Dana didn’t ask, her eyes glued to that angry red slash.
She didn’t know how much time passed. How many minutes. A few or a lot. But beneath her astonished gaze, the deep laceration sealed, healed, formed scar tissue, then faded away until his chest was once more unmarred.
Dana reached out and touched his warm skin, smoothed her hand across his muscles where the wound had been, and found no evidence that it had ever existed. When she ran her fingers up and down his biceps, she discovered that they, too, had healed completely.
She looked up.
Aidan’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.
When she withdrew her hands and clasped them in her lap, his lids lifted.
“Your eyes are really bright,” she murmured. He had said such resulted from pain and strong emotion. Since his wounds had healed, she didn’t think pain still plagued him. So that left emotion. “What are you thinking?”
Shaking his head, he forced a smile. “Just hoping and praying that won’t be the last time I ever feel your touch.”
She didn’t doubt his sincerity. His beautiful eyes were full of dread and sorrow.
“You’re different,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“You should have told me how different.”
A mirthless laugh escaped him. “When?” he asked helplessly. “On our first date, when you expressed such unease upon discovering I’m telepathic?”
She bit her lip, feeling a tad guilty over that. She knew firsthand how hard it was to tell people you were different, the negative reactions that usually resulted, and how crappy it could make you feel.
“Or during that first reading you gave me?” he continued before she could respond. “When you told me my lifeline was the longest you’d ever seen, should I have told you it’s because I’ve lived far longer than anyone else you’ve met?”
She stared at him. “How long have you lived?”
Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead as though an ache slowly built there. “Please, don’t make me answer that. Not now. Not yet. It will only make this more difficult.”
Really? How old was he?
He had said he’d lived far longer than anyone else she’d met. She assumed that included grandparents. So how long had he lived? A hundred years? A hundred and fifty? Two hundred? How was that possible? And how could he look so young and heal at such an astounding rate?
“What are you, Aidan?” she forced herself to ask. Please say human.
Sighing, he lowered his hand. “We call ourselves immortals.”
Crap.
“But we aren’t truly immortal. We just”—he shrugged—“don’t age and are very hard to kill.”
With his rapid healing ability, she would imagine so. “Are you an alien?” She felt ridiculous asking it, but he clearly wasn’t human. “I mean, how did you come to be like this?” She motioned to his smooth chest.
“I’m not an alien. I began my life the same way you did. I was born a gifted one.”
“What’s a gifted one?”
“Someone who is born with advanced DNA that lends them special talents ordinary humans lack. Your psychic abilities are a result of the advanced DNA with which you were born. And that DNA was passed to you from your parents. Much like mine was by my mother.”
“I don’t have advanced DNA.”
“Yes, you do. All gifted ones have advanced DNA. It’s the source of our gifts.”
“Gifted ones?” she repeated, stressing the s. “Are you saying there are more people out there with special gifts?”
“Yes. Many more. All my brethren possess them. And there are thousands of others.”
Every time she thought he couldn’t confound her more, he did. “Wait. Are you saying Sheldon and Tracy—the couple I met on our first date—have special gifts? Is that why your telepathy was no big deal to them?”
He shook his head. “Neither Sheldon nor Tracy are gifted ones, but the men and women they work with are. Or were, before they became immortal.”
“What about the others you introduced me to?”
“Martin and Evie are gifted ones. Martin is like you and can see the future. Evie is an empath and can feel others’ emotions.”
“And the rest?”
“étienne, Krysta, and Sean are gifted ones who have become immortals.”
“They’ve become immortals? How does one become immortal?”
“By being infected with a very rare symbiotic virus that behaves like no other on the planet. When one is infected with it on a large enough scale, the virus conquers, then replaces, the immune system, giving one the speed, strength, and healing abilities that will enable it—and its host—to survive as long as possible.”
She grimaced. “It isn’t like those snake things in Stargate that live in their host’s stomach, is it?” Gross.
“No. It’s nothing like that. It really is a virus. It just behaves unlike any other we’ve seen.”
“Why?”
“Our doctors and scientists are still trying to puzzle that out.”
Dana pondered his words. “So étienne, Krysta, and Sean are like you? They heal superfast, can outrun the Flash, and have glowing eyes?”
“Yes. étienne is telepathic. He has fewer scruples than I do and can be a nosy bastard. So whenever you’re in the same room with him, you can pretty much count on him reading your thoughts.”
“You say that as though you think I will be in the same room with him again at some point.”
“Krysta can see auras,” he continued. And Dana found the evasion unsettling.
“Wait.” She frowned. “Auras? You mean those glowy things some people claim surround the body? Those are real?”
“Apparently so. And her brother Sean can heal with his hands.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“So he can just lay hands on a wound and heal it?”
“Yes.”
Okay. That was actually kind of cool.
Aidan’s look turned guilty.
Or guiltier.
“What?” she asked, already dreading whatever he would say.
“Now might be a good time for me to tell you that I can heal with my hands, too.”
Again she stared at him.
“I did tell you,” he hastened to add, “the night of our first date that I had more than one gift.”
She thought back to that night. Had he?
I’m not pretending. I do have a special gift. More than one, if you’re to know the truth of it.
Yes, he had. But Tracy and Sheldon had come up then. And Dana had been so surprised by their casual acceptance of his telepathy that she had forgotten.
“You did,” she confirmed.
He seemed only slightly relieved to hear it.
“So you can heal with your hands?” she asked. Why, she wondered, did that seem less believable than the other revelations he had made?
He nodded.
Leaning over, Dana reached behind him and rummaged through his coat. When her hand found the hilt of a dagger, she curled her fingers around it and removed it from its sheath.
Aidan eyed her warily when he saw it. “What do you plan to do with that?”
She drew the sharp blade across her palm, cutting a deeper gash than she had intended. “Ow! Shit!” she cried, dropping the dagger. “That hurt more than I thought it would.”