cousin.
Toying with her coffee mug, she watched him reach the docks and turn her way. Her pulse leaped. Surely he wasn’t coming to see her? With suddenly unsteady hands, she lifted the coffee mug, forgetting its role as paperweight. A gust of wind tore the copied acquisition record out from under the lifted cup and sent it soaring over the rail and into the water like a dying moth.
Autumn’s jaw dropped at the unfairness of her life, then clamped shut with a snap. “Hell’s bells.” She lunged to her feet, looking for something to help her fish the paper from the water before it disintegrated. She spied the long, metal boat hook hanging from the side of the cabin and grabbed it, but the brackets were stiff with rust and refused to let go. With a growl, she curled her fingers around the metal, took a deep breath and yanked as hard as she could.
“Hello.”
The boat lurched behind her at the exact moment the long hook came free. Turning toward the deep, masculine voice, Autumn stumbled, the boat hook swinging wildly in her hands. Before she could catch her balance, the metal struck her visitor in the head with a sickening thud. The very man she’d been drooling over!
With a groan, she squeezed her eyes closed. If only she could be someone…anyone…other than Autumn McGinn.
Chapter 2
Kaderil snatched the cold metal weapon from the woman’s hand, his muscles tensing in preparation for counterattack even as his brain screamed for caution. Human. Fragile. She could do him no damage unless she was Sitheen and knew the death curse.
Was she Sitheen? Is that how she’d so quickly seen through his facade?
The boat rolled lightly beneath his feet, forcing him to adjust his stance for balance. But as he prepared for battle, watching for her next move, his opponent inexplicably closed her eyes. An oddly pained expression crossed her face, confounding him. Was this how she drew her power? Even Sitheen were known to sometimes possess the power of the Esri.
The loud hum of a motorboat on the water sounded in the distance as he waited, muscles bunched, but his gaze never left her face. A detached part of his brain couldn’t help but admire the rare beauty of this human with hair the color of fire, and freckles that dotted the pale perfection of her skin like tiny golden jewels. All his life he’d been surrounded by the white-skinned, pale-haired Esri, the standard of true beauty in his land. But he was finding his eye preferred the more varied, more vibrant coloring of humans. And this woman’s was the most vibrant of them all.
Her eyes opened. He tensed until he realized their clear gray depths shone not with the light of battle, but with regret.
Kaderil stared at her with wary confusion, freezing when she reached for him not with fists or claws, but with the softest of fingers closing around his wrist.
“I’m so sorry.”
Sorry? He watched her, bemused, and allowed her to tug him from the rail.
“Let me look at your head. I can’t believe I hit you.”
She stood half a head shorter than him, yet she pushed him into the flimsy woven chair with ease, so stunned was he by her reaction to him. Women feared him. He demanded their fear! Yet this one dared treat him like an injured child.
Anger, and some dark emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge, had his muscles bunching to right this wrong, but his lucid mind stopped him cold. He must pretend to be human. A nice human, worthy of trust.
He forced himself to remain motionless. To submit. But when her fingers eased into his hair, his hands curled around the chair’s arms until he heard the crack of plastic and felt the sharp bits flake beneath his fingertips. He never let others get this close. Never.
“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, but I’ve got to find the cut.”
She would find no bleeding gash, of course, but a human would let her look. And he must, as well, no matter how difficult.
He sat as still as the statues that dotted the human’s city, his senses finely tuned to the intriguing creature hovering over him. Her warm, spicy scent filled his nostrils, sliding through his body, sparking an awareness that surprised him. Her fiery braid drew his attention, the color as hypnotic and exciting as the deadly fire it resembled. His gaze followed the sensuous curve of braid across her shoulder and down to where it teased the tip of one well-mounded breast.
His senses swirled in sudden chaos. She stood too close, confusing him with her gentle touch and lack of fear, ambushing him with the unbidden and unwelcome stirring of desire. She was human. He tried to rise, to escape the assault to his senses, but she pressed him down with a perilously soft hand.
“Wait. I haven’t found anything. You’ve got to tell me where it hurts.”
He was about to assure her he felt no pain, to escape this tender assault, when his warrior’s mind reasserted itself, chastising him for allowing the woman to distract him from his mission, even for a moment. He must find out if she knew the Sitheen Larsen Vale. Or whether she was a Sitheen herself. A probe of her mind would tell him much.
He reached for her hand, slid his fingers over hers and nearly forgot what he was about. The sensual chaos focused, his every sense suddenly attuned to that meeting of flesh. Warmth flowed from her hand into his, a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of skin against the chilly air, and everything to do with the woman herself. A warmth that traveled up his arm and spread through his body in a flush of awareness that shifted the very foundations beneath his feet.
“Can you show me where it hurts?” the woman prodded.
Kaderil groaned. The woman muddled his mind.
“Here,” he said, moving her palm a mere hand’s breadth upward. “It hurts here.” He used the opportunity, the skin-to-skin contact, to probe her mind, but what flowed into his head was scarce and strangely garbled. Of no use whatsoever.
Kaderil frowned. The woman wasn’t Sitheen, for if she were, he wouldn’t be able to breach her mind at all. What, then, was blocking him from her thoughts?
The woman tugged her hand loose, her fingers burrowing tenderly through his hair in search of damage. “I don’t see anything.” She leaned to the side, her thick braid swinging free as she met his gaze. “Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should see a doctor.”
The intensity of the worry in those pleasing features made something pull oddly in his chest. “The pain has receded,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
She looked so unhappy, he was almost sorry he had no wounds to offer her.
“Yes.” More than sure. He was immortal. Even if she’d split his head open, the flesh would have quickly mended and she’d have found nothing.
“Good.” Relief flooded her eyes as she released him and stepped back. She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets, retreating into a charming shyness. “So…what can I do for you…other than clobber you in the head?”
His lips twitched. The desire to smile startled him. How long had it been since he’d felt such a need? He grunted with annoyance. He had no time for such foolishness.
Kaderil rose to his full height. “I’m looking for Larsen Vale.”
