Shock held me motionless at actually hearing Kelsey’s warning. It meant
something, but damned if I knew what. There was no ‘normal’ for reliving
the past, no handy user guide.
What had changed?
The images were gone, but there had to be something more. Something I
could use. Even as my head began to pound, I kept my weird other sight open and retraced my steps through the hall, frantically searching for any other signs.
Anything I might have missed.
The swirling images coalesced in a confused blur and faded even faster, as if
my intensity chased them away. Frustration peaked.
Maybe if I went back to my room and started over?
As I passed the front door, a shadow wavered across the glass-block window.
I froze. Someone, a large someone, stood outside the door. My gaze dropped to
the doorknob. Unlocked.
Shit!
It began to turn slowly. I had a handful of seconds before it would open.
Slamming my mental walls back up sent a ferocious ache behind my eyes, but the need to know what was real and now, and what wasn’t, was critical. The door
crept open.
Praying the glass column wouldn’t give away my presence, I carefully
shifted against the wall behind the door. As the door continued to move, it also
blocked line of sight. Of course, whoever was behind it, couldn’t see me either.
Which meant I had one shot. Wrapping my hand on the knob, I shoved my shoulder and weight into the door, slamming it forward.
A muffled grunt confirmed the presence of a real, live body. Unfortunately,
the door encountered a freaking battering ram and bounced back. Since I didn’t
want to be stuck between the door and the wall, I stumbled out of the tight space
and into the hall. My weak leg did not like the twists and turns, but I needed distance from whoever came through my door and my escape routes were
limited.
Open living room or the bedrooms?
Remembering my staff propped by my bedroom door, I turned to run. Behind
me, the sound of the door being shoved flat against the wall jerked my attention
back to the entryway. Cold sweat erupted down my spine.
The man strong-arming my door stood at least six two and he wasn’t selling
cookies. A black T-shirt outlined broad shoulders and a heavy chest, explaining
why my brilliant plan of knocking him back through the doorway was destined
for failure.
My mind processed the details, trying to put the pieces together. Brown hair,
thick and shaggy, framed dark eyes in a startlingly savage face. Still reeling from
using my stupid ability, I couldn’t make the picture stick, but a niggling sense of
familiarity lingered. But now wasn’t the time for polite introductions.
An impressive snarl emerged from inside the neatly trimmed goatee, “Hello,
Cyn.” His deep voice raised every hair on my body and sent my pulse into overdrive. It tore through me, unlocking memories better left alone.
