"My eyes are very sensitive," he said. "I'm sorry if it bothers you."
"Ignore my husband, Alex," Cynthia said, in her most charming voice. "He has the manners of a lout, and he's very possessive of his little sister. You'll be staying, won't you?"
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Laura sat there, bathed in the heat of the fire, her family surrounding her, and yet she felt distant, apart, watching. Waiting for what Alex would say.
It mattered. She wasn't sure why, but it mattered terribly that he should stay. A matter of life and death, she thought oddly.
Please, she begged silently.
The moment passed, the voices returned, and Laura's damaged heart started beating again. "I will stay," Alex said.
And suddenly Laura knew that life had just changed, shifted, irrevocably. There would be no going back, and she wasn't certain whether she was frightened or glad.
Perhaps a little bit of both.
She stole a glance at the man sitting next to her. He was like no one she had ever seen, and yet he seemed so familiar, a part of her in some way she couldn't define.
It no longer mattered. The die was cast. He would stay. And life would change, forever.
CHAPTER TWO
He was afraid to touch her, he who wasn't afraid of anything. She sat close enough to him on that overstuffed sofa that he could smell the trace of her perfume, the scent of cognac on her mouth. It had been so long since he'd tasted brandy, tasted another mouth. He wanted to so badly he thought he might die of it.
He kept his sour amusement to himself. He knew better than anyone that one didn't die of lust, of longing, of loneliness. The acknowledged causes of death were far more pragmatic. But the real cause of death was that he chose to take someone.
Lightning crackled outside the thick pine walls of the house, and everyone jumped. Everyone but Alex. They were uneasy, this group of assorted siblings, and his presence wasn't making things any more comfortable. He considered leaving. But then, if he was to go, he would take Laura with him, the old man, as well, and the assembled Fitzpatricks would be a great deal unhappier.
"Did you see the news tonight?" Jeremy said, trying to inject a note of normalcy into the evening. He was a pleasant-looking, undistinguished middle-aged man who probably had a long life ahead of him. There was nothing the slightest bit remarkable about him, apart from his air of self-importance, and Alex barely paid attention to him. "Someone jumped off the Empire State Building."
"Why is that so remarkable?" Cynthia demanded in a captious voice. "People have been committing suicide since the dawn of mankind."
"But that's what makes it so interesting. The man who jumped didn't die. He fell God knows how many flights, and he didn't die." Jeremy took another swallow of his whiskey.
"Don't tell me he got up, brushed himself off and walked away?" Ricky demanded, his voice both belligerent and slurred.
"No. He broke every bone in his body. His internal organs were smashed to pieces. But he's not dead."
Silence reigned for a moment. "You choose the most morbid topics of conversation, Jeremy," Cynthia finally remarked. "Could we perhaps talk about something other than death? Considering your father is lying in his room, dying. Why don't we talk about the weather?"
"The weather's just as strange. There have been electrical storms almost everywhere. Apparently three people were struck by lightning near Monarch Pass."
"They must be toast," Ricky said unpleasantly.
"They're not dead, either."
“Would you stop with the gruesome stories!" Laura said, shuddering. "I don't want to hear any more."
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Jeremy said. "According to Mrs. Hawkins, the power's gone. We're making do on generators until it comes back on. The phones, the television, even the radio stations, are out. That news report I heard a while ago will probably be our last until the problem's solved."
"That's ridiculous. We can pick up radio stations from Mexico and Canada up here on the mountain," Cynthia protested. "Don't tell me none of them are coming in!"
"All right, I won't tell you," Jeremy said agreeably, his eyes unreadable. "But it's true. Beats me what could be causing it, though."
"The storms," Alex suggested. "Electrical storms can do very strange things in Europe – I imagine the same is true here. Once it calms down outside things will be back to normal."
It should have amused him, how easily they swallowed his reasoning. It fascinated him, instead— he'd always known how very gullible people were, how desperate to find comfortable explanations for the inexplicable. The Fitzpatricks, for all their wealth and power, were no different. Except, perhaps, for the woman sitting next to him.
"You're probably right," Jeremy said a bit grudgingly. "In the meantime, it's probably just as well you showed up when you did. We were worried when Justine returned and Laura didn't. We were afraid she might have gotten into trouble out there in the woods."
"What kind of trouble could I get into?" she demanded.
Alex recognized the faint note of defiance in Laura's voice. Life with her family was a battle she had long ago conceded, yet she still managed to rise to a skirmish or two.
"You ran into someone unexpected, didn't you?" Jeremy countered.
"It's a good thing I did," she snapped back.
Suddenly they were all attention. Cynthia moved closer, perching on the edge of the sofa next to him. Her black silk dress was cut low, and her scent was musky, sexual. "Did you come to the aid of my little sister-in-law?" she cooed.
He glanced up at her. She would be an easier one to experiment with. She called to him; her ripe, abundant flesh luring him, even as her soul seemed strangely absent. He could content himself with learning what he needed to learn from her and leave Laura alone until he no longer had a choice but to take her. He had no inexplicable feelings for Cynthia, no strange, haunting desires. He could use her and feel nothing.
He didn't smile at Cynthia—there was no need. Her eyes were deep and blue and knowing. "She'd fallen," he said in an offhand voice. "She'd tripped over a root and knocked the breath out of herself. She was more frightened than anything else."
"Laura doesn't usually get frightened. She lets the rest of us get terrified for her," Justine said from her spot in the corner.
"There's no reason for anyone to worry about me," Laura said firmly. "Alex is right. I tripped, I couldn't breathe, and I panicked. Fortunately, Alex was there."
"Fortunate is right," Jeremy said. "We're doubly grateful to you, then. We're at the point of losing our father. I don't think this family could stand it if anything happened to Laura at the same time. She's the baby of the family."
Alex turned to look at her, saw the flush of annoyance on her pale face. He'd had time to watch them alclass="underline" Jeremy, with his shallow, friendly pomposity; Justine, with her fragile nerves and haunted eyes; drunken, bullying Ricky; and the voracious Cynthia. Not one of them had Laura's fine, tensile strength of character. She was clearly the grown-up of the family, despite the measurement of years.
He smiled faintly, wishing he could reach out and touch her clenched fist, which lay on the couch between them. He didn't dare. He knew too well just what his touch could do if he reached for her. She had to touch him first, and Laura wasn't a woman for casual touching.