Touched by Light Read online

  “You’re such a liar, Julia,” came a voice from behind her.

  Her head snapped up, and adrenaline shot through her like neutrons in a particle analyzer. God, she knew—and hated—that odd, rasping voice. Her body went rigid, while her heart decided she must be running a three-minute mile and went into frenetic overdrive. Her cool logic and acute analyzing ability evaporated in the muddle of shock and incredulity.

  No! Not now. She fixed her gaze on the gleaming brass beer tap behind the bar. Willed that voice to be the result of her overstressed state—although she knew her current luck was on the crappy side of negative one. “Go away,” she said.

  He didn’t reply, but she felt the air shift as he settled onto the barstool beside her. Felt that disconcerting energy buzz that always arced between them, felt the spike in her normally dead-as-dirt libido. Felt the beckoning warmth emanating from his body, in direct opposition to the power and danger he radiated.

  She refused to look at him. If she couldn’t see him, he wasn’t really there, right? But that didn’t convince her clamoring senses, which had gone on full alert. His scent drifted to her—expensive, woodsy, totally male. That damned electricity continued bombarding her. Her nipples hardened and she grew damp between her legs. Damn him.

  “I said go away,” she snapped. “Does it work better if I say it three times? Go away, go away, go away. Go. Away!”

  “That’s six times, actually. And no, you can’t will me away. Besides, I came from Corpus just to see you.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Great. Exactly what I needed today.”

  “I take it you’ve had a tough day.”

  “It just got worse,” she muttered.

  Miriam returned then, before Julia could bring herself to look at Adam. The young woman set the drink down, her gaze going to him, her expression surprised. He was quite striking, and since the bar wasn’t crowded, there was no reason for him to be sitting beside Julia. She was dowdy and ordinary, not in high demand as a flirtation partner.

  “Can I get you something?” Miriam asked.

  “I’ll take a Glenmorangie scotch, if you have it, straight up.”

  Miriam nodded and left. Julia clutched her drink, considered slamming it down in one gulp.

  “It would be nice if you would look at me.” His rough voice washed through her like a nuclear shock wave.

  She turned her head, glared into cool, midnight eyes. “What are you doing here, Adam?”

  He stared back, as always, calm, intelligent, and—as she well knew—utterly ruthless. His ebony hair was short, meticulously combed back from his high forehead. His features were harsh, aristocratic, with the exception of a surprisingly sensual mouth. The expensive black Italian suit was a perfect foil for his ultraconservative and autocratic persona, while the single diamond glittering in his left ear seemed incongruous.

  “I need your help, Julia.”

  This man had the ability to make her crazy, to evoke emotional responses that ran the gauntlet from sexually aroused to enraged. He threatened her on levels she didn’t even want to acknowledge, especially after today’s developments.

  “And I need a new identity and a new life in another country,” she retorted. “Sorry, but you’ll have to find assistance for your woo-woo endeavors elsewhere. I’m currently occupied with other matters.”

  She took a gulp of her drink, almost choked as the burn spread down her throat. “And how did you know I was here anyway?” She returned her glare to him. “Playing stalker? Isn’t that beneath you?”

  “Ah, Julia, you’re as blunt and entertaining as ever. I’m not stalking you, merely keeping track of you.”

  Tracking, stalking—basically the same thing. She’d already been there, done that, twelve years ago. “Listen psycho-Sentinel, what I do with my life and my time is none of your damned business. Go away and leave me alone.”

  His expression remained neutral. That was another thing she despised about him—his utter lack of emotional reaction. But then, he wasn’t really human. “Actually, I’m a Sanctioned, as I have previously explained. And you are my business, Julia. I’m responsible for every Sentinel and conductor in Texas.”

  “News flash—I am not a conductor. Not in thought or deed. Been there, done that. I helped you track down a crazed bomber and watched my sister get sliced up by that bastard. I’m done. And if I correctly understand the Sentinel code of honor, you can’t force me to help you. So go back to your cave.”

  “I’m not leaving, Julia. Like I said, I need your help.”

  To hell with that. He could sit there all afternoon and watch her get soused, for all she cared. Miriam returned with Adam’s drink and Julia took the opportunity to finish hers. “I’ll take another.”

  “Not unless I’m driving you home,” Adam said.

  His arrogance upped her inner rage level. “The odds of that happening are about the same as solving Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

  His ebony brows arched. “Hasn’t that been done?” He sipped his scotch, his fingers long and elegant around the glass.

  Damn, the man has to be brilliant as well as annoying. “It’s still being debated, and it’s taken well over three hundred years to get this close. You are not driving me anywhere .”

  “Then we’ll settle the tab,” he told Miriam.

  She hesitated, glanced to Julia for confirmation. Not a problem. There were hundreds of bars in the Houston area, and any that were sans Adam Masters would do for Julia’s purposes. Better that she was closer to home, anyway. Then she could call a cab if she needed to.

  She nodded at Miriam. “It’s all right. Be sure you pad the total a few times over. He can afford it.”

  She fumbled for her cane, glad Adam had sat on her left side and hadn’t thought to confiscate it. It was a good thing for him that using the cane to get as far away from him as possible was a higher priority than smacking his hard head with it. She slid off the barstool, balancing her weight on her good leg, as Adam gave Miriam a fifty-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

  He moved to block Julia as she started toward the door. “We’re not done here.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” She started around him.

  He didn’t touch her—they both knew that often had undesirable repercussions. But his next words stopped her cold. “I know William Bennett will be released from Huntsville Prison in two days.”

  So did she; that cold, impersonal call earlier this afternoon had dropped the bombshell. And wasn’t the Texas Department of Criminal Justice considerate to inform victims when their tormentors were let loose, not to mention its annoying habit of releasing violent prisoners simply because of overcrowding?

  She swayed on her feet, pounded by an emotional barrage. “I’ve been waiting for you, Julia.” The man stepped from the kitchen of her home in Kingwood. He moved toward her, an ordinary-looking man with a monster’s soul. “You’ve been going out again, Julia,” he said in a soft voice. “Even though I told you not to. I was watching. I saw you flirting with those men. Why did you disobey me, Julia?”

  It took a major effort to push back the memories, to pull together her scattered psyche and deal with Adam. She managed an attempt at levity. “You really know how to make a girl feel safe and secure, you know that?”

  His eyes were cold pools of black menace. “I will keep you safe. You can count on it.”

  From psycho-Sentinel to macho-Sentinel—make that macho-Sanctioned. “It’s not your problem.” She turned and made her way out, cursing the fact that her bad leg made her about as fast as a giant Galapagos tortoise on a slow day.

  “The hell it isn’t,” he muttered.

  Although he moved silently, she was acutely aware of him following her. Her entire body tingled, and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. He’d told her the reaction was caused by an electromagnetic current that formed between matched Sentinels and conductors and an ensuing sexual surge through the chakras. She’d told h
im that was a bunch of crap, with no scientific basis whatsoever. Even though she now knew better.

  There was no denying the heart-pounding, visceral reaction she always had when he touched her. And when he’d kissed her at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport . . . Surely her reactions had to be exacerbated by the fact that she’d been celibate for twelve years. Deprivation could do strange things to people.

  So could desperation. As she reached her car and fumbled inside her purse for her keys, Adam was far too close for comfort. She didn’t need his unsettling presence. Especially not after that cataclysmic phone call.

  She didn’t find her keys, but she did find the grip of her trusty Beretta Tomcat. Taking that as a stamp of approval from fate—the bitch—she discreetly slid it out.

  “Julia, we must talk,” Adam said. “I have a situation that is extremely serious.” Then he touched her, damn him, gripping her shoulder. She felt the sparks down to her toes, and everywhere in between.

  “I have a better idea.” She turned, shrugging free of his hand and sidling a few steps away, keeping the gun behind her. He started after her, but froze when she swung out the Beretta and aimed it at his chest.

  “Back off, Adam.” She clicked off the safety.

  “Isn’t that a little childish?” he asked, not appearing the least concerned.

  Actually, it was probably incredibly stupid; she knew that with his thoughts alone, he could control her body like it was a marionette. But she was beyond caring. She dropped the gun due south toward a crucial target. “Maybe I’ll shoot lower.”

  Adam shrugged. “That’s not much of a threat to a man who hasn’t had sex in a few hundred years.”

  “What?” Startled, Julia found herself momentarily distracted. All the Sentinel men she’d met had been ultramasculine, overflowing with testosterone and machismo. Adam was so intense and so forceful, he certainly fit the mold.

  Besides, if she wasn’t mistaken, that was a sizable erection her gun was aimed at.

  “Could have fooled me,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said dryly. “Me, too.”

  ADAM had to force himself to keep his attention on Julia and that damned gun instead of his raging hard-on. It was a unique experience for him—both the difficulty in focusing and the explosion of sexual desire. Until now, he’d always maintained complete control over his mind and his body.

  He sure as darkness hadn’t experienced so much as a glimmer of sexual awareness for more lifetimes than he could count—until Julia Reynolds had walked into his private investigations office in Corpus Christi a little over six months ago. When they’d shaken hands, he’d experienced a one-two knockout punch from the realization she was a matched conductor—for him, a Sanctioned—and the ensuing stirring of a sexual surge.

  His well-ordered place in the Universe had been upended ever since then.

  She continued to challenge and surprise him, another rarity. But now he shelved his bemusement for a later time and forced himself to focus on the imminent threat of a .32 caliber-sized injury that might leave his voice an octave higher than it currently was. With minimal mental effort, he paralyzed Julia’s trigger finger, then exerted invisible pressure against her arm, forcing it down at her side.

  “Damn it!” she said furiously, her right shoulder jerking as she tried to move her arm. “Why do you always have to do that? Go around freezing things, or levitating things, or doing some sort of supernatural crap, stuff that goes against every known law of physics?”

  “Obviously there are some unknown laws of physics, then, aren’t there?” he pointed out reasonably. He demonstrated with a flick of his hand that released the gun from her helpless fingers. It hit the pavement with a metallic thud.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t consider magic tricks, voodoo, or forcing people against their will at all scientific. Just sneaky and underhanded. Your forte, I believe.”

  But he knew that despite her caustic words, she had accepted the existence of Sentinels and Belians, as well as the fact that both were reincarnated Atlantians. Just as he knew her reactions to him and the situation were based in part on the horrendous assault she’d endured twelve years ago. That and her fear of not being in control. He understood her very well, even though he wasn’t sure what it was about her that struck such a chord inside him.

  She couldn’t be called pretty, although she had flawless skin and a razor-sharp intelligence that gave her brown eyes an intriguing glow. But her face was too square, her eyes minimized behind tortoiseshell glasses, her wavy brown hair cut to chin length with no effort at style—all making her appear ordinary. She didn’t wear makeup and favored earth-toned pantsuits that did little to enhance her voluptuous figure.

  A lot of beautiful women had come on to him during his lifetimes, but none had affected him sexually, like Julia did. That was caused by the Sentinel/conductor energy, a link that dated back thousands of years to Atlantis, he reminded himself. Except as a Sanctioned, he shouldn’t be affected by it. Yet he was.

  “There is nothing sneaky or underhanded about my actions,” he said. “I entered the pub, sat next to you, and explained that I need your help. I’m not the one who pulled out a concealed weapon and threatened castration.”

  “You’ve been stalking me. Having me watched like a common criminal. You should be—”

  “Julia, be quiet and listen to me. I didn’t come here to match wits or verbally spar with you.”

  She tossed her head, started to speak, but a flick of his hand froze her vocal chords. “No,” he said firmly. “You will not speak, and you will hear me out.”

  Panic flared in her eyes and she stiffened. But then she drew a deep breath and let her body relax against the car. Smart lady. Adam had paralyzed her vocal chords once before in Dallas, so she knew what was happening and that there would be no permanent damage. Her eyes, however, clearly telegraphed her fury. He wouldn’t be leaving any sharp or dangerous objects within her reach any time soon.

  He stepped closer to her, sensed the increased pounding of her heart. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel the situation was crucial,” he told her. “One of my Sentinels has disappeared, and I’m unable to get a clear reading on him. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I have to find out. You’re the only person I know who might be able to help me.”

  “I’ve called the police,” came another voice.

  That statement jolted Adam’s attention away from Julia. He turned to find the bartender standing there, her open cell phone in her hand. Her gaze was locked on him like a nuclear missile on a target. Behind her was a man in suit pants, dress shirt, and tie, with a name tag on the shirt pocket—probably the pub manager.

  Adam groaned inwardly. The Universe was definitely throwing curveballs today. He stared back at the bartender, not pleased with the suspicious expression in her eyes. She can’t possibly suspect anything about my true identity, he told himself. Yet a warning flickered through his senses. Great.

  “The police are on their way,” the man behind her said, his voice shaking slightly. “Move away from the lady.”

  Hearing sirens in the distance, Adam knew he only had a moment more to try to convince Julia to help him. He returned his attention to her, his gaze drilling hers. What he was about to do went against his normally ironclad code of never forcing compliance from a conductor, yet he felt the desperate situation warranted it.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m hoping you can see something that will help,” he said, taking Julia’s right hand with his left. He opened the channel to Matt’s energy. She gasped, her body jerking as if zapped by a jolt of electricity. He felt the energy transfer, saw the flickering flashes in her eyes.

  The sirens grew closer. While he could manipulate minds and events, he only did so when absolutely necessary—which meant he was out of time. With a frustrated growl, he released Julia’s hand. She blinked, opened then closed her mouth. Then she swung her left arm—the one he’d neglected to immobilize—and hit him in the face with her p
urse.

  Pain smashed through his nose. He could practically feel the agony ripping through axons and synapses and screaming into the neurons of his brain. Times like this made inhabiting a human body a bitch. “Julia!” he snapped out, mentally slapping her with enough force to shove her against her car. “Stop it now!”

  Damn it. His nose hurt like hell. He pulled out a handkerchief, forcing the pain back to a dull throb, and began blotting the blood. He eyed her in disbelief. “That was totally uncalled for.” Even if he had just forced a vision on her.

  She struggled to move, but he kept her pressed against the car. Her chest heaving against her burgundy jacket, she glared at him. She tried to speak, but nothing came out, since he hadn’t released her vocal chords.

  He drew a deep breath—through his mouth—and reached for control. He could never—ever—harm an innocent. Julia might be a pain in the rear, and she’d definitely injured him, but she was both human and an innocent. He could heal the nose, but not now. The sirens were very close.

  He stepped back, looked toward the bartender and the manager. “Please note that the lady attacked me, not the other way around. However, I won’t be pressing charges.” He glanced at Julia. “You and I will be talking very soon.”

  He strode away. He didn’t release her until he was at his Mercedes. With one last look at her, he got in, started the car, and pulled out. He passed two police cars headed for the pub and shook his head.

  Well, that had certainly gone well. But whenever Julia was involved, he could count on unpredictable reactions and outcomes.

  The lady was definitely a challenge.

  But she was about to learn she was no match for him.

  THE voices were incessant, a cacophony of disjointed words and sounds ricocheting in his mind. He felt like a shattered mirror, splintered into a thousand excruciating shards. Where was he? Where was Susan? God . . . no . . . she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be!

  But she is . . . she is, whispered a voice, the words a knife, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing. Plunging into his heart, slicing at his humanity. Shredding his sanity.