Olivia climbed out of bed. When she took a step, her foot tramped down on the bristles of the hairbrush, and she winced. Bending, she retrieved it with a shaky hand before returning it to the dresser. How had it gotten from where it belonged to the floor beside her bed if he hadn’t carried it? She knew she hadn’t gotten out of bed and brought it over. She knew she hadn’t been brushing her own hair. Or had she done those things without acknowledging them?
As confusion swirled in her head, she swung her gaze around the room. Although it was too dark to see colors, she knew what they were. She had decorated this private space in soothing blues and greens to make it into a sanctuary, a place where she could shut out all the people she didn’t understand and didn’t want to deal with. Now it felt strangely empty. Would the man come back if she called him? Was he lurking somewhere nearby? Or perhaps he was still in the room, invisible but waiting to see what she would do now.
She climbed back into the bed, pulled up the covers, and slid down so that her face was partially obscured. After a few moments, she decided that if she thought she was going back to sleep any time soon, she was kidding herself. She was too off balance for that. She had sent the man away because it had seemed like the only sane course of action. And he had gone, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.
The man? She had told herself he was some kind of ghost or spirit. But he had taken on a different reality. Not because she’d vaguely seen him when he’d done that trick with the lights. It was their conversation. As they’d talked, he’d taken on a personality that had only been a hint at the beginning. He had a history, feelings, and needs—just as she did. And he’d told her she could fulfill those needs.
Could he do the same for her? Too restless to lie in bed, she got up and walked to the window, where she stood staring out into the night. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was four thirty in the morning. Really, she should try to get some sleep. But she knew it was too late for that. If she took some medication now, there was no telling when she was going to get up.
As she stared through the window with unfocused eyes, she couldn’t help thinking that she had made a mistake. Her visitor had offered her the thing she had always craved. And she had been too afraid to accept the offer.
After dithering for several minutes, she whispered into the darkness.
“If you can hear me, come back.”
At first, nothing happened and she felt disappointment settle over her like a heavy cloak. Then she sensed a presence behind her.
“Where were you?”
In the darkness. Waiting and hoping that you’d change your mind.
She wanted to be angry that he had been confident enough to linger nearby. Instead, she was secretly glad.
No, it wasn’t secret. She couldn’t keep a secret when her thoughts were open to him.
That was a strange concept for a woman who had never felt a deep connection to anyone. And here she was, totally open and vulnerable.
She caught the warmth of his body behind her and told herself he couldn’t be a ghost if he was warm. Reaching back, she touched his chest, her hand encountering what felt like a T-shirt. Sliding farther down, she found rougher fabric. Jeans, she thought. She’d wondered if he would be naked. It seemed that he was dressed in ordinary clothing.
“How do I know you’re not going to get me to…to want you to stay here and then disappear?” she heard herself ask.
He sighed. “I guess you can’t. But the more we…” he stopped and searched for a word, “interact, the more I’m anchored to you.”
“What does that mean?” she shot back.
Several seconds passed before he answered. “When I first woke up, there was nothingness all around me—except that I sensed you and moved toward you. Then I found you, and I wasn’t in the darkness any longer. I was back on earth.
“You weren’t on…earth when you were in the darkness?”
“I don’t think so.”
When he began speaking again, she sensed that he hated that admission. “Things began to change. First, I just watched you.”
“I knew you were there.”
“Then I caught you when you fell. I was surprised that I could do it.” He seemed to drag in a breath and let it out. “Each thing we did, each thing we said, made me feel more real. I mean, when I was in the darkness, I could hardly sense myself. Now, if I hold up my hand, I can see it. Or I can look down and see my feet. I feel them, too. And I can touch you and feel you.” There was satisfaction and wonder in his voice.
The admission sent goose bumps peppering her skin.
She thought back to when she’d first been aware of him. He’d been a vague presence. Something hovering around her that she couldn’t quite identify. Then they’d spoken…touched…and he’d become more solid. How far could she go with that? There had to be a limit. No matter how much she craved it, it was a leap too far to believe that she could make him real by the force of her will.
“Is it?” he asked.
She cursed herself for the kind of blind hope that blossomed inside her. But okay, maybe she couldn’t do it alone. What about together? How far could the two of them take this?
She knew he caught the thought. Knew he sensed her fear that she would be embracing the madness she had always feared?
Not madness. An opportunity—that no one else has. As he spoke, he pressed the front of his body against the back of hers, teaching her every hard line of his form.
She felt heat coming off of him—transferring itself to her.
When he stepped away, she had to stifle a cry. Swiftly, she turned to face him. It was still dark in the room, but now she could see him more clearly than she had before. He was wearing the jeans and T-shirt she had touched earlier, like a man who had dressed for outdoor work or perhaps simply a leisurely morning around the house. Well, what did she expect, choir robes?
An opportunity, he repeated.
“Like what?”
He held up his hand, moving it closer to her, and she saw little sparks flickering around his fingers. She raised her own hand and felt the sparks leap from his fingers to hers.
“Oh!”
The sensation tingled along her nerve endings, not just her fingers but spreading through her body.
“Don’t.”
Are you afraid?
I should be.
You like it.
She wanted to lie, but she knew there was no point in forming those words—not when her thoughts were so open to him.
Why not take the next step?
She had always felt less than normal. Now her phantom was offering her the opportunity to be more. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should be afraid. She pushed away the fear and embraced what he was offering. Even if this whole illusion ended when the sun came up, she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she walked away now.
That might be a rationalization. Yet she knew she had made a decision.
Sensing her agreement, he closed the distance between them. When he opened his arms, she came into them, feeling his well-muscled body again. But that wasn’t all. Now she felt the erection straining at the front of his jeans, telling her what he wanted. She closed her eyes and lowered her head to his shoulder, clinging to him, deliberately shutting out her sense of sight again.
With her eyes closed, the reality of him overwhelmed her. The sensation of her lover holding her in his arms was perfect, and when his hands stroked up and down her back and reached to caress the curve of her bottom, she felt heat flare in every cell of her body.
A small voice in her mind told her she was crazy to be doing this. But the voice was wiped out by the sensations coursing through her. Unable to hold still, she moved against him, striving for more intimate contact.
When he turned her in his arms, she cried out in protest until he made his intentions clear. His hands came up to clasp her breasts, cupping and shaping them before he found her nipples and drew his thumbs across them.
She felt wet heat between her legs, more heat than she had ever felt in her life. Her breathing accelerated, and she found she needed to drag in air to keep herself grounded. It didn’t help that somewhere inside her head, a pain throbbed in time to the frantic beating of her heart.
She might have pulled away, but he held her fast. She was still dressed in the T-shirt and yoga pants she had worn to bed, but they were no impediment to his maddening fingers. He reached right through her clothing, and she felt his touch on her naked flesh.
When his fingers brushed against the tight points of her breasts, she wanted more. He obliged, taking her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pressing and twisting, increasing the need for even more.
“That’s right, let yourself feel everything I can give you.”
Hearing the husky words was a spur to her arousal. She wanted that. She wanted everything he was offering.
“Lord, you are so sexy.”
“It was never like this before.” Her own words came out as a gasp. Not with anyone.
Again, the thought skittered through her mind that she was so alone that she had driven herself crazy. But his voice in her head soothed her.
I want this as much as you do. For myself. Not because you invented me.
Want what? Exactly.
We should find out. The silent voice hitched. Or should I stop?
She should end the madness before it went any further. But she was way beyond making rational decisions.
When he heard the decision in her mind, he clasped her shoulders.
Take off your clothes.
Why? You can touch me through them.
I want you naked.
I’m standing in front of the window.
There’s no one out there to see.
Without giving herself time to think, she did as he asked. She felt his warmth behind her, and in front, the coolness coming from the window glass. It made her nipples pucker more than they had been before.
Again, his knowing fingers did the things she craved, wringing a cry from her.
She had gone this far with some of the men she had dated. She had even had one disastrous night in bed with a guy she met at a bar, after she’d drunk enough to stop thinking about what she was doing. It had never felt good enough to want to continue. But he was bringing forth feelings in her that she had never experienced before.
It wasn’t simply sexual need building inside her body. Her mind was tuned to his more solidly now.
He knew exactly what she needed, and he was giving her what she craved. As she arched against him and her arousal built, she drew knowledge from his mind. Knowledge that had been hidden from him.
There was a moment of startling understanding for both of them.
She was the one who spoke, feeling excitement sweep over her. “Your name is Travis. Travis Carson. You have a boat named The Far Horizon.” And she knew that he had picked the name because of a longing that he had known he could never fulfill. Until now.
The reality of that insight seemed to explode inside her, and with the throbbing came a headache that was almost unbearable.
She felt him start to pull away in fear—fear for her. God, what am I doing to you? I have to stop.
But her instinct was stronger than his fear. No! If you do, you’ll make it worse.
A kind of desperation seized her as she grabbed one of his hands and pulled it to her center—the part of her that most needed his attention.
You’re sure.
Don’t stop.
Responding to her urgency, he pressed his fingers to the throbbing place between her legs, then slid downward through her wet folds. She felt two fingers slip deep inside her, stroking in and out in a maddening rhythm.
A small part of her mind wondered how he could do that as he stood in back of her. But most of her didn’t care how he was doing it. Frantically, she moved her hips against his hand, striving to find satisfaction.
“I know. I know,” he answered, as he pressed and stroked, his every move guided by her unspoken needs. She caught his exaltation as he brought her higher and higher, and she sensed that he was experiencing what she felt in his own body.
He kept up the maddening attentions, one hand at her center, the other playing with her breasts until she felt an explosion of sensation shake her, rocking her being.
She collapsed back against him. If he had not been holding her, she would not have been able to stand. She leaned against him, her breath coming in gasps.
Across the room, she heard a sharp crack. Her eyes flew open, and she saw shards of glass from the bulb in the bedside lamp. As the noise faded, the sparks she had seen before swam around the room in an excited dance.
“My God, what?”
“Something spectacular.”
It had been that, all right. She had experienced an orgasm the likes of which she had never imagined, and with that came a stab of guilt.
“You…”
“I felt it through you,” he answered. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life. All through my body, not just a spasm in my cock.”
The sparks around them had faded. He held her up as she wobbled toward the bed and fell onto the horizontal surface, where she lay with her eyes closed, breathing hard.
He came down beside her, gathering her to him.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“I think I’m the one who should do the thanking.”
“Not worth arguing about.”
She lay in his arms, still trying to take in what had happened. She felt different now. The headache had vanished like a storm cloud after a torrential shower, and she knew that something momentous had happened to her.
Far away in New Orleans, Rachel Gregory wavered on suddenly unsteady legs and dropped the tarot card she was holding.
Her husband, Jake, was instantly at her side. “Rachel, what is it? Are you sick? What?”
When she didn’t answer, he swept her up in his arms and lowered himself into a comfortable chair where he cradled her in his lap.
She had come to her shop because she had sensed something strange happening, and she needed her cards to help her figure out what it was. Jake had come along because she was acting strangely, and he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.
She nestled against him, dragging in drafts of air. Ever since they’d met outside the murder scene of a clandestine operative, they’d forged a bond that neither one of them had ever expected to experience.
Both of them had been alone—just like all of the children born from the crazy experiments of Dr. Douglas Solomon. His fertility clinic had been a way to obtain human embryos he could use to create super-intelligent children. The experiment had failed. And when the government cut off his grant money, nobody realized that his brain experiments had created something else: telepaths who felt utterly unable to form a meaningful relationship with anyone until they met another of Dr. Solomon’s children. Then everything changed—for the spectacularly better or spectacularly worse. Either they forged an unbreakable bond, or they died together in bed from a cerebral hemorrhage.
Rachel and Jake, along with a small group of other telepaths, were the lucky ones. At least lucky that they had survived and bonded. The downside was that they’d found themselves pursued by evil forces bent on controlling them or wiping them out.
The couple spent about half their time at the colony of telepaths they’d established at the plantation Gabriella Bordeaux had inherited from her mother. The rest of each week, they were in New Orleans, where Jake attended to his restaurant and antique business, while Rachel did tarot card reading in her shop in the French Quarter.
Rachel blinked up at her husband. “I’m all right,” she murmured.
“What happened? Did…did you sense another couple making it past the initial crisis?”
Rachel had extraordinary mental powers and seemed to sense when two more of Dr. Solomon’s children had forged a link to each other. This time, she looked perplexed.
“What?” Jake pressed.
“It’s not like with the others.”
He grimaced. “Are…are you saying that one of them made it through their first lovemaking—and the other didn’t?”
“No, that’s not it.” Rachel licked her dry lips. “It wasn’t the same as with us or any of the others. I think…I think…”
When she hesitated, he urged, “Just spit it out.”
“Okay, I know it sounds impossible, but I’m pretty sure one of them was already dead.”
His curse filled the small room, “You must be mistaken. How could…a living person bond with a deceased one?”
“I’m just telling you what I sensed, although I could be dead wrong.”
“Dead wrong. Yeah.” His laugh wasn’t quite steady. After several moments of hesitation, he asked, “Um, which one…um…do you think is a ghost?”
She could tell from his shaky voice that he wasn’t entirely committed to the concept.
“I’m not sure. They’re pretty far away.”
