Chapter Three
Dana gave the mirror one last glance. “You look nervous,” she told herself.
She felt it, too. When was the last time she had gone on a date?
A moment’s thought made her grimace. Graham Walsh. Four months ago.
Ugh. What a jerk. All hands. No brain. Smarmy little bastard.
Why couldn’t her gift tell her ahead of time which men would suck as companions and which ones wouldn’t?
She paused. Well, it had, sort of, this time. Hadn’t it?
Heat coursed through her as she recalled the vision of Aidan touching her bare body.
Was she crazy to let that vision guide her instead of the other two, which had been so frightening? The man had a violent past.
What soldier hasn’t? her inner voice countered. Especially if they did tours in the Middle East?
True. But Aidan had freely admitted that he had a violent present as well.
Not really, the voice denied. He said he has a dangerous job. Dangerous, not violent.
She bit her lip. He liked to hack at other men with swords in his free time. That was violent, wasn’t it?
Isn’t that better than parking his ass on the couch and playing video games all day or drinking with his buddies all night?
She supposed so. It certainly kept Aidan fit. All those lovely muscles…
But what about the tarot cards? They had confirmed that something bad was on Aidan’s horizon. Did she really want to start something with him when she knew something awful was coming?
When is something bad not on the horizon? That’s life.
Also true. How many times had bad things happened in her life?
Too many to count. And her damned gift hadn’t prevented any of it.
Her damned gift that hadn’t bothered Aidan in the least. Usually when she told guys she was psychic, they assumed she was a flake, or mentally off, or—in a few cases—thought her a tool they could use to win the lotto. And they tended to really hate that she saw things about them that they preferred to keep hidden.
Aidan, on the other hand, had been refreshingly unfazed by it all.
And he had made her laugh. She loved that about him. He had a very appealing sense of humor.
“You still look nervous,” she told her reflection.
She supposed that was better than looking desperate.
Aidan hadn’t mentioned where they would be dining, so she had had worn her trusty black dress that could pass for either casual or dressy, depending on the shoes and accents she wore with it.
She’d add those after she saw what he was wearing.
A bell dinged downstairs.
Her heart leapt.
Switching off the light, she left her bedroom, hurried down the hallway, and skipped down the stairs that led to the shop.
When she spotted Aidan, she damn near tripped over her own feet.
He stood just inside the door, his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he calmly waited for her to appear.
She even liked that about him. People seemed to have less and less patience every day, wanting to have whatever they wanted the minute they wanted it and getting pissed at even a minute’s delay.
Aidan seemed perfectly content to wait, as though he had all the time in the world.
A faint smile tilted his lips as he studied the comfortable waiting area in front of the bay window.
Tonight he wore a dress shirt, tie, and jacket—all black—and looked even more handsome than he had last week. No five-o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw. His wavy hair had been carefully tamed. Mostly.
She grinned when she saw a few curls already starting to rebel.
When he glanced over at her, his smile widened. “There you are.”
“Hi.”
His gaze went to her own carefully tamed brown locks and swept a slow path to her toes. His eyes twinkled when he saw her shoes: black Converse Chuck Taylor high-top sneakers.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she approached him. “I’ll change them before we leave. These are just more comfortable for work.”
When she stopped in front of him, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “You look lovely.” He kissed her hand again. “And I’ve seen the shoes women torture themselves with today. I’d rather you be comfortable. The Chucks are fine.”
She stared up at him, her heart trip-hammering in her breast. “Seriously?”
“Of course.”
That was a first.
The image of a pretty, petite redhead flashed through her mind.
Fighting a frown, Dana withdrew her hand. “You don’t, by any chance, have a redheaded girlfriend who wears Chucks, do you?”
His eyebrows flew up. “You saw her when we touched?”
She nodded, disappointment striking.
“Do you remember the toddler I told you about?” he asked.
“The one who inspired you to say caboose?”
He grinned. “That’s the one. Her mother and father are friends of mine. And her mother does indeed have bright red hair and wear shoes identical to yours.”
“Oh.” She relaxed. “Good.”
He winked. “Thought I was a geek and a womanizer, did you?”
She laughed. “I don’t think anyone would mistake you for a geek, Aidan.”
“A womanizer either if they knew my past,” he said with a wry smile. “Your gift is far stronger than I thought it would be when I made my first appointment.”
She shifted, wishing she had pockets of her own. The formfitting black dress left her with no place to tuck her hands when she felt awkward. Like now. “Honestly, visions this strong are pretty rare for me. I don’t know why, but I seem to see things more clearly with you. It’s unusually”—what was the word she wanted?—“effortless.”
He tilted his head to one side. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I don’t know yet.”
“Well, let’s hope it is. And I appreciate your candor.”
She shrugged. “Since I’ll likely see more about you than you want me to, I figured honesty was only fair.” She motioned to the open doorway behind her. “Shall we begin your reading?”
“As you will.”
She reached past him and turned the lock on the front door, then led him to the earth-toned room.
“Should I remove my jacket and tie?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
Why did it feel so intimate, watching him doff them?
Taking the clothes, she hung them on coat hooks tucked behind the door. When she turned around, she found him unbuttoning and removing his dress shirt.
She stared. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man wear a black T-shirt under a dress shirt before.” Usually they either wore a white T-shirt or nothing at all.
He offered her a sheepish smile. “I can never seem to keep my white shirts white.”
She grinned. “You and me both.” Taking the shirt, she hung it beside his jacket and tried to ignore the appealing scent it bore.
Aidan folded his large body onto her massage chair with a grimace. “I definitely heard it creak this time. If I keep coming here, I’m going to have to lose a few pounds.”
“Don’t you dare,” she admonished, then bit her lip.
He arched a brow, lips twitching.
A blush heated her cheeks as she laughed. “You have an uncanny way of making me say things I should only think.”
“I beg to differ,” he said with another wink. “They’d be far less entertaining if you didn’t speak them.”
Dana moved to stand behind him. “Any new injuries or health conditions I should know about?”
“Not a one.”
“Good.”
She began to stroke his broad, muscular back. Her pulse picked up, pleasure winding its way through her in a way it never did with her other clients. “No long, loud moan?” she teased.
He chuckled. “I thought I should contain myself.”
Dana smiled as she worked her way down either side of his spine, then up again. She had wondered if she would again have visions of the two of them in bed. But as the minutes passed, lust didn’t fill her. Concern did. “Something’s happened since I last saw you,” she murmured. “Something that’s troubling you deeply.”
He said nothing.
“You’re worried about losing someone.”
He swore faintly. “Your gift is strong. Did you see that or sense it?”
“Sensed it.”
He shook his head. “A friend of mine is ill. He’s struggling.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “It’s something brain related?” Her gift told her as much.
“Yes. We’re hoping the doctors will be able to save him, but time is growing short. And he’s losing hope.”
“But you’re helping him,” she murmured. “I don’t know how, but whatever you’re doing is helping him.” She frowned. “Will help him. It’s something you just started doing recently?”
Straightening, he looked over his shoulder at her. “You saw that?”
She shrugged. “More like felt it.”
He stared for a long moment, unspeaking. And she got the impression he wanted to ask her a question but feared the answer she might give. “Will it be enough?” he asked finally. “Will it keep him going until the doctors can find a way to heal him?”
Moving closer, Dana cupped Aidan’s face in both hands. His jaw was as smooth as it looked. His skin warm. His eyes tormented. Her pulse picked up at the contact, but she ignored it and focused her gift, searching for the answer he wanted.
A minute passed.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just not coming to me.”
He covered one of her hands with his and held it to his cheek. “Thank you for trying.”
The room around them fell away into darkness. Now Aidan stood before her, looking down at her while she cupped his face in her small hands.
His head dipped. His lips met hers, claimed hers in a kiss that stole her breath and sparked heat. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her up against his hard form, then slid his hand down her back and over her ass to press her hips into his and let her feel his arousal.
Gasping, Dana dropped her hands and broke contact.
The earth-toned walls of the room resurfaced. Aidan still sat on the massage chair.
While she gaped at him, her heart pounding, body tingling from the vision that had come upon her so unexpectedly, he reached up and rubbed closed eyes with the hand that had held hers, almost as though he had a headache.
“Everything okay?” he murmured, probably wondering why she had jerked her hands back.
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see it with his eyes closed. “Yes.” Forcing a smile, she poured every ounce of normal into her voice that she could muster. “Is your head hurting?”
“No. My eyes were just…” He shook his head and smiled as he lowered his hand and met her gaze. “They’re fine now.”
“Okay. Would you like to skip ahead to the reading?”
He smiled. “Is your gift already warmed up then?”
Among other things. “Yes.”
He stood. “As you will.”
Body burning, Aidan watched Dana cross to the bookshelf and reach up to grab her tarot cards. He could not stop his gaze from following a path down her back to her narrow waist, full hips, and the bottom he had clutched in her vision.
Once more he felt the heat of her body as he had pressed her against him and ground his hips into hers. Damn, it had felt good. And it had felt so real that he had actually been surprised to find himself still sitting in her massage chair when she broke contact.
If you don’t stop thinking about it, your eyes will begin to glow again, he counseled himself as he reached over to the coat hooks and grabbed his dress shirt. Drawing it on, he fastened the buttons down the front and left the tail untucked to hide the arousal Dana wouldn’t miss if she glanced at his slacks.
“Are there any other questions you’d like me to try to answer tonight?” she asked as she claimed one of the chairs and motioned for him to take the other.
Sitting across from her, Aidan took the deck she offered, cut it, and shuffled it several times. “Not really. Just curious about my future, I guess.”
The vision had shaken her. But she did a fair job of hiding it as she began to lay out the cards. Her brow furrowed. “Something bad is definitely coming, Aidan. Has anything happened that could give you a clue as to what it might be? The more I know, the more I may be able to see.”
He shook his head. “No.” He had even spent a couple of days at David’s place, which had become the hub of the Immortal Guardians’ world here on the East Coast, to see if he’d catch any weird vibes as Cliff would say. But Aidan had felt nothing off when he encountered Seth this past week. He had found no clues at all that might help him guess why Seth would apparently soon want to kill him. “Not so much as a hint,” he murmured.
Frowning down at the cards, she slid her hand across the table.
Aidan clasped it in his, eager to touch her again.
How long had it been since he had held a woman’s hand?
A moment’s thought couldn’t uncover the answer.
He had taken a lover here in the United States in the 60s. A lot of immortals had. The era of free love and the prodigious use of hallucinogens had, for once, made it easy for them. No need to worry about their lovers freaking out over glowing eyes and fangs when such could be blamed on the drugs.
But it had been a casual affair. All about sex. No emotional connection. No hand-holding or snuggling. No real spark, not like the one Aidan felt each time he saw or touched Dana.
“I still can’t see what it is,” she said, raising frustrated eyes to his. “Just that it’s going to be bad.”
“I’ve seen bad before and lived to tell the tale.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest. “I guess you have. But you had men at your back you could trust then, didn’t you?”
He slid his thumb across her hand, loving her soft skin. “You still believe I’ll face whatever is coming alone? That my brothers won’t be by my side?”
She glanced down at the cards. “I don’t know if you’ll be alone. But I keep feeling like you won’t know who to trust. Or that someone you do trust may turn against you…” Her fingers tightened around his.
Aidan delved into her thoughts as another vision gripped her.
Two men, indistinct at first, hacked at each other with swords.
Him and Seth again?
No. As the figures swam into focus, Aidan had to clamp his lips together to prevent an expletive from bursting forth.
Roland Warbrook swung his swords with furious precision. Nearly a millennium old, he was a formidable opponent, matching Aidan in skill. And Roland appeared to be as determined to kill Aidan as Seth had been in Dana’s previous vision.
What the hell?
Roland’s mouth moved in a shout that went unheard in the silent vision. But Aidan had little difficulty reading the British immortal’s lips.
You killed her, you bloody bastard! You killed her!
Dana yanked her hand back, leapt to her feet, and again stumbled away from the table, nearly knocking over her chair.
Aidan’s heart pounded in his ears.
Killed whom? Killed Sarah—Roland’s wife?
His blood went cold. Who else but Roland’s wife could Aidan kill that would drive the reclusive, antisocial immortal to seek Aidan’s death?
He swallowed hard.
Aidan would never harm Sarah, let alone kill her. She was the one who had given him hope again. She was the reason he believed he might actually one day find a woman who would love him and transform for him. Nothing could make Aidan slay Sarah. It just didn’t make sense.
“Okay,” Dana blurted, eyes wide as she pointed a trembling finger at him, “you have got to stop sword fighting in your spare time. Because that crap is going to get you killed!”
If Seth and Roland both wanted Aidan dead, there was a damned good chance it would get him killed.
She drew in several slow, deep breaths to calm herself, then retook her seat. “Aidan?”
Try though he might, he couldn’t find a lighthearted response.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry Aidan. I didn’t mean to shout. And I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t really think your reenactment thing is crap. I just—”
“Had another vision that startled you,” he interrupted, unoffended.
“Yes, but I didn’t actually see you get killed, if that’s why you look so worried. It was just another vision of you and one of your reenactment friends going at each other with swords. But it was so vivid that it caught me off guard and scared me.” She smiled wryly. “Again.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry. I overreacted. I didn’t see you die. I really didn’t. So please, stop looking like I just told you the exact date and time of your death.”
He wished she could tell him the exact date and time he would die. Then he would know how long he had to head off whatever the hell was going to make Seth and Roland want to kill him.
He smiled and forced his shoulders to relax. “No worries.”
Her lips tilted up in a smile as a twinkle entered her eyes. “I don’t know why so many people think men who do the whole reenactment thing are nerds. What I just saw was like something you’d see in the League of Assassins or something. Very impressive.”
He winked. “Does that mean you’ll still go to dinner with me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” He stood.
Her eyebrows rose. “You mean now? Don’t you want me to finish the reading?”
He shook his head. “Another time perhaps.” If she saw much more in her visions, she’d know they had nothing to do with a reenactment group. He would like to get to know her better—and for her to get to know him better—before he risked all and tried to explain the whole I’m-immortal-and-kill-vampires-for-a-living thing.
Rising, Aidan crossed to the coat hooks and retrieved his tie.
“I’ll go change my shoes,” Dana said as she headed for the doorway.
“You’re welcome to wear those,” Aidan reminded her, glancing at her Chucks.
She laughed. “Maybe on our next date.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, if there is one.”
Aidan winked when color flooded her face. “Too late. You’ve already promised me a second date. I’m going to hold you to it.”
Laughing again, she ducked out of the room.
The restaurant Aidan had chosen was owned and operated by the network.
Chris Reordon apparently was the human equivalent of Seth. The man could do anything and had a finger in everything.
Aidan had learned in the two years since he’d transferred to North Carolina that Chris was one of those stellar individuals who went above and beyond the call of duty. The network head’s job was to ensure that the existence of immortals, vampires, and gifted ones remained a secret by cleaning up the messes immortals and vampires made, keeping Immortal Guardians supplied with bagged blood (donated by network employees), providing them with new identities each time they outlived their current one, forging whatever other documentation they needed to move from country to country, giving them new homes, safe houses for emergencies, an impressive income, and the like.
The network head also had to oversee the thousands of mortal employees who aided the Immortal Guardians by studying the virus that infected them, monitoring the internet for any videos or mentions that might out the immortals, posing as emergency-response crews when things got messier than usual, managing the Immortal Guardians’ money, infiltrating certain agencies that were swathed in secrecy so they could gain more intel and provide Immortal Guardians with real-time satellite-surveillance images when the immortals launched the kind of large-scale battles they had in recent years, serving as Seconds (or mortal guards who each served a particular immortal, handled business for them during daylight hours, backed them up in battle, and kept them from living too solitary an existence), and more.
But Chris considered all that par for the course and went even further.
Chris didn’t just want the immortals to maintain anonymity and be comfortable. He wanted them to be happy and have as close to a normal life as possible, even though they spent their nights in the very abnormal pursuit of hunting vampires.
So Reordon built restaurants like this one that served humans in the main dining area and immortals and their Seconds in a smaller room boasting a VIP label that led humans to assume the men and women guided back there were simply wealthy individuals who wanted special treatment. That way Seconds could enjoy a meal they didn’t have to cook themselves and talk about the job without worrying about being overheard. And immortals could use their gifts without ending up in videos posted online.
Aidan had, of course, called ahead to let Sergio—the manager—know that he would be dining with a human woman, so Sergio wouldn’t slip and mention Aidan’s occupation.
Pocketing his keys, Aidan strode around the back of the car.
Dana stepped out before he could reach her.
“Aren’t men supposed to open car doors for women?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. It always felt weird to me to sit there and expect someone else to do something I was perfectly capable of doing myself. So I never waited to see if the man would do it.”
He closed the door for her. “When I look at it from that perspective, I suppose I would feel the same way.” Placing a hand on the small of her back, Aidan tried to keep his eyes from fastening on the lovely hint of cleavage the neckline of her dress exposed as he escorted her to the door. “I trust you’ll let me open this door for you?” he teased, reaching for the handle.
She laughed. “Yes, thank you.”
The interior of the restaurant was nice. White tablecloths. Candles and warm lighting. A plethora of plants that added color and provided privacy for couples who wanted such.
A man in a suit as expensive and finely tailored as Aidan’s greeted them with a smile. “Good evening. Aidan O’Byrne?” he asked, tilting his head back to look up at Aidan.
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I’m Sergio, the manager of this establishment. Would you and your guest please follow me? I’ve had a table prepared for you in our VIP section.” Sergio turned and started toward a door on the far side of the restaurant.
As Aidan and Dana followed, she leaned in close and whispered, “VIP section. Ooh la la.”
Aidan laughed.
The restaurant seemed to do a bustling business. The tables they passed were full of human couples and families.
Sergio opened the door to the VIP area and stood back to let them enter. Closing the door behind them, he guided them down a short hallway that opened into a smaller dining room.
For some reason, Aidan had expected the dining room to be empty. But it wasn’t. Three Immortal Guardians—Étienne, his wife Krysta, and her brother Sean—dined with an older couple Aidan had come to know as Krysta’s mortal parents. Both parents were gifted ones, but Aidan couldn’t remember the nature of their gifts.
All turned at Aidan and Dana’s entrance and smiled, issuing a chorus of greetings.
Aidan paused by their table.
“Who’s this?” Krysta’s mother, Evie, asked cheerfully.
The Immortal Guardians in the area all adored Evie because she fussed over them and treated them all like sons and daughters, something most hadn’t experienced in hundreds—if not thousands—of years.
“This is Dana Pembroke,” he said. “Dana, this is Étienne, his wife Krysta, her brother Sean, and their parents Evelyn and Martin.”
Dana smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you all.”
Each offered a “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Call me Evie,” Krysta’s mother said, then smiled up at Aidan with twinkling eyes. “I’d ask you if you’d like to join us, but I can tell you’d rather have Dana all to yourself.”
Krysta groaned. “Mom, don’t embarrass him.”
Dana laughed and sent Aidan a flirtatious glance that made his heart do a funny little leap in his chest. “You want me all to yourself, do you?”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
Murmuring goodbyes, they left the group and followed Sergio to the other side of the room.
Two Seconds monopolized another table, laptops open amidst platters of more food than Aidan thought two humans should be able to consume. Sheldon served as the French immortal Richart’s Second or human guard. Tracy served as Richart’s sister Lisette’s Second.
Aidan nodded to them. “Sheldon. Tracy.”
Sheldon nodded. “Hey, man.” His eyes shifted to Dana and widened. “Dude, are you on a date?”
He didn’t have to look so damned surprised. “Yes. And I’m trying to impress her, so don’t be”—he waved a hand in a circle in front of Sheldon—“you.”
Tracy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in check.”
Sheldon gave Dana a friendly smile and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Sheldon.”
Dana returned his smile and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dana.”
“Nice to meet you, Dana. This is Tracy.”
Dana shook Tracy’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Tracy.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Dana looked up at Aidan. “Is Sheldon one of your adopted brothers?”
Aidan chuckled. “No. Sheldon is more of a… weird cousin to us all.”
Sheldon grinned. “Proud of it!” Then he frowned. “Hey. Wait a minute.”
Everyone laughed.
As Aidan and Dana moved away, Sergio waved them over to a table in the corner with romantic lighting and plants that partially hid them from the others’ view.
Aidan held Dana’s chair for her, then seated himself across from her.
Sergio handed them each a menu and vowed to return in a moment.
Dana’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she opened her menu and studied him above it.
Aidan offered her a sheepish smile. “Apparently surrogate family members can embarrass one as much as blood relatives can.”
Étienne, Krysta, and Sean laughed, their preternatural hearing allowing them to catch the comment.
Dana smiled. “I take it some of the others were the brothers you mentioned you work with?”
He nodded. “Étienne, Krysta, and her brother Sean are part of the private security group I work with. Out of the lot of us, I think Krysta and Sean are the only ones amongst us with family still living. So Evie and Martin have sort of adopted the rest of us. They treat us all like kin, mothering and fathering us every chance they can get.”
Dana smiled. “And you all love it.”
“We eat it up like candy,” Aidan admitted with a grin.
“I envy you that. I lost my parents in a car accident several years ago and really miss all the worrying and butting in—the telling me not to waste my time with this guy or that one—that drove me crazy when I was in high school and college.” Her eyes darkened with sadness, then lit up again. “Ooh. I bet my mom would’ve been able to answer all your questions. Her psychic gift was much stronger than mine.”
“Your mother was psychic, too?” Aidan asked with interest. One of the oddities he’d come to understand about gifted ones was that they didn’t always share the same gift their mother or father possessed.
Dana nodded. “So was my dad, if you can believe it. They used to joke that they never bothered to date anyone else because they knew years before they met that they would end up together.”
Both parents had been psychic gifted ones? No wonder her gift was stronger than he had expected. Many gifted ones born in recent decades possessed gifts that were so muted by thousands of years of gifted ones DNA being diluted with ordinary human DNA that they didn’t even realize they were different.
Aidan opened his menu and perused the offerings. “Anything look good to you?”
Dana eyed the menu. “Are you kidding? Everything looks good to me.”
He set his menu aside. “In the movies, the man sometimes orders for the woman, but I’d much rather you choose what you want yourself. If that’s everything”—he smiled—“then I’ll have Sergio bring us a little bit of everything.”
She stared at him a moment, then lowered her menu. “May I ask you something personal?”
“Of course.”
“How long has it been since your last date?”
He laughed. “Longer than I care to admit. It shows, does it?”
Her slender shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Maybe a little.”
“And here I was hoping to make a good impression.”
“You are. A very good impression. But more than once you’ve referenced what you thought men were supposed to do on a date instead of just sort of going with what you’ve always done, so I thought maybe it had been a while.”
Far longer than a while.
“Which I find very hard to believe,” she continued, “because—with your good looks and charm—I would think women would fall all over themselves to get your attention.”
In the rare instances he followed vampires into bars or clubs, women could be quite bold in their pursuit of him. But Aidan wasn’t looking for an easy lay. He’d had his fill of women who could make him hard but otherwise bored the pants off him. He wanted someone who could hold his attention when they weren’t in bed. Someone with whom he enjoyed talking. Someone who made him laugh. Someone who challenged him intellectually. Someone who made him feel young again.
Sergio returned with a waiter who placed two glasses of water and a basket full of bread on the table. The waiter took their order, then left.
Sergio migrated over to Étienne’s table, asking if everything had met their expectations as the group prepared to leave.
Aidan and Dana waved as the group exited.
“I hope I didn’t make you feel self-conscious or anything,” Dana said, a question in her pretty hazel eyes. “I haven’t dated in a while either.”
“Because of your gift?” he guessed.
She nodded and toyed with the basket. “When guys find out what I do for a living, they tend to assume I’m nuts. The few who don’t usually consider me a tool they can use to win the lotto or get rich playing the stock market.”
“Imbeciles, the lot of them,” Aidan declared.
She smiled. “Thank you. But even those who accept it, or at least appear to…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard for them, I guess, my knowing things about them that they would rather keep hidden. It makes them uneasy. Sometimes it makes them angry.”
“Or afraid?”
“That, too, though they would never admit it.”
“And I’m guessing your gift often lets you see things you really wish you hadn’t.” He sure as hell saw a lot in people’s thoughts that he would rather not. But when he was tired he sometimes couldn’t block them.
She grimaced. “That, too. Being psychic makes dating pretty hard.”
“I understand.”
She cast him an uncertain look. “It really doesn’t freak you out, even a little bit, knowing I can see things from your past, present, and future? Knowing that the more time we spend together, the more I’ll see and the more I’ll know about you that you may not want me to know? Because I will see stuff you don’t want me to, Aidan. I always do. And it always ruins things.”
Leaning forward, Aidan crossed his arms and braced them on the table. What he contemplated was no doubt very unwise, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from saying, “It doesn’t freak me out at all, Dana, because I’m in the same boat.”