“Open your heart.” His palm lowered to my chest. Fingers spread, his pinky brushed the swell of one breast, his thumb paused just short of the nipple on the other.
My borrowed shirt was cotton, thin from repeated washings. The heat of his skin seemed to burn through the fabric, scalding what lay beneath. Awareness sprang to life, and for just an instant another world shimmered at the edge of my vision before winking out as if it had never been.
Our gazes met. Mine narrowed; his stayed wide and eerily black.
“Open yourself,” he intoned.
I lifted my hand and removed his from my chest. He blinked. His eyes went back the way they were supposed to be—human, not… whatever they’d been—and the dancing flames fell back to the earth with an audible whoosh.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
When he touched me I didn’t feel like myself. When he touched me I wanted something I had no business wanting.
Him.
Chapter 21
The crunch of tires on gravel had us glancing toward the road. I hadn’t realized I’d been hoping to see a Hummer until my stomach dropped at the sight of a pickup truck.
It dropped even farther at the sight of the woman who climbed out of it.
Short and slim, with naturally blond hair and dewy pink skin, she had blue eyes, of course. Her Levi’s fit like a second skin; her denim shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, bestowing enticing peaks at her perky breasts: her cowboy hat framed a beautiful oval face, and her boots were just dusty enough to make her human. She looked strange in these clothes, probably because the last time I’d seen her she hadn’t been wearing any.
“What in hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Have we met?”
Not really. She’d never seen me, and I’d only seen her once, all those years ago when I’d touched Jimmy and discovered he’d been touching someone else.
My hands curled into fists as I got to my feet. Sawyer was already standing, contemplating me with both amusement and concern.
“Elizabeth Phoenix, this is Summer Bartholomew.”
I’d taken an aggressive step forward, as if I wanted to beat her face in. I did, but I wasn’t going to. It wasn’t her fault Jimmy couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Then Sawyer finished, “One of your DKs.”
“My DKs. What about Lucinda?” It would seem that a DK in New Mexico should have a seer in New Mexico, but what did I know.
Sawyer cut me a quick glance. “Lucinda’s been gone for years.”
I was amazed at the wave of sadness that washed over me. I hadn’t even known the woman. But she’d been Ruthie’s friend, her colleague. Lucinda’s loss seemed to emphasize Ruthie’s, which was just foolish considering how often Ruthie dropped into my dreams. As long as she continued to do that, Ruthie wasn’t really gone.
“She’s a DK?” I looked Summer up and down; I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “She’s a pixie.”
Her chin lifted. “Fairy actually.”
“You’re a fairy,” I repeated, the words sounding vaguely homophobic, even though I was certain she wasn’t a gay male masquerading as a petite blond female. She was a real live fairy. How’s that for a sentence you don’t hear every day?
“Where are your wings?” I asked.
“Kind of a myth.”
“But fairies aren’t?”
“You’re standing next to a skinwalker, and you’re balking at fairies?”
I glanced at Sawyer. “Am I supposed to kill her? I’m confused.”
He shook his head but kept silent, visibly delighted at the encounter. I wanted to smack him, but that would involve touching him, and I wasn’t going to go there.
“I’m not a Nephilim,” Summer said, her voice a little higher, her face a bit more tense. “Tell her, Sawyer.”
“Obviously not, if you’re a DK.”
“A breed then?” I asked.
“No.” Summer came closer. “I’m & fairy.”
I really wished I had a weapon, though what killed a fairy? The enormity of what I didn’t know washed over me in a wave of exhaustion so strong I nearly staggered.
“Supernatural creature means Nephilim.” I took a few steps backward, thinking if I could get into the house, I could grab the gun I’d taken from Jimmy’s arsenal, or maybe my knife.
I didn’t like the way Sawyer watched us, as if waiting to see what we might do. Was Summer a test? Maybe I should touch her.
Duh.
Striding forward, I wrapped my hand around her forearm. She was startled at the sudden shift, and her bright blue eyes went wide as her pretty pink mouth shaped into an O.
The instant I touched her I saw Jimmy, wearing what he’d worn last night—make that early this morning. I let her go as if she were a snake.
“He went to see you.”
Her gaze met mine. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She glanced away, her cheeks turning pink. Stupid question.
“He sent me here to tell you—”
“He couldn’t call?”
Did he think I wouldn’t recognize her? Sometimes Jimmy was so damn dense, he worried me. Then again, most men were.