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ike a lightning strike.
“Máelodor.”
Cat stared out onto a night black with her own fear. Aware that somewhere beyond the pools of washed-out light cast by the house’s windows stalked a hunter. Though perhaps “limped” might be more accurate. She closed her eyes, but Lazarus’s face, grim and implacable as any effigy, remained burned into her brain.
She should have struck. Should have at least tried to finish him off. He was defenseless. Vulnerable. An easy target. For heaven’s sake, he’d lain there and begged for it. And what had she done? Nothing. And worse than nothing, she’d actually given him water. Why not just pat him on the head like a good little nightmare creature and be done with it?
Fool and ten times a fool.
“Cat?”
The easy baritone slid along her raw nerves like the screech of nails over a slate. Whipped her around in a heart-stopping lurch.
“I called your name three times,” he said. “You were miles away.”
What would Aidan say if he found out she’d seen Lazarus and let him escape? He’d think she was mad, and with good cause. She could try to explain the creature’s desire for death, and how her actions were more torture than relief, but she doubted Aidan would believe it. She didn’t really believe it herself. For even in that black, hell-smoldering gaze, she could have sworn she saw for the heart’s beat of a moment real desperation. A desire for life as great as her own. Just not the life he had.
And how insane did that sound?
She bought time with a wan smile and an adjustment of her shawl across her shoulders. Hated the way her stomach swooped and plunged and her skin went all tight and prickly. But at least the vision of a midnight black killer dissolved beneath the reality of the sleek and panther-muscled former lover.
Aidan cocked his head, concern in his eyes. “We’re safe. He can’t harm us ever again. We’re finished with him.”
That’s what he thought. And why not? He’d seen the damage inflicted. Damage no normal human could withstand. Not even a human like Lazarus. But he had withstood it. Could be on his way back here already. And this time what would Aidan do? The first attempt had almost killed him.
He crossed toward her, an arm out as if to comfort, but she stepped beyond his reach. Stiffened and turned away. It was the only way to save the refuge she’d built around herself over the last weeks. One touch and all her good intentions might shatter like glass. Aidan was off limits. He didn’t belong to her world. And she’d turned her back on his. They’d tested the waters. Found them treacherous and shark infested. Best to remain on shore and dream of the sea.
“I want to leave, Aidan.” She hugged the shawl to herself. Cast a desperate glance in his direction. “Tonight. Right now.”
A frown appeared between his dark, slanting brows. “Leave? Just like that?”
“Why not?
He opened his hands in a gesture of resignation. “The diary isn’t”—his gaze narrowed in thought—“unless you’re through with the diary. I suppose I don’t blame you. It’s been a curse from start to finish.”
She shook him off. “That’s not it. I gave you my word I’d help you with the diary. And for better or worse, I’ll stand by our agreement. But Maude and Daz aren’t safe as long as we remain.”
“It could be weeks before Máelodor realizes his resurrected killer has returned to the grave. We’ve time.”
“No, we don’t,” she urged, hoping he’d take the hint. “Time is definitely not on our side.”
His frown deepened. “What are you trying to say, Cat?”
She threw up her hands. Strode away from him to gaze out the window, imagining again the Domnuathi’s solemn, endless stare. “I’m saying Lazarus is alive. He’s out there. I’ve seen him.”
“Dreams can be powerful.”
She pounded a fist against the casement. “Not a dream.” Spun to face him. “I found him out in the hills. He’s hurt. Badly. But not fatally. He’ll recover. And when he does, I don’t want to be here.”
The frown became a scowl. A stormy, dangerous scowl. “You didn’t say anything? Not to Daz? Not to me?”
“And you would have done what?” Exasperation and her own guilt sharpened her words. “He can’t be killed, Aidan. Not by me. Not by you. You nearly died once trying to vanquish him.”
“So that makes your silence acceptable?”
She pursed her lips. How could she defend herself against the truth?
“Damn it, Cat. What the hell game are you playing?”
