through the fabric, slitting a neat line down the middle of her shirt, between her breasts. She swallowed a whimper. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and tapped a finger against his greasy temple. His lips stretched wide in a grin. “Why now? I stayed away from you for over ten years. Why would I come to you again now, after all this time?” The green fire in his eyes burned brighter. “I wasn’t

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planning to, you know. I planned to keep toying with your mind until you finally snapped and slit your wrists, or wound up in a straightjacket. You’re a bit old for my tastes, after all. Though I will admit that even after all this time, there’s still something … compelling about you.” He licked his lips again, his eyes roving over her bound form. “Maybe that’s why I let you live.” His fingers tightened on the knife’s handle. “But then he showed up.” “Rafael?” Rage flared in the Dacy’s eyes, and he pressed the knife’s tip to the hollow between her collarbones. She felt a sharp, hot pain. “Don’t even say his name,” he said. He was breathing heavily. Spittle flecked his lips. “It pisses me off. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. He had no right to start meddling. I knew he’d eventually use you to find me, if I left things alone, so I decided it was time to end this little game. Oh, and he isn’t coming to save you. He won’t even realize I’m here until you’re dead. When he finally shows up, I’ll be gone, and only your corpse will be left.” Carrie clenched her teeth. She felt a stab of pain in her heart at the thought of Rafael finding her dead. “What are you?” she asked. “A thing that was never meant to exist.” Goose-bumps rose on her flesh. Rafael had used the same words … or close to them. “He’s the same as I am. We’re both children of darkness, the last of a dying race.” “I ... I don’t understand.” “Fairies. Gods. Demons. Vampires. Call us whatever you want. We are the stuff of legend--creatures of power, creatures that look like humans, walk among humans, but are not human. All those old stories had to come from somewhere, didn’t they? There’s a grain of truth buried in every legend. And in this case, that grain is us. Our kind. There are so few of us left, now, that we’ve forgotten where we came from or what we are. Did humans create us? Or did humans descend from us? Who the hell knows?” He chuckled. “But it doesn’t matter, really. I’m here, and I’m one of the last. Maybe, one of these days, I’ll be the very last. The last god.” He toyed with a lock of her hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “I like the ring of that. The last god.” Carrie closed her eyes. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I want to. Because it pleases me.” The knife-point wandered along her jaw-line, over her neck, tracing patterns, not quite hard enough to pierce the skin. “Do I need another reason?” “Don’t you have any conscience? Don’t you feel any shame for what you do?” “Why would I? Humans are like flies. Common, dirty, and cheap. Thousands of them die every day. What difference does one more human life make?” “You’re sick,” she whispered. “What happened to you? What have humans done to you, to make you hate them so much?” He sighed and twirled the knife. “You modern humans and your goddamn psychoanalysis. You see something that frightens you, confuses you, and your first impulse is to diagnose it. I liked it better when your kind just called me a demon from hell and tried to burn me. It was more honest. Now you hide behind complicated theories, try to prop yourselves up with fancy academic language, but you’re still the same frightened, gibbering apes, shrinking from the darkness.” He smiled. “To answer

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your question, no, I don’t feel guilt. Guilt is for the weak. I’ve lived long enough to see morality for what it really is–a way for the weak to impose shackles on the strong. There’s no good or evil, no karma, no ultimate justice. Humans are born, we live, we die, we suffer. That’s all there is.” The knife slid across her cheek, and she gasped at the pain. He lifted the bloody knife to his nose and breathed in deeply, as if savoring the smell. His tongue crept out to taste it. “I wish I could stay to see the look on his face when he finds you here with your guts decorating the room like tinsel. But that probably would not be wise.” Carrie trembled with anger. Her heart pounded. In a sudden surge of strength, she lifted her bound legs off the bed and drove her feet into Dacy’s crotch. His eyes widened, bugging out of the sockets, and his mouth opened as his face flushed a bright red. The knife slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. Seeing her opportunity, Carrie rolled off the bed, landing on her side, and grasped for the knife. With her wrists bound behind her back, she had limited mobility, but she stretched her fingers until they brushed against cold steel. Heart racing, she curled her fingers around the knife’s handle. A hot, red pain burst in her skull, and she screamed. Dacy yanked the knife from her fingers. He loomed over her, breathing hard, cradling his genitals gingerly in one hand. “You are going to be very sorry you did that,” he said, his voice hoarse. Carrie tried to roll away, but he planted a foot on her chest, pressing down. “I’m going to take you apart,” he said, “one piece at a time.” The knife descended slowly. At that moment, something thudded heavily into the door. Dacy tensed and looked up, teeth bared. Another thud, then another, and the door burst open. Rafael charged into the room, his eyes blazing blue. The fire was no longer merely a spark in his pupils. It had swallowed his eyes entirely. They burned like balls of sapphire flame, a cold, ruthless light. Carrie had never seen him look so terrifying. Dacy whirled to face him. His eyes burned brilliant green. He opened his mouth and let out a harsh, piercing scream, like the scream of a cougar. Raw power washed through Carrie’s mind. She’d never felt anything like it. It bathed her, filled her. Every nerve ending danced and crackled with energy. The full force of Rafael’s power collided with Dacy’s in an explosion of green and blue energy that filled the room, blinding her. Stars burst across her vision. As they faded, she saw Dacy struggle to his feet, gripping the knife-handle. He lunged at Rafael. Rafael grabbed his wrist and squeezed. The knife clattered to the floor. “She’s mine!” Dacy screamed. “I had her first! You can’t take her!” Rafael’s eyes narrowed to glowing, blue slits. Dacy howled and clutched his head with his free hand. Another flare of power erupted from him. It seemed to shake the entire room. He was like a wounded animal, lashing out blindly. Carrie screamed as invisible blades sliced through her head and hot pain lacerated her skin like a thousand shards of glass. She blacked out. When she opened her eyes, she saw Dacy dangling in midair. Rafael’s hands were locked around his throat, squeezing. He twisted. There was a snap, and Dacy’s body went limp. Rafael dropped him, and the body hit the floor with a thud, like a sack of meat. Rafael stood over his corpse, chest heaving. Sweat glistened on his face. He looked down at Carrie and the fire died from his eyes. Slowly, he crouched and reached

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out to touch her cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked, his deep voice very soft. She managed a nod. She was shaking hard, weak with terror and relief. She could hardly believe it had all ended so quickly. Rafael took the knife and cut her bindings. The ropes fell away. He pulled her against his body and held her tightly for a long moment. Then he took her numb hands in both of his and gently massaged the wrists and palms with his thumbs until blood started to flow again, and her hands tingled, growing warmer. “I was almost too late,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter,” Carrie whispered. “You came.” “It does matter.” He looked at Dacy’s corpse. “This was my fault. You almost died because I stupidly left you alone here. I thought I was protecting you. Instead, I put you in the most vulnerable position possible.” “It’s over now,” said Carrie. Slowly, she stood. Her knees felt like jelly. She had to grab a bedpost to keep from falling. Rafael stood and placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. She looked up, into his eyes. “How did you find me?” “I know the pattern of your thoughts. Once you regained consciousness, I was able to pinpoint your location fairly easily.” “Like a telepathic radar,” she murmured. He nodded. “It’s fortunate Dacy didn’t take you very far. He just brought you to a motel a few miles away.” Carrie wondered briefly how Dacy had managed to bring her unconscious body into a motel without attracting attention. But then, if his powers were anything like Rafael’s, he could make people see anything he wanted. She leaned against Rafael’s warm, solid body. She was so tired. She wanted to collapse into his arms and just forget everything. “What do we do now?” “We leave him here,” said Rafael. His expression hardened. “I’m not going to bury this scum. Let the police find his corpse.” Carrie looked down at the body. Dacy’s head was bent at an odd angle. His bloodshot eyes bugged out, and his tongue protruded from between his lips. Froth coated his mouth and chin. He no longer looked frightening, just absurd, in a grisly sort of way. Somehow, that made it all the more horrible. She swallowed and looked up at Rafael. “There’ll be an investigation. What if they find out …?” “I can make the police believe whatever I want. We’ll answer their questions, if they come to us, but we won’t be suspects.” He glanced down at her legs. “Can you walk?” “I think so,” she said. She rubbed the back of one hand across her eyes. “Take me home, Rafael. Please?” He nodded and slipped an arm around her. They walked out the door and down a narrow, dimly lit hall with faded blue carpet, leaving Dacy’s corpse on the floor.

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Chapter Eleven Later, in her apartment, Rafael drew a hot bath for her. She sank into the steaming water and stared into space as he slowly, gently washed her, rubbing a soapy sponge over her shoulders, back and arms, then pouring cupfuls of water over her to rinse away the suds. “It’s hard for me to believe it’s really over,” she said, “that he’s really dead.” “He’s dead,” said Rafael. His expression was still blank, closed-off. “Had you not been there, I would have done more. After all the suffering he caused, he deserved worse than a quick, clean death.” Rafael’s hand tightened on the sponge and he took a slow, deep breath, as if bringing himself under control. “I wanted to make him suffer. But more than that, I wanted to make you safe, to bring you back home, and I could only do that with him dead.” Carrie looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Would you have tortured him, if I hadn’t been there?” “Yes. I would have. And probably enjoyed it a great deal.” He looked away, his eyes vague, unfocused. “If you saw all that I was capable of, I doubt you would be comfortable sitting in the same room with me, much less allowing me to wash you. But I would never hurt you, Carrie.” “I know you wouldn’t,” she said. She stared down into the water as his strong hands rubbed her shoulders. Rafael had killed a man, and he wasn’t even slightly concerned that the police might come for him, or that he might end up in jail. Of course he wasn’t. With the power to manipulate the minds of everyone around him, he could make himself appear innocent even if all the evidence pointed to him. She knew that what he had done was necessary, and she was alive now because of it, and she certainly didn’t want him to be caught … yet still, a part of her protested that no one should have power like that. No one should be a law unto himself. Yet, Rafael had not chosen his powers. They had been thrust upon him. “Have you ever killed anyone before?” she asked. “Yes,” he said simply, but didn’t offer an explanation. His hands continued to gently, firmly knead her shoulders. His thumbs pressed into tense muscles and rotated slowly. “You fear me now,” he said, a quiet resignation in his voice. “I’ve always been a little afraid of you. But I’m grateful to you, as well. Now, for the first time in my life since the kidnapping, I’m free. I won’t hear his voice anymore. You don’t know how much that means to me.” “When I think about how long you lived in fear of that monster, I want to go back and kill him all over again.” Rafael lifted one of her hands and held it in his own, carefully, as if it were made of porcelain. His thumb traced a line in her palm, and a shiver raced down her spine. Her eyes slipped shut as her breathing quickened. Rafael drained the water in the tub, lifted her out–he had taken off his shirt, so as not to get it wet–and wrapped her in a towel before carrying her to the bedroom. He

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lowered her to the bed and wrapped another towel around her hair, rubbing it dry. She looked up at his face. There was something inherently fierce in his features, the cold, clear eyes, the firm line of his mouth … yet his touch was infinitely gentle. She wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. He pulled the covers over her naked body. His calloused fingertips touched her lips, traced their shape. His gaze moved slowly over her face, lingering on each feature, as if burning her image into his memory. “I’m sorry,” said Carrie. “For what?” “Causing you so much trouble.” “Do not apologize. What happened to you today was my fault.” He brushed a few strands of hair from her brow. “I did a reckless, arrogant thing, and you nearly died.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “You begged me not to leave you helpless and alone, but I was so certain that it was the only way to protect you. I underestimated Dacy. I didn’t think he’d be able to find you.” His fingers clenched on the sheets. “I was so eager to kill him for what he’d done to you. I let my anger dictate my actions.” She touched his lips with her fingertips, silencing him. “I know you were trying to protect me. But maybe in the future, we could talk these things out instead of you just doing whatever you think is right?” “I will not make such a mistake again. But you must understand, I am very accustomed to following my own judgment, my own instincts.” “I know. But I’m not just some valuable possession to be protected, Rafael. I’m a person, and I’m used to looking after myself, making my own choices. If you won’t trust me enough to let me do that, how can I trust you?” He leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “What can I do, then, to earn back your trust?” “Promise me. Promise me that you won’t ever use your powers on me against my will again.” He hesitated. “Rafael?” He nodded. “You have my word.” “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smiled with one corner of his mouth. “It was more difficult than you would believe. You have a talent for making me promise difficult things. But I always keep my word. Make no mistake about that.” “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She snuggled closer. “Rafael? Will you hold me?” “Yes,” he said, and slid beneath the covers. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close against the solid wall of his chest. She closed her eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart. What are you, Rafael? she wondered. Where do you come from? Was he an angel, a demon? Were his powers a genetic mutation, or a divine gift? Did it even matter? Rafael stroked her hair absently. “Before I killed him,” he said, “I looked into his mind. I was sickened by what I saw there. Darkness and filth. A lust for inflicting pain.” He paused. “I also absorbed some of his memories.”

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Carrie opened her eyes. “What did you see?” “Many things,” Rafael murmured. “Partial answers to questions that have haunted me since I was a boy. He was like me in that he drew psychic energy from humans to sustain his own life, but unlike me, he fed on their pain and fear.” Rafael’s eyes hardened. “He could have sustained himself in other ways, but he chose the most depraved method imaginable. He used humans–used children–ripped apart their minds and hearts, drank their agony like wine, then killed and discarded them.” “But … what was he?” “I wonder the same thing.” Rafael stared down at one hand. “What am I? I hunger for the answers, yet sometimes, I am afraid of what I will find.” “But you said you found answers in his mind.” “Hints, perhaps, fragments. But no clear answers.” He looked away. “His memories were disjointed and confused. Trying to piece them together is difficult. I saw that he was very old, though not as old as I am. I saw glimpses of his childhood in a small town in the early 1900’s, and … it jogged some of my own memories, old, painful memories that I had long since buried.” “What sort of memories?” “It doesn’t matter.” His large fingers stroked her cheek. “Sleep now, dear Carrie. You are exhausted.” “I don’t know if I can,” she murmured, but her eyelids were already sinking. “Sleep,” he urged. Carrie yawned and surrendered to exhaustion. Within moments, she drifted off. **** She stood on a cobblestone street. A crowd of people surrounded her, shouting, some of them holding torches. Thick, choking smoke rose into the air. It stung her eyes, filled her nose. She coughed and pressed a hand to her nose and mouth. It was night. A cold half-moon stared down from a gap in the clouds, bathing the surrounding buildings in waxy, ashen light. The crowd pressed in around the bound form of a woman in a billowy, white dress. She was bound upright to a wooden stake, arms behind her back, surrounded by kindling. As Carrie watched, people tossed more wood onto the pile. The woman’s dark eyes were huge, terrified in her pale face. Her lips trembled. The wind stirred wisps of her long, golden hair. “No!” she heard a voice scream. It seemed to come from her own mouth, yet it was not her voice. She tried to run to the woman. She would fling herself across the woman’s body, protect her, by any means necessary. She would kill those who threatened her. She would put a stop to this madness, somehow. Rough hands restrained her. “Be still, boy,” said a man’s deep voice. “This is the will of God.” “Damn your God!” Carrie screamed. Shocked faces turned to her. “Forgive the boy his blasphemy,” said the man. “He is grief-stricken. He knows not what he says.” She twisted in the man’s grip. “Damn you all! You monsters! It was me, not her! I’m the one you want! Let her go!” But they weren’t listening. Several men leaned forward and touched their torches

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to the mass of straw and wood surrounding the stakes. Flames licked the kindling and rushed up swiftly, devouring the straw. Sparks flew into the air. One landed on the hem of the woman’s nightgown, and it caught fire. She was breathing hard, chest heaving, eyes wild with fear. She shouted a name, almost lost under the roar of the flames, but Carrie read the movement of her lips: “Rafael!” **** She woke with a start. Rafael lay beside her, asleep, eyes twitching beneath his lids. His brow glistened with sweat. He groaned, a low, pained sound. “Rafael.” Dry-mouthed, Carrie gripped his shoulder and shook him. His eyes opened and focused on hers. “You were dreaming,” she said. He stared into her eyes. “You saw?” he whispered hoarsely. She nodded. “I don’t understand, but somehow, I saw it.” He sat up. His expression was suddenly blank, guarded. “What did you see?” Carrie looked up at him uncertainly. “People. A crowd. They were angry, shouting. There was a woman. She … they burned her.” Her wide eyes searched Rafael’s face, but his expression remained unreadable. “Who was she?” Rafael looked away. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was very soft. “That was a long time ago. I am sorry. Without meaning to, I projected my dream into your mind. I will take care that it does not happen again.” Carrie lay a hand on his arm. The muscles were tense, hard, beneath her fingertips. She squeezed gently. “It might help to talk about it. When’s the last time you confided in someone?” Silence. She squeezed his arm again. “Share your burdens with me, Rafael. Let me help. Please.” “I am accustomed to my burdens. Why should I trouble you with ugly stories of things long past?” He ran a hand through his dark, silky hair. “The past cannot be changed.” “No, but understanding your past might help me understand you. Don’t you see? I want to understand you, Rafael.” He looked at her and there was a terrible sadness in his eyes. His fingertips grazed her cheek, then his hand dropped to the bed, and he looked away. There was a long silence. “I am very old,” he said at last. “Old enough that I remember a time when people believed in magic, and demons, and witches. Believed in them and feared them. These days, it’s easier for those like me to go unnoticed. Most people simply ignore or rationalize away anything they can’t explain … or they treat it as entertainment. There are so many charlatans and frauds that it is easy for the real thing to slip, undetected, beneath the public’s awareness. In those days, things were different. We lived in the shadows.” “We?” “People like me. My mother and I had to be very careful not to draw too much attention to ourselves.” “You said your mother didn’t share your powers.” “She didn’t. But I was her son, and she did all she could to protect me, even when it meant endangering herself.”

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“What about your father?” “I don’t know. She never spoke of him.” He paused. “She knew that I was … unusual. Even when I was very young, she knew. She tried to shield me from the fear and superstition of others. When our neighbors grew suspicious, we would move to another town. She knew that if others discovered the truth, or even suspected it, they would kill us both. We traveled from village to village, never staying in one place for long. She warned me never to show others what I could do, and to use my mental abilities only when necessary, but I couldn’t understand why she was so afraid. Even when I was a child, ordinary people seemed weak and foolish to me … and of course, I was always eager to experiment with my powers. When I was alone, I controlled the minds of birds and animals for my own amusement. I called deer, rabbits and great clouds of sparrows from the forest. Once, I summoned a great, silver wolf and bade it carry me through the woods on its back. Foolish, childish antics. I was never seen, but I easily could have been. I look back now and regret how careless I was … for whenever I used my powers, I endangered not only my own life, but my mother’s.” “You were just a child,” said Carrie. “You didn’t know better.” He shook his head. “I should have known better. But as a child, at least, I avoided using my powers on other people. My mother strictly forbade me. Then, one day, when I was perhaps twelve, I saw a young man–the son of the village preacher– having his way with a girl even younger than I was, behind a barn. She was weeping, trying to push him away. I was furious. I tore into the man’s mind, filled his head with visions of ugliness and horror. I wanted to make him suffer for what he had done. He went mad, ran off into the forest. They found his body in the river a few days later, his face still frozen in a look of terror.” Another pause. “The villagers suspected witchcraft, but they did not suspect me. They blamed my mother for what I had done. She confessed, to direct suspicion away from me. To protect me.” His fingers tightened on the sheets. “They burned her. I was not yet strong enough to stop them. There were too many. I couldn’t control all their minds at once. I tried to help her, to put out the flames with my bare hands, but the villagers pulled me back and held me down while she burned. I remember her screams. Terrible sounds.” “Oh, Rafael.” Carrie’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so very, very sorry.” He sighed. His warm, blunt fingertips stroked her cheek, traced the shape of her face. “Do you see why I didn’t want to tell you? It does no good, and it only causes you pain.” His thumb brushed away a tear. His eyes were warm, gentle, as he looked into hers. “You feel others’ pain as your own. You should not have to see the ugliness in my past.” “But I want to know these things. I want to share that pain with you.” “I will never understand you.” She smiled through her tears. “You’re the one who’s hard to understand. You’re so mysterious all the time. But I want to know more. About you, about your past. Even the painful parts.” Rafael’s eyes searched her face. “And what of the cruel, ugly things that I myself have done, over the years? Do you wish to know about those, as well?” Carrie swallowed hard, but nodded. Rafael’s eyes searched hers. “You mean that?” “Of course. I want to know your whole self. Not just the parts that are easy to

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deal with.” “You are remarkable.” His hands framed her face, tilting her head back. His mouth brushed her throat. His tongue, like hot, wet velvet, stroked the tender place beneath her jaw, where her pulse beat fast and hard against the skin. “I keep thinking that you’ll pull away from me in fear,” he murmured, “that you’ll realize the truth about me and run. Perhaps that moment will come, someday.” “I won’t run away.” “Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep.” “You’re too cynical. You’ve forgotten how to trust people.” He captured her wrist, fingers encircling it like a band of iron. His eyes caught and held hers. She found herself pulled into those eyes, unable to look away. Blue fire flickered and swirled in their depths. His fingers tightened on her wrist. Her pulse fluttered beneath his thumb. “You’re a little fool,” he whispered hoarsely, but there was powerful emotion in those eyes. “You should be terrified of me.” “I want to be with you,” she whispered. “That is my choice.” His free hand slid down to cup her breast. The hard, calloused pad of his fingertip circled her soft, pink nipple, and it stiffened, turning pebble hard. He took the nipple between his teeth and tugged. His big hand slid further down, beneath the covers. His palm brushed over the hot, sensitive flesh tucked between her thighs. One long finger traced her cleft from top to bottom, lingered over the opening of her pussy, and pressed into her wetness. Her lips parted. A tiny moan escaped her throat. His finger slid out of her body, and he gripped her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. He pulled the covers off her, exposing her skin to the air. He circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue, then let his lips trail over her flat belly, until his breath stirred the silky curls between her thighs. He pressed a firm kiss to the lips of her pussy, then ran his tongue between them. Carrie’s breathing quickened. She tangled her fingers in his thick hair, gripping tightly, then gasped as his tongue darted out to stroke the tiny, protruding nub of her clit. With a finger and thumb, he deftly spread her pussy open. His eyes caressed her like a physical touch. It seemed she could feel the heat and weight of his gaze moving slowly over her folds. Every nerve ending crackled and danced like a sparkler. His forefinger circled her clit, grazed it, toyed with it, mercilessly exploiting that sensitive little button of flesh. She could feel his mind inside hers, enhancing every sensation. She trembled beneath his touch, fingers digging into the sheets. “Rafael,” she gasped. He lay a finger over her lips. He was smiling. “I am going to make your flesh sing as it has never sung before.” He planted a kiss on the inside of her thigh. “I am going to make you forget every dark and unpleasant thought in your mind. You will think only of pleasure. You will be aware only of my hands and mouth on your skin, my mind within yours.” She couldn’t speak. She could only moan, helplessly, as he pushed two thick, hot fingers into the wet silk of her pussy. She felt as if she were floating, as if the bed beneath her had vanished and she hovered in midair, anchored in place only by the pressure of his fingers within her. He lowered his head and planted a soft, almost reverent kiss on her aching clitoris. His thoughts twined intimately with hers. So beautiful, his voice whispered in her mind.

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His fingers withdrew from her again, and she cried out in protest. “Shhh.” He took off his shirt, unbuttoned his jeans, slid them down along with his boxers to reveal his cock. It was fully erect, flushed red and straining. She curled her fingers around it, and his eyes slid shut. A low moan–an animal sound, thick and primal– rumbled up from his chest. Her fingertips slid along the hard length of him, down to his balls. She cupped them in her palm, feeling their weight. He gripped her wrist, pulling it away, and positioned himself over her. His huge body lowered slowly onto hers, and she felt the smooth, blunt head of his cock against her opening. He pushed forward, into her, and the walls of her pussy stretched and engulfed the thick length of him. She clenched her jaws against the slight pain as she waited for her body to adjust to the feel of him inside her. Again, she felt him moving through her mind, dimming the pain, focusing her attention on the pleasure. Her body arched instinctively beneath his, hips pushing upward. His hands slid over her ribcage, her waist, and settled on her hips. Tendrils of dark hair clung to his sweat-damp brow. His eyes were hot and smoky with desire as he pushed into her again. His mouth clamped down on one stiff, aching nipple, sucking. As he moved within her, the pleasure built, swelled, rising to a crescendo. It was almost unbearable. Each time she felt herself approaching the brink of climax, however, he brought her back down a little, holding her at the edge. She couldn’t tell whether he was doing that with his power, or if it was all skill. A soft moan slid from her throat. Her hands slid over his broad back, over the hills and valleys of his muscles. His skin was damp with sweat and velvet smooth, a sharp contrast to the rock hard muscles beneath. His hips rocked against hers as he thrust into her again, and again, carrying her higher. “Rafael … I … I’m going to .…” Carrie cried out, fingers clenching tightly on his back. She went limp, breathless. The world seemed to spin around her. Wetness trickled from her pussy, soaking into the sheets beneath her ass as Rafael continued to thrust, until at last, he stiffened atop her. He made no sound, save a low grunt, but his head snapped back, every muscle clenching with the force of his climax. For a moment, his body went limp atop hers, warm and heavy. Then he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. His lean, hard body glistened with sweat. His dark hair clung, drenched, to his brow and neck. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes and smiled. One finger traced her lips. Carrie felt she should say something, but her mind was a blank. She could only lay, breathless and staring at him, overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. “You don’t have to speak. I can read your mind, remember?” She laughed breathlessly. “I’ve told you not to read my thoughts without permission.” “It’s easy to forget.” She sighed but it was impossible to be exasperated with him when she was filled with this drowsy bliss. She ran a hand over his hard chest. His arms encircled her, pulling her closer, and she let her eyes sink shut. She still didn’t really understand who or what he was. Maybe she would never know. But maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe this feeling was enough. As she drifted off, she felt warm breath on her ear, heard his voice whisper, “Live with me.” “What?” Carrie looked up and met his eyes. For a moment, she was sure she’d

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misheard. “You want me to live with you?” “Yes. Why not? I daresay you would find my home more comfortable than this cramped apartment. I live in Maine, in a great, old house by the sea. You’ve always wanted to live by the sea, haven’t you? To wake up to the sound of waves crashing and seagulls crying?” “Yes, but .…” “But what?” She laughed. “For one thing, we’ve only known each other a few days.” “Why wait?” His fingers combed through her hair. “Think of it. The ocean, the beach, the cool, salty smell of the air. The house is beautiful. There are great, glass windows everywhere to let in the sunlight, and you can see sea, sky and pine trees wherever you look. The sitting room has a great stone hearth. In the winter, we can sit by the fire, warm and snug, and listen to the wind howl outside the windows. In the summer, we can walk out on the beach and feel the warm sand beneath our feet. We can get a dog … or ten, if you wish. I know you love them.” “It sounds wonderful, incredible, but you’re missing the point. I can’t just pack up, quit my job .…” “If you lived with me, you wouldn’t need to work.” She grinned. “I like my work.” He shrugged. “You could get another job, if you wish. Any job you like.” “You’re still missing the point. I’m not prepared to leave my whole life behind me. And what about Elena? If I lived in Maine, I’d never get to see her.” “I could buy her a house in the same neighborhood.” “You’re serious?” “Deadly serious.” “What if she doesn’t want to move to Maine?” “Then I will arrange for a private plane to fly you here whenever you want to visit her.” “Wow. You’d really do that?” “Is that a yes?” She hesitated. “It sounds like heaven. It’s almost too good to believe. I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream. I’ve felt that way almost since I met you. But it’s all happening so fast. I need time to get my bearings. What’s the rush? We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I’m not ready to settle down in a house by the sea with ten dogs yet. I’m still getting used to being in a relationship. I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.” He sighed and trailed his fingertips over her cheek. “As you wish. I will wait for you.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “You sound almost sullen.” “You are a very difficult woman, Carrie. I offer you your dreams on a platter and you refuse.” “I’m not refusing. I’m just saying I need some time. I’m not quite ready for that kind of commitment.” She smiled and kissed his jaw. “Aren’t men supposed to be the commitment-phobes?” “I don’t have much time with you. I want to make the most of it.” “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

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He just looked at her, his expression solemn … and suddenly, she understood. Her eyes widened. In another fifty or sixty years, Carrie would die, but Rafael would still be untouched, unchanged by time. He would be alone again. To him, fifty or sixty years was not much time at all. “I cannot make you immortal,” he said quietly. “I desperately wish I could. But if our time together is limited, I want to spend as much of it as I can with you by my side.” She wondered how many people he’d lost that way. No wonder he’d avoided getting close to anyone for so long. “Rafael … I … if it really means that much to you, then yes. I’ll live with you.” He shook his head. “I don’t wish to force you into something you aren’t ready for. When you are ready, and only then, I will take you to Maine, to my house by the sea.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, the softest brush of lips. “But until then, I will continue to court you.” He smiled. “After all, anticipation is half the thrill.” He kissed the spot between her breasts, just over her heart. Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as he trailed kisses over her stomach, over the soft skin of her left inner thigh, then her right. With a knowing smile and a wicked glint in his eye, he covered her body with his own. She tangled her fingers in his thick, silky hair. “You’re insatiable,” she whispered. “As are you, my dear Carrie.” He slid into her again. As he moved within her, his mouth covered hers. He devoured her lips with kisses, as if he were dying of thirst and she was pure, cool water. Afterwards, they lay side by side. Carrie rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of his skin. “I wish we had an eternity together,” she whispered. “We will make the most of the time we have.” His arms tightened around her. “Every moment.”

THE END