Beyond the Darkness (18 page)

She could hear him talking out in the bedroom.

“Cheveyo?” she said. “Do you have extra razors and shaving cream?”

He cracked the door open. “Yeah. Want me to get them for you?”

“That would be great.”

He walked in and opened one of the cabinets. Wearing cotton pants with a drawstring and nothing else, she could see the color of his skin through the thin material.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, then added, “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

He gave her a curious half smile. “Pope. I wanted to thank him for healing me. He said he put the bike in the outbuilding. Whether she works or not, we’ll have to see.”

He set the items on the shelf, and she propped her foot on the edge and reached for the can of shaving cream. Then he did something that surprised her. He sat on the edge of the tub, taking hold of her foot. “Can I do it?”

“You want to . . . shave my legs?”

He grinned. “I think it’d be interesting.”

“I’ve never let a man shave my legs before. I’ve never had a man
ask
to shave my legs. But if you want to, just excuse my stubble.”

He set her foot on his thighs, soaking the fabric. He studied it, as though he were gazing at a piece of art. And not ugly art.

“I hate my feet,” she felt compelled to say, as though in apology.

“Why? They’re beautiful.” He ran his finger along her arch, tickling her.

“My toes are too spread apart, and too long.”

“They’re perfect. God doesn’t make ugly, you know.”

“Well, some parts of our bodies aren’t exactly . . . pretty. The puzzle pieces.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Puzzle pieces?”

She laughed. “That’s how my dad described our sexual parts when I first asked how babies were made. Two pieces that fit together.”

“Mother nature honors our . . . puzzle pieces. Our sexuality. Think about a half of a peach or pecan. Or some flowers. They resemble the flower of a woman.”

“I do remember looking at an orchid once and thinking it looked like a woman’s privates. But I haven’t seen many penis-shaped flowers.”

“There’s a type of fungus that grows out of the ground and looks very phallic. And avocadoes resemble testicles. They grow in pairs, one lower than the other. We got their name from the Aztec word for testicle.”

“
Mmmm.
Makes me think about, well, our parts differently.” Unfortunately, it also got her thinking about
their
parts. His part and the way it felt smooth and hard in her hand.

His gaze was heated, too.

She cleared her throat. “Let’s not talk about—”

“No, good idea.”

He ran his fingers lightly along her leg, perhaps studying the contours, hopefully not the stubble. Then he squirted out shaving lotion and rubbed it down her leg in the same thoughtful way. She wasn’t sure how to read him, his current mood in particular. Gone was the catlike edge or even the hunter. Here was not even the man who’d held her after saving her life.

He ran the razor across the top of her shin, focusing all of his attention on his movements. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor after each run. He was even more careful around her knee, especially where she’d cut herself last time. With each stroke, in that quiet stillness of the room, his tender care made parts of her crumble away. He looked up only after he’d rinsed her leg with his hands, a signal to change legs.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

She swiped at her eyes and realized she was.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, you’re perfect. I mean, you’re doing perfect. It’s just . . .”

He faced her now, waiting patiently for her to spill her heart.

“You shaving my legs is the most tender, beautiful thing a man has ever done for me. It’s silly.”

He leaned closer and wiped her tears with his thumb. “You’re the princess. You are to be adored.”

She sucked in a breath at that, because he’d put into words her deepest longing: to be adored. Cherished.

He touched her face as she’d done to him not long before. “I’m sorry I can’t be that person.” His thumb stroked her cheek, slow motions. “But right now, I can adore you.”

She nodded, pushing back all the pain and regret at that, seeing it in his eyes. If she breathed, her tears would gush.

He dipped his hand into the water, bringing up her other foot. As he lovingly shaved that leg, she thought she knew what he was doing: living out a moment of a normal life, a normal relationship—with her. A life he could never have, and she saw that ache he’d spoken of before. The ache she once felt over not being able to have Lucas was nothing compared to how she felt now. Because Lucas had never been hers. Cheveyo was hers, in her heart, her soul. She had been oblivious while he checked on her, but when she first met him, she’d
known
him. Felt him. Loved him.

He rinsed her leg, then grabbed a towel and handed it to her. He held out his hand, and she let him pull her to her feet, the towel a shield and barrier between them. She wrapped it around her. This was when he should sweep her into his arms and carry her to bed. She stepped over the rim, and he leaned down to unstop the tub.

“There’s a robe on the hook there. You can use that, and I’ll bring up your bag. I remember seeing Pope carry it in.”

He closed the door behind him, and she sagged down to the side of the tub, her hand to her chest. Now she understood why he’d stayed away from her. Not only to protect her from the danger that surrounded him, but to protect both of them from this. He knocked a minute later and handed her the bag.

He wasn’t asleep when she finally left the bathroom, but he was lying on the bed. He’d changed into a dry pair of cotton pants, and she paused at the sight of him, his hair loose and tousled, expression somber. He’d left on a light for her, a child’s lamp with a smiling bear.

She walked over to the chest of drawers it sat on. “Is it okay if I leave this light on?”

“I usually do.”

To keep the shadows at bay? To see in the dark lest an enemy invade? So he’d know where he was, sleeping in the Tank so often?

She wore pajamas, silky blue ones with long lacy sleeves. She climbed onto the bed, and he pulled her against him. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and she ran her finger down that scar.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow we get up early and hunt.”

She thought that his gift of being able to slip so quickly into a deep sleep let his mind recharge faster than most. Her hand, lying on his bare chest, tingled. As soon as he reached the deepest sleep, she felt that ache again, his loneliness.

She had seen his soul when she’d connected with him. She wanted to see more of it, to know it as he knew hers. She closed her eyes and imagined walking into that darkness and pain.

The barrage of images hit her, the boy facing a terrifying creature who slashed at him with its claws, tearing that scar into his chest. Riding on his bike toward a sunset, his isolation a counterpoint to the beauty of the sky.

Then more horrifying scenes pounded at her. A woman’s body on the floor, her throat slashed. A boy cowering between a dresser and the wall. When she thought it was Cheveyo, a creature tore the boy from his hiding place. The boy’s screams cut right through her, but the creature’s fangs silenced him, slicing through his throat. The boy fell limp in a pool of blood. Rage and grief swamped her, and then darkness.

In that darkness, a voice boomed, “What are you doing in there?”

She jerked out of the trance.

Cheveyo sat up, his eyes wide. They narrowed as he came fully awake. “You were inside me, weren’t you?”

She sat up, too, still vibrating with the horror of what she’d seen. “I saw things, terrible things. I saw the boy who was killed, a boy who looked like you.”

He sat up, planting his elbows on his bent knees. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I feel such sadness coming from you. The only time I can get to know who you are is when you sleep.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He was closed to her now, his eyes shuttered.

“You know my soul. It’s only fair that I know yours.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t really argue with that, or at least he shouldn’t. Finally he said, “You don’t belong in the darkness of my soul. You’ll get lost in the shadows.”

She touched his arm. “Maybe I can pull you out of them.”

“That would be impossible.” He stared at nothing, his expression haunted.

“The boy . . . he was your son, wasn’t he?”

His voice was soft when he said, “Cody.”

The thought spun her. He had a son. “I’m so sorry.” That seemed terribly inadequate. She looked at the bear lamp, seeing it with new meaning.

He remained closed, shielded. “Go to sleep, Petra.”

“The thing that killed him, it was a Glouk, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, his gaze blank and aimed past her.

“You were . . . married?”

“I was eighteen when I met Darcy. She said she was on birth control, but she wasn’t. She got pregnant. I couldn’t marry her because I could have no legal connection to her, to anyone. Nothing that would put her and the baby in harm’s way. I didn’t love her, but I planned to provide for them from a safe distance. Then the baby came, and I fell in love with him.”

“How can you not fall in love with your child? Not even you can be that strong.”

“No, but I was young and stupid enough to think I could have a normal life
and
fight demons. My father warned me, but I’d been raised to believe I was the unconquerable warrior. I never contacted them or went near our house when I was engaged with an enemy. I thought that would keep them safe.” He laughed in a humorless way. “Darcy assumed I worked for the government or the police, and I let her believe it. I’d come back bruised, cut, and couldn’t tell her a thing about it.”

He went silent, and she gave him the time to process his thoughts. But not too much time. “And what happened?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“I don’t know how the Glouk found out about them. It baffles me, even now. My father was the one who warned me there was trouble at home, since my visions don’t work when it concerns my future. I raced home and found the Glouk there. Darcy was already dead. But Cody . . .” He took a deep breath.

“It’s okay. I saw it.”

“He was frozen, poor kid. I’d never worked with him. I didn’t want him training to fight boogeymen, living his childhood in war mode like I did. I fought the Glouk for hours, but he was too damned powerful. I was exhausted, but he never tired. He threw me against the wall so hard, I heard bones crack in my body.”

She winced, tightening her hold on his arm. “And you couldn’t help Cody.”

He shook his head, his expression a mask of grief. “I had to watch, unable to move. Even worse, I passed out, left him there to die alone.” Self-incrimination saturated his voice. “When I woke, a whole day had passed. Everything was gone. Even their bodies. No blood, nothing. My injuries were healed, too. My father told me he’d pulled in other resources to heal me and clean the evidence. Having the police investigate would not be good. Darcy had been estranged from her family for years. I suspected that was why she’d wanted to trap me, so I could take care of her. She loved our son, though, and stayed home with him. There was no one to miss them.”

She leaned forward and put her arms around him. He let her for exactly two seconds before moving away. The shadows in the room made his face look darker and more haunted.

She said, “I’m sorry I intruded into that very personal, painful place. Maybe it’ll help to share it with someone.”

“Sharing pain helps no one. It just makes two people sad.”

Now she understood his steadfast refusal to allow anyone into his life, his heart. He blamed himself for his son’s death. “It wasn’t your fault that they died.”

“Yes, it was. Somehow I led the Glouk to them.”

She knew he wouldn’t believe anything else. “Was that your voice booming at me?”

“That was my father. He sensed you inside me. It’s what woke me up.”

“That was Wayne Kee?” She rubbed her arms. “He’s scary.”

“He can be. Don’t go poking into my psyche again. I won’t poke into yours anymore either.”

The truth was, now that she knew him better, she didn’t mind so much. “What did you feel when you came into me?”

He stretched out flat on the bed again, but he was still looking at her. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded. “Is it that bad?”

“No, but it’s not always easy to see the shadows of your soul.”

“Tell me.” She had shadows?

“I felt your insecurity and how you cling to your outer beauty because that’s all you think you have. You feel betrayed, but you’re unwilling to acknowledge those feelings because they’re ugly, so you tell yourself no one has hurt you.”

She held up her hand. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“The only way to see the shadows is to aim the light at them. When you do, they go away.”