Alterant (Belador #2)(58)

She had to be prepared or she’d end up knocked out if he collided with her.

Where was he?

Nothing appeared disturbed.

Houseplants filled corners and anywhere else she could shine a grow light on them. Her ratty furniture hadn’t been reupholstered by elves during the night.

She moved quietly through the room in case an intruder had somehow overridden her security system, which was unimaginable. An intruder would need kinetic ability and the code, which she changed daily, to breach her system.

Only Tzader and Quinn knew the access to this place.

When she neared the kitchen and heard soft grunting sounds of concentration, she relaxed.

Feenix was safe.

One step into the stainless steel galley-style kitchen and she started smiling at the picture of Feenix sitting on the floor humming to himself . . . until she realized what he was doing. “Not my new pots!”

Feenix jumped up into the air, wings flapping and wide eyes flashing as bright as two orange turn signals. He made a strained honking noise.

Smoke curled from his nose in advance of blowing fire that could take out a concrete wall.

“Whoa, baby. Calm down. I didn’t mean to yell.” She knew better, but the only thing left of two pots from the set Quinn had just given her were the two wooden handles on the floor.

Feenix finally settled on the island countertop. His eyes drooped with worry. He tucked his wings and turned his head to look down at the mess on the floor, then back at her.

She glanced over at the box of scrap metal she’d left him that was only half eaten. He hadn’t been hungry, just mischievous. But she couldn’t lock up everything that looked silver when she was gone.

Or she’d be missing a stainless steel stove and refrigerator next.

She asked in a calmer voice, “What happened?”

His worried gaze searched the room for an answer, which might be tough, since his vocabulary was so limited. Then he smiled, as if he’d found the perfect word. “Ith a accthident.”

Good call. He’d only been here two days when he’d startled her and she’d dropped a drinking glass, shattering it. He’d gone into a panic flying all over the place, making scary noises.

The blasted sorcerer must have tortured him when anything had gotten broken, which had to have been often, since Feenix tended to be clumsy.

When she’d finally gotten Feenix to come down to the ground, she’d spent an hour soothing him. She’d explained how accidents happen and it was okay when they did.

She was not up to explaining the difference between misbehaving and an accident right now. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

“Yeth.” He chortled and flapped his wings, dancing back and forth in his version of happy feet.

She made a quick sandwich, ate, then carried Feenix to her bedroom, smiling as he counted from one to eight followed by ten then nine. He almost had the numbers right.

Leaving the lights off, she put Feenix on the bed and stretched out next to him. She’d shower later. When she closed her eyes, a whirl of images spun through her mind of Storm appearing in the jungle and Storm holding her while she teleported . . . and kissing her.

But that last kiss stayed with her, the one where he’d whispered, “Sweet dreams.” As if his deep voice, dark eyes, and firm lips had hypnotized her until all she could think about was kissing him again.

Her breasts ached, too.

Had he caused that?

Men didn’t affect her this way.

Why him?

She wouldn’t deny the feelings he stirred up in her body, but she would have killed a less resilient person in the tunnel today when she’d shoved Storm across the tracks.

When he’d plastered his body against her in the subway she’d tried not to react. But she’d been attacked in the dark. Shoved up against a wall and . . .

Her arms rippled, ready to change.

She closed her mind against the memories until her breathing settled down. She focused on Storm’s kiss and felt herself melt.

But Storm wasn’t a man who would be satisfied for long with kissing. She might not have had relationships—had never dated—but she knew where Storm thought things between them were heading and doubted she’d ever be able to open up that part of herself to anyone.

She should tell him the truth, that she couldn’t give him what he wanted, what any man wanted from a woman. She’d allowed him to touch her more than anyone else ever had, but some lines couldn’t be crossed again in her mind.

And as an Alterant, she was forbidden from anything even remotely close to mating.

Even if she was willing to take the risk and could handle the idea of intimacy, sex could trigger a violent reaction, far worse than today’s. She might shift and kill someone who tried to have sex with her.

Storm would have to understand that moving beyond a kiss required a level of trust she was incapable of giving. In fact, just thinking about it required too much effort until she got some rest.

Darkness filled in around her thoughts.

She’d almost fallen asleep when a voice whispered, “Trust is nourishment for a starving heart.”

Evalle sat straight up and opened her empathic senses.

There was no one in the room except her and Feenix.

She might have been dreaming, but it was the same female voice she’d heard while hunting the Kujoo. Except the last time she’d heard the voice inside her head, not spoken out loud.