Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
He closed off his mind to the worry of her health and focused solely on the connection he knew was between them. At first, he couldn’t find her. He tasted her. A slow burn of need and desire. An explosion of fire and passion. She smelled of a blend of lavender and something else with a citrus undertone he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A coppery taste intruded. The passion and fire gave way to fear. Fear gave way to terror.
Dark. So dark. Hard to make out the figures through the veil between them. Shush. You have to be quiet. Be still. Absolutely still. Be part of the cliff.
Gideon recognized Rory’s voice, although she sounded like a child. A very young child. She was shaken. Her voice trembled, although she was very firm. He couldn’t see her. It was more as if he were looking through her eyes. Someone was with her. Either Rory or the other person was wounded.
Shadowy figures moved past them. Close. So close he could see they were grown men and they carried automatic weapons. Gideon felt as if he could reach out and touch them.
Useless. You’re utterly useless. The voice was harsh. He recognized that voice. Dr. Peter Whitney. The man from hell.
A chorus of protests, young girls’ voices drowning out the next thing that abrasive and severe voice snapped before Gideon could hear it again.
Take them out, all but her. There was a long silence while Whitney’s order was presumably obeyed. Then he began berating Rory again. They could have all been killed because of your utter incompetence. If you cared enough about them to work harder, you wouldn’t endanger them, but you’re just too selfish and lazy.
Despair. Guilt. Self-loathing. It was difficult to breathe, but the determination not to wheeze, not to allow the sound to be heard, was paramount in young Rory’s mind. She did her best to control her inability to find air while Whitney’s voice continued to insist she was worthless and she had nearly gotten everyone killed. Whitney called for the guards and told them to escort Laurel up to her room, and he told her she should stay there and come up with reasons he should keep her around.
Gideon felt the heavy weight of each one of her steps on the stairs. The airless, stuffy room, hot and miserable, filled with layers of dust, making it impossible to breathe adequately.
Hot tears tracked down Rory’s face, and he felt each one. She walked to the other side of the room, where a tiny square of a boarded window let the night in.
Alarm shot through Gideon as he read the intent in the child’s mind. The girl in the nightmare wiggled a board loose, something it was clear she had worked on for some time. She stepped out onto the ledge. In real time, Rory, trapped in her nightmare, stepped to the ledge of the three-story building.
Rory. Wake up. Wake up now. He called to her imperiously. Commanded it. At the same time, Gideon didn’t hesitate.
Uncaring of his injured body, he leapt to the very edge of the wide concrete railing that surrounded his rooftop. Flinging his arms wide as if he might fly off, he called on every owl in the vicinity and sent them flying straight at the woman he considered his. He had to use his body as well as his mind to direct them. His heart and lungs. His entire focus. His very being so he became the owls.
Screeching, the raptors complied. Wings beating hard, they flew at Rory’s face and around her body, pulling up sharply at the last minute. Gideon felt her wake, disoriented at first but gripping the railing tightly and then stepping back, panic in her mind.
8
The music seemed overly loud, and for some reason, Rory couldn’t turn it down in her head the way she normally could. Noises didn’t get to her because she controlled the volume in the way she mysteriously did a number of odd little things she had come to take for granted. Tonight, she had a pounding headache that just wouldn’t go away, and the noise level in the bar seemed to increase with every hour she worked.
She’d always had nightmares, but lately the frequency was escalating. Waking up to the sound of Gideon’s voice and owls flying at her head as she stood at the very edge of her rooftop terrified her. If she hadn’t awoken, would she have fallen to her death? Yes. The answer was yes. There was no doubt in her mind. The spot over her left temple burned and hurt like hell. The strange sensation had grown into pain. The pain had worsened with each nightmare until it was like her nerves were too close to the surface.
“You okay, Rory?” Dana asked in a whisper as she collected drinks to take to her tables.