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Duncan had never had anyone do a mind-dive before, but from what he’d heard from those who’d been on the receiving end, it was extremely unpleasant.
He braced himself as she stretched a hand toward him and split his mind open like a sharp knife to a cantaloupe.
He’d made war for decades. He’d been bruised, sliced up, had bones broken, and generally maimed in about every way possible, so he knew what pain was.
But what he felt right now, as the woman pierced his mind, was beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his life. Intense pain ripped through him, setting every nerve in his body on fire.
As she dove, his whole life opened up to Yolanthe, which meant very soon she’d find his memories about Rachel’s move to Seattle One.
Somehow, he had to warn Rachel.
~ ~ ~
Rachel stood in her garden, the tip of her shovel in the gravel walkway, her arms wrapped around the wood handle. She’d tried everything she could think of to help bring Duncan out of his trance. She’d talked to him, wept over him, and yelled at him. She’d rubbed his arms and legs briskly, she’d used a combination of resonance and telepathy to try to get even the smallest response from him mind-to-mind, and she’d even had him put him in an ice bath. But nothing had worked.
Horace, their most powerful healer on Second Earth, had brought his team in to work on Duncan repeatedly. He’d even used Fiona, mated to Warrior Jean-Pierre, who could amplify his power. But not even that had made a dent in his current, inexplicable situation.
He was healthy enough given he’d had a catheter for two weeks, a feeding tube, an IV for hydration and another one that carried her blood. She’d donated every day.
No stone had been left unturned.
Yet nothing had worked.
She was past the tears now and felt almost cold when she thought of him. Her frustration had stolen her compassion because her love and fear for him had about killed her.
And she thought she’d been over him.
Hah. Much chance of that.
Two weeks ago, Warrior Samuel and his woman, Vela, had rescued Duncan from a Third Earth torture cell. Some maniac called Sharav had abducted him from the New River Borderland and applied every vile technique known to human and ascended vampire kind in an attempt to break Duncan down.
He’d almost died in the process. But together, Fiona and Horace had brought him back from the brink.
Afterward, though he’d been brought out of harm’s way physically, he’d been left in a trance that not even the powerful Endelle, nine-thousand-years-old and the leader of Second Earth, had been able to pierce.
So, Rachel had donated repeatedly. Something she’d done just fifteen minutes ago, in an effort to keep Duncan alive. Now she was here in her Mortal Earth home to work in her garden.
She’d been so lost in thought, however, that she’d forgotten to change out of her dress, which made her smile. She glanced down. She loved this particular dress, a soft white cotton that ran mid-calf. Duncan had always liked her in dresses.
Her throat tightened. He’d kiss her and say, ‘Easy access.’ He was such a guy, but she’d loved it. Duncan had always known how to sex her up, then bring her to a roaring climax.
And here she was, s
tanding on the gravel path of her garden holding her shovel point down and wearing lavender leather ballet flats.
Her head hurt as well. The persistent ache was driving her crazy. She knew the source and that ticked her off because she’d promised herself never, never, to get involved with anything having to do with Duncan Wallace, or Militia Warriors, or the war ever again.
Now she felt like she was being sucked back into a relationship with the man who could build internal walls faster than he could blink.
To be fair, she had her own issues and no doubt consistently overreacted to Duncan’s repetitive efforts to create distance. But she really wanted to help, because – and here was her absolute hardest personal truth – she loved Duncan.
She rested her cheek on top of her folded hands, the shovel wiggling with the weight. She wished she could help more than anything, but at the same time resented the interference in her life.
For a long time now, she’d worked toward building a life for herself apart from the war. She’d landed in the Mortal Earth colony outside of Seattle One, perfectly content with her small woodsy home and the extensive garden that backed up to the Pacific Northwest Cascade Mountain forest.
Having added a microclimate, she was able to grow watermelons, tomatoes, and every other fruit and vegetable under the sun, at any time of the year. The co-director of the colony, Mei-Amadi, wasn’t exactly happy about the micro-climate, but she didn’t reject the fresh tomatoes either.
Rachel knew she was something of a hypocrite since she refused to use most of her Second Earth powers on principle. But when it came to her garden, she couldn’t resist.
