Chapter Seven
Dana stood several yards away, face pale, features pinched with shock and he wasn’t sure what else.
Aidan wanted so badly to read her mind just then, to see how much damage had been done, if there was any way he could salvage their relationship. But he had promised he would only do so in an emergency.
Inwardly, he kicked himself. He should have told her. He should have told her everything. Before this. Before most of his secrets had been flung in her face in a few minutes’ time span. Because this was a hell of a lot to take in all at once.
He took a hesitant step toward her.
She didn’t back away. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“Dana—”
“Your eyes are glowing,” she interrupted. Though she said it matter-of-factly, he could hear her heart pummeling her rib cage.
Aidan reached up and rubbed his eyes. Of course they were. He was furious at Roland. Furious at himself. And terrified that Dana would not be able to accept this part of him. Or that she would not forgive him for keeping it from her.
Their relationship was new. Too new, perhaps, for them to work through this.
And the notion tore him up inside.
“I know,” he responded softly. “I’m sorry. The stronger the emotion that grips me, the harder it is for me to control it.”
He might have only known Dana for a couple of weeks, but he had never been this drawn to a woman before, had never been so captivated or craved a woman’s company as much as he had Dana’s. And it wasn’t because of loneliness. It was because she made him happy. Made him feel normal… human… and had brought light back into his life.
Lowering his hand, he met her wide-eyed gaze.
“Their eyes were glowing, too,” she said.
“Yes.”
Her throat moved in a swallow. “And when you were fighting that guy…”
“Roland,” he offered, providing the name of his opponent.
“You both moved as fast as the Flash,” she continued.
Roland had given him little choice, damn him. “Yes.”
Time ticked by, stretching his nerves taut.
She nodded slowly. And even from this distance, he could see her hands shaking. “You said you were different.”
He had.
“On our first date, you told me you were different,” she repeated.
“Yes, I did.”
Glancing down, she considered the Taser in her hand, the probes Roland had removed with ease, the abandoned swords Seth had cast aside, then met his gaze once more. “You kind of downplayed it, huh?”
Under other circumstances, he might have laughed. But now the best he could do was muster a weak smile. “Yes, I did.”
Insects hummed.
Frogs croaked.
And every second Dana didn’t tell him to go to hell, Aidan felt a tiny spark of hope.
He motioned to the Taser. “Are you going to use that on me?”
She glanced at the weapon she held. “Would it do any good?”
He shrugged. “It might make you feel better.”
Another nod. “Then I reserve the right to use it on you later. Right now…” Tears welled in her eyes as she swallowed hard once more. “Could you maybe just hold me for a minute?”
Heart aching, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace.
The Taser clattered to the ground as she dropped it and fisted her small hands in the back of his coat.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, then rested his cheek on top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Dana nearly burst into tears.
Those hoarsely uttered words carried such remorse.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” she whispered, voice breaking. When she had seen Aidan and that other man hacking at each other with swords as they had in her vision…
“Roland?” he murmured.
She nodded against his chest, doing her damnedest to fight back the sobs that threatened to tumble forth. She had never been so afraid in her life. Her body still shook from it.
“I’m stronger than he is,” Aidan said, his voice both gentle and full of regret. For the scare he had given her? Or for her finding out he’d been keeping such enormous secrets from her? “He wouldn’t have bested me.”
Aidan had fought fiercely, but…
“When that other guy appeared out of nowhere,” she said, “the one I saw trying to kill you in the other vision…” The one who’d looked like he was damned near seven feet tall and had black hair down to his ass and eyes that glowed golden. “I thought…”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her back.
She had thought the taller man and Roland would join forces, that they would work together to kill Aidan. And utter terror had gripped her because she had known she couldn’t do jack about it.
“I’m okay,” he whispered. “We both are. I’ll never let anyone harm you, Dana. I vow it. I’d give my life to protect you.”
And despite everything, she believed him.
But hadn’t he hurt her by not trusting her with whatever the hell all this meant?
“I’m so sorry,” he said again.
Dana burrowed closer. “This doesn’t mean I’m not pissed at you,” she said in a broken whisper. She was. She just couldn’t seem to let go.
“I know,” he said with so much sorrow that she wanted to cry even more. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” he suggested. “I can feel you trembling.”
Her heart continued to pound erratically, too.
“Let’s go inside,” he urged again. “So you can be warm and comfortable while I try to explain all this and engage in what I imagine will be a fair amount of groveling and begging your forgiveness.”
Dana couldn’t imagine Aidan begging for anything, not after she’d seen him swing his swords with such precision. But she really did need to sit down. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“No,” she told him. “I’m okay.”
Shifting her to his side, he kept one arm around her shoulders as he escorted her into her shop and halted just inside the door. “I need to collect the weapons. It will only take a moment.”
When she nodded, he stepped out into the night.
Moving over to the waiting area, she looked through the bay window.
Outside, Aidan bent down to retrieve her discarded Taser, then headed for the swords that had flown across the parking lot as though guided by an unseen hand.
He didn’t zip around like the Flash this time. He moved at normal speeds, his lips clamped together in a grim line.
She supposed he did that for her benefit.
As she watched him, she became conscious of her reflection in the windowpanes.
The heartbeat that had begun to slow picked up speed once more as she stared.
Something red was smeared all over one side of her face and neck. The side she had pressed to Aidan’s chest.
Holding out her arms, she looked down.
Blood—a lot of it—painted a sickening amount of skin on her arms and stained most of the front of her shirt. But she hadn’t been wounded.
Dana recalled the vision that had struck her when Aidan had kissed her hand the first time they’d met. The one of him standing before her with blood streaking across his face and neck. Of a deep slash opening on his chest. Another opening on his left arm, then his right. Of his hand, curled around hers, growing wet with blood.
She gasped, realizing that—like the vision with Roland—the vision of Aidan wounded had shown her what would happen tonight. She had thought the vision a glimpse of Aidan’s past. He had even implied it was by describing exactly where the wounds had been on his body. How could he have known that if it hadn’t happened yet?
Oh. Right. He had read her mind.
A bell tinkled as the door opened and Aidan entered.
As Dana stared up at him, she registered all the things she had been too overcome with shock to notice a few minutes ago.
Blood splattered his face and neck. His shirt bore a long tear across his chest, the fabric parting enough for her to see jagged flesh covered with blood. Both his coat sleeves bore similar tears.
Aidan wiped the swords clean with his shirt, then tucked them into hidden sheaths sewn into his coat’s inner lining.
Holy crap, there were a lot of weapons in there. Swords. Daggers. Throwing stars.
Did he always carry around that many weapons?
When he let the coat fall back into place, her scattered thoughts refocused on the tears that marred it.
Raising his head, he caught her look and froze. Dread crept into his somber expression. “Have you changed your mind? Am I not welcome?”
“You’re hurt,” she blurted. Badly. How was he even still standing?
Brow furrowing, he glanced down like someone who had stepped in dog doo and only just realized it. His gaze shifted to her, skimming her face and bloody arms. “Oh.” He winced. “Sorry about that.” Crossing to stand in front of her, he reached into a back pocket and drew out a startlingly white handkerchief.
Cupping her chin in one warm, wet hand, he began to wipe the blood from her face.
“Are you serious?” she exclaimed. He thought she was upset about his getting blood on her? What the hell?
Swatting his hands away, she gripped one of his wrists, turned, and headed resolutely past the reading room.
“Dana?”
Upon reaching the door to the stairwell, she hurried up the steps to her apartment and drew him after her through the first doorway on the left.
What she had always considered a roomy bathroom felt almost cramped with Aidan in it. Releasing him, she opened the largest cabinet and took down the basket that held her first aid supplies.
“Dana?” he asked again, his voice both hesitant and concerned.
Slamming the door shut, she snagged Aidan’s wrist again and pulled him across the hallway to her bedroom.
“Dana—”
“Sit down,” she ordered, nodding toward her bed.
He cast it an uncertain look. “I can’t. I’ll stain the covers.”
She stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?” He sported deep wounds that bled profusely and he was concerned about staining her bedding?
“Perhaps if I cleaned up a wee bit—”
“Sit your ass down,” she ordered, pointing at the queen-sized bed.
Eyebrows flying up, he sat so swiftly she almost laughed.
The firm mattress bounced as the old wooden bed frame creaked beneath his weight.
Setting the basket on the bed beside him, Dana moved to stand before him and began to help him out of his coat.
Every movement must be incredibly painful for him. His shoulders moved back, stretching the skin of his chest and parting the edges of that ghastly wound. The heavy fabric abraded the cuts on his arms as she carefully drew the coat down and, once it was free of his hands, let it fall to the covers behind him.
“Dana,” he murmured.
“Please don’t say anything,” she implored softly. She needed quiet. Needed to focus on just tending his wounds so her mind could have a chance to catch up and process everything.
He nodded, watching her warily.
“Now your shirt,” she said and bent to grab the hem of his T-shirt.
Without a word, he raised his arms so she could tug the sodden black material over his head and drop it atop his coat.
The hard, muscled chest she had snuggled against and run her hands over and fantasized about so much bore a deeper gash than she had anticipated. The cuts on his arms were pretty scary, too. Surely such wounds required more than butterfly closures and bandages. He needed stitches.
She raised her eyes and met his. “Any chance I can talk you into letting me take you to the emergency room?”
He shook his head.
She had thought as much.
Spinning around, she left the room and ducked into the bathroom again. It only took her a moment to grab a couple of towels and wet them. Then she returned to the bedroom. Tossing one towel onto the bed, she knelt in front of Aidan. “I could lie and say we were in a car accident.” If he was worried about the hospital calling the police…
“I can’t go to the hospital,” he told her softly.
As gently as possible, she drew one of the wet towels across his chest, removing the blood so she could better view the damage. The wound she revealed was nauseatingly deep, but—much to her surprise—seemed to have stopped bleeding.
Dana frowned as she dabbed the edges with the towel. “Because you’re wanted by the police?” He had been adamant earlier that she not call 911.
He covered her hand with his to halt her ministrations. “Because I heal quickly.”
She steadfastly kept her eyes focused on his chest. “Aidan, these wounds are serious. I’m not going to just sit here and watch you die.”
“I’m not going to die,” he promised. Taking the towel from her, he grasped her hand and drew her up. “Sit with me for a moment and you’ll see.”
Dana stared at him. Inconceivable though it might be, he seemed okay. Except… “Your eyes are glowing,” she whispered, mesmerized by the amber light.
The corners of his lips turned up in a sad smile. “I won’t die. But the wounds do hurt.” Still holding her hand, he urged her to sit beside him on the bed. “And right now my emotions are too tumultuous for me to make my eyes stop glowing.”
She frowned as she perched on the edge of the bed. “Strong emotion makes them glow?” He had already told her that, hadn’t he, when they were outside?
“Yes. That and pain.”
Reclaiming the towel, she gently drew it down his arm, starting at his shoulder.
“Dana—”
“Just let me do this, okay?”
He clamped his lips shut.
“I have a lot of restless energy right now,” she explained, “so it’s either this or pacing, because I need to do something while my mind tries to catch up with things.”
A moment passed.
“As you will,” he acceded.
The silence that descended then was painful.
One of the things she had liked about Aidan from the beginning was that there had never been any awkward or uncomfortable silences when they were together. She didn’t think she had ever experienced that with a man before. Especially when she was initially getting to know one. With other men, there had always been those instances in which she wasn’t sure what to say or if she should say anything at all. Moments when the silence seemed to stretch a little too long.
But with Aidan, she had felt so comfortable around him from the beginning that their time together had always felt refreshingly natural, as though they had known each other since childhood and were merely reacquainting themselves with one another after several years of being apart.
This silence, however, was heavy with words unspoken, thick with concern and other emotions she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Fear, perhaps, that everything would be different now.
Fear that they had lost what they had only just found.
She cleaned both of his arms, the white towels turning pink and red from the blood. Setting them aside, she glanced at her first aid basket, then finally met his eyes.
They still bore the faint remnants of that surreal glow.
She supposed it should scare the hell out of her because it clearly indicated he was something more than human. Yet the amber light peeking out from his dark brown irises fascinated her.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“I know they aren’t bleeding anymore, but I feel like I should at least put a Band-Aid on them. Or maybe fifty.”
He shook his head. “They’re already healing.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?” Dana lowered her gaze to his chest. Her heart jumped as shock rippled through her.
The edges of the wide-open gash that had spanned his chest, cutting deeply into his pectoral muscles, had drawn together while she’d tended his arms.
Her pulse picked up. “That’s not possible,” she whispered, barely able to produce a sound.
“Keep watching,” he instructed softly.
Was that sadness she heard in his voice? Resignation? Something else?
Dana didn’t ask, her eyes glued to that angry red slash.
She didn’t know how much time passed. How many minutes. A few or a lot. But beneath her astonished gaze, the deep laceration sealed, healed, formed scar tissue, then faded away until his chest was once more unmarred.
Dana reached out and touched his warm skin, smoothed her hand across his muscles where the wound had been, and found no evidence that it had ever existed. When she ran her fingers up and down his biceps, she discovered that they, too, had healed completely.
She looked up.
Aidan’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.
When she withdrew her hands and clasped them in her lap, his lids lifted.
“Your eyes are really bright,” she murmured. He had said such resulted from pain and strong emotion. Since his wounds had healed, she didn’t think pain still plagued him. So that left emotion. “What are you thinking?”
Shaking his head, he forced a smile. “Just hoping and praying that won’t be the last time I ever feel your touch.”
She didn’t doubt his sincerity. His beautiful eyes were full of dread and sorrow.
“You’re different,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“You should have told me how different.”
A mirthless laugh escaped him. “When?” he asked helplessly. “On our first date, when you expressed such unease upon discovering I’m telepathic?”
She bit her lip, feeling a tad guilty over that. She knew firsthand how hard it was to tell people you were different, the negative reactions that usually resulted, and how crappy it could make you feel.
“Or during that first reading you gave me?” he continued before she could respond. “When you told me my lifeline was the longest you’d ever seen, should I have told you it’s because I’ve lived far longer than anyone else you’ve met?”
She stared at him. “How long have you lived?”
Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead as though an ache slowly built there. “Please, don’t make me answer that. Not now. Not yet. It will only make this more difficult.”
Really? How old was he?
He had said he’d lived far longer than anyone else she’d met. She assumed that included grandparents. So how long had he lived? A hundred years? A hundred and fifty? Two hundred? How was that possible? And how could he look so young and heal at such an astounding rate?
“What are you, Aidan?” she forced herself to ask. Please say human.
Sighing, he lowered his hand. “We call ourselves immortals.”
Crap.
“But we aren’t truly immortal. We just”—he shrugged—“don’t age and are very hard to kill.”
With his rapid healing ability, she would imagine so. “Are you an alien?” She felt ridiculous asking it, but he clearly wasn’t human. “I mean, how did you come to be like this?” She motioned to his smooth chest.
“I’m not an alien. I began my life the same way you did. I was born a gifted one.”
“What’s a gifted one?”
“Someone who is born with advanced DNA that lends them special talents ordinary humans lack. Your psychic abilities are a result of the advanced DNA with which you were born. And that DNA was passed to you from your parents. Much like mine was by my mother.”
“I don’t have advanced DNA.”
“Yes, you do. All gifted ones have advanced DNA. It’s the source of our gifts.”
“Gifted ones?” she repeated, stressing the s. “Are you saying there are more people out there with special gifts?”
“Yes. Many more. All my brethren possess them. And there are thousands of others.”
Every time she thought he couldn’t confound her more, he did. “Wait. Are you saying Sheldon and Tracy—the couple I met on our first date—have special gifts? Is that why your telepathy was no big deal to them?”
He shook his head. “Neither Sheldon nor Tracy are gifted ones, but the men and women they work with are. Or were, before they became immortal.”
“What about the others you introduced me to?”
“Martin and Evie are gifted ones. Martin is like you and can see the future. Evie is an empath and can feel others’ emotions.”
“And the rest?”
“Étienne, Krysta, and Sean are gifted ones who have become immortals.”
“They’ve become immortals? How does one become immortal?”
“By being infected with a very rare symbiotic virus that behaves like no other on the planet. When one is infected with it on a large enough scale, the virus conquers, then replaces, the immune system, giving one the speed, strength, and healing abilities that will enable it—and its host—to survive as long as possible.”
She grimaced. “It isn’t like those snake things in Stargate that live in their host’s stomach, is it?” Gross.
“No. It’s nothing like that. It really is a virus. It just behaves unlike any other we’ve seen.”
“Why?”
“Our doctors and scientists are still trying to puzzle that out.”
Dana pondered his words. “So Étienne, Krysta, and Sean are like you? They heal superfast, can outrun the Flash, and have glowing eyes?”
“Yes. Étienne is telepathic. He has fewer scruples than I do and can be a nosy bastard. So whenever you’re in the same room with him, you can pretty much count on him reading your thoughts.”
“You say that as though you think I will be in the same room with him again at some point.”
“Krysta can see auras,” he continued. And Dana found the evasion unsettling.
“Wait.” She frowned. “Auras? You mean those glowy things some people claim surround the body? Those are real?”
“Apparently so. And her brother Sean can heal with his hands.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“So he can just lay hands on a wound and heal it?”
“Yes.”
Okay. That was actually kind of cool.
Aidan’s look turned guilty.
Or guiltier.
“What?” she asked, already dreading whatever he would say.
“Now might be a good time for me to tell you that I can heal with my hands, too.”
Again she stared at him.
“I did tell you,” he hastened to add, “the night of our first date that I had more than one gift.”
She thought back to that night. Had he?
I’m not pretending. I do have a special gift. More than one, if you’re to know the truth of it.
Yes, he had. But Tracy and Sheldon had come up then. And Dana had been so surprised by their casual acceptance of his telepathy that she had forgotten.
“You did,” she confirmed.
He seemed only slightly relieved to hear it.
“So you can heal with your hands?” she asked. Why, she wondered, did that seem less believable than the other revelations he had made?
He nodded.
Leaning over, Dana reached behind him and rummaged through his coat. When her hand found the hilt of a dagger, she curled her fingers around it and removed it from its sheath.
Aidan eyed her warily when he saw it. “What do you plan to do with that?”
She drew the sharp blade across her palm, cutting a deeper gash than she had intended. “Ow! Shit!” she cried, dropping the dagger. “That hurt more than I thought it would.”
Aidan’s eyes flashed bright amber. “Are you mad, woman?” Reaching for her wounded hand, he cupped it in one of his and turned it up so he could examine the damage.
Blood spilled out of the deep cut and filled her palm.
Swearing, he pressed the palm of his free hand to hers.
“Seriously,” she gritted, “how the hell could you act like your chest and arms didn’t hurt? Your cuts were way deeper than this one, and this hurts like hell.” It really did.
Aidan’s hand heated, becoming as warm as a hot-water bottle.
The pain in her palm decreased, then vanished altogether.
“I’m used to it,” he commented absently as he lifted his hand and peered down at her palm.
Dana did, too, and couldn’t believe her eyes. The wound was gone.
Grabbing one of the damp towels she had used on Aidan, she wiped her palm clean.
No wound. No scar. Nothing.
“Holy crap,” she whispered and stared at him with no little awe. “You can heal with your hands.”
He shrugged, his lips turning up in an adorably sheepish smile. “Amongst other things.”
She groaned. “Aidan!” she complained. “You can’t do that!”
“Do what?” he asked, all innocence.
“Tell me you can read minds and don’t age and heal quickly and can heal me, then—just as I’m beginning to process all of that—imply there’s more.”
He winced. “There is more. Quite a bit, I’m sorry to say.”
She sighed. “It’s times like this I wish I were a heavy drinker.”
He laughed. “Shall I pop over to the liquor store and fetch you some scotch?”
Amazingly, amusement flitted through her. “No, thank you.” Then she frowned as she recalled the ultra-tall, scary guy with the long hair appearing out of thin air earlier. “When you say pop over there, you don’t mean—”
“I can teleport,” he announced matter-of-factly.
Her mind went blank. “Oh, come on!” she nearly shouted.
Aidan laughed.
And she had to admit, despite everything, that it was good to see his handsome features lighten and his eyes lose some of their sobriety.
“Please, tell me you’re joking,” she begged, “and that teleportation only happens in sci-fi movies.”
“I’m not and it doesn’t. You saw Seth teleport earlier tonight.”
“Seth was the giant with the long hair?”
He grinned. “Yes. He’s our leader or commanding officer.”
“And he can do magical stuff, too?”
“There’s actually very little Seth can’t do.”
“What about Roland and the woman? They were immortals?”
“Yes. Roland can heal with his hands. And his wife Sarah has prophetic dreams.”
She sighed. “This is a lot to take in.”
“I know.”
“Too much for you to mention on a first date,” she admitted now that her brain was starting to process everything. “Or a second. Or even a third.”
“Such was my thought.” Slowly, as though he expected her to jerk away, he reached over and covered one of her hands with his. “It’s also a lot for me to trust you with, Dana. These secrets are not solely my own to share. We’ve worked hard to keep knowledge of our existence—of your existence, of gifted ones, immortals, and our advanced DNA and abilities—a closely guarded secret. Our lives and the lives of many others depend upon it. And each time one of us trusts someone with that knowledge, we make our brothers more vulnerable.”
She could see the truth in that. Society had always, it seemed, been dominated by people who would rather hate, harm, kill, or exploit those who were different from them than seek to learn from them and live in peace. “But you’re immortal. How vulnerable could you be?”
He squeezed her hand. “Remember, I said we’re mostly immortal. We can still be killed. Two of my brothers were slain not long ago when our secret was shared with the wrong people. A third immortal nearly lost her life as well.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to tell you all this sooner.”
“I guess I can understand why you didn’t. But I can’t help feeling a little hurt that you didn’t trust me with it.”
“Had it only been my secret to share…” Brow furrowing, he combed the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “Hell, I probably still wouldn’t have told you. I care about you, Dana. More than I was beginning to think I could, if you’re to know the truth. I’ve enjoyed so much our time together. Every minute we’ve shared. And I feared losing that if I told you and you found it all to be too much.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out in a long sigh, then turned her hand over and twined her fingers through his. “Okay. You can read minds, heal superfast, teleport, don’t age, can heal other people with your hands, run superfast, are superstrong and can make your eyes glow.”
“The last is more of an involuntary response.”
“Is there anything else you can do?”
His face crinkled up in a Welllllllllll, now that you mention it expression.
She groaned. “Just tell me.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch you that scotch first?”
She laughed. “No, thank you.” His reluctance to confide more didn’t anger her. Oddly, it made her feel better, because she believed him when he said it didn’t stem from distrust but from a fear that she wouldn’t want him anymore if she knew it all.
“I have telekinetic abilities, too,” he confessed. “I just don’t use them very often.”
“You can move things with your mind?”
“Yes.”
“Will you show me?”
A pillow suddenly leapt up and hovered a couple of feet from her face.
Dana gaped. “What?” Even though she had expected something of the sort, it still shocked her.
Aidan’s look turned mischievous a second before the pillow flew forward and gently bounced off her face.
Dana burst out laughing and caught the fluffy projectile as it fell to her lap. Slinging it playfully at Aidan, she hit him in the face.
Aidan grinned, fell backward as if she had hit him with a fist instead, then sat up again.
“That is so cool.” Much cooler than prophetic visions.
He shrugged modestly.
“Can you only move little things? Or can you move bigger things, too?” she asked.
Turning toward her dresser, he stretched a hand out toward it dramatically.
Dana watched the dresser. After a second or two, it began to vibrate.
She sent Aidan an encouraging smile.
He winked.
Then Dana rose into the air.
Shrieking in surprise, she threw out her arms but found nothing to grab.
Aidan laughed.
When she looked down at him, he twirled his index finger.
Dana laughed as she spun in a circle, then floated down onto his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Still smiling, she slid her own around his neck.
“Still like me?” he asked softly, the glow in his eyes failing to hide the vulnerability that lurked there.
She nodded.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
“No.” Whatever his abilities, he was still Aidan.
Her Aidan.
Closing his eyes, he hugged her tight and buried his face in her hair. “Thank you.”