Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(75)

Her hands came up to cover his. She was trembling. He knew she was afraid to face what must lie ahead for them. She’d taken steps out of the safe world that had been created for her. There was safety in not caring too much, not being involved too deeply. Dahlia had strict limits she set for herself and she stayed within those limits. He was dragging her further and further out into the open.

He brought both of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. Kissed her palm. He wanted to make it better for her, take away the sting of not knowing love for all those years. He wanted her to recognize the real thing. He didn’t dare speak of it, he knew she’d bolt. He was getting to know her now, the sudden spurts of terror that woke her in the middle of the night. “Where were you going?”

There was a small silence. “The roof. I always feel better when I go up to the roof.”

Why did he hate the thought of her spending so much time in the middle of the night sitting out on a roof? He hugged her closer to him, scattered kisses through her hair. “Stay with me, Dahlia. Just lie in my arms and let me hold you. I’d say we’d leave the door open, but our friendly alligator is getting more and more passionate out there. I don’t want him to visit us.” Nicolas drew her back toward the bed. There was some resistance, but not much. She went with him, one slow step at a time, almost as if she were testing herself.

Dahlia went with Nicolas because she couldn’t resist him. He seemed to have a very negative effect on her self-control. She wanted to spend every moment with him because someday soon, she would be alone again. It was already too late to protect herself. It had never occurred to her she would find herself falling for him. The very thought of it made her slightly ill. She had learned to enjoy her solitary life. There were hundreds of benefits. She just couldn’t think of them when she was wrapped so tightly in his arms. When he was touching her with such tenderness she ached inside.

Dahlia allowed him to tug her into the bed beside him. She fit her body into the curve of his and instantly felt contentment. It shouldn’t have been that way, she should have felt just the opposite. She never allowed anyone to touch her, and she spent only short periods of time with people, yet she wanted, even needed to be with Nicolas. And that was terrifying.

His arms crept around her, his fingers tangling with hers. “Stop shaking.”

“Are you as afraid as I am?” Maybe it was admitting too much, but she had to ask. She had to know.

“Of course I am. This is new territory for both of us, Dahlia. I’m as vulnerable as you. I honestly don’t know how you got in, but I need you with me.”

“I’m not very lovable, Nicolas. I know that. I accepted it a long time ago.” When there was only Whitney standing in the dark telling her she was uncooperative and she wouldn’t ever get to have the things the others got. Even then, even as a child, she rebelled against that hard, absolute authority. She taught herself things didn’t matter. People didn’t matter.

Nicolas buried his face in the silken tangle of her hair and inhaled their mingled scents. “That’s not true, Dahlia. There was nothing wrong with you as a child, and there isn’t anything wrong with you now. Why do you think your nurse stayed all those years? Loyalty to Whitney? A pay-check? She was as isolated out in the bayou as you were, maybe more. She chose to stay with you, even if it meant deceiving you and living a limited life. She had no other children. I saw the earlier tapes, when you were a child. She was there, much younger, but she stood up to Whitney for you. And she was frightened by what he’d done.”

She rubbed her chin on his forearm. “You mean by the monster he created.”

“Not a monster, Dahlia. A GhostWalker. There are more of us than you know, and we are a family of sorts. You aren’t alone.”

She closed her eyes. She wasn’t alone at the moment and that was enough for her. Nicolas wanted to believe in fairy tales. She’d read her share, hoping for miracles, but in the end, there was no hundred-acre wood to play in with little stuffed animals. There was pain and crushing disappointment and betrayal. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to shed them, holding Nicolas close to her and allowing the rocking of his body to soothe her to sleep.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“Someone’s outside,” Nicolas whispered, leaning across her to get his gun. How he managed to be on the wrong side of the bed again was beyond him. He felt the familiar butt of the Beretta in his hand just as the front door opened. He shifted to put his body between Dahlia and the open door of the bedroom. They had slept far too late for it to be morning. Sunlight poured through the window along with the heat.

“I know you’re holding a gun on me, Nico,” Gator’s voice called from the front room. “Put it away. It’s not very nice when I’ve been so hospitable.” Suddenly Gator was framed in the doorway, grinning at them, his black, unruly hair tumbling into his face and his piercing blue eyes bright with laughter. “Oh, I see you are most friendly with each other. And Lily was so worried.” He turned his head. “Ian, Tucker, come look at this. Our man has found himself a little kitty cat.”

“Shut up, Gator, or I’m going to shoot you.” Nicolas put the gun away and looked down at Dahlia. She had the covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were enormous and getting bigger by the moment as more GhostWalkers crowded into the doorway to gape at the sight of Nicolas, the loner, in bed with Dahlia.