Read Online Thin Air by Rachel Caine - Free Book Online Page B

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    When I looked back, Lewis was zipping up his blue jeans, water dripping from his brown hair to patter on his strong, tanned shoulders. Without looking up he said, in the most studiously normal tone I could imagine, “The water’s going to stay warm for the next half hour or so. Might as well use it. You need it.”
    I hadn’t made a sound; I was certain of that. But he wasn’t shooting in the dark; after he’d toweled his hair dry with his T-shirt, Lewis lifted his head and focused his stare right on the scrubby trees that screened me from immediate view.
    Busted.
    I cleared my throat and pushed through, earning a few scrapes in the process. Apart from another distant mutter of thunder, the lead-colored day was very quiet. Water lapped the shore. Lewis shook out his T-shirt and pulled it on, then a thermal top, then added one of those well-used flannel shirts on top, which he buttoned almost to the neck.
    I took the plunge. “Lewis, did we ever—you know…?
    He concentrated on his shirt buttons, even though it wasn’t like they took a lot of effort. I could see he was thinking about lying to me, and then he gave up and said, “Once.”
    â€œWow.” I tried to smile. “Was it that bad?”
    â€œNo, it was that good.” He kept his eyes fixed somewhere else, not on me, but I still felt a flash of heat and nerves. “Look, I’m not in love with you,” he said. “Maybe I used to be, but I’m not anymore. So you don’t have to worry about any complications from me.”
    I nodded. His gaze finally brushed over me, moving fast; even though his eyes didn’t linger, I felt another wave of corresponding heat.
    â€œI just want you to understand where I stand,” he said. “You don’t love me, I don’t love you, and that’s it. Right?”
    â€œRight,” I said. My lips felt numb. “I love David.”
    â€œYes. You do. You don’t know it right now, but you do.” That warmth-inducing gaze came back to fix on me. With a vengeance. “You’ll remember.”
    â€œWhat if I don’t want to?”
    He let out a breath, and it plumed white on the sharp-edged breeze. For a long, perilous second, it seemed like he had something to say to me, but I felt him give it up before he could make the leap. He looked away. “Hurry up. We have to be on the trail in the next hour.” And with that he sat down on the shore, put on thick socks, laced up his hiking boots, and sauntered off.
    I guess his ribs had healed. He wasn’t favoring them, although there had been a spectacular multicolored bruise on his left side.
    On the one hand, it was good that my sole human ally and—to be fair—protector was back in top form.
    On the other hand…the rib thing had been convenient for us to use as a shield between us. Now gone.
    I watched, but he didn’t glance back. The water was still steaming. I bit my lip, sniffed myself again, and stripped even though the bone-chilling wind made it torture.
    I’d forgotten how good warm water felt. I guess I’d known intellectually, but the second I waded in and felt it immersing me, I could barely breathe for the pleasure of it. I sank down to my neck, then held my breath and slipped under the surface. I stayed under for at least thirty seconds, then broke through to take in a gulp of air. The bottom of the pond was slimy and the rocks were sharp, so even though I had no specific recollection, I was pretty sure I’d had better baths. It just didn’t feel that way at the moment. This was the first real memory I had of one, and it was magical. I couldn’t really relax, though. I kept watching the tree line, waiting for the bad guys to jump out.
    Nothing. The day was silent, brooding, with a sharp smell of incoming rain or snow.
    When the water began to chill I waded out, hastily dried off, dressed, and ran back to the cave. My teeth