Water Bound (15 page)
Authors: Christine Feehan
He turned the idea over and over in his mind. She “called” water to her. She couldn’t manufacture the water—it had to be available—but she could control it. Rikki was so lost in the wonder of playing that she didn’t notice when he got up and went to the window, shoving it open so he could see the silver sheets of rain falling from the sky. The sight was breathtaking. He turned back to look at her. She was breathtaking—extraordinary. She was such a rare phenomenon that he could barely believe he’d discovered her.
A gust of wind drove the rain into the house and dotted his chest, shoulder and arm. He knew he’d felt rain a thousand times, yet it felt like the first time. The wonder Rikki experienced when she touched water spilled over to him through their strange connection. The raindrops were sensual against his skin, velvet tongues lapping at him. The liquid was cool, his body hot. He could feel each individual drop.
More than the sensation
on
his skin was the way the liquid felt as if it seeped deeper. There was first a tingling along nerve endings, and then a rush, like a dam opening inside of him. He went very still and allowed the phenomenon to engulf him, to spread like a tidal wave inside of him. He felt renewed, happy, clean and balanced.
on
his skin was the way the liquid felt as if it seeped deeper. There was first a tingling along nerve endings, and then a rush, like a dam opening inside of him. He went very still and allowed the phenomenon to engulf him, to spread like a tidal wave inside of him. He felt renewed, happy, clean and balanced.
Lev turned back to the bed, leaving the window open. He loved the sound of the rain and knew he’d always associate the sound with Rikki. Her face showed signs of exhaustion. She’d worked hard beneath the water, hauled him out of the sea, given him CPR and been up most of the night. Even playing as she was, manipulating water took tremendous energy. He knew she hadn’t eaten anything since she’d brought him to the farm. It was no wonder she was so thin.
He stretched out again, shaping his body around hers, careful not to touch her or disturb her, but he sent a “push” to get her to sleep. He used a very delicate, gentle touch, one designed to allow her to drift off slowly, unknowing. While he waited for his suggestion to work, he contemplated the tragedies in her life.
If someone had deliberately set those fires—and it was too much of a coincidence to think it wasn’t intentional—was her ability to control water the reason? Had someone realized Rikki was an element with tremendous power, even when she was just a child? She hadn’t said how old she was when the first fire had occurred, but she’d been in two foster homes and then was in a state-run facility. Someone had killed her fiance using fire, the opposite of water. Who wanted her dead? He was convinced someone did. And if so, why the long gaps between the attacks, and why fire?
Her hands dropped to her side and her lashes fluttered. He smiled down at her. “You’ve come back to me.”
She looked around her. “You’re still here.”
Her voice was drowsy, her eyes slumberous. She’d definitely crawled inside of him and wrapped herself tightly around whatever was left of his soul. He wanted to look at her all night—the rest of his life, for that matter. He found peace in her.
“Yeah. I’m here. I don’t think I’m going anywhere soon.” If ever.
He
should go
. Whatever he was, he was violent and deadly, and definitely trouble for her, but . . . He looked around the room. She had a bed, a dresser and a night-stand. The bare minimum. It was that way in every room.
should go
. Whatever he was, he was violent and deadly, and definitely trouble for her, but . . . He looked around the room. She had a bed, a dresser and a night-stand. The bare minimum. It was that way in every room.
“How long have you lived here?”
She thought about it. “We closed the deal on the farm just before Lexi’s nineteenth birthday and she just turned twenty-three, so just about five years. The orchards were already in, and part of the main vegetable gardens. The houses were on the property, but they were all in bad shape. We remodeled ourselves and extended the garden. Last year we put in two greenhouses, a fairly large one for vegetables and one much smaller for flowers. The farm has really done well and produced for us.”
It was the most forthcoming she’d been about her life, and he heard the pride in her voice. She loved the farm.
“Who did the work on the houses?”
“We did. All of us. We started with Lexi’s house. She needed to feel safe. It was important that she had a home, a place that was hers. Judith, she’s our artist, is amazing with a hammer. Between Judith, Lissa and Airiana, we were able to do just about everything ourselves. And Judith helped each of us decorate.”
He looked around Rikki’s house. His first thought was that not much decorating had taken place, but then he realized he was wrong. Judith, whoever she was, knew Rikki’s need for simplicity. The walls were done in cool water tones, producing a soothing atmosphere for her. And her bathroom had been a work of art. The few pictures in the house were watercolors, depicting rain over grass or rain in the trees. Judith “saw” Rikki and designed the interior to suit her needs. He had no doubt she would see right through him and made up his mind to avoid her.
“How did you all meet?”
Rikki’s fingers continued to tap a beat along her thigh. He could hear the rain respond through the open window, drumming at the roof, following the beat of her fingers.
“We met through grief counseling. It was sort of my last-ditch effort to save myself. I was fairly certain I was a sociopath or something, at least in my sleep. I didn’t really want to keep living. But then I heard Lexi’s story, and Judith’s, as well as the others’, and they didn’t make me feel so alone. They believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.”
He was silent, digesting what she told him. “Rikki. Is that why you took me in? I’m not like you, honey. You didn’t start those fires. I’ve killed men. I see the images in my head. I don’t know why, but I’m not the nice man you’ve got in your head.”
“I don’t think you’re a nice man,” she protested.
Her vehemence made him smile all over again. “Good. I don’t want you to be disappointed when we find out who I am.”
“You really don’t know?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Rikki,” he cautioned. “I’m glad I don’t know. Spending time with you has been cleansing. I feel free. I know that probably sounds crazy, but I don’t want to look at who I was, not with the things I’m seeing. How could I have ten names? I don’t know what’s real and what’s made up. But I do know that every memory contains violence. Staying right here with you, lying here listening to the rain with you, I feel at peace. I shouldn’t but I do, and I’m going to enjoy it while I have the chance. Who knows? Tomorrow a cop or someone wanting me dead might show up at your door.”
“They won’t, you know,” she offered, turning her body slightly toward his.
She should have turned away from him. If she had any sense, his honesty should have shaken her, but Rikki didn’t react like most people. Her eyes were steady on his.
“If anyone is looking for you, Lev, they’ll think you died in the ocean. Everyone was gone yesterday morning. The harbor was deserted when I went out. Only Ralph was there when I came back. Ralph noticed you, but he never saw your face.”
At the mention of Ralph noticing him, Lev’s mind kicked into overdrive, rapidly calculating the benefits of finding Ralph and disposing of him before he could reveal Rikki hadn’t been alone. It was an automatic reaction more than a conscious one, and that told him a lot about himself. Killing was a way of life. Killing was an option for removing obstacles in his path. What kind of man thought that way? Rikki had thought of herself as a sociopath because she didn’t know whether or not she started fires, but she played in the rain, made water dance and composed symphonies with it. He contemplated killing.
To avoid her eyes, he covered his own with his arm. She saw into him and the last thing he wanted was for her to see him as he really was.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Go to sleep, Rikki. I’ll know if someone tries to come near the house.”
Her fingers brushed his mouth. He felt the jolt of her touch like a lightning bolt slamming through his body. There was no gentle stirring of his body. His hard-on was immediate and painful, an aching need that encompassed body and mind. He let himself enjoy the sensation. He’d thought he was incapable of a natural erection, one not planned out, one where he hadn’t set up the seduction and controlled every aspect of the scene. Rikki made him feel alive. Real. A human being.
“First tell me what’s wrong.”
“Damn it, can’t you just go to sleep? I don’t want to tell you.”
“I don’t want you in my bed or my house. I don’t want you near my boat. That didn’t stop it from happening.”
“What do you want me to say? That the moment you told me Ralph saw me, I thought about killing him?” He pulled his arm away so his gaze could lock with hers—so he could see her reaction, the revulsion, the horror. He waited for her to order him to go.
Her eyes softened, and God help him, she was looking at him with compassion. “Lev, you believe someone is trying to kill you. You didn’t rush off to actually do anything to Ralph.” She smiled at him, her eyes as soft and as liquid as ever. “I thought about killing you numerous times, but I didn’t. The jury’s still out on whether I will or not.”
There was a slight teasing edge to her tone. Her voice and the pad of her finger rubbing back and forth over his lips in an effort to erase his frown didn’t do much for his peace of mind or his heavy erection. She put a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball, and he felt like he might be choking. He couldn’t find a way to believe in himself, yet she did—this strange woman who had pulled him out of the sea.
“Do me a favor, honey,” he said softly. “Go to sleep and let me watch over you with the rain. You’ve done so much for me, let me do this for you.”
She studied his face for a long time before she nodded and turned on her side, facing away from him. When she’d removed her finger, he found he could breathe again, but his body didn’t relax until long after her breathing became even. He waited even longer, until he was positive she was in a deep enough sleep, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and laid his head near her shoulder so he could breathe her in along with the scent of the rain.
6
RIKKI took her responsibilities seriously and Lev was a huge responsibility. He wasn’t like owning a cat or a goldfish. She actually had to take care of him. She spent a great deal of her time muttering to herself over the next week and a half. He was unable to get up for more than fifteen minutes at a time. His headaches were horrendous and he’d discovered more aches from his battering against the rocks.
She resumed her normal routine, circling the house morning and night looking for signs of an intruder. She used every can of broth and soup Blythe had bought for her to feed the man. The first few days he ate little and slept most of the time. She worried that she needed to take him to a hospital, but each time she brought the subject up, he was adamantly against it, assuring her he would be fine.
There was one day of beautiful weather, and she thought about going to work but instead spent the day glaring at him. He seemed oblivious. Two days of high surf made it easier to bear, but by the twelfth day she couldn’t stop pacing. She felt restless and out of sorts. She decided she had to leave him long enough to sit on the bluffs for a while and just breathe. At least Lev didn’t want to talk. He often woke up with a gun in his hand and his eyes cold as ice as he tracked around the room. She was careful never to startle him.
He didn’t seem to mind her helping him to the bathroom, and she gave him a massage twice a day. He rarely talked even then and she could tell noise hurt. She didn’t mind silence, because noises often hurt her head as well. She knew she would have to find a way to get him clothes—that meant going into a store—and she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet. She just wanted to get him on his feet and out of her house.
She hadn’t slept very well after that first night. Mostly she stayed in the hammock swing off the kitchen, or, if it was too cold, on her couch. She often paced, worried that Lev wouldn’t wake up and then afraid that he would. She was so used to being alone that she was very aware of his breathing, the way he took up her air and her space. She kept the blinds down in her house, and each of her sisters called twice but they didn’t ask questions.
The huge news was that a yacht had sunk off the coast in a freak accident. The yacht was owned by a Greek businessman, a billionaire, and everyone on board was lost. Naturally Rikki’s sisters didn’t want her going out into the ocean until it was pronounced safe, which made her want to laugh. How could going out to sea ever be considered safe?
She knew they assumed she wasn’t working because of the yacht sinking. She didn’t consider it lying that she didn’t give them facts they didn’t ask about. But she couldn’t breathe anymore, and she had to get out of the house and go where she could see the ocean and just absorb it. That meant leaving Lev alone and unprotected. Her main worry was always fire.
She sat on the edge of the bed and pushed back his hair. The shadow on his jaw had grown into the beginnings of a real beard. “I have to leave for a little while.” She knew he was awake. She’d never go near him while he was asleep, but his eyes were closed.
He didn’t open them, but he caught her wrist, his fingers a shackle, preventing movement. It amazed her how he could do that, know exactly where her arm was when he had his eyes closed. And she always watched his face, not even blinking. He never so much as peeked, yet he never missed.
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