to peer around him. He checked Keira’s pulse; it was steady, but she was still deep under. He picked her up gently and held her cradled against his chest. Her lips were slightly parted and she was breathing lightly but evenly and that wave of tenderness washed over him again.
Mine.
The word whispered through his mind and his arms tightened. He looked up to find all three watching him, their faces blanked of expressions. Sebastian he presumed on purpose. But he suspected Tasha and Anya were “speaking” to each other.
He cleared his throat. “Lead the way.”
He followed them out of the garage, down another two flights of stairs to one of the lower levels. Finally, Sebastian led him through a door into an antechamber and then into the room itself. It was small, with a narrow cot bed, a table, a single chair, a fridge in the corner, and a tiny bathroom.
“It was the best we could do in the time,” Sebastian said.
But obviously, someone—Tasha and Anya presumably—had gone to some effort to brighten the place up with a scarlet bedspread and matching cushions. There were pictures of horses on the walls and a bright woven rug on the floor. Flowers in a vase. Still, it was hard to hide that it was essentially a small, windowless metal box.
A camera hung from the ceiling in one corner of the room, pointing at the bed. He supposed it was a necessity, but he hated the thought of other people watching her sleep.
Tasha ran in front of him and stripped down the bedspread. He laid Keira on the soft cotton sheets, tugged off her shoes, and then pulled the blanket over her. She immediately curled onto her side and snuggled into the pillow.
He wished he could lie next to her and hold her, be there for her when she woke, but he knew it was impossible, and he forced himself to turn away.
Once outside, the exhaustion dragged at him as he realized he’d done it. She was here and safe for the moment.
The outer room had been set up like an observation station, with a desk and monitor, a couple of chairs and a small sofa pushed against the back wall. He rifled in the desk, found a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbled a quick note so she wouldn’t feel so alone when she awoke.
I’ll be close by.
Connor.
Then he went back into the room and placed the note on the table where she would see it when she woke. When he came back out, they were all still there. He got the distinct impression they’d been talking about him.
Anya came to stand beside him and rested her hand on his arm. “Connor, go to bed,” she said. “We’ll watch out for her.”
He knew it was sensible. He glanced at the monitor—someone had switched it on—and saw Keira sleeping. He had no clue how long she would stay that way. “Don’t go in there if she wakes,” he said. “And come and get me if there’s any change. And—”
“Connor, go to bed.”
He glanced at Sebastian who regarded him with an expression of wry amusement that Connor wasn’t sure he liked. Actually, he was sure—he didn’t like it.
He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and forced the tension from his muscles. When he opened his eyes, they were all still watching him.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced, turned around and stalked from the room.
***
She was warm and dry. Positively cozy—all she had ever asked for when living on the moors.
The bed was soft and the pillow deep and she snuggled down for a moment longer. She didn’t want to open her eyes, she was so comfortable, but something tugged at her memory.
Connor.
Making love.
Nearly killing him.
Taking the pills.
Her eyes opened. She was no longer on the moors, that much was clear. She lay on a bed in a small room, with no windows. For a few seconds claustrophobia threatened to overtake her. She’d spent a year in a cell when she had first become telepathic and the nightmares still haunted her from that time. She breathed in deeply and forced the panic down. Someone had left a bottle of water
Mine.
The word whispered through his mind and his arms tightened. He looked up to find all three watching him, their faces blanked of expressions. Sebastian he presumed on purpose. But he suspected Tasha and Anya were “speaking” to each other.
He cleared his throat. “Lead the way.”
He followed them out of the garage, down another two flights of stairs to one of the lower levels. Finally, Sebastian led him through a door into an antechamber and then into the room itself. It was small, with a narrow cot bed, a table, a single chair, a fridge in the corner, and a tiny bathroom.
“It was the best we could do in the time,” Sebastian said.
But obviously, someone—Tasha and Anya presumably—had gone to some effort to brighten the place up with a scarlet bedspread and matching cushions. There were pictures of horses on the walls and a bright woven rug on the floor. Flowers in a vase. Still, it was hard to hide that it was essentially a small, windowless metal box.
A camera hung from the ceiling in one corner of the room, pointing at the bed. He supposed it was a necessity, but he hated the thought of other people watching her sleep.
Tasha ran in front of him and stripped down the bedspread. He laid Keira on the soft cotton sheets, tugged off her shoes, and then pulled the blanket over her. She immediately curled onto her side and snuggled into the pillow.
He wished he could lie next to her and hold her, be there for her when she woke, but he knew it was impossible, and he forced himself to turn away.
Once outside, the exhaustion dragged at him as he realized he’d done it. She was here and safe for the moment.
The outer room had been set up like an observation station, with a desk and monitor, a couple of chairs and a small sofa pushed against the back wall. He rifled in the desk, found a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbled a quick note so she wouldn’t feel so alone when she awoke.
I’ll be close by.
Connor.
Then he went back into the room and placed the note on the table where she would see it when she woke. When he came back out, they were all still there. He got the distinct impression they’d been talking about him.
Anya came to stand beside him and rested her hand on his arm. “Connor, go to bed,” she said. “We’ll watch out for her.”
He knew it was sensible. He glanced at the monitor—someone had switched it on—and saw Keira sleeping. He had no clue how long she would stay that way. “Don’t go in there if she wakes,” he said. “And come and get me if there’s any change. And—”
“Connor, go to bed.”
He glanced at Sebastian who regarded him with an expression of wry amusement that Connor wasn’t sure he liked. Actually, he was sure—he didn’t like it.
He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and forced the tension from his muscles. When he opened his eyes, they were all still watching him.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced, turned around and stalked from the room.
***
She was warm and dry. Positively cozy—all she had ever asked for when living on the moors.
The bed was soft and the pillow deep and she snuggled down for a moment longer. She didn’t want to open her eyes, she was so comfortable, but something tugged at her memory.
Connor.
Making love.
Nearly killing him.
Taking the pills.
Her eyes opened. She was no longer on the moors, that much was clear. She lay on a bed in a small room, with no windows. For a few seconds claustrophobia threatened to overtake her. She’d spent a year in a cell when she had first become telepathic and the nightmares still haunted her from that time. She breathed in deeply and forced the panic down. Someone had left a bottle of water
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