Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

He raised his coffee cup. “Coffee’s just brewed, if you’d like a cup.”

The urge to run was almost overwhelming.

“I’d love to, but …” She hesitated, then shrugged. The best excuse was usually the truth. “It’s been a long day and it’ll just keep me awake. Thanks for the offer, though.”

He pushed away from the door frame and took several steps toward her. “I thought I heard something break as you came in …”

Again, though his voice was conversational, his dark eyes were intense, watchful.

Something odd was going on.

She licked suddenly dry lips. “You … you did?”

“Yeah. It sounded like glass breaking.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to sound calm. “I didn’t hear anything like that.” And if he had, why didn’t he mention it the moment he came out?

“Really?” He took a sip of his coffee, then glanced up the stairs. “Maybe I should check your room before you go up. Make sure it’s safe.”

The last place she wanted this man was in her room. She shook her head and tried to smile. “I’ll be all right. If anything’s broken, I’ll give you a call.” But not until morning, when there’s more light and a lot more people around.

“I’ll be up in a moment to check the other rooms, so I’ll be nearby if you need me.” He hesitated, then raised his cup. “ ’Night.”

She watched him disappear into the parlor, then turned and almost ran up the stairs. Her hands were shaking so much it took several tries before she could get the door unlocked. She quickly locked it behind her, then sagged against it and took a deep breath.

What was it about that man that made her so afraid? Or was Jayne right? Had she locked herself away for so long that she’d simply forgotten how to interact with people?

Maddie rubbed her eyes, then walked across the living room toward the bedroom. She stripped off her poncho and then her jacket, dropping both in a heap by the bed. Then she kicked off her shoes and removed her socks. A cold breeze ran around her ankles and she glanced in the direction of the bathroom.

Had a window broken? She hesitated, then cursed herself for doing so. What was she afraid of? A little broken glass?

Opening the bathroom door, she switched on the light and looked in.

Jon lay sprawled on the floor—wet, bleeding, and surrounded by glass.

HE WAS ALIVE—SHE COULD TELL THAT MUCH FROM THE RISE and fall of his chest. But he was so pale he could very easily have passed for the ghost she’d once mistaken him for. She quickly knelt down and felt his forehead. His skin burned, despite his lack of color.

“Jon?” She ran her hand down his stubble-lined cheek and lightly pinched his chin, trying to get some sort of reaction from him.

He groaned and opened his eyes. The power of his vivid blue gaze pierced her heart.

“Madeline.” His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, yet she heard surprise in it. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what? Sorry for being such a bastard back in the forest, or for landing in a bloody mess on her bathroom floor? And just how had he managed to get back here so quickly?

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes,” she said in an effort to organize her thoughts.

He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. “I’ve got dry clothes inside.”

Inside? What was he talking about? She frowned and wondered if, in his delirium, he’d wandered into the wrong room. Yet that didn’t explain the broken window or the fact that he’d somehow gotten past her locked door.

“Let’s get you off the floor,” she said, deciding to tackle one problem at a time.

He nodded weakly, obviously hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

“Stay with me, Jon,” she said softly.

Again he nodded. Was he fully aware of what she was saying or merely nodding every time she finished speaking?