Rubin swept her into another place, somewhere she hadn’t known existed and hadn’t ever dreamt of. She had lived her life with fire inside her, terrified it would get out. Those terrible electrical charges that could call down the lightning from the sky. Rubin was fire. He set the world around them on fire. He kissed her with absolute command. With confidence. Without fear. There was gentleness. Tenderness. Fiery heat. But never fear. He didn’t leave room for that emotion.
Jonquille felt truly alive for the first time in her life. The lightning in her sizzled and crackled, singing in her veins. Rubin tasted feral, a wild predator, an untamed lover. She tasted his lust for her. His need of her. His absolute desire for her. He didn’t try to hide those things from her. Heat sizzled between them. Electricity crackled. White-hot flames danced on the ground and spun in a blue circle of flames.
Rubin pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, working to get his breathing under control. “We really might set the forest on fire, Lightning Bug.”
Jonquille laughed softly, her fists in his shirt, her heart hurting so much. He really was the best of the best. She was going to stay for a few days with him and just let herself be his partner. Just pretend she could keep him. Then she would know exactly why she was hunting and killing everyone who dared come after this man.
6
The wind blew through the canopy, throwing all sorts of patterns of light on the ground. On the forest floor, leaves were still, the trees so thick it was nearly impossible to penetrate. In most places in the mountains, Rubin knew it was no longer that way due to all the logging, but these lands had been mostly spared. What had been logged had been replanted, and the growth had been fairly fast.
He looked down at Jonquille’s face. She was so beautiful to him and she looked so much a part of the woods, as if she belonged. He found himself smiling when he hadn’t felt happiness in so long, he couldn’t remember the feeling. His threaded his fingers through hers and turned away from temptation.
“Can you feel the storm coming?”
“Yes. There’s always a kind of pull on my body.”
Her voice was extremely soft. She had a way of turning her words. Not an accent really, but he liked the sound. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. A little shiver ran through her body. She was very susceptible to him in the way he was to her, and he was grateful he wasn’t alone in the intensity of his attraction.
“Mine too,” he conceded. “Most likely in a different way. Part of the reason I came early was to conduct a few experiments. I knew we were expecting a series of intense thunderstorms. I would like to see a few patients. Luther Gunthrie lives down at the very bottom of the mountain. He’s gotten up there in age and I’m always afraid I’ll find he’s passed sitting at his still. I like to check on him. He still considers me a twelve-year-old boy, but he lets me see to his ailments. Rose and Thomas Carter have a farm on the other side of Whiskey’s Point, and they have several children. They were kids when Diego and I were young.”
“I presume they’re a little more modern than Luther Gunthrie.”
Rubin glanced down at her. The early morning sun hit her face with a bright beam through the trees, lighting up the blue of her eyes. She looked a little mischievous. A little fey.
“Everyone is much more modern than Luther,” he assured her. “Then there’s the Sawyer family. I’m very fond of them.”
“I can hear that in your voice,” Jonquille said. “What is it about them?”
“It’s important to see Patricia Sawyer. She married my brotherin-law Mathew, a couple of years after my sister Mary died. She raised Mary’s son as her own. Patricia lost Mathew a few years ago to cancer. I tried to save him, but it was pancreatic cancer and it was too far advanced by the time I discovered it. Patricia’s special. You’ll see when you meet her.”
Regret swept over him. They had come to the edge of a small clearing. Many of the animals came here to drink from the stream. He indicated the flatter rocks sticking out from where a larger tree had uprooted during a winter flash flood. Jonquille seated herself and he sank down beside her, tucking her in close to his body to provide warmth. She was dressed for the early morning hours, but they were exposed to the wind now and the gusts were biting cold.
“Rubin.” Jonquille’s voice was very gentle. A whisper of sound.
He looked down at her. Those vibrant blue eyes stole his breath. Her gaze drifted over his face as if he was really important to her. As if he mattered. Not the rare psychic surgeon. She didn’t even know that about him. Not the healer. Not even the man who could direct energy from her. Just the man. She saw the man. Him. Rubin Campo. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone other than Diego saw inside of him and he counted for something.