Part of him wanted to sit her down and tell her all that she had forgotten about him. To lay it all out in the open. Start fresh, if they could.
Yeah, he imagined that little talk would go down about as smoothly as a glass of tacks. And it certainly wasn't a conversation he intended to strike up while she was still impaled on the resurgent length of him.
As he deliberated over the deepening complication he was making with Tess, a growl rumbled in from the open doorway. It was a small noise but unmistakably hostile.
Tess shifted, pivoting her head. "Harvard! What's the matter with you?" She laughed a little, sounding shy now that the intensity of the moment was broken. "Um, I think we may have just traumatized your dog."
She ducked out from the cage of Dante's arms and grabbed a terry bathrobe off a hook near the door. She slipped it on, then bent down to retrieve the terrier. Scooping up the animal, she got an immediate and vigorous chin-washing. Dante watched them from under a hank of his dark hair, relieved to feel his features coming back to normal.
"That dog has certainly made a quick recovery under your care." A dramatic turnaround, Dante was guessing, and one that seemed too quick for normal medicine.
"He's a scrapper," Tess said. "I think he's going to be just fine."
Although Dante had been concerned that she would detect his feral appearance, he realized he didn't need to worry. She seemed intent on avoiding looking at him directly now, as if she herself had something to hide.
"Yes, it's amazing how the animal has improved. I'd call it a miracle, if I believed in such things." Dante watched her closely, curious and not a little bit suspicious. "What exactly did you do to him, Tess? "
It was a simple question, one she probably could have satisfied with any number of explanations, yet she all but froze in the bathroom doorway. Dante sensed a sudden, swelling panic begin to rise in her.
"Tess," he said. "Is it such a difficult thing to answer?" "No," she replied hastily, but the word seemed to strangle in her throat. She shot him a fleeting, terrified look. "I need to... I should, um... "
With the dog held tight in one arm, Tess brought her free hand to her mouth, then pivoted and made a fast retreat out of the bathroom without another word.
By the time she got to the living room and put the dog down on the sofa, Tess was pacing, feeling trapped and lacking air. God help her, but she actually wanted to tell him just what she'd done to save the little dog's life. She wanted to confide in Dante about her unique, damning ability--about everything --and it terrified her.
"Tess?" Dante came out right after her, a towel slung and knotted around his hips. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She gave a shake of her head, forced a smile that felt too tight for her mouth. "There's nothing wrong, really. Do you want anything? If you're hungry, I made chicken for dinner. I could--"
"I want you to talk to me." He caught her shoulders in his hands and held her still. "Tell me what's going on. Tell me what this is about."
"No." She shook her head, thinking about how desperately she'd kept her secret and her shame. "I'm just... You wouldn't understand, okay? I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Try me."
Tess wanted to break away from his penetrating eyes but found she couldn't. He was reaching out to her, and a part of her needed so desperately to grab hold of something solid and strong. Something that wouldn't let her down.
"I swore I would never do it again, but I... "
Oh, God. She wasn't really going to crack open that ugly chapter of her life for him, was she?
It had been her secret for so long. She had protected it fiercely, had learned to fear it. The only two people who knew the truth about her ability--her stepfather and her mother--were dead. It was a part of her past, and her past was miles behind her.
Buried there, where it belonged.
"Tess." Dante eased her down onto the sofa next to Harvard, who clambered onto her lap, tail wagging with eager joy. Dante sat beside her, his hand caressing her cheek. His touch was so tender, so warm. She nestled into it, unable to resist him. "You can tell me anything. You are safe with me, Tess, I promise you."
She wanted to believe that so badly, hot tears welled in her eyes. "Dante, I... "
A silence stretched out to some long seconds. When the words failed her, Tess reached over to where the hem of the towel split over Dante's right thigh, exposing the gash on his leg. She lifted her gaze to him, then held her palm over the wound. She focused all her thoughts, all her energy, until she felt the healing begin.
Dante's injured skin began to fuse together, sealing as cleanly as if the damage had never occurred. After a few moments, she drew her hand away and cradled her tingling palm against her body.
"My God," Dante said, his voice low, dark brows knit into a deep frown.
Tess stared at him, uncertain what to say or how to explain what she'd just done. She waited in terrible silence for his reaction, uncertain what to make of his calm acceptance of what he'd just experienced.
He traced his fingers over the smooth, uninjured skin, then looked back at her. "Is this how you do your work at the clinic, Tess?"