When I reached for the hem of my shirt and started stripping it over my head, Tyler whipped his head in the opposite direction, acting like I’d just thrown acid in his face. “Whoa . . . hey . . . do you want me to leave or something?”
I laughed over his sudden inhibitions and tossed my shirt on top of my shoes, making a pile beneath the bushes at my feet. I planned to keep my bra on, and in another second or two it would be just that and my underwear remaining. “How is this any different from a swimsuit?”
He dared a peek, uncovering his eyes with exaggerated hesitation. “I mean, I guess so . . .” But even his skepticism was beginning to sound suspect. We might not have any human DNA left in us, but that didn’t mean his memories weren’t completely and totally red-blooded . . . and what all-American teenaged boy didn’t want to look at a half-naked girl?
Without waiting for his verdict, I lowered myself into the blissfully steamy water. It was seriously luxurious, better even than the hot tub Cat and I had snuck into that one time at her uncle’s country club when we were fourteen.
“You should get your butt in here,” I called to Tyler. “You have no idea what you’re missing . . .” I sighed as the water reached the back of my neck, and then holding my breath, I submerged myself completely.
The water became a filter then, dulling all my senses. Vaguely, from somewhere above me, I heard Tyler say something back to me, and it sounded an awful lot like, “If you insist . . .” But I stopped caring as I raised my toes off the rocks beneath me and let the water cradle me.
Slowly, I eased away from the edge.
Below me something warm surged toward my feet. It felt like a current, and I guessed it was the source of the spring’s heat . . . maybe of the spring itself. I kicked my legs, relishing the feel between my toes.
I sank lower into the water . . . diving . . . plunging closer to the heat . . .
Opening my eyes, I realized my strange ability to see in the dark worked just as well down here. I released a breath and watched the bubbles swell toward the water’s surface. Around me, I could make out the rocky walls and ridges of the pool’s edge. I traced them, following them lower; to where they reached depths I could no longer see.
I wondered just how far down the pond went.
Deciding to explore, I spun myself in that direction and propelled myself with my hands, letting my super-vision lead the way. Eventually I saw tiny, almost microscopic bubbles seeping toward me. As I kept going the bubbles grew denser, making it harder to see through them.
I had to be nearing the source.
“Kyra!” The sound—my name—was muffled by both the water and distance. Then it came again, and I felt it more than understood it . . . him. “Kyra!”
From way above, near the surface, Tyler was shouting for me.
I rolled onto my back so I could find him, and even from all the way down here, I could make out his form, bare except for his boxer shorts. I could see his expression, distorted as it was. There was something there as he searched for me. What was it? Worry? Fear?
Anxiety percolated in my chest, bubbling like the spring beneath as I realized I needed to reach him. I kicked my legs hard behind me. When I was close enough, the drawn line of his mouth and his pinched brow became crystal clear.
It wasn’t just worry on his face, it was stark panic.
His fingers pinched my arm as he dragged me the rest of the way to the top. When we broke through the surface, he choked out, “Kyra . . . what the . . . What the hell?” His feet caught the rocks beneath him finding his balance, and I couldn’t tell if he was stammering because he was frustrated or because he was breathless.
When his green eyes probed mine there was hot accusation in them.
I shot him a mute frown as I tried to unravel what I’d missed during the time I’d been down there.
His grip intensified. “I thought . . .” He scowled back at me, and I saw the way his gaze swept over me then. “You were down there too long.”
Then realization hit home: Tyler didn’t remember.
I shook my head, my whole body unwinding. I reached up and pressed my thumb to the bridge of his nose, where his eyebrows were practically fused together. “It’s okay,” I explained, willing him to understand. “I didn’t need to breathe . . . down there. I can hold my breath for so, so long.” It sounded strange to say it again, especially to Tyler, but even without seeing the proof on his face I could sense him collecting himself.
And then he released a strangled sigh. “God, that too? How long?”
I shrugged. “I never really tested it. A long time though.” I dared a quick smile, thinking of the first time Tyler had seen that little trick of mine in action, when it wasn’t a trick at all but because my leg had been trapped beneath a fallen log in a rushing river. Agent Truman had been chasing us and we’d had no choice but to jump into the raging waters.
That was nothing at all like now. Here.