Water Bound (Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart 1)

He saw past the belligerence to the real terror permeating her entire life. "Rikki. It would be impossible for you to start the fires, awake or asleep. You couldn't do it."

Rikki's frown deepened. "That's exactly what Lissa said. Exactly. With the same absolute conviction. How could either of you know that when I don't even know it?" She rubbed her palm down her thigh in agitation right along the path of the shimmering raindrop tattoo dripping down her leg, drawing his attention to it even though it was hidden. "I can't take the chance on your life, and you shouldn't want to either."

"It's obvious you're a water element. You're bound to water. You can't start fires. You can only put them out."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I like water, but I'm not bound to it. I just feel safer around it, and when I'm in the sea and the pressure of the water is all around me, I feel different--more normal."

"What in the hell is normal? Not you. Not me. I doubt if there is such a thing."

She regarded him as if he had two heads. "Of course there is normal. There are regular people."

He swung his legs up on the bed and stretched out, linking his hands behind his head. "Come lie down. There's no one close to the house. We're locked up and safe, and you need to get sleep." He patted the bed beside him.

She looked utterly shocked. "We can't sleep in the same bed."

"Why not?"

"Well . . . because."

There was that laughter welling up again. He found himself smiling at the idea of it. "You know, I don't think I've ever actually slept in the same bed with someone either. If I have, I don't remember, and it doesn't feel like I'd trust anyone that much."

"So why in the world would you trust me? Or why would I trust you?"

He kept his eyes locked with hers. He could stare into her eyes for eternity. "What the hell difference does it really make at this point, Rikki? I don't think we can hide from one another, do you? Whatever it is that connected us in that water went bone deep. I'm not getting you out of me anytime soon. So come lie down and just let it all go for the rest of the night."

"I'm not having sex with you."

His smile widened. "Thanks for the compliment. It never occurred to me you would think I'd be capable."

"You have unexpected abilities."

"I won't touch you. The bed's big. I imagine you'd be lost in this thing."

Abruptly she turned back to the kitchen. He heard her rattling around for a few more minutes. More hand washing. The woman loved water. She snapped off the kitchen light and moved a little reluctantly into the bedroom, eyeing him warily.

"I really don't mind sleeping in the swing."

"I mind it. It's raining out there, although that could be your fault. Just lie down and go to sleep. If anyone comes near the house, I'll know."

She stretched out on the bed, keeping several inches between them. It took several minutes before she began to breathe normally. He smiled at the ceiling, there in the darkness, while the scent of her enveloped him.

"Thanks, Rikki. I know this was difficult, letting me in. I don't believe or trust myself, and I sure don't know why the hell you saved my life and helped me, but I'm grateful." His voice was gruffer than he intended. He wasn't used to allowing himself to feel emotion, and just for a moment, there it was, clogging his throat and changing his tone.

She shrugged. "I can't imagine not being able to remember my past, although it might be a good thing. I might not be so afraid to go to sleep."

"I don't want to remember my past."

"You might have a family waiting for you somewhere, Lev. You don't want to leave them wondering. Believe me, until Blythe and the others came along, I'd forgotten there was such a thing as family. You don't want to be without one."

His heart contracted painfully. "I don't have anyone. No one knows me, Rikki. They don't see me, and they're not supposed to. I'm the kind of man who lives in the shadows."

"How can you know that for sure?"

Her voice was soft and got inside of him in spite of his determination not to allow her to come any further. He already felt too dependent on her.

"Because all I know is how to kill."

"You know how to dive. You're very experienced in the water."

"Why do you say that?" He asked curiously. She spoke with conviction.

"The way you acted under water. The water was cold, too cold. You were going into hypothermia. You had no air, no wet suit, and yet you didn't panic, not even when you were injured. It takes a lot of experience to behave like that when all the odds are stacked against you."

"But I had you to save me."

She turned on her side and, sticking her elbow on the bed, propped her head in her hand to look at him. "Anyone else would have fought me. I expected you to try to fight me for the air, but you were calm and you breathed with me and allowed me to get us to the surface, decompressing along the way. That isn't just unusual, it's downright rare. Even experienced divers can panic. It took a lot of nerve."

"And then I ripped out your radio. I'll fix it for you."

"I can fix my own radio. I'm not certain you knew what you were doing at the time."

That was the trouble. He'd known exactly what he was doing--had weighed the advantages and disadvantages of killing the woman who had saved his life. What kind of man did that? Not a good one. "I know you don't like people touching you, Rikki, but . . ." His fingers were already on her face, tracing every angle, stroking the softness of her skin, memorizing the details.

She held her breath, but she didn't pull away, as if sensing the deep need inside of him. He didn't understand his connection to her, and he doubted if she did either. Just for this moment, they declared a truce and just accepted that it was there. He had to know her face intimately, as intimately as he intended to know her body, but right now, this was enough. Mapping her face and imprinting it forever on his brain.

She suddenly smiled. He felt it through his fingers before he made out her expression. His body stirred in response. "You don't even know if you can fix my radio."

"No," he agreed, "I don't. But I can take apart a gun and put it back together again in seconds."

"I can see you'll be a big help on the farm."

As soon as the words slipped out, he could tell by the way she stiffened that her expectation of him staying with her had been entirely subconscious. Now that she'd spoken the thought aloud--given the idea life--she retreated back into her world, probably sorry she'd voiced the suggestion.

Satisfaction slid into his gut, a quiet happiness he rarely--if ever--had experienced. Just being in her presence made him feel different, more alive, more sensual, more of a man and less of a killer. Lying beside her should have set off every alarm in his body. He had sex, usually great sex, but it was a tool, and he was never comfortable afterward. He certainly didn't lie on a bed in a semi-vulnerable position and contemplate falling asleep with another living, breathing human being beside him. He knew it was completely alien to every survival instinct he had, yet he wanted her there. The thought of her sleeping outside, at a distance from him, bothered him on a primal level he couldn't explain, not to her and certainly not to himself.

He kept his eyes locked on hers. "I was thinking more like helping out on your boat."

He saw the shock, the instant rejection. She even shook her head. And that adorable frown was back, so that he couldn't help but smooth his fingers over the little lines between her eyes. He laughed softly. "I can see you're completely behind the idea."

"No one, and I mean no one, goes on my boat."

"I can understand that. But--" He put his finger over her pursed lips, imagining her kissing his fingers. The thought was fleeting, but vivid enough to cause heat to flood his body. He didn't seem to have control around her. "As reasonable as that would be, I've already been on your boat."

"You ripped out my radio."

"Which I intend to fix," he pointed out. "What's a tender?"

He felt her shoc

k. "A what?" she repeated, but she'd heard him the first time.

He waited in silence, but she had gone stubborn on him. He sighed, and although he was taking a chance, he rubbed her chin in the dark with the pad of his thumb. Once, he stroked a caress across her lips. She was definitely frowning and that made him smile.

"It isn't any great secret, is it? You said your sister Blythe told you that you shouldn't dive alone. She said you needed a tender. What is that?"

"Someone that would drive me insane. They take care of the boat and equipment, sort of keep watch while a diver is under water. They need a permit and have to know what they're doing. I trained a couple but kicked them off after a couple of dives. They're annoying. They don't roll my hoses the right way. And there is a right way. You do it wrong and they're all tangled."

Now that she'd come out with her opinion on the subject, he could see she was extremely hostile about the idea. She hadn't let on to Blythe, but she had no intention of diving with someone watching over her. He had a vague idea that he might change that. "Blythe thinks it's necessary."

"You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Blythe."

"Of course. Would you expect less?"

She opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it. "I don't want anyone on my boat and that includes you. You'd touch my things."

"I'll learn not to."

Her frown deepened and she narrowed her eyes at him. "You will not. You'll do whatever you want to do. You're one of those men."

"If I don't know what kind of a man I am, how could you know?"

"Because so far, you've been on my boat, in my house, touched my things, slept in my bed, and you're probably going to want food. You're demanding."

Laughter spilled over, startling him. A real laugh. Out loud. He sounded rusty, but it didn't matter. He was shocked at the sound, at the feeling, at the freedom he felt with her to laugh. "I suppose you're right about that."

She stared into his gaze, her eyes so black, there in the night with the moon hidden behind the clouds, that she appeared mysterious and elusive, like the storm passing overhead.

"You're damned beautiful," he said, before he could stop himself. "I've never met a woman like you."

A slow smile curved her mouth. He realized, like him, she didn't smile often. "How would you know? You can't remember who you've met and who you haven't. But in any case, thanks. No one ever says things like that to me."

A shadow crossed her face and he remembered the fiance, the man who had died in a fire. "Tell me about him. His name. What he did. How you met him." How he died and why you're so afraid you started the fires.

She blinked, looked startled. "I heard that. What you were thinking. You are telepathic. And you've made me weird, just like you. Okay . . . maybe I was already a little weird, but now I'm way worse than I already was. Am I going to hear what everyone's thinking? Can you hear my thoughts?"

"You aren't projecting them to me. And that was an accident. I didn't mean to have you hear that, but I honestly am interested."

Rikki laid her head back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her mouth set in stubborn lines. The sound of the rain hitting the roof and windows seemed to drain the tension from her. He could tell she was listening to it, and while she listened, her fingers began to react, tapping against her leg. She didn't seem to notice, caught in the spell of the rain falling.

Lev remained silent, realizing this was a part of Rikki's nature. Certain things--especially anything to do with water, he supposed--took her outside herself, and she focused completely on whatever captured her attention, tuning out everything else around her, tuning out him. His first thought was to bring her attention back to him, but before he could speak, her hand went up and she began to weave patterns in the air, just as he had done when directing healing energy, although her designs were more like those of a conductor with a large orchestra.

At once he detected a difference in the pattern of the rain. The beat changed and then the resonance, the sound, depending on where each drop landed and how fast or hard. He found himself holding his breath. Her control and power were extraordinary, and she didn't seem to notice she was directing the rain. His brain computed her patterns, recognized and spit out the data for him. She was drawing the layout of her farm in the air and directing the heaviest parts of the storm where she wanted it.

The rain over the grapevines was soft and gentle like the sounds of flutes and clarinets. The rain in the trees and along the creek banks where the ferns grew was much more dramatic. It pounded down to saturate the area and feed the voracious redwoods, the other evergreens and the flora growing in the forest throughout the farm. The garden was treated with a melody of patterns spread out over the various vegetables and herbs, in a symphony of violins and other instruments.

Rikki was so deep into her concentration and focus--obviously completely forgetting him, her surroundings and everything else--that he began to pick up images from her mind. Entire sections of the garden were dedicated to pharmaceutical plants, to plants for making various dyes, to all sorts of flowers, to vegetables of all kinds, and there was another section for herbs. There was an olive grove and an orchard with apples. It was amazing how clear the images in her head were--with exact coordinates, like a map. Just as the map in his head was laid out in grids, so was hers.

He closed his eyes and let the music of the rain soothe him. He could feel her breath, hear the soft variations in her breathing when she changed each chord, when she played one area differently than another. He began to sort the various sounds and rhythms. It was an orchestra of drops, a miracle performance. He would bet his last dollar--and he was fairly certain he had a great deal of money--that the farm was doing extremely well thanks to Rikki's ability to call the water and change how hard or soft it fell.

He turned his head again to watch her face. She was so caught up in the musical aspects of her orchestration, the actual sounds of the drops, he doubted if she was fully aware of what she was doing--if at all. And he doubted, even if anyone else observed her, that they would recognize what she was doing, the enormity or significance of it. Who would ever suspect she was manipulating the rain?

He turned the idea over and over in his mind. She "called" water to her. She couldn't manufacture the water--it had to be available--but she could control it. Rikki was so lost in the wonder of playing that she didn't notice when he got up and went to the window, shoving it open so he could see the silver sheets of rain falling from the sky. The sight was breathtaking. He turned back to look at her. She was breathtaking--extraordinary. She was such a rare phenomenon that he could barely believe he'd discovered her.

A gust of wind drove the rain into the house and dotted his chest, shoulder and arm. He knew he'd felt rain a thousand times, yet it felt like the first time. The wonder Rikki experienced when she touched water spilled over to him through their strange connection. The raindrops were sensual against his skin, velvet tongues lapping at him. The liquid was cool, his body hot. He could feel each individual drop.

More than the sensation on his skin was the way the liquid felt as if it seeped deeper. There was first a tingling along nerve endings, and then a rush, like a dam opening inside of him. He went very still and allowed the phenomenon to engulf him, to spread like a tidal wave inside of him. He felt renewed, happy, clean and balanced.

Lev turned back to the bed, leaving the window open. He loved the sound of the rain and knew he'd always associate the sound with Rikki. Her face showed signs of exhaustion. She'd worked hard beneath the water, hauled him out of the sea, given him CPR and been up most of the night. Even playing as she was, manipulating water took tremendous energy. He knew she hadn't eaten anything since she'd brought him to the farm. It was no wonder she was so thin.

He stretched out again, shaping his body around hers, careful not to touch her or disturb her, but he sent a "push" to get her to sleep. He used a very delicate, gentle touch, one designed to allow her to drift off slowly, unknowing.

While he waited for his suggestion to work, he contemplated the tragedies in her life.

If someone had deliberately set those fires--and it was too much of a coincidence to think it wasn't intentional--was her ability to control water the reason? Had someone realized Rikki was an element with tremendous power, even when she was just a child? She hadn't said how old she was when the first fire had occurred, but she'd been in two foster homes and then was in a state-run facility. Someone had killed her fiance using fire, the opposite of water. Who wanted her dead? He was convinced someone did. And if so, why the long gaps between the attacks, and why fire?

Her hands dropped to her side and her lashes fluttered. He smiled down at her. "You've come back to me."

She looked around her. "You're still here."

Her voice was drowsy, her eyes slumberous. She'd definitely crawled inside of him and wrapped herself tightly around whatever was left of his soul. He wanted to look at her all night--the rest of his life, for that matter. He found peace in her.

"Yeah. I'm here. I don't think I'm going anywhere soon." If ever.

He should go. Whatever he was, he was violent and deadly, and definitely trouble for her, but . . . He looked around the room. She had a bed, a dresser and a night-stand. The bare minimum. It was that way in every room.

"How long have you lived here?"

She thought about it. "We closed the deal on the farm just before Lexi's nineteenth birthday and she just turned twenty-three, so just about five years. The orchards were already in, and part of the main vegetable gardens. The houses were on the property, but they were all in bad shape. We remodeled ourselves and extended the garden. Last year we put in two greenhouses, a fairly large one for vegetables and one much smaller for flowers. The farm has really done well and produced for us."

It was the most forthcoming she'd been about her life, and he heard the pride in her voice. She loved the farm.

"Who did the work on the houses?"

"We did. All of us. We started with Lexi's house. She needed to feel safe. It was important that she had a home, a place that was hers. Judith, she's our artist, is amazing with a hammer. Between Judith, Lissa and Airiana, we were able to do just about everything ourselves. And Judith helped each of us decorate."