Pleasure. Jacquelyn Frank

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      “The hot water gets too hot, so be careful so you don’t get…” She stopped and looked down at his hands. With a frown that creased her entire face in empathy, she reached to take up his hand in her gentle, strong fingers. “I’m so sorry about this,” she said as she carefully inspected the raw redness and blisters. “There’s burn cream in the medicine cabinet. Please use some. I’m sorry but I only have my soap and shampoo and they are…well, very girlie. Flowers and herbals, you know?”

      “I’m sure it will be fine. Valera, you are being very generous to me and I am very grateful to you for it. As soon as I am well and can travel, I won’t have to abuse your hospitality any longer. Considering the danger that came with me—”

      Sagan broke off suddenly as a dreadful thought raced into his mind. What if danger still followed him? Damn it, if he could only remember what had happened! Staying with this woman could potentially be putting her at risk. He had to leave as soon as…

      But what if trouble tracked him to here? He would be gone and she would be left alone to defend herself against supernatural beings she had no hope of understanding or protecting herself against. Obviously she had accidentally exposed those other two to light, luck being with her and saving her from who knew what, but others to come after them might not be so careless.

      But why? he asked of his stubbornly blank brain. Who would dare to kidnap a penance priest? Had they meant to kill him, they would have done so already. But why would they abduct him? For what purpose?

      Valera released a small gasp, and Sagan realized the severity of his thoughts had led him to grip her by her hand perhaps a bit too tightly. He instantly let go of her and she briskly rubbed her freed palm against her jeans over her thigh.

      “I’ll let you shower,” she said, backing out of the bathroom. She awkwardly bumped her shoulder into the frame of the door, laughing nervously. “I’ll cook some breakfast. You like eggs?”

      “Don’t go to any trouble,” he argued.

      “No trouble.” She smiled, the expression turning her features into an enchanting blend of warmth and shyness as she dropped her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear in a sweetly ingenuous gesture. “I like to cook.”

      Sagan watched her go, unable to keep himself from appreciating the snug fit of her well-worn jeans. Catching himself doing it, he growled at himself in frustration for his lack of discipline. He was well known for his unrelenting discipline. Anything less was unacceptable to him. He put the lapse down to the trauma his body had been through and went about stripping himself down and mentally rectifying the problem.

      Chapter Three

      Valera tried to focus completely on her cooking. This was no easy task, considering she’d just swept up two piles of dead people. She realized now what had happened and that it had very much been an accident. After all, how was she supposed to know they were a species hypersensitive to light? In retrospect it made sense now, how they had turned everything off. She had to satisfy herself with knowing that Sagan was safe and free. Of course, for all she knew Sagan could be some kind of monster or prisoner they’d been transporting…

      No. The behavior and vibes she’d read had been very clear. Morrigan and Davide had been the source of evil and Sagan was entirely different.

      Very different.

      Despite his wariness and his marked caution in answering her questions, he was honest and surprisingly steady for a man who had been through such an ordeal. It forced her to wonder what he’d gotten wrapped up in that he’d been so cruelly abducted and neglected. Poisoned and then given the antidote? Even as her spell had healed him, she had felt the hard and deadly damage that vicious poison had done. Someone had meant to kill him and then changed their mind right at the very brink. Who would kill a priest?

      Wait.

      None of this was her problem. Her only issue was to tend to her guest until she could send him on his way and bring her life back to normal. She didn’t care about any of this other stuff.

      Except when he had held on to her hand so tightly in the bathroom. She had felt a flash of powerful energy racing up her arm and then diffusing throughout her body until she was completely and thoroughly warmed by it. And considering the places on her body that had felt quite a bit warmer than others in the aftermath of that rush, it was no wonder she found herself conflicted. She’d never encountered a sensation equal to that ever before. It had made her feel exposed—almost as if she’d stripped herself completely naked in front of him.

      The man was an utter stranger, she reminded herself as she left her muffins to bake and went to pull out her stepladder from its hiding place. She went slowly throughout the house and unscrewed each and every lightbulb, leaving them carefully secured next to the lamps they had come from. The darkness seemed to trigger in her the inherent habit to flip a switch. She’d done it again when she’d entered the kitchen to cook. She could see just fine in the darkness, but she knew she would forget and the impulse would get her again and again. She didn’t want to see him hurt again, the sight of the burns she had caused making her chest tighten with a lump of guilt at its core.

      She did the kitchen last, setting up the stepladder beneath the rows of recessed lighting that ran above every countertop and the central island. This was when Ulysses strolled lazily into the kitchen, yawning and stretching as he came to sit at the foot of the ladder. However, he seemed more interested in eyeing the forbidden countertop than he did requiring her attention.

      “Don’t even think about it, Ulysses,” she warned as she unscrewed the current bulb just enough to remove the contact that made it work, but left it hanging in its socket.

      I smell food, Ulysses pointed out.

      “Look, you just have to wait a little for breakfast, okay? This has been a really crazy morning.”

      I noticed. You know I don’t like men, the beautiful black cat sighed. They are loud and aggressive. This one is very big. Not even human…which makes it worse, I suppose. He has more beast within him than any human would.

      “Well, maybe the fact that he isn’t human is a point in his favor, hmm? And since you are so astute, why don’t you tell me what he is, exactly?”

      A Nightwalker. One of the Dark Cultures.

      A Nightwalker.

      “Oh God…” she whispered.

      Better not let him find out what you are, Ulysses warned sagely.

      Mortal enemies. Nightwalkers and human magic-users. Demons, Vampires and all the other breeds killed what they called “necromancers,” human magic-users, with punitive unanimity.

      And they were right to do so, Valera thought with a difficult swallow. Almost every necromancer she had ever met had been arrogant, vicious, and morally flawed. Before she had understood what the difference was between what they were and what she was, she had been relieved to find others like herself. But then she had seen them capture Demons and maliciously stake out Vampires with no proof of any crimes or for any other reason except to watch them suffer. They had revolted her, and once she had realized how corrupted they were—increasingly so with every day—she had run.

      To here. Here, where she was safe and all the races of the earth were safe from her. She was terrified that the blackness that had overcome those others would overtake her, so she had tried to resist the use СКАЧАТЬ