Halflings (6 page)

“So I hear,” he said.

“You’re new?” she asked, forcing her shoulders to relax.

“Just moved here.”

His face was so very alive. Like moonbeams captured in flesh. She tried to separate her emotions from her sanity, because the two seemed at odds. Then the room spun. The blood supply to her brain careened first to her stomach, then down to her feet. In what was becoming a habit, she dropped her face into her hands, where all thought of action, escape — and boys too cute to be lurking in abandoned barns — faded.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she managed, but it was a pitiful reply. “No.” She pressed her palms into her eyes. “It’s weird, like my strength is being zapped.” It reminded her of when she was twelve and had laid her hand against an open light socket while helping her dad fix a broken switch. It had caused her muscles to falter throughout her entire body. While she barely remembered the incident, she remembered that strange weakened-feeling vividly. She also recalled the next hour. After some argument, her parents called a family friend rather than the paramedics, which Nikki had always thought weird. She remembered the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who had hovered above her like a watchful mother hen. After several minutes, he announced her fit and life returned to normal.

This sensation was different, somehow more internal and less harmful than the jolts of electric current. But she still had the sense something freaky was going on.

The boy moved closer to her, scooting across the dirt floor. “Here, lean on me.” Her trepidation again waned as the soothing vibrations of his voice filled her ears.

Her head returned to the spin cycle, and she collapsed toward him, tucking her shoulder beneath his arm. His chest was a breathing concrete wall against her cheek, and she thought she felt him shudder. She felt herself weaken even more but couldn’t muster the energy to mind. Heat rose from his thin T-shirt, warming the side of her face.

Low volts zapped her, causing drowsy, hazy flashes in her mind. This was how she’d felt yesterday.
He’d been there.
Him and a pack of wolf-things. As if every synapse were suddenly aflame, Nikki pushed away from the stranger.

He tensed. “What?”

“Who are you?” she demanded, rolling onto her knees to
make it easier to stand. But he was still too close. A balmy hand fell on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Nikki. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She’d studied six years of martial arts, ensuring no man on the planet could hurt her. She backed away from him, his touch, his warm body, and stood on
al dente
spaghetti legs.
Right, like I could throw a punch or land a kick right now.
The first sign of potential support was the wall near the barn door. Surely her legs could carry her that far. She stumbled toward it and dropped her hand to the slat handle to stay upright. And to make a quick exit. As soon as she could walk without staggering, she’d make a run for it. Until then, she’d get answers. “How do you know my name? Who
are
you?”

“My name is Mace.” He stood and attempted a tentative step in her direction, as if trying to corner a skittish cat.

To which she shook her head. Adrenaline coursed and Nikki drew on its potency. Her hands opened from the fisted position they’d maintained while vulnerable. Open hands were hands of war, hands of control and conviction.

Mace frowned, recognition seeming to register in his eyes.

Determined to avert her gaze from the blue-green sea, her right foot slid back, knees bent, weight shifted, left foot ready to strike. Ridged hand ready to follow. Fact was, she really,
really
didn’t want to fight the cutest guy she’d ever met. The fact that she’d noticed he was cute was a big deal. She usually stayed oblivious since they seemed an immature lot. One she rarely had the time or inclination to indulge. Her best friend Krissy referred to her love life as the black hole, where possibilities were devoured by its bleakness.
Why, in the midst of a potential attack, am I thinking about my love life?
Lack of blood flow to the brain, no doubt.

The boy took a step back, his jeans shifting over muscled thighs. He lifted his hands, palms facing her. “Look, you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said with a voice sounding much more confident than she felt.

He raked a hand through his dark blond hair. “Whatever. I brought you in here so you wouldn’t get drenched.”

She nodded, heart hammering. “Right. You could have just called for help, you know.” She tossed a glance through the window. “In the time it took you to drag me here, the police would have arrived.”

“Have you watched too many horror flicks?” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t
drag
you here. I carried you because you couldn’t walk. And just how would I have called the police?”

Seriously? She pinned him with a dead stare. “You own a cell phone, don’t you?”

“Uh.” His cheeks flushed and he looked down, intensely examining the barn floor then several steps away to the spot where her helmet had been neatly placed on a hay bale.

She’d caught him off guard. Interesting. But he had her on the edge too. In fact, as she studied him, it seemed like the uncertainty between them created a canyon of doubt, but there was a curiosity that forged a bridge neither seemed able to completely ignore.

A chuckle slipped from her lips, surprising them both. “No cell phone? Are you, like, Amish or something?”

His hands came together, fingers interlocked at his waist.

The term
little boy lost
slid into her mind. Good. She had the upper hand after all. Confidence renewed, she pulled her phone from her front pocket and flipped it open. She pretended to mash buttons.

He raised a hand. “Nikki, wait.”

His eyes pleaded. Her heart fluttered. And suddenly, the thought of being locked in a hand-to-hand scuffle with him seemed a gratifying way to spend a rainy afternoon. Alone in a barn.

Whoa there.

“Please, wait.” Again, his lean, strong fingers slid through hair cut into a shaggy style that fell into exact position. Exact order. Yes, there was something decidedly ordered about him. Like he wasn’t used to breaking rules but had recently found himself unable to keep them. He was as out of place in the barn as she was, and again this gave her the edge.

Well, kind of. She found herself fixated on the long bangs that dusted his forehead, slightly creased by a distant frown. Apart from the uncertainty he exuded, his chiseled bone structure and smooth skin radiated perfection.

The idea of sketching him whipped into her mind. Charcoal, maybe. To capture the light and shadow of his carved features. But a shadow hid his heart as well, of that she was certain, and she had no idea how to depict that with paper and pencils — or even what it was for that matter.

He took a step closer.

Her jaw shifted, her eyes splitting glances between him and her cell phone. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Mace’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll explain what I can.” He seemed to catch himself. “I’ll, uh, explain what I know.”

A peculiar sadness entered his gaze. Beyond little boy lost. Little boy … never to be found. Again, her heart reacted.

“First, about the accident.” He stumbled over the words. “Not really an accident. I mean, your bike’s fine. Some jerk was chasing you in an SUV.”

The incident flooded her mind. Gas station. Crazed guy. Red, smiling face. Flash of light, and … Mace … sitting behind her on the bike. Her cell phone dropped from her hand and landed on the ground with a thud and a dust puff.

Her knees buckled and once again the world went liquid. She glanced down at her phone, how it had fallen; she was bound to trace its path and land on the barn floor. Sliding, sliding her back against the wall … then a sudden stop. Mace’s face once again was before her; he’d caught her and trapped her between the barn wall and himself. Her world darkened to a tiny tunnel of light. Everything faded except cerulean eyes.

“No,” she whispered. Then, she saw nothing at all.

T
his is so bad
—
Uncle Will’s going to kill me.
His warning echoed in Mace’s head: “The longer she’s around us, the more she can tolerate our atmosphere.”

Well, that didn’t seem the case. She’d fainted, like, fifty times, and was completely out. Mace’s hands rested flat against the wall, keeping her arms draped over his as they stood face-to-face. With no one watching he could take a minute to study her. He could find interest in a spider on a web if he gazed at it long enough, though Nikki Youngblood was far more interesting — and even more dangerous — than any web or poisonous spider this world could offer. And the danger lingered on two levels: first, because he seemed unable to stay on task whenever she looked at him; and second, because he was sent to protect her, and it was quite obvious by her attitude Nikki didn’t feel she needed any protection but her own.

He willed her to exhale. Just one more breath. Again, his lips hovered only a few inches from hers. Sculpted brows framed
her eyes, now closed but no less beautiful with their thick crescent moons of dark lashes. A small nose, turned up slightly at the tip, and pink lips. Artist’s hands had sculpted this daughter of man.

He had to grin at her vintage T-shirt. He’d always felt that retro clothing hinted at some deep appreciation for the past, for history and its richness. She wore a light vanilla-scented fragrance, but it paled to the aroma of Nikki. Clear, alive. Wind and fire.

When she opened her eyes again, he smiled. “Welcome back.”

Glancing down at her predicament, she exhaled a long breath as if surrendering.

Mace’s heart responded with a series of fierce beats.

Her head tipped back, resting against the barn wall and mashing her long hair. A strand flittered across his arms, and he hoped she didn’t notice his skin reacting to the feathery touch.

“What’s wrong with me?” she said in a small voice.

Finally, the fighter in her had conceded. He needed to seize the moment. “I want to ask you something.”

She nodded, and the tips of her hair danced over his skin.
She’s making it monumentally difficult to concentrate.

He opened his eyes wide, allowing her to read his intention. The eyes were the mirrors of the soul, after all. “Can you trust me?”

For a long time, they gazed at one another, and Mace wondered if the contact was playing havoc with her the same way it was with him.

“Yes,” she said, and it seemed to surprise her. One side of her mouth skewed upward. “I can.”

Mace inched closer, watching for any hesitation as he drew near. This was a mistake; he could completely short-circuit her and she’d end up passed out on the barn floor again.
But really, what do I have to lose?
Either way, he was with Nikki Youngblood, and though his mind sought to remind him of the trouble he’d be in if Will knew, he doused that voice when she didn’t stiffen or try to shrink away. “I’m going to hug you,” he said.

She bristled then, as if wanting to retreat … and possibly embrace his movement. Mace could hear her heartbeat quicken, then slow, and her breathing seemed to match. Neither seemed rooted in fear, but how much of her reaction was due to his aura over her?

“Nikki, is it okay if I come a little closer?”

She dropped her eyes toward the floor and swallowed. “I-I think so. As long as it’s just a hug.”

His hands slid off the barn wall and lightly touched her back. His arms, moving in response, closed around her and drew him into her warmth. When their bodies met in the embrace, she sucked in a breath. Her back arched as her body stiffened for a moment, then melted like butter. And for an interlude that could have been a lifetime, they hung there, drifting between two worlds.

Her eyes flew open and she tilted back enough to look at him. Both exhilaration and wonder lit her features in equal measure. She searched his face. “What just happened?”

“I hugged you,” he said, voice jagged from the contact. He fought the urge to pull her closer.

“What else?” she said, her breath light. “I feel … stronger. It’s like that hug energized me.”

This was a bad, bad, bad idea.

But he was smiling like an idiot. He
was
an idiot. When she fully came to her senses, she’d know she’d been in contact with something unearthly. Something beyond this realm, and outside the scope of normalcy. “You said you trust me.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “And you said you’d explain.”

“About the
accident
,” he said.

“There was no accident, remember?” All her previous fear and panic had drained, leaving only confidence. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then flashed back up to meet his eyes. “I saw you. You were on my bike.”

This was spiraling out of control. He fought for an explanation … but had she bit her lip when she’d glanced down at his mouth?
Heaven help me.
“You saw me on the side of the road in your side view mirror.”

A coy grin slanted her cheeks. “Who said I saw you in the side view mirror?”

Oops.
Mace clenched his jaw and began to draw away from her.

But her fingers found their way up his shoulders to the back of his neck. “Wait,” she said, the slight squeeze of her fingertips stopping him cold. Or hot. It was a strange mix of sensations, the play of her fingertips against his skin, the mounting pressure on his chest.

Nikki smiled sweetly. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

Ugh. That little announcement landed like a rock in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t mention it. Really, don’t,” he said.

One brow notched up. “You’re a strange guy, Mace.”

“So they tell me,” he said. Still, her hands remained closed on him like she didn’t want to let go. He felt her pulse in each fingertip.

When the moment drifted toward the awkward, she released her grip and slipped her arms off his.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah, almost normal. In fact, better than normal. This is bizarre, but it feels like there are really low volts of electricity drifting through my body.” Nikki grimaced. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”