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"Huh," she said, noticing a subtle change in his demeanor from before. He was still immense and dangerous-looking, but when he stared at her now, there was a sober, almost pained resignation about him. Like he had some unpleasant business that he needed to get out of the way.
"If you're not here to force anything on me, then why do you look like you're delivering me my last meal?"
"I came to talk to you, that's all. There are some things I need to explain to you. Things you need to know."
Well, it was about time she got some answers. "Okay. You can start by telling me when you're going to let me out of here."
"Soon," he said. "Tomorrow night we'll be leaving for the States."
"You're taking me back to America?" She knew she sounded too hopeful, especially when he was still including himself in the scenario. "Are you going to release me tomorrow? Are you letting me go home?"
He walked slowly around the foot of the bed, over to the wall with the shaded window. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, his tattooed, muscular arms crossed over his chest. For a long minute, he didn't say anything. Just stood there until Dylan wanted to scream.
"You know, I was supposed to meet someone in Prague this morning - someone who knows my boss and has probably already called him to ask about me. I'm booked on a flight back to New York this afternoon. There are people expecting me back home. You can't just pluck me off the street and think no one is going to notice I'm gone - "
"No one is expecting you now."
Dylan's heart started to thud heavily in her chest, as if her body was aware something big was coming even before her brain was fully on board with it. "What...what did you just say?"
"Your family, friends, and your place of work have all been informed that you are safe and sound, but expect to be out of contact for a while." At her certain look of confusion, he said, "They all received an e-mail from you a few minutes ago, letting them know that you were taking some extra time off to see more of Europe on your own."
Anger flared in her now, even stronger than the wariness she knew just a second before. "You contacted my boss? My mother?" The job was of little concern to her at the moment, but it was the thought of this man getting anywhere near her mom that really set Dylan off. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, practically shaking with rage. "You bastard! You manipulative son of a bitch!"
He drew back, out of her path as she charged at him. "It was necessary, Dylan. As you said, there would have been questions. People would have been worrying about you."
"You stay the fuck away from my family - do you hear me? I don't care what you do to me, but you leave my family out of this!"
He remained calm, considerate. Maddeningly so. "Your family is safe, Dylan. And so are you. Tomorrow night, I will be taking you back to the States, to a secret location that belongs to those of my kind. I think once you're there, a lot of what you're going to hear now will be easier for you to understand."
Dylan stared at him, her mind stumbling over his odd choice of words: those of my kind.
"What the hell is going on here? I'm serious...I need to know." Ah, hell. Her voice was quaking like she was about to lose it in front of him - this stranger who had stolen her freedom and violated her privacy. She would be damned before she showed any weakness to him, no matter what she was about to hear. "Please. Tell me. Give me the truth."
"About yourself?" he asked, his deep, accented voice rolling through the syllables. "Or about the world you were born to be a part of?"
Dylan couldn't find words to speak. Instinct made her hand move up to the back of her neck, where her nape seemed to tingle with heat.
Rio nodded soberly. "It's a rare birthmark. Maybe one in half a million human females are born with it, probably less. Women bearing the mark - women like you, Dylan - are very special. It means that you are a Breedmate. Women like you have certain...gifts. Abilities that separate you from other people."
"What kind of gifts and abilities?" she asked, not even sure she wanted to have this conversation.
"Extrasensory skills, primarily. Everyone is different, with different levels of capabilities. Some can see the future or the past. Some can hold an object and read its history. Others can summon storms or command the will of living things around them. Some heal with a simple touch. Some can kill with just a thought."
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "Nobody has those kinds of abilities outside of tabloid magazines and science fiction."
He grunted, his mouth lifting at the corner. He was studying her too closely, trying to peel her apart with that penetrating topaz gaze. "I'm certain that you have a special skill too. What is yours, Dylan Alexander?"
"You can't be serious." She shook her head and gave a dismissive roll of her eyes.
But all the while she was thinking about the one thing that had always made her different. Her unreliable, inexplicable link to the dead. It wasn't the same thing as what he was describing, though. It was something else completely.
Wasn't it...?
"You don't have to confide in me," he said. "Just know that there is a reason you are not like other women. Maybe you feel that you don't fit in with the world at large. Many women like you are more sensitive than the rest of the human population. You see things differently, feel things differently. There is a reason for all of that, Dylan."
How could he know? How could he understand so much about her? Dylan didn't want to believe anything he was saying. She didn't want to believe that she was part of anything he was describing, yet he seemed to understand her more intimately than anyone ever had.
"Breedmates are uniquely gifted," Rio said when she could only look at him in incredulous silence. "But the most extraordinary gift possessed by each is the ability to create life with those of my kind."
