Incubus (5 page)

Meical shifted in his chair, trying to string together some meaning from her words. It wasn't as though he hadn't been listening; in fact, the sleepier he became, the more he hung on her every word. “You sound sure of him.”

Her gaze slipped over Meical, assessing and calculating. “I begin to see the good in what he has done, even as we speak. He can, I believe, be trusted with still greater things. I have plans for him and his brother. You would agree, I'm sure, how vital it is to be needed.”

That hit too close to home—and this conversation was becoming ever more unreal by the minute. But he was so sleepy he couldn't pull together a suitable response. Meical rubbed his eyes, feeling as if he could drift away on the breeze.

What a good joke, to find Death was a woodland mater with a penchant for herbal tea. He'd laugh if he weren't so sleepy. He could think of worse things than crawling into a cot in the Grim Reaper's tent and falling asleep forever to birdsong.

But she wasn't Death. She couldn't be. Not with eyes like that. Not with a smile like that. But she
was
immortal. He could feel it in her presence. Who was she?

Perhaps he'd simply ask her. He opened his mouth to do so, but was momentarily distracted by a small cat that emerged from the tent and wrapped itself around the woman's feet. It was as ebony-black and soft as its mistress's hair.

“You're not alone after all,” Meical observed.

“This is one of many. She brings me information about people I want to know more about. She recently visited a mutual acquaintance of ours, a charming person with great courage and a selfless heart.”

Among the few people in Meical's world now, only Caroline fit that description. But, of course, this lady couldn't possibly know Caroline. None of this could even be real.

“Speaking of information,” he strove to say, “who are you?”

“I can't tell you that. It might get back to my friend.”

“I'm not likely to spoil your surprise. I'm not going to be around much longer.”

The winsome light in her eyes dulled. “It's a mistake to leave such a beautiful place, don't you think? You have loved ones who will miss you.
She
will miss you terribly.”

She? Caroline? Of course Caroline. No one else mattered. But this woman couldn't possibly know about her. Meical couldn't keep his eyes open another minute.
The warm sun and the cool breeze felt so good. He let the downy sunlit fog surround him.

“I'll only hurt her if I stay, and she's been hurt enough. Leaving is the best choice. I don't have the right to love her.”

“Love is both the birthplace and the battleground of our sweetest choices. I promise you, Meical, it is strong enough to survive. And so is she. The question is, are you?”

That was the last thing he heard before he nodded off.

H
ow could anybody affect her this way in so short a time? It was infatuation. That was all.

Caroline cuddled Dash closer, where the two of them lay in front of the fire. She cast a glance at Meical, still asleep on the sofa. He hadn't moved in hours.

John had dropped by to check on him after lunch. He said his vital signs were okay—not wonderful, but okay. That was hours ago. It was well past sundown now, and still Meical hadn't even rolled over in his sleep.

His hands jerked suddenly, then curled into fists. A hoarse moan escaped him. Caroline sat up and scooted close to check on him. He seemed okay. Just dreaming.

She took his hand in hers, and her world turned upside down. She felt darkness everywhere and heard
deafening noises. Cannons boomed so close she thought her skull would split. Waves of icy fear and hot rage poured through her, and the darkness lifted. She looked up at the smoke-shrouded sky through blood-smeared eyes, prostrate on a battleground in the dark of night, up to her ears in a pool of blood. The death wails of men and horses rose around her. The stench of gore and death clung to the back of her throat.

Caroline snatched back her hand and stared at Meical in horror. Empath or no empath, his dream seemed as real as memory. But how could it be? The soldiers she had seen wore the uniforms of British infantry—from the time of the Napoleonic Wars.

She took his hand again, raised her shields and let the dream swallow her.

Two ethereal forms filled her vision. One bent close, a woman with red eyes.

“We'll take this one, Ellory. Oh, yes. I must have him.”

“No, Aloisia. Pass him by. Let us leave this place.”

“But he won't survive. I think that's a shame. He's so young and beautiful.”

“Indeed, madam. With a face like that, he was made for a heavenly choir—not a siren's bed. Slake yourself with me, but let the boy be.”

Her cool fingers felt delicious to Caroline's pounding forehead. Her hand came away bloodied, but she sucked the blood from her fingers. “Mmm. Perfect. Tell me, sweet one, would you like me to make your pain go away and take you far from this dreadful place? You will be safe with me. But, of course, there is a cost. Ellory, you
will carry him for me. We'll take him home with us. By tomorrow night he will be mine.”

Powerful arms lifted her, and Caroline and Meical jerked simultaneously as the ground fell away beneath them. Darkness fell over her vision. The next images blasted through her mind, starkly vivid, but so disconnected that she couldn't follow them.

Pleasure and blood, death and rebirth, the sensation of leaving something behind and beginning anew…a sudden release burned its way through her body like a bolt of lightning, and she and Meical gasped together.

When Caroline opened her eyes, she was lying flat on her back, staring up at her ceiling, and Dash was whining and licking her face. Her entire body tingled as though every muscle had fallen asleep and was now waking up with a vengeance.

What had she just witnessed in that dream of Meical's? She had felt it as though she were one with him. Was it his death? Had he died that way in a past life?

No. Not death. She clasped a shaky hand over her eyes. It had felt more like a rebirth.

Dash growled at the door. The growl ended in an anxious whine. Intruder.

Caroline listened with her entire being. The stranger was male. He was alone. But he wasn't Burke. Beyond that, all she could sense about him was…

She focused. A shiver ran through her as she connected with a wall of raw power, and at the heart of him, a gaping emptiness that terrified her. Clutching at
her crutches, she got to her feet and dug her can of Mace out of her dresser drawer.

Dash circled the room and whined like she was trying to find a place to hide. That wasn't like her. Normally she'd be tearing the door down to get to whoever was out there.

Caroline's upper lip beaded with perspiration. She locked both hands around the Mace can and waited. Dash began to howl as if a hundred sirens split the silence. The nameless wave of power advanced onto the porch like a tsunami and slammed against Caroline's shield so hard that she staggered backward. The rap on her door made her thoughts scatter.

Don't open the door,
she told herself.
It's the last thing you want to do.

Yet she found herself setting aside the Mace and walking to the door. She watched her hand grasp the doorknob, turn it and pull the door open. Wide open.

Dash retreated behind the sofa and fell utterly silent.

Black eyes flashed at Caroline from the half light of her porch lamp. The man's ebony hair fell in waves around his face and shoulders. With skin the color of café au lait, he was the most exotic person she'd ever seen. He would have been stunning if not for the hint of cruelty in his provocative smile. Like Meical, he wore no coat. Just a black turtleneck and jeans.

His voice was soft and deep, as mesmerizing as his eyes. “I've come for Meical.”

The bolt of energy Caroline had sensed a moment ago evaporated suddenly. All he exuded now was
a paradoxical mixture of aloof benevolence and a disinclination to be crossed. She couldn't quite place his accent. Middle Eastern, maybe?

Her mind cleared, and she closed the door until it was only ajar. For all she knew, this man was the reason Meical had ended up in a snowdrift. “How did you know he was here?”

“I followed him.”

She longed for her can of Mace. “Why would you do that?”

His smile widened. He clasped his hands in front of him and said as though she were a child, “I am his physician and an old friend of his family. He's been in my care for some time.”

But Meical said he had no one. No family. No friends. “What's your name?”

“Benemerut Neshi.”

“Well, when he wakes up, Dr. Neshi, I'll tell him you came by. If he wants to see you, he'll contact you.”

She pushed the door closed. It caught on something. She looked down. Neshi's black boot. It was dry, with no hint of mud or snow. That was weird. He was weird. This whole thing was weird.

Caroline met his gaze. “Don't mess with me, mister.”

There was as much beauty as harshness in his grin, but when his grin faded, there was only resolve. “Meical needs me.”

Who could look into that face, into those eyes, and say no? She opened the door and stood aside, eyeing the can of Mace that was way beyond her reach.

Neshi pushed past her and bent over the sofa. His hair partially concealed his face, but she thought she saw his mouth move. He placed one hand over Meical's heart and the other at Meical's temple. That was all. No stethoscope, penlight, tongue depressor, etc. No doctor stuff at all.

Caroline approached the bed. “He's been like this all day.”

“When he wakes…”

“What?”

He straightened and met her gaze, eyes glinting in a way that sent another shiver up her spine. “He'll need nourishment.”

She shrugged away her uneasiness. “I have a freezer full of Lean Cuisines on the back porch. I'll find something he'll like. Where did you say your clinic is?”

Neshi went to the fire and warmed his hands. Immaculate hands, large like Meical's, only darker. “I didn't say.”

He said it with such finality that Caroline got the idea she wasn't to ask him again. “And you're his family's physician?”

“They put him in my care to avoid having to commit him.”

Commit him? Caroline opened her mouth to scoff at Neshi, but all she could think of was the enormous strength and out-of-control rage she'd witnessed in Meical when he'd attacked Hicks.

She sank down to sit beside Meical and took his hand. Extending one crutch to fork the blanket up from the
hearthrug, she spread it over him. If he had turned out to be alone, really and truly, she could have helped him. But family ties meant connections, and connections meant she could be found.

Yet her compassion—and every inch of her body—screamed,
Do it. Help him. Take him. Claim him.

What was she thinking? She absolutely would not, could not get involved. She rubbed her temples, feeling dazed. The fire's heat reached her, hotter than it should be.

Trust him. You want to. You need to. Give in.

The glow from the flickering flames danced in Meical's golden hair, and his pale skin took on a swarthy copper look. His luscious mouth parted. In repose, he looked so sensitive. So in need. A weakness stole through her, bringing thoughts that made her face burn.

She hadn't thought of making love to anyone since Rivera's men had attacked her. Loving someone was a haven she'd never know again. It wasn't fair to Meical to pin her attraction on him. She couldn't follow through, and he obviously had enough of his own concerns.

She rose and sat down in her armchair to put some distance between them. “Tell me what he's been through, Doctor. What caused his problems?”

“Meical has lived with one foot in darkness and one foot in light, and between the two, he feels constantly called to return to something old and long ago.” Neshi leaned against the mantel and ran a finger over her paperbacks. “He remains caught there, somewhere in his past. His grasp on the here and now is such that it was
only a matter of time before he suffered a breakdown. He's emotionally unpredictable and subject to…an unusual psychosis.”

Unusual psychosis? She'd helped patients through everything in the book. How unusual could it be? There was something Neshi wasn't telling her.

“Come on, you know as well as I do he's suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder. He has all the symptoms. And don't talk to me about his grasp on reality because that's more a matter of being oversensitive to emotion than a mental imbalance. He's trying to escape something, yes, but PTSD doesn't just happen out of the blue. Meical has been through a crisis of some kind. What happened to him?”

“I think it would disturb Meical for me to discuss that with you. He's done things, you see, things he's not proud of.”

Like nearly kill people? Would he have killed Mr. Hicks if she hadn't been there to stop him? Caroline sighed. “Has he tried group therapy? I've seen it alleviate some of the struggle with PTSD.”

Neshi shook his head. “He doesn't play well with others.”

That didn't surprise her. Caroline looked down at Meical again. She could help him. She knew she could. Trauma was her specialty. Not to mention the fact that she understood Meical's response to whatever he'd been through. He was an empath. Empaths were, by their very nature, emotionally sensitive and reality-challenged.

But there were a hundred reasons why volunteering her services would be a stupid mistake. Burke was
only one. The best reason of all was Meical himself. She didn't need to encourage herself in his direction. To say that she was unsure of her ability to maintain her objectivity where he was concerned would be an understatement.

If she took his case, she'd have to keep their relationship professional.

She looked up to find Neshi regarding her with unveiled mockery as though he could read her mind. The fire's golden flames turned his face to a bronze mask, making him seem like an inscrutable ancient god.

Neshi shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was his last chance. He hasn't responded to any of my treatments. But I can't have him wandering off unattended. He could hurt someone. I suppose he'll have to be incarcerated after all.”

Caroline had seen how much Meical enjoyed the sunshine that morning when they were first getting acquainted. Being locked up would strangle him. He'd be a sponge in an asylum, with no way to shield himself from the emotions all around him.

“I can assure you, Dr. Neshi, if you institutionalize this man, he'll die inside. He needs to heal from the inside out. That takes a lot of trust and sharing on his part, and a lot of time and patience on yours.”

“Forgive me, but the severity of Meical's emotional unrest requires a practitioner trained in psychology, not feel-good remedies and warm fuzzies.”

Caroline felt a rush of professionalism she'd forgotten she had and embraced it like a long-lost friend. That was her only haven now, and nothing should ever change the
way she addressed a colleague. “I'm a psychologist and a certified counselor. Trauma cases are my specialization. I was working on my Ph.D. in juvenile psychiatry last year when…something interrupted my plans. I still practice when I can. I…” She sighed. What was she getting herself into? “…I can probably help him.”

Neshi crossed his arms and looked her over like a backstreet bully sizing up a new recruit. Caroline fought off the urge to squirm under his dark and assessing gaze, squared her shoulders and scowled back at him.

“You're offering to take him as your patient?” he asked.

Stupid, stupid, no, no, no, don't do it.
“I am.”

“What is your name?”

“Caroline.”

“Caroline what?”

“You don't need to know that.”

“Do you live alone?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He cleared his throat, all smug machismo. “Meical's particular psychosis will stress the boundaries you're accustomed to between you and your patients, specifically because you are
female.
”

What did he take her for, a coward? How dare he question her ability? She glared at him. “It's just a leg I'm missing, not my common sense and professional ethics. Believe me, I can handle him.”

Even though her shield hadn't held against his probe that morning. Even though he'd lain her flat on the floor with the force of his inner energy alone and probably hadn't half tried. Even though his probe had been the
most erotic experience she'd ever had. No matter what, she couldn't let Neshi think she couldn't deal with a patient.