Chapter 4

Rosemary

My head was all over the place after both my visitors had left. Luckily, I didn’t have very long to think about things; I had just enough time to toss the papers in my backpack. Then I had my hands full with the movers and the plumber showing up at nearly the same time.

All day, I was running all over, trying to get everyone to do their job right. At least the movers didn’t have to unload all that much, and I insisted on carrying the more fragile of my plants myself, carefully arranging them on an old but sturdy table in the dining room. When they left, I spent the rest of the day making friends with Ted. The older man promised to explain what he did every step of the way so I could fix it myself next time.

By the time I had running water, my meager furniture and things unpacked, and my plants watered and cared for, I was a sweaty and exhausted mess. This time, at least, I could take an actual shower in the master bedroom, the water running cold, but fresh and clean.

After I’d dined on gifted casserole, I curled up on my mattress, in my fresh sheets, sighing with happiness that I didn’t have to sleep another night on the hard floor. The paperwork lay all but forgotten in my backpack next to the bed. I sank into dreams very quickly, my body growing warm and heavy to the sound of rain clattering on the roof above me. I spared only a single thought about how well the old roof would hold up against such a torrential downpour.

I wondered if I’d dream of that strangely alluring voice again. Would I dream of a phantom man who lured me outside in the dark? Phantom touches that heated my flesh. I almost hoped that I would.

I didn’t count on the sound of banging on the front door to shake me from my sleep. Instantly awake, I shot upright in my bed with my heart pounding in my throat. The rain was still pouring, clattering on the roof tiles loud enough to drown out most noises, but not the insistent, frantic banging on the door.

My eyes darted to the two-by-four I had left on the nightstand next to the bed. I didn’t have a handy baseball bat or a shotgun, so I’d taken that from the barn in case I needed protection. My fingers felt sweaty as I curled them around the square piece of wood and tiptoed down the stairs.

This house was in the middle of nowhere, just far enough from town to make walking here extremely unappealing. Maybe it was someone with a car that had broken down? But my road only led to one place, the farmhouse. Why would anyone be on it?

I reached the front door and leaned on tip-toe to peek through a crack where someone had nailed boards over the small window from the outside. It was so freaking dark and I didn’t have a functioning porch light yet. The light in my hallway didn’t even work right now, though I did have power, thankfully. All I could make out was a shadow on the other side, the door vibrating beneath my palm as whoever was on the other side pounded on it again.

My skin tingled, and my adrenaline was soaring. I couldn’t open this door; that would be monumentally stupid. Even if it was just a person in distress, I couldn’t take the risk. Fear shot through me as I gasped when the darkness on the other side was suddenly replaced. I was no longer peering through the crack at vague shadows; I was staring at a luminous golden disk, a black slit crossing it vertically; and then it blinked.

Immediately, the pounding on my door stopped, and over the sound of the pouring rain, I heard a voice. The same deep, sinfully sexy voice that I’d heard in my dreams last night, and calm washed over me. I was sleepwalking again, but this dream sure was a lot less fun than the one from last night.

“Rosy, my love. Please let me in. Open the door,” the voice said. I heard him loud and clear, even with the rain and even with the thick door separating me from him. It felt like his words danced through the air around me like warm curls of air, ruffling through my hair, and trailing down my chilled skin.

“Please, you are in grave danger! I’m here to protect you. You freed me. Now I must repay my debts to your family. To your father, Zachery.” That voice was far less seductive when he was spouting threats. Grave danger? Come on! That was ridiculous. Couldn’t my dream mind make up something more fun than this?

“You are not dreaming,” the voice said. “You weren’t dreaming last night either, when I called you to my prison. Please, Rosy… Let me in…” his last words seemed to taper off, fading like smoke into thin air. A shiver shot down my spine, but my nipples grew into hard, stiff peaks. Let me in. He said those words as he might were we curled between the sheets. Sinful, sexy, and demanding.

I seemed to be particularly sensitive to his seductive notes, and I didn’t like it one bit. Reaching out with my free hand, I pinched the skin on my arm firmly and winced when that hurt. Not dreaming. How was that possible? My mind flashed to the boulder that had rolled through my vegetable garden, the giant boulder that I dreamed of tossing over my shoulder like it was nothing.

“Who are you? What’s happening?” I asked, and then I wanted to groan at how stupid that was. Now he definitely knew I was home, standing on the other side of the door. What was that going to achieve? I had a feeling that he would keep rattling my poor, ancient door until I let him in now that he knew I was right there.

It was as if even the pouring rain seemed to lessen as I held my breath and waited for an answer; as if even nature was anxious to hear what he’d say. “I am a friend, your father’s friend. I am the guardian of these lands, just like you are. I am Chardum the Destroyer, and you are Rosemary the Life Giver.”

My eyebrows shot up and, just to be sure, I pinched my arm a second time, with the same result. Excuse me? Life-giver? Was he referring to my womb now? Or was it something else? Instinctively, my eyes flicked from the door to the shadowed table in the dining room, where nearly a hundred potted plants were neatly lined up.

When I looked back at the door, it looked just like before. Dark and shadowed, with a single crack over the window to look out of. There was no sign of that strange golden disk and I hoped I had just imagined it.

“Rosy,” the voice said, and now it felt like he was right behind me, warmth pressing up against my spine. It felt like arms bracketed my hips against the door, pinning me in place, but there was nothing there, just shadows. “I am hurt, I am cold, and I am hungry . Let me in.” On the word hungry, I felt that heat against my back crowd me closer, the chest of a man, the pressure of something hard and thick against my ass.

While all those words seemed to make my body tingle, and the heat and the shapes I could feel around me seemed to turn me on. I still didn’t want to open that door until he drawled, “Please. I need you…” I was crazy, I was having the weirdest hallucinations, and I was about to get murdered and yet, I still flicked the lock open and pulled back the door.

I was not prepared for what was on my porch, my eyes growing wide at the sight that greeted me. A towering shape, easily over six feet, streaked with mud but wearing nothing else. Not a stitch. He didn’t even have the decency to cover his package with his hands or something. Nope, he was just standing there in all his naked glory.

One arm was braced against my doorjamb, the mud-streaked bicep curling enticingly next to my head. His wide shoulders filled up the doorway and long black hair clung in wet strands to his head, neck, and chest. That chest was packed with muscle but lean, tapering into narrow hips from which hung his more than generous cock. Uncircumcised, I noted with morbid fascination. This was so not the appropriate response to have when a naked stranger stood on your front porch.

“Ah, there you are, my love. Will you let me in?” he said, golden eyes locking onto mine, framed by long black lashes from which clung shimmering drops of water. His killer cheekbones, the dusky skin, and all that lovely long black hair, it screamed Native to me. Those golden eyes they screamed possession, heat, and desire.

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. He was naked, and if I discounted the freaking sword between his legs, he was unarmed. He clearly needed my help. Wordlessly, I stepped back, clutching my two-by-four in both hands in front of me. When he didn’t move from outside my door, I said with dry lips, “Come in.”

His bare feet were so covered in mud that it was caked almost up to his knees. I winced just thinking of what the garden and yard had to look like and hoped it would be better by morning when I had intended to go out and take the boards of all the windows to let in the light.

He stepped into the hall and took three steps toward me while I backed up more and more; leaving muddy prints along the way. Raising a hand toward my face, it felt like he was about to cup my chin, and then his gold eyes rolled back in his head and he went crashing to the floor. The thud as he hit the hardwood reverberated up my legs, fallen like a mighty oak felled by an ax.

Oh shit, what the hell?