No Peace for the Damned by Powell Megan

Author:Powell, Megan [Powell, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2012-07-09T22:00:00+00:00

From the kitchen through the great room, I paced. Had it been real? A dream? Shit.

With a burst of purpose I flew out the front door to my car. I jammed the key in the ignition, turned over the engine, shoved the gearshift into reverse—then stopped.

Where were Thirteen and the others? If Theo was really gone, where was the panic? Besides, what was I going to do anyway—drive out to my family’s estate and look for Theo along the side of the road? Yeah, right.

With heavy feet I chided myself all the way back to bed. I hadn’t even bothered throwing on real clothes. I still wore the same camisole and panties that I’d gone to bed in. These new emotions were going to be the death of me, I just knew it. I pulled the sheet up over my face and sighed.

The monitor beeped twice. My stomach dropped. Tires slowly churned over the gravel drive. The engine shut down. A car door shut quietly and footsteps moved softly to the porch.

The single beep of the alarm made me jump as the front door opened and closed.

I couldn’t move. Theo. His thoughts were a mess, the energy around him mangled with anger and fear and something else.

Quietly, he moved to the kitchen. Cabinets opened and closed. The small light over the stove flipped on, casting shadows in the hall outside my open bedroom door. I crept from my bed to the doorway. I could see him, leaning with his backside against the table, hovering over the contents of the first aid kit. The rips in his clothes, the blood on his hands, all conducive to my midnight memories.

Memories. Not dreams or fantasies. Oh God. What did this mean?

Theo hissed as he fumbled with his sleeve. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

I went to the sink and pulled out some dish towels and a large glass bowl. I turned on the faucet and the rush of water echoed through the house. His eyes watched my every movement, his gaze hot on my back. I wet the clean towels and filled the bowl with warm water.

When I turned off the faucet, the silence was even louder than before. With a gulp I turned to face him. Time stood still when our eyes met. I carried his gaze until I stood directly in front of him. My hands shook as I lifted the wet towel from the bowl.

I had no clue if he would let me do this. And when I looked up to his face, there was a new darkness there that gave me pause. He knew now just how strong my mental abilities were. It had been a leap of faith for him to trust me while at the estate. The pain of his wounds, the absoluteness of my power, the fact that he’d escaped—his mind struggled to hold onto what was real.

I held the dripping towel up for him to see. He frowned, but after a moment, nodded. I lowered the cloth slowly, brushing it along his shoulder and neck.

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