too often, she thought grimly. It was odd how the isolation she'd so desperately needed after Brian's death had quickly turned into a prison from which she feared to break free.
In many ways, that fear still held her. But at least Jon had shown her it was possible to control her gifts and put them to good use. It was up to her now to find the courage to break free from her self-imposed exile.
She sighed softly and ran her hand across the warm plane of his muscular stomach. Meeting him had also shown just how badly she missed having someone to share the highs and lows of life with. And yet she'd been something less than honest in her admission earlier. She didn't want just anyone to love her.
She wanted him.
But that was an unlikely dream.
She bit her lip against the sudden sting of tears. Part of her wanted to fight his decision, to try to make him stay. His touch and his eyes told her he loved her, even if he would never admit it. But she might as well try to restrain the wind. As much as he might love her, he loved his work more. He didn't want to give it up, and he didn't want her to be a part of it.
If she stayed, or tried to make him stay, she would end up hating herself as much as he'd end up hating her. Better to walk away now.
He stirred slightly, his fingers running across hers and squeezing them gently. 'You okay?'
His voice was blurred with sleep, yet she could hear the concern in it. 'Fine,' she whispered. 'Just got to go to the bathroom.'
She moved away from his touch, her feet brushing against the clothes she'd stripped off earlier. She bent down to collect them then quickly padded to the bathroom.
Shutting the door quietly, she turned on the light. A breeze touched her bare skin, running icy fingers across her throat and squeezing tightly. She coughed and glanced across to the window. Some fool had left it open. A fine haze of rain misted in through the opening, and the coldness in the room suddenly grew more intense. Shivering, she quickly donned her T-shirt and panties then moved to close the window.
'I wouldn't bother, my dear,' a harsh voice whispered behind her. 'I'll only have to open it again.'
Heart leaping in fright, Maddie jerked around. Ebony smoke curled lazily from the shower and formed the shape of a woman. Eleanor.
Impossible! Maddie wanted to scream, only her voice seemed frozen to the back of her throat. She licked her lips and slowly backed away, fingers trembling as she reached for the door. If she flung it open hard enough, Jon would wake…
Eleanor made a quick motion with her hand, and the ice encasing Maddie's throat settled across her limbs. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. Could only watch as Eleanor glided towards her with unnatural grace.
'Don't we just smell like a bitch in heat.' Though Eleanor's soft voice held a hint of amusement, malice twisted her face—a face that suddenly looked sharp and old. 'I do hope you enjoyed yourself, my dear.
It's probably the last time that you will.'
She reached up and ran a needlelike fingernail down Maddie's cheek. It might have been a knife, cutting deep. Tears stung Maddie's eyes, but she could do little more than flinch and blink them away. But deep in her soul the fires flickered to life.
'He should never have killed Hank,' Eleanor went on, almost conversationally. 'It took me a long time to find a man like him, someone trainable but with half a brain. Now I'll have to start all over again.'
Maddie stared at her. The woman had to be mad—or very, very sure of her own abilities. Despite Jon's presence in the next room, Eleanor was making no attempt to speak quietly. Surely he would hear and come running…
As if reading her thoughts, Eleanor laughed. It was a high, insane sound that lashed at Maddie's ears and made every nerve ending quiver in fright.
'My dear, he sleeps the sleep of the well-sated. Besides, my little fog is swallowing any sound we make.'
Maddie blinked, suddenly realizing the fine mist of rain she'd noticed earlier had thickened to become a barrier near the door. Jon wouldn't hear her, couldn't save her. Fear spurted through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the panic tightly squeezing her heart. She wasn't entirely helpless, as Brian had found out.
And she didn't have to move to unleash her fire.
Watching Eleanor carefully, she reached deep down into that dark place in her soul where the flames lurked.
Eleanor's gaze narrowed, as if she felt the heat suddenly building. 'But enough talk. There is much I have yet to do, traps I must arrange.'
Eleanor reached out, grabbing Maddie by the arm. Clawlike fingers tore into her flesh as the mist near the door began to curl lazily towards them.
Terror slammed past fear and sliced through Maddie's heart. She couldn't let Eleanor take her anywhere. Couldn't let herself be used as bait to trap Jon. With a silent scream of denial, she stared at the hand holding her so tightly and let loose her fire.
Eleanor's flesh burst into flame, and Maddie's skin shriveled away from its touch. Eleanor screamed, a high-pitched sound of anger and pain. The mist responded to the noise, weaving and pulsing in frantic haste around the flames scorching Eleanor's fingers and arm. When it curled away, the flames were gone.
'You will pay for this,' Eleanor hissed, holding up a blackened hand for Maddie to see. It looked like a twisted, broken paw.
Then the mist eddied again, and the ice holding Maddie immobile seemed to spread, splintering through her soul. Pain erupted through her body and she screamed. But the only sound she heard was the sharp note of Eleanor's laughter as the darkness encased them both and swept them away.
'Maddie?'
His question seemed to echo across the lonely silence. Jon sat upright in bed, heart pounding unevenly as he stared at the light filtering under the bathroom door.
'Maddie, are you okay?'
There was no answer to his question, and every instinct told him something was horribly wrong. He threw the blankets aside and ran across to the bathroom, flinging open the door.
The room was cold and empty. He took a quick glance behind the door then walked to the window. It was latched, and the cobwebs he'd noticed earlier still trailed across the corners, indicating it had not been opened.
He swung around and moved back into the bedroom. Where the hell was she? For one brief, horrible instant he thought she'd left him, had gone from his life without saying good-bye. Then he saw her canvas overnight bag, still on the chair where she'd flung it. The sick tension in his gut increased.
Eleanor had her. He was certain of that much, if nothing else. Somehow, the witch had crept into the room and spirited Maddie away.
He swore and stalked across to the clothes he'd left lying on the floor. Something burned up his leg as he pulled on his jeans. With another curse, he dug his hand into his pocket. The ring he'd taken from Hank was burning hot. He dropped it quickly on the bed and stepped back.
Smoke curled up from the gleaming red eyes of the panther, gradually forming a wraithlike image of Eleanor. But it was an Eleanor who suddenly looked haggard and old—and very desperate.
'I have your woman, Shapeshifter.'
Despite her appearance, Eleanor's voice was still smooth and warm. He wondered how much magic she was using to keep it that way. Wondered how badly Maddie had been hurt. 'Maddie's not my woman, witch. Do what you want with her.'
Eleanor's laughter was high and inhuman. 'Lie to yourself if you wish, but please refrain from doing so to me. And I prefer to be called a sorcerer, not witch. So, shall we talk terms?'
He clenched his fists and somehow resisted the temptation to shatter the wraith's smug face. 'I'll talk no terms with the likes of you.'
Eleanor sighed. 'This denial of yours is becoming tedious. I think I'll leave.'
The mist wavered, losing shape. Fear for Maddie cut deeper into his gut. He had no doubt he could find her. His spirit was now linked so closely to hers he only had to fly around until her soul cried out to him.
