Silence descended. What else was there to say? I turned to go. I’d been right in the first place. Why bother with good-bye? Sawyer wasn’t the type. Hell, neither was I.
I was reaching for the woven mat across the doorway when his hand slapped against the wall next to my head. “One more thing,” he whispered.
I tensed and he laughed, low and kind of scary. I refused to react. Hadn’t I just convinced myself I wasn’t afraid of him? I wasn’t. But I appeared to be afraid of how I felt about him.
I didn’t love him, but I couldn’t stop wanting him. The sex had been incredible—from the first time when I hadn’t known it was real right through the last time, when I’d wanted both power and him. I was downright terrified that if he touched me now I’d beg him to take me again, even knowing that there was no other reason for it than desire.
I’d called him a whore for the federation, so what did that make me?
He leaned forward. Despite my clothes, I could feel the unnatural heat of his skin. His chest pressed to my back; his hand lowered from the wall to my stomach as he slid his cheek along mine.
His face was smooth; I’d never seen him shave. I’d read somewhere that the original Native Americans had very little facial hair, but as they’d interbred with whites that had changed. Considering the aeons he’d lived, I’d guess what I’d read was true.
“You are capable of obtaining powers unimaginable,” he whispered. “But have a care. Never have sex with a Nephilim.” Sawyer turned his head so that his mouth was right next to my ear. “Never.”
His tongue flicked the lobe, and I jumped. He soothed me by stroking his clever fingers across my skin, which wasn’t very soothing at all.
I slapped my free hand over his, halting the movement, then slowly turned my head until our eyes met. “I’d think the power of a Nephilim would be all that much stronger.”
“There’s every chance you’ll absorb their evil as well as their magic. Nephilim don’t care who they kill, or how many, or what they destroy. They never look back, only forward, focused on themselves always and no one else.”
His voice was cool, his eyes gray ice, but I knew he remembered his mother. I leaned in and kissed him, meaning to be gentle, a “sorry for your sucky childhood” without words, but he would have none of it.
Sure he kissed me back, but he made it all sex. Tongue and teeth, devouring me until I forgot what the kiss had started out to be.
He lifted his mouth from mine, but hovered there, so close our breath mingled. Then he kissed me once more, quick and hard, before moving away. “You could be headed into a trap.”
“I know.” I lifted my chin. “I’m going anyway.”
“I know.” Sawyer held out his hand, palm down, fingers curled inward. “This is for you.”
I reached out, and he dropped a silver chain and charm into my palm.
Ruthie’s crucifix.
“Where did you get this?”
He gave me a wicked smile, and then he was gone— out the door and… I’m not sure where, just gone, the yard empty, not a sway of the foliage to reveal in what direction he’d fled.
The morning breeze blew across lips still wet from his. My body was aroused from his touch, edgy with a lack of satisfaction.
I guess that had been good-bye.
Chapter 30
Summer sat in the pickup. I didn’t want to go anywhere with her, but I doubted there was a Yellow Cab company that serviced the dregs of the Navajo Reservation.
The trip to Albuquerque was long and silent. New Mexico had a definite shortage of airports large enough to service jets.
Summer kept her lips zipped. If I didn’t get a flash of her and Jimmy entwined every time I looked at her, I might just like her for that alone. But I did, so I didn’t.
The landscape was gorgeous—mountains bleeding into desert, every color found in nature bursting from the land, the trees, and the sky—revealing why so many artists and photographers gravitated here. There was something about the light in New Mexico that made everything seem etched by God.
Though one of the oldest cities in the U.S., Albuquerque appeared to have been plopped down at the foot of the Sandia Mountains on a whim. Ancient Native American culture existed right next to modern high-rises. According to local propaganda, the sun shone on Albuquerque over three hundred days a year. That should be enough to make anyone give the place a try.
We took the exit for the Albuquerque International Sunport, and Summer pulled over at the curb near check-in. “You’re on the three p.m. flight to Minneapolis, with a connection into Milwaukee.”
I just smiled at her and shut the door. I could care less which flight I was supposed to be on.