That voice of his—black velvet in the dead of night. Seductive and sinful. Something else that could make her whimper with want. She could just get lost in it.
Instead, she gave him a wry grimace and turned away from him to study her rather macabre reflection. He’d managed to get most of the blood off her face, but it was drying on her neck and her shirt was trashed. “The headache is getting better, but I look like a vampire’s chew toy,” she said sourly. She held her hand out over her shoulder. “Can I have the rag?”
He pushed it into her hand, but instead of moving out of the way, he lingered there as she leaned in and started to wash the blood away. She had to rinse the rag out twice to get her neck clean. She went over her face again. Finally, though, she’d cleared it all away, and before she turned to face him, she rinsed it out one more time. “I can take it home and wash it if you want.”
“No. Not a problem.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move and she tensed.
Slowly, she lifted her head, watching as he stroked a finger across her temple. “How do you feel now?”
The ache still lingered. The dizziness was gone, but she had a feeling she’d be dealing with the aftereffects of this for a while. “Like somebody kicked me in the head,” she said bluntly. “I might want to ease up on the sugar intake if that’s what caused it. I know teenage boys have a different metabolism, but maybe I should dump the cookies instead of letting Alex have them.”
“No. You’re probably right . . . just the sugar. Maybe the heat, if you’re not used to it.” He feathered his thumb over her brow. “If you take a nap, rest for a little while, you’ll probably feel better in a couple of hours.”
He sounded rather certain, she thought. Shaking her head, she casually eased away. His touch had hot little sparks jumping inside her. Not good. “I dunno, Gus.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He seemed undeterred by the way she’d casually shifted her body, his fingers trailing down her cheek to cup her chin, angling her head back until he could peer into her eyes.
A light, easy touch—just the press of his fingers under her chin. Barely any contact at all, and yet she felt it ricocheting through her. Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and if it wasn’t for years and years of practice in controlling everything from her physical responses to her emotions, Vaughnne knew she would have been breathing harder just from that light touch as well. She could feel the physical responses that weren’t quite as obvious. Her nipples tightened and ached—thank the maker of lined bras. It was the only thing keeping him from seeing that reaction, and she suspected he would have noticed.
All because he stroked his thumb across her brow, touched her chin.
All because he’d looked at her . . .
What in the hell would she do if he kissed her?
Better off not to know, she warned herself.
Better off.
“Are you still dizzy?”
Dizzy . . . She hadn’t mentioned that. She knew she hadn’t. Giving him a wide-eyed look, she asked, “Was I dizzy?” Then she laughed a little. “I guess I was, seeing as how I did a face plant, huh? Nah. I feel okay, other than my head.”
Wiggling out from between him and the sink, she made for the hallway. So much for trying to figure out a way to plant one of the units in the house.
It was a damn good thing he hadn’t decided to search her while she was out. She was going to have to think about alternative methods, maybe, of keeping a close set of eyes on them.
But thinking would have to come at a time when it wasn’t sheer torture just to move. She hadn’t been honest. She was still dizzy and her head was killing her. Alex’s mental probe had come smack up against her shields, and although she didn’t think he’d realized what he’d hit, just that impact had been enough to send her reeling.
Rest. Reevaluate. But get the hell out of there first.
The room spun around on her, and despite her determination, a groan managed to slip out of her. Slamming a hand against the wall, she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.
The kid . . . what the hell . . .
She blew out all the air in her lungs and then took another breath, slower. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she looked up and saw Alex standing at the end of the hall, a nervous, anxious look on his face.
And he still held that stupid plate of cookies, too.
He looked half-sick with guilt, and the cookie he’d been eating was clutched in one fist, but judging by the look on his face, he’d forgotten about it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and took another breath as he started to say something.
She even saw the words forming in his eyes.
But before he could say it, Gus cut him off. “Alex, why don’t you grab her a Coke from the fridge? Maybe it would help if she had a drink.”
Sorry. The kid wanted to say he was sorry, but Gus wouldn’t let him. She realized the problem there . . . Gus couldn’t let him, because neither of them realized she knew what had happened.
What an utter mess.
Babysitting.
My ass.
She managed not to snarl as Gus closed his hand around her arm once more, but it was a close thing.
And once she got out of there, she was going to have a word with Mr. Taylor Jones. A very painful word.
“YOU have to be more careful,” Gus said once Vaughnne was tucked safely back inside her house.
“I’m sorry.” Alex stood there, his head hanging so low, his chin touching his chest. “I just . . .” He sniffled and then looked up, a defiant look in his eyes. “I just wanted a cookie. Why did I have to do that just to get a damned cookie?”
“Watch your mouth, Alex,” Gus warned. “And you know why. So because you’re angry about the situation, you took it out on her. Was that fair? Was that kind? You saw what happened, didn’t you?”
“Her head felt funny!” Alex snapped. He turned away and jammed his hands into his pockets. “It’s not as easy to get inside her head. It’s almost like looking in yours and I had to push harder.”
Staring at the boy’s slumped shoulders, Gus rubbed his neck and tried to figure out what to say, what to do.
He understood, basically, what Alex was saying. Some minds were just more open, easier to read. The more closed the mind, the harder it was for Alex to look inside, but if he really wanted in, Alex would get in. So far, it didn’t seem like anybody had been able to keep the boy out. But Alex usually didn’t cause pain when he looked, and over the past two years or so, his control had gotten better. For the most part, nobody seemed to even notice anything was going on. Before they’d started working on it, Alex had pushed too hard and people had . . . sensed something. Or just sensed that something wasn’t quite right, Gus supposed. He didn’t know how to describe it because he was always aware of it when Alex was probing his mind and he knew the look the boy had on his face when he was looking into somebody else’s.
But as the boy’s control had improved, Gus had stopped seeing those signs of strain, those signs of pain. It happened less and less often, and for more than a year, those occurrences were the anomaly, not the norm.
Until today.
Not only had he caused Vaughnne pain, but he’d sent that woman crashing to the floor. All because she’d brought them a plate of cookies.
Leaning against the wall near the door, Gus stared outside, watching her house, still painfully aware of how she’d felt when he’d picked her up. Solid. Warm. And real. It was a miserable thing, he mused. She’d been unconscious, dealing with a nosebleed, and instead of being wracked with guilt over that, he was too busy remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.