The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(96)

Two weeks later Lexi went to the trees to think. The air was damp, the ground still wet from the storm that crashed against the cliffs during the night. She huddled against the trunk of a wind-twisted pine and stared out at the ocean below. He crouched several yards away, just watching. He was in his lion form, the color of the dusk. Lexi pulled her shoulders up, turned her face into the setting sun and hoped he wouldn’t try to reach her telepathically. She wouldn’t be able to endure it.

But the silence stretched out, and when Lexi heard nothing she wondered if it had been an ability she’d only had at the villa, a temporary effect from the surge of power that he’d pushed into her mind. It was then that the wave of loneliness became profound. She didn’t feel him approach but shuddered when he slowly lowered himself at her side, placed his head in her lap. She stretched out her hand, let it settle, her fingers stroking his mink-soft ears.

She couldn’t look at him, continued to stare out to sea. But she took comfort in the low rumble deep in his chest while her hand moved across the soft fur.




Lexi didn’t sense his presence again. Days, and then weeks passed, and it made her angry that he would come and then disappear—who the hell did he think he was?

But she missed him. Missed his deep laugh, the feel of his arms. She wondered if they could find a way around the manipulation. No, probably not, since Three anticipated everything. The immortal used human emotions to achieve her desired result; nothing Lexi felt could be trusted to be real. Perhaps she and Christan merely suffered through the same obsession in every lifetime. That was why they’d slipped from bad to worse and then to total destruction. A dream built on smoke could never last.

During the day Lexi thought about the villa, wondered if he was there or if it had been completely destroyed. If Gemma’s garden had been trampled into blood and mud.

During the night she thought about Zurich, wondered how it ended when he’d gone to war. She wondered if he’d found Kace, or if the slimy bastard had gotten away.

But she hoped Christan had killed him, long and slow. Then she hoped Kace would come back to life so Christan could kill him again.

Her anger grew irrational. She didn’t care. Maybe it was the effect of the blood bond. Three mentioned Christan wasn’t the only one to benefit from the bond—she’d gotten something from it, too. She should have asked what those benefits were, besides the suggestion that she could shield herself. Lexi had no idea what that meant, and her anger grew irrational again, until she didn’t care about anything except learning how to forget.




March arrived, and Lexi sat outside more often. The weather was still horrible, but she loved sitting in the Adirondack chair wrapped in a mohair throw, with a cup of coffee in her hand. Loved watching the waves and the birds always looking for something, swooping over the silvered, foamy water.

She hadn’t felt him close for over a month. She tried to hold him in her heart, but the feeling was elusive, as if he was drifting away. She wished she was brave enough to love him even though her mind told her it was time to let him go. To just open her hand and let... go.

She closed her eyes, struggling with the emotions—and the coffee mug was no longer in her hand. It had sailed through the air to smash against the wall, knocking loose a cedar shingle and disintegrating into tiny shards. Stunned, Lexi looked at the wreckage, then down at the tingling sensation moving around her wrist. She hadn’t thrown the mug; her arm never moved from the wide armrest of the Adirondack chair or dislodged the mohair throw wrapped against the chill. And her heart began to thud.

It happened again a day later. A book she was reading went sailing out of her hand.

And again, with a can of beans that flew out of the cupboard and ended upside down on the stove because she’d been thinking about cooking dinner.

But she didn’t start to panic until Robbie came by to deliver the groceries and she heard his thoughts in her head. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, clutching a container of tomatoes with her heart thundering in her chest. She tried to set the tomatoes down but there was something odd about her hand. She looked and saw one dark claw extending from her finger.

She screamed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Ten minutes later she heard Marge's voice.

“What happened, Robbie?”

“I don’t know, love. We were in the kitchen talking. I was helping her put the groceries away and she started screaming. I followed her, knocked, but she won’t come out.”

“Should I talk to her?”

“Someone has to.’

“Are you sure about what you saw?”

“I’m sure.”




Their voices resumed twenty minutes later.

“She won’t talk to me but I can hear her crying.” That was Marge; Lexi recognized the motherly concern.

“Keep trying,” Robbie said. “I’ve called Arsen. He said it could take time to get here.”

No, Lexi thought desperately, not Arsen. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She started to panic again, looked around. The window was too small to squeeze through and Marge was outside the door. No easy escape. Maybe she’d just imagined that claw extending from her hand. Her fingers all looked normal now. But Robbie had seen it too, and she knew that was why he’d called Arsen.

“I’m frightened,” Marge was saying, her voice starting to waver.