4

Chapter Three

Carmella wasn’t stupid. She knew she was being followed through her flight along the outer boundaries of New Cincinnati. She knew an astral watcher followed her, pushed her pursuers away from her and made a wide path of safety as she fought to escape the mob that had come upon her on the hill across from the prison.

Psychics were able to detect others of their kind, and were constantly on guard for them. But detecting those non-psychics, who had been taught to shield their thoughts, trained for years to hunt their fellow man and lived with the anticipation of the hunt, was harder. Especially when all her senses were concentrated elsewhere.

She needed Torren out of that prison—if he was there. She needed him out. She couldn’t leave the area until she knew for certain he was safe. How the hell PSI had managed to capture him was a mystery to Carmella. She had known his obsession for that blonde-haired little witch of the new governor’s would lead to nothing but trouble. But had he listened to her? Hell, no. Now there he was, drugged, trapped in the hellhole, unable to free himself or to help her free him. It was pissing her off. And it made no sense.

The blonde wasn’t even his type. Delicate, fragile women had never appealed to him. Perhaps, it was Carmella’s own jealousies that had her convinced of that. Her own pain as he had drawn away from her. He had been an anchor, a lifeline to the often tempestuous, nearly out-of-control emotions that could overtake her. He could draw her back with his passion, his gentleness. Even when she longed for something wilder, an intangible something she couldn’t define or make sense of, Torren had eased her.

She moved quickly through the decades-old rubble and shadowed nightlife of New Cincinnati as she made her way back to the inn she was staying at. Finally, order was being established within the country. Lawlessness, lynch mobs and the desperation of a nation, she prayed, would slowly ease as the citizens replaced their nightly terrors with full stomachs and work-weary bodies.

Exhaustion clamored at her now. She was looking forward to a hot meal and the bed that awaited her. She moved carefully through the waste-filled alleys, making certain to stay within the shadows, to pull a close shield around the powerful abilities that could fairly hum with their strength if she wasn’t careful.

Strangers were rare in the streets of New Cincinnati after dark. The lynch mobs knew who their locals were, made a point of it. Strangers were automatically distrusted, imprisoned, subjected to horrors she didn’t want to relive for fear of never sleeping. She knew well the danger that awaited her if she was caught. It made the fact that she was being “watched” all the more worrisome.

She entered the torch-lit main room of the inn, ignoring the curious looks of the inhabitants as she stared around the bar. The inn had once been one of the many office buildings that sat outside the main thoroughfare of the city a century before. It was one of the few left standing.

The large central room held a multitude of tables and weary strangers to the city. Some she knew were psychics, some were bounty hunters, others were just killers.

She strode quickly through the long room, ignoring the distrustful, lecherous gazes of the men and the brooding, wary looks of the women as she made her way to a small, empty table in one corner.

She didn’t like so many people watching her. The air felt thick with their emotions, the danger that surrounded many of them. It increased the nervous energy plaguing her now.

You need to center yourself. Otherwise, a PSI spy will pick up on you instantly. Torren’s mental voice was cool, commanding.

Where the fuck are you? She was careful to keep her head lowered, her expression clear as he established the link that had been broken for over a week.

I’m not really sure I can tell you. There was a thread of amusement there that she knew she should worry about, but she was just too damned tired.

This isn’t helping me any, Torren, she told him fiercely.

She was alone in this now. She was confident enough of her abilities to survive, but she missed Torren. Missed his support, his touch and the knowledge that there was someone to lean on.

I’m sending someone to help you, Carmella. His information had her holding her breath in surprise. He’ll be there soon. I want you to be waiting when he makes contact.

There was something lingering in his thoughts that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Almost as though he didn’t trust whomever he was sending.

Oh, I trust him well enough. There was a bit too much amusement in the thought.

And he’s supposed to help me how? Irritation was crawling through her body. Dammit, she didn’t like waiting around like this.

Stop, you’re bleeding power! The command bordered on anger. Dammit, Carmella, you’re losing control. Pull it in.

She tightened her jaw, doing just that. But it was damned hard. Her frustration level was becoming dangerously volatile.

You need to rest. I’m safe for now, he assured her. Get dinner, then fucking go to bed and sleep. You’re too damned tired to keep stretching yourself like this.

And whose fault is that? She snarled silently, furiously. If you had kept your ass with me instead of sniffing some civilian honey pot I wouldn’t be here now, would I, Torren?

It infuriated her. He was her lover, professed to love her, yet he had disappeared after nearly being caught trying to get close to the governor’s daughter. A tempting, sensuous blonde who had drawn his gaze more than once during the speech the governor had given that day.

Sniffing some civilian honeypot? Mocking amusement accompanied Torren’s thought. I never just sniff, Carmella. You should know that. Now be a good girl, stop being so jealous and get your dinner and some rest. You’re wearing me down with all that frustration and weariness dragging at you. It’s tiring.

Carmella clenched her teeth but refrained from growling as the waitress set a mug of beer in front of her.

“Dinner?” The slight woman’s bored air pricked at Carmella’s anger.

She glanced at the lighted menu display over the bar and sighed. It hadn’t changed in days. Cabbage, potatoes, and boiled chicken with vegetables. Hell, it beat some meals she had been forced to eat.

“Dinner,” she sighed, rubbing her brow. Torren was right; she was too damned tired for this.

The waitress nodded, moving away quickly as Carmella allowed her gaze to roam around the room in disinterest until the woman returned with her food. She ate quickly, efficiently. It was energy, nothing more, and as tired as she was she would need that energy just to pull her ass up the stairs to her room. As she pushed the plate back and picked up the mug of beer waiting beside it, she felt her senses hum in sudden awareness. She was being watched.

She could feel eyes on her, someone studying her, not astrally, but with such a physical presence it was disconcerting. The room was dim; especially the corners, but she found the offender easily enough.

Good God, he was a dangerous one. Carmella met his gaze for long seconds, her brow lifting mockingly as his look touched on her breasts pushing against the snug confines of her black top before meeting her gaze once again. His lips quirked in answering sarcasm.

He wasn’t classically handsome. His features were too rough, too savage, for such a description. His thick, shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back from his forehead and restrained at the nape of his neck. Like her, he was dressed in black with a light leather overcoat that fell to his knees. Her eyes narrowed. The man was packing more than just muscle under that coat.

He was easily six two, with broad shoulders. She bet his stomach was flat and rippled with strength, his arms would be strong, his thighs powerful. Her vagina clenched at the thought. Staying power. He looked strong enough to have it, if he wanted it.

She sneered at herself. She hadn’t met a man yet that could still the fires that raged in her body. It didn’t keep her from aching, though. And the man watching her lit a flame in her womb that threatened to burn out of control. She could feel her body crackling with desire. Singeing with guilt. She was furious with Torren, yet was lusting after another man herself.

She pushed her fingers tiredly through her short red-gold hair, breaking away from his gaze quickly. Hell, she was so damned tired she knew she wasn’t up to a fucking, no matter how good it could get, even if she was so inclined. But it didn’t keep her from wanting.

Carmella pulled the price of her meal from her snug pants pocket as she rose to her feet and made her way to the second floor of the inn. The room she had taken had once been a small office suite. The entrance had a frayed, aging couch and single chair but was otherwise bare. It was the shower she needed right now, though. The dust and grime of a day spent hiding in trees and along the rough ground had done little for her disposition this evening.

Long minutes later she stood beneath the tepid, surprisingly fresh flow of water. This wasn’t river water as she was used to. It was clean and sweet-smelling, with just a mild touch of chlorine. Evidently the city’s water station was working ahead of schedule.

She didn’t expect hot water, but was mildly surprised that even the chill had been knocked off it. She leaned against the rough shower wall, letting the lukewarm stream course over her after washing her hair and her body quickly, enjoying the rare pleasure of being totally clean.

The soothing spray of the water eased some of her tired muscles and relaxed her marginally. Minutes later, the rationed flow of water began to slow, and Carmella turned the taps off with a sigh of regret before stepping out of the shower stall.

With no more than a coarse towel wrapped around her body she moved through the central room and entered her bedroom.

She barely kept from betraying her awareness that she was being watched the moment she stepped into the room. It was the same presence that had followed her through the woods earlier, eerily similar to the sensation of the stranger’s eyes that had watched her in the bar.

Who was he and what the hell did he want?

She had no doubt the presence was male. Who he was became the greater question, though. And why was he watching her?