Hidden Currents (24 page)

“This smells like my favorite conditioner.”

He held the bottle in front of her face for a brief moment before returning to his task. “It is yours. Sarah put a box of things in my truck before we left to go get you. Tea. A few clothes. Your personal things. I found them when I went to get the blanket.”

Elle let her breath out. “She knew. She has precog. She knew I wouldn’t stay with them. Why would she argue so much?”

“She didn’t expect to see you covered in wounds, black and blue, your face swollen. You’re her baby sister, Elle. Of course she wanted to take care of you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt her—hurt all of them.” She took a deep breath and blurted out the truth. “I’m afraid without you, Jackson.”

“I know you are, baby. Don’t you remember what it was like those first few days when I escaped the camp and was waiting for retrieval? You stayed in my mind and my heart beat so hard you were afraid I’d have a heart attack. I didn’t want you leaving me, not for a moment, because you represented home and freedom and, above all else, safety to me.” He skimmed his mouth down the side of her face. “Tell me you remember staying awake seventy-two hours because I was afraid to close my eyes. And when I finally did, the nightmares ate us both alive.” His body shuddered against hers and his arms went around her waist, pulling her even closer, burying his face against her neck. “I’m still afraid without you, Elle.”

She turned to face him, her bare skin sliding over his, her arms circling his neck as she pressed against him, giving herself to him, holding him, aching inside for both of them.

Something banged against the bathroom door and she jumped. Simultaneously, Jackson shoved her behind him.

“Tea’s ready. Do you need help?” Ilya’s voice called.

“You want to scrub my back?” Jackson asked.

“I think that was the American version of sarcasm,” Ilya responded. “If you’re feeling better, I’ve got five women out here. I could use a little help.”

“Hannah?” Elle asked, turning her head up to the water so it washed the conditioner from her head.

“Jonas took her to the hospital just to make certain she’s all right. Come get your tea.”

“Give us a couple of minutes,” Jackson said, helping to massage the conditioner from the thick mass of red hair. He reached past Elle and turned off the water.

She put a hand on his belly and he felt the jolt slam right through his muscle and bones. His hand trapped hers—inches from his groin, now full and heavy and pulsing with need. He cleared his throat. “What is it, baby?” He tried to sound normal, but his voice came out gravelly.

“I heard his voice, Jackson. I need you to believe me. Yes, I panicked when you pulled out of my head so fast and I could feel you being swept out to sea. My throat closed and I could feel his fingers tightening around my neck, closing off my windpipe, but I know it wasn’t just a panic attack. Maybe he programmed me, I honestly can’t tell you, but I heard his voice, very distinctly. He told me he would keep killing everyone I loved until I came back to him.” She looked up at him, her green gaze begging him to believe her. “I’m not crazy.”

His large hands framed her face and he looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t think for one moment that you are, Elle.” His tone was one of absolute decisiveness. “He can’t have you.” It was a decree—a promise—his word. His head lowered toward hers.

Again he took his time giving her every chance to pull away, but she didn’t, watching him come closer and closer until she could see his long lashes, the straight nose and wickedly sexy lips, parting just enough to catch a glimpse of strong teeth. She took a breath and closed her eyes just as his lips touched hers, brushed back and forth in a soft, coaxing manner. She went still inside. A thousand butterflies took flight in her stomach. Her toes curled. The sensation of his lips against hers set off an electrical current that started with a small sizzle and built like a fireball rushing through her veins.

His hands held her face and she pressed her body close, skin to skin, melting into him, crawling inside his head, closer than two people could ever be. His mouth moved and hers answered. Deep inside, where her soul resided, she felt him there, holding her, sheltering her. She lifted her head. “He knows I love you.” She touched his face, her fingers trembling. “He knows, Jackson. He can’t get in when I’m filled with you and it’s making him angrier. He’s never denied himself anything and he believes he owns me.”

“Well he’s wrong, Elle. No one owns you.”

Jackson bent his head and his mouth touched a long slash that curled over her breast. Her breath slammed out of her lungs and she went utterly still. She felt the gentle brush of his lips, featherlight across the torn flesh. He followed the line of whip marks with his kisses, so soft they were barely there, yet each set off a seismic reaction inside of her. Her body, so numb inside, nearly dead, no longer feminine or hot or needy, felt each of those kisses in her deepest core.

She closed her eyes tightly and held on to him as he kissed every wound, even dropping to his knees to plant kisses along the stripes inside her thighs and over her abdomen, deeper even where two or three times the whip had slashed through her most private, most sensitive spot. Again, she didn’t feel as if his actions were in any way sexual, yet he was waking her body with love.

The intensity of his feelings shook her. How could she not have known how he felt about her? She kept her hands on his shoulders to steady her, fingers digging tightly into his muscle for an anchor. She hadn’t expected the pooling of heat, or the wild beating of her heart. She hadn’t expected the sizzle and burn of joy rushing through her veins, heating her body and making her breasts ache and her groin weep. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be alive.

Jackson stood up and brought both of her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before reaching for a towel and wrapping her in it. He took his time with her hair, tow eling the moisture from the long strands.

“Get dressed, Elle. Something that will cover most of the lash marks so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll dress and find a good brush to start on your hair while you visit with your sisters. And don’t worry, I think we’re growing together in strength and no one will be able to penetrate the shields in your mind.”

She stood there a moment, just looking at him. Jackson Deveau. The badass from the bayou everyone was so afraid of.
Her
Jackson. The man who was slowly, carefully, bringing her back to life.

Jackson smiled at her and caught her chin, kissing her again, making her stomach do a funny little flip. “Go, honey. I’ll catch up with you.”

Elle nodded, uncertain how to voice the emotions welling up.

10

ELLE found her sisters sprawled out around the spacious living room. They smiled at her wanly, Libby still pale and weak, but the others were clearly stronger. Ilya looked a bit harassed and she felt a little sorry for him. Her family could be very overwhelming at times. Bomber remained by the bank of windows staring out to sea, his ears forward, his body still, eyes focused on the unusual fog surrounding the house.

Sarah beckoned to her to come join them. “You scared us, honey. You nearly burned out your talent completely, but thank you for saving Hannah and Jackson.”

“You all helped,” Elle pointed out. “I’m not certain I could have helped Jonas pinpoint their location without you. And thank you. I appreciate you coming over and working so hard to heal me.”

“Of course we’d come,” Sarah said. “In spite of everything, you do look better this morning. I can see Jackson is taking good care of you.”

Elle blushed, her color creeping up her neck into her face. She didn’t know why. Jackson had been more than a gentleman. She realized that her fingertips had gone to her tingling lips and she hastily pulled them down under her older sisters’ watchful eyes. She tasted Jackson in her mouth and it hit her then, he had miraculously managed to replace the touch and taste of Stavros with something good, something exciting. He didn’t demand anything in return. He didn’t even ask for anything.
Jackson.

A stabbing pain shot through her head and he stuck his head through the doorway, black eyes half concerned, half furious. “Knock it off, Elle,” he snapped, his tone low and mean.

Her sisters all swiveled around to stare at him. Tension rose in the room. They had no idea. Elle burst out laughing. He really was big bad Jackson, but hidden underneath all that steel muscle and the cold black eyes was something altogether different that no one, not even her sisters, suspected. He hid the gentle giant very well beneath that blue-jeaned devil.

“I didn’t mean to.”

He gave her another glare and disappeared again.

“Same old Jackson. I see his social skills haven’t improved much,” Sarah said. She waved her hand toward the teapot and it floated across the room and poured another cup of tea into the mug she was holding. “The man really needs to join the twenty-first century. I thought he might have improved while you’re so fragile.”

“Jackson is careful with me.”

“Yeah, that sounded like it.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

Elle looked around the room at her sisters, all obviously in agreement with her older sister’s opinion of Jackson. She could have defended him, but it seemed more important to guard him, to hug his secret side to herself. She simply shrugged her shoulders. “Has Jonas called about Hannah?”

“The baby is fine, and Hannah is much better. Jonas said she warmed up fast in the ambulance. Both of them are very grateful to you and Jackson,” Sarah continued. She waved the teapot in Elle’s direction.

Elle pointed to a mug sitting on the coffee table. Sarah waved her hand again. She’d already forgotten Elle wasn’t allowed to use her psychic talents. “Thanks, Sarah.” It was embarrassing not to be able to use her skills. She rubbed at her throbbing temples. She’d had a headache for so long she’d forgotten what it was like without one. Jackson never forgot that her brain was shredded and every time she used her talent, she was at risk.

“We’re all very grateful to Jackson. He did an amazing thing.”

Elle lifted an eyebrow. “So you’re saying he’s a cretin, but a heroic one.”

Sarah nodded. “Very heroic.”

Jackson stepped into the room looking sexy with a black tee stretched tight across his broad shoulders and heavy chest. His jeans fit him like a glove and now that she knew what he was hiding there, she couldn’t help but notice the front of his jeans. “Elle saved us both,” he corrected, pouring tea the old-fashioned way. He wasn’t adept at levitation or parlor tricks. He just needed something hot to chase away the last of the cold lingering inside him.

He stirred in honey and drank the first cup down before pouring a second and moving to Elle’s side. He sat on the floor between Elle’s legs, half turning so he could take her bare foot onto his lap. “She shouldn’t have, she was risking too much, but she kept us warm until help arrived. Thanks for giving her the push at the end. It saved us.” He sipped the tea and brought Elle’s foot against his belly.

It felt intimate to have him hold her bare foot. Elle could see that Ilya had started a fire to help heat the room and give more of an illusion of warmth. The crackle and popping along with the flickering flames added to the coziness of Jackson’s living room. She glanced up the walls and could have sworn that for one moment they undulated, as if alive, as the walls of the Drake home sometimes did when ancestors settled into the walls to help make it a fortress.

Brace yourself, baby.
It was all the warning he was going to give her. Her sisters were looking her over, trying to see inside her, trying to look past the bruising on her face and the few raw wounds they could see to what they couldn’t see. He was going to confirm some of their worst suspicions.

“Elle is afraid she might be pregnant.”

Sarah lowered her teacup and looked at her youngest sister with a small frown. Ilya shook his head even as he laced his fingers with Joley’s. If it was possible for Libby to lose any more color, she did. Abigail and Kate exchanged a long look.

Elle tried to pull her foot away, ducking her head and allowing the mass of tangles to tumble down around her face, hiding her.

We need to know what to do to take care of you.
Jackson was unrepentant.

“My understanding is that the seventh child can share the legacy but only with the right partner,” Ilya said. “And with that partner, birth control doesn’t work. With anyone else, pregnancy is very difficult.”

Elle gasped and sat up straighter, looking at Sarah. “Can that be true?”

Sarah nodded. “It’s recorded in the diaries.”

“Mom is a snake,” Elle hissed. “A total snake.”

“She probably didn’t know. In those days,” Sarah explained, “women rarely slept with a man before marriage. It probably didn’t come up.”

Jackson tugged at her foot. “Trade places with me so I can work on your hair.”
It might be easier for you with your sisters here.

Her heart began to pound again. She hesitated and then slid from the chair to give it to him. Jackson settled her between his thighs, another intimate position she hadn’t considered.

“I could examine you,” Libby offered. “You should be treated, Elle.”

“Not until I’m stronger. My head is so messed up, Libby, that I’m afraid I can’t protect you. I’m not willing to risk you.”

“It’s my risk.”

Elle shook her head. “You’ve helped me just with what you did.”

Jackson began the slow process of dividing the mass of long hair into strips. His hands were astonishingly gentle as he began to slowly pick the tangles from the ends of the thick strands and work his way patiently up toward her scalp.

“So you really don’t think Elle is pregnant?” He kept his voice matter-of-fact.

“I’d be shocked,” Sarah answered. “Do you feel pregnant, Elle?”

Elle shrugged. “I have no idea what it feels like.”

“Sick,” Joley said and glared at Ilya. “Sick to your stomach.”

“Not everyone gets sick,” Libby pointed out. “I’ll get you a pregnancy test.”